Who picnics when it's a hundred and eight degrees outside? Who eats fruit salad and drinks a bottle of wine and nothing but for dinner? The answer to both of those questions seems to be Lethea, today; the Harper is reading a book and munching her salad whilst staring off toward the lake. It's chillier up here, at least, than down in the Weyrbowl, but it's still … ridiculously hot. This has Thea trying out the new thing known as 'showing skin' (you can probably in part blame Lorawyn); she has a frilly, mid-thigh length dress and sandals on, and is occasionally throwing bits of fruit at a young bronze firelizard who jumps to try to catch them. He doesn't always do so well.

A rime-touched green makes a sharp sweep over the cliffs and touches down not far, sharp talons screeching on stone, lips peeled back from daggered maw. Her rider, a woman dressed in immaculate white leathers, slips down from her perch atop the green and approaches Lethea's repose. She tugs off riding helm and gloves as she goes. By some miracle, her hair defies the helm's press, the few wisps pulled from the tight bun, pressing prettily to cheeks bedewed with sweat. "You are not Jhitha." Dark eyes dart between the young woman and her leaping 'lizard.

"… No," Lethea manages to speak after a frozen moment of just looking, as Varvara's countenance is one to behold even without the dragon. Keeping those leathers clean must be a feat, and not having hat hair? Mystifying. Thea adjusts her glasses and squints slightly, as if she's trying to make sure she's not confused. Lycurgus takes a couple of curious steps closer to the dragon, eyes cast up. "Were you meeting someone here? I apologize if I scared them off." She's got plenty of extra fruit though!

"I only knew to seek her by name. One of the cavernsworkers directed me here." A look of purse-lipped disappointment flickers briefly as Varvara retools her expectations, "My pardon," she places a hand at her clavicle, "I am the one disturbing you." She smiles at the firelizards antics. Valkyrinth turns her fierce regard upon the tiny lizard, rumbling low. "I always did enjoy the view from here." She turns to take advantage of the vista.

It's a shy smile, but it's a smile from Lethea nonetheless, as she pushes fallen hair from her face to offer it. "You're not disturbing me at all. I don't actually like being alone much," coming from someone who wanders the reaches of the Southern jungle and miraculously doesn't die — though she comes up scratched a lot — by herself. From someone who used to be great at making friends and now … isn't as much as she once was. "And I have plenty more fruit than I think I'm going to eat, if you'd like a bite?" Lycurgus chirps, but it's not at the fruit anymore, just at Valkyrinth. Hi, GIANT GREEN.

She lifts a hand just as Valkyrinth moves, elegant fingers stroking the green's muzzle. GIANT GREEN gives a rumble of approval for the bold little flit. "She likes him. This is Valkyrinth," Varvara turns her face to the grim green's head, fondness in her expression, "I am Varvara and I welcome your offer." She inclines her head graciously, "Thank you…" she smiles, blinking politely for the other woman's name.

"Thea," says the woman attached to the name, never finding any reason to include that first syllable. No one who actually knows her ever uses it; it's a name left for formality, Journeyman Lethea. This is just Thea, some lady who is picnicking in stifling hot weather. "And Lycurgus. He's very social." Thea pushes the fruit basket just a little Varvara-wards; there's still plenty of space open on her blanket.

With the utterance of Lethea's name, realization dawns, "Ah. I see what happened. Jhitha. Thea. It's not a stretch in the kitchen's din. It seems I was sent to meet you after all, Thea-not-Jhitha. And Lycurgus," She gives the bold little bronze an inclination of her head and folds into cross-legged repose, leaning forward to choose and pluck some of the proferred fruit, "Thank you." She takes a deep breath, echoed by Valkyrinth as the green settles, talons digging furrows into the turf as she continues to study little Lycurgus. "She enjoys the bold ones." Even now, Lycurgus may be getting an image of where Valkyrinth has an itch. Just behind her leg-shoulder, tailward of her shoulder wing-joint. Her wingpit. The green lifts her wing a bit. A bit of juice dribbles and she leans forward reflexively, eyes seeking a napkin, eyes widened, surprised, trying not to smile and make it worse. Ohnoes! White leathers!

