You want to Race...Friend?

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.

The hazy winter sky gives the afternoon a lazy feel to it, Triven is leaning on the wall in the center of the garden. His journal atop it open to a semi blank page as he seems to be drawing the different Koi in the water using them for inspiration for what ever drives his own artistic process.

Ah, those hazy winter skies; they summon the brave from the warmth of their homes to partake in the beauty and the white of the world - and here comes Risali now, booted feet carrying leather-clad hips Triven-ward. She's wearing a coat that clearly belongs to somebody else because it sits much too large on her tiny frame, hair pulled up off of her neck in a messy bun with stray locks framing her face in lose curls; there's a scarf wrapped around her neck and over her nose and mouth to keep out the chill, and as soon as those grey eyes lift to find the tattoo artist at work over his journal, the goldrider pauses. Breath rises before her in a puff of rolling fog despite the guard on her face, and there's a moment when it seems she might bolt, but she remains. One, two, three, and… "How are your ribs?" Risali doesn't come any closer, maintaining her distance in case she decides to give in to her urge to run.

Triven startles becuase he was lost in thought and work he glances around and sees the gold rider. Hmmm she looks normal, no running no crazy, he will shrug a shoulder and give her a frendly smile saying "bruised but nothing majorly damaged, you have a good elbow through Miss." He is tense, but will relax slowly as he puts his pen down saying "Are you alright? I hope you were not injured in our last encounter."

Definitely not crazy! Just Risa, sans all the proddy influence of one baby-hungry queen telling her to move and touch and smell everything. The compliment to her elbowing abilities has Risali drawing her shoulders up towards her face as he chin drops to her chest, a mannerism that might be embarrassment if the way she looks away is any indication of her mood (since the rest of her face is hidden), and then the junior queenrider finally breathes out, "Thanks. I've… had practice." Though she doesn't elaborate on that fact outside of simply stating it. The question for her own wellbeing has Risali looking back up, eyes on Triven as if the question startles her - and maybe it does, because there's a brief lapse into silence that's punctuated by a whisper of breath that's laughter, short-lived though it may be. Her? Injured? "I'm…" another moment, as if Risali is trying to decide on what words she does want to say before she settles on, "Not the one with bruised ribs." An exhale. "I'm sorry." And there she goes, taking small steps with short legs that dissipate some of distance between them with a hesitation in her gait. "You seemed to know what you were doing as well." Which might be a compliment. "Do you like fighting?"

Triven gives her a crooked grin saying "No one should like to fight, but if you must fight win..That is what my teacher drilled into me. When you are out on your own with no weyr or craft for protection you must learn to keep people at bay." He turns more to face her as she closes the distance saying "And you need not apologize for what you did, it was a natural thing for you and you felt distressed." He looks her over now and then adds sly grin "Do you like to fight? Because truth be told I am in need of a good sparing partner that can knock me flat on my hind end at times."

Nobody should like to fight? Risali's brows lift, then knit together at the statement, though she doesn't argue or concede with Triven; Risali merely shifts on booted feet, stilling when he turns to face her still a respectable distance away as she regards the tattoo artist in silence. She's listening, watching, allowing him to speak without interruption until he turns that sly grin in her direction and Risali pulls her scarf down from her face. Those full lips are pulled in for the question, and for a moment it seems like Risali might not respond before she looks towards the pond and brings her arms together across her chest. "I do," she breathes. "I like the tension in my body, and the way my heart pounds in anticipation; I like my moving without having to think, 'Do this,' or, 'Do that,' - I just do it. I can take all of my anger, or my joy, or my confusion - everything I'm feeling, everything that matters to me - and apply all of it to my fists. And then I fight for it. And - " As if catching herself speaking too much, Risali goes silent abruptly, rocking on her heels in the snow before she turns her head and tilts her chin to look at Triven again, pulling that scarf back up. "I'm not traditionally trained. Where is your teacher now?"

Triven watches her now, listening but also reading body language and how she is actually being honest. He smiles and will say to add on to the end of her sentence "And just let it flow until the world be comes clear again and less loud in your own mind?" He knows what she means, he looks alittle sad when she asks about his teacher saying "He passed on a while ago, he was old when he started with me so it wasn't sudden." He will turn slightly and pull out a piece of paper and stand straight taking just enough of a step to bridge the gap saying "I got in a groove and made this for you…"

Triven's addition has Risali smiling at him from around that scarf - it's evident in the corners of her eyes since her mouth is hidden, agreement coming in the dip of her head if the former wasn't enough. The change in the artist's expression has Risali going somber, breathing out, "I'm sorry to hear it," despite the fact that it sounds stupid and inadequate and the words are painfully generic; they're no less meant, the sentiment no less felt and true even if Risali is aware that there are just some situations where words… aren't enough. Triven turns, and Risali watches him move, coming no closer herself (not that she has to) as he reveals the piece of paper and parts with words that have grey eyes staring at the mystery in his hands. "For me?" comes curious, though Risali makes no move to grab it. She will wait until he either extends the offering to her, or displays the paper from where he stands.

Triven will in fact hand the paper to her though he does try to stay out of personal space as much as he can "Yeah, our little encounter got my mind flowing with more than just adrenaline." He is blushing now as he stands there arm extended holding the paper to her saying "Please take it? At least to show there are no hurt feelings." The lanky man will look away from her either in an attempt to hide his embarrassment or to just check his journal hasn't made a dive for the pond in his absence.

