Who

Igraine, Zarrah

What

Zarrah has a crises of heart over a dinner-destined duck and Igraine helps her resolve it.

When

It is early morning of the twentieth day of the second month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Stables, Central Bowl (Igen Weyr) and Crater Lake (Igen)

OOC Date 16 Feb 2016 05:00

 

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Stables, Igen Weyr

The powerful odor of hot runner lies heavy in the air here, and even the relative open of the stable design - roomy stalls, lofty arches, this is incongruously one of the best designed buildings in the entire Weyr, legacy of a long-ago Weyrleader of Herder origins - cannot altogether dispel the stink of Animal. The Stables serve for the Weyr's population of runners, and house a small menagerie of other creatures. Avians, caprines and porcines all have their homes here, and all add to the earthy feel of the place.


Characters

Igraine
There is an elvish quality to Igraine, her lithe frame and lean, salient features seemingly cut and carved from alabaster. There's an equine quality to the length of her face, though it is not unlovely, with high cheekbones and thin, cupid's-bow lips. Fine, wavy hair bears the blue-black sheen of raven's wings, the deep azure edge becoming more apparent in the gleam of Rukbat's rays. Wise brown eyes are constantly moving, taking in everything around her with keen interest and attention to detail. Her tall, fit figure boasts small breasts and wide hips, while small, dexterous hands never seem to move without purpose, deceptively still when unoccupied.
Igraine is dressed in a hunter's green set of tight leggings with a billowing olive toned tunic and a brown leather vest. She wears serviceable black boots and a utilitarian belt with several belt pouches attached. She is devoid of jewelry and has the smell of an apothecary about her. She is a young adult of about 23.

Zarrah
Zarrah is a bundle of spitfire wrapped in velvet. Soft waves of deep henna drift down below her shoulders, varying in hue from brandy highlights to shadows of ebony. Dark eyes flecked with the same rich shades as her hair are keenly soulful, aged beyond her turns by the realities of a harsh life, yet the spark of impetuous youth limns the edges of pretty features, bringing an easy smile to full lips. She walks with a sway of confidence to slender hips, blissfully undeterred by her 5'2 stature and petite, shapely frame. A wide band of hide is always worn on her right wrist. She bears a strong resemblance both in looks and demeanor to her twin, Zhaine.
Plain but functional describes Zarrah's attire; comfortable materials that show plenty of wear but are neat and clean. Oddly, her shirt is more the style of a man's with three-quarter sleeves and a button-lined front that goes all the way up close to a slender neck. It's tucked into a thick brown skirt that's a bit too big on slim waist and hips, secured by a rope belt. Second-hand sandals cover her feet. She is a young adult of about 22.


Log

It’s rather early but there’s still a fair amount of activity around the stables with stable hands caring for the runners in residence and getting started on their daily chores. The muted sounds of male voices mingles with the whinny of runners and scuffle of shovel and hoof on the board floors of the building.

A strong musky scent permeates the air along with the drifting particles of dust and straw, stirred by all the activity. The sun is shining bright outside and its rays cast sharp shadows as they slant across the interior of the stables.

An odd figure occupies one of those shadows in particular, a dark cloak of deep green hiding details of appearance and gender. The figure is rather misshapen, form made of large, oddly placed lumps rather than a normal shape. Movements are awkward, not at all conducive to blending into their surroundings. As if to point that out, one slender hand appears, small wrist and slender fingers at odds with the rest of their frame as it reaches for some rope hanging on a peg along the wall.

Runners are one of Igraine's favorite animals, but she likes to enjoy them alone. So, she's taken to visiting the weyr runners late at night, when no one is about. She hides in the rafters until everyone is gone and then visits with the beasts in quiet communion. She'd stayed too late last night, and had fallen asleep in the stall of a gorgeous roan gelding. She slumbers there still, on a bed of straw, idly watched over by the gentle beast, who chews on his morning feed.

