Who

Divale, Eala, Ko'an, Lemia

What

Ko'an finds Divale in the Underground, where they're soon joined by Lemia and Eala…

When

It is afternoon of the twenty-fifth day of the first month of the tenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Glowlight Grotto, Kurkar Hold

OOC Date 31 Jan 2017 05:00

 

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Glowlight Grotto

The immense glowlight cavern gleams with a constellation of little lights, all the walls and ceilings shining in tones of nebula blue. Water drips from the luminescent ceilings, gathering down below in a great cool calm inner lake. A series of walkways wind across the water, where they meet at last in a landing toward the back. There a latticed pergola shelters low tables of lacquered wood. Just outside the pergola, and before the back wall, a space has been cleared and tiled in dark and light squares, as if they formed a life-size chessboard. The banded stone of the back wall has been chiseled into a damaged bas-relief of people and animals at play. A draconic sculpture rises out of the relief into full-fledged statuary, its taloned hands cupped to hold glows.


On a wintry day such as this, there’s one perk to visiting Kurkar Hold and that is the protection it offers from the worst of the cold. Divale’s purpose for being here is neither shelter or nostalgia but rather a mystery only she knows the truth behind. It’s not highly unusual for the brownrider to be wandering the many tunnels and caverns. What could be considered unusual is the lack of a knot pinned to her shoulder or any of her usual Parhelion insignia; otherwise she’s dressed as she normally is. She arrives at the grotto through one of the lesser used tunnels as well, moving with the quiet confidence of someone familiar enough with the area to do so. No one else is with her, at the time being and, stepping out into the eerie glowlight, she’ll be seen, briefly, moving across and towards the latticed pergola. Outside, Lukoith has settled himself somewhere out of the way of the main roadway leading into the Hold itself, though it would not be difficult to spot him regardless, as a midday sun does not favour his darker colouring at all.

It's been awhile since Ko'an has come here. Truth be told, he rarely has reason to with the rest of his extracurricular activities keeping him well-occupied elsewhere. However, there is the rare instance where a request is made that drags him down into this maze of tunnels and implied secrets. Some part of some Deal. Some person for some ware or information or conversation that needs to be had a little closer to home than he likes to linger. Whatever or whomever brings him here is clearly not timely, however, for the man paces along the only thing in this underground tomb that bids him some bit of familiarity. His boots thud quietly, mutedly along the walkway he meanders in no hurry. One hand rests on the hilt of a cutlass, the other relaxed at his side. Too-light eyes are illmuniated by the ethereal shine of the grotto, pronounced ever so much more by the rugged darkness that lines more than just his casual, neutral face. The bronzerider is dressed in his typical black leathers with a duster coat too long to announce him as a rider, and no other cord of hue or signia to tag him as anything other than a man swathed in black and faintly glinting silver. If it is not this that gives him away, surely the way he walks- as if he owns this place too like everywhere else he goes- is a swagger distinct and bold. Another end of another walkway, another turn to retrace his path, and the movement of Divale bids him pause. A heavy sigh dismisses the disappointment of her not being the one he waits for, but a faint and devilishly crooked grin take its place. Zodaiyath hadn't been nearby the Hold or its roadways. At least, not close enough to give the man's presence away. But recognition of Lukoith's rider has the familiar ominous movement of something ethereal and wicked ghosting over waters black and foul. A message from one to the other, crafting of words unnecessary. He'd continue on until he comes to that pergola, a silver-ringed hand settled on a post, his serpentine voice a mixture of silken charisma and a rogue's gravel, "A charming little spot, love. What brings you here, a date perhaps? Charming some pretty lass for the evening?"

Others may not recognize him, but there is one who would just by the duster alone and, perhaps, that cutlass (of all things). Divale has settled herself by one of the beams where the glows cannot fully shed their ethereal light, cloaking her in half-shadow but at the sound of approaching footsteps, she’ll subtly straighten. Just a slight lift of her head and an obvious tense, alert shift to her posture. Naturally dark eyes are darker still as they fix on the source and there’s minimal relief when Lukoith passes on that message from Zodaiyath. Words are indeed unnecessary, but she’ll watch Ko’an with a mix of amused wariness regardless. Despite their last little meeting in her weyr, she’s cautious still when it concerns the bronzerider. Silent, she’ll wait, gaze lifting along with a lone brow as he settles his silver-ringed hand on that post but his greeting is met with a wry, if faint, grin. “Mhm, if only!” A dry chuckle briefly follows, “But much to my disappointment that’s not the case,” she murmurs in a voice equally as low spoken, only to have it take on a different edge; near growled. “Hunting down different prey. No luck.” A sigh follows that revelation. “Which is damn frustrating as I have so little time to squander these days to just run in circles.” Yet she seems unhurried to resume her “work”, settling a little more comfortably against the beam as she folds her arms across her chest and fixing him with a shrewd look and narrowed gaze. “Business drawing you to these depths, today too, then?”

