Finn, Linny, Onari


Linny comes for a state visit the to Reika Caravan. Hijinks ensue.


It is evening of the fourth day of the ninth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Igen Weyr, Reika Encampment

OOC Date


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Caravan Grounds

Deep grooves in the hard packed earth criss-cross a large patch of denuded ground, bearing mute testament to the caravans that frequent this area. Despite the midden holes set back a ways from the main center of traffic, the air is sweet, redolent with the sagebrush that forms a loose perimeter around the flattened expanse. In what is as close to its center as the vague boundaries suggest, a stone ringed fire pit has been dug and surrounded with the odd log or two, ash overflowing from its darkly blackened core.

It is the fourth day of Autumn and 69 degrees. Overnight, the temperatures plummet to a reasonable heat. Sand coats everything.

It's golden hour. The sun is dipping down as cool evening breezes rise bringing a brisk bite to the air welcome after months of punishing heat. The wagons of the Reika encampment are painted in golden light lending a luminous quality to their otherwise plain solidity. Soon sunset will be upon the camp and on its heels, the night: cookfires and songs called and carried between the wagons. Evening finds Finn at his small forge hammering away, strokes ringing out over the sounds of the Reika winding down the work of the day. Animals whicker or bay or grunt blending with the voices of men and women talking, arguing, talking, singing, arguing. The murmurous clamor of camp drawing into itself at the end of a long day started before sun's rise. The forge is a small affair, an anvil, the forge itself, set into stone stack, a bellows, barrels of quenching medium and two wide work tables. All but the stacked stone of the forge are constucted to fold away into something that resembles nothing more than a wheeled wardrobe. Finn moves smoothly from hammering to the bellows to hammering, back and forth as needed, whistling to his little gold flit who whistles back.

Amongst the crowd is a particular goldrider, doing a mixture of laughing, schmoozing, talking business, and shaking hands, but she remains easily hidden because of her height. It isn't until one member of the group circling her moves to point her towards Finn's area that she can be seen, but even then, it's just for a flash of a moment before people envelop her again. More laughs and handshakes follow, and then Linny is sauntering over toward the man, flicking hair back over her shoulders. Finally, upon arrival, she can't help but to smirk, even as she attempts to remain official and sounding serious. "Excuse me, sir. Hello, I'm Linny, visiting junior weyrwoman, in charge of diplomatic relations for the Weyr. I just wanted to come and introduce myself, and let you know that if there's anything I or the Weyr can do for you, please feel free to let me know." Which certainly explains why she's currently there, but as far as why she's saying such things to Finn, who obviously already knows her, well, she's just being a smartass.

There's a hiss as Finn lowers a darkly red length of half-forged bladed into a barrel of water that boils instantly, roaring as the water sublimates. Snicker snacking the tongs together -clackclack- he watches the barrel for a moment before nodding decisively. Work is done. The little flit trills and fans her wings before hopping along the worktable and winging off to perch atop his wagon with a fair that have claimed his roof for their endless rounds of Holder on the Hill. He hangs the tongs on a peg. Apron, peg. Gloves, worktable. He takes a deep breath and rolls his head back and forth on his neck. Shoulders rolled. Back tensed, eased, tensed, eased. He crouches, vanishing from sight, but for the top of his head, bobbing into sight as he stretches. At that voice, however polite and politic, he pops up, calling, "Linny!" before, with a planted hand, springing over his worktable to land a pace away from Linny, the momentum of his hop carrying him to her on a collision course narrowly averted. He pivots at the last moment, snaring her hand as he hustles past, craning his head quickly this way and that as he hauls her along with him to the relative seclusion of the shadow of his wagon. No words. Finn's normally a chatty cat, but not just now, focused as he is on on kissing Linny breathless.

Linny, too, is quickly darting eyes around as she's pulled away, but she certainly doesn't complain. She doesn't really even have time to think, aside from worrying about those connections she just made seeing her run off with the smith. Those worries, though, are kissed away, as is every single thought in her head, and yes, even her breath. Good job, Finn. And so the kissing goes on for Faranth only knows how long before Lin places hands on his chest, pulling herself away from him. "Finn," she starts out, indeed breathless, voice low and scolding, "I'm here on official weyrwoman business." However, she follows that statement up with leaning in against his ear and saying, "I'm not wearing any panties." To prove that point, she grabs his hands with her own, and she slides them up underneath her dress to cup her bare behind. Surprise!

Choke! Finn had grinned through Linny's 'reprimand' but his eyes bug out at her last and doubly so as she guides his hand. Recovering quickly he presses her harder against the wagon, "Linny," he growls. Well, we've established that Finn knows her name at least. He shifts against her, a quick inhalation of her spiced-flower smell and he's nudging her face up and away as he prepares to kiss a chain down that neck of hers. He pauses, exhaling through his nose long and slow. Growling with goodnatured frustration he steps away, eyes lit with mischief, giving that backside a sharp pat before offering the same arm in escort, "My good weyrwoman," he clears his throat, "How may the Reika serve?" He is about to escort her demurely 'out' into view when he notes the state of his clothes. Uh. "How did you manage this?!" He's untucked and all sorts of undone. Quickly redoing stays and ties he slips a kiss in quickly, a scruffy peck to the sweet spot under her ear and then, "Ahem," re-offers her his arm, strolling out among the wagons.

