Esanth, T'ral, Kyara, Liareth


Kyara and Liareth visit Southern. While Esanth shows Liareth around, T'ral gives Kyara the runaround.


It is evening of the first day of the tenth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Southern Weyr

OOC Date


esanth_default.jpg t-ral_default.jpg kyara_default.jpg liareth_default.jpg


Archive Library

Where once books reigned supreme, this open space is now dominated by a stalwart skybroom reaching to the sky through a broken ceiling. What was once evidence of collapse is now ornately carved with engraved ivy, matched by a clever contraption of stone that allows the gap to be closed in inclement weather. A small garden occupies the space around the tree-trunk, all manicured bushes and flowering shrubbery enclosed by a grated gutter. The walls are lined with bookcases, while a spiral staircase leans on the western wall to wind upwards to the second level. Tucked in the corners and scattered in the main areas are tables and chairs, cafe-style, and comfortably worn overstuffed armchairs. It is the perfect place for individuals to gather, to enjoy the offerings of the food-cart or a spirited conversation.

It is the sixty-first day of Spring and 86 degrees. It is a clear night.

A research paper as punishment? Does Ja'kai not REMEMBER T'ral as a weyrling? T'ral, who wrote a CONTRACT as a love letter? In fairness, T'ral can't remember himself, so why should Ja'kai?

Grounded for a seven, by sunset of Day 1, T'ral's got a rough draft (complete with outlines and notecards). By the end of Grounding Day 2, he's got a draft ready for review. No one's going to review it, so T'ral is sitting. Staring. He rereads the paper. For the dozenth time. It's thorough. But dry. ARID. And not enough pictures. The likes of Ty'ai would use it to prop up a rickety table. And so the bluerider sits and thinks. And thinks some more. Instead of comparing and contrasting the Weyr's policies with those of other Weyrs and other times it needs … pictures. Accessibility. If this paper is going to be anything more than a salve to Ja'kai's endlessly twisted knickers it needs LIFE.

Like… a catchy title. Tapping a finger to his lips, T'ral stares off at the skybroom growing in the Archives a smile playing across his face. Night sees the Archives winding down, glows dimmed, focused in pools on long tables between the stacks. T'ral sits at one of these tables surrounded by stacks of books, hides, pages of notes, four broken stylii, three firelizards, two turtle doves and a parchment filling by degrees.

Seriously. A catchy title.


by T'ral, blue Esanth's

Southern Weyr

1st Turn, 12th Pass

Title accomplished, the bluerider finishes with a flourish and sits back, admiring his handiwork. This was going to be great.

It's been a while since Kyara has visited Southern - a couple of months. Busyness has kept her from visiting more frequently, though Zannen has insisted he doesn't mind. This evening, the Igen greenrider is returning from the Seacraft complex after a visit with her brother, boots thumping quietly as she strides across the Bowl on her way back to her lifemate. Some strange things have happened here as of late, mostly involving the Weyrleadership, and while she does mull over that, her mind does invariably turn to T'ral, wondering how he's doing. She'd heard when he'd returned to duty, but duty itself is what always managed to prevent her from trying to visit him after that. Liareth would always reach out to see if she could get in touch with Esanth, but again, being busy would prevent contact. Still, as ever, the pretty green brushes the humid steam of her mindscape in greeting across the minds of Southern's dragons, hoping to catch a reply from the blue or any others she knows. And still Kyara wanders, thoughtful in the deepening evening.

T'ral reaches over to his notes and snags a tome, flip, flip, flipping to the page that he… Yes. There. He closes the book on his finger and leans over to grab a silver stick, he blinks. It's not there. It was just…! A frustrated grunt and he's lifting page edges, patting down the whole work surface when… Ah. Right. Sheepish, the expression as he lifts a hand to his brow to collect the silverstick tucked behind his ear. Tome opened, a finger scans down the page, eyes tracking along, T'ral mumbles as he reads, other hand - silverstick hand - reaching out to blindly fumble for a fresh parchment. He finishes reading. Ponders. Nods. And then slews over to the fresh pages and starts scribbling furiously. He pauses to rub at his nose and bends back to the work.

