Deliveries and Angst at Ista

Xanadu Weyr - Clearing


A wide clearing stretches from east to west, the ground packed hard although grass grows across most of it. Trees are strictly forbidden in this space, their danger to the constant draconic traffic reason enough to banish them to the forest that creates a this and sharp border to the north. Where the ground is less trampled, tiny flowers poke their delicate heads out from their shaded hiding places with upturned petals to wave to whoever may be looking.

The cliff looms imposingly on three sides, stretching upwards all the way up the side of the mountain where, high above, Xanadu's Star Stones and the ever present watchdragon sit on a lonely peak. Directly south is a massive tunnel, fully wide enough for even the largest dragon to fly down. Southeast are wide steps leading up to the Caverns and eastwards is the large entrance to the Infirmary. Somewhat north of the Infirmary is a human sized archway that has a frequent quantity of traffic — it leads to the Tavern. Southwest lies the low ledges currently belonging to Xanadu's queens while north and west a broad path cut by the side of the cliff leads to the Feeding Grounds and due north is the spacious trail that leads to the rest of the Weyr.

It's morning. Not just morning, but that half-light time before most even consider it to be dawn. A yawning, arm-stretching, groaning and mumbling R'owan is standing beside the bulky form of his dragon who doesn't seem anywhere near as tired as his rider. Nyunath simply crouches in the clearing, decked out in his riding straps and looking quite prepared to make himself useful for the day. R'owan on the other hand, is lagging a bit. "Couldn't you have at least let me get a cup of klah?" The young bronzer asks, leaning against his dragon as if about to fall asleep on his feet, and then covering up another yawn. The bronze just snorts by way of answer. "Fine fine. But I'm getting klah at the first stop. Otherwise you'll be flying deliveries solo because I'll be asleep." He climbs a few rungs up onto the bronze's riding straps and begins fastening a mail bag onto the side.

Cenlia is just heading out of the caverns, a bag slung over one shoulder. A tiny gold firelizard hatchling peeks out from under the girl's runnertail, chirping quietly in the pre-dawn light. The gardener doesn't look particularly tired, though her footsteps slow when she spots the rider and dragon, the girl raising a hand and calling a, "Hey," in greeting as she approaches.

Cinching the bag tightly with hide cording, R'owan hops back down and reaches for a second. Nyunath disrupts this, however, by warbling a greeting towards Cenlia. The bronze's head sweeps in her direction and his eyes whirl. There is a slight twitch of his nostrols, and a shifting of his wings before he settles down again, tail sweeping a bit of dust across the clearing. "Yes, that's her." R'owan replies outloud, standing up to raise a hand in reply. "Hey Cen. Just getting the last of these bags loaded up." He hefts up another one and clambers up to tie it on the other side of the bronze's riding straps. "So…" Not so subtlely, the rider asks, "How did things go with the Weyrwoman?" Afterall, he needs to know if this is a round-trip or not.

Cenlia nods politely to the Nyunath when the dragon warbles, and watches R'owan curiously as the bags get tied. There's an amused snort at the question, "Weyrwoman Niva has her head on straight. Said I ain't bein' sent home. Gotta return the jacket, an'… prolly should stop by South Boll t' see my da," and she pauses, "An' then back here so's I can work on gettin' Thea t' loosen up. Maybe with more cupcakes." Cenlia can't help grinning a bit.

There is a look of relief that passes on R'owan's face at this news, and as he hops to the ground a second time, dusting his riding gloves off on his sides, he nods firmly once. "That's good. I'd have hated to see you get sent home. Weyr wouldn't be half as much fun without you. Who would cause all the animal disasters if you weren't around?" His tired face pulls up in a bit of a teasing smirk. He motions towards the bronze's riding straps, offering a hand if needed. "We're all set. Just need one last package and that one gets the good seating." Nyunath's head swivels around to watch the two, curious as to this human 'package' he's carrying today.

Cenlia makes a face at the mention of animal disasters, the girl muttering, "Ain't none of those was my fault. Shardin' ovines…" She's still grinning, though, as she accepts the hand up. "Shards, he got big," Cenlia observes, having likely not seen the bronze up close since the hatching. There's another amused snort, the gardener girl saying, "Yeah, well this package is payin' ya with booze an' rumcakes."