"A shame indeed. I would have enjoyed the show." Self-invited to the date-that-never-was. Ko'an drawls as if he's really so disappointed or distracted by the thought. He considers her as she settles where she does and offers him such an answer. "Is this.. wing business, or personal?" Because he takes great pains to give Parhelion as wide a berth as possible. "If it's the latter, I might be persuaded to grant my assistance." The offer is extended and, outright, seems to be hung from no strings. The fingers of his drum once against the wood of the pergola, the silver glinting with the same threat as a blade and bathed in just as much blood. It's discontent and a betrayal of his usually impenetrable attitude of nonchalance and unhurried behaviour. "Unfortunately, aye. And that business seems to have made the poor choice of wasting my time." There's an unkind glint in his sea blue eyes that drown in depths made more surreal by the glow of the caverns. Steely, dangerous, dark. Purgatory's displeasure and the salty edge of the man's annoyance are heavy, something far less subtle writhing beneath the surface as the oily, fetid, vicious darkness of His soul-deep bound.

Divale scoffs quietly but that faint grin is still in play, if not curving with a wry edge to it now, “At the rate you enjoy showing up uninvited to my weyr? You may just interrupt something, some day.” Highly unlikely, but she makes the joke all the same. “Personal,” she admits without hesitation and, smirking now, gestures with the barest flick of her fingers to the absence of a knot or any of her usual Wing insignias. Isn’t it obvious? Undoubtedly, she’ll get into a fair bit of trouble (or questioned) for lacking both, but for now she seems unconcerned. There is interest in that offer and she tilts her head slightly as she mulls over it. No strings attached is a tempting deal but in the end she turns it down… somewhat. “Don’t normally work with assistance and given this has proven to be nothing but dead ends and run-arounds, I won’t waste your time, at least. If I should manage to corner the bastard… then, perhaps…” She spreads her hands a bit as she shrugs. Then the fun begins? For them. Not her intended target. Her tongue clicks in a typical ’tsk’ fashion and she shakes her head, “How rude of them and likely something they’ll regret, if you happen to run across them again?” she muses, quiet and dark in her own manner from where she leans against the pergola’s inner beam. Cloaked as she is in half-shadow, it’d be difficult to see either of them from afar but even in lowered conversation, there’s still a chance that that sound carries.

The rustling of wings somewhere near the ceiling announces the presence of some flying creature, whose lithe form sticks to the small pockets of shadow which the glowlights cannot reach. It's there and gone again, vanishing into the vaster darkness of between before she can be identified. Some length of minutes later, there's the sound of footsteps descending into the cavern, as a slim, hooded figure makes its way into the grotto. It's likely female, if size and those slender fingers are any indication, but any distinctive features — say, sun-bright blonde hair — are hidden beneath that length of fabric. The woman makes her way down the winding path toward the water, that hooded head lifting only long enough to spy the lounging forms of Divale and Ko'an, and to keep a careful distance between them. When she reaches the shore of that inner lake, she pulls a small flask out of the folds of her cloak and squats down to fill it. Those rustling wings can be heard again, as a darkened green firelizard descends from above to land upon her shoulder. Eala hands the flask off to the 'lizard, who swiftly takes wing again with the strap of the vessel in her mouth. This strange task completed, the hooded greenrider steps away from the pool, searching out a spot along the pathway where she can oh-so-subtly watch the activities around her. Only the barest attempt is made at hiding her intentions.

Though Lemia has been here for quite some time, she has yet to explore all the Igen coverage area has to offer. She flew to the new hold wanting to explore. Stepping into the glowlight grotto, her breath is taken away. Such hidden gems below the sandy surface, exploring this cave system has been as fun as exploring the central range caves had been. Moss green eyes take in the blue-lit cavern with wide eyed wonder. She wanders the cave though voices from within catch her attention, one voice in particular seems to be familiar. Lemia drifts toward it, intending to say hello.

