Who

Divale, Vosji, Zavyr

What

Divale meant to find Zavyr, but found Vosji as well and half-spoken and strange conversations ensue…

When

It is afternoon of the seventh day of the twelfth month of the ninth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Underground Lake, Kurkar Hold

OOC Date 15 Jan 2017 05:00

 

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Underground Lake

With no wind to rustle its surface, the lake under the earth is as glass and every bit as clear. Fed by aquifers, its level remains consistently predictable. Far from existing in only a solid body of water, the lake invades several chambers, vanishes even further underground, only to reappear in a different zone. Depth varies to a few inches to a hundred feet or more as it follows even more ancient courses into the multi-colored bedrock. Sound readily carries over the slate-smooth water, internally enhanced by the confine of rock all around. Slim, lightweight boats, most large enough for only one person, are in modest abundance. Stitched with animal hide, they're used for fishing, racing, and exploring the cave's massive inner depths.


The interior temperature of the cave is a fairly cool one, but without much in the way of variation this deep in, and especially over the water that flows through here. There's a number of the small boats here, though since the place was opened up, there's also someone who now has a job keeping them chained, locked. And that someone isn't around, but a figure none-the-less floats on a boat, settled into it, with the boat itself secured to a bit of rock rising out of the flat lake's surface. A glow-light illuminates the hull of the boat, but not necessarily the occupant. On the prow is settled a bronze lizard and a tiny gold. The green, like her namesake, is not present.

Vosji has never been down here before, and has been intelligent enough to bring a small lantern as she really expects to get lost. She is also carrying her bow and arrow, because she's intelligent enough for that, too, and hears lots of stories about people coming down into Kurkar Hold and dying. Being murdered. Set on fire. Lots of other things that she doesn't want anything to do with, and maybe it's just wiser to be armed. Her footfalls are soft but definitely audible, and she stops to give the boats a curious look-over. "What do you think of that," is muttered, sotto vocce, because all of this is Iskanzivoth's doing anyway. He is making her wander around underground and look at water, because, as he protested, there was absolutely no way he could do this one himself. He is, however, satisfied between the sight of boats and the sight of that metallic firelizard duo.

It’s true that the Underground provides some shelter from the plummeting temperatures outside but that’s not the reason why Divale ventures here. She has business to oversee; some of which is good and some of which she will not speak of. Having dealt with the shadier dealings first, she’s venturing now towards the lake. The lake she frequented often not-so long ago in a much different time. Nostalgia will wait for another day. Eidolon has resumed his sentinel duty in checking in with one particular pale-haired individual and it’s on his recent return that the brownrider has figured out just where to go. What she isn’t expecting, is to find an Igen bluerider on the shoreline too. “Haven’t been here before, have you?” she quietly murmurs, after making her approach loud enough by her footsteps so as not to sneak up accidentally on the woman. She will glance out to where Zavyr’s glowlight is visible and those two metallic firelizards, brows furrowing.

Valor, the little bronze, launches from the boat, quickly followed by young Joy. The boat rocks and Zavyr's attention rises slowly out of whatever thoughts she'd been engaged in, to slant a look toward shore. There, someone has placed glows in newly-installed glowbaskets. The new management at least has decided that the basic pathways should be better lit and perhaps fewer new residents will disappear into the depths of the place, never to be seen again. So Zavyr no doubt sees who stands at the lakeshore. And she can guess why. Reaching down, Zavyr unhooks the rope from the stone outcropping and lets the boat begin to drift. Another moment and she has an oar in hand, and with long practice, skims the boat somewhat against its natural direction, angled toward the shore.

There's one thing Vosji has on Divale, at the moment, and that's definitely knowing who the brownrider is; she recognizes the lifemate of the current clutch on the sands. It would be pretty impossible not to, with Iskanzivoth's baritone whisper at her mental ears. "No," she answers honestly, keeping her voice similarly toned to Divale; thankfully she didn't startle, this time. "I hadn't really intended to be, either, but when the one who actually wants to be is a little large to fit down the entrance I'm not left with much of an option." A slow, amused shake of the head; a 'you get it' between dragonriders even if there's a possibility the younger rider doesn't. "It's much nicer an experience than I was expecting." She is not wearing her knot, which may or may not be saving her anything.

