Xanthee, N'iel, Alsha, Eala, Ibrahim, Ko'an


A sudden rush of cutomers has Xanthee worked off her feet, conversation about the fake blue glow abounds.


It is noon of the first day of the second month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


The Tea Room, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 28 Jan 2018 05:00


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The Tea Room

This shop is easy to miss from the street. It bears the same striped awning that most shops have, this one in shades of lilac and sand, but it has no sign save for a plaque of sandstone hung beside the door, on which a teacup has been carved. When open, the heavy curtain that covers the doorway is pulled aside to allow entry. After stepping through, one will find themselves in a tiny space decorated with classic desert touches.

The walls are whitewashed to increase the sense of light within but the floor is tiled in hues of blue and green, with each tile bearing in its center a brilliant red lotus. There are only five small tables, all of them of dark, heavily carved wood set low to the ground. To sit at one requires reclining on the plethora of pillows and cushions and layered rugs provided for that purpose; each seat is provided with a carved wooden back-prop to rest the pillows against, for those who want spinal support. Tea is served from the service at the rear of the room, where a tiny smokeless hearth keeps water heated, and a row of trays are kept loaded with teapots, tiny cups, and containers for sweetener. There is a small selection of fruits, breads and cheeses also available for those looking for a snack but this is not a place for heavy meals.

Midday in the Tea Room always brings a lull, when most people seek more substantial fare for their lunches. Xanthee is puttering about behind the tea service, catching up on the dishes that had built up during the last rush. Her dark hair hangs in loose waves down past her shoulders as she hums slightly under her breath as she makes quick work of the tea cups and saucers in the wash basin.

A lull is all the better for N'iel's little mission of sorts. The green rider opens the door and steps through the curtains, immediately feeling the warmth of the shop compared to the chill day outside. He'll undo his riding jacket to shrug it off, pausing at the entrance to get a look at who's there. The woman at the basin with the long dark hair - she seems familiar, and, happily, just the person he was hoping to find. Now N'iel will walk towards the rear of the little shop, clearing his throat to ask, "Xanthee?" Just in case he's got the wrong person.

Looking up at the sound of her name, Xanthee sports a quizzical expression before she sees the Southern greenrider and then it changes to one of surprise. "Sir!" she says as she pulls her hands out of the water, drying them off on a nearby towel before she steps towards him. "What brings you to Igen? Can I get you a drink?" she says as she smiles warmly at him.

N'iel can't help but grin broadly at that title. "No need for that, Xanthee. I'm just a wingrider now." He shifts his jacket to better display the Lynx badge there. "Actually, it was you I wanted to see." He'll slip into a chair at the nearest table, adding, "a drink'd be great. I need something to warm me up!" Settling in the chair involves putting his jacket over the back, and pulling off the gloves he's fortunately elected to don for this visit. Ah, winter!

"After two Candidacies, every rider is Sir or Ma'am till they tell me otherwise." Xanthee remarks with a smile as she moves to the small hearth and places a kettle over the heat to boil. "So what would are you in the mood for? We have a wide variety of teas for all tastes." she says as she prepares a small tray and then she realizes he said he came to see her and she looks up at him slightly puzzled. "Why would you want to come see me Si-I mean N'iel?"

Alsha is well wrapped as she enters, but immediately tosses back her hood and starts unwinding her long scarf. She heads towards the back of the room, smiling at Xanthee as soon as she realises who's on duty, but not speaking yet as there's another customer ahead of her. Mizar isn't so restrained; pokes his head out from the neck of her cloak, and warbles a greeting to whoever will hear - or perhaps he's just happy today.

N'iel gives a soft laugh at that. "Good point. Well, N'iel is fine by me." Oh yeah, there's more than one sort of tea to choose from, isn't there? "Ah - well, I quite like sweet drinks, if that helps. I'm not much of a tea expert." But he's here in a place that serves such things, so he can learn something today. Oh yeah - that matter of why he came to see her. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I was too busy to visit for a while-" the whole looking after Weyrlings thing implied, but not explicitly stated - "and then I had Lynx to adapt to but…now I've some spare time, well…." He makes it all sound sos convoluted, explaining it like that with a sheepish smile. And hey, there's another customer, Alsha getting a look for the warbling. Maybe it's not going to be so quiet!