"A man can only hope." Ko'an responds too-smoothly, though he finally relinquishes watching her to look out over the walkways as if yet still half-expecting someone to show up despite the tardiness. Or perhaps he's just drifted in his thoughts, sails let down to be taken as the underworld's pregnant, nigh-stagnant winds may wish them. That hooded figure draws into his periphery as seaborne gaze catalogues the passersby of the grotto, though he so rarely does business with women that the petite form is but a notation made and then partially dismissed. Though there's something perhaps that bothers him, a difficult thing to manage, and it can't entirely be ignored. The details of Divale's lack of knot were noted, but that didn't confirm enough that he wasn't treading too closely to Parhelion's realm. Dangerous, that. The answer of her personal agenda brings that grin to a slightly more evident smirk, the little lines at the edges of his kohl-rimmed eyes prominent as his amusement reaches them. Lazily does he look back at her, his leathers rustling in the muted earthy dullness of his brief shrug, "Understood, lass. Far easier to cut unnecessary weight. Whatever this lad did, is it enough to earn your particular sort of wrath, or simply a stern talking to?" There's dry sarcasm there of course, a little mockery and implied knowledge to the feigned innocence of the question. "As perhaps you can imagine, time is a difficult thing to come by. I don't appreciate such impolite behavior. I'm not an entirely heartless man, but there are-" he gestures vaguely, "particular consequences, I suppose."

Divale just levels Ko’an with a look for that too-smooth response and though her grin briefly returns, it’s replaced by something not quite a smirk but faintly edged in wickedness. “If I refer to ‘hunting’ someone, do you think it’d be merely for a stern talking to?” she points out in her driest tone and a shallow chuckle. “No, this business,” Sarcasm laces her voice now. “Is long overdue. He’s run afoul of me more than once, has done considerable damage to someone I care about and while I may have promised that someone I wouldn’t act in retaliation, well…” Apparently she never meant to keep it, nor intends to let it be known that she’s still trailing after this unknown man. Another sigh, this one tinged with obvious frustration. “And I’m running out of time and, as you put it, it is difficult to come by.” Amusement returns, as does a vague wry smirk. “Particular consequences that do not involve a ‘stern talking to’, I’d imagine?” she muses in a mocking tone, turning his very words back on him. Movement has her abruptly silenced, as her posture shifts again and she no longer leans so casually against the beam. As before, with his arrival, her stance is one of quiet wariness. Few seem to drift by the grotto, despite the eerie beauty of it. The hooded figure draws her attention first, but the approach of a second has her almost fidgeting with unease until some form of recognition takes hold and keeps her from making a hasty exit. “Not alone,” she mutters, nearly under her breath, unaware that the two newcomers are from her very own Wing.

Is it bad form to spy on one's significant other and wingmate? Probably. But it doesn't seem to phase Eala, who continues to watch the small grouping with increasingly apparent interest as another is added to their number. In fact, as Lemia approaches, the hooded figure who stands to the side now stares at them openly, although that hood obscures all but the barest glimpse of her features. That curiousity doesn't seem to lead to action, however, as she continutes to stand by. Waiting for something? That answer comes as the firelizard returns, winking into existence in the cavern from parts unknown. There's a short, sharp whistle from the woman which echoes against the vaulted ceilings, and the descending green abruptly shifts course to attempt to make her landing atop Ko'an's head instead. And she'll protest mightily should the man not take kindly to being used as a perch. If — or more likely, when — he recognizes the creature, only then will the greenrider approach the group.

As she draws closer, the voice becomes quite recognizable to Lemia. A broad grin slips across her face as she finally comes within viewing distance of Divale. Her body language is relaxed and graceful as she moves up to stand near her fellow wingrider. Moss green eyes take in Ko'an with mild interest, and linger a little longer on Divale's form. "Surprise, surprise." She comments with a toss of her chestnut curls. "I didn't expect to run into anyone today, how are you Divale?" MOss green eyes flick back to Ko'an, who gets a bow of her head in greeting. She jumps when a shrill whistle breaks the near quiet of the cavern. Oh My!

