Favorite Places

Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
This lake shares many features common to mountain lakes — a brilliant blue jewel nestled amongst the rocks. The waters are crystal clear, and the north shore slopes gently before abruptly falling away into the depths. This lake does have one significant differentiating feature, however. The south shore of the lake is a tumbled mass of rubble, rock and earth of an ancient rockslide smoothed only by the elements in the intervening years. This rubble, as well as the rather sheer east and west faces, makes for the north shore to be the only one easily accessible.
Springs arrival is noted by the disappearing lake ice. As it melts it breaks up into smaller icy bergs. These bob randomly throughout the choppy waters, slowly disappearing as the temperatures rise. They also frequently provide sport and entertainment for the bathing dragons. The emerging shoreline is inviting, though the water remains chilly for their human counterparts. As spring draws nearer to summer, the waters begin to feel quite invigorating with Rukbat's growing shine.

It's a fine afternoon at the Weyr, cool and clear and crisp with the onset of autumn. Zurii is bundled up appropriately and trundles out to the lake, a bag of art supplies bouncing against her hip as she skip-walks her way down to the beautiful expanse of blue that is the lake. Her approach slows as she tries to spot any familiar shapes out there, dragon or person or firelizard alike. No such luck. With a soft, thoughtful hmf, she continues, picking her way along carefully.

Autumn is definitely prime season to visit any region that is as heavily forested as Fort continues to be! It’s alive with color for now, and the weather just cool enough to still be enjoyable. It’s not too different than Xanadu, really, but it wasn’t the seasons that drew K’vir back to his home of birth. Sometimes, he just has to bite the proverbial bullet and visit family — it’s always a tenebrous affair, really. His mood is distanced, thoughtful, as he trudges along the once familiar lake shore. Zekath is nowhere to be found, at least not by ground level. So withdrawn in his own head, he is not aware of his approach on Zurii — or the risk that he is close to running into her.

The young, would-be artist is also in her own head, squinting off at the water and the rocks and the dragons and the- "Oh! Hey!" The collision is narrowly avoided, but only because Zurii catches sight of the man at the very last second. She stops short, arms pinwheeling just a bit to keep her balance; youthful reflexes are great, but her balance? Questionable. Wide-eyed, she looks at him and something of his expression prompts a very concerned: "Hey, are you okay? Did firelizards steal your thoughts?"

K’vir immediately startles, snapped abruptly back to the present world by the young girl’s exclamation. By habit, he will reach out to steady her — or make the attempt, anyways. What may result is an awkward miss or a too-delayed touch of his hand against her shoulder or arm. Regardless, he’s quick to retract his hand and, clearing his throat, adjusts his posture. “Yeah,” he surmises with a vague smirk. “Something like that. I’m sorry, though! Are you alright?”

Contact is made! Shock! Horror! But it's not so bad; her shoulder is a bony knot of a thing, suggesting that she's not the overly athletic sort. Zurii doesn't recoil, either, instead fixing him with an intense look of scrutiny. "I'm fine," she reassures with a quick, easy smile. "I mean, nothing bruised or broken, right?" She squints at him. "You aren't from around here, are you?" Curious, rather than accusatory. She tilts her head a bit, as if to look at him from all possible angles and find some way to place him.

Shock and dismay (okay, not quite)! K’vir’s hand won’t linger long on that shoulder, not out of insult to the bony-shaped girl but merely because it’s not proper. He seems to take her assurance to heart, but his eyes cast a studious gaze of their own. Who is this girl? Her question brings a refocusing blink and a slight half-chuckled breath. “Used to be, a long time ago! Was born here, in the Weyr but haven’t been living in these walls since I was Searched for Igen as a boy.” While she is trying to place him, he’ll extend his hand again, in the correct gesture this time. “I’m K’vir, Xanadu Wingsecond and rider of bronze Zekath.”

The very idea of a touch to a shoulder being potentially improper doesn't seem to cross Zurii's mind. She holds his gaze with a boldness borne entirely of both youth and a frustrating amount of confidence. "Oh! That makes sense. From here to Igen to there," she lifts a hand as if to sketch the path on some imaginary map of Pern with a dubious sense of geography. When the line is done, his hand is offered and she takes it with a firm grip and a grin. "Well met, Wingsecond K'vir! I'm Zurii. Of Fort Weyr and only Fort Weyr. This is the only place I've ever been." She pauses. "Oh. And the Hold for Gathers." There's scarcely room for another breath before she's firing the question cannon. "What place do you like best?"

“Well met, Zurii,” K’vir answers honestly, openly amused for her tracing hand of his supposed life path. It may only be then that he catches what stains may be upon her, if any — at the very least, the supplies she carries. “An artist?” he questions, curious and gentle, overall harmless. There’s a nod to her heritage, as it were, though he cannot seem to place her to anyone he may have known. The Weyr is a BIG place and he was a child last he was here for a length of time. “Oh! Um…” he falters a little, uncertain as he casts a glance about the lakeshore. “Do you mean here? Or, well — anywhere?” There’s a small chuckle. “Because it’ll change my answer considerably.”