Lukoith won’t be so kind as to share who Vosji is to Divale. He’s well aware of Iskanzivoth, given the blue’s behaviour about the clutch and something tolerated by the brown now that he’s more or less indifferent over the hardening eggs. Oh, he checks in but he’s no where near as broody as Zsaviranth or some sires can be. Which is why he is here and so is his rider, without issue. “Ahh. So it’s a matter of exploration for some peace of mind, then?” Divale’s mouth curves into a vague semblance of amusement, though it colors enough of her voice as well. She does understand, to a degree, what is being hinted at. “What have you seen so far? I’d not recommend that you go too deep. I’m sure you’ve heard the warnings?” And all the stories. If she’s noticed the lack of knot, Divale says little. She will not judge… as her own is not visible either. She won’t tell if Vosji doesn’t tell? Eidolon will follow on silent wings as Zavyr’s boat begins to angle towards shore.

The lighted hull bumps up to the shore and the lean figure leaps lightly, rope in hand to finish hauling it up onto the beach. Both Valor and Joy whip by the little brown, as if trying to lure him away from his predatory behavior without being outright hostile. Zavyr reaches to pick up the glow out of the hull of the boat, then, and pads over to replace it in one of the glow sconces. Only then, will she finally wend her way over toward Divale. The woman, dressed as a lad in stained and threadbare clothing, has only a belt and cheap knife, and boots, as anything displayed of value. Her hands are empty and she's been sevens without her staff that once could be considered an extra appendage. Soft-soled boots take a known path though veer away from an area that once pooled with a dead man's blood, before Zavyr reports quietly to the pair, her regard only flickering over their features before she turns to look at the boat she'd left on the beach.

Iskanzivoth probably considers Lukoith a kind and sensible gentleman, because that's the kind of dragon he is. Vosji hasn't asked. "I came armed," she says with a nod, and then can't resist adding, "I usually have two of them, but I brought extra reinforcements." That pun often goes right over people's heads, but if Divale looks at the impish dimpled smile on her face, it's probably more obvious that it was one. "I ate some really interesting food, tried not to fall into a gaping death hole, and now I'm where he wanted - water. Boats." The approaching Zavyr is on the receiving end of another curious smile.

Lukoith IS a kind and sensible gentleman! … on the outside. Iskanzivoth would probably be scandalized and horrified if he ever sees the beast beneath the facade or his true aspirations. Alas. It suits the brown to keep up the falsehood for now. “I can see that,” Divale nods a bit to the bow Vosji carries, only to blink at the… pun? There’s a dry, dry chuckle but she only shakes her head. Sorry, she’s in a sobered mood. “Never could grasp those things. Crossbows aren’t half bad but knives?” There’s a slight pat to her side though her jacket seems to conceal whatever blades she spots. Preferred! At the mention of food, there’s a wistful sigh. “If only I could trust food of late,” she alludes to the rumoured poisonings hitting Parhelion. “Please do not fall into gaping death holes. So I take it you saw the Maw?” Catching movement, Divale’s attention will waver from the bluerider to settle on Zavyr and there’s a small, almost tentative smile, from her. “Hello, Fool. I was hoping to come across you here.”

Vosji gets a return nod for the smile, but Zavyr inclines her head to Divale. "Puzzle. Figured. And here I am." Just murmured. Zavyr's eyes skitter over Divale for a split second as well, but she subsides quickly again as if to not interrupt the ongoing conversation. If she caught Vosji's word-play, she doesn't seem to make any sign of it.

"Is that what it's called? Yes, I think that will be the one and only time I see it." Vosji likely nearly fell into it, and has no dreams of trying again. "If you'd like lessons with bows, though, I'll be teaching weyrlings again and can always welcome others — " Not that a seasoned-ish wingrider would want to take classes with the weyrlings, but she can offer! She's not moving to exclude Zavyr at all, body language welcoming, but not offering an introduction, either.

Divale chuckles again, low and quiet. “That’s the reaction of most when they see the Maw,” she muses to Vosji. No judgment there. She shakes her head, “As kind of you it is to offer that, if you saw how terrible I am wielding that particular weapon, you’d instantly regret me being a part of any class.” Nor would she have the time, but she goes for the more amusing remark. “Assistant Weyrlingmaster, then?” There’s a knowing smile, as she’s forced to assume due to the lack of knot pinned to the woman’s shoulder. Glancing to Zavyr, she’ll quirk a brow for the greeting but keep her expression neutral. “I wasn’t sure if you’d moved here yet with the winter settled in. I had wanted to ask you if you’d seen anything unusual of late in the Bazaar but if you’ve been here…” So much for that.

