A'lira, Xanthee


Weyrbrat and Brownrider, who once shared a Candidate class, have a brief chat by the lake.


It is afternoon of the nineteenth day of the third month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Lake Shore, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 13 Feb 2018 05:00


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"Weyrbrats are a much heartier breed than Holder brats."


Lake Shore

Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

It is the nineteenth day of Spring and 68 degrees. It is bright and sunny. The only evidence of the overnight storm is in the lingering mud puddles.

Afternoon has come, and with it a chance at a break from the hectic life of a wingrider and dragonhealer trainee: out in the sun, out from under stone ceilings and the sometimes claustrophobic closeness of stone walls, A'lira finds himself walking the Lake Shore and trying to work out some of the excess energy his dragon seems so full of. That dragon, by the by? Currently trying to dig a massive crater right at the edge of the shore, panting — tongue a'loll in the most ridiculous fashion — and digging, butt in the air and forelegs digging up great tracts of mud and sand, sending it flying about himself with glee and no cares for whomever might be walking by. A'lira, obviously, has given up trying to get him to stop it: his pained expression suggests that the dragon has been at it awhile.

Ahhhh Spring! Finding herself with an afternoon off and the weather being so sunny and pleasant after the thunderstorm that blew threw last night, Xanthee has decided that a run might be in order. Dressed in her usual workout gear of shorts and a short sleeved top with her black hair pulled back into a runnertail, the young woman wanders in from the direction of the residence terraces. Her two greens and one bronze firelizards orbit around her, crooning and warbling their delight at the fine weather, dropping off to dive into mud puddles sending little plumes of dirty water up in their wakes. Xan starts to jog a little bit so that her friends don't manage to make her muddy for the start of her run. As she starts her warm-up stretches, she takes the time to scope out the area when she spies Kyprioth digging in the ground and she has to let out a loud guffaw as she turns back to spy her firelizards. "At least you guys fit in the baths." she says with a snicker which her trip reply to with soft creels of amusement.

Lucky, lucky Xanthee, whose creatures will fit in the baths! A'lira, on the other hand, will have a great deal of …. fun scrubbing a muddy, sandy dragon in the Lake, which is likely still a little bit chilly. At least he has six helpful firelizards (even if they're being awfully helpful with the digging right now) to clean off Kyprioth. At the sound of Xanthee's laughter, he turns those mournful, mournful dark eyes on her, and grumbles, "Yeah, rub it in. I got the one dragon of the clutch who decides diggin' is awesome." And bathing is for suckers; the brown will dig in like a champion when it suits him to avoid getting all that dirt off his hide. The dragon takes a pause in his 'remodeling' of the shore to eye Xanthee. Oh, hey, it's the lady who gives kisses! "Kyprioth. Don't get her all muddy." The dragon flops down on his belly, tailtip twitching, as he eyes the girl hopefully with his nose between his forepaws; he's writhing in gleeful anticipation of scritches and kisses. "You, Kyprioth, are ridiculous." A'lira accuses the dragon fondly.

"Well I think he is adorable." Xanthee says with a giggle as she moves towards the pair, deciding she can delay her run for a little bit. Another little snicker when the brownrider chides his dragon and she shrugs, "I was probably going to get muddy from my run anyway." she says as she saunters over to the brown's nose between his forepaws, and finding the least muddy area, offers him some soft scritches. "Good day Kyprioth, having fun?" she knows dragons don't really speak to those people who are not their bonded, but she's gotten into the habit of talking to them like people all the same, might be her weyrbreeding, might be something else, it's just always felt natural to the ebon-haired girl. Then she offers a emerald-eyed gaze at A'lira, "And how are you? Enjoying the weather?" she asks conversationally.

Kyprioth croons happily and nudges that hand. A little to the left, please. "He's definitely having fun, he says. And he is adorable, I agree." Even A'lira isn't proof against his dragon's cuteness; even after nearly three turns, he still melts a little bit when his dragon does something cute, even when the dragon will cost him some cleaning time later on. "Me? I'm enjoying not doing more hidework." His way of enjoying the day, one way or another. Oh, how he misses those days when he had more time for fun — he might even be convinced to roll around in the mud himself.

Xanthee obliges by moving her scritching over to the left as she is being nudged in that direction, as she giggles a little bit, "Ugh hidework." she makes a little face, "That's no fun. I avoid the stuff like the plague." she says as she wrinkles up her nose in distaste. Her hands continue their efforts of scritching the brown, moving over to near his eyeridges.

