Xanthee, Amania, Carey


Xanthee and Amania find themselves blown into The Pit during a sandstorm. Conversation ensues, with Carey joining in just before duties call.


It is late afternoon of the nineteenth day of the ninth month of the eleventh turn of the 12th pass


The Pit; Bazaar Sidestreet, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 17 Aug 2017 06:00


xanthee_default.jpg amania_default.jpg carey_default.jpg

"Everything's just a wish until you decide to do something about it."


The Pit

One does not enter The Pit so much as descend into it. Why else the name? The Steen ancestors paid for their square footage with sweat, excavating the area and building curved walls up around it. Wide, smooth steps descend into a large entry area that overlooks the pit and galleries. Floors, ceilings and walls have been whitewashed with limestone paste, increasing the amount of light reflected back from the numerous glow baskets hung on the walls. A rounded doorway to the right leads one into the business' "office", which is furnished in spartan style: cushions for kneeling or sitting upon, a desk that's low to the ground constructed of the same whitewashed stone as the rest of the building, and niches carved out of the walls themselves for decorative pieces. Here is a small sculpture of men wrestling, there is a wooden carving of a champion with a foot upon his vanquished foe.

Continuing on through the lobby brings one to another set of six stairs that descend into the galleries surrounding the sand-filled pits. A low wall separates audience from combatants, but even at its highest point, those in the galleries are never more than twenty feet away from the action. The sand is raked daily, with fresh sand added whenever the blood to soil ratio becomes too great.

The wind is howling outside as the sandstorm rages out in the bazaar streets. A sand covered person darts inside, shaking her head and dislodging the sand from her wavy ebony tresses, combing her finger through them and really giving them a shake to loosen the grit from the her follicles. Xanthee then scrubs at her face, sputtering and spitting out sand that made it into her mouth, all the while grimacing most unattractively. the picture of poise and grace she is not. Hands move down to shake sand out of her tunic and skirt with added frustration and it clings to the fabric of her garments.

Amania made sure she was dressed for the incoming storm today, but that doesn't mean it blows her around any less. She keeps managing to get caught out in the dusters while trying to get back through the Bazaar and finds herself in the most interesting places when she does. She knows there's someone ahead of her but isn't precisely aware that they've gone into the same entrance she eventually heads for, slipping inside after opening the door as minimally as possible. Her robe sheds sand once she's past the threshold, and she shakes it out as best she can before starting to unwrap the scarf from her face and head. Only once it's gone does she notice the other girl and blinks a bit in mild surprise. "Caught us both, I suppose," she notes, amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Weren't you at the party last sevenday?" There's definitely something familiar about the other girl. She glances around…then does it again, more slowly. This is not somewhere she's been before. And it's almost eerily quiet beyond the roaring of the winds without.

Xanthee jumps up as someone talks right next to her, she had been so engrossed in wiping down her own clothes she hadn't heard someone else follow her in. giving a little yelp, she jumps back but there are steps right by the entrance, and her feet fall farther than she expected. Her arms windmill wildly and after a few harrowing moments where it is unsure if she will stand or fall, the momentum of her flailing limbs helps her to regain her balance, "Woah!" she exclaims as a hand clutches at her chest, "I was sure I was going down. The party! Right! Wasn't it your party? Things got a little hazy after my second glass of whisky." she giggles a little bit too loudly, the adrenaline still obviously coursing through her.

When the other girl startles and seems about to take a spill, Amania's eyes widen anxiously and she reaches out, trying to get purchase on a flailing hand without success. Thankfully, the girl rights herself. Embarrassing dogpile avoided! "Yes, it was mine. Though I didn't know it right away," she admits, a hint of dusty rose coming to her cheeks with the memory. "I'm Amania. And yeah, I've learned whiskey will do that to you." Her nose wrinkles a bit at that, chagrined. She's still working her way through the bottle gifted to her when she'd arrived…and she managed to acquire several more at said party.

Xanthee grins broadly, "You didn't even know it was for you? That's wild!" she exclaims briefly, "The Zingari family seem so tight knit and supportive, I could see why you would want to join them." she remarks almost wistfully. Then she lowers her tone and waggles her eyebrows suggestively, "I mean, the Zingari boys alone are reason enough surely." she says with a slight purr to her voice. "They were in fine form at your party too, some more than others." she says with a sigh and then looks a little crestfallen, "Of course, if I have to compete with Zingari girls, I got no chance. Did you see some of the positions they managed to get themselves into?" Xan shakes her head sadly.