Esanth is flying, hard and fast over the lush green canopy, revelling in the wind over his wings. He pulls up sharply at the brush of the watchdragon's announcement of Liareth's arrival and beats for the Weyr, surprise flickering across the glittering starscape, machinery whining as it shifts gear, « Miss Liareth! A pleasure. What brings you to these here parts? »

Kyara can see the two glowing blue orbs of her lifemate's eyes near the Lake, not too far off… but her pace slows as Liareth sits up suddenly, an energetic snort accompanying a surge of glad bubbling within her pools as she informs Kyara of Esanth's presence. The greenrider laughs a bit, coming to a stop. » Ask him if T'ral would mind a visit, would you? « she tells Liareth, and the pretty green concentrates all her greeting on the stocky blue, steam thick and swirling with happy energy and bergamot as fountains and pools babble merrily in the warm light of wall sconces. « Esanth! Mine visited her brother, but wonders if yours would like to meet. It has been far too long! » Not that she actually knows that; she just has Kyara reminding her, of course.

« He's hip deep in scribbly business. Get him out of there. » Whether T'ral wants it or not, Esanth is of a mind with most of the Weyr. Books… blargh. A picture of the Archives accompanies the request, branches of the treebroom backlit against the skylight with glowing golden glowlight. The Archives as seen from the air and T'ral's more conventional view, books and tables and lamps. The blue does not bother to pass this information along to T'ral… while he does think the time could be better spent DOING things… the happy industrious bubbling along the link is enough for Esanth to leave the man to his work a while longer. For his part, T'ral is scribbling notes on a page accompanied by rather eloquent stick figures.

Liareth relays the image of the Archive Library along to Kyara, who rubs her neck in thought for a moment before turning and making for that very room. She's been there…once. Hopefully she won't get lost! Meanwhile, her lifemate is watching the sky intently for Esanth's arrival. « You have always been gone, when we have come, » the pretty green states, again drawing on Kyara's memories and sounding a bit perplexed. Kyara finally finds the door to the Archives and slips in side, momentarily thrown and impressed by the sight of the skybroom in the midst of the place. She has been here before…but not enough to be used to this sight. With a small smile, she slowly looks around until amber gaze falls upon a familiar figure. How to approach him? She can't just assume something will trigger recognition…but perhaps she can try. Clearing her throat lightly, she approaches his table quietly, her smile widening cautiously. "T'ral?" she calls quietly, not wanting to simply barge into what he's doing.

The blue dragon stoops, folding wings to drop, a darkness swiftly blotting and revealing stars, moving against the darkening night, he rears back and with powerful strokes of stardusted wings, arrests the downward trajectory to land lightly in front of Liareth. Trotting to bleed off the last of landing's momentum, the slatey blue extends his heavily jawed muzzle to Liareth, a twisting column of stars breaking from the constellations to twist down, down, down to the welcoming swelter of steam and water and incense. In the Archives, T'ral pauses, looking up, hand stilled over his hides. "Hmmm?" A quick murmur, There's a flicker of polite inquiry and, after taking in her Northern knot and colors, a sense of cataloging, calculating. It's a longer than normal moment before he stands smoothly, a finger pegged to a spot on the page where he left off. "I am. Can I, ah, help you?"

Liareth croons as she stands with a rustle of wings, stretching her finely carved features out to touch her nose to Esanth's…and then she pads around him, looking him over as if there's something a bit…different about him that she can't quite place. Eventually, though, she decides all is in order and sits down beside him, tendrils of steam twining with the fall of stars and firelight dimming to let starlight glow forth from heated waters. « It is very good to see you again, Esanth, » she tells the blue, flipping the tip of her tail over his. She remembers where she learned this! In the meantime, Kyara presses her lips together a little at the bluerider's lack of recognition so far, but seeing the wheels turning, she tries one more tack. "A certain blue friend of my lifemate's saw fit to inform her that you were, ah…'hip deep in scribbly business' and had her point me your direction. Can't imagine why he'd do that," she says with a flippant bit of a shrug and a smirk as she watches for his reaction.