Nyunath seems to rumble his approval at the girl's comment, shifting his feet a little. His twilight-shaded wings fan out as if trying to show off to the gardener. "I know, I know." R'owan replies with a laugh, shaking his head from side to side, "But you have to admit you have bad luck with animals." He takes the first few rungs of the riding straps and then throws himself over the darker bronze of Nyunath's neck, and then helps to pull Cenlia up behind him. "I'll take booze as payment. Someone still owes me a turnday boozing from two turns ago, you know." He reminds her, and then starts to fasten the riding straps in place, even as Nyunath's tail begins to twitch faster, itching to get airborne.

Cenlia certainly looks rather impressed by those wings, watching them fan out with evident curiosity. There's a slight grimace as she turns back to agree, "Yeah, shardin' animals. And my da's a beastcrafter too," and she groans, "He's gonna make me clean the chicken coop, I just know it." And if there's one thing Cenlia dislikes more than ovines, it's chickens. She does laugh, though, nodding to R'owan and saying, "I ain't forgotten. Just means the booze has had more time to age. Older it is, better it'll taste."

With a tug, R'owan checks both his riding straps and Cenlia's, nodding just once when everything seems to be in place. "Well, I'll lend you a hand if you want. Don't really mind cleaning out coops, and it'll get us back to the weyr faster." With one last check of the bags attached to the bronze's straps, he nods. Nyunath seems to take this as his signal and rises, taking care not to jostle his passenger. There is a subtle shift of his hips, crouching them beneath himself before using the sheer force of his muscles to propell upward. Beat. Beat. The huge wings flex and push the air out from underneath him as they catch a swirling updraft and begin to circle up out of the clearing. "Better be some good booze. Been waiting on it a long time." His voice comes out wind-blown, but there's a laugh in it. "Let me know when you're ready and we'll hop between."

Cenlia watches the ground depart with entirely too big a grin on her face. Somebody seems to be lacking a decent fear of heights. "Dun hafta," she comments about the chicken coop, and then nods to R'owan with an, "'M good," about going between.

Warbling in an almost sing-songy way, Nyunath sweeps around through the air-currents with only a casual concern for those riding on his back. He may not be as quick and jolty as a blue or green, but the need for speed is there in the quick motions of his wings through the air currents. "Alright, hold on." Bugling his departure, Nyunath takes one sweep of his wings and then all three… rider, passenger and dragon disappear *between*.

Ista Weyr - Southeast Sky

Above, the sky is a neverending canvas of blue - mixed with grey and white as the weather changes - but below, the view is just as breathtakingly stunning: Ista Weyr and her environs spreading out in rocky crevices and great peaks. Patches of greenery interrupt volcanic stone, jungles and areas of growth startling in contrast to that - and the great, blue waters that spread further away, against sable sands, visible thanks to the collapse of one wall of the bowl. To the northwest, the further curve of the bowl is visible, whilst beaches and forest spread to the southeast.

The weyr walls rise up to the sky, the pock-marks of ledges and personal weyrs beyond visible about all sides of the great caldera. Nearest to the bowl floor are the ramps to the ground weyrs, and the larger entrances to caverns - not to mention the smaller area of the training grounds. Ista's Star Stones, a remnant of times past, sit high against the bowl wall: a sentinal against the peaks of the Weyr.

Cenlia sucks in hear breath, and then quickly lets out her breath as they pop out of between, looking faintly relieved. Heights she can handle, but there're some things the girl just never will get used to. Looking a little pale, but otherwise fine, she stares at the landscape. "Shards," is finally muttered, the girl eyeing Ista and finally starting to look a little nervous.

Nyunath warbles victoriously as he once again has traversed the dark land between and arrived at his destination. However, the dragon doesn't decend just yet, keeping to the high sky as he begins a slow circle. "I'm having Nyunath bespeak Kinseth." R'owan explains over the rush of air and wingbeats. "Getting us permission to land." With the tension between Ista and Xanadu, there's always extra hoops to jump through. "Got to do this by the book."

[DTU/Project] Kinseth senses that Nyunath slides into your consciousness with a rumble like distant thunderous drumbeats. « Please let yours know that mine and the Xanadu gardener are here to see him. We would like permission to land and make deliveries to yours and to the weyr. »

[DTU/Project] Nyunath senses that Kinseth's mind booms and echoes like thunder. « He knows, we come. Permission granted to land in the southern bowl. » There's a rush of wind then, whisking the larger bronze's words away. The voice adds, fainter, but warmer, « Welcome. »

Cenlia gulps, eyeing the landscape with a fascination tempered only by the girl's growing nervousness. "Sir Kinseth," she mumbles automatically, and then chews her bottom lip. The little gold flit, still hiding under the gardener's hair, croons quietly.

