Daenerys, Naneska


Two Traders pass a little time in the Lost Oasis



It is the thirty-seventh day of Winter and 40 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.
It is late evening.


Lost Oasis, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 30 Jan 2018 06:00


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Lost Oasis

Blocked from view in the south by one of the largest sandstone formations jutting from the desert, this lovely oasis is truly a hidden jewel in the sand. Leagues away from any trace of civilization, it boasts a tranquil blue pool of fresh water and shallow stream fed by an unseen spring beyond a dark crevice in the bluff. Trees spring up against the rock, providing merciful shade and filling in the narrow recesses surrounding the water. The height of the outcropping funnels a near-constant light breeze through the place, cooling the air considerably in comparison to the desert beyond. However, for all its beauty, there is an unaccountable air of fear and uncertainty about this oasis. At night, the otherwise friendly wind can cross the space with a low, unnerving howl, and creatures passing in the shadows do so in nervous, unseen movements. This has, unfortunately, been a place of grisly discoveries for Igen Weyr - most likely due to its out-of-the-way nature. Sweep riders have observed no renegades, bandits, or criminals of any other stripe in the area thus far, adding to the mystery here.

A long trip's been called for this day; a day where Daenerys is free of any responsibility to Clan or family or - oh, anyone else. And because he's got that freedom, he's made a trip out to the Lost Oasis, drawn by its beauty and quietude, seeking the solitude of being soaked in his own thoughts. To make the trip at least quasi legitimate, he's carrying a small shipment of hides to stock his wagon with; hides he cannot himself produce, as they are of a certain kind of wherry bred special in Keroon. Having decided to camp out that night at the Oasis, he's settled down with his small tent and his staked runners, his stock well-guarded by his coterie of greens. For the time being, he's idly poking a stick into the fire, just watching the sparks fly.

Naneska really has no good reason to be here on this particular cold winter's night. But here she is, astride a weedy looking runner, who's hooves clatter as it clears the outcrop and heads towards the water. For the briefest moment she reins back the animal, as she clears the sandstone and catches the glow of fire. The clatter replaced by a protesting whuff, as she fumbles in the darkness before returning to her original forward motion a little more circumspectly. "Jist waterin' me beast." She calls out eventually, her tone equal parts wary and brightly helpless. Ain't nothing here but a girl and her runner.

Daenerys looks up at the sound of another runner entering the Oasis, and finds himself face to face — so to speak, as she's currently mounted while he's not — with a woman he's seen a time or two around the Caravan Grounds, but as yet had no opportunity to investigate more closely. Rising as Luna, a bright white mare in the dusk, offers an equine greeting to the other of her kind, Daenerys will casually sift fingers through his thick dark hair, and smile charmingly. "Well, now, I suppose there's no law agin it." He'll wave expansively toward the gleaming water, showing a willingness to accept the 'invasion' of his solitude.

Naneska is just going to stay riiiiight in her saddle as the runner she is riding nickers in response before seeking the water that turned it's head from weyr and caravan. She can run, but the runner runs quicker (probably why they're called 'runners') "Aye, this is one o' t' 'free' waterin' holes." Because there are other more secret springs bound by law and secrecy. Her own charm is overlaid by the slightest hint of something, even as she squints to see if he is friend or foe. This place is creepy at night after all. "Ye…" The frown deepens. "Ye're a trader yeah?" Not that she expects an honest answer if he were the type of dishonest man she suspects frequents this particular oasis.

"I'm a Trader. Adopted of the Zingari." Daenerys admits readily enough, spreading his arms to show he holds no weaponry. Indeed, those are in his tent, bar the two he always secrets about his person, for to be out at night is to require caution, even when accosted by pretty women on weedy runners. "And yourself?"

Naneska drops eye contact for a moment to check on her runner and his thirst. "Aye. Wit t' Reika." She answers shortly, a lightly amused snort for the picture of weaponlessness he presents. "First time I've come across jist one person camping here." Hence her cautious openess. "Most press on, t' Weyr isn't that much further." And to be honest, not many honest people have business in the desert at night.