Xanthee spies Alsha and offers her a discrete wave, but also a furrow of her brow at the bronze's warbling. Then when N'iel mentions something sweet she smiles, "I know just the thing. The Zingari Yellow, it's a pleasantly fruity. kind of sweet tea." She says as she pulls the appropriate cannister off the shelf to measure out it out into the tea pot before she grabs the now boiling kettle and pours it in. Letting it steep she puts a hand on her hip and cocks her head to one side to look at the greenrider. "It's so funny that you should show up just a month after a certain Southern brownrider ruined my Turnday party." She says, smile still on her lips, but with a suspicious note in her voice as she narrows her eyes slightly. Then she turns her attention to Alsha and asks, maybe a little too cheery, "What'll it be for you?"

Eala is in uniform, clearly on duty as she steps into the Tea Room. The temperatures outside are beginning to creep their way through her leathers, and the greenrider is in desperate need of something to warm her up — and maybe give her the energy to keep tracking down those fools who things it's a good idea to use whatever blue nonsense comes their way. Her face falls slightly when she sees the pending line, but at least it seems to be moving. Dutifully, she steps into place behind Alsha, casting a glance back toward the door and the chill that awaits her as soon as she returns to her patrol.

Alsha looks at the canister that has just provided N'iel's tea, then scans the edibles on offer. "I don't think I've tried that Zingari yellow yet. May I have some of that, please? And perhaps some of that fruited bread?" As the little bronze warbles again, she adds, "Hush!" and raises a hand to calm him. "Excuse my friend. He's not fond of this weather, I'm afraid. He's happy as soon as he gets warm, and when he's happy, he wants to tell the world."

"Fruity - sounds perfect." Like a cocktail in the Tipsy Kitten, sans the alcohol, right? N'iel relaxes back into his seat, though he frowns when Xanthee mentions F'kan. "Yes - he's been moved into Lynx, actually." He's trying to be polite about it, but he does sound a little annoyed by the whole arrangement. "I'd heard he'd caused trouble over here, but I didn't realise it was on your birthday. Sorry to hear it." He'll go quiet to let Xanthee deal with Alsha's order, smiling at the chatty fire-lizard. And hey, another customer! A Wingsecond, apparently - N'iel will nod to her, touching his fingers to his temple politely.

And just when Xanthee thought she had all she could manage, in slips another face! This one is new to Igen, and possibly unenthused about all that damn sand and cold. Give him back his tropics, kthx plz. Fortunately, he'd thought to wrap up in as many layers of jacket as he owns to bear the freeze. Oh, those Southern boys, they just aren't made for this. Ibrahim finds himself a suitable spot to hover in, away from the door, yearning for the warmth of teas introduced to him by a certain Zingari-turned-Weyrwoman — but he's not sure this is the place, having not heard previous orders already given.

It's more than telling that the man with kohl-rimmed seablue eyes darkens the doorway not moments after the Parhelion wingsecond. There's a smirk on his face, cocky. Dripping in a familiar arrogance. A glance strays across the room, a mindful sweep. Oh, he's not had the best of reputations here. But it has served his purposes when he's come, whether that is of entertainment or buisness, for if anyone knows him- tea is not his ideal drink. It wouldn't take much to ascertain his drink of choice, either. Ko'an is garbed in black leathers, a shorter jacket than his typical flowing long coat, his vest beneath just as dark and imprinted with some sort of obscure pattern, all of which speaking nothing of where he hails. He comes up behind the end of the line, a hand pressed to Eala's back as he comes up behind her with brows risen as he leans in just enough to speak lowly in his gravel-touched accented voice, "Hello, love." Then, straightening after a passing glance over N'iel, "Tell me your break is long enough to take more than a drink and be on your way."