Slowly the din of morning sounds starts to leak into Igraine's peaceful slumber and she stirs, stretching. She sits up, scritching at her scalp, one arm in the air in a stretch as she yawns. Her hand comes into contact with straw and she plucks it from her hair. Igraine blearily opens one eye, and then the other, and when they focus, the roan's muzzle is right in her face, the sounds of his contented chewing filtering in at last.

Igraine starts almost forcefully, yet somehow, silently, her heart hammering in her chest. But slowly, she remembers this being the last runner she'd visited, and she'd found his presence calming, had talked quietly to him in the dark. The sounds of stable hands have her heart kicking it up a notch. Shards and shells!!!! She'd slept too late!!!

The ring of rope is slowly removed and tucked beneath the mysterious person’s cloak, a bit of juggling occurring along with some very odd squawking noises. Just then two young boys, stablehands, come toward the front of the stalls chatting and each carrying various tools. The cloaked figure jerks and stiffens, face hidden within the folds of a hood as her head turns toward the approaching boys then makes a quick survey. Moving backward a few steps she turns and runs a hand along the stalls, finding a latch and unfastening it. Opening it as little as possible she slips through, having just a bit of trouble, and once inside closes the door again and hunkers down into the corner.

So concentrated is she on the approaching boys that Zarrah doesn’t pay attention to what’s IN the stall. A runner? Certainly. But she’s used to runners. No time to notice that this one is a particularly gorgeous roan gelding. Finding a crack in the boards she peers through, biting her lip against quickened breath.

Igraine goes as still as death when the stall door clicks open. It's a good thing the roan is there to shield her because Igraine might have to do something drastic otherwise. But it's a young girl who slips into the stall and doesn't notice Igraine. Igraine picks a few more pieces of straw from her hair and peers around the roan.

The sounds of the boys pass and this section of the stables becomes quiet once more. Igraine waits until only the sounds of the runners can be heard before she speaks. "Is it customary for the Igenese to barge in on someone when they're only first waking up?" She asks standing, rustling some of the straw bits out of her hair.

Igraine moves around the roan with a sleek grace known only to a very select few Zingari, and that she is indeed Zingari can be proven by the knot that hangs at her shoulder.

Zarrah is just beginning to rise when Igraine speaks, the unexpected sound of a voice behind her startling the young woman half out of her wits. With a pitched yelp she snaps aright and a very odd thing happens. Her torso appears to suddenly expand and jerk back and forth beneath her cloak with frantic motions for several moments. The hood of her cloak falls back as she struggles to contain herself, bumping back against the wall of the stall. With one strange and loud squawk her possessed cloak subsides.

Breathless, she finally focuses on the other woman and pretty features scrunch darkly. “What are you doing in here?” she demands, her tone confident in her right to ask even if her voice is pitched in a low, hissed whisper.

Igraine watches the following sequence of events with a look of snarky amusement on her sylph like features. She crosses her arms under her breasts and leans against the wall, almost giggling when the squawks come from the cloak. Almost.

"Not stealing fowl from the weyr, like you." Igraine gives a dark little smile to the girl in front of her. She pushes herself off the wall and comes the rest of the way around the runner in the stall, who still, just chews his breakfast, one docile eye on both the girls, ears pricked forward at the sound of their voices.

Igraine takes a poking jab at the girl's cloak to emphasise her point.

Zarrah’s expression floods with affronted guilt for all of two seconds before she pulls a veil of innocence across it, dark eyes wide beneath thick lashes that flutter several times. But then the other woman is approaching and Zarrah backs up against the stall wall again, turning slightly and exclaiming as the trader takes a jab at her.

“Don’t!” she orders sharply. Too late. Her abrupt movement has jostled her burden again and the struggles beneath her cloak resume. This time she loses her hold on it, however, and without warning a good size duck falls to the floor at her feet with a solid thud. Feathers and straw fly as wings frantically beat at the floor, the animal squawking loudly. Zarrah drops to her knees to try and catch it but arms grasp at it with attempts half-blinded by the fluttering fuss.

