If there's any consolation to the morning, it's probably the fact that sand isn't blowing directly into one's face. It's post-drills for Arroyo and some might spy a cranky - and sweaty - wingsecond make her way to the kitchen courtyard to make use of that well. No time for a bath when there's more to do. Selaine plops ungracefully onto the edge of the well, stirring up clouds of sand. Her face twists as she brings up a hand to cover her mouth and nose while the other busies itself with dropping the bucket down into the well with a loud splash. Once the sand settles, she works both arms to bring up that bucket of water.

It is not an unfamiliar scene, F'in darting out of the entrance to the Kitchens and ducking around the corner to hide while a be-floured Kitchen worker huffs out to stand, arms akimbo, glowering into the Courtyard. It's not unfamiliar, but it's been a while. "You there!" The cook glowers at Selaine and then squints, bespying under all that dust and grime, her rider's leathers. Her fancy knot. "Er… my pardon, Wingsecond. You didn't see anyone go this way did you?" F'in's eyes go wide and he shakes his head quickly to Selaine in silent communication. SELAINE DIN'T SEE ANYONE.

Not unfamiliar, but certainly unexpected as the bronzerider dashes out into Selaine's vision. The bucket is ignored for the time being as she raises an eyebrow in his direction, until she gets distracted by the cook. The call makes her eyebrow shoot up further (if that's even possible) until she's properly addressed. Blue gaze shifts, from the be-floured cook to F'in's hiding place. "I think he ran out that way?" And she points oh-so-helpfully towards the bowl. "Thank ye, ma'am." And the cook dips her head awkwardly. "F'IN. YOU COME BACK HERE WITH THOSE PASTRIES—!" And the cook goes hollering in the direction of the bowl, unsuspecting of the greenrider's false words, yelling her lungs out. She'll surely faint before it even hits noon in this heat… and the fact that she'll never find the bronzerider in that direction. Selaine watches with some amusement as the cook disappears before turning to F'in's hiding spot, shaking her head. "A bit early to be bothering the cooks, don't you think?"

"Pshhhh. They've been up since the cracka. 'fore us, even." And that's SAYING something. Riders get up EARLY. F'in grins and saunters forward, every bit as dusty as Selaine, though some clean bits, maybe because he was swatted. "Hope she dun go far. She's not in any shape ta be chasin' after me." He brandishes those pastries. Chilled yellowfruit tart custards. Delicious. "Thanks." The pilfered pastry is offered by way of gratitude. He draws up and salutes Selaine proper like. "Mornin,' ma'am." The sunny smile makes all the formality and propriety of it nearly worthless. "How's it," he tosses a chin in the abstract direction of Selaine's Wing, "O'er there in Arroyo." Bitran's lilt renders that Uh-roooy-oh. He looks at the well and Selaine's hand on the crank, fumbling the pastries into her hands, "'ere. Lemme." He'll draw the water.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to just take those pastries." Selaine returns, eying those brandished pastries. She looks resigned though as she takes the offered custard. She'll not say no since they've been taken already. And hey, she's hungry after drills! "Morning, F'in." Sunny demeanor does bring about a small smile on her lips. The greenrider shrugs absently. "Same as always, I suppose. Less people." Her gaze shifts in said abstract direction for a moment, only to suddenly have more pastries thrust into her hands. "Oh, thanks." She peers down into the well, leaning precariously over the edge before straightening out. "What about Whirlwind? And you? Been a while."

"No." F'in hangs his head, looking at the pastry now. Forlorn. "Just seemed a bit o' fun. The stuffy Holders won'… miss it." Awwww. F'in's all sad now. The well. OH GOOD. He can do something useful. Redeem himself. He turns the crank, watching the rise of sweet, cool water as it approaches in lurching sweeps of the handle. His attention sharpens when Selaine leans out over the well, watching closely until she sits back. "No complaints. Back ta drills and Falls." He'd been sidelined with a massive score on his back, nothing invasive, but the surface area alone was danger enough. "Dinna expect ta miss it all so." He squints up at the sky from under the scant shade of the well's shelter. In short order the bucket is reachable and he grabs the handle. "Worked out a new strap design with 'Nari."

