A'lira, Amarante, Malosim


Conversation tries to avoid blueglow and fails, though Malosim brings up an interesting possibility…and also gets a commission.


It is sunset of the seventh day of the first month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Living Cavern, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 20 Jan 2018 07:00


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"Is it organic or geological?"


Living Cavern

Brightly lit by a regimented march of strung glow-globes, Igen's busy living caverns are cut of the same exotic limestone design that frequents the bazaar without. Tapestries line the tops of the walls, one for each of Igen's wings, past and present; beneath them, skybroom tables litter the floors in scattered profusion. Some of the wicker chairs have seen better days, but most of the worst offenders have long-ago been replaced. The seemingly random placement of furniture, however, at closer inspection yields a sort of cross-shape of negative space. The northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns are owned by the kitchen's buffet, food-laden thrice daily in regimented shifts by busy bakers from the curtained southern entrance to the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside; westerly lies the large doors leading down into the bowels of the weyr itself.

Oh, look, he does exist: a tall, broad brownrider, rumored to number among the new dragonhealer trainees, doing his rounds with the same cam equanimity as he'd shown during weyrlinghood. But he's got to fuel that long muscular body of his sometime; and so he appears in the Living Caverns, sufficiently jacketed against winter's thrilling touch in his usual monochrome fashion of gray and black, bald head naked to the chilly air. On securing some food — the usual salad, tubers, and wherry — A'lira looks about for someplace to park his butt and begin laying waste to his meal. Finally, he settles on one of the little round tables near the Hearth, settling in with a sigh: it's been a long day, full of hypochondriacs and minor injuries and sheer inefficient stupidity — he may just have to ensconse himself in his rabbit's-warren of a weyr and never come out, if this is how his week is gonna go.

Sorry, A'lira, but the part of that peace that involved being alone is not going to last too long: he's a familiar face amongst a sea of unfamiliar faces, and so an equally harried-looking Amarante is going to take a seat at the brownrider's table. This prevents her from sitting with anyone who is actually going to start asking her things she can't answer (see, again, hypochondriacs) — and would even save her from conversation, maybe, if she weren't one of the chattiest humans alive. "Hi," she says, smiling very brightly for someone who looks half asleep, "finally getting dinner? This is actually lunch for me but it's still — it's been pretty bad in the dragon yard too, I think, I saw a lot of traffic out there."

Apparently Malosim has spent his day in parts beyond the Weyr; travel clothes are still dusty, despite his best efforts to slap it all out before coming in, and his cheeks still bear the high color of cold. The Miner makes a beeline for the klah hearths with their invitingly flickering fires, taking up a mug and filling it full. There's a generous amount of sweetener dumped in as well as some milk, and then he's just going to stand there, thawing and waiting for the klah to not be tongue-scalding. Only then does he notice those nearby. "Evenin', brownrider, journeyman," he greets with a grin. "Sorry if I'm…standin' a little close." But it's so warm.

Well, he knew someone'd find him eventually! A'lira squints hard at Amarante for a long moment, all that tasty wherry stuck there like some kind of unwilling sacrifice, before it's waved at Amarante and Malosim. "Long's neither of you gonna ask me about that damn blue goo, I don't care." And he stares hard at the pair, just daring them to even think about it. He's really wishing y'all would test a brotha this day. "Yeah, they all decided today was the best day t'ask." Stupid blue goo. Smurfs everywhere up in this joint, and the A'lira Is. Not. Amused.

"Are … people putting that on dragons?" Amarante, concerned. Or maybe just bewildered, or curious: "Could you even see it on a blue? Maybe some of the darker ones, but I know I've seen dragons that shade. I get asked a lot too, on account of my initial role, but I keep telling people that Baezyl is doing the goat study and they should go ask him, and on the other hand I don't actually want to torture Baezyl either …" She trails off to force herself to actually sip her water instead of continuing the tired ranting. "Promise I won't say another word about it, though, and no, sir," knot-check for Malosim, "Journeyman, you're welcome to stand as close as you're comfortable."

