Two Siblings in the Garden

Xanadu Weyr - Garden
An arch woven from the tendrils of a willow tree stretches overhead lightly creeping with ivy as one steps in from the meadow into this sanctuary of green. Cool gray flagstone carefully spaced enables a soft velvety moss to thrive within the cracks, and creates a single wide pathway that fluidly breaks off into two paths of stone once free of the natural arbor. It is a wonder this place, and meticulously tended from the way it seems not a single leaf is out of place.
On either side of the main path expansive grassy patches are trimmed short and edged behind with natural tan colored stone selectively chosen to stack just right. Beyond these are a line of fine puffed shrubberies in vibrant green intermingled with flowering bushes of brilliant pinks varying in hue from the very light to the very dark, which causes the occasional snowy white blossoms of other scattered here and there without worry to simply pop out of the scenery.
Directly in the center of the garden is another wall of intricately stacked stone, this of muted grays, creating what from the air would prove to be a perfect circle. It's been set high for safety, but not so much as one would not be able to lean over it to admire what lies beyond, either standing or sitting at the smattering of benches whose backs are set every four feet along it. Flush to the ground inside it's protective stone outcropping, is an enormous twenty foot wide fish pond. Within one can glean the metallic glint of playful goldfish, the unhurried cruise of fat koi, and even a frog or three among pale yellow and white flowering water lilies and their thick green pads.
The trees surrounding the entire garden were planted to give the impression that they had always been here, not only lending to a rustic look, but also alluding to the beauty that can be found among the wilds if only one might just look for it. Species vary from the ordinary Birch and Pine, but the flaming red capsules of the Indian Shot to the robust orange spokes of the Firewheel tree suggest the spice of the exotic.

It's noon in Xanadu Weyr, and spring is in full swing in the gardens. The trees are fully leafed, the bushes are properly bushy, and the flowers are a wondrous spread of color and hue. In the center of the gardens, leaning upon the wall that rings the fish pond in the center, stands Kyszarin, his expression pensive as he studies the flashing bodies darting to and fro in the water. He doesn't look particularly harried; whatever is on his mind doesn't appear to be Healer-related then - but something is very much on his mind.

Yet. That should read that Kyszarin isn't harried yet because THIS is Xanadu Weyr, and there is always an inevitable harrier waiting to be unearthed. Today, it's Leirith (AND LET'S BE HONEST, most days it's PROBABLY Leirith), who is much too large to fit into the gardens, but does not allow FACTS and PHYSICS to stop her from trying. She's shoving her snout into one of the entrances, bass and drums flooding the minds of fish and yet unharried brother-kin to her minion-folk (and therefore, ALSO a minion) with an alarmingly bombastic amount of enthusiasm. « IF I THINK HARD ENOUGH, I CAN MAKE MYSELF SMALL ENOUGH TO FIT. » "That's not how that works, Leirith." And there's Risali, the rider HERSELF, the one destined to endure Leirith's special brand of special unto forever, only the Weyrwoman was smart. The Weyrwoman brought booze with her, and she's walking slow across the gardens with rum in tow, the top opened in clear indication that she's already been partaking of it as she picks her way around the stone outcropping of the fish pond with careful steps and arms held out to either side for balance and, upon arrival, steps down, bumps into Kyszarin with her shoulder, leans against the wall opposite him, and holds out the rum as her own eyes fall to the fish in the pool. « YOU TOLD ME THAT I COULD BE ANYTHING I WANTED TO BE IF I TRIED HARD ENOUGH. I AM TRYING. » "Are we making a wish? Can you wish for Leirith to be less…" a beat, as she makes a vague gesture towards her whole dragon. « YOU JUST GESTURED AT ALL OF ME. » Don't mind Risali, biting back a smile (and probably a laugh) at her queen's expense.

Bombastic? Dearest Risali, nothing will ever make Leirith less bombastic. The arrival of the queen has Kyszarin's head shooting up, fingers gripping at the top of the wall as reflexes send him into high alert. Wait, what? Who's bleeding? Who's dying? Then he realizes the noise isn't in his ears, and he grunts, scrubbing at the skin behind his ear. "You know, when the mind healers go on about being able to do anything you put your mind to, they generally mean in a metaphysical sense," he mutters to both rider and dragon. "Anyway, if you were any smaller, your rider would look bigger, and it would set the whole world on its ears." His grin is feral as he glances sidelong at his sister, reaching out to take the rum and swallow a healthy mouthful. "No, no wishes. Just settling in, still."

Leirith enjoys that answer entirely too much. Her laughter booms, a crescendo of sound that's only spared making the world at large go deaf for being metaphysical instead of physical. « SHE IS FIERCE AND YET SOMEHOW DISAPPOINTING. I FEEL SHE WOULD STILL BE THAT, WERE I LESS ALL OF ME. » Risali, on the other other hand? Those grey eyes are narrowing, watching as her 'little' brother takes those proffered booze, watching as he partakes of them after having the absolute audacity to insult her size, and then smacking an elbow into his side (gently) before reaching up to try and rip her booze back and away from him. "My mistake," comes dry, "I thought you were mature enough to drink, but clearly I was wrong." Whether Risali is successful or left on her tiptoes, looking only more furious and reaching for a bottle she will only be able to reach if she scales her brother (and DON'T TEST HER, KYSZARIN, BECAUSE SHE WILL), she does eventually turn her focus onto Kyszarin's face, her brows knitting together as grey eyes jump between blue-grey. "You looked awfully serious for somebody just settling in. Did something happen in the infirmary?" DOES SHE NEED TO PUT ON HER BOSS HAT AND KICK AN ASS OR FIVE? Not that she can bully the head healers around much, but she's important enough to have at least some sway when it comes to the craft attachments in her own weyr.