"Sure no problem." Xanthee says to Alsha's order and then spying that wingsecond from the other night in the Kitchens, she leans over and asks her, "And you? It's just faster if I work in batches." she explains as she checks on N'iel's pot and sees that it is nicely steeped and then pours the liquid through a strainer into the teacup which is placed on a saucer and delivered to where he's sitting. "Well, not on my actual Turnday, just the party I was hosting to celebrate it. I'm sorry you're having to deal with him again. I daren't ask how he's doing, cause frankly I don't care." Maybe she's trying just a little too hard at being cold and dismissive. Oh look, two more customers, "I will be right with you gentlemen." she says as she bustles back to put more water on to boil.

Eala eyes that noisy firelizard with faint amusement, all too aware of the occasionally vocal habits of the annoying creatures. At least hers seem largely to keep to Oriahysciath's side when they don't want food. She acknowledges N'iel's greeting with a tip of her head — seems that Igen is getting an influx of Southerners today. When Xanthee — that betting girl — puts her on the spot, she answers, "I don't honestly care, as long as it's warm. An energy boost wouldn't hurt, either. Thank you." Because she's dragging today. As a familiar hand comes to rest upon her back, she turns her head to greet her weyrmate with a faint smile. "I'm afraid I've only got enough time to warm up with a drink before I head out again. There are too many fools out there trying to kill themselves with blue nonsense."

So much for a quiet lunch period. Two Southerners, a gaggle of Igenites - Xanthee's got her hands full, so it would seem. But hey, she's got his tea done, so everything is going to be fine! The greenrider wraps his hands around the mug, enjoying the heat. "I'm hoping this time he'll learn his lesson," is all he'll say of F'kan, hushing to blow on the tea, watching the other customers as he does so. He's happy to watch the interactions, especially the almost posessive manner the newly arrived bronzerider has with the Wingsecond. N'iel will avert his eyes from them, not one to stare.

Alsha turns curiously to see who's talking about blue nonsense - she's had her own recent run-in with a phoney blue glow. "Fakes everywhere," she comments. Then she moves aside to let the people behind her get to the counter, as Xanthee seems to be taking her orders in batches. She continues her adaptation to interior warmth by unwrapping her cloak and letting it hang from her shoulders, revealing that she's wearing the cable-stitched sweater of a Tillek fisherman underneath. Cosy!

Ibrahim settles in a little further, huddling in his jackets like a small turtle. Brrr. But there's Xanthee, acknowledging his existence, and he gives her a quiet nod, and prepares for a bit of a wait — the place seems to be hopping right now. And then, the trail end of Eala's sentence catches his ear: "… blue nonsense." One of the reasons he's here, after all, for somehow — somehow! — his entire damn family have gotten wind way down in the Jungles about that stuff. Someone really has to ban the gossips among his people from Gathers, for the tales are wild and out of control. Naturally, they've sent the one member of their group who has had some experience out in the world to go forth and investigate. Oh, this will cost them, and cost them dearly. Idly, he pulls one corded braid round to twist 'round his finger.

A slight shift of motion brings about the quiet squeak of leather, the soft tinkling of metal. A chuckle comes from deep in his chest, one of those things barely audible. Ko'an's grin fades by a couple of degress, however, when his assumptions are confirmed. "And I cannot convince you otherwise, I take it?" Convince her to take a longer break, that is. "Those scallywags won't get too far in the course of a candlemark or two." A poor argument, but he's not trying too hard. Just testing the waters. While he doesn't move from her side, he does rub over the rough scruff of his face, then gestures with that silver ring'd hand in a dismissive sort of motion. "Aye." This last confirmation to the combination of Alsha and Ibrahim's additions. "Or so I've heard, anyway." The smirk returns, unevenly, amused, "It's seemed to have kept you busy enough lately." Because that's all he knows of it, certainly. That 'you' was towards Eala, but seemed far more likely to encorporate those invested ears nearby. To Xanthee, there's a wink, a subtle notion that he'd not be ordering for the moment.

As a waitress, Xanthee just loves a good sudden rush of customers as she bustles around busily, her almost two turns of experience making her quick at her job when needed. So when she has two more pots steeping, some Zingari Yellow for Alsha and a House black for Eala, she turns to Ibrahim and Ko'an and is about to ask for their orders, but then catches Ko'an subtle signal that he isn't there to buy. Well then, she turns to Ibrahim with a smile, "And you sir? What can I get you?" She says with her usual bright smile plastered on her face.

