Of Runners and Manicures

Xanadu Weyr - Beach


The unerring range of subdued white rises and falls in a multitude of sandy dunes, creating an endless amount of tiny valleys constantly demolished and rebuilt by the frequent arrival or departure of a dragon. Smoothing out as it slopes gently to the edge of the deep blue water, the sand darkens and a shell here and there stands out for children to collect. The beach itself is set along a low cliff - the height lessoning as one heads eastwards, blocking a portion of the beach from direct access.

The wide wide stretch of water opens up to the east, the far distant shore way beyond the horizon and the beach curves ever so slowly round to east and west, distant arms of land embracing the wind-ruffled Caspian Lake. East leads up to the mouth of the Rubicon River, where the protecting cliff is merely an arms length higher then the sand, and beyond that, a winding road leading out of Xanadu's territory. Westwards, the beach narrows as the cliff swings out, leaving a path wide enough for dragons in single file before cutting in to the sheltered cove designated the Weyrling Beach. However, cut in the cliff face to the north are a variety of rough, wide staircases, providing access to the clearing and to the meadow.

It's late morning and despite it being the end of winter the weather is hazy and hot and it finds the Weyrleaders Secretary out for a walk. Vivian the weyrbitch is quite happily just strolling along the sands, a smile on her face as she looks out across the ocean.

Late morning might be early for some of the Weyr's residents, but one of the traders currently stalled is not one of them. Intelligently, Rhas has bathed himself /before/ he goes to work with his runners — but he's just peeling off from a pair of riders who head back towards the Weyr, so perhaps there was a different meeting. Whatever it was, he doesn't look smug for too long; quickly, the lad's face shifts to contemplative, as those long legs swing in easy strides down the beach, now. It's hard not to notice another person out enjoying the pretty weather, though, and Rhas is quick to wave and smile at Vivian cheerily. "Good morning!"

Vivian's reverie is broken when she hears the greeting breaking the silence and it's with a frown that the hazel eyes are brought up to find the source and they keep going up, he's a tall one this one. "Good morning." She greets him back, though it's probably with less warmth than his.

If Rhasmir realizes that he's gone and ruined Vivian's peace, he doesn't show it, offering a friendly smile as he approaches closer. "Rhasmir." That would probably be his name, furnished with a lopsided grin and a half-turn so he can peer out across the water. "Beautiful day, yeah?" The lad stuffs his hands into pockets in his trousers, keenly watching ships far out. "How finds yours?"

Vivian bobs her head a little by way of reply her gaze fixing on him for a few long moments with an intense gaze. "It is a nice day." She replies and when it looks like he's not going to go away she continues to walk along slowly her gaze flickering back out again. "It was a nice day, what brings you here?" She asks with a light sigh sounding in her voice.

Rhasmir lifts an eyebrow as she continues walking — and matches her pace, albeit a few strides behind and a few meters away. "Beach is good for thinking." He imparts cheerfully, apparently willing to put said thinking on hold? Or maybe he can multitask better than it /looks/ like he could, with that goofy grin. "You?"

"I like the solitude it gives you with nothing but you, the sand and the ocean lapping away to let you think or contemplate in silence." Is the answer that Vivian gives him, though she still doesn't appear to have discouraged him yet, must be stupid or brave. "What do you do around here?" She eventually asks him.

Rhasmir's peering off at the water again, but he glances back over at Vivian with a slow grin after a moment. "Aye." Quietly, that, but not uncheerfully. "It doesn't beat the open plains, I'm afraid. They can seem like an ocean, too, though." The lad says pleasantly, slanting her another grin. "Trader. Found a reason to put down roots though, if I can manage it. Sort of." A vague hand flaps through the air, before he's lifting a curious eyebrow. "You? I don't think we've met before."

Vivian continues strolling along, her bare feet kicking absently at the sand with each step she takes. "I've never really seen the plains, not since I was much younger anyway." She comments quietly as they talk. "What do you trade in?" She asks, eternally nosy. "And what keeps you here now? What's her name?" Insight or just the only reason she can see some trying to settle down. "I'm Vivian, the Weyrleaders Secretary, Mom is the Weyrwoman." She tells him, which should clear up most things.