"I wasn't sure what your intentions were. I thought…I thought maybe we were gonna do a quickie." Linny is a pro at removing clothes quickly and efficiently, and she only has an easy shrug for him. No shame in her game. While he's busy fixing himself, she makes sure that her clothes and hair, too, are neat and orderly, and then, when offered, the goldrider slips her hand into his arm. "Thank you, kind sir." And now it's time to play polite strangers, which…can be a fun game for two people who seem to have a lot of built up passion. Role playing, anyone? "I was simply introducing myself to everyone so that they know that I am here to serve in whatever way necessary, but while doing so, I also commissioned a few things for myself and my potential future weyr." Okay, a lot of things. Okay, just about the whole damn weyr. A bed, a desk, tables, chairs, not to mention asking where and how to secure linens and decorations. Surely, Linny's requests alone will have them busy for months, and she'll happily be handing over a fair share of marks.

Finn's brows go up, canted quizzically Oh? as he straightens, twisting to look back. He's rather more than a little considering hauling her back over there, no shame in his game either, but momentum has carried them forward. Alas. Brows go down. A wistful sigh. He will simply have to content himself with Linny-on-the-arm, which is plenty pleasant in its own right. "You serve us?" Pardon Finn, he's an artisan, not a politician. "How?" He blinks, doffing the role of dutiful stranger before ever really donning it. But he's pleased and proud that she saw their goods as suitable for her weyr. He'd been uncertain she'd find anything to her liking with the Reika known for sturdy simple craftsmanship and her tastes… well, he didn't really know her tastes. And so he beams at her, glad that she's found their work to her liking. "Er… I mean, may I offer you something to drink, weyrwoman. Water?" Uh, "Whiskey?"

“Of course. You are here at our Weyr, are you not? If any conflicts arise between one of the traders and a member of the Weyr, I'm the person to go to to resolve the issue and make it right to whoever necessary,” Linny replies easily, almost as if that fact should be obvious to him, but what she does, exactly, can be confusing, so she doesn’t linger on it. And don’t think that her ordering things through them doesn’t have political reasoning behind it as well. “Whiskey,” comes out all too quickly, as she glances around the grounds once more. “I almost want to run back to my weyr real quick and get changed and take off my knot. It would be nice to hang out without having to worry about keeping up appearances,” she murmurs to Finn, lips twisting as she tries to figure out this diplomatic situation. Stay the proper weyrwoman, or be herself and let loose after a hard day of kissing ass? “But I guess it wouldn’t matter if they already saw me. Can’t change the way that I look.” Linny shrugs, resigned to the weyrwoman role she’s forced to play for the evening.

Oh. OH. Finn doesn't understand what it is that Onari REALLY does, but he's starting to. Other things begin to click into place slowly. The gears in his head are cranking away. Speaking of Onari, "My sister's about your size, though not so curvy," his free hand describes said curves. "I'm sure she'd like to meet you. She thinks I'm gonna piss you off and ruin things for us here." Finn just tosses that out there. Hi Onari! Circuit of his forge complete, the smith turns loose of Linny's polite catch on his arm. He snags the tongs from their peg and retrieves the last piece he'd been working on from its bath. He grins, beaming at the piece waving the goldrider over to see. "Look," there's not much to see. It's a slim knife blade, rough and unlovely. "Do you see?" His finger describes a serpentine path on the dark blade. If Linny looks VERY closely, she may notice the barest suggestion of a striking wave patterning up and down the length of the blade. He thumps his fist on the table, smile fierce.

Sorry Finn, sorry blade. But after his comment, Linny’s mind is elsewhere. Throughout his words, the goldrider opens and closes her mouth about a half dozen times: mouth opens to say something, but just as quick, another question pops into her mind, causing her mouth to slam shut, and in doing so, her eyes harden and narrow little by little. He should be thankful that Linny is wearing her knot and there on weyrwoman business, forcing her to handle this matter diplomatically. His fist thump and smile cause her to smile back, though the emotion isn’t even close to touching her eyes, and she opens her mouth to speak once again. When she does, she speaks slowly, words deliberately chosen, “And why, exactly, does your sister think you’ll ruin things for yourselves here by pissing me off?” That question won out over all of the ones, for now, but surely they can’t be far behind.

Finn's eyes are fixed on the knife blade. He subjects it to more scrutiny before glancing up to -whoa- what's that expression Linny's sporting? Light eyes, intent and guileless, trip across the goldrider's features. He takes a deep breath and sighs, brow furrowing lightly, "Ah, my sister. Works too hard. Worries too much." What question is Finn answering? "'Settle down,' she says on one hand. 'Keep her rank in mind,' she says." A grin trips lopsided across scruffy features, "You're the 'her.'" In case Linny hadn't picked up on that subtext. "'Riders are a different stock' she says." Sorry, Onari. "She's all over the place." The soft smile slips away into a bit of melancholy, "I think she's lonely. No one that thinks she's special. Yanno?" Unbrotherly, "I think a good tumble would put her head right," eyes narrow, "But I'll thump his skull for him." Whoever 'he' turns out to be. Fierce talk from big brother. "Bronzerider or otherwise." And THIS, folks, is why Onari is justifiably worried. Finn is a walking diplomatic disaster.