"Don't buy any of it," is Eala's immediate warning response when she hears Alsha's words. "Trust me, the side effects of the fakes aren't worth it. Not to mention your wasted marks." She raises her voice just loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room. It's unlikely such declarations are going to stop the truly determined, but at least she can try. She steps to the side, gently elbowing Ko'an to urge him to move with her to clear the way for Xanthee to take Ibrahim's order. "I'm trying to avoid another case of someone doing a crazed dance in the lake," she tells her bronzerider in a lower tone, grimacing as she says it. Even if her words are overheard, she's not concerned — surely the rumors already abound. "I have to at least try to protect people from themselves, and the guards eventually need breaks." And she doesn't? Apparently not, given how much time she has been spending at work lately. Thus, the black tea.

Crap, discovered! Maybe he can still eavesdrop, or whatever; nobody seems to be objecting to his presence so far. Besides, he's already done his duty in swinging by the Weyr infirmary to pick up herbs and drop others off, and gather what information to pass on to Southern that hasn't already gone out to take back with him. Non-urgent things; things that any apprentice or infirmary assistant might andle over the course of the day and take some weight off Varden's hands. As Xanthee turns to him and smiles at him, he cants his head to one side, smiling a little. More information is picked up, in the form of fakes being passed off as real — hopefully none of it's made its way South as yet. "Well." He leans back a little, studying the menu for a moment. "I've heard the Zingari Blue is the tea to have." His smile is friendly enough, his gaze even and gentle — patient. Somehow, he recognizes this girl, mostly by description. Soon or late, she'll probably cotton on as well, and pierce the eardrums with her fabled squeals of glee.

"I can well believe it," Alsha replies to Eala. "The one I first came across, and reported, was an obvious fake - just ordinary glows painted blue, and the paint was already coming off in large flakes." That's said with a glance towards Xanthee, who heard the story on an earlier occasion. "I can't imagine how they thought anyone would be fooled by it. I've seen a couple of other things since which were rather better, but none of them would have convinced anyone with a bit of sense." She finds herself a seat at a table that already has a couple of people at it, there being little free space at present, murmurs a request to the other occupants, then drapes her cloak and scarf over the back.

The bronzerider follows shortly after Eala, summoned into motion by the gentle prodding and her movement away from a position he otherwise likely would've claimed despite clearly being in the way. "I hadn't heard of such a thing." The crazy lake dance, that is. That smirk broadens, as if it's far less a negative thing, and far more.. entertaining. "I did hear tell from the infirmary about some less than preferable side effects, but I've yet to have such a brilliant demonstration as that." There's a soft hum from him, considering, "That I can imagine, lass." This, to Alsha, "Desperate times and all, especially for something someone's only heard of in rumors." Seablue eyes observe the journeywoman at length, briefly distracted from his prior engagement of extracting Eala from the depths of her duties, "One can imagine it wouldn't take much to convince one who's never seen it, aye?" Easy to separate that sort from their marks, at least. While the typical Igen streetrat probably has a better head on its shoulders, an outsider.. well.. "Aye, as do you." This now back to Eala's comment about breaks. "We've quite missed you." The 'we' goes unexplained to the general public, but of course he follows up with a more direct, "I, in particular." He has his hours away, but those evenings that keep her busy far longer into the night are never missed. "What say you, we sail off into the horizon sometime soon. Clear your head and all that."

"Zingari Blue then, excellent choice." Xanthee says as she turns to pull another canister of tea from a nearby shelf. After setting the Zingari Blue to steep, she hears Alsha re-tell the story she had previously heard and she pipes up curiously, "Did you ever let the guards know about that one Alsha?" she asks as she peeks at the other two pots steeping. Seeing they are ready, she pours them out into their receptive cups, placing them on matching saucers. The yellow is deposited on the tray with the fruit bread, while the black is handed over to Eala once she catches the wingsecond's eye. After that the tray is balanced easily as she brings the tea and bread over to Alsha, depositing it in front of her with a smile before she is off again to check on Ibrahim's pot while the discussion of the blue glow is discussed around her, the information being absorbed quietly by the raven-haired girl.

