Mayte, Rhiscorath, G'tan, Zinakoth


Igen's newest bronzer meets it's youngest goldrider, and their dragons chat over lunch.


It is the afternoon of the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month of the first Turn of the 12th Pass.


Pens, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


mayte_default.jpg rhiscorath_default.jpg g-tan_default.jpg



Here thar be pens, in a variety of shapes and sizes fit for all manner of beastie. The largest pens are those housing plump herdbeast for human or draconic consumption. A few of the smaller pens are unoccupied, though there are remnants of their former occupants still evident on ground and fence. The actual pens themselves are made of wood, stick, nail and twine. It's a slap-shod sort of place, kept together by dreams and good luck to hold fast against the winds. In each pen there are troughs for feed and water, and they appear again by the stableside.

It's a sunny day, but for all that light, Mayte is still munching on a sandwich while wrapped in a warm coat as she watches Rhiscorath watching the herdbeasts. Lunchtime for everyone, apparently. Mayte's sitting on the fence away from the bovines that are probably suspecting their fate - some eyes are rolling and in the cool winter air, coats are steaming. "Oh, c'mon already, Rhis, just pick one and eat the thing!" Mayte cheers from the sidelines.

The craggy, shimmering form of the bronze dragon that slinks over the fence a good length beyond Rhiscorath is far quicker to be decisive about his prey - though it's likely he's been sitting in observation over the pens for a good half a candlemark before making his move. Zinakoth leaps, long neck whipping out with a viper's strike to end a herdbeast moving a little too slow, and he settles in on it, regarding the young queen nearby with a curious yellow-orange gaze. A breath of dry warmth, whispering through worn walls long uninhabited and glowing in the steadily dying light of a desert sunset, is his pensive greeting to Rhiscorath, though no word are offered yet. G'tan, on the other hand, is more prone to be all words. He comes toward the fence at a brisk pace, whistling and swinging his arms against the cold before he smoothly hops up and perches on the worn wood. Then he notices Mayte, glancing over and slanting a smile at her with a salute ticked off his brow. "Hey!" he greets, rubbing his hands together thereafter. He never seems to actually go still. "Likes to take her time, huh?" he notes about Rhiscorath, jutting his chin at the watching gold.

Rhiscorath isn't picky, she's precise. She ignores her rider, eyes focusing on one beast and, ignoring Zinakoth's interruption and the chaos that his seizing of a beast provides, and selects a plump cow, settling back to eat. Before bending her head to the lowing thing, Rhis looks over the bronze, the pensive silence of a library, that dry desert sun filtering through dustmotes the gold's response. A book flips open on a lectern, a pen at the ready, but then Rhis is distracted by having to eat. Mayte turns to watch G'tan moving up, and the unensandwiched had salutes back, "Hello, Wingrider," she replies and shrugs at Rhis' fastidious eating habits: "She's more precise than most dragons I know." No, Zinakoth, she's not talking about you. "You're… G'tin? G'kan?" From the teasing grin, Mayte may just be joking a little, "Well met, G'tin." More smirking.

"Pffff, they should get along fine, then," G'tan says, flicking a hand out at the eating dragons. "Believe it or not, he's been watching that damn thing for the past…shells, I don't even know. Says he's makin' the most 'prudent' choice." He chuckles, legs swinging a bit so that his heels thump against a lower crossbeam. "G'tan," he corrects, shooting a winning grin over at Mayte in counter to her own. "That's Zinakoth. And you're…Mayte, if I remember right." He's been learning! "Well met. You're just about ready to ditch that knot for a real one, aren'tcha?" he questions, again using his chin to indicate the weyrling cord on her shoulder. Zinakoth continues his mostly silent meal, the library revealed in Rhiscorath's mind continuing to hold his curiosity. The bit of breeze he'd greeted her with whispers carefully among the books, rustling the edges of pages and riffling at papers, but not moving them. « One who thinks much, » the bronze observes appreciatively, low tenor little more than a murmur as he gives a soft rumble.