Rhasmir's smile is wistful, eyes slightly distant in memory. "You should go sometime. Short've the middle of the ocean — it has its' pleasures, I'll admit — it's the quietest place you can be. Sit down on a rock and you might never see another person." He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. "Runners, myself, mostly. Got a few guitars, that's the family's main business. Instruments." There's a shrug, before he's grinning, impishly now. "Curiosity is her name, you could say." Grin flashes briefly towards a smirk. "Considering a new business venture, actually." And now that eyebrow is lifting again, though the smile doesn't leave. "Well met, Vivian!"

Vivian's head bobs a little as she listens, the only sign that she's actually paying any kind of attention to what he's saying. "Smelly beasts and noise makers." She rolls her eyes at the options. "I hope your new venture is of a more agreeable nature?" She asks, turning to look at him properly for a few moments, consideration showing in her eyes.

Rhasmir's turned back out towards the water, posture relaxed and maybe even a little bit lazy; hey, it's early yet! At her lamentation, he laughs, crooking a little smirk. "Seems to be a common opinion 'round here." The lad chuckles faintly. "They're nice once you get to know 'em." His own opinion is stout and voiced with a nod, then another half-smirk. "Well, no." Here, the trader grins at the young woman instead of the water. "Not really."

Vivian looks all prim from the way she's dressed to the immaculate way her hair is done. Her hands if looked at aren't calloused and look tender and smooth, certainly not used to any kind of labour or outside work. "There's not so much use for them here in the jungle. Although along this shoreline, perhaps and further inland." She shrugs her shoulders, a delicate motion where she's concerned, her sandals banging lightly against her leg from where they dangle from her left hand. "I'll trust you to keep your new project away from me if it's as distasteful as your current exploits."

Rhasmir is nodding sorrowfully, snorting and wrinkling his nose. "Shardin' right there's not." He laments with a grumble. But then he's wearing a sly look, and where he was frowning, now a corner of his lips creeps right back towards that smirk. "Yet." Oh, he's sure of himself — or maybe he'd just like her to think that he is. Probably the former; brave is he, but not entirely brilliant. "Of course." Supplied with aplomb to the last; even complete with an overdone bow. The lad pauses briefly, glancing over at the young woman with faintly narrowed eyes. "What do /you/ like to do when you're not working, then?" She's a girl, after all. They're curious creatures — so few seem to have proper hobbies like riding runners!

Vivian continues to walk along and makes no more comment about runners, filthy creatures that they are, though saying that she's probably never been near one. "I relax and pamper myself." She tells him, "What else is there to do?" It seems perfectly normal in her mind. "Baths, sunbathing, long walks, getting your hair and nails done." She continues on.

Rhasmir nods sagely, absently kicking an errant spiderclaw from his path with an amused glance. "Hmmmm." Said meditively, as he follows, eyebrows creasing faintly. "Can't say anybody's ever touched my nails." That being said, he's very well-groomed, for a boy, at least. His hair even looks recently brushed! "I suppose." Dubious, it would seem, Rhas shrugs — the affairs of women aren't something he understands, oh no! "But…" A mischievous grin surfaces. "If you ever want something a little more exciting, my cousin's runner takes a saddle and is nice and gentle. Mine, not so much, but…" He laughs. "She's very clean. And smells /nice/."

Vivian holds out her right hand to him, to show the perfectly manicured and painted nails. "It's fun, you should try it sometime." She tells him with an interesting look passing over her face, mostly amusement judging by the way her lips curl up at the corners and the sparkle in her eyes. "I don't think so." She replies about the offer of a runner ride, the frosty way her eyes change and her face twists into probably means he'll need to be an awful lot more convincing than saying she smells nice. "What about you, is it all trading?"

