Got Paranoia?

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 early morning… but not the typical time most people tend to get up. It's that time just as the sun is coming up where most people are clinging to their beds in an effort to stay asleep. F'yr… is not one of them. She looks like she's been awake for /awhile/ now, and pacing a good groove in the sand anxiously in front of the water, dressed in her riding leathers against the cool morning chill. Zaruath is hovering nearby, looking a bit nervous himself but confused as to what to do. The brownrider pauses, feels around in her jacket, and pulls out a slingshot. "I know what I saw and I ain't going back to bed! Rest day or not," she shouts over her shoulder to her lifemate, before scooping a piece of shell, ammo, which she then shoots off far out into the water.

It's not unusual for Eledri to be up this early; he often wanders down to the beach to think, and this quiet time of the morning is generally perfect for doing such a thing. He's walking slowly down from the meadow, though from a distance he does bear a rather striking similarity to a certain gardener. Although the man is a bit taller and is sporting a pair of spectacles pushed high up on the bridge of his nose. His pace is unhurried, and his shoulders relaxed as he walks, not seeming to have any direction in mind, really. The young man wearing a laptop bag slung over one shoulder, and a small cellphone is attached to a clip on his belt. He isn't paying all that much attention as he goes, probably not expecting to run into anyone. And certainly not a shouting brownrider. He blinks, frowning a little and slowing down, but he's already headed in her direction. "Is.. everything alright?" he asks, glancing hesitantly from dragon to rider.

Surprisingly Zaruath remains completely silent… on the outside. He does jerk his head over in the direction of Eledri, shrinking down into the shadow he was resting in to watch but doesn't interfere. F'yr riled up can always be bad. The brownrider spins around, squatting to pick up another shell, and having it in the thong of the slingshot and pulled back to aim at Eledri all in a matter of seconds. "Who're you?" she asks immediately, caught by surprise by the look on her face. "Or… wait, I don't know you. Can't you see II'm busy here?" And by busy she means… doing nothing. She doesn't lower her weapon at all but she does look over it to glare at the young man suspiciously.

Eledri blinks at F'yr, apparently taken aback by having a weapon aimed at him. He frowns from behind his glasses, but manages a polite, if stiff, "Journeyman Eledri. Landing's duties," and inclines his head, eyes on that slingshot. What is /with/ female riders and missile weapons? Honestly. "I won't disturb you then," he adds, edging around her, aiming to walk past and continue on his way.

"Eledri?" repeats F'yr, apparently surprised by this name. She frowns thoughtfully to herself, trying to put some sort of meaning behind it before slowly lowering her slingshot. "I don't think I know any Eledris, but you /do/ look familiar." She swivels back to face the water, lifting the weapon and firing off the shell bit towards the calm lake. "You ain't disturbing me. In fact, you can help me. Kinda weird to see someone else up this early and out here."

Eledri eyes the brownrider, frowning a little, though offering a hesitant, "No.. I don't believe we've met..?" He pauses, as if expecting some form of introduction. His brows come together briefly, though; most people who recognize him are either geeks or friends of his sister. He's not too fond of the latter. Brown eyes flicker toward the dragon briefly, and then back to the rider, the young man saying slowly, "I'm often at Xanadu." His gaze follows the shell's trajectory, though he continues to frown as he asks, almost warily, "What do you need help with?" He does shrug slightly, adjusting the laptop bag and muttering, "I'm just a morning person." A grumpy one, from the tone of his voice.

F'yr stays quiet during his pause, not offering any name for his own. In fact, she seems to be purposefully avoiding it for the moment. "You help with all those computers and what nots, huh?" she asks, eyeing his laptop case curiously and speaking as if it were all foreign words. She snorts at his last comment though, rolling her eyes at him and ending with gazing off at her lifemate. "And my Zaruath's a happy green dragon. Yeah right." Another shell is scooped up as she stretches the wait out a little bit. "I'm looking for someone. Saw him in my weyr, you see, but Zaru says it was nothing. The name's F'yr, by the way," she quickly adds in before continuing. "Tall guy, got long blackish hair to here, wearing a jacket, looking like - well, like a renegade that needs to be dead." She drops her hand from her shoulder where she was pointing out hair length, her eyes completely serious as she looks at Eledri, waiting for a response.

There's a brief nod, Eledri simply saying, "Yes, I accompany the Nebula wingriders to and from Landing." He glances back at the dragon, and when F'yr does finally offer her own name he responds with a formal, if still stiff, "Well met, F'yr and Zaruath." His brows come together as he thinks, shaking his head slowly and saying, "No, I'm sorry, I haven't seen anyone that matches that description." He probably hasn't seen anyone outside ofa computer lab lately, for that matter. And then that frown he's wearing deepens into concern, "/Renegade/?" He returns the woman's gaze, eyebrows rising as he asks skeptically, "What would a renegade be doing in your weyr?"