"So, so," Lethea makes a rolling hand gesture for a second, before stealing herself another … it's a strawberry, however Pern chooses to call it. "You were sent after the person who took all the fruit? I tried not to make it inaccessible for everyone." That, or she was looking for a Harper. Or just wanted the book Thea's reading, one which was written by her trashy romance writing friend of course. Silently, Thea hands over a napkin with the sort of urgency that belies she knows exactly the issue. Those leathers appear sacred. Lycurgus, well, he's a nice guy who is happy to help and finds the right spot to cautiously scrape a forepaw. Like this?

Varvara takes the napkin gratefully and sops delicately before making an inspection of her leathers. WHEW. All clear. That was close! She pops the remainder of the fruit now sized for decorous chewing and gives Lethea a furrowed look. Chewing still. "Mmm." Dark eyes roll upward, with appreciation. "Oh, I do miss good fruit. Dates are lovely, but," she traces the basket with fondness, "The variety here. It's unmatched." She clears her throat primly, "Are you telling me that this fruit is purloined?" So… she's apparently not here to chase down the fruit bandit.

"It's — borrowed?" There is not an easy way to say 'I took it but I didn't steal it,' is there. Lethea looks overly thoughtful, the squint returning. "I did not specifically ask permission from the kitchen staff to take it, but I was assured that it was public access fruit, so to speak." She just took, like, an entire third of it which was probably way too much for one person. Having a second makes it a little better.

Varvara's laughter is sudden music, "I think they won't want this back." She persues the basket and selects a plump stonefruit, "This was all for you?" Oh dear! Varvara's hand drifts to her belly, imagining the price of consuming so much fruit. Valkyrinth's croon sounds as Lycurgus finds just the spot. "'So to speak?'" Varvara bites into the stonefruit and blushes a bit at the loud slurp, dark eyes glittering. She wipes her face and fingers, letting the fruit loll, wrist on her knee. "Thea, dear. With conviction. Repeat after me," Brows lift, gentle arcs, expectant, "'This fruit wasn't gathered to sit prettily in a bowl! It's meant to eat!'"

Holder raised, Harper trained, Lethea is actually an impressively good mimic; if she has a bit of Varvara's accent when she repeats her statement as well as her conviction, well. Singing may not have been her chosen field, but enunciation is very important in arbitration. "And therefore," she adds, after reasserting that fruit is meant to eat, "if no one else was appearing to consume it, it was in the fruit's best interest that I intervene. Also, I was going to share it with anyone I ran into, Lycurgus and Pythagoras," The creature attached to that second name is not present, "But I was advised by a beasthealer not to give any to my dog. Taking that into consideration, it still seemed to be better for the fruit that it not be left to fester."

Varvara smiles at the mimicry and more as Lethea expands on the idea. "Just so!" She tips her head at the mention of a dog, "Our hounds never cared much for fruit. A good thing, I see!" She takes another squelchy bite of the stonefruit, eyes crinkling at the noise. She smiles, dimpling prettily, at Lethea and turning her face to the scant breeze that brings a bit of relief. Several bites, increasingly less squelchy as the pit is slowly revealed, render the fruit finished. "Lycurgus," Varvara lifts a finger and gives her head a shake, "This is not to eat." Firm. With that she tosses the pit away. Maybe it'll grow! The two women share the respite of breeze and company, but before long Varvara begins taking her leave. "I'm afraid I do want to find Jhitha before I return home. Thank you, Thea. This has been lovely." Valkyrinth surges to her feet, "A good day to you both."

That command does not stop Lycurgus from chasing, but it does stop him from actually attaching himself to it or eating it — he simply stops where the pit lands, chirps happily and returns to perching upon Valkyrinth where she allows. But — wait, leaving. That means he has to move, and while he is well-trained and does so when Thea beckons him, there's a little bit of a sulk to the bronze's flapping. That is possible, of course. Don't think about it too hard. "Thank you for joining us," the Harper replies in kind, grinning as she reclaims her firelizard in her lap. He's sitting on the book now. He's gonna read it. "I suspect my firelizard may yet find your dragon again." It's a warning, not a threat, she promises; and if Thea doesn't get back to her office until morning time, well, there was a basket of fruit and a book, and who can possibly blame her.