Amania gives a quick grin back, shaking her head. "They are…and I guess that is part of the reason I wanted to go to them. But I wasn't expecting them to actually make me one of them." Her cheeks flush further at that, and she clears her throat a bit before Xanthee's comment about the boys draws slightly startled look, dark brows arching high. "Well…yes, I suppose…" She's been noticing, certainly, but given she doesn't really know what to do about it, she hasn't dwelt on the matter. Much. The other girl's last turns Amania's expression to one of puzzlement. "Why do you have to compete?" Truly, this is beyond her. Perhaps being clueless about men has its advantages; she's rather guileless about the whole thing. "And what does the bending have to do with anything?"

Xanthee gives Amania a puzzled look, "Well, for one, they seem to all be very talented in various things, where as the only talent I've discovered is for serving tea. Next to one of them, I am like a wherry next to a dragon. And the bending helps, you trust me," says the not-yet 16 Turn-old girl with conviction. Just then she realizes she's not even quite sure where she is exactly and looks around curiously. "What is this place anyway?" she asks Amania, "I don't think I've ever been here before. I was aiming for the Tea Room, but I got all turned around." she explains.

"Well no one's born with those talents. They take work, and the Zingari start young. But just because they can do all those things doesn't make them better or worse in the heart than you or me, I expect." Which Amania is learning counts for more than anything she can do with her hands. It's a somewhat befuddling thing, but she's gradually learning the truth of it. "But why does the bending help?" Seriously, she does not know why it ought to matter! As for where they are, Amania blinks and peers around again. Taking a few steps forward, she scans the seats, letting the tiers lead her gaze downward to a round, sandy expanse in the middle of the entire sprawling area. "I guess…this must be The Pit," she ventures, remembering the descriptions she's heard. "The Steen's place where people fight for sport. I haven't been here before, either." But all she's heard matches up.

Xanthee looks around and takes a few steps forward as well. "Ahhh yes, I've heard of this place. Apparently I was too young to work here, so Beris got promoted to work here and I got the job in the Tea Room." she looks around almost reverently. "You'd think there would be someone here at least watching the place. Although I guess there's really nothing to take or anything. And as for the bending, I mean, you do know what boys and girls get up to together right?" she asks conspiratorily, because she certainly knows what they get up to, and Amania looks at least a little older than her if she's any judge of ages.

Perhaps there is someone around to watch, just hanging about where there's something worth watching. And two teenage girls standing stranded in the lobby probably doesn't constitute anything worthwhile. The other girl mentions a name that tickles the back of her mind somehow, as though she's heard it before…but then it's back to the bending, and Amania's brows hike swiftly. "Of course I do!" she replies, blushing furiously as she drops her voice to a not-so-quiet whisper. "But who says it needs to get complicated with anything like what Reveka can do?" Honestly, that just seems like too much work!

Xanthee giggles at the other girl's blush and just shakes her head. "Well from what I've heard, if someone is particularly flexible, the more creative positions can be achieved." she nods knowingly and then rocks back on her heels. "So are you from around here originally?" She asks conversationally as she takes another look around the room.

Still blushing, Amania shakes her head. "Seems rather beside the point to me," she opines, her bemused expression tweaking her nose slightly sideways as she gives a shake of her head. She steps forward a bit further, taking in the tiered and well-lit galleries in a bit more detail before looking to the girl again, lips bitten together momentarily. Again she shakes her head. "I came here from Kurkar," she replies, assuming that the other will know what she means by giving the 'proper' name for the place. "You still haven't told me your name," she points out, amusement hinted in her tone. "Are you a trader, too?"

"Silly me. I'm sorry, The name's Xanthee, Igen Weyrbred through and through. My mom was a brownrider." she says by way of explanation. At the mention of Kurkar, she nods slightly, having heard the gossip about the place but she doesn't really react to it. "That's interesting, never met anyone from there before." she adds truthfully. Her eyes scan the other girl thoughtfully, "So what do you do for the Zingari anyway?" she asks conversationally.