F'yr's shoulders droop down just a little at his answer. "Did you come by the meadow? 'Course, if you were just there I suppose you /wouldn't/ have seen him." A concerned rumble echoes from the spot that Zaruth has been crouching, and there's the sound of claws scraping at the sand. "I /wasn't/ asleep," she growls aloud, tugging at her hair before sighing heavily and letting the mood pass. She tucks the slingshot into a side pocket again and smirks at Eledri. "Why, to kill me of course. What else would a renegade be doing? Zaru wouldn't allow that to happen though." Which she just proves that it was all in her head.

Eledri hesitates a moment, glancing back toward the meadow and then nodding, "I did.. I'm sorry, I didn't see anyone on the way." At that rumble, Eled glances back at the dragon, brows coming together again as he looks between the brown and rider. "If that's the case," he offers reluctantly, "I'm sure someone could.. organize a search?" Or something. He doesn't know; he's just a tech geek! But with all the rumors of renegade activity that's gone on in the area, he's not looking as dubious as he might otherwise.

"It was awhile 'go anyway," says F'yr as she flaps a hand at the man. "Nevermind it, really. If you didn't see him, and Zaru didn't see him…" He must not exist, right? But she doesn't say that aloud. She folds herself up, dropping to the ground to sulk in the sand. "That'd work great. A Search party for a dead man. I think the Weyrleaders will /really/ like me if I asked for that." She tilts her head up though, eyeing that computer for a long moment. "Course, you'd be good bait. Got lots of marks since you're carrying one of those, or do computer crafters get 'em as they get promoted? I only ever met two computer crafters before. Well, one really."

Eledri still looks concerned, though he doesn't comment on her likely imagination. There's a very hesitant, "Dead?" as he regards the brownrider, and then he takes an involuntary step back, "/Bait/?" Frown. A longer moment of hesitation, and then he answers carefully, "This," hands closing around the strap of the laptop bag across his chest, "Was a gift. I don't think anyone but another computrcrafter would be able to use it." He does glance warily back toward the meadow. Great. She's making him /paranoid/ now. But he forces his shoulders to relax at he shakes his head, "I don't carry any marks with me," not answering about promotion.

F'yr rubs hard at her temples for a moment before bobbing her head. "Or thought to be dead. But I /saw/ him." Cue snort from her lifemate who obviously had been there too. "Yeah, bait. Don't matter if no one can use it, it's a fancy piece of technology stuff that not everyone has. Sounds like something someone would wanna take, right?" She drags her knees up to herself, but leans back on her hands instead to look up at Eledri. "Never thought 'bout it 'fore? You don't look like a fighter either… maybe you should learn something 'fore you find yourself flat on your back and your stuff gone. Marks can be made other ways, too." Paranoia is what Fy does best.

Eledri just frowns. /Now/ he's looking dubious. His hands remain closed around the strap of his laptop bag, however, as he shakes his head, stating simply, "I know how to fight." And despite looking like a geek, he really does. He was an orchard brat once; though right now he just looks like a geek. The problem is, his sister knows how to fight better, so even those who know him tend to think he fights like a girl. He does bring his lips together in a thin line before saying, "I don't think there's anything to worry about. Not in the weyr." Except he doesn't look too sure about it. Paranoia? He has it. After all, he was here during the fog, when the renegades snuck in and wrote stuff on the table in the caverns.

F'yr's eyes go from Eledri's feet to the top of his head, resting on his glasses and then go right back down to his feet. "Sure you know how to fight," she finally replies with a snort. "It probably ain't the same if you're facing someone that doesn't play nice." She sits up again and wraps her arms around her legs for a moment, blue eyes finally turning away from the geeky man towards the water. "The Weyr ain't a safe place at all. People just like to think so, make 'em feel better. People've been kidnapped and killed in Weyrs before. Plenty of times." This brownrider speaks from experience, too.

Eledri's cheeks color slightly, ut he just frowns at the brownrider, not commenting. He probably couldn't take on a renegade, but he does say flatly with a grimace, "Clearly, you've never met my sister." She's the one that beats him up all the time, after all. He frowns, though, the holdbred young man looking unsure all over again. "Kidnapped?" he asks, "Here?"

F'yr raises a brow at Eledri briefly, as if waiting for something about his fighting skills. But then that brow is joined by its twin. "Your sister? Why?" Pause. "Who's your sister?" The brows go down, furrowing tightly together in thought as she looks over her shoulder in the direction of the Weyr. "You know, I got no idea 'bout Xanadu's history. Though I did hear rumors here or there 'bout kidnappings here, yeah. The ones I'm talking about were in Western though. Plenty of people there were…" She lifts both her shoulders up in a helpless shrug from where she's sitting. "You ain't really safe no matter where you are."

