Rocio, Varden


Rocio is sneezing, but Varden is on hand with a hankie. Niamyth likes to snuffle the Weyrhealer.


It is midmorning of the tenth day of the second month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Upper Bowl, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 31 Jan 2018 00:00


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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.

Yesterday was a restday and today means it's back to the grind for Serval's newest wingriders. Rocio is dressed for PT and heading across the bowl when Niamyth swoops in from above to join her for some F-U-N. Yeah, they're gluttons for punishment — PT is something they enjoy doing together because they're good at it. Southern's tiny green snorts something like a sneeze and Rocio follows suit with a sneeze into the crook of her arm. "Dangit." she sniffles afterward. "I ain't gotta hankie. You gotta hankie?" That said to Niamyth. Apparently she doesn't because she's kicking up her heels into a fast trot toward the lower bowl. "THANKS A LOT, NIA." Sniffle.

Funny how paths cross sometimes. Varden is, quite coincidentally, coming from the direction of the lower bowl, when the far-off sneeze is heard; as he nears Rocio, it becomes evident the speedy, sniffling rider is the source. From a pocket comes a neatly folded, unused handkerchief, and as Varden slows, the better to intercept the rider, he offers the white square with a flourish. "Hopefully not a cold coming on, rider," he'll say with a flicker of amusement in his voice, even as his face is professionally neutral.

Niamyth skids a little to slow her gait when she passes by Southern's Weyrhealer (who happens to be en route toward her lifemate). Ever curious, the sassy green trots in a half circle to head back toward Rocio who is now accepting the offered handkerchief. "Thanks…" It's all she can say before sniffing then blowing her nose, the sound probably waking everyone and their mother. "Wha." she says, wiping underneath her nose and then shaking her head in response to the Healer. "Ain't a cold. It's allergies exacerbated by an old injury." A hand motions to the left side of her face. "Broke my cheekbone eons ago."

Varden has been around dragons long enough not to be bothered by curious ones. He'll give Niamyth a quick look, getting an idea of her size and nature, before his attenion is back on Rocio. Nose-blowing, too, isn't anything new to him, and he stands patiently as she does what she needs to do. "Ah, I see. I don't think I've had the pleasure. I'm Weyrhealer Varden." He would offer a hand to shake, but, well,s he has just been blowing her nose, so….

"Rocio, green Niamyth's." The introduction is followed by a toss of her chin toward the dainty green who is now snuffling at the ground all nonchalant-like. Nope. She's totally not eavesdropping on them. There's just a really interest patch of… rock. That's she's examining. Yeah. And since they're not shaking hands, the greenriding huntress surrenders the handkerchief back to the Healer without a second thought — she's not one to worry about germs (and no one ever said Ro was anything like a Lady Holder). "Well met! Hopefully you won't be seein' me in the infirmary anytime soon."

Having already had a look at Niamyth, Varden continues to look at Rocio. To his credit, he doesn't express any distaste at being given back the used handkerchief, but it does go into a pocket fairly swiftly. He'll deal with that later. There may be a subtle wipe of his hand on his trouser as it comes back to his side. "Well met, indeed. I do prefer people not to come to my infirmary - though I suppose it does keep me in a job." Dark healer humour! "Are you of Southern?"

"Yup! Well, kinda." Rocio says before folding her arms across her chest and rocking back on her heels very briefly. "I mean, I was born and mostly raised in Keroon." Hence the thick accent. "But, my family move t' Southern when I was sixteen and I Impressed Nia here." Fond memories! Clearing her throat just a tad, she considers the next part of her history — the darker bit, unfortunately. "Then I got my face broke, allergies got really bad, transferred to Igen for about two Turns, and now I'm back at Southern." He doesn't need to be bored to tears by every single detail, so that's the story in a nutshell. "How 'bout you? You a native?" Niamyth peeeeeers at Varden from over yonder ways.

Varden listens to this abbreviated life story with more interest than he would listen to a patient describing what's brought them to the infirmary. "Quite the adventure," is his comment. As to his own past, there's a small smile as he answers Rocio's question. "Fort Hold, actually. Can't say I miss the weather much. It's been quite a few Turns since I experienced a Northern winter." His slight emphasis on 'quite' implies it's been a long time, indeed. "How are you finding the change in scenery? Like coming home?"