Ah! But Igraine is trained for this, that affronted guilt, doesn't escape her notice. And the solid thud of the duck hitting the floor just proves her theory. However, any smart alec rhetoric she was about to throw Zarrah's ways is swallowed by the fact that their roan stall mate is taking offence to the quacking nuisance in his stall. He snorts heavily, eyes rolling as he makes a warning noise and stamps his hoof.

"You best catch that winged menace before this runner decides to evict us all in a most painful way…." Igraine eases her way to the roan's head, clucking and whickering softly at him. Good thing this roan is docile already, or they'd really be having a hard time. But he won't tolerate this mess long.

Zarrah growls in frustration as the slippery duck evades her attempts at catching it. “I. Am. Trying!” she hisses when Igraine offers advice. She doesn’t miss the runner’s growing anxiety either and knows that in this small of a space that would definitely be a very bad thing. Not to mention the noise the duck is making is sure to draw attention if it doesn’t stop.

“Calm DOWN!” she grumbles, making one quick grab. It works and she catches the bird, pulling it into the crook of her knees and leaning over it. Shushing softly she closes a hand over its beak while smoothing a hand down it’s long neck, slowly easing wings back to its side.

Finally the bird is settled and Zarrah looks up, shadows and the sweep of long hair making her dark eyes even harder to read. “I didn’t steal it,” she informs the other woman. “I’m freeing it.”

Igraine is impressed with how quickly the girl catches the avian. She gets the roan settled and pets at his snout. "You're a good boy…." She croons at the roan for a moment more before stepping back around to face the savior of the fowl. "Freeing….stealing….same difference." Igraine tosses the girl a wink.

She leans back against the stall wall and crosses her arms. "And you do not think the weyr will notice one of their fowl gone Reika girl?" Igraine asks. Oh yes, she'd gotten enough of a look at Zarrah to recognize her from the Reika ranks. Igraine watches everything her eye more keen than S'ayde's even. She'd always been better with the minute details than her male counterpart.

“Technicality,” Zarrah clarifies. Remaining on her knees she continues to calm the duck, eventually releasing its bill when it seems safe. She is glad the other woman is able to calm the runner, at least, even if those dark eyes of hers are WAY too observant. When she pins Zarrah with the clan’s title her chin jerks up and lips purse into a straight line.

“I couldn’t leave him,” she says with heat in her tone. “They were going to cook him for dinner tonight.” Getting attached to the fowl had been a big mistake, but not one that the soft-hearted girl had planned. Jaw set, she breathes out through her nose, eyeing the woman askance. Zingari by her knot. Two can note details. She hasn’t been with the traders long enough to judge the other woman’s intent, however. “Are you going to tell them?” she asks, words slightly clipped as she expects an unwelcome answer.

“Oh, couldn’t? Or Wouldn’t?” Igraine lifts a brow. “I guess it matters not.” She eyes the girl’s handling of the duck with a silent shake of her head. “They’re meant to be food you know!” Zarrah’s clipped question has Igraine laughing and she leans down, hands on her thighs as she looks at Zarrah, her eyes dancing with amusement.

“Now why should I care if one of the weyr’s fowl goes astray?” Her voice is level, though it’s decibel is lowered. “I don’t really, but now that you’ve discovered me here, we both need to get out and I cannot be seen with you if you choose to carry out this scheme, for you are noisy…and obvious.” The last word is a hiss. “I could have gotten out undetected if it’d been just me…” Igraine quirks a brow. “So how do you suppose we get out? Hmm?”

“I know,” Zarrah grumbles concerning the duck being food. One hand strokes the animal’s long neck. It squawks once but remains calm. At the other woman’s laughter Zarrah frowns, full lips pursing slightly. It was a spontaneous, silly decision and she knows it but that doesn’t diminish an injured sense of pride. The assertion that it’s just one duck amongst many dissolves on her tongue as Igraine makes the same point, albeit from a different perspective. But then the woman is calling her noisy and obvious and the young woman’s chin rises in offense. One hand frees itself to gesture at the runner.

“You seem on good terms with that one. I say we ride out of here, find a place to set the duck free, then come back. Or I’ll come back with the runner if you have somewhere else to be. I can handle it. I’m rather good with animals.” On cue the duck fusses again, wings flapping in her face. It makes a leap from her lap and straight at the trader.

