Divale, Zaria


Zaria thinks she's in the right place… but Divale comes along to ruin the moment; both come to the conclusion that the bluerider wasn't entirely at fault


It is noon of the tenth day of the third month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Bazaar Guards' Workout Room, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 10 Jun 2018 04:00




Bazaar Guards' Workout Room

The Igen Bazaar Guards' Workout room is much like the rest of the bazaar: functional and worn with time and use.
The room is large and mostly dark, signs admonishing those ruffians to 'Put Your Weights Away' so one doesn't trip over them between rough wooden benches and high-backed chairs. Along the walls, leather bags filled to tautness with sand either swing gently or hang in ominous silence, guardians of punching power.
In the back is a change room, hidden by a curtain with a huge 'M' emblazoned on it. Nearby is a smaller closet with the mark for 'Women', a hastily constructed change room for those women who are willing to compete for benches with the men.
Finally, the best and worst thing about this workout room is the smell: the odor of Man Sweat that is lodged so deeply into the stone and wood that it may never recover. It is a scent that cannot be ignored after fresh air, a piquancy of hard work and discipline that assaults the nose and then embraces, welcoming one to share their own unique smell into the pot.

Feeling in the need for something a little more vigorous than a quick run around the lake, Zaria inquired where she might find some weights to work out on. She was directed to the Guard's training room by one of her wingriders and decided lunchtime could be a good time to check it out, hoping it won't be too busy. She was pleasantly surprised to find it empty and so began her routine. Now, dressed in shorts of dark navy and a simple white tank top that shows the top of the now healed threadscore slashed at an angle across her chest, she is laying on a sturdy wooden bench, a weight held in both hands over her head as she does some tricep extensions. Her breathing is steady and timed with each lifting and lowering of the dumbbell, while the bluerider focuses inwardly as she silently counts her repetitions.

The quiet won’t last forever but it won’t be Guards who come to disturb Zaria’s newfound workout spot. Just one lone, lean built and sombrely dressed figure that may, by now, be familiar to the bluerider. Divale won’t immediately intrude, choosing to lurk by the entranceway and lean against a nearby beam on the wall. It won’t be her voice to introduce her arrival, but the idle crunch from the bite she takes of the redfruit she’s holding instead. On the heels of that disturbance and after she’s cleared her mouth, she’ll murmur a shadowed: “What’re you doing in here?”

That crunch of redfruit causes the bluerider to blink slightly as she tries to maintain her count as she finishes her set. That murmured voice sounds very familiar and with the slightest turn of her head, she spies the figure in the doorway, but she's not quite done yet. A handful more repetitions and the bluerider sits up with a grunt as she lowers the weight carefully to the floor, "I'm working my arms right now, was going to move onto legs in a little bit," she replies matter-of-factly before she grabs a nearby towel and dabs at the sheen of sweat on her red face. Getting a sudden thought, she lowers the towel and looks over at Divale, "I'm allowed to be here right?" she asks almost timidly as she worries at her lower lip.

Crunch. Another bite of redfruit and Divale’s completely silent while her dark gaze fixates on Zaria. She’ll leave the other woman in peace to finish her round, though it’s difficult to say if it’s for the bluerider’s benefit or if the brownrider is privately enjoying the view. Yet when she speaks, her voice betrays little of her emotions, save for the usual levelled neutrality. “Technically not? You are not a Guard or affiliated through Parhelion.” She takes another bite of her snack, mostly to hide the ghost of a smile, mischievous and dark, that surfaces. “Takes a lot of nerve to intrude on what’s technically not for all of us to use and when we have our own space.” Straightening a bit, she’ll cease eating in favour of tilting her head as a thought comes to her mind. “… or did someone put you up to it and mislead?”

It's a good thing that Zaria's face is red from her exertions, because the blush that currently flares to life burn her cheeks. With a loud groan, she hides her face in her towel, mumbling incoherently at Divale's revelation, although a few select curse words and self-deprecating remarks can be made out. When she finally drops the towel again with a heavy sigh, there's a look of pure embarrassment on her features, her hazel eyes flicking up to Divale as she pushes herself up to her feet. "You give my nerve too much credit I'm afraid. I just mentioned to one of my wingriders that I wanted to do some weight training. I had no idea we had our own room." She groans as she goes to grab her workout bag and throws her towel in it. "I knew it sounded weird, why the shards didn't I trust my gut?" she laments mostly to herself, as she grabs her waterskin for a quick drink.

Well, isn’t this an amusing turn of events? Not so much for Zaria, but Divale’s inwardly laughing for the poor bluerider’s predicament. Chuckling low in her throat, she’ll finish off the last of her redfruit while the other woman deals with her embarrassment; core and all. It’s an odd habit she’s never quite dropped, but she rarely wastes much when it comes to food. “One of your own wingriders set you up to this?” A brow quirks, disapproval flickering slightly in her gaze but not directed to Zaria herself. “Is this some sort of private shared joke or do they have something against you…?” Brash as the statement may sound, it’s also just how her mind works at times in black and white.

