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Xanadu Weyr - The Lonely Beach
Though perhaps nothing to write home about, the Lonely Island's beach is peaceful enough, a long stretch of white sand just big enough for two golds to sprawl out comfortably without touching. Shells, agates, driftwood, and other watery detritus litters the beach in bits and spots, just enough to make things interesting. East-facing, the beach is ideal for watching the sun rise, the view utterly unimpeded by the dense forest that otherwise swallows the island. Natural stone jetties and pockets of sand create excellent spots for fishing and swimming, while others play home to tiny ecosystems in the form of tidepools.

It's time for some growing dragons to spread their wings, but not too far, you know? On a lovely summer day, the Lonely Island isn't so lonely with a group of assorted weyrlings descend and spread out (along with appropriate AWLM supervision somewhere not too far away). Inasyth's straps are coiled neatly in a pile well away from the water and the gold herself is currently occupied sticking her head under the water and popping up every so often with a log of drift wood or a particularly large conch shell. « WE HAVE TO ADD THIS TO THE COLLECTION!!! » The collection is apparently Rhodelia's very damp throne at the moment as she nibbles on a few berries picked from a nearby bush. "Think I can convince her to have a bonfire instead of trying to tote half of this back with us?" That question might be more to the air than anybody in particular, but she's open to suggestions.

“Can’t promise anything, but we can see if Kihatsuth becomes inspired enough to convince her?” Ru'ien offers, while shuffling by and organizing his own stuff. The very large green is currently doing her own search along the beach, partially inspired by Inasyth’s behaviour. Never mind that her movements are more of a prowl and she’s more set to observing with that devilish smirking air about her but it’s harmless — for now. With his straps arranged and placed somewhere he deems safe enough from potential chaotic shenanigans, he’ll briefly nudge his foot into the sand. His reward? Not food, but a myriad of shell shards. Several are discarded without thought, though he mulls over one particular piece as he rejoins Rhodelia (but not on the damp throne, thank you).

"Just tell them it'll make colors," F'yr's breath is still coming shallowly as his towel is rubbed across his face, the bronzerider just returning to the selected lounging spot from a vigorous swim. He might be improving, but he is still more than a little exhausting in his physical activity overdrive. And yet, what it does for the view might be worth it? "Though we'll have to swap the sodden stuff for the dry," he gestures to places where such small tangled masses exist along the edges of where the tide rises, "or it'll just smoke," and steam, but the point is, not burn in pretty colors. His eyebrows wrinkle as he looks over to Rhodelia and says, with a straight face, "Your dragon is very needy, you know." Then the grin cracks as he tosses his towel back down onto the blanket spread on the sand. One might worry because there's a surprising amount of quiet from one so often needy dragon, but Glorioth was dispatched to flying sentry sweeps over the island after slaughtering a few helpless bits of the island's fauna and may still be seen high above doing just that. Maybe that's what makes F'yr's joke to Rhody work. Maybe it's why he looks to Ru'ien and wiggles his brows just a little. It's all quite silly, really, but maybe that's the name of today's game for him.

"Right… unless anybody is smuggling some agenothree tanks in their flight gear don't think we'd be getting a good fire…" And thankfully Rhodelia's flamethrower is safely tucked away wherever it's supposed to be stored. After burning the barracks, that's a lesson learned well. "Or maybe we can just claim that it's an art work that works best in it's native environment?" Her eyebrows raise as that's a question for Ru'ien and his artistically inclined lifemate. F'yr's joke earns him a blueberry flying towards his ear. "My dragon is needy?" She adds a pointed glance up to wherever it was that Glorioth's latest patrol recently passed. "Am I the pot or are you the kettle there?"

Ru’ien catches that look just in time from F’yr, as he was about to open his mouth and spew any manner of lines. Instead his mouth closes and he’ll grin, while tipping a too obvious ‘gotcha’ waggle of his brows back. “Probably best not even to joke hinting at that, Rhody! You might bring our dear babysitter on our heads…” Play time would be over then and everyone off and out of this faraway sandbox! Chuckling to himself, he’ll pocket the shell he found — it’s probably the first or many bits of scraps he’s gathered. Who is the REAL magpie here? “Ooh, now that’s a difficult question!” he teases, adding a little more fuel to the “debate” game.