Igraine raises an eyebrow at the prospect of going out on the roan. "I may be friendly with this one, but he isn't mine… and I'm not sure he's one of the ones meant for public use…." She pats the roan's side. "He's to fine a beastie for that."

Igraine turns back to finish speaking and Zarrah's duck is headed straight for her. any other woman would have shrieked, possibly covered her face. But not Igraine. Oh, no. Igraine captures the fowl with ease, pinning it under one arm while her free hand deftly clamps over the creature's beak. "Nice try, you." She says through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure you want to go through all this trouble child? Seems like this'n could do to be dinner. Naughty bird." Igraine peeks over the stall wall to find a completely empty path to the doors and escape. 'How quick can you run in those skirts Reika girl?"

A lopsided frown pulls across Zarrah’s lips at Igraine’s assessment of the roan. Of course. That would have just been too convenient.

Then the duck is launching free and Zarrah barely smothers a yelp as she reaches for it, her fingers grazing webbed feet as it pushes off her lap like a firelizard taking flight. Two seconds later she isn’t sure which she’s more annoyed at: the duck for trying to escape or the ease with which the woman caught it!

The duck isn’t too happy about it either. It squiggles vigorously and squawks non-stop (though those are muffled) for several more moments before finally calming down.

Zarrah stands and adjusts her cloak, straightening the fall of it across her shoulders. “It’s just scared,” she insists, taking a step forward as if to retrieve the bird from the older woman. But then she’s suggesting they run for it and Zarrah shakes her head.

“Fast enough,” she replies, unable to resist making that clear before protesting, “Running won’t do though. I have to get outside the weyr far enough and back again as quickly as possible. I need a runner.”

Igraine growls and turns around with a sigh, normally this would be against her better judgement, but she needs out without being detected and so does Zarrah. "Or you need a spy. Would you just shut up and trust me? I can get us out of here fast enough and without all the attention you'll draw."

Igraine ventures to trust the duck enough to let loose her clamp on his beak. He stays quiet. She pulls a dark silky scarf from her back pocket and wraps it over the ducks eyes and beak, making sure the animal can breathe. Then, standing, with a completely subdued duck. She peeks over the stall wall again, and the coast is still clear, but it won't stay that way. "Now, when I say go…" Igraine says, silently flipping the latch upon the stall. "You go right?" And then, checking one last time, Igraine slides the stall door open a fraction and says "GO!" and books it for the door in record speeds, leaving Zarrah not much of a choice but to follow.

Zarrah grumbles under her breath at the plan Igraine presents. Trust? She found the woman hiding in a stall, was called noisy and obvious, and now the woman is stealing HER duck! What choice does she have? Quickly threading fingers through her dark hair she tucks it back and yanks her hood up over her head.

“I still think a runner would be….” She doesn’t get to complete her protest as Igraine barks the order to run and takes off like a flash. Zarrah has just enough time to grunt in annoyance and blink twice before diving after the woman - and her duck!

Ah! But no one said runners were completely out of the picture! As soon as Igraine is clear of the stables, she skirts her way through the shadows, constantly making sure Zarrah is close behind her, until she gets to the spot where her massive black gelding is waiting.

Igraine slips the duck into one of the gelding's saddle bags and the creature disappears. Igraine mounts her beauty of a runner and waits for Zarrah to catch up, looks like there's plenty of room for two to be seated up there. WHen Zarrah does catch up, Igraine gives her a smile and offers her a hand up. "Got to admit it to you Reika girl, you can pick up your feet at least." A wink is given.

Zarrah is hot on the other woman’s heels until they come within sight of the huge black runner. Skidding to a halt she stares, lips parting in an unconscious show of surprise. Then Igraine is offering her hand and the compliment that accompanies it prods Zarrah into action.

With a determined step she moves forward quickly and uses some of her momentum to grab Igraine’s hand and pull herself up behind the trader. Swinging one leg over the gelding she settles close behind Igraine and grasps the woman’s shirt to either side of her waist, a quick glance sent over her shoulder to see if they’ve been followed.

