It's ridiculously hot. And maybe it's just in her head, but all the candles and lamps just seem to be adding to the ridiculous heat indoors, so here's Loe, doing the watchrider thing. The breeze up here is nice, making it feel a little less like deathheatkillmenow, and the view is okay now that the sun is juuuuuust slipping down beneath the horizon. Candlelit caves speckle the bowl walls, less striking than by glowlight but more magical, if you will. She sits safely back from the curving edge of the Stones, Valmoth stretched out behind her, his jewel-glowing eyes half-lidded while she picks at a plate of fruit and what-not. Bonus, she throws the pits of cherries off the cliff, bombs away.

Do wildlings even use lights? Yes, okay, they make good use of flames, but chances are Rhuysarr is far more accustomed to dim (or nonexistant) light than most around the weyr. That's probably why he's climbing those stone steps sans candle, only slightly winded by the time he emerges at the top of the stairs — although the heat still hits him. Wiping at his brow, he pauses to survey the wavering glow of candlelight where it spreads across the bowl. The dragon is noted first, before his dark eyes fall to the woman beside the blue, who's certainly familiar enough given their fairly recent encounter. He watches for a moment (because she doesn't already think he's a creepy stalker) before those quiet steps of his draw closer, and he asks mildly, "Do you just enjoy destruction?"

The only reason that Loe doesn't get totally surprised by this creepy stalker is that Valmoth is there. It really makes it hard to startle a person when they've got a whole extra set of eyes, even if those eyes are drowsing lazily. His whirl a little quicker, betraying his awareness of Rhuysarr the very moment that he crests the stairs. Loe's composure holds quite well; she keeps her eyes trained in the direction they were, and she only betrays her awareness-by-proxy with one missed chew of her cheekfull of food. She spits out a seed, entirely undaintily, and turns her head so the creeper is more in her direct line of sight. "You had better hope not," with a look that skates beyond him to SUPERDEATHDROP of the stairs just behind him. "What are you doing here?" Accusing and curious.

Rhuysarr appears unscathed by the unspoken threat of a dramatic fall to his death, as he continues to move closer until he's within reach of Loe. If she wants to grab him and toss him off the edge, she can. "Don't destroy me," he warns, the warmth of an unvoiced laugh under those words. "Clementine said I could stay." A permission which apparently extends to EVERYTHING. He's just going to carefully avoid the fact that Bailey had a starkly different opinion. Does Loe need to know that? Nope. The accusation is brushed off with a glance that slides first to Valmoth, and then on to the view spread out before them. There's a subtle nod of his head, some approval of whatever he sees in the subtle glow of candlelight. "Candidate," he answers, reaching up to touch the knot where it rests on his shoulder.

Loe? Destroy him? No. She's sitting and eating her fruit and being a good little watchrider. Valmoth, though? His talon twitches out a tuneless taptaptap against the stone underfoot, and he shifts to keep an eye on this so-called Candidate (and how easy it would be to just, whoopsie, shoulder him right off the edge). "Are you?" she asks, a laugh of her own in there - a scoffing, surprised laugh around that question. It's hard to tell if she's surprised in a good way or surprised in a bad one. "You're not going to comb your hair with a fork or eat with your fingers, I hope?"

Look, just because Loe doesn't get her hands dirty, doesn't mean it's not her fault if he falls to his death up here. Rhuysarr is aware of that taptaptap, but he makes no move to look in the blue's direction again. "I am." There's a note of a different sort of surprise in that agreement, as though he's still not entirely sure how he came to be here, wearing this knot once again. A glance slides toward her, studying the petite bluerider with curiosity as he tries to gather an understanding of her. He's not particularly subtle in his staring, either. "With a fork?" Brow furrows, before enlightenment hits. "Keelie?"

She nods and sighs, a sigh of fondness and long-suffering when she repeats, "Keelie." Whatever Loe thinks of Rhuysarr's attempts to get a read on her is, appropriately enough, impossible to read, since she winds up pushing to her feet then, dusting off her palms and then picking up the plate of fruit remnants and holding it out with both hands. "Well, Candidate Rhuysarr," with such loftiness in that address that it can do nothing except make it seem utterly ridiculous, "I charge you with a task of the utmost importance. You must take this plate back to the kitchens, and you must tell them that I would like them to send up some punch and pastries around midnight. And I do not want salad. If they send salad, I'm going to hold you personally accountable for the error."

"I know Keelie." This clarification is uttered after a moment, as though she might not have understood as much from his ability to identify the other wildling. He knows her. Knew her. Rhuysarr seems content to silently muse alongside another woman who wants nothing to do with his presence. His attempt to understand her, to ferret out her motivations is abandoned when it becomes clear that he'll have no success. Brows lift at her 'request', his dark gaze fixed on that plate in her hands for a long, lingering moment. It seems he might just walk away, or perhaps laugh in her face (perhaps both), but after his contemplative silence he finally reaches out to take it. "Very well," he tells her, his tone agreeable. "Punch and pastries at midnight. I'll see to it." That seems like his cue to exit, and the wildling seems to gather himself up to retreat, but not without the parting comment of, "I'm sure I'll see you soon." Probably sooner rather than later, because whatever she receives at midnight, it won't be punch and pastries.