Esanth folds into a seated position, wings cattywampus. He rumbles, a deep groan that shivers through his hide, metal cold from the Void heating in the warmth of swirling steam. He leans into the lithe green, neck arcing against hers. He's leaner. Harder. Compact as ever, but stripped of spare flesh, scatterings of scars and scuffs dimly reflect the moonlight, a constellation writ in marred flesh across the dusty blue hide. His tail twitches under Liareth's. A feint. Machinery thrums, a vibration felt through the ground, « Lovely as ever, Miss Liareth. » T'ral's mouth flattens, eyes twinkling as he consults Esanth, » 'Hip deep in scribbling,' hmm? « No answer. The bluerider grins at the feed from his blue. Esanth's a'courtin'! T'ral's eyes drop to his notes, scanning, scanning, cataloguing again, narrowed… done. He blinks and comes around the table within proper greeting distance and grins, a light snort at his dragon's preoccupation, "A friend, then. I, uh," he slouches a bit, head tilted and eyes off looking into a corner sheepishly, "I don't remember you." Eyes flicker back up, taking a measure of Kyara now that she's closer. He's studying her to see if he remembers. THAT'S THE TICKET. "There was a thing." He gestures vaguely at his head. "An accident."

Closer up, Liareth is able to make out those little differences now, appreciating the scars as marks of growth and learning. The arch of Esanth's neck is met demurely by her own, the bath house of her mind quieting and the steam enfolding, the environment becoming something a bit more exclusive to the slightly younger blue. She snorts a little at his feint, not letting it get her tensed. « You were missed, » she notes, her melodic soprano a bit on the quieter side. Kyara knows why T'ral is grinning; Lia likes Esanth, and while she's a flirt anyway, she's been at it quite a bit more recently. Rubbing her neck, Kyara smiles, biting her lips together a little as she picks up on the exchange between the two dragons and then gently blocking most of it, straightening as she watches T'ral studying her. She's studying him right back, for the same reason he studies her - but by his words nothing significant is triggered, and she nods. "It's alright," she says, a hint of melancholy in her eyes…though she knows friendships can be reforged. "I'm Kyara, T'ral. Liareth's rider, from Igen." The reminder of his accident earns another nod. "I know. I heard the reports. I…tried to come a few times," and she may be feeling a little guilty for not having tried more, even though T'ral wouldn't have known if she did or not, "and Lia tried to reach Esanth sometimes but…he wouldn't answer. She always seemed a little put out by it," is added with a small chuckle. "But she's certainly happy enough now, and it's good to see you're back in action. Really."

Esanth straightens, wings opening and fanning slightly. « Not often enough! » There's a nasty threadscar on his chest, visible under charcoal gray straps. He settles again. « Fly with me. I'll give you the lay of the land proper like. » Dragon innuendo? The column of stars in the bath gone golden as they entered the welcoming heat, swirl and lift. At her name there is recognition. And that flickering look of cataloguing. Dark eyes grow intent, though the lopsided smile remains. "You were a good friend to me. If I didn't thank you before." He smiles, a trace of melancholy of his own, "Thank you." His eyebrows shoot up sharply, "I said your name the other day. I didn't, uh, remember you precisely," he scratches at his jaw, nails whickering in the close cropped beard, "But your name came up." He rolls a hand, "Unbidden." That's totally like knowing her. Right? Right.