Minimal reaction is the best reaction, as far as Amania is concerned when it comes to her birthplace. "Pleased to meet you, Xanthee," she says with a little inclination of her head. "Guess you've met a real live Undergrounder now." There's a healthy amount of rue to that remark, though a smirk to go with it. "I'm a guard. Handy with a crossbow," she replies. "I don't really know much else, like the other Zingari, but I'm excused since I wasn't raised to it like them. Still…" She gives a little shrug. "I wouldn't mind finding something more I can do with them. Willimina thinks I could be a dancer, but I'd never even tried it before Bonifas decided I needed to learn a little." At least she managed to leave his feet intact.

Xanthee blushes a bright red at the name of that certain Zingari boy, reaching from her chin all the way up to the roots of her hair. She averts her eyes a little bit and digs the toe of her shoe into the floor. "I saw you dancing with Bonifas, he seems like he would be a good dancer." she says wistfully before shaking herself out of it. "Crossbow you say? That's some talent to have though. Wish I had a talent for something sometimes. I guess being raised in the Lower Caverns, we were provided for, didn't need to find anything to make a living really. I only really work at the Tea Room to get away from the drudgery I was doing at the Weyr. Being a guard sounds so exciting and dangerous."

Amania notes that blush and smirks. "He's patient, for certain," she says, and nods to Xanthee's echo about the crossbow. Then Xanthee's wistfulness over wanting a talent comes up a second time, and Amania eyes the other girl curiously. "It's not so exciting at the moment, just a lot of pulling pickpockets around by their ears lately," she notes with a bit of a drawl, and folds her arms. "Anyway. If you want a talent, why not quit wishing and work to get good at whatever it is you want to be talented at? When I decided I wanted to be good at the crossbow…I just went and got to it." Another shrug. "Everything's just a wish until you decide to do something about it."

Xanthee rolls her eyes so hard they threaten to pop out of their sockets, "So many people keep telling me that, but I don;'t have anything that draws me. Honestly, just being a weyrbrat, I figured I'd Impress by now. It seems like that was what I was born for. Of course though, the dragons chose and I've already been left standing once. Hey even the Zingari Fortune Teller I went to see told me that I need to stop thinking about boys cause my life is about to change in a dramatic way, but how the heck is that helpful? If I could just find something that speaks to me." It's obvious this has been on Xanthee's mind for some time now. Shaking her head, she just huffs, "Sorry, just been doing a lot of soul searching lately and coming up mostly empty."

Amania isn't fazed by that eyeroll; in fact, she has to resist the temptation to give a demonstration of that particular talent herself out of a bit of competitiveness. She doesn't, though, instead listening to Xanthee's bit of venting all the way through. "Fortune teller… You mean Willimina?" Hmmm. Now she might have to go see what that's all about out of curiosity. But there's one particular point that catches her attention. "I didn't know the dragons might leave some people behind." Somehow she'd thought they'd only take as many Candidates as there were eggs. Another tick goes in her mental tally box of Things Learned about Weyr Life. "Can you try again? Do you want to be a dragonrider?" From the sound if it, the other girl assumed it would be a given.

"They give the eggs as wide a choice of candidates as they can get." Xanthee explains, "It's said it's better for them to have the choice. And I think I will try again, if asked, but then almost all weyrbrats are asked to stand multiple times until either they get too old or Impress." At the question about wanting to be a dragonrider, she ponders for a long moment before continuing. "I do. I really think I do. It's in my blood. Riders as far back as I know, at least on my mom's side. No idea who dad was, but then mom never had a reputation towards settling down with just one person from what I heard."

Oh, The Pit: all excitement, and grit. Carey wanders right on in, boots thunking casually against the floor. He'll glance around, note some things, and ultimately decide on settling down in a comfortable sprawl near the two chattering girls with something akin to grave curiosity. Oh, hey, they're discussing Weyr Life, and all its dirty. He might have to join in, when the woman currently bending his ear in shrill tones needs to come up for air.