Igraine spurs the mixed breed dray runner into action and the big black beast takes off. Igraine, having seen snow before, relates it to riding an avalanche. She turns him onto the weyr road and heads in the direction of the gate. It’s not long before the pair are past the weyr boundaries and out into the open.

“Where to now girlie?” Igraine asks, pulling her runner to a stop. “Whoah there Goliath….easy boy.” The runner dances, eager to be running. He’d been cooped up in the weyr for soooo long. He snorts his dismay and tosses his head. Igraine pets his neck, whickering and the runner’s ears swivel back to listen. “Easy Boy. Easy.” The runner settles some more, though he still dances on his feet while the human types decide the direction.

Zarrah isn’t completely new to riding on a runner’s back but the size and strength of this particular roan is impressive indeed. At the first jerking leap of all that powerful muscle she grabs a better hold on the other woman, arms circling her waist instead of just holding onto her clothes. Leaning forward she huddles against Igraine’s back, head ducked behind the other’s nape and eyes narrowed against the passage of wind. She still keeps an eye out behind them and only lets out a sigh of relief once the trader pulls the runner to a stop and no one has yet pursued them.

“We made it,” Zarrah says, her tone too flat to tell whether it’s a question or exclamation. Either way she doesn’t seem to expect a response, instead sitting up straighter and twisting slightly in her seat to look around. Somehow her hood stayed in place, creating shadows that help hide her dark hair and much of adrenaline flushed cheeks. “I don’t know,” she admits after a moment, taking a deep breath to settle the quickened rush of air through her lungs. She had only a vague idea when she made her hasty decision. But then memory serves up a suggestion and brandy-hued eyes look to the other woman’s. “Do you know how to get to the oasis with the waterfall?”

"We did indeed, I told you I could get us out." In order to avoid looking suspiscious, Igraine gives Goliath a light kick and he canters out towards the desert, as if just taking the two women out for an early morning pleasure ride. The gelding snorts, pulling at the bit to go faster, but Igraine won't give him his head, not yet.

Zarrah's query has Igraine at a loss however, and it shows in the confusion in her voice. "I know not of what you speak, no." Igraine shakes her head for emphasis and once they are far enough out to not be of interest to the weyr guards anymore, she stops the runner and turns slightly in the saddle. "So what now? This is your heist Reika girl."

Zarrah bites her lower lip, dragging it between her teeth as her gaze sweeps past Igraine and out into the surrounding landscape. A sudden squawk and bumping rustle from the bag in which the duck was stored reminds her of their passenger and she draws a deeper breath, decision made.

“Head further out,” she says with a flick of one wrist. “We can go to the lake. Plenty of water there, and enough wooded area to provide sanctuary.”

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Crater Lake
Four centuries ago, a chunk of the very comet that drove some Oldtimers forward crashed to the desert near Igen Weyr, collapsing the original inner caverns and breaking through to a new spring that now feeds into Igen’s underground aquifer. The result? Beauty from destruction - a long, crystalline lake of brilliant sapphire blue. Sharp sandstone rings the water in jagged peaks, where sparse desert shrubs cling to steep, sandy slopes and reflect darkly on the pristine, mirror-like surface. Out in the midst of the lake, a small island pierces the glassy plane, umber from azure in a near-perfect cone. A startling break in the stark desert and savannah surrounding the Weyr, the crater lake sits like a jewel in the rough - a picturesque, inviting respite from the rough, dry terrain beyond.

Igraine nods curtly. "To the lake then…." Igraine rights herself in the saddle and gives clicks at Goliath, turning him in the right direction for the lake. This time Igraine gives the gelding his head, to a point, after all, she doesn't need Zarrah sliding off the end of the runner!

She spends the ride in silence, turns and turns of training coming to a head with the way the woman watches their surroundings as they ride. Soon enough however, they reach their destination, and you don't have to lead Goliath to water to get him to drink, he's thirsty!! He runs straight for the lake, stopping at the water and dropping his head to drink, heedless of his trio of passengers.

