Illianu, Lyllian


Hustle, bustle, a small gift. (Mini-scene.)


It is afternoon of the first day of the seventh month of the fifth turn of the 12th pass.


Central Bowl, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 02 Aug 2015 05:00


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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.

It's an extremely hot afternoon, at least for the High Reaches born girl currently crossing the bowl, despite the Turns she's lived under the hot Igen sun. Lyllian passes through on her way to the bazaar, her almost constant companion of a pack sitting over her shoulder and resting on her hip.

Drudges have of not being seen, the way they dress, move, look, act. They just kind of blend into the scenery. They are someone elses problem, something not worth bothering with. This particular older drudge isn't much different, he makes his way through the bowl, getting just close enough to Lyllian that he could touch her. And in that moment she may notice a change in the weight of her pack, maybe it is a tiny bit heavier. Not a word is said, not a thing is done to draw attention to himself. He just continues on.

Lyllian pauses just a moment at the weight change and looks off in the direction where she had come, but… there's more than just her and Illianu crossing the bowl, and she doesn't catch him immediately. Without that clue, she looks down to her pack, opening it up to see what might be there.

Other than perhaps a glimpse of red hair, and just how rare is that these days. It's unlikely that she catches sight of him. A package appears to have been added to her pack, tied, with a small slightly wilted flower in the twine. The contents are a simple lunch, with a sweet treat for desert, the kind of pastery her mother used to adore. And a somewhat out of place small polished stone.

Lyllian explores the package a bit longer, and then turns to gaze back towards the direction she came again. "Hello?" she calls, but to whom? It's unclear. She doesn't quite know, other than that it was someone. She starts back that direction, towards where she came and where she might have intersected with the person who dropped this item off. But no one was to be found.

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