Who

Ryker, Naneska

What

Naneska and Ryker encounter each other on the lakeshore. There are accusations, and counter-accusations, and perhaps some smiling. WTF?

cussin~

When

It is sunset of the fourth day of the third month of the eleventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Lake Shore, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 12 Jun 2017 12:00

 

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"Are ye askin' fer me hand in marriage?"


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Lake Shore

Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

It is the fourth day of Spring and 73 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


Spring has spring! It means that candidates are being put to work on washing dragons more, now that it's not literally a punishment. Ryker's out here with a crew finishing up on a careworn teddybear of a brown. The once-guard is stripped to shorts, a bundle of clothes up on the shore a fair distance a way. The khaki brown gives a little shake and adoringly slobbers over each candidate in turn before wading out of the water, streaming little torrents from all surfaces as he goes. Ryker, rather than get caught up in the mad rush to shore, take a more oblique angle, letting the group disperse without joining in on the post-activity festivities the younger candidates engage in.

Naneska is meandering somewhere close to where all this dragon-washing is taking place, but because she is NOT a candidate she doesn't need to volunteer her time to get a little closer to the cooling waters of the lake. She can do that excuse-free! So that is what she is doing this fine spring afternoon. Casually wading along the shore, sandals in hand and skirts hiked up so only the very edges of the hems kiss the water. The commotion with the browns extra love-filled (and dribbly) thanks is watched by keen hazel eyes even as her faces cracks into a grin. Oh, and then she is no longer alone. "G'day t' ye." It's polite, even and more than a touch wary.

"Miss," Ryker responds with a civil measure of politeness, lifting his eyes to Naneska's face briefly. Recognition dawns briefly before he dips to splash his shoulders and neck clean of any remaining dragon drool. White-silver scar tissue tells a story of a long-ago whipping, ragged and diagonal: still faintly pink marks tell of more of the same, well-healed but not aged. He straightens, glances once down the shoreline, and then turns his attention back to the trader. "Weyr's regards to… the Reika?" half-questioned, like he hasn't immediately placed her within his memory.

"Aye, I'm Reika." And because Naneska is Naneska, she'll keep going. "Technically I think t' weyr is as well, seein' as t' weyrleader is Reika too." There is a Reika infestation it seems. "Reika turns t' Weyr's regards." There is a slight dip to indicate the curtsy she can't complete without getting wet all over. And Ryker's doing enough of that for both of them. The scar's are noted with a faint narrowing of her light brown-ish eyes, but aside from a slight pursing of her lips nothing is said. "Naneska…" She's just going to cock her head to see if that jogs the terse candidates memory.

Ryker doesn't smile at the notion that the weyr's Reika - lets that slide up and over. Water off a duck's back. She's fitting propriety, and that is enough for tolerance in Ryker's book, evidently. "Yes, I remember," he says. "The stables." He doesn't speak on her desire to become a farrier, but follows her curtsy with a stiff bow from the hips, shallow but inimitable: a Holder's affectation. He will always be a son of Fort. "Stryker," he re-introduces himself. But then he furrows an eyebrow, briefly. "Naneska," he repeats, as if connecting a pair of dots.

Give her time, she'll cross those boundaries of propriety in some way. "Aye, tis me name, well done!" There is a bright verbal pat on the back for his memory skills. "They been givin' ye enough time t' git back there?" Sure he's half-naked, but Naneska is pretty much only socializing with candidates and riders these days (Way safer for EVERYONE). "Or they got ye in t' kitchens?" Despite her initial wariness, some of her perpetual cheek is starting to emerge.

"Haven't you shirked out of candidacy like… seven times?" Ryker has a new interrogation to accomplish, and due to that fact he ignores all the other pertinent details, like her questions or her cheekiness or the fact that his clothes probably won't be there when he gets back over to where they were before.

Naneska knuckles her hands to her hips (dragging that hem a little higher as she does so). "I ain't even bin asked." Which is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. "Can't shirk somethin' ye ain't bin asked t' do." Yep, she's super defensive about that WHOLE thing. Thanks Ryker.

"Is that the case." Ryker lifts his eyebrows at Naneska, a look of bland interest plastered over the lines of his face. He allows silence to drag itself out, an old friend come to visit. And he certainly does not look down at her legs.

"Aye it is!" Naneska huffs into the silence, begone! "Ye kin ask any o' 'em. Jinorav, Doji, Lyda…um… Kairmine!" Yeah it's an issue when she can't even remember half the names of those searched in her vicinity. "Oh! Herik too!" Her hands are still on her hips, most likely cos she's so busy defending herself she's forgotten, so if he wants a gander there is still time! "I've stood before ye know."