Linny tries to stay calm, but underneath the surface, she's near a rolling boil, but luckily for him, his words don't seem to crank up the fire anymore than they already did, so she starts to simmer down. Plus, it's hard to stay mad when looking at his handsome face. However, there are a few points she wants to comment on, and the one that's most important comes up first. "Just…for the record, for you and her both, I don't throw my rank around." Like ever. "Whatever /this is," she says, gesturing between them, "if it works out, then great. But if it doesn't, then it doesn't, and we part ways. For Faranth's sake, I work in diplomacy. I can't be kicking people out of the Weyr when they dump my ass." And surprisingly, Linny's lips curl up into a smile for her words, amused with something in them, and then it only grows at his. "Yeah, if you could not thump a bronzerider's skull…because then I will have to pull rank on you, which I really hate doing."

"Like I said, she worries too much." It's all that simple for Finn. He never thought Linny would take anything out on him or the Reika. He blinks quizically at the goldrider, "This," waving his hand between them in imitation of her, "doesn't need any working out." Simply stated, but a doubt has crept in. "Right?" Daggum that ONARI. With the THINKING. And the WORRYING. "Whiskey!" Finn totally forgot the whiskey. He holds up a single finger -wait here- and vanishes into his wagon. Thumping and thudding from the wagon interior causes the fair of lizards to alight in a flurry of chittering, wheeling before they settle again as Finn hops from the top step to the dirt. Whump. He watches the eddies of dust swirl away, amused as ever by the little twisters. He hops again. Thump. Swirl. Hmm? Oh. Whiskey. Hustling over to his worktable he pauses after setting both tumblers down, "No ma'am," delivered not to her rank, but as a decisive preamble to what follows, "A bronzerider hurts my sister, I'll thump his skull and neither man nor dragon'll keep me from it." Where Linny doesn't throw her rank around, Finn simply doesn't see it as a bar to action. A man's a man and his sister is his sister.

"Well, see tha—" But then that finger is silencing her, and Linny is more than happy to have to wait, especially when whiskey awaits her. While she waits, the goldrider does look over his work area, careful not to touch anything, and there's a large smile upon his arrival. "Okay. Perhaps I can be persuaded to look the other way, if and when the time comes," is finally her say on the matter, winking. "I've thumped a brownrider's skull a few times. Never a bronzerider's, though." Idly. While waiting for whiskey to be poured, Linny goes back to what she was going to say before he left in such a hurry. "I guess I just…want to be sure this is what you want. I'm Weyrbred, but I know how trader life is. My first born's father is a trader. He was expected to marry, not be weyrmated, especially not to a goldrider. I heard you say that your sister wants you to settle down." Expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the blanks about he feels about such things, she lifts her brows as dark eyes are directed up at him.

Unpaused, Finn pours a couple fingers for the both of them. It's somewhere between topshelf and rotgut. Servicable day-to-day whiskey. He tips the glass to her, "'May we kiss those we please, and please those we kiss.'" He extends the glass, intently meeting Linny's eye as the tumblers clink. He takes a good slug of the amber gold, sucking air across his teeth at the pleasant burn, humming as warmth blooms in his belly. He looks at the sunlight falling through the glass, illuminating it, scintillating, refracting, gold and honey brown. "I don't know why you riders have a special word for marriage. It certainly doesn't sound different to me. Weyrmated, married. What's the difference?"

Now there's a toast Linny will drink to. And one that's a lot more polite than any of the ones she has to give. Really, as much as she loves her whiskey, it doesn't seem to like her, which is why there's a wince as she swallows her mouthful down, shuddering as it heads down towards her stomach, but even that reaction isn't enough to sway her away from taking another sip. It burns so good. And now, class, welcome to Riders 101 with Professor Linny. "There's a huge difference and no difference at the same time." But have no fear, Finn. Your professor will explain. "I could ask you right now to be my weyrmate, and if you said yes, that'd be it. We'd be weyrmates. And it can break apart that easily, too. But the devotion to one another, that's the same as in a marriage. Just without all of the nonsense of a wedding and a harper and all that. I guess we riders are just no muss, no fuss. Be with me or don't be with me." A shrug, and then she's back hitting that whiskey.

"Ah," Finn nods, "That sounds like poor fodder for alliances," Weyrmating. He muses on that for a long moment, eyes vague with thoughts unspoken. He slugs his drink back and puts the tumbler down firmly. She didn't ask directly, but Finn offers regardless, "This I can promise," he raises fingers to brush lightly at Linny's jaw, the look he turns upon her intent, "I'm always only ever exactly where I'm at." With someone. Not with someone. Working. Resting. Profound? Absurd? Selfish? Self-aware? "And when I'm with you, I'll always try to find your smile." Whatever that means. "I need to pack up," the daily routine, "And then I should probably take you to my father. Unless you've met with him already." He's already on about the task of breaking down his workspace. "Do you mind waiting?"