"They're harder to identify when they're being sold in vials." And then being ingested, or rubbed on places where the sun doesn't shine. There's a small wince from the greenrider as her thoughts go in this direction — there are things you just can't unsee. "It's better to avoid all of it, because you just don't know." Eala reaches for her tea when Xanthee offers it, murmuring a quiet thank you as she grips the saucer. She doesn't drink right away, allowing the hot liquid a moment to cool before trying it. "At least he kept most of his clothes on," she tells Ko'an with a small shake of her head. With any luck, overhearing such horror stories will convince others to keep their heads about them. It's not her most conventional strategy. "Whenever things calm down, maybe I can take some time off. Although with R'xim gone…" It's less and less likely.

"Yes, and showed them the shop," Alsha tells Xanthee, adding a word of thanks when the tea is brought. "And it was the guard I spoke to who showed me the others he'd found. One of them did have a fair amount of glow about it - I think they'd mashed up ordinary glows with something blue. While I wouldn't mind finding something that could make lettering readable at night, I've really not seen anything in the bazaar that would convince me to buy it." She settles into her chair, and exchanges a few words of explanation with her table-mates before sampling her tea.

Now the Tea Room is bustling, N'iel will quietly drink his tea, doing his best to be unobtrusive to Xanthee's work. Once the cup is empty, it will be left neatly for collection, before he puts on his jacket and covertly slips back out into the cold of the bazaar, to go about some other business while he's in the area. There will be other visits to Igen, no doubt, but he's at least seen that Xanthee is well.

Ibrahim nearly wriggles in anticipation of a good cuppa tea, knowing how delicious the various flavors are; meanwhile he quietly listens in on the gossip and banter going on around him. Eventually, though, he simply has to know — "What's this about teenagers eating the stuff?" he asks of Xanthee when she's near enough to hear; the girl seems to be in on the thick of things, and knowing of all the details. "They've been talking about it in Southern." He lifts a shoulder, shrugging his lack of any real information. He does know there's a lot of excitement around a new, potential — if exotic — cure; there in the Jungles from which he hails, all the exotic things are tried eventually in order to keep the people alive and hale, where they lack true Healers to deal with things.

There is a tangible albeit minute change in Ko'an at the descriptors that come of his greenrider's tale. That arrogance, that authoritative posture that comes of his presence that is- or at least he prefers to believe- is larger than the room, becomes less pleased, less amused. "Aye." A flat sound, that's minimally agreeable seems to be in light of the man that had kept 'most' of his clothes on. Whatever had come before that became overshadowed quickly enough by a figment of his volatile possessiveness. It doesn't seem to go further than that. Or at least, not in the present location. Fortunately. Ko'an sighs his disapproval towards the concept of 'maybe' taking time off, a flicker of concern, possibly frustration trespassing into his previously roguishly playful demeanor. His free hand scratches at the base of his earring'd ear, eyes closing for a second with wrinkles etched across his furrowed brow. "That's what your fellow wingsecond is for." Regardless, he eases enough to not push it. Not now. Rather, he leans forward to kiss her on her forehead if she allows it, a gentle pressure at her back until he relents. "Come home to me tonight, love. I'll be back just after Rukbat sets." And then he's stepping away to leave her to her duties, dissolving back into the shadow he'd made at the tea shop's entrance and the Bazaar's bustling crowd beyond.

When the Zingari blue is finally done steeping, Xanthee pours it out and brings it over to where Ibrahim is, arriving just in time to hear his comment about the teens eating the stuff. "Oh yeah, teeangers have been daring each other to eat the stuff. It's this whole thing amoung the young and immature." she says with a little scoff, her own seventeen turn self above such childish nonsense. Seeing as she has served everyone, she gives Ibrahim a long look. "You're from Southern sir?" She asks conversationally. "I was there for a few months a turn or so ago. Why ever would you leave summer in Southern for winter up here in the desert?" she says with a little giggle.