Ista Weyr - Southern Bowl

Compared to that of other weyrs, Ista's bowl is small, and incomplete - northwards, one wall was blown clear away several millenia ago, leaving the view clear towards the plateau, the jungles, and the ocean beyond that. Somewhat elliptical, the breadth of the bowl seems to run Northwest to Southeast, the bustling epicentre of the weyr being here, towards the southwest. Several large entrances have been dug into the great bowl walls here - north east are the hatching grounds, south the Living Caverns, these being the two largest caverns in the weyr.

To the east, a small entrance leads in to the ground weyrs - the ledges of these line the bowl wall above, often filled with dragons of gold or bronze; westwards is another ledge, but with a staircase built into the wall, allowing access to the Sable Sands. The infirmary is located towards the southwest.

Slowly, Nyunath begins to decend, although it's casual at first. "Looks like we're clear to land." R'owan says over his shoulder, nodding once before the bronze starts to decend more quickly towards the southern bowl. "-Sir- Kinseth." The young bronzerider corrects himself. The bronze takes his time, circling ever slower until finally he backwings and drops the last few feet to the ground with a rush of dust and wings. He warbles his own welcome, and then folds his wings back behind him. "Alright, we're here." R'owan starts to unbuckle the riding straps, starting with Cenlia's first before his own.

Cenlia just waits patiently to be unbuckled from the straps, the girl chewing her lip and looking around.

Kinseth backwings in to land only moments after Nyunath, X'hil quickly swinging one leg over the bronze's neck before they've even landed, and sliding down to the ground, jogging the short distance to the younger bronze. "Hi, hi, hi! Welcome! What brings you out here?" he asks, cheerful and energetic, though there's a curious tilt of his head. He's not looking for anything in particular, honest. Certainly nothing jacket-like. Ahem.

Ysa's assistant couldn't help but notice the draconic envoy from her usual perch against the side of the bowl. She perks a bit more when the Weyrleader himself arrives to greet them. These people must be important. Shory stands, dusting her skirts, and approaches the pair of bronzes, making a quick note on a paper towards teh bottom of her stack, but sayign nothting for now. After all, she didnt' know these people. Yet.

R'owan pulls down a smaller bag from one of the front hooks on the bronze's riding straps, and then throws a leg over the bronze, sliding down the straps to land on the ground. "Xanadu's greetings to Ista and her queens, Weyrleader." The younger bronzerider's face is a smile though, obvious that he's playing the game 'by the book' just to make sure no one accuses him of being an ungracious visitor. "Got some deliveries for the weyr. And one for you." He motions over his shoulder towards Cenlia, and then shrugs half helplessly. Weyrwoman's errand boy on bronze, it seems. "Hey there." He offers more casually to the woman approaching, nodding once.

Cenlia slides easily to the ground. The girl's head jerks up at the sight of Kinseth, and she swallows nervously. But the moment she sees X'hil, her gaze drops back down to the ground, shoulders hunching, the gardener girl looking incredibly guilty as she worries at her bottom lip. But she nevertheless steps forward, one had grabbing the strap of the bag over her shoulder in a deathgrip. From beneath her runnertail, a hatchling gold firelizard chirps once and peers around.

X'hil straightens up a little at R'owan's 'formal' greeting, but he's still grinning as he responds, "Ah, and Ista's welcome to our Xanadu visitors." Quietly he mutters, 'I think that's how it goes…' - formality isn't such a strong suit for the man, not even with Kinseth to nudge him in the right direction. Shorynia's approach is noted with a nod, and he seems about to say something, but then he spots Cenlia, and smirks. "/Another/ firelizard?" he jokes, then frowns as he notices the gardener's guilt and nerves. "I-is something the matter?" he asks, a little puzzled, and concerned.

Shorynia smiles when R'owan actually speaks to her, "Hello." She glances at Cenlia, then back to R'owan, "I can take any deliveries for the Weyr proper." Her eyes stray back to Cenlia, "Your gold is very pretty." Somewhere in all of that she'd nodded back to X'hil, but it was lost in all of the back and forths before she takes another note, recording the nature of the Weyr's visitors.