Zarrah’s curiosity rises sharply as they ride but, like the other woman, she remains silent and shelves her questions for now, simply watching their surroundings go by. By the time they reach the lake she has relaxed considerably, no longer fearing that their jaunt in the stables was seen. When Goliath stops and drops his head she yelps, leaning way back to avoid toppling forward and taking Igraine with her.

Igraine laughs at Zarrah's yelps, having braced herself for Goliath's abrupt halt. She is used to the runner's tricks and high spirited ways. "You alright back there?" She asks, wrapping the extra bit of rein around the horn of her saddle.

The duck gives a slight squawk of protest before he settles. Igraine shakes her head at the animal and waits for Zarrah to dismount so that she may do the same.

Zarrah tries not to appear too much the novice but she can’t help scrambling a bit as she practically lies back on the runner’s rump to bring her leg over with the other and half slide half jump to the ground. One hand drops to brace her balance as she lands and she manages to not embarrass herself by falling completely.

Standing upright she dusts off her clothes and straightens her cloak, letting the hood fall to her back. Henna-hued hair falls in thick waves around features made even more lovely by the complementary blush of excitement that deepens the olive tone of her skin. Stepping away from the water’s edge she waits for Igraine to dismount before retrieving her duck.

“Thirsty fella, eh?” she notes with a wry grin for the oblivious runner.

Igraine watches Zarrah dismount and follows suit, feet hitting the ground a bit softer than her predecessor. She allows the girl to retrieve her fowl before forcing Goliath to back away from the water, hitching him to the nearest thing she can tie the reins to safely and keep Goliath from sucking down more water. "Aye, running is thirsty work. Mustn't let him gorge himself on water however. "

Igraine sets to picking the burrs and things from Goliath's coat, leaving Zarrah to do what she needs to do. She also checks his feet, careful to look for stones or anything that might damage the soft core of his hoof.

As soon as she’s able to retrieve her duck Zarrah turns from the water and moves toward a big flat-topped boulder sitting nearby. Leaning on the edge of it she sets the fidgety animal on her lap and attempts to soothe it. A long bumpy ride in a dark bag has rattled the poor thing’s nerves to no end, however, and it takes a good amount of the trader girl’s soothing caresses and softly spoken reassurances before it begins to settle down. Several times it jerks as if poked and throws a fit of wing-rattling and loud squawking for several moments. Each time it calms quicker though, slowly giving in to Zarrah’s attempts at kindness.

So the duck is calm. And no one is around who wants to eat it.

Still Zarrah holds and pets it.

Igraine watches Zarrah's attempts at calming the duck and shakes her head as she unsaddles Goliath and brushes him down, a process she'll repeat once back to camp. The gelding didn't stay as pretty as he was without all that fuss after all! "You can't keep it as a pet you know…" She calls to Zarrah, peering around Goliath's massive head to do so.

The gelding gives a snort of agreement, as if he can understand all this jibber jabber around him. And why was he tied so tightly? That lump of desert brush over there looks tasty! Goliath swings his head around to eye Igraine, his ears perking. Now if only humans understood runner!

“I know!” Zarrah returns. There’s less of a snap to her tone though now that Igraine has helped her efforts to free the duck. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to complete the goal, however, long hair slipping free of her cloak as she tilts her head forward to speak in a lower tone to it. But when she shouts the duck rises to fuss again, which provides the perfect excuse to soothe its feathers and stroke it’s long neck for a bit longer.

If only humans understood duck too!

Igraine finishes up her task and re-tacks her runner while she waits for Zarrah to calm to bird yet again. She’s shaking her head by the time all is said and done. She simply just can’t understand the need to save a single duck from the roasting pan.

Igraine walks over to Zarrah and gives her a kind sort of smile. “We can’t stay here all day lass, I do have betters to report to, and I’m sure you do as well. How bout you turn that fowl loose on the water so he can be free as you wanted and how about we head for some breakfast?” Despite the spy’s quiet nature, her stomach rumbles a loud agreement to her words.