"No askin' from me," Malosim assures the brownrider with a quick grin, finally able to sip at his klah. "I'll stick with rolling my eyes at the knock-offs I see getting passed around the Bazaar." He ticks a couple of fingers off his brow at Amarante. "Malosim," since he'd rather not get Journeyman-ed while off duty, "and thanks." He takes in talk of the blue stuff despite only passing interest, deciding it's probably better not to open his mouth over something he knows very little about. Besides, the big brownrider did say he didn't want to be asked about it!

"Faranth, they'd better not be!" A'lira growls in annoyance, setting his fork down in alarm. "I keep tellin' 'em myself. Ask Baezyl, not me. But they don't listen." Because, you know, logic and crap like that, it does not compute for the unwashed masses. "Mostly, they're puttin' it on themselves, like ijits, for everything under the sun. And askin' me all sorts-a weird-ass questions, like I got time to keep track of all that." He gives Malosim a semi-amused look. "A'lira." He introduces himself offhandededly. He's so not interested in being 'sirred' either. All he has for the knock-offs rolling around is a roll of his eyes, because he doesn't even want to get started on the large volume of dupes he's been seeing slinking abashedly into the Yard because they don't want a tongue lashing from the Healers.

Oh, yes, names. Amarante the wired-and-tired has one of those too, though it's not the first thing out of her mouth. "People are coming to me because I'm the wound specialist and because I was there, I treated that first patient, but — I don't really do animal research and it's too early stage for me to know much." Is there a little bit of guilt on her eyes there as she glances away from both of the men and off to the left? Or is that seeing something that isn't there? "So it's not really anything I can talk about. But I wasn't sure about dragons, I don't know much. I keep saying no when Th'bek tries to Search me. I'm Amarante, by the way," she tells Malosim properly with a waggle of fingers, "I'm just technically not off duty so you can get away with Journeyman instead if you'd rather."

Malosim almost laughs; he'd be one of the "ijits" who'd try and put it on himself, if he had any. And if it seemed like a good option at the time, but it would have to be that or death, most likely. He's not completely dense. He just isn't keen on visiting the Healers if he doesn't need to. "A'lira and Amarante. Well met," he says with a tip of his mug…and since the subject isn't actually getting dropped, he ventures, "That stuff came up out of Kurkar, didn't it? A cave?"

Fortunately, A'lira had been nowhere around when it showed up, but he's had to observe the aftermath, with all the witless scuttling about like chickens with missing heads, wings flapping and feet scrabbling to no good effect. "Enh, if you ain't a part of the research goin' on, why would you know?" He asks logically, all too aware of how things can get away from one when one isn't the main focus of the doings. As to refusing Search, he gives Amarante a squint of amusement. "Hmm… maybe I'll come carry you on the Sands this time, drop you on an egg. See what happens." Hey, it'd make for an amusing ancedote to Hatching Day, A'lira getting punched by Amarante. Perhaps she'll even knock him out, give those irritating little kids that keep following him something to laugh at! "Yeah, they found it on that kid they were looking for…" He muses at Malosim thoughtfully, taking a sip of his wine. Where'd that come from? Who knows, A'lira tends to magically have things when he wants to.

Amarante has a built in excuse now, and she beams at A'lira as she says proudly, "I'm too old now." That was a turnday she waited for with bated breath; while standing had been fun, it was ultimately distracting and she was so firmly against Impression that a dragon would never have chosen her. "Mm, it was on a little girl who'd gotten lost in caves. There's still quite a bit of it available at the source, but also a lot of people selling … things in the bazaar that I can't verify are actually safe to put on wounds … I've had to dig at least one knock off substance out of a wound, and I wasn't sure the limb was going to — we're eating," Amarante remembers that not everyone is as wonderful a conversation partner as Divale. "What sort of work do you do, when you're crafting? I've got a firelizard who collects shiny little trinkets from places people are mining, sometimes, I try to give them back."

With both dragonrider and Healer confirming what he'd heard, Malosim nods over the rim of his mug, his other arm folding across his chest as he adopts a lean against the hearth. "Is it organic or geological?" he wants to know. "Or is that somethin' that's still being figured out?" If there's a chance it's coming from the rock…/well. That would be interesting, and he might just have something new to investigate.