Eala merely arches a brow, a subtle warning to the bronzerider at her side that he'd better keep his damn mouth shut. There's a slight shift in her body language as she leans away from him in the face of that momentary possessiveness, clearly disapleased. "She won't be my 'fellow Wingsecond' for long." Not if she has her way — the greenrider has her eye on that Wingleader knot, as always. She allows that kiss, although there's still a slight stiffness to her posture which suggests that she's not entirely comfortable. "As long as no one does anything too stupid, I'll be there." Given the current climate, though, there are no promises. Alsha's conversation is overheard, and the greenrider looks away from her departing weyrmate to speak to her. "Thank you for reporting that. We need as many people reporting what they've seen and where they've seen it as possible." The temptation to explain that the blue glows aren't being used to reading is there, but she'd rather not make the stuff more appealing.

"Eating it!" Alsha shakes her head in disbelief at the idiocy of the young. She'd much rather eat fruit bread, which is what she's just been sampling. She nods to Eala. "That sort of thing has to be stopped." Then Xanthee's earlier question to Ibrahim has her turning a professionally curious gaze on the Southerner. "It must be very humid there at this time of year, as well as hot? I must go over at some point - to your main Hold there as well. I believe they have an excellent observatory." Yep, this is a starcrafter.

Oh, indeed? Ibrahim's grin is very, very wide as Xanthee dismisses youthful mischief with so much poise; she can't be much older than the ones engaging in stupid dares just to prove their courage. But he manages to be as calm as a sunny day when he responds. "I am from Southern — here as general dogsbody to the Healers." Which healers, he doesn't specify quite yet, especially since he often isn't sure himself! There are Healers and there are Healers down there. "And yes, I do believe I remember you from the last class. The one that saw Th'res and Amani Impress, if I am remembering correctly." The two he's spent the most time with, before and since that magical day. And then Alsha is leaning in, asking after the observatory. "I believe they do, Journeywoman." He's entirely unsure, however, having not spent much time around the Holds settled there to see anything of note.

Nodding as the man confirms his orgins, Xanthee's eyes shadow just briefly when he mentions her ill-fated candidacy at Southern Weyr, but she forces another bright smile on her lips as she merely nods, "That's right! Weyrwoman Amani is actually one of my dearest friends actually, and I know Th'res well indeed, we still write to each other occasionally. I'm Xanthee by the way." She says with another smile as she looks over the room to see if anyone else needs her.

"Apparently rumors will make you do all sorts of things. And it's not just the young." Given the age of the man who recently found himself in the brig. Eala finally raises her teacup to her lips, blowing gently over the surface of the drink before taking a sip. That hits the spot. Being inside certainly helps with those terrible temperatures, but a warm drink is magic. "It's better to leave all of it to those who know what they're doing." In other words, those authorized to study the stuff. With those words, the greenrider settles herself in an open seat, sipping slowly at her tea.

Alsha nods to Eala, but then one of her table companions asks her a question about tomorrow's weather, and she's diverted into a new conversation, until such time as she's finished her tea and bread, and goes on her way.

Mm-mm; that's good stuff, that Zingari blue! Ibrahim, too, blows across its surface before taking his first, delicate sip. Well-steeped, nicely flavored — it's the real deal, all right. He's nothing to do with any experimentation on blue bug poo, or whatever it is; all he's to do is find out what he can, and report back for those who are going to be conducting experiments. He is, fortunately, not among those folk; he's enough to do with his particular duties. "Xanthee? Oh, yes, Amani speaks of you so fondly. She really does like you. I'm Ibrahim." And he dimples playfully at Xanthee. "You know, feral Wildling and all that noise. Or whatever the current crop of rumors are regarding my innocent person."

Getting distracted by Eala's talk of rumours, Xanthee nods, "It's really sad. I at least try to set people straight when I've been hearing the gossip about this of late." She says magnanimously, as if it's the least she can do for the betterment of the Weyr. But then something the Southern man says tickles at something in the back of her mind as he gives his name and names himself a Wildling. Then it clicks and her emerald eyes grow wide in her head, and a small squeal is cut off as she clamps her hand over her mouth. "You're Amani's fella?!?" She says in excited tones as she gives him a thorough once over, taking in every detail of the man.