A frown turns the edges of her lips downward at the news. "You've been out? I… didn't even know." Selaine's brows furrow, as she stares down at the pastries in her hand. "Some friend I am…" she mutters softly. A lot of her own wing had been out for the count, too, but still. The greenrider chances a glance back up eventually and nods understandingly. "Yea… I know…" She still remembers the score she got on her arm from a while back and she frees a hand to rub it subconsciously. Eyes watch as he takes the bucket, the water sploshing about and spilling over the sides. "Oh yea?" That's invitation enough for him to tell her more if he wants.

"Half th' Weyr's been out, Selaine," it's an out and gracefully offered. "Ya wouldna seen me at the Infirmary anyroad," inny-roooood. One: F'in doesn't like the infirmary. He has to be ordered there. And even then, doesn't stick around unless he gets suckered into candystriping for old Aunties — which he is ACES at. Two: The Reika have healers of their own. He settles the bucket carefully, now it's free, before snaring the ladle from its hook. He offers the handle to Selaine. Ladies first. He nods, "Somethin' I was thinkin' of after so many were wounded. "'s talkin' to Rev about Solkelth." An Arroyo blue, Solkelth is J'dal's. J'dal whose blue was injured and has to have special straps. Every set of riding straps is unique, but most are at least… symmetrical. Not Solkelth's. And after that terrible Fall months ago, there are still more lopsided dragons. "Figured a way ta balance uneven straps." He scrunches his face, "I think."

"Still…" Selaine doesn't take the out easily, concern still etching her expression in replacement of prior irritation, though it's still just underneath the surface, no thanks to Akitith. She does take the offered ladle, drinking generously from it, letting it cool her off. Some of the remaining water gets splashed into her hands, used to clean off the grim and dust before wiping her face. There's a slight wince as he mentions Solkelth. "Ah… that'd be… good." She's wary, though. "Still working on it or do you have a… um… what do you call it… a prototype?"

"Selaine, don' beat yerself up, lass." Endearment in the tone, Selaine's of an age in many ways to be near as close as a clutchmate. It's certainly that amount of fondness and connection the bronzerider feels. "Ya got a whole Wing ta worry about. And with yer senior 'second of at Southern…" he shrugs. "Ya c'n make it up ta me howe'er ya like though." He grins, a genuine beam at Selaine, mischief there, sure, but mostly the warmth of the man showing through bright eyes and bright smile. "Aye, got a rig built 's designed not only fer imbalances, but ta be put on and off one-armed." He coughs and takes the ladle back, eying Selaine above it before he drinks, "It's Onari's work mostly. Truth told."

"I will make it up to you somehow." Selaine says with some feeling behind it, and a smaller smile is returned, though not quite the beam of the bronzerider's. "Be sure of it." She just doesn't know exactly how yet. But it'll happen at some point. The pastry in her hand finally gets tasted, now that her parched throat has been satisfied, as F'in explains the new straps. "Well, either way, I'm sure there are plenty of riders that will be very grateful for something like that. Would've been useful for me, too… back when my arm was in a sling."

"I'm sure ya will," nevermind that continued bright beaming Selaine. He simply can't help it. His is a face that wants to smile. A voice that wants to laugh. F'in drinks now, deeply, and several ladles, before hanging the ladle back on the hook. He nods at Selaine's assessment, leaning against the heavy stones of the well enclosure. "Aye, I was thinkin' o' you." He tosses his head now at the Reika encampment, "I recall what a time ya had with yer arm all…" he tucks his arm up to his side as if in a sling, wincing in remembrance of his own injuries. He squints off towards the bowl, "I should apologize." NOW he suggests it, after Selaine's started eating. Whoops.