"Oh! Sometimes, yeah," Zurii holds up her hand, wiggling stained digits for his perusal. "I'm not great at it, but I'm pretty good," and proud of that state of constant improvement, too! Impossibly, she brightens a little more. "Do you want to see my sketchbook?" Not that she's waiting for an answer; she's already digging in her bag for some battered tome or another. And, in truth, unless K'vir's spent any time with cooks or hunters, he might not have encountered her parents; they're just regular ol', nondescript weyrfolk. "Oh! Uh. That's a good question," she looks up from her rummaging. "Why not both? Here and everywhere?"

K’vir’s mouth does open to answer her but, OH LOOK! She’s already rummaging and he’s not about to dissuade her from sharing. Just ignore the slight shuffle of his feet as his weight shifts from one hip to the other. Is he mildly uncomfortable? Maybe but it’s not Zurii’s fault! “Well…” DISTRACTION! He’ll latch on to that, while gazing skywards in thought. “I like the spire lookout here. You can see the forests for miles but not actually be IN them. There’s some ruins around here too.” There’s likely far more, but those one’s strike out first. “Igen had some unique gardens, despite being a desert. Xanadu has cliffside views backed into their forests. Wonderful sights.”

It's that shifting of his weight and a vague sense of discomfort that gives Zurii pause. She frowns, her brow knitting a bit, even as she hugs her book to her chest. "Do you need to- um. I mean, I totally understand if you have important things to do!" Wingsecond is a pretty big knot, after all. "I can show you these later if you do. It's not a big deal or anything." She looks up at the sky as well, as if to see if she can spot whatever he's looking for. "The spire is really great," she agrees, but it's the other stuff that has her 'oohing'. "Desert gardens! I've heard they're amazing. And Xanadu's cliffs, too, but there's something poetic about gardens in the desert."

“What?” K’vir’s visibly puzzled by her query, until some of the pieces fit into place. He lifts a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, smirking. “Oh! No, it’s fine. I’m just not good standing idle, even now at my age. It’s fine! If I had to go, I’d… well. Go?” To put it so starkly black and white! Zekath’s rubbed off on him all these Turns. “If you want to share, go ahead. I’ve just always assumed it was sort of a… like you never bug anyone to see their works?” Maybe he’s been running into the wrong Crafters! “Oh, so you’ve been!” he brightens a bit. “What about the stone bridge?” Which might not be so easily accessible to all and K’vir forgets that he had some leeway as a child being the son of a Weyrleader. “Yeah, I bet,” he muses with a soft laugh. “It was nice to have some greenery there. Otherwise it’s a lot of hard rock and sand — which is kind of weirdly pretty in its own way?”

"Oh! Well, come on, then! I can show you on the way to the lake," because that's where they're going now, if she has any say in the matter. Zurii hands over the book, which is every kind of worn out and dog-eared that any well-loved and much-abused sketchbook could be. Her art is fairly typical for a teenager, too; lots of animals, some people, a few scattered landscapes. Crude renderings for the most part, but with a few gems and the shine of promise. "I guess some people get weird about showing their art off, but that just sounds funny to me." She shrugs it off and starts along, hands swinging a bit with her naturally bouncy stride. "The stone bridge? Oh! No, I've never been to that! Where is it? Since- well, that's here, so I can actually go to it. Gosh, but I'd love to see Igen, too, someday." Igen's desert gardens and rock and sand will just have to wait a while longer.

K’vir will tag along willingly enough, reaching out to take the book as it’s handed to him. He’s very careful with it, despite it being so well-loved and much-abused (or maybe it’s BECAUSE of that!). When a particular sketch or drawing stand out, he’ll linger upon it or make some neutral comment of praise and support. “It does, doesn’t it? But everyone’s different and I just try to be respectful if I can,” he admits, eventually closing the sketchbook and returning it to her. “You thinking on pursuing it?” he asks curiously, before straightening and turning just enough to point. “Back that way, by the administration ledges. You can access it from inside the Weyr too, up a set of stairs by the caverns and kitchens. It’s…” OH WAIT. “Uh. You might have to explain WHY… I forgot it was primarily where riders or staff go. Since it links a lot of the Wing lounges.” Oops? They’re not quite to the waters when there’s a rush of air and a passing shadow as Zekath comes to land nearby. The bronze LOOKS like he’d suit Igen’s harsh deserts, all sharp angles and armored-etched hide. He holds himself with a soldier’s stance, wings half mantled even as he settles on the shore. K’vir audibly sighs, “Sorry, Zurii. Looks like my time is up here. Well met again and clear skies!” K’vir tips his head in a hurried farewell, grinning faintly. “Good luck!” And then he’s setting off at a decent clip to get to Zekath’s side and properly mounted up.

She'll take it back and stow it when he's done, positively beaming with pride when he makes any kind of praise or supportive remark. Zurii shrugs a little after and says, "I'd like to, but I'm usually busy with other stuff. But, one day, I'll be famous." As he directs where the bridge is, she squints in that direction and nods a few times, filing the details away for the time being. "I'll figure something out," is entirely too confident. Ominously so. And while there might be more, the arrival of that sharp and shining bronze silences her abruptly and she stares, agog, at the dragon. She lifts a hand and waves wildly as the rider makes to depart. For all the disappointment of his abrupt departure, there's a bright smile all the same. "Oh! Bye! Clear skies! Don't be a stranger, okay?" As for her, it's off to the lake, to putter around until she's called off for something else.

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