Ah, Fort Hold! Niamyth twinkles around the edges of her shared mind space with Rocio and is promptly squished to the back of her rider's thoughts. It's too distracting to pay attention to both green and Healer, so Rocio opts for the Healer standing in front her. Sorry Nia. "It's better than I remember. I had t' transfer t' Igen for the drier climate, which was good 'cause my body was able t' heal. But, I gotta tell ya that I'm happy t' be back home." Southern certainly is home to the green pair. Niamyth ruffles her wings and makes her way over to Rocio, standing behind her and maybe extending her pointed snout to snuffle at Varden. "Will you stop?" A hand swats at Nia's muzzle, but she's not paying much attention to her bond. "Sorry, she ain't normally so nosey." Lies. "Why don't you go find Obhaeroth?" Niamyth rumbles her response and takes a step closer to Varden instead. "Nia…"

Varden has had only a few visits to Igen, but he's well aware of its particular climate. "So long as you avoid the sandstorms it's not so bad, hm?" He seems faintly pleased that Rocio is happy to be back at Southern. Niamyth seems happy about something, too - or maybe just curious. The Weyrhealer isn't fazed by the muzzle aimed his way, nor the step forward. He'll look up at Niamyth, matching her gaze so far as is possible with dragons and their faceted eyes. "She looks good. Nimble flier, I expect, given her size?" Varden somehow manages to sound ever so practical.

Niamyth's pointy nose snuffles about six inches away from the Weyrhealer's shirt and Rocio snags one of the green's headknobs, pulling her back like she would pull on someone's ear. "Stop. It." Varden's musky-minty scent is shared with Rocio through their mindscape and Niamyth's fireflies sparkle with iridescent colors. « Ro. You think he smells good? I think he smells good. Like woodsy stuff. » Even though Varden can't hear the one sided conversation happening at this very moment, he might notice the way Rocio's cheeks start the redden ever slightly. Still gripping the headknob, Rocio might laugh a little nervously and pinch Nia's green hide to emphasize the following, » SHUT UP, NIA. « She nods in agreement, sobering with a grin. "Yeah! She's more agile and speedy than most dragons. Her endurance is pretty good if we keep up with our PT, which we really outta be gettin' to." This announcement, of course, causes Niamyth to lift her head so Rocio can't hold onto her anymore, which has the greenrider b
rushing her hands together in victory. "You do any dragonhealin'?" Asking for a friend~

The sight should be enough to make one chuckle, or at least break into a smile - the little rider trying to pull her dragon's head back, chiding her all the while. And those red cheeks of Rocio's? /?Something's// going on that Varden isn't privy to. The man keeps his amusement totally on the down low, with only a small polite, slightly bemused, smile to show it. At least talking about a rider's dragon is a good topic to get onto. "They all have their place, don't they? Quite the beauty, too." He watches Niamyth's head lift, then answers Rocio's question with a slow nod. "Enough to do my job properly. You get to know dragons, treating their riders. Unavoidable, really. I wouldn't step on a gold rider's toes if she's involved, but I know enough." He's eyeing Niamyth's conformation with a professional eye, now she's close.

Niamyth warbles at Varden and then turns on a dime to spring across the bowl to where she needs to be. « He said I'm prettyyy! » Her voice fades from Rocio's mind and much comfort is taken in the fact that the green will no doubt forget what Varden said in about a candlemark. Dragon memories aren't the best, after all. Still, the greenrider straightens with a nod and pivots to make sure her lifemate didn't take an unexpected detour to see another crush of hers. A silent, inward groan follows that particular train of thought. "I hear ya about not steppin' on the goldriders' toes. We all wanna live t' see another day, right?" Snickering, Ro adjusts her headband and jerks a thumb where Niamyth tore off to. "I best be gettin' my hind end t' PT or Rielle will tack on a few extra laps around the bowl. It was good meetin' ya, Varden!"

Who wouldn't smile at Niamyth's springy exit? Not even Varden apparently, and that smile broadens as he watches the green. Even if he can't hear what she's saying, her body language is sweet. "That we do," he agrees with Rocio, and the greenrider will get a wink. "Of course; I've delayed you long enough. You and Niamyth take care." He, too, has places to be - and now they'll also involve dealing with that handkerchief in his pocket, so Varden will continue on his way.

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