Who | |
What |
Ikkasanaith's curiosity ruins Rhydian's measurements. |
When |
It is midmorning of the twenty-eighth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass. |
Where |
Southern Weyr Lower Bowl |
OOC Date |
Lower Bowl
Cobblestones sweep as far as the eye can see, a unique feature to the lower section of the bowl — but necessary, perhaps, as the stepped western bowl drains off into this high-trafficked area. The shallow bowl is bounded by craggy-black bowlwall with entrances pockmarked - and some boarded over in an effort to prevent entry from un-renovated caverns. Directly south, the wall neatly crumbles away to roll southerly into rollicking fields of soft hills; a glance of the stables can be seen through the gap, nestled against the entrance bridge that spans westward.
Timor: Belior:
It may be morning, but besides those who have specific duties they have to carry out, the outdoors is deserted in light of the rain that continues to drum down. If the lower bowl weren't covered in cobbles then it would likely be a mudbath by now, though as is, traffic passing through has managed to drag a decent amount of it throughout, and puddles splash messily up everyone's legs. Standing out in the open, covered in a heavy-duty rain mac with the hood up over his head, is Rhydian; the Starcrafter is staring down at a tubular device, set on a base and pointing up to the sky. On the ground beside it is an hourglass, the sand within it nearly all passed through to the lower bulb.
Ikkasanaith's descent is incredibly swift and haphazard, sending quite a few of the Weyr's denizens who were already trying to escape the drizzle running the rest of the way. If her plummeting from the sky is terrifying normally, it's probably doubly so through the lens of the long-distance viewing device. The large green careens in for a landing, wings flapping haphazardly to slow her down enough not to faceplant into the floor of the bowl. Still, her claws hit the ground with enough force to cause the standing water about to splash, inadvertantly causing a radius around her to become the Soak Zone. Her rider gives an amused snort as she undos the fighting straps she never rides without. The woman smoothly dismounts, her graceful movements a stark contrast to her dragonic counterpart's. The helmet is popped off her head and she shakes her hair loose, putting one hand to her forehead to attempt to block the rain from getting into her eyes. Ikky gives herself a shake like a wet canine, making sure that anyone near her that wasn't already soaking wet is now. "Ikk!" Kriane exclaims in dismay, looking over to the Starcrafterthe only one standing around in this weatherwith a chagrined smile. "Sorry about that, Journeyman, she's a little…" She waves a hand as she tries to find the right words to describe lifemate. "Well, she just is."
Splashing water entering his pluviometer is not good, and Rhydian does not look impressed as he stares, distraught, from his equipment to Ikkasanaith, to her rider. He grimaces, pushing rain-spattered glasses back up his nose as he reaches up to ruffle his hair - something that can't be done without pushing the hood of his mac down. "Shit," he finally says, shaking his head in defeat. "That… that was nearly an hour, and… shit." A notebook is pulled from his pocket, flipped open to a page full of numbers. Rhyd runs his finger down a column, shaking his head when he reaches the first blank spot. "I… the measurement," he says to Kriane, perhaps hoping for sympathy - understanding, at the least. "… it's compromised."
Kriane is about to continue her well-manner apology to the man when Ikky's head wheels around his way, which she does by making a three point turn with her entire body. Kriane manages to duck under a wing as it comes swinging over her head, done with such grace and dignity it's obvious they've done this exercise hundreds of times before. The wedge-shaped head gets right up on the man and his rain collector, blocking anymore from getting into the device. Just in case it wasn't compromised /enough/ already. Her snout gets within a few inches of the strange thingy before sniffing it… and promptly sneezing. Sigh. She tilts her head, hopefully missing Rhydian with it, and regards him with a slowly twirling eye. "I don't know, Ikky," the woman continues answering aloud in exasperation, hopefully giving the young man good enough warning, "why don't you ask the poor Journeyman you're harassing?" A voice floats into his mind, as if brought there by the lapping of ocean waves against the shore, along with tinges of bright pink and purple and… is that the smell of lilies? «Wassat? The thingy. What. is. the thingy.» Kriane just hangs her head, shaking it at her lifemate's antics. If she thought scolding would do any good, she'd probably do that. «Is it a hat? It, like, totally looks like a hat.» The dragon's mental voice takes on the tone of an overexcited teenage girl as she continues, turning her head again and trying to get it upside down enough to put the top of her head on it, flecks of irritated orange appearing in her eyes as she just barely manages to not do it, the tips of her wings fluttering before settling back against her large sides.