R'owan nods his head once the formalities are done, and with that much taken care of, he's back to being the normal, somewhat easy-going boy he'd always been before impressing his bronze dragon. Nyunath simply settles himself, seeming content to look around the foreign surroundings and take in the voices of the local dragons. "If you think she has a faire, you should see how many M'nol's managed to wrangle." R'owan quips quickly, and then turns his attention more officially to Shorynia. "Right." He offers out the small bag dangling from his fingers. "There's a few letters, and one package." It's significantly less than would be normal, but considering the political climate, that's probably not too unusual.

Without a word, Cenlia shrugs off the bag on her shoulder and opens it, pulling out an old, beat-up flight jacket with a patch on the back. It's missing the weyrsecond knot, now, but it is in otherwise fine condition. The gardener girl's lower lip does a little wobble, so she promptly bites down on it, while shoving the jacket in X'hil's direction. She finally manages a quiet, "M' sorry," and that seems to be all she's going to be able to get out, as she just barely manages to stifle a sniffle. Seems Niva's reassurances fell a bit short somewhere. The little gold under her hair, however, manages a much more cheerful chirp at the Istan weyrleader.

X'hil gapes as Cenlia hands him the jacket, and quickly snatches it up, hugging it close for a moment, before realising what he's doing, and blushing. Just a jacket. Just a jacket. Yes. He carefully refolds the jacket, and moves over to drape it over one of Kinseth's legs for the time being. "I, ah, thanks, thanks a lot." he says, with a relieved smile. He has his jacket back! There's a curious tilt to his head though. His voice is softer then, curious, as he asks, "What are you sorry for? /I'm/ the one that left it behind." He'd say all is forgiven, but he really doesn't blame her, so there's nothing to 'forgive'. "Besides, I have it now, that's all that matters." he adds, with a smile meant to be encouraging. There's a pause, and he glances to R'owan. "How long are you here for?" he asks, curiously. If it seems like he's inviting a longer stay, well, that would be because he is, in a round-about way.

Shorynia smiles, taking the bag and slipping it over her shoulder with a practiced turn and causing her green firelizard to squawk at her for being disturbed as she disentangles her from her neck. Then she chuckles, watching X'hil's reaction to the jacket, "*That*'s the jacket you've been looking all over Pern for? Glad it's back, then. Maybe you'll come by the Sands more now."

With his official job taken care of, R'owan shoves his hands into his riding jacket pockets and glances over at the interaction between X'hil and Cenlia. Like before, he's at a bit of a loss for what exactly went on between these two, so he lifts one eyebrow curiously. However, X'hil addressing him snaps his attention back. "As long as she wants, or until you kick us out. Although I do have other deliveries to make today and… we have one more stop before heading back to Xanadu." The young bronzerider shrugs his shoulders, and glances at Cenlia. Leaving the answer for that one in her hands.

Cenlia looks relieved at X'hil's reaction, though the girl still worries at her bottom lip. At the question, Cenlia is silent for a moment, before finally raising her head to glare at X'hil, and then lunges at the man with a, "Ya sharding wherry!" Yes, she did just call the Istan weyrleader a wherry. And if he doesn't get out of the way, the weyrleader's going to find himself squeezed round the middle in a tight hug as Cenlia grumbles, "Yer worsen Eled!" And honestly, the latter might be the worse insult of the two.

X'hil blushes again as Shorynia mentions he's been looking all over Pern for that jacket. "No, no, I was just looking for /a/ jacket!" he states firmly, then his voice goes a little quieter, "To, er, replace it." But he had trouble finding one. For one thing, every tanner he spoke to tried to sell him one that actually /fit/ him. It's worth noting probably that he's not wearing a jacket now, and likely couldn't find one at all. There's a nod to R'owan. "Ah, well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties…" No rush though. Really. And then he's attacked by Cenlia. Attacked with a hug. He's clearly surprised, he just sort of stands there looking stunned, though comparing him to Eledri does get an indignant, "Hey!"

Shorynia watches the interplay between the three who obviously know eachother with some interest. Were all riders like this? She giggles when Cenlia tackles X'hil, her quiet 'I'm working now' reserve lost to the moment, before she's glancing back at R'owan with an odd glint in her eye, "Your bronze is quite beautiful, what's his name?"