Eledri hesitates. After a moment, he admits reluctantly, and with a slight grimace, "Cenlia. She's a gardener here." His tone is anything but brotherly, "She gets into …trouble." Putting it mildly. "Western," he repeats, frowning down the length of his nose at F'yr, though he has to agree, "No I suppose nowhere is completely safe." He glances back toward the meadow again. Frowny-faced, the computercrafter mutters, "Xanadu isn't any better off. Apparently they've had renegades sneaking in with the fog." He shakes his head, lips pursed.

F'yr can't help the double-take as she looks at Eledri in a different light, suddenly. "/Cenlia/? Seriously? I… suppose I see the resemblance." She giggles a little though, even if it is strained. "Trouble ain't as bad as you make it sound. Though she can do without killing herself by all that alcohol she drinks." She glances around when he does, cocking her head curiously to one side. "There were? Here too? Shells… Then maybe someone /was/ in my weyr!" She looks anxious all over again, picking herself up off the ground to pace again. "But I really think that renegades probably sneak in all the time. It's when they /do/ stuff that's bad."

Oh, that double-take can't be good. Eledri grimaces. "..Yes," and he sighs, grumbling, "Trouble follows her. Everywhere." He merely shrugs about the alcohol, though. He's not really one to talk, considering all the brewers in his family. The man does nod, though, saying, "I think they found a renegade girl the last time. And.." he furrows his brow, "There was some writing in the caverns. It had been carved into one of the tables." He watches the brownrider, as if pondering something, then finally says, "I doubt you have much to worry about. You're a rider." She has a big /dragon/ after all.

"I can imagine. Doesn't one of her firelizards go by that?" That definitely makes F'yr giggle. Hahah, puns! "Trouble ain't always that bad so long as it's not hurting anyone, right?" She smirks at some memories that brings up before it fades into a frown again. "They did? Well… Weyrs, full of renegades you know. Look at Ista, they got a bunch of 'em running around that place as well as locked up. I mean, renegades really are the ones that do the killing and the thieving and all that nasty stuff." She stops her pacing to dig her feet into the ground, looking first at Zaruath and then at Eledri. "I didn't always have a dragon, you know." and both shoulders shrug up again.

Eledri furrows his brow, "Yes… I think so," about the firelizard named Trouble. "It's aptly named," the man grumbles, shaking his head. And then he does frown, "More often than not, someone gets hurt." Dissapproval, he has it. Eledri frowns some more; all this talk about renegades is bad enough, really. He just wanted a quiet walk on the beach! The young man sighs, muttering, "I'm sure there aren't any here." It's not very reassuring, but at least he tries?

"She seems to name them all very well," says an amused F'yr about the gardener's flock of firelizards. "Are you saying that cause you're normally the one that gets hurt? Though she did get Sigam good with a bottle that once." This, somehow, just makes Fy snicker to herself a little bit before she crosses her arms and lifts her chin up to Eledri to study him. "You ain't really a good listener, are you? I've been saying that Weyrs aren't really safe from 'em. They've been here, and they are likely still 'round, just not causing problems. You just gotta be /prepared/ for when they do." And she then pats her belt knife at her side with a smirk.

Eledri snorts, muttering sourly, "She's a menace," though he might sound just a little sulky, at that. And yes, he is usually the one getting beat up. He raises a curious eyebrow, though, "Sigam?" And he might look a little concerned. Anytime Cenlia's beating up someone /other/ than him. Then Eledri just frowns about the renegades, though possibly he's trying /not/ to listen, as he's been shooting wary glances back toward the meadow. His eyes are drawn to the belt knife, lps pressing together in a line, though he doesn't comment. He hasn't encountered any renegades yet, that he knows…though he's also unarmed. Can't fight off a renegade with a cellphone, after all.

F'yr shakes her head at that comment of his sister. "She's still pretty /fun/." She flaps a hand in the air then at the question. "A dragonhealer here in Xanadu. Not sure why, but he got a bottle to the face. Maybe it just slipped." Hah. Yeah right. She kicks at the sands, shaking her head a little bit at him. "You better watch your back is all I say, and that ain't a threat. Just something I learned over the turns, you know? That's why I got Zaru now." Said dragon gives a comforting rumble from his spot, starting to look grumpy as his shady spot is now starting to be filled in by sunlight.

Eledri just snorts. Fun? He might look a little sulky. It's not as if his sister ever invites /him/ to the fun. He frowns at the brownrider, saying carefully, "I'll… keep that in mind." And then he quite deliberately turns back toward the weyr with a polite, if forced, "If you'll excuse me, I should return to work." And then he hurries off, giving both rider and dragon a dubious look. And maybe glancing around with more than a slight touch of paranoia now.

"You should join us next time we hang out on the beach," F'yr has to tell him before he runs out of there. "And yeah, you better keep that in mind." Paranoia is just Fy's thing, after all, but she doesn't look around as she flops back to the sand, that little good mood completely gone as she falls back into a thoughtful silence with her brown hovering by close and protective.

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