The sandwich in Mayte's hand is disappearing quickly and finally with a last lick of a bare finger, is gone. "That, or he was working his appetite up," the weyrling rejoins with a cheeky chuckle, "Sometimes I have to remind Rhis to eat or she'd go dull before she knew it." Silly dragons. "Yeah, I'm Mayte. And yup, it's getting close to time." A thumb hitches over her shoulder in the general direction of Important Things, "I'm spending more time with Weyrwoman Sadaiya and Linny than the rest of Mosaic, so," and there Mayte pauses, then shrugs. "So, you from around here, Wingrider G'tan?" See, she got it right! Rhiscorath is right in the middle of her meal but the rustling of the lecterned book raises her head a little, licking at her muzzle. A pen begins to scritch along the page. « There is much to think about. Much organizing to do. » A pause and then the pen begins to draw the form of nonsensical scrolls that slowly become an artistic rendering of Igen's outline, followed with a sense of inquiry.

G'tan easily kicks his left leg over to the other side of the fence, straddling it so that he can face Mayte. "Nah. He's pretty damn decisive when it comes to bein' hungry or not," the bronzerider returns with a shrug, and he nods to her answer about graduating. "Met Linny. Haven't had much of a chance to talk to Sadaiya yet, but I'm hopin' to soon. I," he says, stretching a bit with arms overheard, "am from Ista, actually. Got here…shells, has it been almost a month now?" He makes a slightly disbelieving face, then shrugs again. "Anyway. Still gettin' used to it. What about you?" Desert sunlight brightens and breezes continue lightly licking at pages as Zinakoth lingers to listen to Rhiscorath, the faint, mysterious melody of an echoing flute playing just at the edges of hearing in his agreement. « Indeed. And more to come soon for you, yes? »

Mayte doesn't echo G'tan's pose, but she does hunch her shoulders as a quick breeze hits her back, giving her to turn to look at him more fully. "Linny's cool," Mayte says decisively, but is distracted by G'tan's origins: "Ista, huh? Like that Oldtimer," and Mayte's watching G'tan's reaction carefully, "D'ren." The whole name thing was evidently a ruse. "I've been here a few Turns," the Weyrling replies, "Came from VintnerHall as an apprentice, and things just… worked out." One hand waves at Rhiscorath. Rhis sips and nibbles through her meal, pausing to observe Zinakoth. Dustmotes dance and are shooed away so the reply is clear. « I will organize all the things. » Despite the grammatical error, there's amusement echoing those words. « They need it. » Ahem. A hum of astute learning from a few rows and stacks of books down rises for a moment when Rhis turns to finish her meal, and then « You have heard of Ista's new gold? » The last word has fancy scrolling around it, even as Mayte asks the same question.

Nodding, G'tan shifts yet again, though this time it's to rub at his arms. "Yeah. 'cept I'm from now. Didn't really wanna leave, but…y'know. Things happen." There's another grin as Mayte reveals her Vinternercraft origins. "Oh yeah? You the one responsible for all the good booze around here, then?" It's half teasing, but he's genuinely curious. He hasn't had a bad drink yet! "Though I guess you don't have too much time to mess around with all that anymore. Ever miss it?" Zinakoth gives another rumble, amused, and sunlight shifts back to his ruins and a canyon at sunset, a single shaft of light illuminating a boulder carved with heiroglyphs and pictograms - strange writing, the meaning of most known only to the bronze himself. A new symbol start to form, slowly, rock dust carried away on the breeze. « All the things, » he echoes, chuckling a little. « You will work long. » The forming glyph pauses at the question, light briefly rippling as if through water. « I have heard her name…but have not met her. »

Mayte ahhs and shrugs, "Yep. They do happen." Is there an echo or something? She's not shy with her grin, though, "Yeah. My red blends should be on sale pretty soon at Corks and Works," Humility? What is this 'humile'? "Well, the journeywoman there is really good too, and maybe they'll send a decent replacement for me one of these turns…" The babble slows and Mayte shakes her head, "Nope… I do, but at least I can still drink it." There's a quick arch look at G'tan, "I would have taken you for a whiskey man, m'self…" The boulder is visited, copied and drawn, each pictogram traced with agonizing accuracy for later examination. « I enjoy it, » is the prim reply, not daring to scrawl over the drawing of the boulder. Under that, the beginning of a family tree starts, ending with Rhis, but that's quickly erased with other distractions. « Do you like Igen Weyr? » Some hometown pride and sand in an hourglass trickles through. « We have much sand. » Luxurious.