Memories come unbidden and Selaine winces as well as the phantom pain pierces through her arm. She rubs at it, staring ruefully before she shakes her head as if to dispel the thoughts. Blue eyes flicker upwards, only to follow F'in's head toss. "Well, we've both only a scar left, so it's not so bad. But the others…" That will actually need those kind of straps permanently… The suggestions makes her hand pause halfway to her mouth and the greenrider purses her lips. Only to bring the custard back up after a light shrug. Too late anyway! "Maybe." she adds. So HELPFUL.

"Yer lookin' awful grim. Y'aright?" The Wings are still reeling from the casualties, it's a strain everyone's bearing up under. Wingleadership especially. His own fate and what he should do to make ammends for his thieving ways fall to the wayside in the face of Selaine's gray mood. "Anything I c'n do? Y'wanna get outta here?" F'in certainly needs to do one of two things: make an escape or make an apology.

The question F'in asks brings about another wince from Selaine. "Um…" Her gaze flickers toward the bowl where Akitith rests, hide glowing. And probably flirting. No shame, that one. "Been better?" Even she's not sure. The pastry gets nibbled on, eyes cast downward into her lap before looking back up at F'in. "You're fine, F'in… thank you, though. Can't really go anywhere, can I? Got sweeps and reports to do later." And she sighs. Big sigh. She'll help herself some more to that water, thanks.

Rhakanth has been stretched upon his perch over the spreading wagons of the Trader caravans, watching the ebb and flow of the tiny lives of men winding through their moving shelters. Watching the changing winds of folk in the Bazaar, their shelters seemed less transient, but on the scale of the stone upon which Rhakanth rests and the sand which, in the passage of time, it will become, they are ephemera, studied and treasured for the briefness with which they sparkle and flare upon the winds. It is with this sense of fleeting preciousness, that the timeless expanse of the Labyrinth greets the luminous mist of Akitith's forest. No words. None are needed. F'in cocks his head to dip and lean over into Selaine's line of sight. "I always liked doin' hides with company." Back in weyrlinghood. He's managed to neatly sidestep any such obligations after graduation. "'m doing some reading on the Weyr's history." He runs a finger around the neck of his leathers, shifting uncomfortably. He grins, sweat has carved tracks in the skin of his face, grimy neck.

Akitith is curled lazily near the shore of the lake, basking in Rukbat's harsh rays and indulging in whatever cool breeze might come from being near a large body of water. Her glowing hide is there for all to see. Her tail twitches, like a cat, claws kneading into the sand beneath her. The misty forest beckons all to enter. Rhakanth's entrance is welcomed easily. Familiar. The mist prevades the Labyrinth. « Won't you join me by the lake~? » The coolness of her mind calls forth, seductive and oh so feminine. Selaine, on the other hand, frowns as she senses the distracted thoughts of her green. Her gaze focuses on F'in before her. An eyebrow lifts. "Reading… on the Weyr's history? Is it… interesting? Any particular reason?" If she notices how uncomfortable he is, she certainly doesn't say anything to the fact.

Thus invited, Rhakanth hefts to his feet, stretches. A solid shivering of banded musculature dusted with Igen's Blessing which still unable to banish the metallic sheen of goldenbrown hide. He springs aloft and wheels above. « Akitith. » Akitith. Akitith. Her name echoes in mist that creeps into winding passageways. Spoken by unseen lips. Gravel crunches underfoot nearby. The golden cord stretches out, down, brushes the tops of trees as Rhakanth descends, lip curling at the other males in attendance, wings ruffled, flared the low rumble in his chest serving as a greeting for Akitith and a pronouncement to the others. Rhakanth is here. The bronzerider laughs, wrinkles his nose, "Yeah, 's a thing I started doing. When we fly a Fall an' don't take a score, I read somethin' about the place." The last Fall was over Igen Weyr not last seven. Traders. They're a superstitious lot. The discomfort is simply physical, sitting in grimy, sanded leathers in heat hotter than blood. "An' it's all right, I s'pose? Some writings on the ol' abandoned caverns. Used ta be a spa there, didya know?"