"I was out by the lake," Zavyr answers Divale's question, "For about a seven. Then came here." She doesn't address Divale with any honorific, no 'sir' or 'ma'am' or 'rider', and the nickname was certainly different. "I need to get to Igen Hold sometime. Talk to… Talk. Tell … The family. And then…Don't know. There's trouble at Southern Weyr, but I've been directed not to come, or it'd get worse. So. Here I am." Lots of words, those. Zavyr glances at Vosji again, mute apology for either interrupting the AWLM's conversation with Divale, or ignoring her in her own conversation with the brownrider, or both.

Good job keeping your title relatively anonymous until you came out and said something that revealed it, Vosji. Her smile turns self-deprecating, just a little, but she nods. "Yeah, mine's the blue always on the gallery ledges. I'm the new one." The Istan, sent in carrying rank higher than a considerable number of dragonriders at the Weyr. There's probably some resentment, though not likely amongst Divale's wing. She's just listening to Zavyr, then, trying to offer friendly silence back in return. Nothing to apologize for here, just two conversations going on at once … "Southern usually has trouble, I hear, but Igen has plenty of her own."

And Divale is too new among the ranks to hold any resentment or much of an opinion. What little she’s witnessed so far of Vosji has the bluerider currently in her favour, as the woman has done nothing to warrant her ire or her suspicions. Just a healthy dose of wary caution! “Then he must be the one Lukoith’s always alluding to,” she murmurs and nods her head slightly as if that were acceptable as an introduction. “Then it’s safe to assume that all areas have their current issues?” Divale’s gaze flicks between Vosji and Zavyr then for her dry humour, before she sobers and turns to the other matters the young woman has brought up. “I can help you, in regards to Igen Hold. Myself, if time allows or… another, if you have no preference. I’ll assume Southern is personal matters too?” Because if so? She may not pry much farther. Though strangely, she does add: “It is good to see you, regardless.”

"My aunt was arrested, likely due to something I did." Zavyr answers the business of Southern Weyr. "And I'd go and turn myself in, and volunteered to do so, to her lover, but he advised me not to. And he holds no love for me, so I must assume that he is true in what he says." She lifts and drops a shoulder. "Perhaps he could not read my writing, well." That's spoken but not with conviction; D'ean responded fairly accurately and may have been able to puzzle out Zavyr's missives. Though Zavyr's clothes are stained, she does not stink, nor is she covered with the filth that she'd been, in the Bazaar. At Divale's last sentiment, Zavyr shakes her head slightly, "You are a forgiving soul, Puzzle." Finally, to Vosji, "Ma'am."

"Hello," Vosji says politely, allowing herself to be folded into conversing at just the right time, or so it seems. "You'd be right, yes, everywhere has their problems. In terms of rider shortages, though, some more than others." She presses her lips together for a moment, then opens them again to try a little more politeness. Like a real introduction. "I'm Vosji, Iskanzivoth's." He has a color, of course, but she never remembers to give it. "I'll pretend I didn't hear any of this, I think that's probably the best course of action in my case."

Divale frowns, “Your aunt…? So you did find some relatives?” Her tone is a strange one of mixed surprise and curiosity, but oddly restrained. Like she’s afraid to show too much emotion, reverting back to her previous quirks and behaviours. “Whether or not he thinks highly of you, perhaps heeding his caution is wise. Despite the temptations.” And she may have an idea what they may be but does not voice them. Instead, her mouth quirks up into a faint, wry smirk. “Forgiving only to you, Fool.” she counters, then to Vosji, she grimaces. “It’s true, the numbers still have not balanced out. Any help, I’m sure, is appreciated?” There’s a shake of her head again and another quiet chuckle. “You’re in no danger here, Vosji.” And if Zavyr is willing to talk a little? Divale will share her dose of ‘not-good’ news. “Lost was arrested awhile ago. The thefts continue but she refuses to defend herself. I’m… trying to have her charges overturned. Which is why I wanted to speak to you. To see if you’d seen anything unusual… I suppose before you left?”