"Sometimes I am," G'tan tells her with a shrug, and suddenly he's off the fence, still rubbing his arms and starting to pace, first nearer the young goldrider, then away. "But us Istan boys seem to have a thing for rum," he says, grinning again, "which I'm sure Cha'el's made pretty clear. I'll have to go see what I think of this red stuff you're talkin' about, though." Zinakoth's glyph continues to form as Rhiscorath inspects his boulder. « It would seem tedious to most, » he notes, peripherally examining that family tree before it's erased. « I do like it here, » he affirms. « Far more than mine does. It is strong, It stands through much. » A sense of solidarity is found in the desert ruins of his mind with his new home, and he gives a short hum. « I sometimes miss the jungles and beaches of Ista, though. »

Ah hah! Mayte brightens, looking a little smug as well that she guessed at least half-right. The mention of the Weyrsecond has Mayte pursing her lips together thoughtfully though, a wisp of shadow across her expression. "Yeah, you should," she says instead of following up on it, that grin returning but then like lightning, Mayte shifts to a new subject: "Hey, gotta question…" She lets it trail off for a moment and then starts again, "When you're doing sweeps, do you ever circle back? Just, randomly, or unexpectedly?" The girl's body language has tightened, as if to not give the origin of the question away. Over yonder, Rhis nods approvingly. « But most are not as effective. » Dragon burn. « He will come to enjoy it. And we have jungles! Well… » The vision of the Lost Oasis slowly paints itself on a page, in water colours. « Kind of. »

The sudden shift to a rather random question comes as G'tan is meandering back toward Mayte, and a puzzled crease comes to his brow as he thinks. "Huh," is his initial answer as he comes to lean against the fence next to her, one elbow propped up atop it. "You mean getting lost, sort of? Not really…though I can see how it might happen over the desert every now and then. Why?" Zinakoth snorts, though not without humor. His boulders and heiroglyphs are quite effective enough, thank you very much! For him, at least. « He is starting to. Knowing a few people here helps. » The image of the oasis is examined, thrown into faded depiction on the red stone of a canyon wall. « That is not the same. But it is…unique. Somewhere we will have to visit. »

Mayte's own sudden topic shift has her shifting on her perch. "Not… lost," she starts hesitantly, "More like doubling back." There's possibly something on Mayte's mind, from how she's hedging. "Over some of the cotholds, maybe, just checking that everything's… as secure as the holders say it might be?" Mayte is probably going to get yelled at for this, but she huffs impatiently, "I know it'd add some time to your sweeps but could you try it?" A grin over at Zinakoth, "He looks like he can make up the time…" That's a compliment, right? Rhiscorath huffs at the misunderstanding. « Not you. Those who are less diligent. » They know who they are. « We have many interesting people to meet. » The gold's head has swiveled to look at Mayte briefly. « He is meeting one. » The subtle humour of this gold glimmers a little. « Mine has interesting memories of it, but we will go sometime too. » An agenda is filled out, date, time, and location before the page flips with a breath of air.

G'tan thinks he has a good guess what that something might be, a brow rising and a crooked smile growing as he looks up at the young goldrider. "Ohhh, I get it. With all the shit goin' on out there lately, yeah, it'd be a good thing to try. Doubling back with the bronzes and browns, tag-teaming the blues and greens…" He gives a thoughtful nod. "Nice thinkin.' Not my - our," he amends switching his finger back and forth between himself and Mayte, "place to put it in action, but we can definitely make suggestions. Maybe bring it up to Sadaiya? I'll see what Cha'el and W'rin think." At the compliment, Zinakoth doesn't preen - but G'tan does, standing a little straighter and waggling his eyebrows a little as he sends another grin at Mayte. "Damn right he can. We'd be up for it, no problem." Zinakoth glances over at the riders as well, blinking at them. « He is, » the bronze affirms, and the the lighting in his canyon dims somewhat, eroded ruins suddenly veiled in greenery and the sky set ablaze with an ocean sunset instead of a desert one. « You shall have to visit Ista sometime. It has its own beauty. The sand is black, » he observes simply, though there is a touch of wistfulness there.

Mayte nods, her smile growing a little when G'tan gets the idea. "However it works best, right?" The goldrider opens her mouth, thinks of it, and shuts it again, lips pursing closed on another idea, but she eyes the humble Zinakoth with a grin before looking back to G'tan: "He is pretty darn big," she says with no little amount of admiration in her tone. That's what she said, indeedy. Rhiscorath sets to imitating the colours of Zinakoth's sunset with water colours and a heartfelt sigh that ripples through grass and books alike. « Black sand? » she echoes, and a vain moment is spent considering the image of her own wings stretched over black, sparkling sand, which spills over slightly. « Yes. » the young gold decides. « I must see this, catalogue it. Bring some home, perhaps. » How artistic to think of black sand in half the Hatching Caverns to contrast the rest.