“I’ve already met him, but I’m curious. Were you planning on introducing me as Linny, the junior weyrwoman, or Linny, the woman you’re making smile?” Using his words against him is always fun, but it’s also the best way she has to describe their “relationship”. The woman shakes her head at his question about waiting, but unfortunately, she’s not done talking about the previous topic. “I just want to make sure that you’ve thought this through, Finn. It sounds as if your family wants you to settle down, get married, and have kids. I can do two of those things, but I can’t get married. I want you to figure out what you want so I’m not wasting your time if you do, in fact, want to be married someday.” Linny pauses, glancing down at the whiskey in her glass move as she tilts it to and fro. “This is new territory for me, too. Mostly all of my relationships have been with riders, so this has been a non-issue.” When she looks back up at him, Lin wears an apologetic smile. “Just…think about it, okay? Think about what you want. I’ve been rethinking my own stand on relationships because of you.” And in typical fashion, she follows her serious statements up with an attempt at humor. “And if you do want to be married, I have a daughter I can hook you up with.”

"There's no difference. Not to me." Finn's eyes narrow, a rare lick of ire, "Smiling isn't a…" he flaps his hand, there's a good word for this, but he can't put his finger on it, "It's not a substitute for anything." That's not the word, but it's the sense. It's frustrating to be so simple and yet so misunderstood. He looks down, brow furrowed, thoughtful again. "I don't have to think about it. I don't want to be married. Or weyrmated. Not now, in this moment. And tomorrow's not here yet." Who knows what he'll want then.

“All right, all right,” Linny starts out in a soothing tone, expression sort of amused and very apologetic. If he wasn’t busy tearing down, she’d plant a tender kiss on his lips, but as it is, she can only stand there and smile at him. “We won’t talk about it anymore. I’m sorry I brought it up, okay?” Brows raise as eyes stay locked on him, wanting him to see the honesty behind the darkness. “I don’t want it to ruin our evening. But speaking of our evening,” she starts, glancing over her shoulder at the people gathered. “Am I interrupting or is it okay if I accompany you tonight?” And the way Linny bats her lashes at him, twisting her lips in such a way that deepens her dimples even more, well, it should make it easy for him to say yes. Or at least that’s her hope.

Linny's placating looks are noted silently, "No apology. There shouldn't be any misunderstanding between us." Muscles cord in Finn's arms, tension writ in his whole frame as he wrestles the anvil into its wheeled shed, slamming stays home with rather more force than is necessary. "Euphemism," voice rough, tossed over his shoulder. That was the word he was looking for. Tools, gear and pieces in various states of completion go into cases and drawers. Worktables fold up. Eventually everything is stowed and locked into storage, Finn finally returns to Linny, solemn to her batted lashes and dimples, "I'd be honored. You don't need wiles, Linny." Music strikes up deeper in the encampment and Finn steps close, putting an arm around Linny's waist. He hauls her close, pressing against her, fingers of his free trailing up the goldrider's ribs, then out along the inside of her arm, lifting it with braced fingers until their hands catch. The distant music builds to a tense pause. Finn tightens the embrace, contact along their bodies intensifying, before leaning in, head tipped slightly, lips parted for a kiss that never comes, "I need to get cleaned up." He does. He's all sweaty and smells of smoke and heat and metal.

Sure, Linny doesn’t /need wiles, but it certainly helps sometimes, but at his words, her expression does clear, leaving only the gentle lines of her face looking up at him, making her look a lot younger than she actually is. His touches build something within her, slowly but powerfully, awaiting his kiss to release the passion inside her, but since it never comes, she’s left to exhale loudly, wistfully. “Mmm,” is her initial reaction to his talk of getting cleaned up, leaning in to actually smell him, hands running along his chest. “I rather like it. Smells like hard work. Not much more sexy than that to a woman.” While she’s used to her lovers smelling mostly like dragons, Finn’s is quickly winning her over, obvious by the way her hands continue to roam, the look in her eyes. “Can I watch?” The cleaning up, of course.

Those dimples and fluttery lashes are adorable. They simply aren't needed because Finn's not one to who takes coaxing out of temper. He grins at that wistful sigh, Linny was due some teasing after the Panty Revelation. Wandering hands further stoke banked fires. "Watch? You're gonna help." Finn leans back to grin mischievously down at his armful of visiting goldrider, "While around our fires and under our roofs, guests earn their keep." Delivered with the solemn weight of tradition belied by a crinkling around his eyes. "Me now," he leans back in, hands rolling down her back, "Or dishes later." Her call. Finn grins and kisses Linny (and himself) breathless again. "Whoo. Tough call, I know. I'll give you a moment to think on it." A flash of teeth, a quick peck and he's gone, headed 'round the side of his wagon.

To say Linny’s delighted to hear the news that she gets to help him is putting it mildly, though many different emotions flash across her features ranging from lust to excitement to mischief. Kissed to almost a dazed point, the goldrider’s feet remain planted as he leaves, but she’s quick to reply, “I’d rather do you,” a bit too loud given that they are in public. Let’s hope the music is loud enough to not allow her voice to carry over to everyone else. A quick glance around, and then she dashes over to him, all handsy once again despite whatever it is he may be doing. It becomes obvious which body part of his needs cleaning the most, because, well, that’s where her hands go first, over his clothes. He’s got her going, and there’s only one thing on her mind. “Do you have time to do me, too?” Definitely not talking about getting cleaned up, now.