"Revenge, lass? I suppose that is fitting." The man muses, too entertained by the concept for what it is, and by whom it comes to pay it the appropriate seriousness that its history may deserve. "Is this a promise you're so willing to break?" Gaze narrows slightly in that curiosity, though her question makes him cant his head to the side, dismissive of whatever it is that he's planning- or not planning- on doing. His attention strays to those who are coming closer, granting her an answer despite the unfamiliar presences, "I have a way with words, or haven't you noticed?" The grin pulls just enough back to show teeth, a breathy chuckle escaping while the one who approaches them gets eyed- that sort of glance that travels up and down. Inappropriate in some contexts, and his smug cocksure ways would make it ever moreso, though his expression doesn't match it. Almost carefully neutral, his casual stance becomes moreso as he exchanges his hand for his shoulder on the wooden post of the pergola, leaning against it in the semblance of boredom. He crosses his arms as Lemia greets Divale, the bronzerider glancing at the latter for a moment to see what sort of reaction that bids. However, his nonchalant stance and ever-confident poise gets abruptly disrupted when a firelizard lands.. on him? "Bloody hell, get off-" When a shooing gesture is greeted by protests instead of a swift absence of the firelizard, confusion takes pominence. Furrowed features are unkind at first until he takes in who exactly that is- familiar enough of course. "Delta." The name is drawled in his accent, still uncertain and not entirely pleased in spite of it. Pointedly does that attention turn back to the hooded figure while he reaches to collect the notorious little green instead if she hasn't already been turned away. A more knowing grin replaced that displeasure- and the unspoken question is answered in predicted fare, "Poor form, love."

Divale lifts one of her hands up to tilt it back and forth in a ‘more or less’ fashion. “Not quite,” Revenge. “But I suppose that’s as close to describing it.” There is no verbal spoken answer for his inquiry on if she’s so willing to break that promise, just a knowing and ghostly smile and then a low, quiet chuckle for the reminder of his ‘way with words’. “Not something easily forgotten,” she dryly remarks and will leave it as such as the first of the newcomers approaches. Even before Lemia speaks, Divale’s gaze flickers with recognition and some of that wariness dissolves; the lingering look is not entirely missed either and is returned in favour, though with more of a note of amusement. “This is a Hold,” she notes, sarcasm and brashness in full play to her fellow wingmate. “Though I must admit, I am a little surprised to see that it’s you, wandering this deep. Well enough, I suppose. Finding reasons to escape the cold when I’m not required to patrol in it.” She’ll give the greenrider a knowing look, before her attention is roughly pulled away by that sharp whistle. While she’d begun to scowl at the sound, the sight of a firelizard nearly using Ko’an as a perch has that dissolving into an open expression of laughter, which she quickly attempts to hide behind her hand. “Not yours, then?” she teases as she stifles her humour and regains a more neutral masked expression.

Delta absolutely goes for the hair. Always go for the hair. And she doesn't seem the least bit put-off by Ko'an's shooing, for all that she flaps her wings and scolds him with angry chitters. It doesn't chase her away, and when he reaches to collect her, she settles down with no attempt at causing further chaos. It's at this point that Eala pushes her hood back, amusement dancing in her eyes and laughter bubbling past her lips. Her short lived-giggle diminishes into a smug smile as she answers, "I don't know, I got a laugh out of it." There's a shrug at that, before the blonde turns her bright-eyed gaze upon her wingmates. "Divale, Lemia. I didn't expect to see so many familiar faces." Despite the humor that lingers in the curve of her smile, her watchful eyes have lost none of their sharpness, and the focus of that gaze seems to be Divale. "Who knew we all had such an interest in this area?" It's a touch too innocent, as though she just happened to stumble upon this location.

There is no longer occasion to inquire of Divale's more interesting activities, though there could be an assumption for the target of their next 'game', should talking need to fall to excuses again. Instead, the man is rightly distracted, dragging his ringed fingers through his perpetually tussled hair as little talons battle him for it. There's a sort of.. difference about the seaman in light of the now-recognized 'lizard's scolding. While curses still grumble past his lips, and his posture suffers for ducking faintly once or twice to evade the little one's assault, his disapproval wanes rapidly. A tide shifted, the winds changed. Once he has the winged creature in his arms instead of turning his once-threatening, looming presence into something of a thing of humor, he raises a dark brow at Eala, though equally as much at Divale when laughter comes from the both of them. An idle thumb brushes over Delta's eyeridges to soothe her- and, perhaps more importantly, the primordial pack associated with her. Somehow, despite the attempted dent into his ego, a smile draws its way crookedly and playfully, across his scuff-lined features. It touches those eyes of seafoam and darkness, granting a little light there that wasn't there before. "I can think of better ways to surprise me, darling." Though that innocence- he waits, watching as if reading her. "Hardly." This, to Divale, in the question of 'ownership.' "Mine knows better." As in, the little bronze won't even lay a talon on the man unless directed. The last, however, holds the barest flecks of warning in the brownrider's direction, "I'm glad it amuses you so."