Absorbing these new facts with interest, Amania nods along a bit. "Well, if that's what you want, why not start working on some of the things dragonriders need to be good at?" she suggests, unfolding her arms again. "If they need to be strong, work on getting strong. If they need to know how to work with leather, start learning that. Whatever else they need to be and do." At this point, Xanthee likely has a better handle on what exactly it all entails than Amania does, though the Zingari girl is starting to piece together what makes sense on that count. "Best to be prepared, right?" The roar of the sandstorm abruptly heightens, drawing her attention toward the entrance to find a man and woman blowing in. Her gaze is automatically drawn to the man with some curiosity (it's his hair; she's seen some intriguing hair lately) before flickering back to the girl before her.

"That's it!" Xanthee exclaims and looks like she is about to tackle Amania but manages to contain it. "I need to start training like a dragonrider! I could definitely be stronger and leatherworking makes sense for sure. Oh Amania, I could kiss you." And she looks like she might for a moment but she holds back. "This is perfect!" The man's entrance seems to have been lost in her excitement as she starts to mentally compose a list of things that could help her in her newly found goal.

Interesting hair? WHERE. The woman's still talking, and Carey is getting really, really antsy. Maybe there's — ah, look, a big brawny fighter, one of those kinds of dudes that gets obnoxious women's attention fairly quickly. As she turns to him, Carey makes like a ghost and practically teleports away before she notices he's gone. He'll land himself closer to Xanthee and Amania and hope for the best. "Did I hear there's a fellow Weyrbrat here?" Because if there is, he'll be thrilled, or at least willing to join the conversation. Anything to stay away from Clingy McClingerson.

Amania, wary of any sudden attempts that mght be made upon her person, friendly or otherwise, tenses slightly when she gets the impression that Xanthee might be fixing to tackle her. Fortunately, that impulse appears to get restrained, as does the kissing the other girl speaks of. Amania can't help a somewhat abashed laugh. "Ah…glad I could help," she says, though it sounds a bit like a question. Is that all it took, really? Suddenly the man that had come in is nearby, and she finds herself blinking up at him. Maybe his eyes are a bit more interesting than his hair; she can actually see them at this proximity. "Um, that would be Xanthee," she tells him. "I'm from the Zingari, myself."

Xanthee hears a voice and turns in the direction of the guy with the great hair, a smile of faint recognition dances on her lips. "I know you." she states matter-of-factly, as she subtly turns on the charm with a wider smile a little nibble of her bottom lip and a very soft flutter of her long black lashes. "You helped me out when I was having a bit of hysterics in the laundry room." she exclaims and then smiles at Amania's introduction of her and she bows her head slightly in greeting, "And this is Amania." she remarks, returning the favor. She looks back at the guard and smiles a bit, "You don't even know, I've been wracking my brain on this for months, I can't believe I never came to that conclusion before."

"Oh, yeah. You were that kid who couldn't stop crying." Carey's such a gentleman, isn't he. As Xanthee begins fluttering her eyelashes, his brows arch briefly, amusement contained by dint of sheer will. She's a cute kid, but still: a kid. "See you're doing much better, now. Glad to see that." He offers Amania a nod. "Well met, and all that polite noise." His grin's impish as he resettles himself down near the pair before giving Xanthee another look. "You haven't figured out what to do with yourself yet? Huh, I thought you had."

Uh oh. Amania may not know Xanthee all that well, but she does know that this new fellow is kind of a jerk in her eyes at the moment for outing the crying thing, despite what he says afterward. What if Xanthee doesn't want the world to know about it? Her arms slip back into a folded rest upon her chest, her lips settling into a straight line, though she does give him a little nod when Xanthee introduces her. It's only that that stops her from making an arch remark. His grin draws a smirk from her, at least. "Maybe she has," she points out. "You have a name yourself, stranger?"

Xanthee grins a bit in Carey's direction, nothing overt, she's practicing the art of subtlety, not that it's working or anything. "Well I had finally decided I wanted to be a rider, but then two clutches hatch at the same time, and I was left standing so that kinda shook my faith a little bit actually. So I lived at the bottom of a wineskin for about a week, and then decided I needed something to do. So I got a job as at The Tea Room. That's been fun, meeting new and interesting people, like Amania here," and Xanthee turns her attention to the guard and does a double take when she see that the older teen has taken a very defensive pose and she just looks at her quizzically for a moment before going on, "who has, through pure luck, suggested the first thing in months that makes sense for me to do with my time now. I am indebted to her."