That blue eyes swing to the most likely source of hidden agenothree tanks is only the wisdom of experience speaking when Rhodelia makes that suggestion, not an insult to his smithly bro with questionable flexible judgment. Some riders have issues misleading their dragons. F'yr is not one of these. He can't. He was never a bad liar, but now mistruths and obfuscation roll right off a glib tongue to his dragon whenever need arises. That's probably why he appears to have no moral hesitations in suggesting, "Tell Inasyth that their family is here and they'd be sad to wake up somewhere else, even somewhere as wonderful as wherever she wants to put them. It worked on my little cousins." Dragons and children, there's really so much overlap there, but the shrug makes it only a suggestion. It doesn't stop that glib tongue from going on, with an affected affront (made doubly comical when the blueberry glances off his cheek, "Why, Rhodelia, I haven't the faintest idea what you might mean." Then he tosses it to Chaos' master himself, "Do you know what she's talking about, Ru'ien?"

"Ohhh, good one!" Rhodelia is definitely filing that excuse away for if not today, then the future. "And since there's not a clutch on the sands and I don't think either of my firelizards have clutched recently, she can't use the excuse of Search for bringing them from their families to the Weyr to find their future lifemates and TRUE family on the sands." Is there any doubt that Xanadu is really their family now? But inanimate object can remain familyless on the beach. As for Ru'ien's joking chide, she shrugs. "If he managed to miss a flamethrower tank before takeoff, would that really be on us or on him?" On both, clearly. "But I don't have one." FOR THE RECORD! She coughs and returns to their very important debate with a snort. "I think that might make you the pot then. They always seemed a little duller than kettles. I'm shiny!" Look at that pearly white smile.

“You’d be surprised how crafty they can pin blame on us! Especially as we’re already got enough black marks against us,” Ru’ien points out, with a lopsided smirk flashed to Rhody and F’yr both; it’s a touch grim, but not overly so. Truth be told, he’s got a few half marks against himself but only because not everyone can be perfect! “Haven’t got the faintest clue!” he chimes, a bit more brightly, to his bro and partner in this game so far. He’ll come to stand by F’yr (innocently, honest!), matching him in height at least. Aren’t they just the duo? Rhody’s quip is met with a laugh and he’ll be quick to wag a pointed finger at him. BURN! “HA, she’s got you there, Fear!”

The first part of this debate does raise the question, "Who do you think is more excited about getting put in our own weyrs? Us or them?" The 'them' part has F'yr's blue gaze going to search in whatever direction he thinks the distant-but-not-that-distant babysitter must be. His attention is earned back by Rhodelia's claim, met with dubiously raised brows. Ru'ien's finger just means it's time for one big hand to come clap over the hand it's attached to and — well, boys being boys, there's the necessity of a brief tussle then and there. "Traitor," is the accusation that explains the necessity, but given that they're all doing self-defense drills, the whole thing is over in a matter of moment, not seriously pursued by either participant, and not putting either into the sand when they break apart a few moments later. "You're just starting to try to get on her good side because one day soon we're not going to be weyrlings anymore. If we don't stick it out through senior weyrlinghood. Are you going to?" That's for both of them. "I am," in case it's the kind of thing he should volunteer an answer to first.

Rhodelia's eyes flash over towards her dragon that's currently doing her best impression of a submarine. "Ohh, that's easy. Since I really doubt they have a spot with ten empty weyrs all together, Inasyth is going to be heartbroken not to have all her siblings within wing-reach anymore. She's actually been enjoying this tent living." Like it's all a glorious adventure! The rough housing is watched with an amused smile from her safe enough distance away. But finally, dominance or a truce or whatever is established and then come more questions, and Rhody shrugs. "I'd like to go through senior weyrlinghood, if they'll have me. But since I don't really have a choice of anywhere but Quasar not sure if they'll let me?" It's a question she really could have asked Risali before now, but that would be planning for the future, a topic Rhody still avoids like a plague.

Of course it’s over quickly, because everyone in the weyrlingclass and their teachers know that Ru’ien is the weakest of them when it comes to self defence! Not from lack of strength or ability, but he literally just cannot grasp it well enough to last more than a few minutes. Rough housing and the like tends to go a wee bit better but eventually he’ll always lose. “Well, DUH! What’d you expect?” Ru’ien quips back, brushing himself off despite not being tossed to the sands and straightening his tunic, splaying his hands outwards in a ‘you should know better!’ manner. “Rhody! Do you think I’m trying to get on your good side?” he teases with a wink, where as Kihatsuth would beg to argue (hello, power?). “Same here. I’m planning to stick to it for the long run so… guess you’re all stuck with me until the very end end.”

