Who

M'noq, Mayte

What

M'noq and Mayte discuss dark possibilities on the beach…

When

It is 7:49 PM where you are.
It is evening of the first day of the eighth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Beach

OOC Date 29 Mar 2018 06:00

 

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Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.


It's a clear night and the weather is decent for a change. Perhaps that's good enough reason for M'noq to end up here on the beach in the middle of the night. Ravaith is not here. The brown is sensible and is back at the shipweyr, sleeping. M'noq is just walking along the beach, bundled up in his riding jacket, a knitted blue cap pulled down over his head. He might not even be recognizable, except for the knot still hanging from his shoulder… unless the darkness obscures that as well.

Above, a dark shape sails indolently over the beach, almost off to the horizon of land before turning back lazily. Upon the shadow's return, it becomes larger and larger until landing almost silently onto the sand, Rhiscorath's frame not the soul of discretion she would like to be, per that snort of annoyance. A similarly dark figure slips from her neck, but that gait is unmistakably Mayte, her long hair unbound and flashing wildly in the light of the two moons as she marches after the figure of M'noq. "Hey!" she yells after that shadow, Rhiscorath watching quietly behind them.

A gold dragon is a little more difficult to obscure the identity of, rather than just some random dude walking along the beach. And M'noq really does feel like just some rando, caught up in his thougths… up until the goldrider flags him down. He stops at her shout and turns, watching her approach. "Ah… Mayte?" he says, and pushes his hat back a bit on his head, perhaps making him more identifiable. "Are you on beach patrol or something?"

Shhhh! Don't tell Rhiscorath, Master of Spies, the Control of Southern Circus, that. Catching up with M'noq, Mayte pulls down her own hood and stares up: "Yeah! I do beach patrol some nights, when I get to." Because no one told her she couldn't and L'vas now gets a night off. Hands stuffed in pockets, Mayte looks up at M'noq and shifts a little on the spot for a moment. "I've been hoping to talk with you. Like, quietly." An eye out to the surrounding beach and flora, in case someone from the Council Room is listening.

M'noq takes a look around as well, and it's pretty obvious that no one's here listening. "Of course. I'm available any time you need me." Because surely Lynx, the spy wing, must bend to whatever the Master of Spies asks. As for the bit about beach patrol, he isn't entirely sure he believes it, but he won't press the issue.

Even the head tilt from the Weyrwoman looks unconvincing. "Sure, right." That's as believable as why Mayte is out there in the first place. "I wanna ask you about a couple of things." She pauses to take a breath in and then, "M'noq, I just want to make sure… The illness." Even Mayte seems uneasy by this comment: "I've read through Lendai and Hannah's records and I need to check that this isn't some illness from another source." Sure, the sick Black Holders are ill but quarantined, but, "Could they have done something else?" Remember The Firestone.

M'noq looks thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I suppose that is one of the questions. I haven't heard that they've been able to track down the exact source, and I'm not exactly well-versed in medical things. Basically all I've been focusing on is trying to keep the majority of my wing in the air, and even then, a few Lynx riders have come down with it. What exactly do you think has been done?"

Mayte purses her lips for a moment, looking out to sea: "I know the Healers are doing what they can, but we need to know if this is from the bad weather, or if someone is trying to frustrate us." The moons shift so Mayte's face is cast into a rictus of worry and fear for a moment until it cracks into an uneasy grin: "Or maybe it's Ardstelle's butter going rancid but she's too busy to notice." And whose fault is that. Still, Rhiscorath is on the edge of the horizon of the beach, eyes whirling a little. And then, "And I know you're stressed too." Mayte pulls her hands out of her pockets and fists them a little to keep them warm, "Are you okay?"

"'Someone'?" M'noq echoes, arching a brow. "Does that mean you think that this was caused intentionally, as an act of sabotage? Who? And how? It just seems so random… I find it hard to think that some pattern wouldn't emerge, if this were anything other than a natural act." It's just they haven't discovered the pattern of the natural act, right? Her question receives a wry smile. "Well, now you've got me worried, and I wonder if I'll sleep tonight, after this. Does that count as okay?" He's teasing a little.

Mayte huffs a little and looks away for a moment because, "I've been told in the past by some people," i.e., people who aren't afraid of her, "that I look for people to blame." A faint shrug and Mayte ventures, "You're right, though, something would be noticeable." Not that she has to like it but apart from that, Mayte looks up at M'noq and pulls her hands from her pockets to spread, palm up. "I didn't mean to worry you, M'noq. I wanted to see if… things are alright with you. If you wanted to get a drink away from here sometime," and even those dark curls jerk as Mayte indicates away from the Weyr.

M'noq's smile is thin and humorless. "I don't think it's a terrible thing to look for the person responsible. Though sometimes things can't be traced back a single person, or even a group. I think this may just be an issue of needing to keep looking. If there's anywhere you'd like to me check, any person to ask… let me know." Her offer makes him hesitate, then offer a smile that's a bit warmer. "Certainly. Getting away sounds… fantastic. Tea or klah?" Because, if Mayte's spy network is up to snuff, she'll know that M'noq doesn't drink alcohol. Maybe that doesn't answer if things are really all right with him either, but that might be a question to be discussed over beverages.

If M'noq's response is without vivace, so is Mayte's: "I know that, I know!" she shrugs a little and as her shoulders drop, Mayte shakes her head. "I'll… I'll let you know, okay?" When M'noq's smile grows at the change of topic, so does Mayte's, incrementally. "Tea sounds good," she declares and then surprisingly, "Lemos, if Ravaith will let you walk that far," that is, landing far enough away that his rider joins the queue of travellers in and out of a Hold. Rhiscorath's eyes light yellow and her massive head rises; Mayte's own turns, followed by her sigh. "I have to go. But, good talk, man." She gives the Wingleader a brief smile before turning back to her gold: "Fair winds and following seas, okay?"

The suggestion makes M'noq laugh. "All right. We meet up in Lemos. Just let me know when." He waves to the Weyrwoman, then turns and starts to head back to his shipweyr. Maybe now he can get a bit of sleep.

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