Ryker grimaces at her quite expressively. Turns out he's got quite the mobile face when he actually wants to display something on it. "Oh, so you're to blame for Lyda." That is an out-and-out accusation. The rest of it goes to the wayside because priorities, people, priorities.

"Do I look like a feckin' dragon to ye, Stryker? Or like I ride one o' 'em?" Thats it, Naneska is gunna start gesticulating, Rykers gone and done did it now! "I'm not sure who's t' blame fer her, but it ain't me." Grumble. She knows who started these cursed rumors that are floating around. "But I was there." Her hands and expression falls. There really is no point to her defending herself, no matter how hard she wants too. SHE IS CURSED OKAY?

"I don't know, maybe you are," Ryker replies with narrowed eyes at the girl. "Because by your own admittance you are cause enough for at minimum five candidates!" He narrows his eyes further, until he's squinting lean at her. "Did they put you up to it?"

Naneska blinks at the former guard? Bad guy? Ryker in despondent confusion. "Did who put me up fer what?" If she were scientifically inclined she'd blame it on pheromones or her personal magnetic field. But alas she is not, so she explains it the only way that she can. "'Tis jist a spot o' shit luck okay?" Then she snorts. "Dragon's don't talk aloud aye? Pretty good argument I'm not one…" Let the question of her being a rider remain.

Guard/bad guy/Ryker is pretty much the descriptor of this dude's life. "They say there are some that hear them." All, that is, not just the ones that determine an interest in passing poor sods and speak to them. But he leans back, at some random moment, evidently feeling it self-evident that Nan's not that cool. Sorry Nan.

"'N some o' them will talk t' anyone." Not-cool Naneska counters. "But usually 'tis in yer head, not LOUD like this." The loud is shouted so that the frolicking candidates further along all turn to see what the fuss is all about. "D'ye really disagree wit' everythin'?" Naneska just has to ask. And then folding her arms she repeats her previous question. "Ye never did tell me who put me up t' what." But she's not cool enough to deal with peer pressure right?

Ryker considers that question for a long moment - does he disagree with everything - and then with a rare smile replies back, simply, "No." Even ex-bad guy guard Rykers can have a sense of humor. Every once in a while. Once in a blue moon. Not for long, though. "Maybe the dragonriders put you up to it. Or leadership. It's a big clutch." And Ryker has a shitton of conspiracy theories.

Naneska saw that smile Mr! But she's discrete, it gets the same flickering sort of acknowledgement as the stripes on his back and then she brings her attention back to the banter. "Ever consider that wit' me cousin…" She stops to reconsider her words. It is something that she has been thinking of lately. Not that she is going to find any evidence for her suspicions. "… Leadership is up t' something." She agrees in a round about way. "I ain't got naught t' do wit' it however."

"Oh?" Ryker inquires, eyebrows lifting. "They're up to something, you say?" He doesn't quite make it sound patronizing — he was just implying something similar, after all — but there's definitely an edge of mansplaining-could-happen-soon to the straight line of his mouth.

Naneska narrows her hazel eyes at Ryker. "Oh. Aye." She agrees with sudden…agreeableness, nodding her head with unreasonable emphasis. "'There was a secret meetin' 'n all. Did ye miss it?" She flutters her lashes, because now seems like a good time to do so, before she drops the act. "More'n likely I'm gettin' a whiff of family business…" So nothing he needs to worry about, F'in probably agrees with Ryker on the subject of Naneska (She's a bit trouble).

"A secret meeting? I suppose I wasn't invited." Ryker's tolerance returns again, or reemerges by-way of patience. "Well. Enjoy your, eh, whiff. Miss." He's not going to go into his own strange history with F'in, doubtlessly Naneska has a MUCH larger body of strangeness to look back upon.

"Are ye askin' fer me hand in marriage?" Naneska burbles right on back, her mind making all those leaps from 'secret family meeting' to 'Ryker wants to come to the secret family meetings' in a lickety-split. "Cos it was family business." But she's teasing, her humor returning as he left the question of her Search curse unexplored. "Aye, I'm bein' scandalous, me knee's are showin'!" The HORRORS! "Ye should git goin' before I curse ye too." She wriggles her fingers friendly like, even as her eyes drift back to the candidate he should probably go join.

There's a short bark of laughter, unexpected, from Ryker's throat at the proposal question. He doesn't bother answering it. "I am." He's not going because she told him to, though. Just. In case anyone was wondering. He gives her one long look and then turns and goes up with militant press toward where he left his things, only the long line of his frame and the silver of his scars showing.

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