A'lira wishes he could, but that's his life now: hidework and more hidework. Kyprioth, on the other hand, is a puddle of dragon, thrumming beneath Xanthee's hands. "Himself thinks you're the best scritcher ever, you know." The wherry necked traitor. A'lira grins playfully over at the brown, whose eyes are twice lidded at this point, idly blue in contentment. "So, whatcha been up to, besides all the PT?"

Xanthee snickers the puddle of a brown and the compliment relayed through A'lira and leans in as if she is letting him in on a big secret, "That's because I was doing it since before I could walk even with my mom's brown." she explains before finding a relatively mud-free spot and planting a big kiss on the brown. "And that's why browns are my favorite." she says with a giggle before turning back to the brownrider, "PT, more PT, work at the Tea Room, then a more enjoyable form of PT before bed to round off the day." she says with a hint of playfulness and a saucy wink. "At least if I'm asked to stand for Candidacy again, I'll be in the best shape ever for all the drudgery."

"And now he's in love with you." At least until Igraine gets back home. Then he'll forget Xanthee exists. Like any dragon, his memory is very, very short. The tall brownrider leans against his dragon, heedless of getting his leathers muddy; he'll soon be muddying them up even more. "Hah, I'm sure. Get the jump on those Holder brats."

"Well that's a fine compliment coming from such a great brown as him." Xanthee says with a grin, as she turns back to the brownrider at his comment about holder brats, she scoffs, "Weyrbrats are a much heartier breed than Holder brats, we always show them." She says puffing up with pride at her heritage.

A'lira chuckles his amusement at Xanthee's Weyr pride. He himself is not Weyrbred, but it does mean something that a dragon found him suitable, doesn't it? "Hey, I'm not Weyrbred, you know…" he teases, playful as ever. "But I happen to agree with you."

"Hey, nobody's perfect." Xanthee says with a smirk and another giggle as she tilts her head in his direction, "So where are you from?" Even though the two had been candidates together, she can't remember if he had told her already or not. "And you impressed, so that means you belong more to the Weyr than anywhere else now." she says sagely.

"So they tell me," A'lira agrees, idly picking at a bit of mud on his brown's cheek. "Me? Bitra, actually." The Land of Avarice and Crime. He studies Xanthee for a long moment, then will allow she's absolutely right. "Yeah I'm better off here. Where you from? Here?"

Xanthee raises a brow briefly at the mention of Bitra, she's heard it's reputation. But she merely nods at his question, "I'm Igen Weyr born and bred. and except for one brief couple of months at Southern for Candidacy, have never left. It's home, I can't imagine being anywhere else." She says warmly before she shakes her head a little bit, realizing she might be overdoing it with the Igen Pride. "Did you come here on Search originally or for other reasons?" she asks curiously.

Ah, well, at least he escaped the place before they completely corrupted him! A'lira grins at Xanthee's Weyr pride: no shame in it. "Came here from Kurkar; my Master thought it would do me good to see how the rest of the world lives." More lije get rid of a troublemaker. "Then I got sent here, and R'xim Searched me a mere two days after I got here."

"Kurkar, lots of talk about that place lately." Xanthee says before she shakes her head a little bit as she looks over the brownrider idly, "Well then it sounds like you found where you were meant to be then." She reaches over to run a hand down the brown's nose with a wistful sigh.

Oh, how A'lira hopes Xanthee finds her dragon on the Sands! Clearly the girl is committed to the possibility. "Yeah, I have. Could not have found a better home." Kyprioth croons softly, resting his nose a mere millimeter away from her calf. "I really hope your dragon is on the Sands this time." There's a gentle sympathy in his voice; he knows he got lucky.

Xanthee shrugs and nods, "Everyone's saying that, all my friends at least. But I am Weyrbred, I know how these things go, and I have time yet." Oh doesn't she sound magnanimous? Well inside, Xan is a roiling ball of emotions but at least she hides it well. With a little sigh she leans in for one last kiss to the brown's nose. "I must be off, still wanna get a good run in. Stay safe you two and good flying." She calls as she starts to walk off before breaking into an easy jog.

A'lira will refrain from throwing more platitudes at Xanthee, sure she's heard them all by now; besides, platitudes are usually empty things for when one doesn't quite know what to say, but wants to look like one does. Instead, he'll roll his eyes in amusement as Kyprioth offers the girl a chirp and a nosebump in gratitude for her lovely, lovely scritching before he's chivvied off for his bath. "Happy running in the mud!" He's already done his share of splashing in all the puddles.

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