If it is a dragon innuendo, it's fine by Liareth, being one to drop a few of those herself every now and again. At Esanth's invitation to fly, she hops to her feet with a rumble, steam trailing after the lifting stars as she fans ivy-limned pinions. « Lead on! » she says, tail undulating in anticipation. She's flown around Southern her share of times, but not in the evening, and not with another who knows the place inside and out. Smile widening with that glint of recognition she sees from T'ral, Kyara's eyes brighten slightly, and she dips her chin a little. "You're welcome," she says. "And I hope I can still be that." At his revelation about saying her name, a brow arches curiously. "Interesting," she observes, her tone thoughtful. "What were you talking about when it happened?" Not that she's a mindhealer and capable of deducing the significance of it…but she's curious nonetheless, perhaps searching for something more that might help bring forth more memories for him.

Turning by rearing up and pivoting, Esanth lopes two steps and springs aloft, beating hard for the sky. He takes her up, a wide sweep around the interior of the caldera bowl, skirting as close as he dares to the rocky, green-swept walls. And then up, breaking free of the Weyr on thermals that rise over the Hatching grounds -his own Hatching grounds- and out, low over the spreading green canopy to the river, along banks lit with the shifting lights of wisps that flicker out as the dragons speed past. T'ral leans against the table, arms folding across his chest, a comfortable perch, "Well, we'll have to see," wry, a glint of humor. "Were you…" he squints, "Looking for me?" He straightens, popping off the table edge with a flare of arms, "Can I get you anything?" he gestures at the cart of klah that is kept hot (more or less) day and night. This is an Archive for the People.

Liareth warbles happily as she takes off after Esanth and follows his daring route close to the Weyr walls and the upwards on the thermals, only to descend again to skim the jungles. This is her kind of flying, her appreciation for his bringing her along out here shown in the flaring of firelight among the mists of her mindscape, the scent of bergamot giving way here and there to sandalwood. Kyara chuckles, her smile wider than it might otherwise be as she picks up on Liareth's exhilaration. "Not specifically, no," she replies, folding her arms in turn as she assumes an easy stance. When he indicates the klah cart, she nods. "I'd love a mug of that; thank you," she says, nodding at the cart. "So…when you say you don't remember me, that means you have no memory of how we met or what it was that made us friends or anything at all?" she asks carefully. She just wants to be sure she understands as well as she can.

T'ral nods and snags his mug, slugging down the cooled dregs with a grimace as he ambles to the cart. He takes a fresh mug from the rack, peering into it, All clean, before filling it. He gestures at the fixins, sweetener, cream with upticked brows, "Not a thing. If not for my notes it'd be like we were meeting for the first time. Which, in a manner of speaking… we are." He doctors (or doesn't) the klah to Kyara's specifications and pours his own. "Oh. And from before… um," his jaw works, "I was trying to remember someone's name. A greenrider I met before the," he makes a large swiping motion around his forehead, with air quotes, "'Blank.'" He's about to perch on the table again before thinking better of it, gesturing instead to a set of comfortable armchairs. Out over the river, Esanth has led Liareth into a steep walled canyon just wide enough that only small dragons could risk entering it. And that's a close thing, requiring they roll and tuck and dive and climb as the walls turn and close, open and fall away. T'ral cocks his head, breath catching a moment. He huffs a little laugh, looking down into the mug as he settles himself into a chair. "Esanth's having fun."

"Oh…just a couple spoons of sweetening and top it with cream, if you don't mind," Kyara says of the klah, trying not to seem too eager to get it off his hands simply because she's not used to having someone do this for her! She nods over his confirmation of what he doesn't remember. "Did you ever figure out who it was?" she asks T'ral about the greenrider slipping his mind, lowering herself into one of the chairs and sipping at her klah. At the bluerider's laugh, Kyara's eyes unfocus as she tunes into Liareth again. The pretty green is having an absolute blast, and it's a relief to Kyara, having her lifemate distracted from flirting and doing things to exasperate her lately with challenging flying. "So is Lia," Kyara notes with a grin, coming back to herself. "Thank Faranth. Not she wouldn't be otherwise, of course," the greenrider tacks on quickly, "it's just…a different kind of fun, for a change."