The comment on Zinakoth's size does finally draw a grateful rumble from the bronze, who sits up, licking his chops clean of the meal he's finally finished. G'tan laughs, shifting to lean back against the fence with both shoulders now. "That he is. Maybe not too built, but definitely long." Ahem. "He says thanks, by the way. But yeah, we'll see about the doubling up thing. I, uh…think Zin wants to show her Ista now," the bronzerider observes, looking at his lifemate with a snort of amusement. "Gonna have to wait a few months, mate." Zinakoth sighs for the imagery, blinking at Rhiscorath's rendition of it in watercolors. Intriguing. « I am sure they wouldn't mind, » he says to the idea of bringing some sand back. Perhaps he wouldn't mind, either.

Following G'tan's line of sight, Mayte examines the bronze a little more closely and grins. "No probs." Easy peasy. "Now?" Mayte is amused by this notion: "Uh, I've got some meetings this afternoon I can't get away from," mainly because Rhiscorath is turning to Look at her. It is the full look of Secretarial Disappointment. It's like your mother's but she knows where you are. "But, uh, maybe on the next day we have off, right? I'm pretty sure W'rin'd let me go." A little nose wrinkle: "A couple of months?" Teasingly, she adds, "Didja get in some trouble at Ista that you're waiting to die down or something?" Whichever, Mayte is chuckling to herself, "But yeah, that'd be neat. Go meet the new Weyrwoman and stuff." Rhiscorath makes the rare rumble of agreement, her tail twitching in anticipation. « Yes… Pretty black sand. It will be lovely. » The image of black sand on a table, drawn into a silhouette of Igen's shape. « That would be an excellent research expedition. » Mayte, on her part, sighs… "But yeah," she says reluctantly to G'tan, "I should probably be getting back to the Council room and stuff." Whatever 'stuff' may entail, she gives the man a quirked grin, "Was nice meeting with you. Um. Rhiscorath says she'd love to talk more about Ista, if Zinakoth doesn't mind sunning for a bit." Man, dragons have the easy life. Rhis snorts.

"No, no, not now," G'tan laughs, though he eyes his lifemate pointedly. A little insistence going on there? Probably. "And, uh…yeah, you could say that. Broke my wingleader's nose," is the short explanation he gives, scrubbing a hand over stubbled jaw. "Whenever I feel like I'm not gonna get the same thing done, I'll head back. You're welcome to come, of course. Or, y'know, just head over yourself, since you'll be wearin' that big fancy knot soon," he says with a wink. Then he pushes off the fence, holding out his hand in an offer to help Mayte off her perch as well. "Good to meet you, too, Mayte. And yeah, Zin'll be happy to sit there and chat with her all day about it, if she wants. She's not noisy upstairs. He likes that."

Mayte ooohs at G'tan's daring, but adds, "They'd be nuts to assault a goldrider's escort, though." Would they? Really? Whichever. Mayte shrugs and eyes Zinakoth and then G'tan again, "That'd be cool, too," about going on her own, "But I'd probably get lost, and someone would annoy me, and then," hands spread helplessly, "Well, better if I go with someone who knows his way around, the first time." Hopping down from her fence-sitting right after G'tan (maybe she didn't see his hand), Mayte stuffs hands in her pockets and looks up at him, "Well met, G'tan. I'll see you around, okay?" Rhis is nearly belching her happiness with her snack and rises to move away from her meal, leading towards a sunnier patch. "She likes that too," Mayte comments, turning to watch the gold briefly, "She likes no talking in her archives." With that and a jaunty little salute, Mayte starts heading back down towards the Central Bowl, turning perhaps to see if she hates to see G'tan leave, but loves to watch him go.

G'tan opens his mouth as if to contend that, then seems to consider her words and grins again. "That's a good point," he notes, retracting his unused hand with as if he meant to not have it noticed. "See ya around!" With that, he makes his way off toward the Bazaar by way of the caravan grounds, leaving Zinakoth to his nattering with the young queen…and Mayte to reach a decision about the impression he makes on his way out.

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