"I think this is my best idea yet," is her teasing reply granted to the bronzerider, apparently of a good humor today. But it's not to last. Another firelizard blinks from between, the scrawny brown flapping his way to an awkward landing on Eala's newly-extended arm. He just barely catches himself, on the verge of going tumbling to the ground with the momentum of his sudden stop. He carries with him a note, and it's this that the greenrider unfolds and scans with a furrowed brow. The contents of this missive appear to trouble her, because that frown deepens as her eyes scan the page, right up until the moment that she reaches that final line. "I'll be back," Eala announces, shoving this message into her cloak. "Try not to get into too much trouble, any of you." She includes all three, but the remark is pointedly directed at Divale and Ko'an. She knows you're up to no good. And with no further explanation, the greenrider turns on her heel to disappear further into the depths. Mystery~

Lemia grins at Divale. "As if I'd be anyone else?" Any context of a previous conversation is lost on the greenrider as she takes a look around the caverns. If anyone's looking at her, well, good for them. Eala's presence is noted and it's as if the woman is a ghost, she's gone as quickly as recognized. Well then. Ko'an's attack is giggled at behind a small, dainty hand. HIs comments make it even worse. Really, attack by firelizard can sometimes be hilarious.

“It did!” Divale quips back with just a bit too much cheer in her voice; it’s so obviously mocking, despite being the truth. She’s going to remember that sight of him struggling with Delta but more importantly she’s been observing the change in Ko’an as Eala joins them. That has her curiously silent, though her mouth will quirk into another amused smirk when she brings up the coincidence of them all being here at once. “Who knew?” she echoes back with feigned innocence. She has her own purpose for being here, as she assumes they all do but she doesn’t quite get the chance to ask Eala what brings her here. When the brown arrives with the note, there’s a heavy frown that follows the concern the Wingsecond shows but she’s back to playing coy and innocent for the pointed remark sent her way. “Why ever would I go looking for trouble?” she dryly intones but her dark gaze will follow Eala’s departure for some time; no doubt to mark where she is going and what possible tunnels intersect and just who or what might have drawn her away. Hmm. Darting a look to Lemia, Divale huffs quietly, “Anyone can be whatever they wish down here… or so it was once,” And probably still is.

When Eala's message prompts a sudden exit, it's more or less as though he doesn't hear the words that come after. Though, that's probably a warning he's heard enough times in the past. His expression falters while he watches her leave. And the intensity of that look lasts a few beats too long, until he blinks away from the direction that she is no longer in to the company that remains. Whatever thoughts sit in the wake of her absence go unspoken, his features briefly stern and harder to read than they had been. Lemia's laughter garners a a sigh, a mere semblance of the annoyance that would have been, should have been, after that offense. He shifts his weight slightly, adjusts the companion on his forearm that still yet seems the recipient of displeasure- what with her claws on his coat sleeve. "That is something you have no problem finding, love." Ko'an speaks again to Divale after the note of trouble, "It follows you home well enough." Though, the quieter comment is given more a curious inner notation than more mockery. Rather, dark-rimmed too-light eyes fall on the greenrider he doesn't know, "And who exactly are you, lass? One of Parhelion, I take it." Not exactly the most formal of greetings, but he still has that edge to his voice that makes it sound both gentlemanly and sinister, proper and honey-sweet poisoned.

Lemia nods, lookign at Ko'an. "Aye, Lemia, rider of green Horith, of Parhelion wing. A pleasure to meet you…?" She doesn't have a name for him either, though her green is quick to let her know that he rides one of the bronzes in the area. Hands are planted on slim hips as Lemia gives Ko'an an actual look over, the man isn't half bad for looks, she'll give him that. If she had to bet, she'd guess the bronzer a Whirlwind rider, of whom she knows very few of the riders.

“Or it happens to show up unannounced on my own ledge,” Divale uses her driest tone for that remark and a sidelong look to Ko’an while delivering it. She’s not clearly calling him out, but it’s close enough. “But I don’t deny it.” A vague grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I do tend to lure my fair share of trouble,” And from the way the brownrider shrugs her shoulders, she doesn’t seem to care in the slightest bit. “So far though?” There’s a lift of one hand to vaguely gesture to the grotto itself and their current gathering for conversation. “It seems not to be the case.” Lapsing silent as Ko’an offers a not-quite formal greeting to Lemia, she’ll observe the exchange quietly and spares only a momentary glance out past the pergola again. No other souls come passing through, which draws a brief frown from the young brownrider.