Now she seems to be assured of his relative safety, Daenerys will drop his arms and grin back at her, for he knows it's somewhat amusing to pretend to complete weaponlessness. No fool stays here without something to protect oneself with. "Ah, the Reika… I am familiar with them." As to his solitary existence in the Oasis known for its attractiveness for miscreants, Daenerys will simply hitch his shoulders in a brief shrug. "Sometimes a man likes his own company. I seem to be plagued by sisters — none of which will follow me here." His grin is pure mischief, now. "There are times when the walls of the Weyr press in upon me." And it's not a pleasant feeling for him. "'M close enough to home to get there should I decide I've had enough solitude." Which may be soon — it's bloody cold, and that night outside the walls is starting to look less and less appealing. He is spoiled, this young trader.

"Oh? So ye came out for a bit o' a wank then?" NANESKA! The Reika woman appears innocently unrepentent, complete with a flutter of lashes. But even in the dark her hazel eyes glimmer with humor and/or mischief beyond the glow of his fires. "Jist let this…" There is a grimace at her mount, still noisily slurping and lipping the water. "… ungrateful beast drink his full." As displeased as she seems with the gelding, she's making no moves to change her seat. "Then we'll be on our way. T' Weyr tis jist yonder." This is all said with that same guileless bright tone, and completed with a smile that attempts to be pleasant, but looks slightly… knowing.

Oh, now that is amusing! Daenerys gives her a wicked grin. "Now why would I need to do that, darlin'?" He laughs, sliding a hand through his hair and glancing over to his runners, who are starting to shift at the howl of the winds. Perhaps it would be a good idea to move on before too long. They don't like it here, not really, though they seem patient enough — for now. A rest is a rest, after all. He catches that attempt at a pleasant, guileless smile, and snorts softly. It's not like he hasn't seen that particular brand of smile before, nor used it himself a time or two. "Suppose I should just press on. Sisters or no sisters, it's a little…" Enh, says the shrug that ripples his shoulders beneath his jacket. Perhaps something warm awaits him at home.

Naneska blinks a couple of times with confounded innocence. "When ye put t' evidence t'gether it is t' logical conclusion. Not enough privacy in t' weyr, little sisters." There is a shrug, which ends with her tugging on the reins experiementally. You done yet nag? The nag is not yet done, although the way it blows and lips at the water suggests it is just biding it's time. "Ye could always sneak in t' one o' t' ground weyrs. They've probably seen worse." Not that she knows or anything, but there is a flicker of a wink to accompany the flicker of firelight. "'N it's not so bad. No snow." She's rugged up appropriately in some hand-me-down wherhide, and aside from the pinking of her cheeks she appears unbothered by the nights chill.

Daenerys has his own place; it does, indeed, provide sufficient privacy to get his wank on should he need to 'get his wank on'. "What, and leave my very own yurt to roll around a stone coffin? I think not." After carefully putting the fire to rest, he begins tacking up his critturs, settling the loads out evenly between the pair before swinging himself back into Luna's saddle. "Well, I suppose we should be getting on." For the very idea of his own yurt — and its various entertainments — are suddenly an urgent call; besides, he has some decorative finalization he needs must get to. Like actual furniture. And that sort of thing.

"I think t' coffins are t' ones ye need wings t' git' t." Who needs vowels? Not Naneska apparently. "T' ground weyrs are jist wee… memorials." Or something, it's not like she spends much time thinking about the various ways death is contained. Her own runner, sensing the activity beyond his fascination with the water raises his head to dribble at the mare, making his knackers face so much prettier than it was before. "Ye'll be a while." She assesses the pack animals with an experienced eye. "I'll leave a drink for ye. At our fire." With that and a wink, her weedy gelding drops his languid pretense and starts to shuffle. "Clear trails!" She calls, before clattering off again, waiting until they have cleared the outcrop before giving that stupid looking runner his head.

Luna whickers back, briefly touching noses with Mr WeedyFace, before turning her head to lip at Daenerys' booted toe. Leave? Leave NOW? "All right little girl, we're leavin'." He smiles fondly at the mare, rubbing her velvet neck gently and sending the runner out after Naneska. A nice drink, some decorating, and, perhaps company of the feminine sort; perhaps that particularly vivacious little escort he'd been spending time with is free. The Weyr has acquired something worth heading back for tonight, after all.

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