Rhasmir considers the nails curiously, then his own — no amount of bathing will remove the faint hint of dirt beneath them. He extends a hand of his own, grinning ruefully. "They're awful pretty, but I'm a Wherry if I could pull that off." It's said with a completely straight face, no less! He catches the amusement, next, and pulls on another impish smirk, feigning surprise. "Well! You don't strike me as the type that's afraid of a little excitement. So why not?" Half-teasing, the trader chuckles. "Sort of, I guess. Go off on the runner for a few days sometimes. It's quiet out in the jungle, at least — compared. Awful hard to walk through the jungle, though. Runnerback's best for it." He doesn't even crack a grin, this time, but his eyes dance and the corners crinkle a touch; it's hard not to!

"I'm sure some nice red colouring would enhance your style ten fold." Vivian tells him with a teasing wink. "Though the only reason it's so quiet out in the jungle is because the bugs keep everything out of the jungle, they eat people alive out there, I remember my first camping trip, I remember how many bites I came home with." She explains in one of those tones of voice that should probably be reserved for children or husbands.

Rhasmir grins languidly, managing not to trip as he strolls along and buffs his nails on the still-pressed-and-neat vest, peering at them thoughtfully. "You know, you're right." He drawls. "I could even get it on my toes!" The lad's eyes even widen as if in realization; but he can't keep it up for long, and settles for a snicker after a moment. Her tone is noted with a lazy, but somehow still impish grin, and merry wink. "All you've gotta do is rub a little — well, I don't know its' name — on you and sleep off'a the ground." The trader chuckles. "I carry a hammock with me. Doesn't stop the ones that fly, but." A one-shouldered shrug.

Vivian just eyes him frostily. "You don't know what you're rubbing into your skin, it could be refined feline dung?" She states oh so matter of factly. "Just got to hope there are no randy males out there if you get the wrong batch." She snorts and it's with a shake of her head that she looks back out at the ocean again. "Not an experience near the top of my list I'm afraid."

Rhasmir rolls his eyes skyward, laughing softly. "Oh — let me rephrase myself. I don't know what plant it is. Leaf. Never done anything but keep off the bugs, but I'm not about to try and eat it…" From the look of wariness that follows that statement, that could be something he's done before. "You'd be shardin' surprised at the number of felines that /are/ out there though. And every one of 'em wants a bite of runner." Snort. "Oh well." Here he shrugs, then chuckles ruefully. "Aw, well — maybe one day you'll turn it around in your mind." A pause, and a glance back at the Weyr. "You want to know something /really/ smelly? A baby dragon. Have you /smelled/ their poo? Shells!"

"You're not being very encouraging with the release of this new information you know." Replies Vivian with a shake of her head. "Felines like to eat runnerbeast, let me add that to the list of reason for not getting on one." She adds with a mock sigh as he mentions baby dragons. "I was born in a weyr and I live in a weyr, it's kinda hard to miss it, when the wind blows in the wrong direction." She glances upwards and back to the weyr. "Anyways, it's been nice taking to you I suppose." She tells him in her more usual snippy tones. "I have meetings to attend and I need to get going early seeing as my thinking time was interrupted."

Rhasmir's smile is bland and airy, as he waves a hand. "Well, you get used to it." He apparently thinks that's a reasonable tone, too. "And if you're good with a beltknife, there's no problem." There's a lazy shrug, and a chuckle after a moment, accompanied by a slow nod. "Well — you have a point, there. Still, they smell nice when they get older, at least." Amusement, if rueful, at the last, as the trader lifts a hand; if he notices the snippiness, he sure doesn't show it! Pleasantly, "You're excellent company." Okay, maybe it's a touch mischievous. But he can't help it! "Well, I wish you the best of luck with those meetings. Enjoy…well.." Pause, squint. "Enjoy whatever it is you do when you're done." And with a cheerful wave, the lad splits off towards the water, whistling merrily to himself.

Vivian doesn't bother replying immediately she just rolls her eyes and turns on her heel to start a longer stride back towards the weyr proper. "Yeah right, I'll remember that." She mutters back over her shoulder as she heads off. It's a really nice view to watch given her figure, it's just dealing with her that can be so irritating.

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