Who

Kyriatis, Alyna, Ibrahim

What

Enjoying the peace of early morning in the Living Caverns, a trio get together to discuss the finer points of training firelizards and overbearing fathers.

When

It is sunrise of the thirteenth day of the eleventh month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Public Baths

OOC Date 02 May 2018 04:00

 

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Living Caverns

Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophoba. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.


It's morning; morning, and still too early for many of the wear's residents to be truly social. Thus, the low buzz of conversation about the caverns is lower than it might be a few hours from now, and many tables hold just one or two occupants dining in solitude rather than larger clusters. Kyriatis, being about as much a morning person as it is possible to even be, has no such compunctions: she's chosen a seat next to a teen a few turns older than her, a greenrider from Liger, and is chatting away quite merrily though her companion seems to be eyeing the exit with more-than-usual eagerness. "And then I thought… well, why not, right? It can't hurt."

Some people are morning people naturally, others come by it after Turns of a rigorous early morning regime that comes with being a rider. Alyna is one of these latter people. Completely running on auto-pilot, the greenrider is dragging her feet in from the bowl, dressed in the lightest layers of her leathers, she grumbles towards the klah while a rather disgruntled stocky bronze hatchling is craddled in the crook of her arm. He's making it quite clear to everyone around him that his poor little tummy is quite empty, his squawking reaching ear-splitting levels. This does not seem to phase Alyna in the slightest as she takes her time to make a mug of klah before grabbing the bowl of scrabs some enterprising drudge brought over for her when it was apparent she wasn't in any hurry. With a bob of thanks, she looks around for a table and spies a familiar gardener girl. Arriving at the table to hear Kyriatis' last, she smirks as she puts the mug down just long enough to pop a small piece of meat into Comet's mouth before she quips, "Those sound like famous last words if I ever heard 'em."

Kyriatis' companion looks up, sees Alyna, and takes her moment: she flees, mug in hand. "Gottagoseeyoubye," she calls over her shoulder, which is enough to interrupt the gardener's train of thought. She blinks— once, twice, and then a third time. Then, to Alyna: "Well, maybe. I'm not saying it ended up going well, but no one died, so that's a bonus? Did you end up with another?" Her head dips towards the greenrider's new pet. "I'm glad Ilasi is past that stage, anyway."

Oh look! A conveniently vacant chair. Alyna will take advantage of that, putting the bowl of scraps on the table in front of her before repositioning the little bronze as she begins to stuff his face in earnest. "No one dying is definitely a bonus," the greenrider agrees as she pauses long enough in her feeding to get a sip of her klah. "Yep! Went to a party at the beach not a seven ago hosted by Jaguar and came away with this little favor. Which is a strange coincidence because I got Jem on that same beach also in the midst of a party. And I wasn't even living in Southern at the time." She remarks before looking the girl over, "I hope you're training her up proper, they can be such nuissances if they aren't." She chides, taking a special interest since the girl's gold is her Jem's first.

"Better avoid that beach in future unless you want a whole fair of them," teases Kyriatis, with a grin. Her plate is empty and she pushes it away, but gathers up her mug to hold it between both hands, almost as if to warm her hands (though it's far too warm for that to be necessary). "Oh I am, I promise. She's growing up beautifully. She'll come when I call her, now. Much too young to take messages effectively for me, but we're working our way up to it. Not," she adds after a moment, "that I have all that many messages to take. Yet."

"Maybe I had." Alyna says with a soft smile as she looks down at the weathered bronze chewing sleepily on his last scrap of meet, eyes half lidded with a gory piece of sinew sticking out of his muzzle. She carefully tugs it out so he doesn't choke in his sleep and repositions him to her shoulder where he curls up under her sunkissed tresses. "That's really good to hear, keep it up. Really? A pretty girl like you doesn't have the lads dogging her footsteps? I don't believe it for a second." The woman teases gently as she brings her mug to her mouth again, taking the time to breath in the rich aroma before taking a long sip, the remnants of grogginess slipping away as she wakesn more fully.

Kyriatis makes a dismissive sound, and announces, "I don't think much of boys, really. Some of them are nice to look at, but the ones my age seem hopelessly juvenile. Fart jokes, really? We're fifteen." She and the greenrider are alone at one of the tables. It's first thing in the morning and the caverns are relatively quiet— these two, at least, seem happy enough to chat. "Dad says I shouldn't date until I'm, like, thirty, but he's just teasing me."

