A winter's noon spills water light across the weyr, accentuating the verdant green that hugs the weyr bowl with a pale, butter-yellow light. It's cold this day, even at noon; cold enough that plants curl upon themselves while simultaneously angling for the weak spill of light. The living caverns are a'bustle with folk: a veritable crowd to be tamed, crushed into along line snaking between the tables filled in segregated clumps by wing and rank. Dressed in worn leathers bespeaking the day's morning Fall, Fja'vn pushes his way through the crowds, battling to the line, to secure a thick roll of bread, a leg of some crisped meat, and a drink to the brim of something stout. Ale, perhaps. Sweat crusts the Thread dust still clinging to his skin which doesn't quite mask the faint, chalky whirls and whorls that still clings to his skin, curling around his neck. Somewhat scruffy, with short hair on end, the bronzerider looks much more the part of the wild wildling than the noble rider his dragon would wish him to be. Without checking to see if intrusion is welcome, Fja'vn finds the nearest empty seat and parks his butt right into it. Crisped meat juices drip from the wherry leg he clenches in one fist. Ale splashes over the sides of his cup. Ahhh, yis.

Lunch is always a rush in the Weyr and it seems as if one of the newest girls to join the ranks of the lower cavern workers is getting somewhat of a baptism by fire. Although dressed in a practical and serviceable dress, something she's never had to do in most of her life, Karysha comports herself as as girl who is still getting used to hard work. Tasked with bussing tables, the blonde carries a tray on which to put any discarded dishes she comes across, a rag tossed over her shoulder to wipe up any messes, and a look of disgust she is desperately trying to obfuscate as she goes around picking up after other people. When she gets to a table that is adjacent to Fja'vn's, she whimpers softly under her breath as she fails to recognize some of the things smeared not only all over the plates, but the tabletop as well. Gingerly, she lifts a plate only for it to squelch obsenely in it's mess and Kary gags silently before depositing it with disgust upon her tray.

Fja'vn is about to bite into that perfectly roasted bird flesh, juices dripping so enticingly. In fact, just as his teeth pierce the cooked flesh, Karysha and her squelching interrupt him. Still, he's no stranger to disgusting things and there's one thing Fja'vn is not, and that is squeamish. So, jaw working, he wipes the grease and other juices from his chin and angles a curious glance at the worker. "Light it on fire," he suggests, with a small jerk of his head towards the mess. "That'll fix it." All problems are solved with destruction, right?

"Trust me, if it wasn't my first day, I'd consider it," Karysha replies as she looks towards the rider, mainly to keep her eyes off the mess she's going to have to deal with, although once she catches sight of him, there's a touch of an automatic smile that blooms on her lips as she gives him a once over. Well hello. Then she remembers that she is dressed like a drudge and handling refuse and her pale cheeks pink a little as she lowers her gaze quickly. "But hopefully they'll let me move onto less icky jobs if I manage this one without setting anything on fire," she replies before going after the second plate.

Very little is given away via Fja'vn's facial expression: his hazel eyes are as enigmatic as they always are, and his features are difficult to read, especially with the dirt, grime, and odd chalky paint. His study of her is a touch alien but not to be surprising given his so-strange wildling ways have not left him. Likely, he's as tamed by civilization as he'll ever be, which is to say, not tamed at all. "You afraid'a being fired?" he asks right before he sheers another plump clump of roasted bird from the bone. "You got no other…" he chews, eyeing the gross business she's cleaning up, "… skills other'n cleaning? Can't sew or whatever they say is women's work around here?" The way he makes the suggestion, the concept of 'sewing' and 'women's work' going together is foreign.

Once the table is cleared, Karysha starts to use her rag to try and get the worse of the mess up, but without water, it only gets smeared around, causing a puzzled look from the girl. It's pretty clear she doesn't have much skills in cleaning. "Well, I mean, possibly. I'm not really sure how that works. Never had a job before," she replies, although it would probably be more accurate that she's never had to work before. "Unless you count shopping and gossiping as useful skills, then….no?" she replies a little hesitantly as she finally realizes this isn't working. Looking around a bit frantically, at a loss with what to do, she spies a bucket of water off to the side and gets an idea so radical it might jsut work. Fetching it only takes a moment at in a work of zealous inspiration, she tips it over the table top, hoping the flow of the water will negate any scrubbing she might need to do otherwise.

