Who

Ulrika, Ryott

What

What do you get when you cross a former guard with a former criminal who have both donned white knots? So. Much. Suspicion!
(Now with extra creepy crawlies!!!)

Spinners….Lots of spinners….

When

It is early morning of the seventh day of the sixth month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Catacombs, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 06 Mar 2019 05:00

 

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Suspicious. That's the only word that comes to Ulrika's mind while she observes Ryott.


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Catacombs

The creaky door from the subterranean herbal garden swings open to reveal a steep staircase downwards and into the bowels of the weyr. Debris have been cleared away, yet the area is still dusty and the air stale from disuse. Cobs too are not an usual sight, they feel expected. As if they belong here. Glows have been hung near the surprisingly high ceiling, illuminating an entranceway to more of the catacombs. Pillars flank the tall opening, guarded by the watchful eyes of winged serpentine creatures. They're almost dragon-like, but not quite. And beyond them the tunnels seem quite dim. The build of the walls is smooth, the stone cut by man and not the occurrence of time and nature taking its course.


It's an early morning, but spinners wait for no man - or Candidate, for that matter. There seems to be a growing infestation of the things and the root of the cause is definitely in the catacombs somewhere. And, with all fresh, new hands at the Weyr, what better way to take care of the problem than throw Candidates at it? Ulrika's one of those dispatched to help take care of the problem, with a long-handled brush to help clear away webs and a few other items to help clean out nests and crush any escapees. Someone brought glow lanterns to help shed some light on the situation, too, but it's still an eerie place, enough to give even the stalwart guard goosebumps.

Early mornings don't seem to bother a certain Igenite candidate one bit, dark shadowy places even less. In fact, Ryott's mien is permanently drawn into one of pure adolescent boredom, but she has the fresh white knot, which stands out like a beacon among her clothes that only seem to come in shades of grey and characoal, and that means participating in the chores. Sharply dark eyes cast about in mild interest as the underground structure is revealed, a brow lifted in the most expressive display she's had all morning. Pausing when she gets to the center of the room, the short girl just stands there, quietly accessing every detail of this new environment.

It's an interesting place, all in all, but the Istan is clearly out of her element; if only because she doesn't have the usual baton at her hip. She reaches for that baton out of habit, but it's just not there. Ulrika grunts once and glances over at the shorter young woman in her grey and charcoal. She studies her briefly, then takes her own lengthy survey of the space - ill-light with sickly green glows as it is. "Definitely don't have anything like this at Ista," she remarks in a low voice, if only to keep the risk of an echo down. She advances slightly, but only to get a better look further in, squinting a little as she hunts for any larger nests worthy of being knocked down in their entirety.

Ryott takes several more beats to herself, her quiet assessment seemingly unbothered by the other candidates quickly bustling to get to work around her. She notices that scrutiny out of the corner of her eye and she notes when the woman reaches for somethign at her hip that isn't there…interesting, she certainly is giving off familiar vibes, but the girl just can't places it at the moment. When she finally seems to be satisfied, Ryott hikes her long handled brush over her shoulder and makes for the deepest shadows with purpose, her wardrobe choices coincidentally helping her blend in near seemlessly, how about that? Ulrika's comment is considered and given a much delayed reply, "We have a whole Hold underground at Igen." The girl's voice is coldly deadpan, void of all emotion, simply stating a fact.

The guard taps her baton-less hip briefly, then shifts her grip on her brush and slightly adjusts the hang of the bag that's slung cross-wise over her torso. "I might have to take a look, after all of this is said and done," Ulrika remarks, her tone equally cool and matter of fact, if still heavy with her Istan accent. This kind of thing is creepy, sure, but still fascinating. She moves more quietly than most might expect, given her size; she might be tall and muscular, but she knows how to place her feet. She falls in behind the other Candidate, using that height to her advantage - and, at the very least, she won't be blocking the view for the other young woman. She pauses briefly to stab and twist the brush into a particularly meddlesome knot of webs, but only a small handful of spinners tumbles out and they're quick to vanish into the crevices.

"Kurkar isn't for the faint of heart…" Ryott replies with the lightest touch of sarcasm, her lips curling into the ghost of a smirk before resuming their usual neutral line. The hair standing up of the back of her neck and arms alerts the girl to the guard's proximity, her brows dropping lower over her dark eyes in a subtle scowl. When the escapees from the nest Ulrika destroys scutter away, Ryott trips slightly and falls against the wall, her hand splayed out with a small grunt. Easily righting herself, her hand moves briefly to her hip to dust off under the dark wherhide jacket that falls to her knees. Picking up the brush again, she moves purposefully away from the tall woman.