"Fool." Zavyr returns to Vosji. "That's me. My name. Fool. Just Fool." Lest the AWLM think that Zavyr was insulting her. To the assurance, Zavyr intones with a shake of her head, "Matters not, Ma'am, if you've heard or not." To whit, the Fool doesn't seem to care much about consequences that might come of that information getting out. At Divale's revealation about Ypsilani, Zavyr's features take on a slightly pained mein, and she shakes her head, "Stuff showed up in her place, that she did not recognize, but she is not right in the head, Puzzle. But she's right enough to have figured me out. In my gut, I am sure she is not doing that. That's why I-" But the words stop. Zavyr considers, finally her study attaching to Divale's features for longer than a glancing moment, "If you want me to go back there…I could. But I have to have warmer clothes. My bag is in the dragonhealer's infimary. L-" Zavyr shakes her head then, stalling out before intoning, "I'm given to understand there's some coin sewn in the lining. For emergency." Her head drops again and Zavyr takes a deep breath before turning to pace over to the cavern wall, again evading that section of stone automatically, before coming back to rejoin the two, marginally more composed.

The name is recorded, even if Vosji doubts Zavyr was named that at birth; she doesn't seem insulted, either way. "It didn't seem to be my business, is, all," she says, but it's still with a good-natured expression and a little bit of shrug. No authority held here, just an attempt to navigate social grace in a place that is really not as militaristic as Vosji has always been used to. All of Igen's a little strange, but down here seems to be winning the prize. "Please don't freeze to death in the bazaar, no," she thinks to suggest belatedly, almost looking as if she is going to offer something else and then failing to complete the sentence at the last minute.

“I’ve the same feeling, Fool. That she is innocent and someone has set her up,” Divale had a brief moment of regret in seeing the slightly pained expression on Zavyr, but nothing compares to when the young woman has to wander off for a moment to compose herself at the mere mention of the bag left in the infirmary. She has a feeling something was left unsaid about Ypsilani but she won’t press her for more. Not right now. “I’ll echo Vosji in saying I’d prefer that you do not freeze.” Another faintly wry smirk and then she’s lowering her head slightly, almost unseen. A strange look briefly comes to her eyes but Vosji would recognize it as nothing more than a rider privately conversing with their dragon. Sure enough, Divale blinks and levels Zavyr with a heavy and thoughtful stare. “You might not require coin. I would prefer if you do return,” For several reasons and chiefly that Kurkar Hold is not the safest of places still. But is anywhere truly safe? “But through another means.”

"You're part of the Weyr, ma'am?" This, to Vosji, "Seems to me that the Bazaar has a way of becoming everyone's business. And I'm back here, so I don't freeze to death." An aside to Divale, "No Hotpants yet." Just a sort of bit of news there, before Zavyr narrows her regard to Divale. "What? I promised him that I would not steal anymore." Spoken with some heat, "And I've not broken that promise yet, Puzzle. Unless the Weyr has taken to hiring thieves and it's justified as their business, and I'm on the payroll… Or did Ohm-nom-nom send you to call in a favor?"

Without the context, Vosji assumes that Hot Pants are a sort of clothing item they're talking about. Since that was the topic. Other than that, she is just watching the conversation go by in the way of someone who is remaining as engaged as she can without knowing what's going on around her. It seemed wrong to walk away, or excuse herself, especially as they were talking to her also — and at the same time she had no idea what was going on. An interesting little picture. "I'm one of the weyrlingstaff, yes," Vosji admits, her look a little bit proud. It's not exactly a new position, but it's an honorable one.

“Good.” Divale’s no fool and knows it’s only a matter of time before Hotpants does resurface. If only it were a fashion item and not something far more deadly than just poor taste in clothing. “And I’m not implying you steal, Zavyr. Just that… I may have another offer for you.” She’s just not sure what, but her time has grown short and she’s being reminded that they are due back in the Weyr. “You know that I am not in good standing with Ohm-nom-nom. Consider what I said, but I must go. I’ll be back another time. Tomorrow, latest.” It sounds like a vague promise. To Vosji, the brownrider dips her head respectfully. “Well met, Vosji. Next time you wish to explore? I’d be glad to help you with that.” Even if it’s eerie for her to be a guide. Again. Taking a step back, she will glance to Zavyr again, “Be well, Fool. You know where to find me.” Or at least, how to contact her. Turning away, she’ll quietly walk away down one of the various paths.

"Clear skies, Puzzle." A nod to her and a vague salute to Vosji, before Zavyr turns to fade back into the shadows, heading, no doubt to the crypt where she makes her home.

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