"Nnngh?" Fja'vn's questioning baritone comes with a rasp, likely because it's a sound he's made with his mouth full. "Where you come from?" he asks, somewhat warily, as once again he's eyeing her with a weighted, enigmatic stare. "You don't look like you're from the jungles," amusement deepens his voice when he notes how she's smearing the mess around. He waits for any potential answer as Karysha goes off and dumps water on the table. Slapping his thigh in pure amusement, the bronzerider laughs. "Perfect, perfect." His humor is strange enough that his eyes glitter with it. "I didn't have a job either. Well I had a job back'n the Kalimpura, but not here, in this strange place with its strange ways. Now I fight Thread. I still say," Fja'vn waggles his gnawed leg bone at her, "you should light it on fire, but now you've gone and drowned it. It's all running on the floor." Puddles of muck are, indeed, dripping off the side.

"From the jungles?" Karysha replies with a blink of surprise in Fja'vn's direction, clearly not catching his meaning, "Who lives in the jungles? No no, I'm from Igen Weyr, well the Bazaar there. My father is a merchant, a very sucessful one," she adds with a slight lift of her chin as if that even means anything here in Southern. When her stroke of genius turns out to be not so much, she furrows her perfectly shaped brows into a look of frustration. "Well that didn't work as I thought it would…" she observes before picking up the rag in a pinched grip between her thumb and forefinger and tries to tentatively wipe the watery mess into the bucket with not so great results, even more spilling around it onto the ground under the table. Kary whimpers with frustration as things are just turning into a bad sitcom over here and her lower lip trembles briefly as everything just seems to get worse. "Oh for Faranth's sake. How hard is it to clean a table?" she laments.

Fja'vn narrows his eyes on Karysha, the hint of a frown beginning to crack through the unreadable outershell. With deliberate slowness, he rips the remaining flesh — getting a bit of fat and cartilage too — from the bone and shreds it with his teeth. "I lived in the jungles," he answers her, the frown dissipating when she reveals her ignorance — aka, that she's from Igen Weyr. "Farthest eastern shore where the sun and the sky meet. Grew up there, until I ran away and came here without the permission of my Wisdom. Now I am punished to be forever part of the weyr." He grins, his 'punishment' not really a punishment at all, for who could not love Paendryth? "It's hard to clean a table when you don't want to clean the table. My Wisdom would say that a job is only so hard as the effort you wanna put in. I was never good at listening." He shrugs, a devilish, boyish grin transforming his features and showing off slightly crooked teeth. "Light it on fire!" He's so helpful, ain't he?!

"Oh! You did?" Karysha asks around the foot in her mouth, as she wrings out the rag in the bucket, looking away hastily to avoid any further gagging. "Your what now? Wisdom?" she asks, completely confused as she slaps the wet cloth back on the table. Bad idea, since that just sends up a spray of dirty water right at her, which prompts a squeal as she jumps back, throwing the cloth down at the table in disgust. Giving up for now, she furiously wipes her hands down the front of her apron with soft whimpers. "Well I guess we have something in common then. I'm not exactly here with my father's blessing," she confesses with a nervous chuckle. "I feel like I'm being punished already. I doubt anyone ever wants to clean a table. It certainly wasn't in my life goals, that's for sure." she replies with a heavy sigh. His last gets a genuine smile and a giggle though, "Is fire your answer to everything?"

Fja'vn nods his head to her query, keeping his jaws shut on the question of his Wise One. Clan secrets, and all. Or maybe he's just being a pain in the arse; that's always possible. "He gonna come and snatch you back if he finds you?" he asks, draining his ale in nothing short of three gulps. Impressive! Sticking the now denuded bone into the ale mug, the bronzerider turns his attention to Karysha. "Some people do," he starts to say, "Want to clean a table. For many reasons, though it is strange here. To not want to do things. To want to do other things. In the jungle, there is only survival. You do as you must to survive the night." He pushes up from the stool, straightening and arching his back to get the kinks out. Imposing as he is with his strange markings and his wild-man's demeanor, he seems also almost curious. "Isn't fire good for everything? Burn the old, in with the new." He squints at her, giving her a weighted, thoughtful look. "Your pa sells stuff. Surely, the daughter of a merchant can figure out how to get the better jobs?" He sticks out his hand, large and calloused with the grime of dead thread crusted around his fingernails, and introduces, "Fja'vn son of Masand son of Ruark, rider of bronze Paendryth of Ocelot."