"Better from you," F'yr makes his severe face. The one he pretends so hard mostly just for Ru'ien. He probably developed it for Glorioth but when it proved ineffective, it was better to use it for something. Why not jokes? He swings a light punch to Ru'ien's shoulder but then he's really done, okay? He doesn't pummel helpless greenriders or helpless anyone else if he can manage it, gentle giant that he is. At least Ru'ien is someone his own size to pick on, if not up to his dedicated training class (a.k.a. all those times Ila teaches F'yr to get hurt better on his fist or knee or— Ila's a creative man; it is known). "I'd think Risa would want you to have a working knowledge of all the wings, but maybe not?" Who can predict a force like Risali? F'yr doesn't pretend he can, "But that's why I'm doing it. Someone pointed out to me that I'm a bronzerider." Go figure. "And that knowing the wings would be a good thing, generally." He squints up at the sky and sighs, "Dragons." It's a grumble, a mutter, a something, though there's no hint he actually regrets this life, complicated or not.

"And it's not like I'd ever get another chance to be a delivery rider for a seven or sweeps or search and rescue…" The grass might always be a little greener and Rhodelia knows very well what paperwork is waiting for her in the weyrwomen's office. There's probably still a few stacks of it untouched since before the hatching. "Also, I only have good sides, Ru'ien." She gives a wink before she rises up from her driftwood pile and starts stripping to a swim suit. "But it's a little hot out here so I think I'm gonna take a swim." And with that, Rhody and all her sides are out.

That last punch is weathered with a playful grunt but there’s no retaliation from Ru’ien — at least not right this second! If something were to “mysteriously” end up in F’yr’s cot later well… he’s very good at playing innocent and ignorant (not really). “Who pointed out the obvious to you like that?” he teases to his bronze riding clutchmate, broad grin well in play. As Rhody gets up to go for a swim, he will wink at her and wiggle his fingers in a ‘go have fun’ wave. “I’m sure you do! Never said you didn’t!” he remarks. Now there are only two and Ru’ien will choose a less damp, far more bleached, bit of driftwood on which to perch.

"Well, honestly, it hadn't really sunk in before that." F'yr's look turns from playful to sheepish. "I was busy thinking about all the ways I could fuck up as a regular rider, not about how Glorioth might suddenly become interested in a glowing queen and give me much bigger things to fuck up instead." At least he's not having a panic attack about all of it now, so that's progress. He does cast his eyes skyward after they follow Rhodelia (and all her sides, of course) to the water. "Want to go see what's down that way?" He invites. "I think I heard our babysitter say something about caves on this island." And, of course, if the babysitter mentioned them, they're obviously safe for weyrlings to explore, right? It couldn't be there was a 'stay out of the' in front of the caves, right? OF COURSE, RIGHT. What kind of rule-breaker do you take F'yr for?

“Who said you’d immediately fuck it up? Come on, Fear! Have some faith in yourself!” Ru’ien flashes a crooked, but genuine, wide grin up at him, from where he’s currently lounging on said driftwood. “Or you worried on going full tyrant?” See, this is why it was good he got some advice from other sources when having his panic about it! Ru’ien is good for SOME emotional support but when it comes to something like leadership? Nah, he’s gonna leave that to others (and break poor Kihatsuth’s heart, how could he NOT WANT POWER!? Oh, right. SHE wants it and that way doesn’t share! Wonderful!). He was just in the middle of emptying his pockets of the bits of this and that he’d picked up off the beach when F’yr suggests some exploring and who could resist that? He’s on his feet in an instant, material treasures tucked away again as he smirks. “That right? You wanting to go check ‘em out then? See what’s in all those dark nooks and corners?” Uh oh. Ru’ien had begun to saunter on over, but it’s obvious he’s up to something, aside from wholeheartedly agreeing. “Or is this the other sort of ‘dark corners’?” Surely the reason he darts forwards is from enthusiasm for their adventure and NOT to put himself out of striking distance from F’yr — his chuckling laughter might suggest either!

"I heard they glow," F'yr replies to the greenrider even as he starts to turn to go search for the entrance to these fabled caves. Perhaps he's not rising to the bait about dark corners at all. Perhaps he's just going to be looking to see if any of them are dark enough to hide a body in. But no, F'yr would never deprive Kihatsuth of her favorite pawn partner. Still, after a few paces, the bronzerider picks up his pace in a way that suggest Ru had better hurry up if he doesn't want to be caught and tussled with again before they even find and vanish into the small opening in the cliffside with its ankle-high water that seems promising for those willing to risk their lives in the name of (possibly illegal) exploration.

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