Zarrah is aware of the trader in periphery and a little voice nags at her for keeping the woman. That she might look insane for caring so much for a dinner-destined duck matters not. The inclination comes from somewhere Zarrah herself can’t explain without the help of a mind-healer. She feels it so she acts on it. The bane of wearing your heart on your sleeve.

When Igraine approaches she sighs and nods, acknowledging the woman’s suggestion. “Yes. Of course. I just… want to be sure.” Glancing about a moment she notes the landscape of water, rocks, and woods before lifting her chin to the other woman, dark eyes narrowed due to the sun. “Do you think she’ll be safe here?”

"As safe as any other wild fowl that come to roost here." Igraine won't say out loud that the duck will likely just find her way back to her pen, being a migratory bird and all, they kind of have a good homing sense. She places her hands on her hips and gives Zarrah a teasing grin. "Now will you turn that silly duck loose already?" Igraine's stomach backs her up with an audible rumble. It be breakfast time you know!

Igraine raises a brow and waits, eventually she straightens and begins taming her hair into a thick braid, all the better, gets the still somehow straw filled hair out of her face. She ties off the end with bit of string from her pocket and eyes Zarrah. Well?

With a sigh that could move mountains Zarrah nods, agreeing once again to release the duck. This time she actually moves to do it though, standing and giving the bird one last petting over its wings. “Don’t listen to her. You’re not silly. So long. Be safe.” Kneeling down she sets it on the ground and lets it go.

The duck’s reaction is instant. With a loud quack and flapping of wings it waddles off toward the water, hitting the edge at a dead run. Momentum carries it into the shallows where the quick paddling of its webbed feet speed it along further.

Zarrah stands and shields her eyes to watch it go, the long sleeves of her cloak billowing in the slight breeze. Hearing Igraine’s stomach rumble she pulls her attention back to the beach and turns an apologetic smile on the other trader.

“Ok. We can go now.”

Igraine watches Zarrah release the duck and breathes a sigh of relief. She smiles softly at Zarrah, showing a little bit of sympathy at least. She waves at the girl to follow and heads back to Goliath, mounting him smoothly and offering a hand down to Zarrah. Looking up at the sky to check the position of Rukbat, Igraine sighs. Breakfast would be rather late this morning. "Are you going back to your camp Reika girl or do you need dropping elsewhere?"

Zarrah follows Igraine to her runner but she pauses to look out across the water several times, squinting as the duck quickly gets smaller and smaller. Finally she has to focus her attention fully on what she’s doing or risk an embarrassing mishap as she tries to mount the huge roan. Taking Igraine’s hand she hoists herself up and settles closely behind the other woman as before. The thought of food doesn’t appeal to her right now. She’ll probably skip breakfast altogether.

“The caravan, yes,” she replies over Igraine’s shoulder. The way the other woman calls her ‘Reika girl’ reminds her of their clandestine meeting. “What’s your name, Zingari woman?” she asks, a bit of cheeky humor stemming from the ghost of a grin.

Igraine gives her runner a nudge and he heads homeward at an easy pace. Zarrah’s question prompts a smile, even though Zarrah can’t see it. “My name is Igraine.” She states simply, staring ahead as the weyr comes back into view. “What’s yours?”

With the slower pace Zarrah settles back slightly, legs still tucked around Igraine but not huddling against the woman’s back as she had been on the way out of the weyr. It’s a nice morning and a nice chance to enjoy the surrounding landscape outside those great stone walls.

Igraine. Zarrah commits the name to memory, her gaze rounding back to the steady line of the woman’s shoulders. “Zarrah,” she replies in return. “Thank you for your help, Igraine.” Tilting her head slightly she tries to see the other woman’s profile. “I uh, didn’t interrupt anything you were meaning to do, did I?” The trader’s exit had seemed as much an escape as Zarrah’s, though her reasons were certainly unclear.

“Well met, Zarrah.” Igraine replies, spurring Goliath on. “Only my breakfast, and morning chores.” Igraine chuckles and turns her head to crane a look at Zarrah. “Didn’t you have things to do this morning?” Igraine turns her eyes back to the road, Igraine had mainly been in the stables to visit the runners. But she also listened to the night staff’s gossip, as all of her kind are wont and trained to do.

