Somehow — Faranth only knows — A'lira made a wrong turn back there somewhere, looking for a new place yo work out. Anything to get away from the unwashed masses that flock to the usual place to work one's muscles. Lookee here, though: a newerr, better place to go hard so he doesn't have to go home! Man sweat aside, he'll take it. Let the stretches and the pain begin!

The smell of sweat and general body funk is potent as lunchtime approaches and Parhelion's morning trainign session comes to a close. While the rest of the Wing have left, wandering past A'lira as he arrives, some giving the Sirocco rider odd looks, H'rik lingers. The man is giving one of the sand bags a good seeing too with rhythmic punches. The sweat that soaks his forehead and his vest imply he's been hard at work for a while, and certainly shows no sign of abating now, even as the sound of his blows echo in the empty room.

As well they might! It's not likely that Sirrocco riders end up working out with the Guard. However, a man needs a challenge sometimes. A'lira merely offfers greetings to those that notice him, and sets about doing what he's there for: serious PT. Ine of those ssnd bags is just begging for punishment from his fists, and as he wraps his hands up, he walks wiyh measured pace to it, near H'rik. The man gets a "Ey." of greeting, pitched to be heard but not disturb before the thing is set swinging in preparation for punches. Then it's peppered with jabs and uppercuts.

Someone coming in rather than leaving distracts H'rik, and it interrupts his rhythm enough that his next punch is met with the bag swinging back at him, and he pulls his fist back, giving it a little shake. "Hey, A'lira." He seems a little surprised to see his clutchmate here, but he's not going to tell him to buzz off - as far as H'rik's concerned, the brown rider's as much right to come exercise as anyone else. "How's stuff with you and Kyprioth?" He takes the break in his exercise to grab his towel and swab his face with it.

Good to know he's at least somewhat welcome! "We good. He smug as ever tho. Got me stuvk in Southern overnight a couple days ago." A'lira shrugs it off, stepping away from the bag to wipe away the sweat of his own labors. "And you'n Wendryth?"

"Oh yeah?" That's got H'rik's attention, and he shoots a bemused look over at his clutchmate. "Wendy's good. Still eyeing up the ladies. Though other day it was a human one who he wanted to help out." Although H'rik says it with exasperatino, it's a mocking version of the emotion, as the man's unable to keep half a smile off his face for his bronze's ways.

"Yeah. Went and caught a green." A'lira is a little bit sheepish about that, even though it does make him grin a little at the brown's smug complacency in the aftermath of getting his rider in an odd position in more ways than one. "Oh? What's Wendryth fone?" This oughta be good! He's gonna need a drink for this.

H'rik is patting the towel over his shoulders and bare arms now, to get rid of the worst of the sweat before he heads off for a proper wash. "Oh yeah?" He grins, too, at A'lira's attitude towards Kyprioth's success. "Well done t'him! That's his first, right?" Wendryth's count still stands at a round zero, but H'rik isn't bitter. "Heh," he says next, feeling rather like he's hyped up his dragon's escapades a bit too much. "Chased a feline off that was scaring a girl's runnerbeast. Maybe I should've had him catch it - feline furs are nice for the winter."

A'lira chuckles in wry amusement. "S'ppose it is good on him. Coulda warned me tho." Oh, Al will learn soon enough his dragon's tics where lady dragons are concerned. "That was his first, yesh." Mm, towel. Tasty, especially when you have it hanging outta the moth like A'lira does. Since he's run a mighty lomg time, he's gonna go light on his usual workout — last thing he needs is to amass more muscle still. "Oh yah, keep meaning t'trade for a white and gray one. But good on him for bein' willin' to chase one off."

The used towel gets flicked towards the bucket that someone will no doubt take to the laundry at some point - the pile in there probably isn't helping with the smell, but there you are. "He dragged you all the way to Southern to chase a green?" H'rik asks, laughing a little as he says it as he imagines poor A'lira being at the mercy of his dragon's whims. "It was only a little one." He was about to move to get his jacket, feeling cooler now he's stopped working out, but pauses, thoughtful. "Too small to be a good fur, actually. Hm. Maybe we should go hunting some time, when we've both got rest days? Get some proper adult felines?"

"Naw, I went to pick up some medicine and stuff, and Kyp wanted to go play in the sea. Some green got his attention cause she wanted to play." There's an eyeroll, there. " And glowin' fit to light the dark." A'lira should have known Kyprioth couldn't have resisted that. "Don't think he's gonna go as far as chadin' every green thing that flies, thank Faranth." Ah youth. And then he perks right up at the idea of going hunting them down. "Yeah… yeah let's do that." The idea brightwns A'lira right up; it's been Turns since he last hunted for pleasure.

H'rik's laugh is more of a snort, now. "We wouldn't get anything done if they were like that," he observes, keeping his amusement as low as he dares - but his bright eyes and the twitch in his lips betrays just how funny he finds the idea. The smile comes properly as A'lira seems keen on hunting. "You ever been before at all? I haven't, but it seems like it'd be easier with a dragon." Is he underestimating it? Maybe.

"Barely gettin' shit done as it is." A'lira admits, rubbing off his arms and cooling down slowly. "Kyp's after me t'go see the Zingari more, like I got time to go see 'em much as I want to." He looks over at H'rik, then, squinting thoughtfully. Now he mentions it… they're going to have to look into that, aren't they. "Mmm… shouldn't be, long's we careful not to run afoul of a whole damn pack of 'em."

H'rik looks curious at this desire of Kyprioth's. "Funny dragon, yours is." It's said affectionately though - after all, they spent enough time together during weyrlinghood for H'rik to get to know the almost canine-like brown better. He tugs on his jacket, and pulls a scarf from an inside pocket. "Well - two big dragons, shouldn't be a problem, right?" Now he really is pushing the limits of what seems feasible, and he knows it, grinning at A'lira as he starts winding his scarf round his neck.

"That he is." A'lira agrees softly, then laughs. "He know I got a couple friends there, so he wants me to go see 'em and 'play'." Smirk. A'lira's gotten used to the dragon's focus on play and being out in the open, enjoying the wildness of life. Fortunately, A'lira agrees with him; work is work, but always indulge the hedonist is his number one rule. "Yeah, that's true." A'lira says of their dragons, and tilts his head. "That and I got enough healer trainin' to keepus outta the worst trouble. We gotta arrange this." He nods to H'rik. While the bronzerider's ready to leave, A'lira is quite ready to go another round with that sand bag. He hasn't yet tired himself out today.

"We do," H'rik promises, sincerity in his face as much in his words. Pulling the collar of his jacket up in preparation to head out into the winter's chill, he adds, "just let me know when your next restday is - I'll see what I can do my side." With a final grin, he heads out into the bazaar, a whirl of cold air entering the training room as the door swings behind him.