Ibrahim, Kyriatis


An early-morning catch up.


It is dawn of the tenth day of the fifth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Koi Pond, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 29 Jun 2018 23:00


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Koi Pond

This open space is where Phagian's famed roses grow. And grow they do, in a profusion of sizes and colours. Tiny miniature roses in low boxes, rosebushes in ordered ranks behind, wild roses twining upon arched trellises over the path and the bench at the head of the pond, every plant is healthy and neatly pruned. They are also labelled. Here is the red-on-white of Fire and Ice, there the simple crimson of Heart's Desire, over yonder the inky shadow of Blackthorne, and bobbing practically beneath your hand the vibrant gold of Susanna. The pond is a palette of bright colours as well. Within its dim refractive depths there lurk the ornamental koi. Each fish an ancient Oriental soldier in full scale mail, and proud of his polychromal coat. Warm colours are most common, bright vermillion, marigold orange, sunshine yellow, but also there are other, rarer colours. Here a splash of emerald flashes, there a streak of jet, a swatch of white, a blink of azure. Dozens of bejewelled ichthyoids play in this broad pool's depths, each fat, well fed, and haughty.

Sunrise spills over the pond, highliting the famed roses of Phagian, touching each type in turn and dusting them with brilliant, pale gold. The pond itself is still somewat shadowed, and the fish in it lazily undulating in a group, ignoring the trailing fingers of a slender, small wildling lying poolside. Not at all surprising, Ibrahm has managed to ditch his shirt, though his long leather trousers are still on. Good luck convincing him to return to the more prim and proper fashion of the Weyr, though. Curled up across his shoulders like some kind of living tattoo, Nicandra gleams golden in the sun, napping happily away.

Autumn sunshine is the best sunshine: the kind of sunshine that comes with warmth but not oppressive heat (or at least most of the time). Kyriatis' time in the candidate barracks has not diminished her 'morning person' tendencies, it seems, because despite the earliness of the hour she's awake and lively, the staccato of her footsteps as she approaches suggesting a gait closer to a skip than a walk. A moment's silence - footsteps and all - perhaps notes the moment when she registers Ibrahim's presence, especially as it's followed a moment later by an amused, "Enjoying yourself?"

Ibrahim turns his head at the sound of those footsteps, smiling slightly. Whoever it is, they're certainly spirited this morning! And when Kyriatis comes into view, the amusement curls the corners of his mouth, warm and welcoming. She's such a sweet kid he'll even forgive her for 'disrupting' his 'meditation' (read: out here doing absolutely nothing.). He'll push himself into a sitting position despite Nicandra's wild, irritated screech of protest before she huffily withdraws to a nearby rosebush to crouch and grumble and glare in a fit of epic firelizard proportions. Ibrahim, naturally, ignores her. "I am. It's soothing out here. Why wuld I not?" He arches an eyebrow at her, curious. "How's candidacy treating you?"

'Spirited' is a good way to describe Kyriatis and that's apparently especially so this morning: she moderates her skip into something fractionally more sedate as she approaches, but the 'fraction' is a tiny one, barely worth mentioning. "It's a lovely spot," she agrees, letting her fingertips hover idly over the (largely bare, given the time of turn) rosebushes closest at hand. "It… goes, I suppose. I can't say it's treating me badly, except that it feels utterly interminable."

There's an enjoyment of the nearly-bare garden that many may not understand; Ibrahim is not one of those uncomprehending sorts. He seems to like the way many of the plants have retreated to rest for a season or two before it's time to light up the landscape with their riot of color once again. And there's always the fish. "Hmm. There's a soothing sort of beauty here, I think." He smiles fondly down on the koi, and trails his fingers into the water again. This time, one of the koi deigns to swim regally forward and nibble his fingers briefly. "I can understand that. Never-ending chores, never-ending salutes, and wondering when and how it will all end."

"Mm," agrees Kyriatis, who seeks out a nearby bench to perch upon, feet brought up to balance upon the edge so that she can wrap both arms around her legs. From this position, she can consider Ibrahim - and the pond itself - quite comfortably. "Yes, all of that. I think we're all… restless. Impatient. Everyone keeps saying that we should be enjoying the experience, but I think I'm past that, now. But maybe I was from the start, I'm not sure."

"I don't quite understand," Ibrahim frowns. "how one would enjoy the 'experience' of being a drudge, there for everyone to order about relentlessly." He tilts his head at Kyriatis, wondering if she might have an idea of what this 'enjoyment' might entail. "I spent a very brief time as an apprentince in a craft — and I must admit I didn't enjoy it, much, so that may color my feelings toward this." He laughs softly at her admittance of restlessness. "Why am I not surprised that you're heartily tired of all the restrictions?"

