Who

Ryott, Nasrin

What

The weyrwoman should have bells.

When

It is afternoon of the sixteenth day of the eleventh month of the fifteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Galleries

OOC Date 29 Dec 2018 05:00

 

ryott_default.jpg nas.png

"Keep practicing…"


igengalleries.jpg

Galleries

Though occasionally cleaned by ambitious (or neurotic) drudges or Weyrbrats being disciplined, the lack of Eggs over the last several Turns has led to the Galleries falling into a state of disrepair. Sand can be found…well, everywhere. On the benches, under the benches, on the railings and walkways. There is also the random tidbit leftover from people who've wandered into the gathering place since the last cleaning. A random bit of cloth here, a bit of something that might have been a carving-in-progress once there.


Afternoon and Rukbat blazes over Igen Weyr, even though the temperature is much more reasonable now that autumn is in full swing. Perhaps escaping the glare, or maybe just wanting a change from her usual haunts, a certain Zingari youth is laying on a bench near the middle of the galleries, off to one side, slightly bathed in whatever shade she can find. Dark hair is kept short, with longer bangs in the front, sweeping over dark brows. Her utilitarian outfit in shades of dark grey, a short sleeved tunic with a short vest over top, a pair of wherhide pants that fit like a second skin and short boots, seems to fit just so over her teenage form. With one arm crooked to create a pillow for her head, which is turned in the direction of the sands and the eggs there with mild interest, her fair of four blues and young queen are all curled up on or near her person, sleeping peacefully if haphazardly, with golden Discord tucked in against her neck, little head resting on the girl's cheek.

Narrowed to the shape of almonds, a set of peridot eyes high on an upper crag view a human's set of movements though she's been largely supine. Euskal, having just hatched a clutch of her own days ago is still riding the maternal vibes hanging around Zsaviranth. Should Diem need something, it's convenient Nasrin have a direct connection to the galleries when Rajakhelath's asleep or distracted. From this slice of indirect sight, Nasrin leaves the archives not far away and merges into a tangle of corridors. Facing the gallery's doorway she slips into the geometry of a shadow and in slippered feet and dark grey robes the junior prowls.

Although her gaze is held in the direction of the clutch of eggs on the Sands, Ryott's eyes look a little unfocused, as if her attention is turned inwards, almost thoughtful. Sorrow stirs from his position under her leg that is bent up, foot resting on the bench and lifts his head lazily with a mournful croon before adjusting himself and slipping back into sleep. The noise is just enough to pull the girl out of her reverie and she picks up a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. Not moving, she swivels her gaze into the shadows, searching with sharp eyes but if she sees anything, she doesn't let on. With a loud sigh, she lifts her free hand to gently rub Discord's golden cheek as she once again turns her attention back to the eggs.

Stone's cold seeps through the thin fabric of the weyrwoman's wool-linen blend robe as she stays still under the able scrutiny and senses of Ryott's multiple sentinels. Her chest holds its demand for oxygen for moments until the spectator turns back to watching egg shells harden. To accomplish the next task of getting closer Nasrin will have to bear a little sunlight until she can cross over into the next inlet of shade, now slowed by the presence of benches.

If Ryott is paying attention to the shadows, it's not immediately apparent with the lazy way she traces fingers over her little gold's soft hide. Trouble and Strife are both curled up on her chest when the former lifts a lid to look at his humanpet giving all the attention to Discord and warbles his discontent as he moves up Ryott's body to try and press his head under the girl's fingers which sets off the little queen to hissing. With a squeak, he tumbles back and then slips off the girl's torso and falls for a second before getting his wings out and flitting in a lazy circle before finding a new spot next to her hip, settling with a huff. Distracted from her egg watching, Ryott waits until the spat is over before her gaze once more scans the shadows. "It's not nice to sneak up on people," she states in a deadpan drawl before once more turning her head back to the eggs, seemingly unperturbed should there be anyone there.

Smoky-blue eyes join the progress of the set of peridot ones still poised high above. There's a shaft of a breeze as the temperature difference of air pockets sink and resettle dense to least dense. The attractive target of someone seemingly inattentive keeps Nasrin coming and even after Ryott speaks up and out there's nothing but warmer air currents to reorient molecule by molecule. "Says whom?" The junior's Steen intones manifest as she shares only a little image of herself into the light, crown of her head first and telltale smirk right after.

"I don't know…people, I guess," Ryott replies dryly with a vague wave of her hand, as if she doesn't exactly count herself in that group. It would be hypocritical of her to do so anyway since it's something she's been told on numerous occasions. The flash of the junior weyrwoman's face is enough to pull recognition from the girl, the memory of a meeting in the mirror cave over a Turn ago, but her face remains an inscrutable mask even as she slowly shifts her body to a seated position, repositioning firelizard bodies as she goes. "Afternoon weyrwoman," she adds with a respectful nod of her head even though her words take on no more warmth than usual.

