Alyna, Kyriatis


Kyriatis has some heavy questions. Alyna has some thoughts.

Mentions of death.


It is morning of the twenty-eighth day of the eleventh month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Garden Terrace, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 06 May 2018 23:00


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"It was like I knew then this was what I was waiting for, and my life kind of started from that point. There was no doubt in my mind that I could not have refused that searchrider."


Garden Terrace

Tucked-away and bejeweled, here is a hidden treasure of Southern, beckoning and beguiling those who may trod the entrance of weyrbridge: steps cut upwards, switching back and outer-railed, to terminate in a sheltered ledge of stone. Here, greenery blooms in fragrant profusion, scenting the air and quieting the minds of those who stroll amongst the cultivated rows of cultivars. Flowers, and tiny fruit-bearing trees limn the walkways. Tables and benches scatter organic throughout the rambling concourse, providing easy rest for those who challenged the stairs… or the craft shops beyond the scrolled wooden door at the innermost part of the terraced ledge.

It's been a few days since Rhiscorath's flight, and things have largely settled down again. Thread fell yesterday, and today has dawned fine and breezy; another perfect day. Mid-morning finds the Weyr bustling with normal activity, though that's less evident up upon the terrace, where noise from the bowl carries only in the form of a distant susurrus. Amidst the calm, Kyriatis has settled herself cross-legged upon a bench, sketching something out on a piece of hide that is well past its prime, her attention focused intently upon one of the garden beds across from her.

Dressed in a breezy sundress and sandals that lace up to her knees, Alyna comes walking in from the craft shops, carrying several bags in her hands. Someone's doing a little retail therapy on their rest day. Unfortunately her grip isn't the best as one of the bags seems to be slipping. In a rush, she finds the nearest bench and plops her purchases down on it. Considering briefly that she may have gone a little overboard on her spree, she spies someone in the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she spots Kyriatis a few benches down, so intent on her work. So with the lightest steps, she tries to sneak over to where the gardener is sitting, and if she does manage to get there without notice, she'll drawl playfully, "Whatcha doin'?" in a mischievous singsong voice.

Indeed, Kyriatis must be very intent upon her work indeed, because she is entirely oblivious to the presence of the greenrider until she speaks— and that is enough that she yelps, pen flying out of her fingers and hide dropping partway between her knees before she hastily recovers it. Whatever it is she's working on, she's laid it out as a grid, cross-hatching here and there as if to lay something out. As she recovers herself; "Shells, Alyna, you scared me. Don't sneak up on a person like that!" At least she's grinning, so it's less a chide and more… commentary, shall we say.

Alyna has the decency to look at least a little sheepish when she makes the girl yelp and sends her writing instrument flying, although her pale blue eyes continue to dance playfully. "Sorry, couldn't resist," and by way of apology, she will go and hunt down the pen that the girl was using, finding it in a nearby flowerbed and dusting it off before handing it back to the teen. Taking a good look at the grid drawn out on the hide, "So what are you working on then?" she asks with sincere curiosity.

For a moment (maybe even two!), Kyriatis pretends to be all huffy and unwilling to engage, but a) this happens while Alyna is fetching her writing implement, and b) she's a terrible actress and it's pretty much impossible to tell that that's what she's doing. In any case, she accepts her pen with regal poise, and a sniff that sounds almost as if she just has a cold instead of being dismissive, and then abruptly grins again. "That's fair, I guess. I'd probably do something similar, but then I have the excuse of being fifteen. What's your excuse?" She doesn't seem to expect an answer, because she continues without pause, "I want to prove to the head gardener that I'm responsible enough to take on a project of my own. I'm trying to design a flower bed." Her nose wrinkles; it may not be going as well as intended.

"I'm trying to stay young at heart." Alyna says with soft laughter at the very bad play acting that Kyriatis was putting on before she sits down next to the girl and takes a good look at what she has drawn so far. "That's certainly ambitious of you. How exactly do you go about designing something like that anyway?" she asks, tilting her head to the side as if that may actually help her make sense of the girl's drawing.

Kyriatis, though plainly amused and perhaps even delighted by Alyna's first comment, is more focused on the response to her explanation, dropping her gaze back to the page as she straightens it upon her knees. "With difficulty," she admits. "It's one thing to imagine something fully in bloom, and another thing completely to work out how exactly to plant in order to achieve that. And, for that matter, balancing colours and shapes and… it's all a lot more difficult than I thought it would be."

"Well that's definitely more work than I thought was put into them." Alyna says with an easy shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe you need a break, I find if I'm looking at something for too long it gets daunting." And look, Alyna is right there to offer her a perfect excuse to take such a break. "So I heard Rhiscorath's flight was most spirited. Hopefully that will mean a nice big clutch of eggs, we could sure use them. Lost too many last winter." she says with a bitter note as she runs her fingers through her pale blond waves.

Kyriatis gives her hide another serious, intent glance— and promptly flushes darkly at this replacement topic the greenrider has proposed. Carefully, with deliberate movements of her slender fingers, she rolls up the scrap of hide, focusing her attention on it rather than on Alyna. "I thought things would get easier, the further into the pass we got," she says, not quite apropos of nothing, but certainly a side-step. "Fewer losses. No more surprise falls. But it never ends. Not for another… thirty-six turns or so. Every time, I'm afraid it'll be someone I know. How do you cope, Alyna?"