It takes remarkably little time for the greenrider to reappear, emerging from the tunnel from whence she vanished. That hood is drawn up once more, but she allows it to fall once she escapes from the claustrophobia of the tunnels into the welcoming glow of the grotto. Her lips are pursed, a disgruntled expression drawn across her features. But as Eala steps toward the grouping of familiar faces, it smooths itself over until nothing remains of whatever is troubling her. "Well, it looks like you've all managed to get along while I was gone," she announces with a brief quirk of a smile. "I don't see any blood." Was that a possibility? She slips her way onto the little gathering, nudging Ko'an with a reassuring bump of her elbow. No blood here, either. "It's hard to imagine living underground, but I don't think I'll ever be particularly comfortable with the concept after candidacy…"

The Ghost Ship maintains harbor some ways away, outside of the scape where he could easily give away that his bonded- so untagged as a rider of Igen- for what he is. But the presence, well.. Now that the man has been more or less outted in this little group of theres and his meanings for being here no longer wrapped in secret, there is the whisper of the dead where malevolant fog rises in forewarning of the black tattered sail that lingers on the mindscape's horizon. Though this and only this is the warning that Zodaiyath lay near. "Ko'an, Zodaiyath's." Simple and to the point, though the possession seems stated a bit differently, he gives no other information as if it's implied that he would or should already be known. A smirk redraws the lines of his face when Divale answers him again, smug and deviant, "I can only imagine what a pleasant surprise that has been. But, aye, today seems a little underwhelming. Though it is early. There is yet still time for more.. entertaining things to arise." He toyingly searches for his words, teasing meanings from them. The reappearance of Eala sees him shifting casually to welcome her, a soft chuckle more of a physical rumble of his chest than a sound to be shared. "Or you have just trained them too well to be so obvious, love." Ko'an states as she bumps him, one of his hands lightly touching the small of her back as the other tries to dump Delta back into her care. "That was not quite living, nor anything like a Hold. And an event we won't be repeating." Accident or not, he won't so easily let her disappear, at least, again.

“Are you offering?” Divale is quick to quip to Ko’an, followed by another one of her smirks and she would have gone on with that thread but Eala’s return grabs her attention away again. There’s a low chuckle for the comment made, “Might’ve just saved the ‘fun’ for your eventual return? I mean, I could stop playing nice if it’s becoming a bore,” she muses and while there’s plenty of humour lacing her voice, there’s a note of seriousness there too. Looking up at the glow covered ceiling (if it could be called that) to the cavern, she’ll shrug her shoulders. “You get used to it… eventually. Disorienting for the first while but eventually you adapt,” she quietly admits but with a lack of fondness. She was from the Underground, but it was not her home, despite what some might think. There’s a curious glance given to Eala and Ko’an both, after the greenrider brings up Candidacy and while she doesn’t outrightly ask, the question is obviously there. Just what are they alluding to?

"We're guards, not assassins," Eala returns with a roll of her eyes, shifting her weight so that she leans against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. "If you are planning to draw blood," she tells Divale with a crooked smile, "I'd really prefer to be there." Her reasons are left as an enigma, as she reaches up to take her firelizard from Ko'an. A few low words are muttered to the creature before she takes flight again, seeking out a perch somwhere amidst those glowing lights up above. The petite green might have settled down under the bronzerider's care, but she clearly doesn't listen to him. "For a few days there, I thought I might have to get used to it." There's an almost imperceptible shudder as the greenrider recalls the unfortunate aftermath of that disaster. But as unpleasant as the memories may be, she still seems willing enough to share the tale with the brownrider. "When we were candidates, there was a cave-in. We were all trapped underground until a rescue could be organized. I left after the first night." And wandered the caverns all alone.

Ko'an winks at the brownrider for her quip, a promise of sorts for another time. "Aye, guards that I'd rather not take a round with in the Pit." He adds as she leans into his side, seeming to take no overt offense from the disregard of the green of whatever wishes he'd had. His composure had taken but a beat to return, though that composure only holds the whisper of the threat of him, from his preference of silver-clasped black attire to the imposing nature of him. The wicked look about him is softened by a degree or few, the steely edge that his annoyance had placed there softened to more a sea calmed of its white-capped and harsh nature. It's to Divale first that he answers, his brows risen and a gesture vaguely ushered to their surroundings. "Not something I'd wish to get used to. Can't even see the bloody sky in this place, and your concept of a body water is worse than the Weyr's." But then his gaze is cast down for a moment as the Wingsecond speaks, discontent speaking in the way the hand that had moved to more embrace her than welcome her by brief touch presses more firmly into her side. Concern in the movement, muted though in the face of so much else. "As impossible as always, love. Not everyone came back alive, or at all. And it all started as a simple outing to Crater lake, the candidates were quite stircrazy. Like a crew stuck out at sea too long. I suppose they got their adventure." The latter is to Divale, and the more gruesome fact of it is brushed off too easily, too well. Too practiced, perhaps, from times similar where details hold information never spoken. Though, nothing in his tales was quite as similar as that. "I quite thought we'd never see her again, but she has no problem proving me wrong. And of course then we come back to an infestation in the barracks."