"If this was meant to be a joke, I certainly don't find it that funny," Zaria remarks with furrowing of her brow as she grabs her pants and starts to wiggle into them. "As for having something against me…" she ponders as she does up her ties, "I wouldn't think so.." she seems awfully unsure at that though, having struggled with properly reading social cues in the past. "But even if it was just a case of hazing the Wingleader, can you imagine if it was anyone but you that found me here first?" she says with a softly thankful look in the brownrider's direction as she finishes packing away her things. "Now what to do about him is the question…" and an uncharacteristically dark look settles over Zaria's features.

“It was certainly poor taste,” Divale agrees with a smirk and yet her eyes flicker with some lingering mischief. Yes, she’s enjoying this but for her own reasons. She’ll leave Zaria to mull over the implications that she has a bad seed among her Wing, content for now to have merely planted the thought in the other woman’s head. “I’d imagine it would have been far more embarrassing and likely to be the talk of the evening among the gossips. You’d have that to shoulder, on top of what still is being circulated. No doubt more fodder for those who’re grumbling about women in ranks…” She rolls one of her hands in a ‘and so forth’ gesture. Divale could keep going but the point has been made! Tilting her head, she levels her with a neutral look while discreetly intrigued by that dark look the bluerider adopts. Ahh, a nerve has been struck? “It would be crossing lines and wrong of me to presume what you could do,” she begins, with a hint of bemusement. Nothing really stops her from suggestions, but she’s feigning propriety as far as their ranks go. “Or should do, concerning your Wingrider.”

"The last thing I need is more gossip being stirred about me," Zaris states the obvious as she listens to Divale rendition of what could have happened. "And none of us," females with rank that is, "Need any more grumbling on that score either," she declares with a little fire in her voice and a flash of her eyes, expression darkening further. Finally doing up her pack, she throws on her light jacket then shoulders it, obviously looking like she doesn't want to risk the doom Divale described by staying here any longer than necessary. But then the brownrider piques her interest with her presumption and quirks a ginger brow quizzically in her direction, "Indeed it might…however," and she lets a small smirk play at her lips, "It never hurts to have a second opinion when considering this kind of disciplinary measures…" she drawls, obviously intrigued at what the brownrider could have in mind.

Divale scoffs under her breath when Zaria states the obvious but she’ll hold her tongue from any further sarcastic remark. Truly, she’s behaving herself here! Seeing that the woman intends to pack up and leave, she’ll push off from where she’d been leaning on the wall and looks, for all intent and purposes, to keep by the Wingleader’s side. She’ll smirk in return, as the little game continues to unfold. “Perhaps,” she mulls in a similar tone to a playfully drawn out ‘wellllll’. “I suppose I could offer my insight.” If wind of this comes around, she’ll weather Eala’s displeasure with her later for meddling in Arroyo business — or messing with their Wingleader in general. “It’d start with a private talk with the one in question to see if they’d truly meant to be as malicious in their intent. Of course, they could deny it regardless, so that begs the question of just how hard to push. I don’t envy you the task!” Which is a lie she cleverly masks. Divale thrives off of such confrontations but this is not hers to play with.

Zaria ponders the brownrider's words as she exits the training room with some haste, wanting to get out of there already. Her brow is still creases in concentration as she mulls over the 'advice' and sighs, "A private talk is definitely in order," that much the Wingleader had already worked out for herself, although the question of how hard to push has her pursing her lips in thought. "I'm not much of a hard ass," Zaria admits, which is surely to be a big surprise to the brownrider…or not, "But he could have put our whole wing again under scrutiny which has already been damaging to morale." With one final sigh, she shakes her head a little bit, "I'll figure something out," she adds to herself, voice barely above a whisper.

“Then I suggest you start being one. Especially if this individual’s intent was to purposely set you up? You cannot afford to look weak,” Divale’s going to do a little push of her own on Zaria, turning to gaze sidelong to the woman with a heavy and meaningful look. Zaria’s not weak, is she? Her observation is met with a shadowed smirk. “Keep in mind of just how hard you have worked to get to where you are. Use that as your motivation…” she goes on to suggest, as they walk further away from the room and out into the Bazaar proper itself. It’s only when they meet a branch in the streets that Divale slows to a pause and glances off down one direction. “I’ve some business I need to attend to and so this is where we must part. Good luck, Zaria… and for your sake I hope this was merely a misunderstanding and just someone’s poor tastes in humour.”

Zaria blinks in surprise at Divale's recommendation that she starts being a hard ass, and there's something in her expression that shows that she's definitely considering it. "You're right. I can't afford to look weak," she says as she stands a little straighter, her shoulders thrown back, chin lifted. When they meet those branching streets, she pauses as well to offer the brownrider a quirky smile as she nods slightly, "I sure hope so as well," she concedes but it's obvious she's not convinced it was a misunderstanding. "Well, thanks for saving me back there, I appreciate it," even it if was by sheer coincidence, "Clear skies Divale," she returns with a bob of her head before heading off in the opposite direction, heading back to the Weyr proper, lost in thought as she continues to mull over her plan for her jokester of a Wingrider.

Whether Divale’s intentions were wholly good or pure in ‘saving’ Zaria back there, is an unknown! She won’t challenge the woman for her views, however or the interpretation. Instead she merely smirk and inclines her head in a proper farewell. “Clear skies, Zaria.” Turning, she will head in the opposite direction and deeper in the Bazaar to whatever ‘business’ it was.

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