"This is the best made up tra-urk," Finn's eyes bug out a bit. Lindsy is hanny… bit of a brain scramble… Linny is handsy indeed. "-dition ever." He rounds the corner of his wagon, and thank Faranth it's far and facing away from the rest of the encampment. Unlocking the door to his wagon, Finn waves Linny in. Whoops! Whiskey. And glasses! "Go on in, and please, get started without me." Finn may need to do some calisthenics. You know, warm up a bit. He grabs a large clay basin and dips it into the waterbarrel before ferrying the sloshing whole to the forge where it's nestled on the embers of the day's work. Finn bounces on his toes, waiting impatiently for the water to heat. Finally! He snags the whiskey bottle, tumblers and awkwardly grabs the clay basin, walking caaaaaaarefully back, the sloshing hot water (and hotter basin) endured ever-so-manfully, "Ow ow ow ow ow ow OW ow ow ow," the 'ows' continue as he fumbles the door to his wagon open. Finn freezes, mouth agape stunned to utter stillness and silence at what awaits him in his wagon. Blink. Blinkblink. Slowly, slowly nerve messages begin again to relay their important messages, like, Oh… BREATHING. And thinking. And moving. And speaking, "I'm a lucky, lucky, lucky f-" THUD. The door to the wagon thunks shut. It opens briefly to admit a flailing hand that wraps something around the doorlatch. Please, please be a towel. Or a sock. Please.

Finn sure has diaphanous socks.

The last of the sun is slipping away. Cookfires light the twilight between the wagons and the Reika assemble to eat and socialize. Music sounds from little bands of players here and there. The Reika are hosting a very special guest tonight and many have turned out in their finest! There's a layer of expectation and excitment buzzing through the camp. "She placed an order for a dozen chairs. A dozen!" With the weavers, "Did you see her dress? Such fabric." Winding through the camp a train of dancers and musicians. Finn waits in the shadows between wagons as the revellers pass, face fixed in bland 'hello good evening nothing to see here.' Nevermind that Finn is barefoot, wet and wearing only trousers… or that his face is only half-shaved. A loud hammering comes at Onari's door along with "'Nari! Open up. 'NARI!"

Of course Onari knows about this special guest, though she's keeping a much cooler head about it than most of the rest of the caravan. Odds are she's been around to Wherz and a few of the other caravans to drum up some more entertainment, considering there aren't a ton of dancers and musicians among the Reika. She's also doing her best to look presentable; it isn't difficult to do, really, but this is the one thing in which Onari can tend to be quite a girly-girl. She's only just settled on her outfit of a long, swishy skirt of wine red and a sleeveless cream-colored top. And her hair is down, left to tumble over her shoulders in a look rarely seen. Still, she doesn't have any footwear or jewelry picked out when that pounding comes on her door, and when she throws it open to reveal a bedraggled brother, her brow furrows. "What? What's wrong?" Of course she assumes something must be wrong. Finn looks like he just had a fight with his razor in the river.


Really, what's Linny to do while left alone in Finn's wagon? For a long while, she lays there, blankets pulled up all around her, picking at the ends of her hair, but it doesn't take too long before boredom sets in. The goldrider snags a tunic of Finn's, potentially off of the floor, throwing it on over her petite frame as she peeks and pokes around. It'll do for now, to keep her decent should anyone come in. Not that she's going through his stuff, but like he told her before that he had never been in a weyr, Lin's never been in a wagon. So she's just seeing what it's like, what he's got. Curious. Waiting.


Finn hustles in to Onari's wagon without being asked inside. "Onari!" A pace and a half and he's at the back, spinning to entreat his sister fo- "Whoa. You look nice!" He grins, "What's the occasion?" Clueless Finn is clueless. "Do you have a date?!" His voice roughens, eyes narrowing, "Is it that carpenter?"

Yes, her brother really is clueless, and the fact that Onari thinks just that is writ clear on her face before consternation takes over as he plows his way inside. "Wha-? Finn!" Even as he's grinning - and okay, maybe that makes her reaction a little less vehement - she grabs his arm and pulls to get him back toward the door and out of her space. "What have I told you about just barging in to my wagon?!" His compliment has her fidgeting with the end of her hair for a second. "Thank you," she demurs, but then she's right back into piqued. "And no, I don't! We have a guest and I haven't met her yet. Everyone's excited. Or did you not pass through camp to get here somehow?"


After poking here and there, finding nothing of real interest, Linny comes upon a sketchbook that she opts to grab, idly flipping through the pages. A few of the drawings get longer looks than others, and after getting to a blank page, the goldrider searches around for a stylus. Luckily, she finds one rather quickly, and then she heads back to the bed with the stylus and sketchbook, getting comfortable and getting to work. After all, while commissioning many different items from many different people today, Linny didn't give her favorite trader one. So she starts sketching her idea for a new blade for her. One that's smaller, more discrete. Able to be worn in a garter or such around her thigh for those times she needs to wear a dress.


Finn blows past Onari's reprimand about barging into her wagon and well beyond as he starts peeking into drawers and hanging spaces looking for SOMETHING. He grins rakishly at Onari's hair twisting, then his eyes go wide at Onari's comment about their guest. He knows just who that guest is and averts his eyes into a closet. "A guest? Uh, really?" I need to borrow a dress." More closet peering. Oh… that's pretty. "Why don't you wear this? It's pretty." he slips the dress out and holds it up at arm's length. Then against himself, frowning. Then against Onari. AH. Hmmm. Would it fit?