The guilty mask drops before Zarrah can quite stop it, instead following it up immediately with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder and looking outward as if a passing cluster of bushes has caught her interest.

“Usually I do but I told my brother I had an errand this morning so no one will be expecting me till this afternoon.”

That comment suddenly clicks with Zarrah. If she comes riding into the caravan with Igraine questions are sure to be raised. The huge black runner alone is enough to warrant notice, let alone the Zingari woman that rides him.

“If you could drop me back off in the bowl that’ll be fine. I want to make one more stop before heading back to the caravan.”

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Central Bowl
Cradled, childlike, in an easterly mountainous embrace, the steppes of the central bowl nestle cozily between lake and weyr. The latticework of dusty adobe paths spider out from the southerly Weyr Road, the wagon-ruts of which curve lazily to the northeastern bazaar, the adobe sprawl of the New Weyr reflected in the lake that dominates a large portion of outdoor Igen. A small footpath, just as abused, ambles away from the shores, travelling over rock and hill to the northern dragonet complex and branching itself due west to end at the entrance of the blessedly cool inner caverns. One cracked path, faint with disuse, leads southeast to the crumbling ruins of Igen-that-was. All around, the dizzying heights of the caldera's sharp-sloped sides are pocked here and there with ledges, the weyrs' draconic occupants needing no path to guide their way.

“As you wish Zarrah…” Igraine says with a bit of a laugh to her voice. She kicks Goliath into a slight gallop and steers him into the central bowl in almost no time at all. The weyr is a busy hive of activity now, the only notice they get is the grumblings of the few that venture too close to Goliath's head with their produce carts.

“Is here where you would like to be let down Reika girl?” Igraine repeats her former moniker with a slightly teasing tone to her voice. “Or did you mean one of the other bowls?” Igraine turns in the saddle and smirks, dropping a wink.

Zarrah is eminently relieved as they re-enter the bowl and success seems even more real when no guards pounce them upon arrival. When Igraine turns and teases her Zarrah smirks and shoves the other woman’s shoulder.

“Actually no,” she retorts, pointing a few armlengths away with one hand. “I’d prefer over there.”

"Oh you mean over there then?" Igraine asks lightly, pointing several yards from where Zaraah had been indicating. "Such a precise spot to pick. Meeting a beau perhaps?" Igraine lets down a slow wink and turns Goliath towards where Zarrah had been pointing, regardless of her earlier tease.

Zarrah ruins any serious effect by giggling when Igraine actually moves her runner. She lets the first jest slide in favor of the second, clicking her tongue and scrunching lovely olive-toned features. “Now you’ve done it!” she exclaims, sitting up straighter in her seat. “You’ve gone and figured me out.” Leaning forward slightly she lowers her voice. “You’d better leave swiftly before you see who it is.”

Igraine laughs, the sound free and light. "Well, I suppose I should then, shouldn't I?" Igraine stops her runner where Zarrah had indicated. She turns and offers a hand to help Zarrah down and smiles. "I hope you have a lovely day ms. Zarrah, enjoy your date." Igraine grins at her play on Zarrah's tease and pats Goliath as he chuffs at being still.

With a pressed grin Zarrah turns in her seat and takes Igraine’s offered hand to swing herself down to the ground. A quick brush of fingers straightens her hair and cloak and she tilts a smile up at the trader woman’s tease, leaving the hood to lie against her back now that their clandestine efforts are over.

On a whim she dips her chin and spreads the cloak in either hand to execute a nicely formed curtsy. “And to you, Igraine of the Zingari. May your road be clear, your runner swift, and no duck sully your dinner plate.”

Igraine laughs, bowing from her saddle to Zarrah's curtsy. "Oh but you see dear girl, 'twould not be me minding the duck on my plate." Igraine laughs once more, tossing a friendly salute before turning Goliath in the direction of home, and a very late breakfast. Then to report to S'ayde…who was sure to be pissed at her being late. Oh well, nothing she can do about it now.

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