Who

Myziri, Keelie

What

Myziri is sorting shells, happens that Keelie's collecting them as well. The two friends meet and update each other on their lives.

When

It is afternoon of the twenty-eighth day of the second month of the ninth turn of the 12th pass. It is the fifty-eighth day of Summer and 108 degrees. It is sunny and bright. The skies are clear.

Where

Beach, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 14 Oct 2016 07:00

 

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"Good to be happy, even if it's fleeting."


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Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.


It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day…wait. That's the wrong show. This is BAYWATCH, Pern style. No, that's wrong too, since Myz a) is not running on the beach, but sitting on it and b) she's got no rack to bounce around. But there is a beach involved, and a nice sunny day, and she is wearing a bathing outfit and looks as if she's been in the water recently, judging by the way her sable locks are drying like stiff seaweed across her bare back. But now, she's on a towel with a pile of shells in front of her, which she is picking through with the exacting expertise of a shell afficianado; only one in three or four makes the cut, and the rest get chucked off to the side, where they will lie forgotten until being washed out with the tide later.

BAYWATCH, huh? Hmm! Not quite! Keelie's bright red hair can be seen down the beach, the long locks whipping and catching on the seawind, her head and shoulders bent as she checks the shore for seashells. It's a thing for these two. She wears a white dress that's basically lace over what can be assumed is a yellow bikini, judging by the tie behind her neck. She's off in her own world, not recognizing Myziri at first until she's almost upon her. "Hey Myz," she greets at last with a grin, crouching down to check a few of the shells that made the grade. Mmm. "That blue one is pretty." Bare toes dig into the sand, uncovering a white coil shell, which she has to inspect, leaning to clean it off in the surf, smoothing off the sand with her thumb.

"Hey, Keelie. You can have it if you like." Myziri barely looks up from what she's doing, which is inspecting a shell that has shades from pale to dark brown, seawater-roughened fingers running over it to check for any chips. "I'm only looking for these colors today." She indicatse the 'good' pile, which is full of a color range from the selfsame browns to oranges, a few pinkish reds in the mix. And now that Keelie's closer she can see there are actually three piles - the ones Myz is keeping, those rejected by color, and those rejected due to damage; the one pile had been hidden by her knee. "Pull up some towel. Looks like you and I are on the same quest, any road. What're you making?"

Keelie tucks the white one away into her netted bag and lifts the blue shell to inspect on her palm. Yup. Very pretty. It's a clamshell with a bit of turquoise around the edges. "Just collecting for now," she replies, placing that one in a special smaller pouch tied to the larger bag on her arm. "Thank you! I really love the blue ones. And brown ones…" She eyes the piles her greenrider friend is making. "What are you making?" A pause where she glances over Myziri's face and smiles. "And… how are you?" She has no qualms about sharing the towel, already at work shifting through the main pile, looking for defectives, help needed or not.

"Windchime." Myziri says - hence her pile of like colors. "For a friend." She grins then, sliding a glance at the brownrider "But not you, even if the colors match. Unless you want one? I never have made you a shipwarming gift, have I? Or a weyrmating one?" She indicates the pile of chipped shells, all jumbled colors; pinks and blues and greens and such "I thought I might try my hand at a mural for Zariel. Polish those up and cut them to fit. Though I'm no artist." She doesn't have R'ik's talent, for sure. "But I could use that pile to make you a windchime." She indicates the discarded blues, with some greens and pinks as well. "If you don't steal em all." Myziri adds, after a moment of reflection "I'm good. Healthy as a horse. No firehead for this girl." And considering she was swapping spit with D'ean at his most contagious, damned surprising. "Rough 'fall the other day, yeah? Poor Liger." Sucks to be that wing, but better Liger than Lynx, right?

"A friend…" Keelie slides her gaze to meet Myziri's and matches her grin. "Who?" She eyes the other woman expectantly, a bit teasing, before turning her attention back to the shells at hand. That one won't do! It's set aside. "I - well, if you would like to. I will never turn down seashells. Or something made by you." She might be already plotting where it might go - like hanging just outside the ledge. Would that bother the dragons? "Aw, for Zariel? I am sure she would love it." And Rielle too, obvs. "You will get better with practice," she says. She crinkles her nose at the idea of her stealing all the shells. She was just looking at that pink one to make sure it doesn't have holes. "Good." She is relieved her friend doesn't have firehead. Aw, why mention of D'ean in the meta! Keelie needs to know things. Her face falls at mention of Liger and she nudges away another shell. "I wish there was a way so that no one got hurt." Yes, at least it wasn't Lynx! Or Serval, or Catmint. "Did you hear T'zaim is in the infirmary? A'idan is just getting out. I thought about going to help with the weyrlings, but the wings are kind of thin as it is for fall."