"Finn az Reika!" That would be Onari channeling some of their mother as she goes to grab her brother's arm again. "Stay out of my things!! Are you blind, deaf, and dumb? And…what?" He needs to borrow a what? "That one's too warm," she says, swatting it aside and eying Finn. "What do you need one of my dresses for? Is this a dare or something?"


Nothing much changes on Linny's end, as she continues to work on the sketch of her new blade. Though she keeps the hilt less ornate than her large knife, she still makes it a little girly and her own, keeping the focus of it simple and easy to grab should the situation arise. The blade itself isn't nearly as big as her other, since it needs to stay concealed under potentially tight fitting clothing and not stab her as she moves or sits. Tongue may peek out occasionally, as the goldrider is deep in thought. She's never been the best drawer, and she certainly doesn't know a lot about designing blades, but Lin's doing the best she can. At least it's giving her something to do while she waits. Oh yeah, where is Finn? He said he'd be quick; this doesn't seem quick.


Uh oh. He got full-named. Finn flinches at the address and at the swat, holding the dress before himself defensively. "Um. Yes. A dare. That's TOTALLY why I need it." Thank you, Onari. "Something breezy, though. Maybe in yellow? She'd lo-ooook over there! Ka-kaw! Ka-kaw!" Finn grabs whatever dresses he can and makes for the door.

Oh, no. He's not getting away that easy. "'She'?" Yep, Onari really did catch that, and she is not buying the dare. She shouldn't have opened her mouth, but stick an 'um' at the start of an affirmation, and you don't get a whole lot of credit. "Now wait just a minute!" Lunging after Finn, she wraps both arms (not hands, to avoid tearing anything) around the dresses hanging from his hands and yanks them from his grip with all the strength she can muster, which isn't inconsiderable. Throwing them aside, she steps right up to him and gives him a little shove, warning, as very real anger snaps in her eyes. "Finn! You don't get to just crash in here, try to steal my some of my clothes, and leave with no explanation! You're being weird and you're being rude, and I'm about to holler for Papa if you don't knock it off. Now what. Are. You. Doing?" She folds her arms, intent on not budging.


Aaand that's about it. Linny pulls the sketchbook away from her to give her blade idea a final look over, and she looks satisfied. But there's a quick moment where she pulls it back in, likely to write something cute in the margins for him (or maybe something dirty, hard to tell with Linny). Content now, she gets up to replace the book where she found it, leaving Finn a little present to find. After all, she doesn't need the blade, so she'll let him find it in his own good time. She pulls his tunic up over her head and drops it on the ground before crawling back into bed, getting comfy. If he's going to take forever, she might as well get a catnap in, right?


"You little rat! FINE. Run to Pa- Oh. That's nice," he totally leans around Onari and twitches a deep green, limsy, shimmering little number that he's SURE he hasn't seen Onari in. Totally have reach on you, Sis, suck it up. He looks back at Onari, with a heartwrenchingly hopeful look in his eyes and all he sees is fury. "Just one dress." He holds his fingers so close together and peeps through them, so teeny, "Just a teeny favor." Still fury. Sisterly wrath. "FINE. I sorta… um. Well, you haven't met Linny yet, have you?" His eyebrows go up and he grabs Onari's hand, "Well come on. And bring pretty stuff!" He points at the little green dress. Lips purse, "Oh, and that one too." Dress up!

And if Onari can help it, Finn may never actually see Onari in that particular dress, given that it's one of the few she has that's on the sexier side of things. He may have reach on her, but it's not as if she can't snatch it back when it gets drawn closer to be inspected - which she does, and tosses it onto the pile with the others. "Linny? Your Linny? That's the goldrider that's here?" There's no real anger to the question, just firmness, but she snatches her hand back out of Finn's. "You don't get it, do you? You just made a mess of my personal space because you 'need a dress' for some reason you still haven't explained, and you expect me to just let it go?" It isn't often that Onari gets steaming mad at her brother, but this time did it. "I'd like to meet the weyrwoman on my own terms, thank you very much. Unless you know where she is. Why do I need to bring-" Something falls into place for the trader girl - a suspicion, at least. "Where is the weyrwoman, anyway?" she asks slyly, eyes narrowing.


Here's the thing about Linny getting comfy in bed. It doesn't always mean that she has blankets where they should be. Covering up naughty bits and whatnot. In this case, well, her bottom half is covered, but not so much her top. But hey, she's half asleep anyways, so she doesn't care. And Finn said he'd be back soon anyway, so it really doesn't matter what's showing or not showing, right? Right?! Plus, she looks really cute and adorable asleep, turned on her side with dark hair spilling across her shoulder.


The jig is up. Onari's pissed and he's run out of ideas to get her to just GO. He puts a finger to his mouth, tapping one of his lower teeth with a callused finger, thinking… thinking… he's got nothing. Finn dishes, "I might have… messed up her dress. In my wagon." Delivered so quietly and with a sweetly innocent smile. "Just a little." A LOT. "Please Onari, I just need this one favor." His hands drop to take hers and he fixes Onari with his most pathetic look. See how pathetic? Sad eyebrows and wide, blinky eyes.