"Damn. And here I thought I was gonna finally get my revenge." A'lira laughs heartily, teasing Amarante just a little bit. But oh, well, that's life; you can't always have what you want, no matter how much you might wish it. "Oh, yeah, I did that today. Idjit riders and their lame ideas…" He doesn't seem to care about gory details — hasn't he been elbow deep in gory since he became a Healer himself? But still, maybe poor Malosim would like to not know what the inside of the human body looks like, all covered in random juices and other grossness? And then he simply stares, round-eyed, at the Miner. Now there is a question. Malosim would ask about those sorts of things of which A'lira hasn't the foggiest notion. He'll just leave that question out there for Amarante to debate! And also, he's very curious as to what this particular Journeyman does, being a new face around the place and all.

"I'm not sure," Amarante confesses, head canted to one side a little as she considers it. "It may have been figured out at this point and I just don't know, though that seems unlikely … I figured it's likely some kind of combination but I realize now that was an assumption. Like, it's some kind of worm goo that comes out that way because it eats a certain kind of crumbly pebble or something. But I really have no idea, I don't know much about how that works. Though I do know some worms eat rocks." It's also becoming more and more obvious that she's starting to fall asleep, which is why it's even worse that one of the Healer-banded firelizards blinks in and lands near her with a note.

Well, now! Malosim is officially intrigued, even though a definite answer is still up in the air. "Huh!" He takes another sip, an alert thoughtfulness coming to his features. "If it's not clear, maybe the Minecraft can help figure it out. We haven't ventured too far in Kurkar yet, and I haven't had the chance…" There's A'lira's answer about his craft. The appearance of the firelizard with the note for Amarante is watched for a moment, a smirk tugging up one corner of his mouth. "No breaks for you, huh?"

Oh, look, the harbinger of doom for Amarante. Hopefully that harbringer keeps her from faceplanting into her meal, though. A'lira is all sympathy, though; he's had his marathon runs in the infirmary, and is still occasionally called on to deal with the short maniacs. Something about being climbable or somesuch. "Really. Worms eating rocks." Oh, he so doesn't want to know right now — that's just too much information right now for his tired brain to process. Maybe some other time, he'll ask to observe this phenomenon, as he's always curious about new information. But right now, his belly is curious about getting on the outside of more food, and he shovels up a few forkfuls like a man who hasn't seen food in about eleventy billion turns. OMNOMNOM! "Miner, eh?" He puts to Malosim. "Mmm, I think I gotta pick your brain about a thing sometime." Does that sound faintly ominous? Oh, likely it does: A'lira tends to sound mildly threatening to the uninitiated. Or at least, those whose brains have not quite gotten past his size to his essentially gentle nature, anyway — a good problem to have for the less-than-cooperative patients among the riders. Good thing he's a big boy who can take a punch and pin the thrashers when it's needed.

Amarante s-l-o-w-l-y opens the message that was brought to her, and does seem to slump even more in her chair as she reads. Then she forces herself to sit up straight, downs the rest of her ice water in one go, gulps, and returns to that slightly manic smile: "None at all, no. I mean, I technically got one, and it was warm, and at least I get to go to bed in a couple of hours but — back to the trenches for me!" She definitely sounds too excited to still be entirely in her right mind. "Thankfully not seeing patients directly because I'd need a nap before doing that, but I have … pharmacy … things … to deal with. Lovely talking to you all!" And exit Amarante, and the firelizard, stage infirmary. To return again once she's had that nap.

The fact that Amarante downs that ice water without flinching leaves Malosim blinking and vaguely impressed. "Good luck, journeyman," he says as he watches the Healer take off, leaving him with the big brownrider. "Yep! Miner," he confirms A'lira's earlier question, slipping into the chair Amarante just vacated. "Sure you don't wanna pick my brain about a thing now?" Since they've apparently got a little time, A'lira with his dinner and Mal with his klah. He doesn't seem intimidated or put off by the bigger man at all. Perhaps it owes to working in a Craft full of similarly-built fellows.