"Yeah. A friend." And then Myziri employs some of that newly found reticence and doesn't continue. Keelie will have to pull it out, likely, if it comes out at all. But there are clues to be found if she looks hard enough. Ahem. She sets the shell she'd been inspecting in the 'keep' pile, picks up another one to inspect minutely, this one in varying shades of orange to almost bronze. "First, though, I have to decide what the mural will be off. It won't be very big. I don't think I have the patience. So I was thinking maybe Obhaeroth in miniature, or something simpler, like some flowers or something. It would probably help if I had someone sketch it for me first. I'm a horrible drawer. Than I can just..you know, kind of fill it in?" She sighs then, her smile fading "Yeah. I feel for them. That was Lynx, just a few weeks ago. She still feels guilt over Bianti, having allowed the girl to fly that 'fall being so new to the wing. "But, it's the nature of the thing, y'know? Even if it sucks ass." A LOT. "I have a good cry, get drunk, and let it go. If I didn't, I'd be a mess." She blinks then "T'zaim's got firehead now? Well, shit. But good that A'idan's back on his feet. He and D'ean were pretty sick for a while. But we're lighter on weyrlings at the moment, so being in the wing is likely the better place for you." There. Mention of D'ean NOT in meta. Have at.

"I was sorry about Bianti," Keelie adds, quietly. So many losses, they feel unending sometimes. The ones that were her weyrlings hit particularly hard. "Are you… doing ok?" Not an easy thing, she knows, losing wingriders. She sees how it affects M'noq too. As dragonriders, they face death so often, but to feel responsible, that is the worst. She feels for Myz. "It does suck ass." Keelie always sounds weird when she swears, like she's tasting the words for the first time. She smiles slightly. "I am sure whatever you draw will be fine." Says another girl who can't draw worth beans. She looks like she might press on the friend question, lips parting, eyes squinting… and then she focuses her attention on those shells. "He does." Thoughtful. "I hope he is alright. Yes, D'ean too. He was one of my weyrlings." Hmm. She wets her lips. "You are seeming a bit… different. Less tense than usual." Despite the depressing topics of conversation.

"Yeah. That was my fault. I shouldn't have had her on the roster. But we were short-handed and.." Myziri shrugs. Hindsight's a bitch. "It was because she was so young it hit hard, y'know? But…well, I had someone help me through the worst of it." She smiles a bit, as if remembering how that person did it and that it was good. She can't help but laugh at the positive reinforcement though "Wasn't it you who said my diagram in the sand looked nothing like what I was trying to draw? Or was that someone else? Regardless. I cannot DRAW. Keelie. End of story. But I've got some ideas of where to find someone who can." She puts the orange shell carefully on the pile, then picks up another. It's blue, but she still gives it the same attention. She pauses, however, to give the brownrider an inquiring look "Oh? I usually look tense to you? Huh. Imagine that." She shrugs "I'm learning to deal better, I guess. That's all." Uhuh. Evasion, anyone? "D'ean's a good guy. We've been hanging out a bit. Met his sister the other day too. Francis. I like her as well. Weird, how they got searched and impressed together, huh?" And diversionary tactic, go!

Keelie frowns when Myziri says it was her fault, but doesn't press - just looks a bit sad. "I am glad you had someone." Everyone should have someone. She tries to be there for M'noq as much as she can. The smile is reassuring tho. "I do not know! That does sound like me." She chuckles, dusting some of the seashell sand off of her fingers. "Usually." Keelie deadpans, then grins. The grin goes a bit sly. SHE KNOWS THAT EVASION LOOK MYIRI. Should she press tho? Keelie bites her lip, suddenly engrossed in sorting shells. A piece of teal seaglass got mixed in somehow. It gets its own new pile. "D'ean?" She turns her head to peer at the other woman, peach lips tilted in a little smile. "Yes. I like them too." Even if she had to be an extra-stern AWLM with one of them during their weyrlinghood! "Very interesting." She appears to be playing along. Then: "You have been hanging out with D'ean?"

"M'noq's my rock. Best wingsecond ever." Myziri says, then flashes her friend a grin "Don't tell him I said that, though. Swelled head and all. But glad he had you to help him through it. I know each death hits him as hard as it hits me." Then she folds up the sad talk and puts it away, because it's hard to be depressed when the sun is shining and she's got shells to sort. She holds up a lovely cream one, with just the faintest hints of orange. "Oh, this one is lovely…." she says, then nods casually. "Sure. He's a fun guy. Amusing, really. Kind of like a puppy that does annoying things that are so cute you just can't scold it, and you can't tell it to leave because, well, it's too damned amusing." And it tries to take over one's weyr, too. "So he's good to hang out with, now that J'ran's not around. I miss J'ran." Who has been on loan to another Weyr for what seems forever, alas. "Anyway. I've been hanging out with him. He makes me laugh. And he's bored to tears, what with being grounded and all."