Onari's initial reaction is to give an almighty eyeroll. Of course. Of course the weyrwoman is in Finn's wagon. It isn't the quietness of his voice, or his smile, or his pleading or even him taking her hands that gets her to move - she does that all on her own. Her expression inscrutable, she turns, goes back to her pile of dresses, and finds one in a light, flowing fabric of pale gold - quarter-sleeved, with a wide, somewhat low-cut neckline and an empire waist. Removing the hanger, she folds the dress carefully and, without a word, marches past her brother, opens the door, and strides out, her own skirt fluttering in her wake. What is she doing?


Nothing new to report on this end. Linny's officially asleep now, and instead of some people whose mouth fall open when asleep, her lips seem to pucker up slightly, giving her a cute, childlike look. The lines on her face relax, there's no worried wrinkle on her forehead. When she's asleep, she's an angel. It's another story when she's awake, so Finn should enjoy it while he can. If he'd ever come back to his wagon.

Finn hadn't wasted any time once Onari had capitulated and pauses only to make sure that Onari's door latches securely and then he's hop-chasing his sister. "Onari, wait." He -whoops- pants not tied so good! Finn slows to retie stays, "Wait. Onari! Don't." Shards, woman! He paces alongside her trying to get her attention, "Onari." And they're there. Linny's inside, uh… in her altogeter. At this point, Finn bodily gets in Onari's way. "Wait," he growls. He trips up the steps and pauses. Uh. It's a strange thing to knock on your own wagon door. He does. "Linny," he calls quietly. He panics. It took so long… what if she's not here!

Luckily, somehow or another, Linny hears the commotion going on outside, and it pulls her out of her little nap, eyes blinking open only to find….he's still gone. "Finn?" she calls out as she sits up, pulling the blanket with her. She's gotten chilly, it seems, so she wraps the blanket around her as much as she can, pulling her knees to her chest as a hand reaches up to push her hair back. "Finn?" comes a little louder before she falls silent, attempting to listen in to words that sound like they are close.

Finn rolls his eyes, Onari had beat hell for leather to his wagon and NOW wonders what he doesn't want her to do. "Go in there." DUH. "She's naked." Finn plucks at the dress, looking at Onari expectantly. Finn knocks again, louder, he'd heard some stirring within. WHEW. "Uh, Linny, can you open the door? I'm locked out."

"You're the one who left the weyrwoman in there without clothes, and you want me to barge in on her?" Onari asks, eyes widening somewhat incredulously. "You go in there! Not as if it's new to you, aye? And let her know I have a dress for her." Then Finn is knocking again, and at the announcement that he's locked himself out, she gives another roll of her eyes. "Or better yet…" She moves up one step on the risers to the wagon, coming up against her brother a bit and reaching past him to give a knock of her own. "If you don't mind, weyrwoman," she calls without reservation, all polite and friendly in tone even as she steps back down, eyes still on Finn. "I've brought something I think you may need."

"Uhh." This should be interesting. Linny crawls her way out of bed, but then once she's standing, she carefully has to adjust blankets around her petite body so nothing's in view, and then, while holding the blankets in place, she unlocks the door and opens it like she owns the place, all casual and like nothing at all is out of the ordinary. "Hi. Thank you so much," she's quick to direct at Onari before she steps back out of the way so that they can enter, as Linny takes a seat on the bed, readjusting her blanket dress.

"Seriously. You're the talker in the family?" Incredulous. It's time for some brother-sister bickering, y'all! Finn rolls his eyes, "You said 'Don't what, Finn?'" he falsetto's her voice, naggy sounding. "I said, 'Go in there.' REALLY. Like I'd tell you to-" and then the door is opening. A stab of panic and then relief and then panic again. "That's…" my blanket! "You're…" NAKED. And beautiful. But mostly NAKED. "It's…" he didn't really have any following thought to that. Grabbing Onari by the wrist he hauls her -gently- up the steps, "What are you waiting for!?" He grins sheepishly at Linny as they pass, "Hi. Sorry it took so long." A glare at Onari. "Onari, this is Linny, uh, Weyrwoman Linny. Linny, uh…" he coughs, "Weyrwoman, this is Onari, my sister."

It's quite possible Onari is still fuming enough at Finn to have grossly misunderstood what he meant - which she did. "Why would you even think you'd have to warn-" she starts to snap back, but then there is a blanket-wrapped weyrwoman behind Finn, and Onari straightens, schooling her face to neutrality…until Finn grabs her wrist. "That is not necessary, thank you," she tells him through gritted teeth, pulling out of his grip and quickly composing herself again. She doesn't return the glare, instead ignoring Finn and levelling a polite smile on Linny as she enters the wagon and hands the dress to the weywoman. "I'm sorry we're meeting like this," the trader girl says, genuinely meaning it. "And I think it'll probably be a little big on you, but I hope it'll do. Finn told me your other dress had a mishap." Still not looking at him.

"Linny," the woman clarifies, not feeling the need for any formality in this situation. After all, she's naked. And at the mercy of Onari. Carefully, she stands, reaching a hand out to accept that dress, cheeks reddened with a touch of a blush, but she offers Onari a genuine smile, if only, perhaps, she's surprised at how civil this meeting is. Silly Finn filling her head with ideas about his sister. "Lovely to meet you, and thank you so much for this," she says, lifting the dress in her hand, still carefully clutching the blanket around her body with the other. A look is sent to Finn when talk turns to her tattered remains of a dress, but then eyes flick back to his sister. "Yes, unfortunately." But that's all she says on the matter.