"I do not anticipate that it would be," is another flat observation from the guard-Candidate, though Ulrika doesn't look directly at the other woman. She keeps her in her peripheral vision, though, and when she stumbles, the taller woman stops briefly to confirm that she's well. "Mind your step here. The stone isn't quite level." That the other is moving away a bit further is likewise noted and the blonde briefly lifts her chin before moving onward to continue poking and prodding at knots and snarls of cobwebs. Silence unspools on her part while she works, though she ever keeps the shorter woman in view, calculating and assessing all the while.

"I'm fine," is Ryott's quick reply as her shoulders tense a bit. There's something about Ulrika that is really tweaking her defensiveness but she'll carefully avoid broadcasting that with her movements. Which are strangely deliberate and mostly hidden by strategic placement of her body and convenient shadows where availably. A very sharp eye could possibly pick up on her hands often dipping in and out of her jacket and various pockets even while she continues to half-heartedly jab and poke at the spinner nests she encounters.

Suspicious. That's the only word that comes to Ulrika's mind while she observes Ryott. She might not catch all of those little motions of hers, but the guard catches enough - and adds that with the apparently half-hearted effort of clearing spinner nests. The conclusion is: this one is behaving suspiciously. Her eyes narrow just slightly, a fleeting shift in expression that's quick to return to stone-faced neutrality. But when she opens her mouth to call the shorter woman out on it, something else catches her eye: a tremendous spinnerwork of webs and egg sacs, half a dragonlength ahead, if that. It spans a healthy section of ceiling and wall, with glowlight catching on the eyes of the spinners and creating pinpricks of greenish light. The shifting light makes it look like the whole mess is pulsing, but it can't be. Can it? A low whistle escapes her and she motions with her brush stick. "Look at that, aye? I can get the ceiling, but you'll have to take care of whatever falls," she says, though there is a look to confirm that her fellow Candidate is on board with this particular plan of action.

Being suspicious of Ryott is probably a wise plan. She continues her shadiness until Ulrika's call of her discovery is given vague interest….that is until her eyes catch that pulsing webwork and she replies with a matching low whistle to Ulrika. "Wouldn't a flamethrower be a better alternative?" Kill it with fire is the only rational way to deal with that tangled living nightmare. Ryott still doesn't seem bothered though as she moves forward, her dark eyes taking in the scene with a coldly critical gaze, quietly calculating the odds that this is going to go well at all.

"Aye, it would be," Ulrika agrees. "But they didn't trust us with one for this chore." Unfortunate, really. The guard sucks her teeth as she picks out the best part to start with and, once Ryott moves forward to take her position, the taller woman nods once and begins. She presses the brush to the ceiling at an angle, guaranteeing that she won't be hit by much - if anything - of what will fall from the ceiling. While the webbing is caught, as well as some of the egg pouches, other sacs and scraps of web fall along with spinners that weren't fortunate enough to escape. It's a mess from the start, but unavoidable; the webs go deeper than they look and there are a lot more spinners than it seems. Several begin sprinting down Ulrika's brush stick, prompting a particularly vibrant string of Istan swears - though, dutiful thing that she is, she keeps sweeping and twisting to knock down what she can before the spinners actually get to her.

"Well we could…" Ryott begins, but then Ulrika decides that the time for talking is past. Ok then. Grabbing her brush, the girl holds it like a weapon and as the webs start to come down, her reflexes are sharp as she squishes and brushes and deflects the onslaught of creepy detritus even as she works at which parts she can reach on the wall section, her brow furrowed in concentration. When a particularly big spinner lands on Ryott head, she doesn't even notice, so focused she is on getting the ones in front of her taken care of first.

Why talk when work can be done? That seems to be Ulrika's best mode of operation and it's working well enough - for the most part. Though she does manage a belated: "What?" While the guard works her way to the wall - even with an army of spinners advancing on her - the mess on the floor will eventually need to be dealt with. Egg sacs pop underfoot as she advances purposefully, but quickly. Broad strokes take care of the worst of it, with smaller, quicker movements scrubbing away any difficult patches. "What are they eating?" That's the big question, hissed with emphasis through clenched teeth. "Does Igen even have spinners?" Less important, yes, but somehow relevant. She doesn't see the big spinner on Ryott, either, so she's no help there. Her arms are covered in smaller ones, a tiny swarm that just makes her skin crawl and goosebumps rise.