Divale just smirks for Eala’s comment on guards but adds no remark of her own; what does garner her interest is the strange request to be present. There’s an answer that she almost voices, but just as the words reach her lips she decides against it and chuckles dryly instead. “Fair enough,” she mutters as she quietly pushes off from where she’d been leaning against the beam of the pergola all this time. There’s a roll of that shoulder as she takes a few steps to settle on one of the benches instead and lifting her gaze up to both of them. “I said you get used to it. Doesn’t mean you ever like it. And what’s so bad about the lake down here?” she smirks by the end of that statement, sarcasm back in play in her tone and well aware of why the lake would be nothing to admire. Tilting her head, she’ll listen as Eala and Ko’an both elaborate on the tale of their Candidacy and what befell them. Grimacing, she shakes her head, “Such is the cost for “adventure” sometimes. Unfortunate,” she mutters, though her gaze settles on Eala for a moment, “And it would seem luck favoured you, that you… both of you? Escaped.” She quirks a brow. “Infestation? Of what…?” She sounds almost incredulous to that additional tale from Ko’an. “Can’t say my Candidacy was nearly as, ah… eventful? Events leading up to it certainly were.” But that’s a completely different story.

Eala makes a non-committal noise in the back of her throat, vague as ever when it comes to the subject of her fellow guards and the sort of training they receive. Not that Parhelion's training is kept particularly secret from the bronzerider, as he has easy access to any and all of her files. "It's too small," she answers for Ko'an when it comes to the topic of the lake, "and it doesn't lead to the ocean. Not to mention you can't fit Zodaiyath in here, so it's all but useless to him." A glance is cast up toward the bronzerider, one brow arched in challenge as she dares him to try to correct her answer. The angle isn't the best, however, and it doesn't take long for her to drop her head back down and merely lean a little closer into his body. "A few were injured. Someone knocked out a candidate with a head injury, and I was so angry…" She couldn't take being in the same camp. And that unstoppable independent streak might've had something to do with her unexpected disappearance, as well. "I certainly got lucky. I should've have wandered away, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I did find my way back, though." And then he has to go and remind her of the infestation. "It was… I don't even remember, I just remember sleeping outside and wondering when we were going to catch a break. It was a stressful time, between that and being stalked by an annoying flirt." This last, at least, receives a smirk. "All the mess with the Hold, you mean?"

Ko'an is not a shy man. And his possessive qualities are not so subtle when Eala is around him, how he feels even more so when she puts her head back on his shoulder and he feels her weight shift against him a little more. The arm wrapped around her tightens faintly- more a quality to be felt than seen, and he tilts his chin down to kiss the golden crown of her head. When she answers for him, his amusement puffs warmly over her hair before pulls his head away. And while it wouldn't have mattered who their company is at any given time to him, it seems to have him in better spirits that it's Divale of all people. "All good reasons, love. I was certain someone just upended a bucket down here and forgot about it." The arrogant mockery continues, his attention returning to Divale with it, "There are hundreds of better places, lass. There were plenty who begged me passage to one or another. But-" Another breathy chuckle, a crooked grin, a devilishly sly look about him, "That part's in the past now, I suppose, though it's not the first time I've happened across you here." Can one not like something yet still miss it? Or has it all to do with that which she hunts- trinket or man alike? The man of the sea doesn't push her for information, it's not really the time for that. His jabs are simply that, cocky, self-assured, and lightly taunting still. "Ah-" He lifts a disagreeing finger, "Adventure is a thing worth the risk. Usually with some kind of reward at the end, and less nannies." Nannies, assistant weyrlingmasters. Same thing. The distaste is evident, almost lividly annoyed, for the end of it, his version of candidacy and- worse- weyrlinghood are highly unpleasant times save a singular steady facet of them both. "I don't bloody remember." Ko'an says of the infestation, though he isn't really so annoyed as what he states, "No, you shouldn't have." Has a tinge of teasing disapproval to it, "You robbed me of a dashing rescue, too." To the notation of a flirt, he cants his head as if considering, "I suppose he wasn't nearly as handsome as meself."