Finn wilts in relief at Linny's low key reaction. YES. PREACH, SISTER. Finn further rolls his eyes at Onari. "Look. There's no pretending this is anything other than painfully awkward. Please laugh. We don't need a Reika Diplomat… just my sister." Finn implores Onari, edging closer to her. After turns, Onari knows what's coming. "My incredibly sweet sister, who," Whuff, he throws arms around Onari and gives her a lung-crushing squeeze. "Loves and helps her brother." He angles Onari away from Linny and gives Linny a 'this is your cue!' look. "Thank you, Onari," he croons, squeezing. "Come on, you're not mad. MUCH." He wriggles, "Come on…"

If Linny thinks Finn is even a little silly after this, Onari will consider her job done here. How she's to know whether or not that's the case is another thing entirely. At Finn's exhortation to laugh, Onari finally looks at him, her eyeroll not quite so pronounced as her previous ones…and then he's doing that familiar sidling thing, and she braces just before she gets squeezed. "Uffff! Loves her brother," she grunts, reaching up from a pinned arm as much as she can to swat ineffectually at one of his arms, "and is helping the weyrwoman, in this case. You're not the one who needs the dress." And then Finn is swinging her away from Linny, and she tries to swat him again. Maybe she's not that mad, but… "I will be if you don't stop treating me like I'm twelve, for Faranth's sake," she grumbles. "I know how to not look on my own."

Now, here comes the tricky part. While Finn has Onari distracted, the blanket is dropped to the ground, and Linny starts working on wiggling herself into the dress. It doesn't matter if she wouldn't look in the first place, the weyrwoman is quick to make sure she's covered and dressed again. It's embarrassing enough to have to ask her for the dress; it's quite enough for her to catch a glimpse of the woman's naked body. Finally, Linny clears her throat to let Finn know that she's good, and the comes time to fidget with the dress. Not quite her tastes, but hey, it'll do. "You are a doll, Onari. Thank you. I promise to repay the favor and more." And then eyes go to Finn, since it seems like they're all about teasing, "I'll be sure to give your brother etiquette lessons, such as not ruining other people's property."

Still tacklehugging his sister into submission -keep up that swatting, kid, it's cute- Finn lifts his head, spitting out Onari hair, "PAH." Thbphbbbphhht. "I get high marks," Pah… ptooey, "For efficiency, though." So romantic. And so unnecessary. All right. Finn takes a deep breath, stilling to give Onari a final squeeze, putting his forehead against hers, "Thank you." He drops a kiss on her cheek and turns to survey the results, "Oh. Linny, that's… you look great." Not creepy at all that this is his sister's dress. Nope.

"You're welcome," Onari tells Linny, a bit louder than she might otherwise because she's still being Finn-hugged. One more swat for the comment before she's released, and she "humphs" to his thanks, though she maaaaaybe smirks a little at the peck on the cheek. The dress does, as she thought it might, look a little big on Linny…but Onari rather thinks Linny is the sort that could pull of most things. She is certainly pretty, and very much the type to easily hold her brother's attention. Straightening her own dress, the trader girl gives Linny another smile, eying her brother sidelong. "He could use them. Speaking of which, you can help me clean up the mess you made in my wagon later." The last is, of course, directed to Finn, who also gets a light backhand to his elbow. "I think I should probably be off. I hope to get a chance to talk to you again, Linny - under less awkward circumstances." Though it could have been a lot worse! "Good evening, ma'am," she says with a small bob of a curtsey, and then she's turning for the door.

The weyrwoman does a little curtsy in the dress, laughing lightly when she's through, and then her eyes are all for Finn. They're not lustful, but the eyes she turns upon him are a lot sweeter, softer, head falling to the side as looks at him. But then that's that moment where she remembers Onari is with them, and it's easy for Linny to turn that look upon her, twisting it into something more polite. "I do hope so, Onari. Thank you again." Just in case she hasn't said her gratitude enough in the past few minutes. "And please. It's Linny." After all, Onari just saved her reputation and dignity. It's okay that they're on a first name basis, leaving all formality behind.

Type. Finn doesn't have a TYPE. And more to the point, whose type WOULDN'T Linny be, ONARI? Finn grins, rakish, "Oh. I'm hopeless." He hops up on the bunk, an cants his head to the side, "Linny, you've got your work cut out for you." He drops off the bunk and dips into a little curtsy of his own for Onari's command, "Yes, ma'am." He beams at Linny, eyes wide, "Good, right? Like that?" He hops back up on the bunk and Onari's nearly clear of the door when Finn asks, "Wait. Linny, did you want underpants too?"

Not Onari's type, for certain! Finn's last reaches her ears just as she sets foot on the steps without, and she quite literally facepalms before just continuing on. She'll pretend she didn't hear. Maybe she would actually like to get to know Linny a bit without having to think about any other articles of clothing that might possibly be requested of her to loan the weyrwoman. ESPECIALLY not articles of that nature.

Linny simply levels a look upon the trader, attempting to look upset but the amusement bursts through. "You are hopeless," is all she has to say to him, even in regards to the underpants question. If he thinks about it long enough, he'll remember the answer. "Now, c'mon. I didn't get this new dress for nothing." And without waiting for Finn, the goldrider heads out the door and out into the night to enjoy it with him.

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