Who

Ebben, Kultir

What

Ebben gets between a rock and a wet place. Kultir comes, unbeknownst to him, to the rescue.

When

It is a humid mid-day.

Where

The Cove

OOC Date

 

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Cove

A saber's curl along the coast of the Azov Sea, the cove is a clash of green and black; where deeply forested jungles encroach upon the curving expanse of this tiny cove, found only past the rocky barrier that serves sa demarcation between cove and beach. Lacking the softly ground sand of the beach, the cove is made up of dark, volcanic pebbles, making it trickier to navigate than the beach itself. Yet, what a surprise is given if one braves the less comfortable path that curves around a long-forgotten cinder cone to find the quiet tranquility of seclusion. Brilliant against the black pebbled beach, greenery is only enhanced by the purest of turquoise waters, warmed by a deep volcanic vent and churned by hidden currents that further feeds into the relative calm of the sea itself. The rainbow fish and yellowish is plentiful beneath the waves.


Ebben is perched on one of the larger rocks amidst the spray of shimmering volcanic stone. The heat is thick, pushing down on the coastline like a big, humid paw. The healer is currently leaning over the edge of the algae-slicked boulder, his hands outstretched as he seems to be reaching for something. One foot is oextended, waving slightly about for balance as another is wedged firmly between two rocks, giving him purchase. Whatever the object of desire is, it is well hidden in the small hollow Ebben's hands are currently sloshing around in.

Strolling down the beach, head down and searching the damp sand that is washed over by the waves coming in from the inland sea, is Kultir. A finely woven net bag is about half full and bouncing at his right hip and a long dagger is in his right hand. Occasionally, he crouches and digs into the moist sand before standing and tucking something into that bag with a clacking sound. Glancing up, his gaze searches the beach and notes the presence of someone perching on one of the large rocks. Reaching easy conversation distance, he peers at the slightly contorted position the man is in and frowns slightly. "Did you drop something?"

Ebben starts and pulls upward, a sheet of droplets springing from his fingers as he does so. There's an awkward moment, wherein the healer scrambles to gain purchase before he can sit with some stability on the rock's top. "Oh, hey, hi, hello." Him? Drop something? Of course he wouldn't ever…"my knot fell off. It fell off. How does something like that fall off?! It couldn't, I mean, how…" the usual cool-as-a-sea-slug-Ebben is not so cool. He is hot. And bothered. And sweaty. Intensely sweaty. And clearly confused. "My hands are too big to fit in the little notch it's stuck in… underwater." Panic? Yes, clear notes of panic stain his voice as he hunkers down by the rock and motions Kultir over. "My master is going to kill me if I can't get this out of there. Here, let me see your hands." Because maybe they're tiny, and spry, and you wouldn't leave a healer out to dry, right?

Hearing the panic in the man's voice, Kultir can't help but chuckle when he hears that it's the other's knot that fell off and wedged itself into a nook in the underwater pocket. He offers his hands, large and rough and scarred from the hard, rough work he does, but shrugs. "They aren't that small but I'm used to getting them into small crannies when I'm trying to pry things out of where they live. Let me give it a try." Peering into the opening, he nods when he sees it shouldn't be more than shoulder deep and he can just see the end of one side of the knot waving in the gentle current within that pool.

Ebben leans over the boulder again, this time watching with clear agitation as the other man moves towards the underwater notch. "At this point, I don't care if it gets a little torn, as long as you can get it out, I'll be happy." Apparently Ebben has been at this for a bit, with no success, at least in obtaining his knot without shredding it. "It has to be caught on something or the water would have pushed it out by now, don't you think?" The well-muscled youth clings to the rock as he shifts his body weight forward, nearly upside down with the effort to peer into the dark tidal pool.

Kultir grins at the young man and shakes his head as he leans over the hole, his arm reaching down to where he can just see the knot waving gently in the current. "Well, it depends on if the current is getting sucked out where it's stuck or if it's flowing in." Deft fingers curl and scrape at the edges of where the knot is trapped, his fingers just brushing the knot before he finally gets a bit of it caught between thumb and forefinger. Giving a gentle tug, he nods slightly before giving it a stronger tug before it comes free. "Ahh, there you go." He pulls back from that rock and offers the dripping, slightly shredded knot to the younger man. "Healer, huh? Well, now your master won't kill you for losing your knot." He is without his own knot right now, he never knows what will happen when he's diving which he was earlier which also explains his damp, shortpants and sleeveless tunic.

Ebben holds out his palm as Kultir drops the sodden, limp, scraggly knot into it. Ebben gives a little sigh, nudging some of the frayed bits with a finger as he affixes it back onto his shirt. The effect is comedic: the shirt immediately dampening where the knot is attached and one severed cord dangling impotently in the breeze. "Thanks, I'm certain I've seen you around but I'm not sure I know your name?" Light eyes travel to the bag Kultir is carrying with some interest. "Are you harvesting?"

Kultir grins as the younger man affixes his knot back into place and nods. "Yeah, you're welcome." He leans against the large boulder surrounding that pool and nods again. "Yeah, I'm sure you have seen me around … probably early morning and later evening since I'm usually out of the Weyr any other time. Name's Kultir." Seeing where the other is looking, he chuckles. "Yeah, figured I'd take advantage of the tide to find some sand muscles. I got a couple bags of reef muscles earlier but these are sweeter." Reaching into the bag, he pulls one of the knobby shelled creatures out and holds it up as he pulls his dagger from its sheath. "Care to try one?"

Ebben is so wanting to try one, and as he reaches for the glistening bit of knobby sea life—"Ebben!" It's a short, staccato request and the apprentice pauses in his search for sea succulence. "Damn, hey Kultir? Thanks for getting me out of that jam. I owe you one." He'd give the guy a beer but apprentice hood forbids the drinking, so… "if you're ever in the Kitten, tell Sevrini I vouch for you and to get you a free drink on my tab." Yeah, it's… complicated. And he's off!

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