Bright blue eyes grow round as Karysha watches the man drain his ale as if it were nothing, then stands quietly as he speaks, his words in turn confusing and intriguing, a million questions waiting on the tip of her tongue, but she was raised to be seen and not heard and so just smiles and nods along with what he says. "I doubt I would. Survive, that is, out in the jungle," she responds with a giggle of mild self-deprecation, "I'm finding it hard enough living in the dorms here after having my own room all my life." When he gets up to stretch, not so covert glances are given over the man and his strange markings, curiosity abounding but held at bay, "I suppose so, but what if you want to go back to the old eventually when the new isn't as shiny anymore?" she asks almost wisfully before shaking herself out of it with a groan at the mention of her father. "Yes, he sells stuff, I was never a part of the business, well except as a barganing chip in negotiations. I was just meant to be pretty and hopefully someone influential would want to marry me eventually…." she trails off with a sigh and a slow shake of her head, "And no…I don't think he is coming for me. I'm sure he thinks I'll be home soon enough when I can't cope on my own." His outstretched hand is eyed briefly before she daintily places her own un-calloused, pampered hand in his, "Karysha Steen, pleasure to meet you, Fja'vn."

"You'd be surprised what you'd do when nature takes over," Fja'vn notes, squeezing her hand in a grip that's surprisingly not crushing. All of her questions only deepen the glint in hazel eyes that seem more green than brown, like the shadows of the heart of the jungle. Her words confuse him, though, bringing his brows down in a mild furrow. "In my clan, women have more power than that." But then again, he did mention a Wisdom. "Well met, Karysha, daughter of Steen." He mistakes her name as the muscles in his warm grip flex in a loose squeeze before he lets go. Leaning closer, he adds, "If he comes, then, run, if you wanna different life." Decisively, he tips his head back towards the sky, "Okay, okay. Here, I will clean your table for you." And with that, he separates at least one half of the table — a size that's carryable — and hauls it out with him. Past the crowd. Through the doors. Into the watery winter sun. Fja'vn throws it into the middle of the bowl, and walks off, laughing to himself. It's just as well, for in that space of nothingness where there lies only a dirty table, a jet of flame bursts over the wood, originating from a most elegant and beautiful bronze. That's right. FIGHT IT WITH FIRE.

"Ok, if you say so," Karysha replies with a dimissive wave of her hand because the idea of her alone in the jungle is quite preposterous. She does quirk a brow of interest when he speaks of the women of his clan. "That's interesting. I was told it was better for a woman to be seen and not heard," she replies with a dry snort of laughter, shaking her head at his form of adressing her. "No, my father is Hullis, our..I guess you could say clan, is named Steen," she explains with a tilt of her head, shaking her head to dimiss once more the idea of her father coming to Southern after her. Fja'vn's next doesn't even register before he is lifting the table and Karysha jumps back in surprise. "What? No! It's ok! Really!" She calls after him desperately, mortified at what is happening right now as people are looking at them as she follows him out to the bowl. When he throw it down, she cries out in protest and almost jumps towards it before that flame brings a shriek of surprise as she instinctively jumps towards the bronzerider. "Shards! Why'd you do that? I'm going to get in trouble…" she whimpers, completely crest-fallen that she's already cost the living Cavern one table and it's not even the end of her first day.

And on that bombshell, Fja'vn throws up a salute and a bow that should be noble but isn't, and walks away, whistling. Giving no answers as it's time for other things. Besides, Paendryth — who is satisified that the top is clean — spirals up into the pure-blue sky, looking quite fetching against the noon-day light. All of his gilded parts gleam and glitter in the sunlight, drawing the eye. Fja'vn, himself, soon disappears into the crowds feeling quite satisfied at having done his duty of helping someone. Also, who doesn't like fire?!

Blinking and staring is what Karysha does for the next several long moments, watching as the table burns. When she goes to look for the wildling bronzerider, he has vanished, and her cheeks grow red as she's left all alone to explain this to the Headwoman. Biting her lip nervously, she watches the bronze glide overhead, and probably would have marvelled at his shinyness if she wasn't dreading stepping back into the Living Cavern. But it's something that must be done, so she throws back her shoulders, takes a deep breath and goes to report the incident to someone in charge and see what the outcome will be. And this is only the first day of the rest of her life….yay…