Not even a little bit; Carey's a funny, funny boy that way. Flirting tends to just mean nothing to him under most circumstances. "Yeah, heard about that. That kind of thing's never fun." Says he who's Stood a few clutches and failed. "Always the questions from the old aunties, know what I'm saying?" He shifts some of those heavy cables of hair over his shoulder and sprawls back comfortably, unperturbed by Amania's posture. Really? Is she going to fight him? That ought to be amusing. "The Tea Room? Ha. I could see that. You got the right look, kid." Girly. Sweet. All that nice stuff most people would mention aloud, but Carey never does. But Amania wants a name. Crap. "It's Daenerys, but most call me Carey. Tanner Journeyman." He gives Amania his bestest bland stare.

It might be amusing, but Amania is a guard for a reason. There's absolutely no fighting on her mind, however; she's clued in now to the fact that Xanthee didn't take offense and therefore relaxes, her arms dropping. "Wouldn't say it was lucky," she says to Xanthee, full lips tilting in a small smile that's still a little uncertain that she did anything that noteworthy. "Just practical, that's all. You have a goal, you do what you have to do to reach it." Klah-dark eyes shift to the man again. "Well met, Carey," she says, inclining her head fully this time as she just lets what irked her go. If Xanthee isn't fazed, Amania doesn't need to keep bristling.

Xanthee smiles brightly when Carey mentions something about her looks, but then bristles slightly at being called a kid. The moment passes quickly enough though and she smiles back at the older girl, "But so many people have said so many things, given so much advice and nothing felt right until you said what you did. I mean it just makes sense." she rattles on before turning back to Carey, "So what brings a Tanner Journeyman to the Pit in this awful weather?" she asks casually.

Carey will resist the urge to pat her on the head while he's at it; she's definitely cute, though, like an angry kitten confronting a lion. He'll smily offer her his gentlest smile and ignore her bristling. "Pff. Let me see — I can sit in my room and look at the same walls until I go crazy, or I can come here and watch some guy fight each other for money. Thing the second sounds slightly more interesting, don'tcha think?" He considers a long, long moment, as if he's trying to force something to recall something. Like where his little rapscallions were last seen. Giving that up as useless woolgathering, he returns to the conversation at hand. "You're going to train as a dragonrider — without the dragon. Certainly a creative use of your talents." He's sure she has them, even if he has yet to see the evidence of any such thing.

At the mention of the Pit soon being put to its intended use, Amania glances down toward the arena itself as though she might spy a fighter preparing. In truth, she doesn't want to be around for it. She just shrugs, letting Xanthee field the answer to Carey's question if she wishes, rhetorical though it may be. "Well, I'm glad to have said something useful to you," she tells the other girl. And then, speaking of rapscallions, there's a sudden flurry of inquisitive crooning from somewhere in the folds of her robe, and two tiny heads, blue and brown, emerge near her shoulder to blink up at her. Then there's creeling, and most everyone knows what that means. "Oh! Time to go feed the faces, I guess," Amania says with a fond grin, and pulls her headscarf free to start winding it about her head again. "Good evening to you both." And with that, she's slipping back out into the storm to fight the wind back to her yurt.

"That makes sense." Xanthee says thoughtfully and as he basically reiterates what she said, she nods fervently, "Yes, that's exactly what I am going to do. If I do impress, I want to be the best rider I can." As Amania makes her exit, Xanthee sighs heavily, "Yeah, I should get going to, have a late shift." She turns what she hopes is her most grownup, flirty half-smile in Carey's direction, yes she is relentless, "I'm sure I'll catch you around, I might come talk to you when I start looking at learning leatherworking." cause he's a Tanner, see the connection there? Or is it just a handy excuse? Who knows with Xan, as the ebon-haired, emerald eyed girl flounces out of the Pit.

Carey's chuckling at Xanthee's flirtatiousness. Such a sweet kid. "Ah, well, we must each to our crafts, eh?" Right how, it' fights for him, since he's now off duty. He threat to come see him about leather working is met with a nod of approval — whatever her intentions, the little minx is going to get worked hard, and not in the way she's thinking, either. Hope she likes bloody skins. As the girls make their exit, he gets comfortable to await the goombahs of choice.

Add a New Comment