K'ane, Tuli


K'ane and Tuli watch some evil garden-ransacking traders leaving Southern and have what accounts as mild conversation… for them.

Sexually suggestive material/crude humor.


It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the sixth month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


Weyr Entrance, Southern Weyr

OOC Date


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Weyr Entrance

No standard weyr-arch for Southern, no, not when an open-air bridge could curve so gracefully into the exterior of the bowlwall, the concave swoop of the weyrbowl itself nestled against the far high-rise of the rivercliffs. A pocket of white marble is delineated in gorgeous architecture at the termination of the bridge; the stone buildings of the guard compound rise in a vivid vein against the rough-hewn darkness of the cliffs it settles against. The classic arcs only possible by ancient stonecutters show through, Southern's ageless beauty to be admired by all who trespass her walls.

Trade caravans: sometimes awesome, sometimes not. The caravan leaving right now? Latter category. Not that it really deserves the title 'caravan', anyway: more like moving rummage heap. A trio of wagons are slowly drifting down the road out of the Weyr, disreputable traders increasingly small dots. But Tuli isn't taking ANY CHANCES. The goldrider is seated on the sleek marble, knees askew. She is watching. Lurking. GUARDING. What, did she elect herself the Weyr Bouncer or something?

"Y'know… I'm pretty sure this is a woeful misappropriation o' weyr resources. Misallocation? Misallocation." There's K'ane's voice, the weyrlingmaster lazily walking up behind where Tuli perches. Like a hawk. Guarding her… do hawks guard shit? Maybe not. "I'm sure we've got guards t'do that, if y'don't trust 'em." Instead of doing anything to back up his words, he instead flops down next to the goldrider, with a WHUMP.

"Sure," says Tuli, placidly making room for the bronzerider to sit. They can be hawks together. Or swans, maybe; those guys will snap your arm if you so much as look at their nest funny. "But I want those thieving assholes to piss themselves when they even think of my smiling face. Sending guards to do the dirty work defeats the purpose." One of the thieving assholes is distantly moving in such a way as to suggest a glance backwards. The goldrider narrows her eyes. Still death glaring, she inquires, casual: "How're the weyrlings faring?"

Tuli can be a swan. K'ane is way too fugly to meet the long-necked grace necessary for that parallel. "Huh. So you're takin' it personal. What'd they do, tell y' that your crazy crop rotations wouldn't work?" It's the joke that just never gets old (to K'ane). The bronzerider, at the notion of someone turning around, lifts a thickly-muscled arm to wave cheerfully. Maybe it's a cute one-finger wave at the end of it, but it's so far away, isn't it? "Oh, they're babies." K'ane's voice sounds as placid and content as he ever does when talking about the latest crop. "'Bout to fly for th' first time, soon. Together. Then weyrs an' they'll be out of my hair for this up-'n'-comin' class."

He can be a honey badger, then. Work the ugly-cute-evil angle. "They stole," Tuli's voice drips with UMBRAGE, "from my garden," it's not actually just her garden, it's a Farmcraft garden, the Farmers just tolerate her periodic incursions when scheduling permits, "and then tried to sell back the goods. AND they destroyed my poor little baby blueberry plants. Stepped ALL over them. I think someone took a piss on 'em, too." Shaking a fist at an enemy is the kind of thing that only happens in fiction or sarcasm… unless you're Tuli, who is doing it with tragic earnestness. Dime-turn casual, she adds: "Fuck you and FUCK your crop rotations, K'ane." With more interest, the woman continues: "Glad to hear it. Eli's building her wing strength back up, like a champ. Cycle's all blown to pieces, poor lamb. Still, it'll be within the turn, I'd wager."

If K'ane was a honey badger he would be the fiercest, gayest honey badger ever to live. TRIPLE SNAP he dun give a FUCK. "Your garden?" Because K'ane needs to make sure the weyr hasn't give her any land somewhere. Not because that wouldn't be awesome, but if -she- got something -he- wants something, kthx. "I'm not sure if y'could fuck a rotation," he idly comments, thoughtfully. "I guess you could." He slides eyes upwards, as if Elicheritath's spideryness will suddenly manifest out of nowhere (hey between is a thing right) and then gives a laconic shrug. "That's good." It sounds genuine, at least.

Truly, it's his spirit animal, or daemon, or whatever. (Although if we go that way, Tuli is probably less swan, more, like… goat.) "Well, my favorite garden, anyway." Tuli dismisses this detail as irrelevant with an idle wave of her hand. "Fuckers. And fuck you, I'm sure YOU could figure out how to bang a garden, you pervert." She shifts into a cross-legged position, chin resting on her palm. There's no sign of Elicheritath appearing, but one never really knows with her. She could be behind you. RIGHT NOW. Feel that tickle on your back, K'ane? MAYBE IT'S HER. "It's a relief, is what it is." The woman looks faintly regretful. "Pity it was a wing that was all mangled up. She's always been like a hatchet-faced woman with really great hair, if you know what I mean." Pause. Shrug. "Oh well."