The mist thickens as it continues to push forth until the Labyrinth's floor is completely hidden. The treetops rustle from a nonexistent breeze; a welcome. Akitith croons her greeting for the bronze as he joins her, stretching and shifting so that the sun hits her hide just so. Enticing - a tease for all the males nearby. "Well… at least reading's good for you…" Right? Eyes are curious for the latter bit of information. "A spa over there?" This time it's Selaine's turn to shift in her seat. A hand lifts to fan herself; the shade's just not quite cutting it. "I'd probably read more if I didn't have reports to go over all the time… was easier when K'vvan was here." The last part is a soft mutter, lips curled into another frown but she's quick to shake it off.

F'in, juding Selaine is done with the bucket and ladle, gestures for them and nods his thanks as they're passed over. He drinks and smiles to himself at Rhakanth's posturing. The bronze makes a circuit of Akitith, that low rumble a croon her her, a growl as his regard shifts to the surrounding males who, it should be noted, are rising to their feet, wings lifted, lips curling away from jagged teeth as their own growls rumble. Rhakanth arches his neck and settles, disregarding his rivals, attention fully on Akitith now that notice has been served to the unworthy males. The sweep of Rhakanth's long, whip tail may just send a wave of sand and dust at one such unworthy. The bright cord descends into the forest, winding amidst the trunks as it bounds along. "Akitith in yer 'ead, there? How long 'til yer sweeps?" F'in seems to have an idea about something.

Meanwhile, Akitith is quite enjoying the attention. Because it's all for her. All the boys~ Yes, please. The wave of sand is the final straw and the other males back off, eyes whirling an angry red as wings settle back against their sides. Akitith relaxes her posture as Rhakanth settles near her, tail whipping back and forth. The mist thickens within the forest along the floor on the cord's path, encompassing. Selaine shakes her head, a cheek twitching as her eyes come back from tell-tale gaze of connecting with her lifemate. "Yea." She says a bit stiffly, though she relaxes a bit as the connection is cut off. "Um… another two candlemarks or so." Eyes dart to judge the position of the sun to make sure.

"I think you should go fer a swim." It's hot. She's miserable. It's miserable? She's hot? EITHER WAY, F'in speaks truth. "There's enough dust on ya, the gardners might try ta plant." Also true. He digs the ladle handle at her ribs before settling it on its hook again. Rhakanth, triumphant, merely presides, sphinxlike over Akitith's glorious repose. "There's time for it."

F'in's suggestion does get considered, the greenriders brows pinching together in thought. There's an 'oof' sound as the ladle touches her ribs and she glares at it. Cause glaring at inanimate objects is a thing. Selaine shifts her gaze over towards the lake, pursing her lips. "Mmm… might be a good idea…." Her voice drifts, still contemplating. "Ah! The Mirror Caverns!" Because at least she can still swim without the sun beating down on her mercilessly. Blue eyes shift back to the bronzerider, head tilted slightly to one side, "You gonna join me?"

"Ooooh," F'in's voice is low, sympathetic, when Selaine glares at the ladle, judging the merits of spending the balance of the morning risking those glares aimed at him for the glowing of a green hide. Taking a swim does have its appeal, though. And that bright suggestion of the Mirror Caverns has him smiling in return, a mirror himself, "Aye, let's get." The quiet grumbling and heavy breathing of one angry (and exhausted) kitchen worker drifts to them beyond the courtyard enclosure. "And, uh, quickly." He'll apologize later. With a quick scrape of leather on hewn stone and the grit of boots on pavers, F'in is away. The bucket is still swinging, half full, over the well's mouth, when the putupon cook reappears, huffing and puffing, red-faced. She makes a beeline for the well.

The more she thinks about, the more Selaine is inclined to believe that it really would help. If it really will is another question altogether, but at least she returns F'in's smile. She nods, "Great." The sound of the cook catches her attention only after F'in's quick departure. The greenrider stares wide-eyed and is quick on her feet as well. There's some shuffling as Selaine scoots awaaaaay from the well and with an apologetic smile, is also gone, the only sign of her presence is a cloud of sand. The cook, in the meanwhile, leans over, hands on her knees as she huffs and glares after the two riders but with no energy to yell. Otherwise there'd be hell to pay. It will come, if she can help it.