"Only disappointing next to you, Lady Leirith," Kyszarin replies, holding the bottle above Risali's head JUST BECAUSE HE CAN before lowering his arm and letting her lay claim once more to her rum. "And I'll have you know I'm plenty mature, but all of the turns and maturity on Pern won't stop me from making jokes at your expense if I'm given a wide-open door." Oh, he's one of those. "And you are small. That doesn't make you any less frightening. Moreso, in fact, as you can fit under my bed." And you can believe he'll start rolling glows under there thanks to that mental image. "No, nothing has happened. The healers have been mostly welcoming - although, not unexpectedly, there's some mutters of nepotism. I've lived all my life with them," he reminds her. "Nothing I can't handle." He smiles slightly, looking back at the fish. "No, I'm just struggling against the inevitable feelings of guilt and wondering when the first heartbroken letter will arrive from Ista." Wondering? Dreading, more like.

Risali's eyes narrow even more as she snatches her rum back, and she only spares him whatever scathing words are clinging to the tip of her tongue because she's taking another drink of that rum. When she's done, she's rolling her eyes and breathing out, "I don't want to be anywhere near your bed, so you're safe." BROTHER BEDS. They come with all kinds of imagined filth that only sisters can be imaginative enough to conjure. That being said, Risali probably has (and will) come and crash on his bed to talk at random intervals, so TAKE HER DECLARATIONS AS YOU WILL. It's the mention of nepotism that has her lips pulling wry at one corner and then dropping on a huff of not-quite-laughter. It's too derisive, too understanding to harbor anything close to humor. "Idiots." Because they are, and it is her sisterly duty to be on Kyszarin's side (unless he does something truly awful, in which case it's her job to put him in a headlock and put to use all that 'frightening' she is so oft accused of). Now Risali is titling her head back to watch his gaze go back to the fish and, with a sigh, pressing the rum back towards him. "Your mother, or a romantic interest?" Because listen, it could be either and she's immune, but she's not blind to the fact that her brother is goodlooking and probably a catch (IF YOU'RE INTO THAT SORT OF THING).

Risali scrunches her nose and gently pushes at Kyszarin's side. "I don't want to know." About his entanglements, she means. But then Risali is listening, intent on her brother's face as he speaks about his mother a woman she's never met but in words and through the lens of Kyszarin's own experiences with her. There's a stretch of silence as the threat of blame comes down on her head and then Risali… laughs. One roll of her shoulders communicates a thought dismissed, and Risali is catching at that rum again. "Kyssie, I'm the Senior Weyrwoman of Xanadu Weyr. She can throw whatever blame at my feet that she wants. She's going to be waiting for a long time." Because there is a very long list of people waiting to cast aspersions and accusations at Risali's feet. Blame is familiar to her at this point, along with doubt and disgust and an amalgamation of emotions that come when one finds themselves in a position of power. She takes another swig of her drink, bumps her shoulder into her brother again, and then exhales a, "Only the same mystery I ponder every day: how to make Leirith disappear." « IT IS IMPOSSIBLE, MINION. I HAVE TRIED TO MAKE MYSELF DISAPPEAR, AND I SOMEHOW ALWAYS FIND ME AGAIN. AHAHAHAHA. » Humor crinkles Risali's lips and her eyes as she turns her attention back up onto Kyn, and then she's asking, "What about you? And life-saving measures in the wings? Daring damsels in need of saving? Emergency rooms to hide from?"

Blue-grey eyes are ruefully amused as Kyszarin leans against the wall and stares at the fish. "All fine and good for you, but I'm the one who will have to deal with the histrionics she loves to indulge in when she feels she's been slighted. Oh well," he sighs, "it's not like I'm not expecting it. Worth it, though, to be out of Ista, out from under her thumb, and in a position to get to know the other side of my family without having to sneak out of the Weyr to do so." If he had a tail, it would probably twitch with delight. "Come now, it wouldn't matter if you can see her or not. What you should be pondering is how to silence her." An equally fruitless line of inquiry; even more impossible than the aforementioned invisibility. "Me? Nothing of note. I was at Igen a few nights ago, running an errand for the Weyrhealer. Ended up stitching up a pretty little thing." Again, that faint smirk. "She was most… grateful." Not entirely certain that was gratitude - but hey, whatever swing he wants to put on it, right?

There's a quiet, sympathetic smile that comes with that revelation, one tiny hand branching the space between them so that she can gently squeeze his shoulder before letting go. "We're glad you're here." And no less sorry that he will have to deal with the repercussions of daring to explore his independence. But then Risali is rolling her eyes back towards her gold and saying, "Impossible. Even when she's being quiet she's still talking." And there's booming laughter to confirm, as if Leirith simply has no shame about the fact that she is, at every opportunity, as obnoxious as she can possibly be. But Risali is moving again, shaking her head, pushing away from the wall as she breathes out, "I don't want to know!" in a singsong voice, right before taking another swig of that rum. She's stepping back up onto that outcropping and giving her brother a little salute, the actual reason becoming clear when Leirith's snoot disappears and she's broadcasting, « MINION, THEY ARE COMING THIS WAY. IF YOU DO NOT WANT THE DIGNITARIES TO FIND YOU, YOU SHOULD RUN. » Well, the dignitaries clearly know where she is now, but she lingers long enough to extend her arm out, making a loop for Kyszarin to hook his through if he should so choose. "Walk back to the Weyr proper with me? We're hiding." And making R'hyn do all the leg work today, apparently.

"Don't worry, if they find us, just duck behind me. Pretty sure I'm tall enough to hide you. Probably two of you," Kyszarin remarks, grinning, as he joins her in hiding.

"I hate you," Risali breathes around a smile, dragging him off to somewhere else new entirely.

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