Even with the exchange between Eala and Ko’an that she’s quietly observing, Divale’s capable of following both their opinions on the underground lake; never mind that the greenrider’s is more speaking up for her partner than her views. Still, she does chuckle quietly and does not argue the finer points, “I suppose it’s not truly that much of a marvel,” she admits, only to fix Ko’an with a look. “That I do not doubt and you know well enough why I’m here most days,” And if Eala desires elaboration on that? She’ll have to ask him as the brownrider skips on through without so much as another word. Save, of course, to answer what she asked. “Yes, more or less.” Crypticness but then she has to play her part and remain somewhat faithful to the nickname given to her. Rising from her seat on the bench, she’ll pause to straighten some of her clothing and chuckle again, “For quite the unusual Candidacy, it’s a shame you don’t remember all the… highlights? Not that it matters, I suppose.” There’s a vague, wry smirk given to Eala for her comment on being stalked, then a darted look towards Ko’an before her gaze slides away. Not towards the grotto, but towards one of the many yawning entranceways leading from it. The one catching her interest? Leads to the Maw. “I’m going for a walk,” she announces and seemingly abruptly. It’s not entirely a lie, she will be walking but to do what or to meet whom is the true question. Information that she does not yield and merely dips her head respectfully to both, if not a touch mockingly. “Pleasure as always, our conversations. Another time, perhaps… If you’ll excuse me?” She’s going to go flirt with death, given that a misstep where she’s going will certainly ensure a rather terrible way to go. Stepping away, she’ll linger only long enough to scrape some of those glows from the very wall… just barely enough and, with a near-flippant wave, turn to disappear into the gloom.

There was a time when this underground lake would've struck Eala as a marvel, and even now she's not immune to its beauty — just in small doses. A sense of claustrophobia is beginning to set in, and the greenrider as just about reached the limits of her patience for time spent underground. While the brownrider's words cause a lift of her brows and a hint of curiosity to infect her gaze, she doesn't press the woman any further for answers. There's a brief nudge to Ko'an's ribcage, but it's unlikely she'll seek clarification there, either — she'd rather hear the story from the woman in question. Whether Divale knows it or not, they've got a date. "Honestly, at that point I was exhausted from lack of sleep and an injury that had been festering for days, it's remarkable I remember anything at all." Chances are she's still sporting that scar on her calf, and that most of Parhelion has seen it at this point. "Candidacy was… difficult." And weyrlinghood was still harder, but they all made it through somehow. Except for the ones that died. The greenrider arches a brow as Divale makes for the sudden exit, but she makes no move to stop the brownrider, who's clearly here on some sort of quest. As long as it doesn't come back to bite the weyr on the ass, however — or get one of her wingriders killed — she's not going to interfere. "Be careful," she warns, as though she guesses that what the other woman is about to do isn't strictly kosher. And that leaves her alone with the bronzerider, towards whom she tilts a thin smile. "I didn't need to be rescued." But there's still appreciation in that affection she turns in his direction, despite not needing his help. "He was alright, I suppose. Same as you." She tilts her head up to press a brief kiss to his jawline, before murmuring, "I don't know about you, but I'm all done with my business here. Are you coming home with me?"

If there's anything more than a knowing, shallow grin that leans more towards that part of him Divale is more familiar with than this one, it's a barely notable change in that gaze that's somehow both causally and intensely riveted on her until she's taken her leave. There's no more than that, and even when he gets a nudge to his ribcage, it simply draws his attention back to her with nothing overtly forthcoming in regards to information as if he knows what she'd prefer. That turn of head allows him to watch her the way he loves to, where there might as well be nothing else here but her with him. This was but an annoying evening licked in disrespect and poor form by a man the Darkness demands to be taught a lesson. In such, the pair stand in agreement- but not tonight. Ko'an has no further desire to be here, though it isn't claustrophobia that drives him back towards the surface. "Of course you didn't, darling." Not that that fact would ever stop him from trying. Now that their company has left the, his voice is lower and rougher, more private between them. His eyes lid slightly at her touch of affection to his scruff-lined jaw, and he leans forward to briefly touch his forehead to hers in the same motion he uncurls his arm from her back to seek her hand instead. Should she grant him it, he would intertwine their fingers before he straightens. And for now, with his own agenda met, there is no demand from his tether for anything besides what he wants most. "Aye. There is nowhere else I would rather be." He would join her in the trek back through the underground maze of twists and turns, tunnels and ends, to meet those Primordial and Purgatorial where they wait to take them home.

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