Wryly, "I think the idea is that you bond with each other, make life-long friendships, and get excited about all the possibility inherent in what's to come." There's dubiousness in Kyriatis' expression as she relates that, and the shake of her head that follows certainly seems firm enough: she doesn't believe it. "You know me too well. Free spirit, that's me. Free spirit… open to the possibility of a future in a militaristic structure. Were you really an apprentice? A healer apprentice?"

Ibrahim squints. Really. It all sounds quite… ghastly to him, to be crowded into a single room and expected to come out of it loving every one of those in there with you. But he'll forbear to comment, aside from a scoffing sort of snort, muffled just slightly too late by a cough before he turns an innocent gaze to Kyriatis. "Indeed. Anyone who has spent five minutes in your company ought to have known that." As to her last, he shakes his head slowly. "Seacraft, actually. There was a time when I thought I might prefer the sea to healing. Turns out, I was wrong."

Kyriatis' expression shows plain amusement in answer to Ibrahim's muffled snort, but she forebears to comment on it aside from the smirky look on her face. "Anyway, at least it's not for too much longer, and then… well, then I'll know. What about the sea didn't work for you? It sounds… freeing? I'm not sure. Something."

They're well-matched in the mischief department, Kyriatis and Ibahim; that much is as obvious as the sun! Their humor even matches. "The sheer drudgery of working for others' profit, and expectation that I would grovel for the priveledge of doing so." Plainly, Ibrahim is not inclined to these sorts of things. He's done well so far in the Weyr simply by not being under another's complete authority — he can leave at any time, and it bolsters him. "At least you only have a little while left — how long, have they said yet?"

Kyriatis makes a face: clearly she can imagine why this particular arrangement would not especially work for the wildling. Her fingers splay, idly smoothing the light fabric of her trousers. "Better to be as you are," she agrees. "Much more control over your own life, that way. Freedom of a different kind. No, not specifically. Just the inevitable 'not much longer, now' and 'make sure your robes are ready!' But the eggs are looking… different. Harder."

Ibrahim grins wryly, agreement writ large on his features. He's certainly not upset by the return to control of his own life; freedom is a heady thing, unfettered by rules not of his own making. "I certainly can't disagree with that. Happier, that way." More relaxed and all that. To the rest, he wrinkles his nose a little. "So much mystery attached, yes? But at least you can see some progress with the eggs themselves, I think. Do you have a favored one, as so many candidates do?"

"We all have to find the way of living that works for us, and go with it," supposes Kyriatis. "And not… judge anyone else for feeling differently. That's important, isn't it?" She wiggles her toes in their sandals, and makes a face. "I'm trying not to have a favourite one, this time. I did last time, and… well, it hatched a bronze, so that was no use to me. I did like a couple, when I touched them, but… I'm trying not to like them too much."

She supposes correctly! Ibrahim can find no quibble with such an attitude — in fact, he finds it refreshing, his his slow, gentle smile is any indication. Since the koi are now completely uninterested in his (foodless) fingers, he'll withdraw them to be put to better use in twisting his hair into some semblance of a runner-tail. "Hmm, yes. I could see how you'd arrive at that. Better to not be too hopeful, rather than suffer as deep a disappointment as before, yes?"

Kyriatis' nod is slow, but firm. "Right," she agrees. "I need to just… relax and accept that maybe my dragon is inside one of them, and maybe it isn't, and even if I did like some more than others, that doesn't mean my dragon's in one of the ones I liked. So… just wait and see. But," abruptly she grins, "I'm impatient to know. I don't know how Ginger's done this so many times. Or anyone. I'd go mad. Will you… will you come and watch?"

"Or worry and fret impatiently, as you are more apt to do." Ibrahim eyes her sidelong, grinnins mischieviously. "I cannot see you changing on that score, even if that's what you're 'supposed' to do,a ccording to the social rules. Why not just be who you are and behave accordingly?" He shrugs, dismissing the idea that one must go along to get along and gain approval, especially if it isn't in one's nature to accept all things with calm equanimity. "I don't know how anyone would willingly do it more than once. And of course I will come and see. How can I not?"

Kyriatis blushes, but she's not denying the truth of Ibrahim's words. "I'm pretty predictable in this, aren't I?" She's unfazed by it— indeed, she's grinning. "I wish I knew how to just accept that this is the way I am. Only… I think it's because I am that way. I have to fret, even about my own fretting. Does that make sense?" There's genuine pleasure in her expression for confirmation that the wildling will be in attendance on the big day, her nod confirming his words. "Good. I'm glad."

Ibrahim nods slowly. "Actually, it does." Ibrahim assures gently. He pulls his legs up, hugging his knees to his chest as he considers Kyriatis sideways — his cheek laid across his knees. "You're questioning everything about life right now, why not how you conduct your own?" His smirk is conspirational. He's done that, too — still does it, on occasion. "I worry more about the relentlessy cheerful types, who never seem o stop and think about how their lives are unfolding. "I wouldn't miss this for anything."