"Yeah. Kalea. A rider here. I hadn't Forgotten her," captial 'F', "I just had to remember. Like, you know, normal. And dates," he adds, incongruously. Maybe it's not just his memory broken. "Um. Dates, bacon wrapped. From the Bazaar." He's saying the words without the ring of confidence that they're proper memories. They're words his brain's served up. "Point of fact, those are the only two things I know of that I've 'remembered.' Both from Igen." He gives a little shrug, and a purselipped Who knows? look. T'ral laughs, "Esanth hasn't been like this over anyone. 'Cept Jiamoth." He tunes into Esanth's feed eyes happily glazed a moment awash with the sensations of thrilling flight. "You sly dog," he murmurs, eyes coming back to present company, "He's courting! Though for him, any occasion is an occasion to fly." T'ral takes a sip of klah. "How did we meet?"

At the mention of dates, Kyara blinks, brows arching slightly. At first, she thinks he’s remembering the little fruits attached to a certain squat palm tree in a courtyard they’d ‘visited’ during an undertaking they’d been involved in at Igen…but then he qualifies them as bacon-wrapped, and she laughs. “They’re certainly worth remembering,” she says, and then she’s smirking, rubbing her neck as the bluerider observes what he does about his lifemate. “His timing is better than he knows,” she almost mutters, and then she glances back up at T’ral, weighing his last question. “Well…technically, I think we met when your weyrling class graduated to senior. Briefly. I don’t think we traded more than greetings,” she says. “Then you were visiting Igen, and Liareth just happened to go up that day…” Her cheeks suddenly flushing a deep pink, she looks somewhere off to her left, one finger tapping her mug. “Esanth caught. His first, you said; I… tried to keep things easy. Which I guess worked well enough, considering we kept talking after that and… there was an issue with someone I tried to help you sort.” Deeming it wiser not to mention Prymelia, she clears her throat a bit and brings her eyes back to T’ral. “Our two like each other a lot, obviously,” she notes with another smirk.

T'ral leans forward, brow furrowing mightily, "That was you." He licks his lips, mouth open as he looks off and down, mouthing something to himself. He gives his head a shake and blinks rapidly, "I… that was you?" He's a little flat-footed. And repeating himself. He shakes his head again, "Sorry. There's a bit missing in my notes." He seems most upset about that, really. That his record of events wasn't complete. At the mention of Kyara's subsequent help his face draws neutral, flickering between curiosity and confusion. "You don't have to talk around it. Prymelia called off things between us. I'm still not sure why." He looks down, lost a moment in troubled thought. "When I said you were a good friend to me," he nods, gesturing at her with a rolled hand, "That's what I meant. My notes on that are intact." Archivist and all. He's quiet a moment longer then shakes thoughts off again and returns his attention to Kyara and her dusty rose cheeks. "Well, you've nothing to be embarrassed about. At least," his dark eyes twinkle as a grin slips lopsided, "Not that I recall."

The same statement coming twice from T'ral is doing nothing to help lessen Kyara's blush, and she simply nods in response. When he brings up Prymelia, however, she actually looks a bit relieved. "I'm not sure either. I never did get to talk to her after all that. I'm… glad I was able to help, though." She is, perhaps, a bit surprised to learn that he's taken notes on all this, though does recall the Archivist thing and chalks it up to that. The grin and his last really don't help her blush, probably deepening it a little. Still, she grins in turn. "Well. Yes. And thank you. It's not really embarrassment so much as… I don't know. An interesting circumstance to get acquainted under, though I'm sure it happens all the time."

"I haven't talked to her either," another curious, confused flicker and a shrug that is more a quirk of breath and brow than shoulder. Moving on. "Yeah. Of course," Dark eyes glint as T'ral sips at his klah, toying with the sip behind pursed lips before swallowing it, "I blush like that all the time when I remember meeting someone." The teasing glint recedes as things Kyara said a moment ago sink in. "Better timing than he knows…?" Brows rise, brow furrowing in canine-like query. Another problem with Archivists… even things said and thought forgotten are, in fact, only waiting for absorption, analysis and synthesis. "Are you…? Is she…? Soon?"