With his data collection well and truly ruined, Rhydian hangs his head and rubs his hand across his forehead. With dragonsnot, puddlewater and more in his sample, the Starcrafter decides to just call it a loss; he picks the pluviometer up and tips out its contents, sighing heavily. The hourglass, too, is picked up, reset as he puts the measuring tube back down on the ground to start it all again. When Kriane speaks aloud, Rhydian blinks at her curiously… then goes stock still when the dragon's voice is suddenly there in his head. He blinks, screws his eyes tight shut, and holds a hand up to the green in a silent request for her to stop - a request that's very much there in his thoughts. "Whoawhoawhoa, no." Eyes blink open, and he looks pleadingly at Kriane. "Please. No. That's… that's too weird."
«OH!» Ikky exclaims to him, wave breaking upon the beach and quickly receeding from his mind. She awkwardly retreats backward, ducking her head against Kriane's back. Another apologetic smile is awarded to the poor, poor Starcrafter as she reaches back to give the green some scritches on her eyeridges. Her eyes lose their focus, a conversation at the speed of thought grabbing her attention, and then the dragonrider is back in the bowl again. "I'm really sorry about that, Journeyman," she begins as she edges forward, Ikky snuffing in surprise and lumbering forward with her 'rider. If she can't see him, he can't see her, right? Kriane expression softens slighty as she gives the green oaf a pat on the snout, "Sometimes curiousity gets the best of her. Kriane, rider of Ikkasanaith. Pleased to met you. I'm terribly sorry about your, uh," she pauses, quirking an eyebrow at the device before venturing, "measurements?"
Rhydian cringes when there's another intrusion in his mind, biting down on his lip to stop from commenting out loud about it - though his expression likely says it all. And then, when he sees how the green reacts, his look of frustration shifts to one of guilt. "Um… no. It's alright. One hour'll, well, I mean, I do want to measure each hour, but - but at least I'll know how many hours the rain's been falling, even if I can't, um, measure the amount of rain, uh, precisely…" He's rambling while trying to find a silver lining. The Journeyman's lips twitch into a smile when Kriane introduces herself. "Rhydian. Starcraft. You've, ah, got the Journeyman bit." He scratches at his stubbled cheek, looking beyond the rider to her dragon. "Is she, ah, is she ok? I didn't, um, upset her, did I?"
Even if Ikk's body language indicates distress, Kriane gives him a reassuring smile. "She'll be fine. Won't you, Ikk?" The dragon peeks one many-faceted, jeweled eye out from behind the woman's back like a shy child being encouraged by her mother. As soon as she sees Rhydian looking at her, she ducks it again. Kriane covers her mouth to stop a giggle at the expense of her dragon. "Nice to meet you, Rhydian." Another glance is given to the contraption and Kriane nods decisively, "We'll get out of your hair. I'd hate to mess up your information even more, and it looks like you're quite busy." The green wedge peeks out once more as she sloooooooooowly and caaaaaarefully backpedals so she doesn't splash anymore water about. Her rump bumps into a wall and she looks backwards, changes her course, and settles herself into a nook. Her 'rider gives the man a part wave as she heads towards the living cavern to warm herself up with a nice, hot cup of klah by the hearthfire. On that thought, she adds in the voice of a mother, "Don't stay out here too long and catch cold, now. At least come and grab some hot klah now and again." And then she's off.