R'ik, Myziri


Myziri chances upon R'ik in the bowl and gives him the results of her conversation with Sashlyn.


It is about midmorning of the thirteenth day of the third month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass. It is the thirteenth day of Autumn and 63 degrees. Overcast, the autumn rain has picked up and become heavier, albeit still pleasant.


Upper Bowl, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 22 Feb 2016 08:00


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"What's that they say 'bout shooting the messenger?"


Upper Bowl

The graceful sweep of spacious bowl lies scoured clean by an easterly breeze. Detritus is whisked neat to the eastern steppe of the bowl that lies several feet lower than the western plateau. White walls contrast the rough granite of the rivercliffs: the giant maw of the Hatching Cavern lies in the thickest part of the western wall, sheltering the training grounds and weyrling barracks lying nor'west. Directly north lies the leadership courtyard, heavily humid and subtly scented by intrigue.

Mid-morning, Autumn brings with it skies dark and pregnant with cloud. In the upper bowl, Jaguar have just been dismissed after rigorous airborne drills with live flame. "You've got two hours, to clean up and eat, then I want you all reassembled to meet Thread over Rock Hill cothold." The brownriding Weyrsecond bellows calling an end to the debriefing. Men and the few women that fly for the Weyrleader's wing break apart and start to go their separate ways. Among them is R'ik who makes his way back over to where Hrykeluth prowls back and forth, keen to have his straps removed so that he can go slake his thirst at the lake. With gloves tucked into his back pocket, goggles dangling round his neck and helmet tucked under his elbow, he's an ashy mess of black soot coating black leather. And yet, there's a deep sense of calm about the raven-haired bronzerider.

There may be threadfall in the near future, but that's not worrying Myziri at all. She's been up for hours, with PT, drills, and breakfast already in the past. Sahizath is getting in a little nap in the dryness of their weyr while her lifemate takes care of some necessary errands by foot; her current errand requires crossing the bowl from the direction of the living caverns and, in doing so, she crosses paths with a certain firestone-sooted bronzerider. It's not actually on purpose, but it's convenient because now she doesn't have to seek him out "R'ik! Wait up!" She quickens her pace, but is hampered a bit by the fact that she's trying to walk and feed a tiny flying gut all at the same time "Oh, stop that! I'm stuffing you as fast as I can." She tells the demanding thing even as she trots toward R'ik.

Having reached his dragon and being in the process of unfastening the front of his jacket, R'ik turns at the call of his name and narrows a look in the direction it had come from. Spotting Myziri, pale eyes hold to the greenrider for a moment, flick to the flit she's feeding and then he turns away and scales his dragon's side to begin relieving him of strapping. "Feeding that thing pie?" He asks tugging at a tongue of leather to free a buckle.

"Of course I'm not feeding it pie. You don't feed pie to babies." Even firelizard babies. Myziri rolls her eyes at the foolish comment. "It's meat." Small little chunks of raw meat. She holds out another piece, which is quickly snapped up and gulped down. "It's like Sahizath all over again. All it does is eat and sleep. Should have left the thing in the sand where I found it." She shakes her head at her folly, then smiles at the bronze being divested of straps. "Good morning, Hrykeluth." But, she had a reason for coming over that didn't include flying stomachs and R'ik is busy, so she'll get to the point. "I've been meaning to catch up with you. About the thing. With Sashlyn."

From R'ik there is simply a snort for at best he merely tolerates his own and that only because its presence in his life had been insisted upon after he and his blonde counterpart had gone missing for several days pre-weyrlinghood and had been presumed dead. Buckles loosened, neck straps fall away and the bronzerider drops down to the ground to begin collecting them up into a loose coil. As for Hrykeluth, the bronze offers a short whuff of greeting and lifts a hindleg to scratch at an itch along his side. Initially, R'ik says nothing. In fact, given the length of silence that plays out it could be assumed he hadn't heard Myziri. But then, he finally looks at her, his face streaked with soot so that his eyes are all the more startling against his coloring. "Yeah, and?"

Aello shrieks with hunger, nipping at Myziri's fingers since she's not stuffing her fast enough. "Ouch! Here, you porcine. Hope you choke on it." She shoves several pieces in the firelizard's gullet to distract it, sending a grimace R'ik's way "Okay, not so much like Sahizath. She never tried to eat my fingers. Anyway." She shifts on her feet, sighs. "So, I don't have it. The thing. But, there is definitely a thing, and Sashlyn wants to give it to you. But she wouldn't give it to me to give to you. So, you're going to have to meet with her. She was pretty adamant about it."