Oh, couldn't T'ral just have forgotten those things, too? Kyara swears she walks right into it at times. "I suspect so, yes, but I couldn't say when exactly," the greenrider confirms, her words coming rather more quickly than normal. Latching on to the humorous glint in the bluerider's eyes and his flippant comment to change tack with, she smiles crookedly. "It must be a very interesting life you lead, if every remembered meeting makes you blush, T'ral." She lifts her mug to her lips, takes a rather long pull in order to hide behind the wide-bottomed vessel for a moment to lessen some of the color in her face, and sets it aside. She also gently nudges Liareth to head back to the Weyr in fairly short order. Suddenly, a rather pointed possibility comes to the fore in her mind - one only a Harper would appreciate, really - and her brow furrows slightly. "Do you still remember music? How to play and whatnot?"

"Well if that's how I introduce myself, I should say so!" A bright flash of teeth in the neat, dark beard. Taking the cue from Kyara, T'ral takes a long draw off of his mug and sets it aside. "Mmm… mmmhmmm," he affirms around a sip, duly swallowed. The mug clacks, sounding empty. "Memory's perfect up to the moment," he snaps, "Of Impression." He grimaces. Weird, right? "In some ways, I remember music better probably." He looks at his traitor hands, callused in all the wrong places. "Three turns of NOT playing music doesn't match up, up here," he taps his temple with crooked finger. "Can't do things I know I should be able to." He pauses, the feed from Esanth changing as the two cavorting dragons race for the Weyr. His face grows serious and he holds out a forestalling hand - he'd been socked recently enough that he wasn't really feeling his oats at the moment, "I'm sure you know your business better than I do, but, ah, should you be here with Liareth close to rising?" Here. Southern. Not home.

"Good," is Kyara's relieved assessment of T'ral's remembrance of music, and she glances down at the bluerider's hands along with him. "Yes," she says with a chuckle. "One of the most frustrating things about turning from Harper to rider. Music never sits quite the same in our hands." Also made aware of the dragons' impending return, Kyara straightens a bit, though T'ral's last brings some seriousness to her own face, and she nods firmly. "I may not be able to predict when in a Turn she'll rise, but I do know when it's time to keep us at home. She's fine for now," is asserted confidently. It isn't long before Liareth announces that she's back, though she's slightly displeased with having to leave already. Kyara smirks a bit at her lifemate's discomfiture, then finishes off the remainder of her klah before looking to the bluerider again. "It's been good seeing you again, T'ral," she says with a warm smile. "Don't hesitate to find me if you're ever up at Igen. At least I'm a little familiar again!"

Esanth brings Liareth back along the bridge arcing into the weyr entrance, he glides low along the carved stone and with a flirt of sails, tucking hard, he rolls and drops out of view under the span of arching stone, backwinging below to bleed off speed and rise up behind Liareth as she speeds by. Hit the brakes and she'll fly right by. Chaser is now chased! He snaps at her tail, the column of stars speeding along ahead of him as he advances, a glittering vanguard. "Of course, as I said. You know best," he winces, shrugging. "It's all a little new to me. Again." He stands, looking at the hides and tomes arrayed on the long tables with pursed lips. Dreary, dusty stuff, no one would mess with it surely. Just in case, "A moment," T'ral hustles over to the guard on duty talks to him a moment. The guard nods and T'ral returns. "Can I walk you out?" Brows ticked up in query. Southern's dark and twisty and prone to skeletons in the most unexpected places.

Liareth warbles raucously at Esanth for that tricky move, though in her mind is laughter, ringing between each rich marble wall and column as heated pools effervesce and steam whirls and billows as if a strong breeze blows through to chase his starlight. « Clever! » she declares. « You will need that! » Upon landing, she bounds away to wait for the blue, intending to…do something. Pounce at him a little, maybe? Nudge him, at the very least. Inside, Kyara is fastening her jacket in preparation for leaving. “It’s alright,” she says to T’ral’s first, then watches as he consults the guard and gives the bluerider a smile and nod for his offer. “I’d appreciate it, T’ral. Thank you.” Then she waits for him to lead the way out, because it is dark and twisty and it wouldn’t do to take a wrong turn at this time of evening.