R'owan can't help but let out one small, dry chuckle. "I'd be the same way if I lost my jacket. I think." He seems quite comfortable in his oversized riding jacket, the same one he's had since his time as a messenger. He can't help but stare for a moment when Cenlia all but tackles poor X'hil, lifting one hand to run through his tussled hair with confusion. Would he ever understand what was going on between those two? Nope, probably not. Luckily Shorynia saves him from pondering on that too much. Grinning with a bit of pride, he looks over his shoulder at the bronze. "His name is Nyunath." The bronze rumbles just once, letting his head come down closer to the Shory as he looks at her with one whirling eye. "And he says that he appreciates your compliment."

Cenlia isn't about to let go. Poor X'hil, who knew getting his jacket back would cost him a babbling gardener? "Sir Kinseth /told/ me not t- t' let ya have any booze- an'- m' da found it in the /chicken coop/ an- an' then Thea was gonna have me shipped back to South Boll-" and Cenlia just dissolves into babbling a trail of, "M' sorry- m' sorry," while trying not to sniffle on him. The little gold under her hair just chitters irritably.

X'hil is a little preoccupied with hugging gardener right now, but he does manage to nod at R'owan. "Jacket, /that/ jacket, it's… important. To me." And he has it now, and all is well. Yes. And then he's trying to make sense of Cenlia's babbling, doing his absolute best to look like he's concerned and listening, going so far as to awkwardly pat Cenlia on the back. "It's okay, it's okay. It's here now, it's all good. If anyone ships you anywhere, just send a firelizard and Kinseth and I, we'll come get you. We promise." He means it, too. He always means it when he makes promises, though sometimes things can get in the way.

Shorynia smiles, reaching up towards Nyunath's eyeridges with a "May I? He is quite handsome. I'm Shorynia, by the way." She glances back at X'hil and Cenlia, "Are… Are they always like that? He seems a tad old for her… not that age really matters, but…"

R'owan's eyes can't help but drift back towards X'hil and Cenlia. He's not all that bothered by their close relationship, having known both rider and gardener for quite a while. Still, he says in his softest voice, trying perhaps to explain to X'hil what he thinks is the root of the problem. "She thinks that something she did got you kicked out of Xanadu, or made you leave. I'm guessing she's blaming herself for boozing you up." Shaking his head slightly, he nods to Shory and gives a small bow. "R'owan. Ro if you'd like. A pleasure to meet you. And feel free. He loves the attention." Nyunath gives a deep, musical warble, letting his head nudge closer towards the woman. As for her other question, Ro simply shrugs. "Not usually. I'm not sure it's quite like that, though." Yeah, totally confused bronzerider here.

The pat on the back has Cenlia coming back to her senses. The gardener girl finally realizes what she's doing, and suddenly backpedals, looking painfully embarrassed. Rubbing at her face with her hands, she grumbles a "Forget it," and stares fixedly at the ground. Shorynia's comment has Cen's face reddening, the gardener shooting the other girl a horrified scowl momentarily, "He's sharding /old/." And then she crosses her arms and glares at the ground, grumbling at R'owan, "Still gotta get me back to Boll." Though that might just be the embarrassment talking.

X'hil blinks a little at Shorynia, and might be blushing a tad. "You… We… We're not…" No no no. No. "We're just… It's complicated…" He frowns, and tries again, "Cen's like a sister to me." Really. There's a blink at R'owan's explanation, and X'hil tilts his head at Cenlia. "You… It's /not/ your fault. And we weren't /kicked/ out." There's a pause, and he frowns. He left of his own free will, and he didn't /tell/ anyone. How can he make this sound less bad? He can't, really, and he continues in a quiet voice, not making eye contact with anyone. "…we…" there's a glance at Kinseth, and then a sigh. "Okay, /I/, ran. From Isabet. And Xylaihl. But mainly Isabet…" Isabet is his foster mother, and Xylaihl is his actual mother. Then he looks sharply up at Cenlia. "/Back to Boll/?! Are they really shipping you off?" he asks, and by the look in his eyes he's prepared to do whatever it takes to stop it, if that is indeed the case.

Shorynia glances at the myriad answers, then chuckles, scritching Nyunath's eyeridges, "If you say so… Seems like a pretty strong friendship to me. He's even going to go fight a war for her from the look in his eyes."