There's a brief smile for Xanthee as the girl mentions attempting to clear up rumors. "Good. Thank you. Unfortunately, desperation breeds trouble." And there are plenty of desperate people around Igen, it seems. Or just fools — it's hard to tell, at this point. The greenrider makes quick work of her tea now that it's cool enough to drink, polishing it off in a matter of minutes. She does make an attempt to catch Xanthee's eye as she makes her way over to the counter, leaving both payment and a generous tip there for the girl whenever she should return. And then Eala wraps her jacket more tightly around her body as she steps out to face the cold once again.

And so he is! Ah, man, Xanthee's a quick one. Ibrahim laughs in delight, actually clapping his hands in ausement. "Dead in the black." He'll withstand her scrutiny with calm aplomb, casually sipping his tea. He knew he'd be inspected the second one of Amani's friends or family got ahold of him; he might as well get used to it, for he's certain Amani has told her friend all about him. "And you are her good friend Xanthee."

"Oh you better bet I am, one of her best friends actually, and just so we get this out of the way real quick, you hurt her, you will have me to answer to." Xanthee says fiercely, but her emerald eyes dance with mischief as she leans back a little bit, hands resting on her hips, "Well you certainly are wild looking." she muses to herself as she tilts her head to one side. "How is Amani? I saw her about a month and a half ago now. But then.." she pauses before she continues, he may be Amani's beau, but she only just met him, and she isn't sure how much he knows.

Ibrahim holds up his hands as though to fend off the ferocious girl. "No, ma'am, not I." Amani is much, much too priceless to him to squander the careful relationship they'd built over the Turns — had it really been nearly two since they'd met? — and risk losing her through stupidity. With a laugh, Ibrahim runs a hair over his fuzzy dreadlocked hair and shrugs. "It is our way to leave our hair be to go its own way." At least among his little group, wild, long hair represents a certain maturity and strength, having achieved the necessary patience to allow one's hair to form its own identity. "Don't tell me. You had an unfortunate meeting with a certain young asshole." Oh, he knows; he knows, and does not like the man. "I've had the misfortune of meeting that man, and the only reason I haven't skewered him and left him for the fishes is his dragon. He boasted to me mere days after the incident, as if I would congradulate him on scoring." His disgust cannot be any plainer than the scornful curl of his lip, and the deep, fierce scowl that knits his eyebrows.

Satisfied with his answer to her not so thinly-veiled threat, Xanthee nods a little bit, a smile creeping over her features as she takes another quick accounting of the room, but it seems to have quieted down so she slips into a chair across from Ibrahim, "Well I think it looks very good on you anyway." she says in response to the explanation on why his hair is like it is. Then the conversation flows to the Southern brownrider who's name is mud to this particular weyrbrat. "Wait he boasted about being beat up?" she asks, slightly confused.

Ibrahim laughs. "Well, thank you, Xanthee." He's glad the girl approves of his look! And then he shakes his head, hastily swallowing his mouthful of tea — the stuff really is addictive; he's gonna have to spirit away a small bag of his own — to explain, "When… you know." He waves a hand at her, unwilling to bring up that terrible time when things went south for Xanthee. "I'd been going for a run about the Bowl, and met him. He started talking, and out it came. I almost punched him right then."

Xanthee is still slightly confused and then she cottons on to what he is saying and sighs heavily as she runs her hand through raven locks. "Oh. That time. Bragging was he? I am so not surprised. I can't even imagine ever going to Southern again for fear of what I would do if I ran into that piece of runner excrement." the venom in her voice is biting as she pinches the bridge of her nose and takes several deep breaths to try and bring herself down from the rage bubbling inside her.

Taking a risk. Ibrahim leans close enough to try and pat her on the shoulder. She's such a good girl; this is hardly the way to have been treated. "Don't let him ruin it for you." His voice is low and fierce. "I assure you, no one in the Weyr will let him near you. The leadership is watching him like a hawk, and he's barely allowed to breathe without permission these days. They'd lock him up if he so much as looked at you funny."