"Oh no, I was just going to say, my fair of firelizards could have come in with firestone instead," Ryott adds in an offhand way, but there is no turning back, they are committed now. Her own feet shuffle to deal with escaping spinners as well as the egg sacs. "Yeah, we do. And lots of other things as well." Oh look, two whole sentences out of Ryott back to back. The creeping of the spinner down the side of her face finally alerts the girl to it's presence, and after a quick glance at Ulrika to make sure she's not looking, her hand moves at lightning speed to snag the interloper before her hand disapears into her coat again. Shooting another glance at Ulrika, she sees the state of her arms and offers helpfully, "You got some on you there…" but makes no move to help instead getting back to her own portion.

"Noted," Ulrika replies, as her brush continues to work until it meets the wall. She flicks the mess away from Ryott, aiming to keep the sticky, scuttling detritus away from her fellow Candidate as much as possible. "Might be the best option if we come across another nest like this," she reasons, with a sidelong look to Ryott. She is, indeed, oblivious to the whisking away of the big spinner, though she's not so oblivious to her own situation. "Aye, just a few. They aren't biting, so it could be worse," she says with a glance to her arms and her new 'friends'. "Ceiling's done." Which leaves the wall - though, with Ryott handling that so deftly, she decides to take the opportunity to sweep her arms clean of the crawling mass and crush them under her bootheels.

Shrugging non-commitally, as Ulrika seems unperturbed by her creepy crawlies invading up her arms, Ryott goes back to her work, ably accomplishing the task of clearing off the wall section to satisfaction in hardly any time. When she's done her last round of stomping for good measure, she leans her brush against the now cleared wall and begins to meticulously pick off the bits of webbing clinging to her clothes, hair and anything else she's left exposed. Her features retain their impassive quality as she tilts her head in the direction of the much taller woman, "So Ista huh? When'd they snag you?"

Cleaning her arms means putting the brush stick down - well, leaned against the wall, as Ryott does. Once done, Ulrika goes through the process of roughly scrubbing her arms down with her callused palms, then taking another pass to pick off the webbing and other bits that ended up stuck to her. It's a thorough process, if not quite as methodical as the Igenite's. "Aye, just the other day or so," she replies with a roll of shoulders to stretch them out some. "At the Kitten, along with Roheis. You must have been one of the first ones, aye? I heard they brought in a fair number from Igen not even a day after Zymuraith clutched." She starts to offer a hand, then glances at her still web-sticky digits and settles on a salute instead. "I'm Ulrika. What's your name?"

"The Kitten? That's the tavern here, I thought you said you were from Ista.." Ryott muses absently before she leans forward and shakes her hair out vigorously while running her fingers through it. a couple smaller spinners falling out which are quickly dispatched under the heel of her boot. "Might have been, not sure," she replies with a shrug of her shoulders before finally deciding she's got the most of it. When asked so directly her name, Ryott pauses, tilting her head up in the direction of the taller woman with a eerily unblinking look. "Ryott," she finally replies simply, a note of tension in her voice as if she's not used to so easily giving her name, but having to play by different rules now.

"Aye. Transferred here with my brother a few months back," Ulrika replies. She passes her hands over her hair, but the odds of a spinner getting into her bun are practically zero; that thing is obscenely tight. She's satisfied enough with the state of things and she drops her hands, dusting them off on her trousers. "He came here to help, as they've suffered some with their losses. Figured I'd come with to help out, too." The other woman's hesitation to offer her name is noted; but, then, it is offered, and that's worth another mental note. "Well met, Ryott. You're a fine fighter against spinners." There's a crooked grin for that, friendly but fleeting. "How are you getting on here?"

Ryott nods almost automatically in response as Ulrika reveals how she'd come to be at Southern. "Ah," is the only response she'll get on that front, although careful mental notes are being taken behind unblinking dark eyes. Just then, a golden firelizard pops in from between silently above the teen's head, and wings down to land on her shoulder, extending her leg to reveal a scrap of hide attached to it. Nimble fingers make quick work of the ties but she doesn't look at the missive in proximity of Ulrika, instead stuffing it into her pocket. "I'm going to go see if I can't rustle up some firestone to make the next one easier on us," she offers as a rather transparent excuse to why she's heading towards the exit suddenly, leaving the rest of them behind without another word. Will she return to help? Probably not…

More suspiciousness is afoot, though Ulrika's expression remains unmoving and stony in its composition. Ryott might be unblinking, but the blonde is unflinching in this moment. The manifestation of a gold firelizard and her mysterious note is all filed away for now, as is the fact that the note isn't read in mixed company. The immediate pocketing of the missive is certainly worthy of study. But, while she might be inclined to question, the fact that the Igenite is already departing with such a thin excuse is enough to prompt a slight tensing of Ulrika's jaw. "Travel safely," she offers, but the words are stiffer than they might have been. And while Ryott departs, she continues onward with the scattered others that were sent down there; the nests won't clear themselves and she's not about to wait on fire that almost certainly won't come.

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