Hrykeluth eyes the tiny creature in much the same fashion an adult Wolf might do a miniature Yorkshire terrier - with studied patience. "Just grab a bowl and throw its meat in there," R'ik advises dropping the straps to the ground and thumping his dragon on the shoulder. "It'll save your fingers." After a throaty rumble and a nudge of muzzle to his rider's back, the bronze ambles off in the direction of the lake with his head down and weaving side to side suggesting he might be following a scent. Within the dark frame of stubble, lips purse and brows gather in a brief show of irritation. "She say what it is?"

Myziri has a bowl, but the damned thing's too tiny yet to leave her to it "She just hatched yesterday. We're still in the bonding stage." Hence putting her fingers in jeopardy. She watches Hrykeluth amble off briefly, likely in order to avoid that hint of irritation. "She didn't say exactly what it was. She did say it was an family heirloom. And…" Here she hesitates a moment. "She's not looking to make trouble for you, R'ik. She just wants you to be happy." Or so Sashlyn said.

Lips quirk. It could be a smile. It could also be a grimace. Hard to tell since there's no other hitch of expression involved. That is until Myziri answers him. Then R'ik's setting her with a narrowed look for the bit about a family heirloom. As is his way, the bronzerider is quiet for a while and then, exhaling a sigh he palms a hand down his face, smearing soot and sweat so that he looks like some kind of GI Joe commando. "I know she isn't. She's lost more than I've gained." Attention drops to his boot beneath which he's rolling a pebble. "Just takes some getting used to, you know?" Finding out that you have the female version of Lazarus for a sibling.

"She said she was dead." Myziri blurts out on the heels of R'ik's admission. "Your sister, the one you knew. She said she was reborn when Meliadryth impressed her." Myziri nibbles her lip, stuffs more food at her firelizard, and watches the bronzerider. "I can't even imagine what it's like." She says finally "To lose someone like that, only to have them come back out of the blue. I can understand how it would throw you. But…surely there are parts of your sister left, that you might want to discover again. So you should talk to her, at least. I don't think she's gonna bite." At least not him; Myziri, on the other hand…."Anyway. That's all I could get. I guess the rest is up to you." She studies him. "You and me…we good?"

Thumb hooked in belt loops, raven brows shove toward one another and R'ik glances off to the left. When eventually his gaze returns, there's something akin to regret laced through it. "Least she came back." Sort of. "What she lost…" There's a saddened shake of head and then a switch of subject. "I'm kinda busy this seven." He's hedging and he knows it. But hey, at least he's not ranting and raving. That's progress, right? Catching that look coming at him from Myziri, R'ik utters a quiet, "Heh," before adding, "What's that they say 'bout shooting the messenger?" Dry humour there.

"She explained that, you know." Myziri smiles hesitantly "She may have been gone for six Turns, but she sure knows you. She said she had to use the blunt object approach because it's what you respond to. So….yeah. Don't shoot the messenger." She mulls it over "Still sorry for lying to you, though." The little golden belly has finally filled itself full; with a little belch it curls up in the crook of her arm and she rolls her eyes "Finally. I can take her back to the Weyr and not have to worry about her during threadfall now. I should let you…." she uses her other hand to gesture "Get ready." Clean up just to get dirty again? "Just wanted to let you know about how it played out." She makes to go, but again hestitates "R'ik…don't let it wait too long, yeah? Family's important." Something Myziri realized fairly recently when she reunited with her own. "Anyway…see you around. Fly safe today."

"She knows me about as much as I know her." R'ik returns a little sharper than is necessary. Call it a kneejerk response. Stooping he takes up the straps and hefting them over a shoulder hikes a brow at Myziri for her familial advice. "This from the girlie that ran away from home because she was loved too much." So is his understanding of her reasons for having left home. The bronzerider turns and starts to leave then pauses and shoots a look over his shoulder. "Sorry she put you in the middle of our shit." A lift of hand meant to match her departing good wishes for the upcoming Fall and he turns around and continues on his way toward the leadership courtyard.

"I had no problem with the love, R'ik." Myziri says, frowning "I had a problem with feeling like I only had one path to go down. I imagine if you had been in my shoes, you'd have felt the same as I. I never stopped loving them." But, they aren't discussing her family. As he gathers up his things, she moves to head off in her own direction with a backward wave "Yeah. Get it all worked out, so it doesn't happen again." She even adds one of her impish Myziri grins as she says that, before carefully (so as not to wake the belly) making her way across the bowl.

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