People are crazy. R'owan just shrugs his shoulders. "There's all kinds of types of love." At least, this is the best way he can wrap his mind around things. Nyunath, luckily, is quite oblivious to such problems. He croons and leans his huge head more towards Shory, trying to bring more scratchings from her. "They aren't shipping her off anywhere. I wouldn't let them stick her back in Boll." R'owan seems pretty sure of this fact, but he leaves it for Cenlia to explain just exactly what is going on.

Cenlia seems to be refusing to look at anyone, the girl glaring at the ground, face still red. It doesn't help that X'hil's explanation takes so long to get to 'like a sister', Cen looking exasperated in the meanwhile. At the mention of his mother, Cenlia snorts, saying dismissively, "Yea, Weyrwoman Niva said as much," and shrugging as if she'd half-expected it. What Cen and Niva were doing discussing X'hil's mother is anyone's guess. But still not looking at him, nope. It's only at that last bit does Cenlia snap, "Yea, /Boll/. I gotta go explain t' my da what yer shardin' jacket was doin' in his chicken coop." Scooowl.

X'hil would do the same if it were his brother A'li in trouble, or his aunt Zhaila, or Kinseth. Cenlia is just one of four, really. Though that is a very small group, especially considering the largeness of his family. He seems comforted by R'owan's reassurance that Cenlia is booked for a return trip, but ultimately confused, and somewhat frowny. He blinks as Cenlia mentions Weyrwoman Niva, and seems about to ask something, but shuts his mouth at Cenlia's snap, and looks very very guilty. There's an awkward pause as he tries to think of the right thing to say or do here. "I, ah… Anything, er, I can… do?" he asks, finally. He feels awful about the whole mess, relieved to get his jacket back, but still incredibly guilty. "It was my doing, my fault. I should … take the blame." Yes. Yes he should.

Shorynia scritches Nyunath's eyeridges harder when the bronze leans in for more and nods, "There are many kinds of love. Hope I can experience all of 'em one day… they do tend to sneak up on ya, though." She watches the tableau before her unfold with poorly concealed interest, still scritching Nyu, of course, then she nods, "Surely, if you ever needed it there'd be a place for you here, right Weyrleader?" She glances at X'hil, feeling quite certain she hadn't spoken out of turn, especially since she was a refugee herself.

"In that much of a rush to clean chicken coops?" R'owan seems a little surprised at the sudden change in demeanor from Cenlia, but then again… girls are a confusing and alien species to him. Luckily he's got a girl who thinks more like a boy and that works out just fine for him in the relationship department. Nyunath lowers himself into a laying position, content to bask in the attention. R'owan doesn't comment on Shorynia's words, although it does cause a small frown to purse his lips. "We can stick around for a while. I'm sure Nyunath would love a chance to check out the warmer ocean up here. You and X'hil can talk and we can pick you up and go on to Boll this afternoon?"

Cenlia has only one simple answer for X'hil, "No." After all, he's the Istan weyrleader. She's /not/ about to ask him to clean chicken coops. "Congrats on the knot," she does mumble at the man, but then adds on, "Ya walked off with 'm tuber ale." Is she mad about /that/? Not likely, but Cen seems to want to be mad about something. Embarrassment does that. Shorynia gets a brief look from the gardener girl, "This ain't my home." Despite being something of a tomboy, Cenlia is most definitely a girl, and thinks like one. R'owan's suggestion is met with hunched shoulders, Cen muttering, "M' ready t' go when you are." After all, it's not like she can get to South Boll on her own.

X'hil nods at Shorynia's 'invitation' of sorts. "Yes, yes, of course. Plenty of room." …well, not really, the Weyr is still a little crowded at the moment, but not /nearly/ so badly as it has been recently. There'd be room enough. "If… if you want." It's all up to Cenlia, after all. There's a blink at Cenlia's 'no', though. "A-are you sure? I, er, I should be doing /something/." Please? It would make him feel /so/ much better, he feels absolutely awful about everything. "No-one I can talk to, take responsibility? I'm very responsible." Now. Very responsible /now/. He's responsible for a whole Weyr! …and Kinseth no doubt encouraged him to accept the knot. "Ah, er, thanks. Not Weyrleader exactly, just standing in until there's a flight." He seems to think it's just temporary. And he does have a point, he has quite a bit of trouble holding onto knots. In the past few turns, he's traded his Ierne weaver apprentice knot for a Xanadu weyrsecond knot, traded that for a search and rescue knot, then weyrsecond again, then Search and Rescue at Ista, and now Weyrleader.