Xanthee smirks a little bit as the Wildling pats her shoulder and she just looks at it and then flicks her gaze back to him, but she'll let it slide for now. But then she snorts derisively as Ibrahim goes on about what F'kan's life looks like right now. "Yeah, but who can say it's actually going to help? He was punished heavily as well when he was caught with me and that only seemed to make him worse if the last time I laid eyes on him is any indication." She shudders a little bit, "He was like a wild man." She says and then winces as she looks at him, "Sorry, no offense meant."

"Oh, none taken!" Ibrahim laughs, moving his hand away, choosing to wrap it aroung his tea mug. "And yeah, I can see why you would be skeptical. It just… it annoys me that you feel unsafe because of him, and I want to try and make it safe for you. You shouldn't be denied access to the friends you've made in Southern becaue of that jackass." One fist is balled, the knuckles whitening beneath his brown skin. "Damn the man. Maybe Amani can order him out of the Weyr when hyou want to visit?" He's hopeful, now.

With a suspicious look at this Southern Wildling, Xanthee narrows her eyes just a little bit. "That's very kind coming from someone I just met today." Her eyebrow raises quizically but then he is mentioning Amani ordering him out of the Weyr and she quickly holds her hands up in protest. "I would never presume to ask a weyrwoman, best friend or not, to use her influence in such a way." The Weyrbreeding is strong in this one. "And I appreciate your righteous indignation on my behalf, but really, if you are trying to butter me up to help you with Amani, it's so not necessary. She is obviously quite taken with you and your wild ways." That is accompanied by a mischievous wink.

"More like my sole meeting with the man has left me with a feeling of being permanently beslimed by sharing a gender with him." Ibrahim retorts, rubbing a hand over his kneecap as though trying to wipe away the scumminess. "You just don't treat young women like that, and he damn well ought to have known better." And then he's rubbing at his face, sighing. "I'm sorry. I just… he makes me furious. Whether you knew better, or you didn't, or you 'came on' to him or whatever lie he wanted to tell himself for being a slimy bastard — " Yeah, Ibrahim heard all F'kan's lame-ass excuses, and bought none of them. " — he should have known better. And behaved like a man instead of a child." A wildling's got standards, yo. He looks up at Xanthee, and begins to laugh, weakly. "Oh, faranth, no. It's just, you seem to be a good young woman, and hearing the way he talked? Trust me, he didn't win my friendship."

Xanthee has to giggle slightly at how adament this man is about his dislike for the brownrider and gives a little shake of her head as she smiles. "Well I definitely appreciate that. And there may be some truth that I wasn't totally innocent in our initial liason.." she says cautiously, not one to dismiss her own part she played in the whole mess. "But I appreciate the support anyway, I definitely can see why Amani is so taken with you." She says with a knowing smile.

"But you are honest enough to admit your culpability." Ibrahim points out logically. "Everything I've heard about the whole incident points to you having been honest and accepting your just punishment, and him being a slimy beast." Ibrahim shrugs, amused. His sense of justice is honed to a keen edge, and seems to have found a home in the slicing of F'kan's tattered reputation. "And I… am taken with her. Aks her how long I courted her sometime." Hint: it was the entire candidacy and then ome. His grin, now, is pure mischief. "Those beautiful brown eyes of hers…" He sighs, hand to heart. "Just taming a man whether he wants to or not." But wait, is that the lizard that looks to his ride? "Sharditall. I'm being summoned. Hopefully, Amani will have time to come visit you soon. I know she misses you."

As Ibrahim speaks of Amani, Xanthee's eye's dance mirtfully as she takes in all his words and files them away for future reference. When he muses over her eyes though, she lets out a little giggle and a nod of approval before he is summoned away, "No worries at all, and do pass on my greetings to her when next you see and tell her I would love to see her when she has time for it. It was very nice to meet you Ibrahim." Xanthee states with a little friendly wink as she gets back up and back to work.

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