A harbinger of company in a dark grey robe which goes past her feet, Nasrin would be a true pagan if not for the chartreuse scarf doubled around her neck. If someone put a little bleach in Ravenclaw's laundry. "Only some people," she amends and gets within about three feet, standing to overlook the clutch and queen guarding them. A blue eye peeps over a chartreuse-covered shoulder toward Ryott and her firelizards, "is it me or did the size of your posse increase dramatically?"

Ryott leans back, propping herself up on her hands behind her, as she shrugs her shoulders absently in Nasrin's direction, "Suppose that's true," she drawls as Discord, a little disgruntled at having her nap disrupted takes up her perch on the girl's shoulder and peers in the direction of the cause of the disruption. With a chuckle that holds little warmth, she nods lazily as she tilts her head to one side as her gaze idly sweeps the weyrwoman's form from top to bottom. "I only had Trouble and Strife when we last met," she replies, pointing to her two oldest blues. "Then I found Discord here about 7 months ago," she lifts a finger to soothingly scritch at the underside of the queen's jaw, "And Sorrow and Bedlam there are my youngest, about 4 months old, impressed them within a day of each other." There, all the introductions are done, and her fair as a whole turns a curiously intent gaze on the woman in that moment, but remain as eerily quiet as their humanpet.

Nasrin makes a temporary bracelet out of one hand, trapping it over the wrist on the other hand. "Strife, Trouble, Sorrow… your firelizards were given quite the descriptive names. Somehow I'm thinking your next one won't be Glee. Unless you run out of bleak nouns." Finally satisfied in the status of the hatching arena, the goldrider sits two human spaces apart. "My firelizard Euskal's up there somewhere, she's how I knew you were here. I just have the one but if I knew I could have more just like her I'd try for more. Though then maybe I wouldn't value her as much." Thinking on that crux for a second, she continues. "What are you doing these days, the edited version is fine."

When Nasrin comments on her choice of names for her fair, Ryott sits up minutely straighter and there might be a twitch that curls the outer corner of her lips momentarily, about as close as the Zingari girl gets to beaming at what she perceives as a compliment. "I don't know, it's unexpected, we'll see. I'm perfectly happy with the ones I have. So much training lately…" she adds with an affected sigh. When the weyrwoman talks of her lone firelizard, she nods thoughtfully, "They make wonderful little spies don't they?" she comments in an offhand manner. When Nasrin asks her last, Ryott's cold laughter resumes and lifts one hand to makes some more vague gestures in the air as she tilts her head sharply to one side, the ghost of a smirk teasing at her lips, "Oh…a little of this, a little of that." How's that for edited?

Iota by iota the light source is creeping closer to her thigh. Nasrin pivots just enough to allow her covered forelegs to be bathed in it. As Ryott explains about her role with raising a score of firelizards, the rider is trying hard not to broadcast a fat smile for the thought of the young woman training something. "Oh yes, it's invaluable to have another means of being in two places at once. Or six in your case," a twitch of her lips to the left. "That's too much editing but I suppose I asked for it. No candidate title?" She squints, having not seen a white knot.

The junior weyrwoman is given a raised brow look as Ryott turns her head in that direction, giving another casual shrug about the benefits of the flizzen, but she says no more on the subject. She's definitely not one known for her gabbiness. Her chuckles are darkly amused by Nasrin's comment about too much editing, but a girl's entitled to her secrets, isn't she? Reaching up to run a hand through her dark hair, mussing the short tresses a bit carelessly, the girl shakes her head slowly at the woman's last inquiry, "Nope, not really interested."

Nasrin is no social butterfly herself at heart and so is content to share a slice of silence immediately after Ryott drops her last comment. "Thank you, then, we were at least both spared the awkwardness of me formally asking." Zsaviranth fits two of her eggs a little further into the sand and it isn't until the gold's moved that she can see Diem resting on a cot against the south wall. "Well, now that I've practiced my stealth and you aren't a candidate I do have more scribing to accomplish," silently the junior's on her feet. "Enjoy the time to yourself." Now that she's leaving!

"No problem Ma'am," Ryott replies when the woman thanks her for sparing them both. The teen has other ambitions in mind that don't include risking her hide in Threadfall. The movement on the sands catches her attention as the girl swivels her attention back there, seemingly interested now in the eggs and their golden dam now. Nasrin's imminent departure earns her a sidelong look and a bob of Ryott's head in acknowledgement, "Keep practicing…" she teases dryly, although allows for a brief and crooked grin in the goldrider's direction, "Good day weyrwoman." She adds simply before returning to her egg gazing, which is interesting in light of her previous statement about having no interest in standing, but Ryott prides herself on being an enigma. After awhile, the girl and her fair of five slip back into the shadows and take their leave to parts unknown.

"I will!" Nasrin calls back without elevating her voice too much to agitate Zsaviranth. The Weyr's newest creeper?

Add a New Comment