Oh boy. Alyna's put her foot in it now. Trying to make some casual conversation backfires as she's left literally scratching her head, while looking puzzled as to how she can possibly begin to answer Kyritatis' question. "Ummm.." she stalls for a moment as the wheels turn for a moment longer before she continues, "Me, personally? I live every day as if it could be my last. Cause that's my reality. I impressed during the first Turn of the Pass, I'll be very lucky to see the end, although I hope to. So I don't let myself miss out on anything." she says emphatically before looking over at the girl. "We all handle the uncertainty differently, and it's not only riders who deal with it either. The only sure thing about life is that you are going to die. Everyone is. So make the most of it I say."

Kyriatis: queen of taking things from 0 to 100 in two seconds flat. She seems a little abashed by her own words in the wake of them, but no less interested in the answer. Chewing on her lip, the teen considers Alyna as she speaks, her mouth opening as if to interrupt a couple of times, although she does't. Finally, "Was it something you thought about, when you agreed to Stand? Though… I suppose it didn't feel like a reality then, did it? You can't know what a Pass is like until you've really seen it."

"You gotta understand." Alyna starts with hesitation, "I was what? 19 turns old? I worked in the laundry in Telgar Hold. I didn't have a talent, or a passion. I was waiting for someone to come along who was agreeable enough that I wouldn't mind marrying. It was like I was waiting for my life to start. Then I get searched, and back then, girls were only searched when there were gold eggs." Pausing, Alyna stares off into the distance, very obviously lost in her memories. "It was like I knew then this was what I was waiting for, and my life kind of started from that point. There was no doubt in my mind that I could not have refused that searchrider."

The way Kyriatis listens, it's clear she's hanging on to every word, her brow knit together as she takes in the story. There's a quick inhale when Alyna says she was waiting for life to start; then an exhale, moments later, as evidently, the story comes together. "And then," she supposes, "You had Haquith, and it didn't matter the reality, because you couldn't imagine life without her."

"Exactly." Alyna says with a soft smile as she turns to look at the girl. "To find the other half of you on the Sands, it makes everything else worth it. It's not hard to face the uncertainty and pain of Threadfall when you know you will never be alone again. Some would say it's a poor consolation prize for putting oneself in harm's way, but think it's the exact opposite. I wouldn't trade Haquith for a safe, quiet life in the Hold, not in a hundred lifetimes." Narrowing her eyes then, she peers intently at the teen, "Is this about the fact that there will be eggs soon and that means Search?" she wonders out loud.

The little nod Kyriatis gives suggests she's not questioning the bond between dragon and rider; weyrbred as she is, daughter to a dragonrider, no doubt she's seen evidence enough of that, even if a non-rider can never truly grasp the intensity of the bond. But the question posed to her draws a more uncertain pause. Slowly, "I suppose so? It's been on my mind. It's not just the danger of it. It's… I like working in the gardens. I'm not sure if I'd really enjoy drills or sweeps or flying 'fall. It's not as if you can change your mind later. But… it's important. We need dragonriders."

"Just becasue you're weyrbred, doesn't mean you have to stand." Alyna offers gently, "And no one much likes drills or sweeps or Fall, but it's a necessity. I am sure there are some parts of your job that are more unpleasant than others, but are just as important. And riders do a lot more than that too. But you're right, you can't change your mind, a dragon is for life. But it's your choice and I'm sure you'll make the right one." So unused to doling out the sage advice is Alyna that she awkwardly pats the girl's shoulder. "And it'll be sevens yet till they are laid anyway. So you have time. And if you don't stand now, maybe you do when you're older."

Although Kyriatis nods, it rather looks as if there are several points she'd like to refute in Alyna's advice. For whatever reason (and perhaps it's even because she's conscious of the greenrider's less-than-complete-comfort with this kind of advice-giving), however, she chooses not to, instead pushing a more-usual smile back onto her face. "Mmm, true. And who knows if I'd even Impress, anyway. I— thanks." Another nod, then; short and sharp but apparently heartfelt, though she falters afterwards, as if not quite sure how to steer the conversation anywhere else.

"There are so many unknowns when it comes to Search, sometimes thinking about them all causes more trouble than trusting your gut." Now Alyna seems to be on a roll, maybe she could get used to this wise mentor thing. And lucky for Kyriatis, Alyna suddenly remembers her shopping and she gets to her feet with a stretch before moving to collect them. "I should get going, I have to lug all that up to my weyr, then I have a full schedule of sunbathing and swimming with Haquith. Gotta make the most of my rest day." she says with a bright smile and a playful wink before gathering up her bags, taking care that they are all secured before she heads off down the stairs with great care and to the Weyr Entrance where a huffy green has been waiting for some time.

"Thanks, Alyna," repeats Kyriatis, but if she has other thoughts - other comments - they'll need to be saved for another occasion; for now, it's enough for her to twist her pencil in her fingers, and begin unrolling her hide again… though it's unlikely she'll be getting any more work done in the short-term.

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