Esanth lands, bounding along after Liareth, bleeding off the speed of landing in several lopes. He crouches, curled at Liareth's posture and waits for her lunge, flipping his tail over hers in a last bid for dominance at Tail on Top. Was the whole flight meant to lure her into just this moment? Surely not. T'ral chuckles at the play of his dragon. The bluerider offers his arm to Kyara and steers the two of them out, giving a nod to the guard. "You're welcome, of course." He snorts, holding the heavy Archive door open so that Kyara can pass through it before him. "They are incredibly silly." He offers his arm again, pausing to look first one way up the hall, then the other. "Um. It's… this way." He pauses, a hand lifted, fingers aloft, pointing lightly, "I think." Delivered entirely deadpan, the earnest confused look held a long moment before dark blue eyes glint and a wry grin twists his lips. Pure mischief.

Liareth springs at Esanth…but doesn’t quite pounce him really, instead landing with a stiff-legged bounce close enough to jostle him. Perhaps it’s something she borrowed from Kehemath? She carries it off with a pointed snort, slipping her tail out from under his and trying to flick him with it before coming to rest with rumble, eying the blue with a yellow-green gaze swirled with blue. “Yes, they are,” Kyara agrees with a wry, crooked smirk as she follows T’ral with her hand hooked inside the elbow of the arm he offers. She blinks at his ‘confusion,’ brow furrowing slightly as she looks both ways, and then she catches the mischievous grin and shakes her head, though she grins in turn. Venturing a nudge to his side with her own elbow, she says, “This…is one part of you I didn’t get to see very much of. It’s nice.”

T'ral squeezes Kyara's hand in the crook of his arm, pressing it to his side, a friendly catch. "Well, you've seen every other part of me. Only makes sense you see this too." He lifts his head, a regal look of judgment passed, "Wildly unfair, that." Delivered deadpan again. "Not remembering." Esanth dips his head, sending a dazzling spray of twisting starfall shimmering through the steam and then they drop, kersplash, and swirl, still dazzling but calmer. « That sly dog, » Esanth sends to Liareth. « He's courtin'. » The blue dragon stands against the jostle, planting to absorb the impact. He rumbles at the tail twitch, making no attempt to dodge it and rubs his jaw along Liareth's.

« If yours is, she does not see it, » Liareth returns, subtle chuckling echoing from somewhere just out of sight from this particular pool within her mind. Sitting back, she croons at the attention from Esanth, coyly arching her neck and leaning against him a little even as she goes on. « Mine is attached to another. She may remind yours of that, should she come to suspect he is doing as you say. » Kyara blushes yet again when T’ral points this out - perhaps not as deeply, but she’d likely be rubbing her neck again were it not for the fact that he has her hand. “Well…to be fair, I don’t remember too much. Lia’s fault,” she qualifies, managing a bit of a chuckle. “That’s how much of a grip she gets on me, when she flies. It…takes a while to wear off.” All things considered, she’s mostly glad for that fact. “Not to say it wouldn’t have been worth remembering more of…” Falling silent, she bites her lips together a bit. There she goes, walking into things again.

« He likes her. » The stars form constellations, shapes writ in light and understood only when the whole is glimpsed, but not holding position long enough for any one impression to fully form. Twined limbs, walled gardens, stretching trees, a road vanishing into infinity. « This 'other.' Is he a good man? » Esanth, the meddler. T'ral just lets Kyara ramble, tongue tracing the backs of his teeth, lips twisted in wry good humor. He barks a laugh at her last. He crooks a finger and brushes it lightly down her cheek, eyes still twinkling merrily, "That's a good color on you."