A goat Tuli is fucking terrifying. Or maybe just a goat-eyed Tuli. Goat eyes are individual hells waiting to suck the souls out of the surrounding people, after all. "Well, if there were some good yellow sqaush," he eyebrow waggles at her in a completely over-the-top way, "Or maybe a little watermelon…" Now he's thinking about it. Thanks Tuli. (K'ane doesn't look behind him because he's pretty sure there is a spider ready to make him jump out of his SKIN.) "Oh, I don't know 'bout that. She's pretty," K'ane vaguely utters about said spider. "Just fuckin' creepy." No offense or anything.

Don't forget the humanesque yelling goats do. FREAKY. "And of course there's always the farmer's wife's friend, the cucumber." Tuli sounds so reluctant to be participating in this conversation, and yet utterly unable to resist. "Though maybe a zucchini would be better." On the subject of Elicheritath's looks, the goldrider observes: "More ugly-elegant, you ask me. Creepy-elegant." She's not liable to be offended by him calling her dragon creepy. She knows. "Her mind is beautiful as fuck, though." Pause. "Mind you, most dragons' minds are, from what I glimpse off of El." The veggie-purloining traders move ever farther away, so the woman risks turning her head to cock an eyebrow at K'ane. "Any interesting souls amongst the youngsters?"

Oh, like that one youtube video of the goat yelling for Bob. Freaaaakky. "Zucchini," K'ane sagely enters, "It's a little more, y'know. Textured." Because that's what Tuli has always wanted, right? To talk about the best quick-fix penetration toys a farmer can get her hot little … hands on. "Creepy-elegant. I dig it." K'ane drops back to hold himself up on his elbows, half-reclined. "Yeah, Dhioth's is…" Beat. "Layered." Amusement. "Eh? Oh, there're a couple. Prymelia Impressed, y'remember her, aye? Th' redhead?"

"I'll start up a special zucchini plant just so you can please your harem," says Tuli, dry as the desert. She idly scratches an itchy knee. The traders are almost around the bend in the road. They might be hurrying. Maybe the watchgoat and watchbadger are speeding their passage along. "UM. Trader girl, right? From Igen, isn't she?"

"Aww, Tuli. An' here I didn't think you cared," K'ane, teasing. More smugly: "I don't need no damn zucchinis to please a woman, anyhow." Watchbadger leans his head back, closes his eyes, unconcerned with the progress of the traders at this point. "Aye, trader. I think so? Can't rightly remember. She got a green. An' uh, that tracker… K'lir, now. Kultir. You remember Nathanael, I'm sure." See? Lots of likely individuals.

Tuli is still watching. Watching those THIEVES. Just call her Farmer McGregor. They're lucky they didn't end up as Trader pie. She only has a derisive snort at K'ane's claims of zucchini's irrelevance in his life, idly flicking a hand to dismiss both the topic, and his own personal pickling cucumber. "Such a pack of babies," says the ancient twenty-six turn old. "And more like them to come." Sigh. "Weyrlings make me feel old."

K'ane turns and looks at Tuli. "You. Old." His scoff is almost VISIBLE it is so tangible in his voice. "Really." He even has an eyebrow arch… just for her. It could be the This-Is-K'ane's-Face-For-Most-Anything-Tuli-Does Look.

"Sometimes I miss being sixteen and an absolute asshole," is Tuli's roundabout reply. She sighs again: the traders are now distinctly Distant. All her fun is over :( "Time, man." Pause. "It's so weird."

"It's only a decade, Tules. Ain't like much else has changed." Read: yes tuli you are still an asshole. "Other'n," gesture, vague, "Y'know… bein' here. Threadfall. Asshat nowtimers. Y'know, that kinda thing." K'ane actually sits up, squinting off after the bastard trader caravan.

Tuli is an angel, whatever, K'ane. "Mmph." She thumps her head idly (and gently - the hair is good padding) against the marble behind her, before following his lead in sitting. "This has been such a weird five turns. Maybe THAT'S why I feel old." Whatever, Tuli. Abruptly, she hops down from her perch, a neat fluid motion, and glances over her shoulder at K'ane. "Looks like those dicks aren't turning around. Wanna hit the tavern?"

"Only if yer buyin'," K'ane retorts, but there's a flicker of a grin as he hops after her. "C'mon. Let's drink some dumb Tiglets under th' table and take all their money." It'd be just like High Reaches, except with wings named after cats. Or … something. "Now, about those zucchini…"

"It's pickling cucumbers YOU need," retorts Tuli, as they stride off towards the bar. "You don't want to remind your girlfriends of what they're not getting."

"Ha, I forget I ain't ever spread those skinny legs of yours. 'Sides, let's face it, it ain't th' cucumber that makes the man, it's his…" Whatever horrible, HORRIBLE thing K'ane has planned on saying, it's lost to the doorway of the tavern, and the dull roar of humanity beyond.

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