Kyriatis chews on her lip, giving due consideration to Ibrahim's explanation. "So I should just keep on overthinking things," she supposes. "And just know that I'm probably going to worry about things that I can't change, but at least it'll make me feel… secure in that? Something like that. I don't really get the people who don't think about things! I'm cheerful, too, but… you can't let positivity get in the way of reality. You only get to live once. Do you have regrets? Things you think back on and wish you'd handled differently?"

"As long as that overthinking produces reasonable steps for you," Ibrahim cautions. "You know, plans for how to handle things if they don't turn out the way you like; steps you could take to get what you want." He glances aside as Wisteria joins Nicandra and the pair seem to have a little conference before flying off on lizardly business. Whatever, they'll be back eventually. "I think you worry so much because you want the security of a plan in place. So why not use that? Make plans, see what works for your life." And then she asks him that — and it causes a slight frown to slip across his features. "I… I do. A few things, here and there. Such is life, to have made mistakes."

"Plans," repeats Kyriatis, with a hint of uncertainty, quite as if she's not really considered this before. "So… I should have plan a, the thing that I think I want to work towards most. But also plans b through… well, however many others, for other things that could work out, if the first plan doesn't? So that even if things don't turn out the way I've anticipated, I still know what comes next?" She sounds pleasantly surprised by the end of this, and straightens, her shoulders drawing back. "Would you actively change anything in your life? I mean, knowing that it could change all kinds of other things?"

Ibrahim nods. "Exactly so. And then you're not left so…" He makes a vague hand-motion. "… out there. Twisting uncertainly in the wind with no idea what to do wih yourself. Realistically speaking, very few Candidate hopefuls attain a dragon. I've noticed that dragonriders are only a small part of the population of a Weyr. Which means not everyone will be a rider. I think that means you plan your life with an eye toward that not happening. And then, if your dragon is there — " He grins at her. " — you are even more thrilled to find him or her lookinng to you." See? Realistic optimism at work! "Hmm. That's a good question. I'd likely reconsider how easily I allow my emotions to become involved."

"There's usually at least twice as many candidates on the sands as there are dragons," agrees Kyriatis, her voice small but steady. "And that doesn't even take into consideration people who'd like to stand but don't get asked. I bet there are some of those, even within Weyrs. So. Yes. There are no guarantees. It's a good thing I have other ideas." Plans b through infinity are in motion. But she's smiling, all the broader. "Ah. So not specific big actions so much as… the way you react to things? That's interesting."

Ibrahim nods thoughtfully. The girl is as prepared as she can be; no reason to worry over it, though the wildling probably will. Kyriatis has grown on him in the time they'd known each other. She begins to remind him of a younger sister, both spritely and nervous by turns, but always amusing. "And, yes. How I respond to things; how I ignore deeper feelings and misgivings n favor of what I 'should' do."

Kyriatis' brow furrows. "That surprises me," she admits. "I always saw you as… I don't know. You seem so certain of who you are, and willing to be that regardless. Do you really ignore things in favour of what you think you should do and be?"

Ibrahim chuckles softly. "That you think so is a balm to the ego." He'll definitely take such a compliment from her! "I have, yes. I am not always as certain of everything I do as I might appear, you know. I'm not much older than you are."

Kyriatis is clearly amused that her words are considered a compliment, though there's still a furrow to her brow - and then, abruptly, she laughs. "I'm glad you've remembered that," she teases. "I'm not such a child as all that. I take the point, though: perception is everything. It's good to know you're fallible, too."

Possibly, Ibrahim is the most deliberately confusing person she's like to meet among the non-riders: by habit, he keeps much to himself, and perhaps from himself. "Huh. I can't imagine that you are all that childish. Even when you skip around like a six turn old." Here, he's clearly teasing her. "And yes. As much as I would like to arrogantly assume I know all, I don't. I really don't."

"I would say, especially when I do that. I'm doing it ironically, you see." Kyriatis is clearly not being all that serious as she says that, given her unrepentant grin, though it turns a little more solemn as she adds, "None of us do, really, I think. Not ever. We just pretend better, maybe." Her gaze lifts towards the horizon, tracking the morning sun. "I should get back."

Ibrahim chuckles. "At least you admit it." He, too, looks after the rising sun. "Hm. And I had best be off before someone decides there's more work for me to do." He's had enough work for quite a few hours, kthx. "Try to stay out of too much trouble, dear." And the wildling disappears among the plants, heading off to unknown mischief of his own.

"If I must!" says Kyriatis, laughing. Trouble is, after all, as trouble does.

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