Shorynia nods, still scritchign Nyu's headknobs and eyeridges, "Just saying… in case you ever need to. Certainly have enough unwanted guests, some wanted ones'd be a nice change." She smiles, "The beaches are getting a little cold, but that's just by my standards."

R'owan shrugs his shoulders a bit, within easy reaching distance of his dragon as he places a hand on the bronze's neck. "Well, we can get going then if you want. I've finished my deliveries, so have you." He's not about to push the girl either way, although he certainly does seem a little puzzled about things. "Don't rush on my account, though. So long as I don't end up with an 'extended' stay, I'm fine." He's probably referring to the recent captivity of certain Xanadu weyrleadership. His eyes flicker towards X'hil, and just offers the rider a bit of a helpless look.

Cenlia shakes her head, "Ain't gettin' in more trouble," is all she says, though in reality, she's probably more worried about X'hil getting in trouble. Somehow. Cen's a terrible influence, really. Seems like Thea's scare tactics may have worked, somewhat. The gardener girl shakes her head. Cenlia may be refusing to look at X'hil, but the girl does raise her eyes to look at Kinseth, saying confidently, "Sir Kinseth could win th' flight." Well, at least she believes in his /dragon/. X'hil? Maybe not so much. Cen turns and heads back to R'owan, eyeing him expectantly, though she does shoot back at X'hil one final comment, "Weyrwoman Niva said ya was a good weyrsecond, an Ista's got a better weyrleader th-" but she breaks off quickly, turning back to R'owan.

X'hil grimaces at the mention of ending up with an 'extended' stay. "Not on my watch. Xanadu folk are welcome to come and go, so long as /I'm/ wearing this knot." He wasn't wearing this knot when the Xanadu riders were detained, not exactly. They were released shortly after he got it. He blinks a little at Cenlia. "I… Niva said that?" He still remembers when Niva took his first weyrsecond knot away. He looks guilty for just up and leaving the way he did, now. Kinseth rumbles smugly. Oh yes, he could win the flight, in fact, he doesn't see any other outcome. X'hil is a little less certain. He /does/ have a certain knack for getting himself into trouble, probably not the best attribute for a Weyrleader to have. X'hil shakes his head slowly, and sighs. "You're /sure/ there's nothing I can do?"

Shorynia continues to give Nyunath good solid scritches, "You could probalby steal a whole case of fine Benden and we couldn't detain you. Too many people in the cells already, and much more dangerous than a petty thief, all of 'em." She chuckles, "Not that good glass of wine would be unwelcome just now."

R'owan glances towards Shorynia, and then shakes his head slightly from side to side. "I'll pass on stealing wine. I'm sure I could get a few people back at the weyr more than willing to get me boozed without starting an incident." Nyunath, sensing the change in atmosphere, finally lifts his head away from the woman and stands at his full height, waiting for his passengers. "Alright then. Next stop, South Boll." He reaches for the riding straps to hold them steady so Cenlia can mount up. "Sorry for the quickness of visit X'hil, but my time isn't my own today. Next time."

Cenlia does nod, stating firmly, "Niva said it." And she did, too. She doesn't answer X'hil's second question, still waiting for R'owan. Shorynia's suggestion gets another scowl from the gardener, the girl practically snapping, "I ain't no thief!" Glaaare. Wrong thing to say there, considering the cause of this whole mess. And abruptly to R'owan, "Let's go." And with that she clambers up Nyunath's straps.

Shorynia's eyes open a little wide, "I… I never said you were. Just making an example… I haven't met a bad Xanadu rider yet, even the ones what were in the cells were nice. Just wrong place, wrong time." The poor girl isn't nearly so old as she acts sometimes… and now she looks truly hurt.

X'hil nods slowly as R'owan and Cenlia mount Nyunath, taking a step backwards, towards Kinseth. "Well. Good luck." he says, looking a little disappointed. "Be sure to visit again soon." he adds, with a little wave. There's a glance to Shorynia, and a slight scowl, but he doesn't say anything. He'll buy 'wrong place, wrong time' as an excuse, but still. "Why is it always /alcohol/?" he mutters under his breath, turning away, to Kinseth.

R'owan is quick to mount up after Cenlia, fastening straps, checking straps and then nodding once. The bronzerider lifts one arm in farewell and then the big bronze leaps into the air, beating his wings upward until just high enough over the bowl to blink out *between*.

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