Oh those early mornings! They're always popping up when they're least wanted. But Ibrahim, night owl that he is, looks forward to them, for they mean his night shift in the Infirmary is over, and he can eat hus scant breakfast of klah and buttered, toasted bread and retire to his tent to sleep before it's all to do again. He makes note of all the folk currently here, falling in particular on the two chatting young women. With a grin, he recognizes them both for various reasons, and offers a gentle greeting for them both when he's near enough with his food to be heard.

Snorting hot klah through one's nose is highly unpleasant, so it's a good thing Alyna narrowly misses doing just that as she sputters behind her hand at the mention of juvenile boys and their charms. "Well just give it time. Some of them actually grow out of it…eventually." she snickers softly as she puts the mug down in front of her. "And dads always say that, but it's not like he has a say in the matter once you're old enough." she adds with a wink. Turning her head at the greeting, Alyna's smile brightens at the wildling man, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "Good morning Ibrahim, care to join us? We were just discussing the finer points of the charms of juvenile boys."

"Were you obsessed with fart jokes when you were fifteen?" asks Kyriatis by way of greeting towards Ibrahim. "Please tell me you weren't. Good morning!" She pauses in her chatter in order to sip at her own klah, and then adds, "Anyway, I guess I'll date when I meet someone I actually want to date. I'm in no rush."

"Me?" Ibrahim pauses, eyein Kyriatis with blank surprise. "Probably, but I was a kid. Kids find the most disgusting things funny." He'll shrug, then, taking a sip of his klah, nodding agreement with Alyna. "Fifteen year old boys are the worst, aren't they?" Poor Kyriartis, to have such an overbearing father. "Ha I don't think he's joking. Fathers refuse to believe their little girls don't stay that way."

Alyna laughs audibly as Kyriatis turns on Ibrahim with her question and is just as equally amused at his answer. Turning back to the girl though, she offers an encouraging smile at her last. "That's usually the best way to let things happen." she agrees. "No use rushing, you're only a kid once." she muses with a sigh, remembering her own youth briefly before tilting her head towards the girl. "It's true. Fathers like to live in denial." turning her gaze then to Ibrahim, she rest her chin in her hand, elbow propped up on the table. "You're not talking from experience, are you?" she wonders, raising her brow speculatively.

No doubt Kyriatis would like to insist, at this point, that, actually, fifteen is not a kid at all… but she does not. Perhaps she's accepted that it's an argument she will lose (and then lose again). Still, the thought is pretty clear in her expression, and the flash of disapproval aimed at both her companions that hovers there for a moment. She ducks her attention back towards her mug, and adds, only after she's swallowed, "I'm not sure why dad thinks it perfectly acceptable for me to make life-changing decisions to Stand and maybe Impress and go on to fight thread, but not, you know, go on a date." But her gaze slides back to Ibrahim, too, waiting for his answer to Alyna's question.

Perhaps it's because most folk consider fifteen too young to do anything remotely approaching making their own life choices; it's hard for adults to consider that age does not always infer maturity. Ibrahim is not completely oblivious to Kyriatis' silent outrage, and offers her a slanted, sympathetic little grin. He, too, has recently come up against the idea that others know what he needs and wants better than he does. "True that. If you can handle a dragon — a much larger responsibility — then you can certainly handle dating."

Alyna watches said flash of disapproval with an amused smirk and a twinkle in her eyes, "That does sound rather counter intuitive. But I guess there are certain things a father would rather never have to think about." Raising her mug back to her lips, she pauses as a thought comes to her, "And hey, if you do stand and impress, well then he will definitely not be able to say boo about you dating." Always looking on the bright side, that's Alyna.

"Yes, well," says Kyriatis, something in her expression now suggesting rather deeper reservations— though what, precisely, she's thinking about is less clear. "We'll see. If you'll both excuse me? I should get to work."

Ibrahim mms softly, managing to finish off his food in a few neat bites. "And I am off to spend my morning nowhere near the Infirmary." All those lovely little germ factories — er, kids — and their whines and sniffles are driving him utterly mad — MAD. He salutes the pair and makes himself scarce.

And Alyna is left to her own devices, offering a wave to her departing companions, finding herself with some rare peace and quiet. Of which she wil be fully taking advantage of until her daily duties force her into moving.

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