The stoic is strong with Amarante; it's how she keeps big fellows like A'lira in line when they get scratchy. He relaxes some as his belly stops imitating a newborn dragon convinced its about to expire from hunger and settles back some, idly rubbing his flat stomach and contemplating what's left of his meal. Hey, did he have a bubbly yet? No? Well, he'll get to it eventually. Oh, how good it is not to be side-eyed by lesser beings, which clearly Malosim is not one of. "Yeah, s'pose I could, since you're conveniently placed, and all…" And he smiles that lazy, lazy smile of his, all white teeth and sparkling eyes. "I found this little sparkly rock, and I was wonderin' how long it'd take to get it set nice."

Ahhhh, familiar territory, this. Malosim leans forward, folding his arms upon the table and giving A'lira a comfortable smile. This is his wheelhouse, after all. "Well, depends on what kind of sparkly rock it is, whether you want it set raw or cut, and what you want it set as." Pendant? Ring? Something else? "You wouldn't happen to have it with you?" the Miner mentions. "I can tell you right off. Or describe it for me, barring that…"

Oh. OH. Yeah, A'lira knows next to nothing about that sort of thing. It involves details about jewelry settings and whatnot. But Malosim is in luck! He has it with him. Out of his pocket he pulls it, a pretty little thing of banded browns and ambers, small, but beautiful nonetheless. "Reminds me of a certain lady's eyes, so I'd want it… y'know, cleaned up, set into some kinda cord and stuff. She does a lot of healin' for the Zingari, so I don't think she'd wear rings, but. Somethin' for our weyrmatin'." Soon, so soon! He hasn't forgotten, though he's stayed well away from the planning stages. He's too much the dude to have any interest in the details. All he needs to know is where to stand when the time comes.

Needless to say, Malosim looks eagerly pleased when it turns out that A'lira has the stone with him, holding out his hand so that he might inspect it closer. "Ohhh, tigereye, huh? Beautiful stuff." He gives A'lira a grin, brandishing the stone between thumb and forefinger. "This is pretty easy, actually. Get it cut down to an oval, a cabochon, and polished. Won't take near as long as needing something faceted. Setting it in cord, though… That's a new one. But I think I've got the way. You picturing a bracelet or a pendant? I can set you up with either."

A'lira beams in satisfaction when Malosim comes up with the perfect idea for a setting. Whaddya know, he's gone and found himself the perfect person for the job at hand, and all he had to do was appear in public! Perhaps he should do that more often. "Whichever you think is best — I really got no idea. Just need it set so it don't cause her no trouble when she's working…" And then he has a spark of an idea: "Maybe a necklace? Kinda short, so it don't dangle everywhere." Anything to subtly — very subtly — mark her as his in a way. Not as a possession, but as a friend, a lover, a lifelong human partner. "Long's the material's soft. She's got the most gorgeous soft skin…" Stow it down, Al, you're out in public and whatnot.

Malosim can't help but give A'lira an understanding grin for his last. "No worries, mate, I've gotcha," he assures the brownrider with a knowing wink. "I think I know just the thing. Give me this and a sevenday, and…say six marks split between two artisans, and you'll have yourself one unique necklace to pass on to your love. Deal?" To which he'll offer his hand for A'lira to take if all sounds reasonable.

A'lira will definitely take it! After all, Malosim seems to know what's up with A'lira's sudden drift into outer space somewhere. The brownrider takes Malosim's hand and shakes on it, sealing the deal with another grin. "Sounds good t'me." He even has the six marks ready to hand over. And maybe an extra for having neatly solved the problem of how to get that stone set in time for the lovely Igraine's pretty neck.

"Hang onto those 'til you get the result," Malosim tells A'lira after shaking on their arrangement, shaking his head with a grin. "Wouldn't want you to pay for something that isn't to your liking. Anyway…" He downs the last of his klah with a satisfied sigh and pushes back from the table. "I'll get to work. Be in touch soon, brownrider A'lira." He gives the man a bow and tucks the stone into his pocket with care, striding off for home with a few different reasons to be excited now well in hand.

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