Who

Xanthee

What

Xanthee decides that she needs to try her hand at matchmaking to bring together two of her friends.

When

It is sunrise of the twenty-third day of the tenth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Resident Terraces, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 27 Dec 2017 05:00

 

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Resident Terraces

Scoured by sand, storm, and sun, the bleached-gold face of the caldera wall is punctured here by gaping rock maws: within reside a multitude of little abode-brick buildings, colorful hides stretched across windows and doorways to protect against more unfortunate weather. No traditional dormitory, this: Igen's weyrfolk live in family groups or packs of singletons in these cozy brick abodes, dwellings doled out on a first-come, first-serve basis. Here and there, steep stone staircases wend their way between spacious stone ledges, their outer edges protected by the ingenious use of stone blocks to prevent being pitched over the side in high winds. Below, the Central Bazaar is spread, replete with the sounds of everyday life in the Weyr: the bawl of beasts, the shouts of bargains being made, and the happy laughter of the occasional child all raised in a cacophony life.


The sun is rising on Igen Weyr, the storm that was raging calmed during the night, leaving everything covered with sand. Ever the early riser, left over from her days as a drudge, Xanthee is already preparing for the day in her small room in the Resident Terraces. She is dressed for work, her hair pulled back in a runnertail as she finishes washing her face from a small basin. Grabbing a towel, she pats her skin dry as her firelizards waken slowly from where they are curled up in a pile of wings and tails at the foot of her bed.

"Up my little ones. I'm going to need you to do me a favor soon." She uncovers a small bowl with some meat jerky in it and scoots it closer to the trio enticing them to wakefullness as she sits at her tiny desk and takes up some scraps of hide in front of her. Picking up stylus, she taps the end of it against her lips, considering which message to write first. After a moment, she resolves and puts writing implement to hide.

"Dear Daen, Have you been ignoring me? Cause I know the Zingari are still in the Weyr and I have not seen hide nor hair of you in sevendays. So to make it up to me, you are going to come have drinks at the Oasis Inn with me and I won't take no for an answer. Let me know what evenings you have free in the next seven and I expect you to be there when I set a date. Your 'sister', Xanthee."

Smirking at that one, Xanthee fans the piece of hide to let the ink dry before setting it aside and grabbing a new piece before starting her second message.

"Dear Reveka, Thank you so much for helping me pick out that dress the other day, I never thought I was going to find something, but the one we settled on is perfect. So as a thank you, I'd love to go and have a drink with you sometime, maybe out of the Weyr. Have you been to the Oasis Inn? It's really charming, and the drinks are good. Let me know which evenings you have free coming up and we'll set something up. Your friend, Xanthee."

That's two down, now the last one to go, a soft smile creeps over her lips as she starts to write.

"Dearest Mal, I'm sorry I couldn't stay over last night, these early shifts are killer and I needed my sleep. How would you feel about helping me with a little project I have in mind? Nothing onerous, just drinks with a couple of my friends one evening. I will fill you in when I next see you, hoping that it won't be too long. I hope you have a great day. Your Xanthee."

Only feeling the littlest bit silly, she rolls up this last message and seals it with a kiss before calling over her firelizards who have made a big dent in the bowl of jerky. The letter for Daenerys is mischievously attached to Banshee's leg, as she pictures the long haired Tanner, probably in the Caravan Grounds, and projects it at her older green. The second message, for Reveka, is tied to her younger green Cersei, who is given the picture of the Zingari girl, with instructions to follow Banshee to the Caravan Grounds. Then the last one is entrusted to her Bronze Grymm, showing him a vivid image of the inside of Mal's room in the Crafter's Complex, placing Mal in his bed with the blankets toussled around him, a small smile on her face as the image comes to mind, and Grymm croons teasingly at her before he chirps to the girls and the three pop out of sight.

Feeling accomplished, Xan looks over at her new dress hanging on the back of her door, and the excitement of her little plan bolsters her enough to face a long day of work at the Tea Room.

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