Keelie smiles at mention of M'noq. "He is my rock too," she says. "Or maybe I am his - I am not sure." Have they moved on from trees to rocks now? Is that what happens when you get older and more earth-worn? She just smiles through the rest of it, proudly, not commenting, before shuffling a bit closer to Myziri. If she will allow, she places her head on her shoulder briefly and wraps her slender arms around her friend for a moment. "I am glad you have each other. You are a great pair. But I do miss you too. Some days, I wish we were in the same wing." The moment passes, and she goes back to sorting. "You think D'ean is like a puppy?" She chuckles and thinks about that a moment. Maybe that works. "I am sorry about J'ran. So… you are hanging out." Pause. "With D'ean." She tosses a pretty peach shell at Myziri's lap. Smiles cheekily.

Myziri isn't touchy feely, but she knows Keelie is, so she does endure the hug. She even pats the brownrider's back "Yeah, I know. We don't see each other so much." She agrees. "But, you've got Rielle at least. And M'noq keeps you pretty busy, right?" She sends a sly smile her friend's way "You spend a lot of time locked up in that shipweyr together, is all I'm saying." Not that she knows this per se, but hey! Keelie's fun to tease. "Sometimes M'noq looks pretty worn out before PT in the mornings.." she adds, then laughs "Well, puppy may be a bit much. He's just so easygoing. I can be a complete bitch and he still smiles at me. Gotta count for something, right? He's not- " But she cuts that off, and shrugs "He's just good company, is all." This with a bit of a scowl for Keelie's persistence. "And yeah. Hanging out. As in, conversing." So some of it's without words. It's still conversation. Of sorts. She tosses a broken bit of blue shell back at the brownrider. "Don't be making anything of it."

Keelie looks over at Myziri, keeping her lips closed, although tilted. Whatever goes on inside that ship weyr is staying there! Oh, the complications of dragonriding and ranks. Things are so much simpler in the jungle. She has a smirk for that tease, and her eyebrows raise ever-so-innocently. "Bitch?" Keelie laughs, tasting the word like something delicious. She frown-pouts right back at her scowl, then laughs again as the broken bit of shell is launched her way. "I promised I would not interfere," after that whole craziness with R'ik, "So I will not." And she's solemn. But not before tossing that bit of broken blue shell back with an impish expression. "I just like to see you happy. That is all that matters to me." Happy and healthy.

"Yeah. Or a pain in the ass, as R'ik likes to call it." Though he hasn't done so of late. Myziri laughs "Although I've been promoted to 'scrapper,' of late." This added in wry tones - she's still not sure how she feels about that. "But thanks. You did promise, and you haven't that I know of. So. D'ean and I are friends with benefits." Because sometimes you've gotta give second chances, right? And trust your friends. But she does give Keelie a squinty eyed look of death "But that's not common knowledge. It's just sex, okay? Don't make a big thing of it." But at least now she has the real reason for Myz's relaxation. "Neither of us is looking for anything else." Again, a wry twist of her lips "We're too broken." For one reason or another. "But I'm happy. As happy as I'll ever be, at least." Her mother and father obviously were intuitive folk, naming her. "I like to see you happy too. Seems M'noq's doing the job up right."

"That sounds like a form of endearment," Keelie says of R'ik's nickname of her. "Maybe I will be the bitch then," Keelie muses. "Since you are the scrapper." She grins. Her features relax and she nods as Myziri goes on to explain her relationship with D'ean. "Ok," She says simply, smirking slightly at that look of death. Firmly: "I will not tell anyone. You are a wingleader, and he was one of my weyrlings." As in, she knows how these things work. She is no longer the wild girl shouting truths from the treetops and being naive. Mostly. "I am sorry you are broken. Maybe you can… fix each other a little?" Was that too much? Lips twist in a slight teasing smile. And… cue a smirk! She has no words for that. Except, once the moment for throwing a seashell has passed: "I am happy too."

"Good to be happy, even if it's fleeting." Myziri notes. Mainly because the next time someone in Lynx dies she'll not be happy again for a while. She looks at her pile of perfect shells and decides she has enough, turns to rummage in the sack sitting on the corner of her towel. She pulls out a flat board, A very sharp, thin awl, a mallet, a spool of sturdy white thread, three stiffened leather rings, and a long, narrow wooden tube, hollowed out and polished thin. "Okay. I think I'm ready to put this thing together." She starts by taking one of the shells and laying it on the board. then very carefully she puts the sharp awl against the top and very gently begins tapping. It's slow work, because too hard a blow can crack the shell, but eventually a small hole appears in the top of the shell. She twists the awl into it a few times to smooth the edges, and now it's on to the next. "So you must be immune to firehead as I am, huh? I'm pretty sure if I were going to get it, I'd have done so by now. To be honest, I'm grateful. I can't afford to be down that long, y'know?" And that's the sort of innocuous talk that will commence for the rest of the conversation, most like, as they discuss this and that and everything while playing with their pretty shells, for now without a care in the world, until eventually they part ways, each to their own separate lives, but with the happy knowledge that it's a fine thing to have good friends.

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