If Esanth is a meddler, he is in good company indeed. Yet this is one matter in which Liareth will not meddle - not anymore, at least. She studies those fluctuating shapes and pictures quietly for a moment, not entirely sure what to make of them. « She likes him as well, » the pretty green says, the steam of her baths thickening and standing a bit, as though to obscure something undefined, « but simply as a friend. The other is a good man. She loves him. » That stated in a decisive way still rather foreign to the green, but matter-of-factly because it is Truth to her rider. Kyara is a bit surprised at that brush of cheek from T’ral, brows arching a bit higher. “So I’m told by those who get me to wear it,” the greenrider says, smiling even as she slips her arm from T’ral’s to catch his hand and give it a decidedly friendly pat before gently returning it to him. “Particularly a certain bronzerider back at home.” Her smile is subtly apologetic and a bit careful; she doesn’t want to push T’ral away after he’s just met her again, after all.

"Scooped!" T'ral howls tossing his head back, eyes scrunched shut. "Man, I miss out on all the good stuff." He collects himself, peering sidelong at Kyara, with lips pressed together in an eyes-narrowed, bemused skeptical regard. He re-affixes his neckerchief, tugs his coat more neatly into line and fingercombs short hair along his temples before sighing dramatically, "FINE. Bronzeriders," he snorts, rolling his eyes. He reoffers his arm, still smiling mischievously. "No shenanigans. I promise." He draws a cross over his heart. "Who were you again?"

Relieved that T’ral isn’t put off by her bit of rebuffing, Kyara grins and gratefully renews her hold on his arm. “I know,” she sighs with mock exasperation at the mention of bronzeriders. “Such a corrupting influence.” At his last jibe, she outright laughs. “Does this mean I get to make up a new story now?” She peers ahead; they must be close to being outside by now.

"Corrupted…" T'ral arcs a brow at Kyara and snorts, incredulous, "You? What must you have been like before?" He boggles, eyes drifting off to imagine a less corrupt version of the gentle, upright woman on his arm. "Nope. Brain broke again. Good job." Facetious. Another squeeze. Totally not macking on your girl, N'thu. "Of course! Every time we meet." And, they're there. At the entrance to the Living Caverns. T'ral opens the last of the doors and steps inside the arc to hold it open. "My best to Liareth," he smiles warmly at Kyara eyes tracking out to see where Esanth is braced against Liareth, crooning. "I think Esanth has already delivered his." He chuckles and gives Kyara's hand on his a squeeze before turning loose of her, "Thanks again for your help," he tosses his head, indicating the past, "Back at Igen." He shrugs, it doesn't matter to him that he doesn't remember. "Fair skies, Kyara."

“More shy, more reserved,” Kyara answers with a bit of a one-shouldered shrug, chuckling again at T’ral’s continued joking. “Well, it’ll give me a good excuse to revisit my player training, at least,” she concludes, and she steps out past T’ral, the warm smile returned before she also looks out toward the dragons with a little shake of her head. “She says thank you, and I’d have to agree there.” With a laugh, she adds, “My best to Esanth as well.” When he thanks her, she becomes a bit more thoughtful, but she nods. “Of course. I’m glad I was able to.” Even if it’s nothing more than words on a page now, really. “Fair skies, T’ral. I hope to see you again soon.” With a parting wave, she’s off to Liareth, who reluctantly peels away from Esanth in order to let her rider mount up. « It was good to see you again, Esanth, » she intones with one last thick brush of steam across the blue’s star-spangled mind. And with that, the green pair is off, back home to the desert.

Esanth rumbles at Liareth and extracts himself, turning a heavily-jawed head to regard Kyara, rumbling at her too as he collects himself onto his haunches, drawing up to regard them both, neck curved and countercurved, head canted cockily, tail wrapped around his haunches, wings cattywampus. « Likewise, Miss Liareth. » T'ral raises a hand in farewell and watches until the greenpair is aloft and away before turning back inside, returning to his 'punishment.'

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