When Triven extends the paper to her, Risali takes it, eyes on the contents as she unfolds it to reveal - an intake of breath, an exhale of the words, "It's beautiful," and then Risali is looking up in just enough time to catch that blush. Brows knit together in confusion, her gaze lingering for just a moment before she drops grey eyes back to the paper and studies the drawing once more. Maybe she's being polite and giving Triven a moment to collect himself (or to look away and hide whatever's on his face ((or check to make sure his journal hasn't abandoned ship)), but Risali doesn't say anything for a stretch of time bordering at the cusp of awkward. Risali simply continues to trace the pattern presented with her eyes until finally, finally the goldrider looks up to the younger man again - and there it is, more confusion that knits her brow even as she pulls the paper a little closer to herself. Words. She hates words. She's so bad at them. "I - you really don't have to apologize to me. I - " A beat, a breath and a heartbeat before Risali continues with, "I'm Risali. I don't think I've every introduced myself properly - not that I was in the right state of mind, when we met but…" A hesitation, and then Risali is extending her hand to the younger man. "Gold Leirith's. Well met."

Triven has composed himself, socializing like this really is hard for the shy young man but professionalism that is different. He will look down at the offered hand and firmly shakes it saying "Triven, Tattooist and currently newest resident of the Weyr. A pleasure to meet you." He will smile and release her hand, he will retreat back to get his journal before motioning to the image in her hand "I must confess that making that was very therapeutic for me, I tend not to do well with people, but the art helps me connect." He will hold his journal like a safety shield, something that not only comforts but he can hide behind as well.

Triven isn't alone! Risali is not the world's best socialist either; truth be told, the people who dislike Risali vastly outweighs the people who do like Risali, and the goldrider is not unaware of this fact. "Welcome to Xanadu," she tells him, shaking his hand with a grip that's firm without being aggressive. There is strength in this one. Though she be but smol, she is FIERCE, and she's letting Triven go when the man retreats to retrieve his journal-shield. It's his next words that have Risali shifting again, grey eyes falling back onto the piece of paper in her hands as she delineates his work and then looks back to him. "I don't understand," she answers, honestly. Therapeutic? Helps him to connect? She elbowed him in the ribs; her brain does not compute. Still, Risali is looking back to the tattoo sketch before too long, asking, "What does it mean?" Does it mean anything? Art usually has significance, doesn't it? Risali is an artist herself, of a different kind; she realizes that most things have some meaning behind them - even if the meaning is nonsensical and full of whimsy.

Triven nods and grins, finding it easier to talk about the piece then probably human emotions that are at best tricky to understand. "It symbolizes that beauty can be fierce, though as I say it aloud I don't know if that is something you wish to be called. It is meant to show the balance between your outer self and the inner one that comes out when you become passionate about something." He is rambling now and will catch himself looking slightly away from the gold rider. Oh look fish, fish are nice and safe and don't ruin things with words..

Well, there’s definitely something that Risali can agree with: human emotions are the worst. She avoids dealing with them as often as she can - which is pretty often, because her life is wonderful, but complicated. So she listens to Triven’s take on what his piece of art means, and she looks up from the paper, back to the man who created the beauty therein, and she stares at him. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four. “Uhm,” she says intelligently, softly, because Risali isn’t sure what she should say, and then she is suddenly finding the fish very interesting too. “Thank you. It really is beautiful.” Because that’s the polite thing to do when you get a compliment, right? A shift of booted feet again, the give of snow beneath with a crunch of sound, and Risali struggles to find the right words again because she’s really bad at people. “Did it take you long?"

Triven shakes his head and says "not long once I find the path I need to go. It is like when you would find the right flow in a fighting combination it just feels right." He looks down at the fish now quiet but seeming more relaxed because not everything needs to be about words and talking, sometimes you can just be still and that is ok too. But he will use words because well peopling is hard "it would look good on your shoulder or outer leg, if you were to getting put on you."

Risali's eyes are still on the paper while she listens, executing a nod to register understanding before those eyes jump back to Triven when he breaks that momentary silence with more words. Brows knit together, Risali's lips draw in, and the goldrider seems at a momentary loss for a moment. "A tattoo?" she finally manages, and there's a rasp of air that leaves her lungs in what might have been laughter, but could just as easily have been a physical manifestation of I-have-no-idea-why-this-is-happening. Grey eyes finally leave Triven for that paper again, the goldrider shifting on booted feet once more as silence consumes and becomes them, lingering. "I've never thought about getting one," Risali finally manages, opting for honesty as she looks up and straight ahead. Don't mind her, she's just trying to think of things to say. "Do you do this for everybody you meet?" And here come those grey eyes, settling on Triven with muted humor (perhaps an attempt to change the topic without changing it completely). "Or just the ones who send you to the infirmary when you touch them?"

Triven thinks about the question for a moment, he weighs all options of what could be said and what might get him sent back to the infirmary. He isn't smooth like some of these guys he sees around here so he too will settle for the honest truth. "I draw when I meet people because that is how I come to understand them." He motions to the paper saying "but no I don't always give them to people, especially those that put me out of work for a few days." He will give her an awkward if not kind smile, he will move alittle so she could join him on the wall if she wanted to.

Drawing to understand people better. Risali's head cants to one side, much like a curious pup might do in silent inquisition, and then Risali's eyes are drawn back to the drawing once more. "But you've only met me twice." She doesn't understand, but that isn't important. What's important is when she looks back up and Triven is moving to yield space to Risali should she choose to take it; it's that awkward smile that Risali understands, that draws Risali's gaze back to the tattooist's face and into the space he's created for her. The space she doesn't take, because she is Risali, and Risali is the kind of person who's on guard until she's not. "Then why are you giving this to me, Triven?" Risali inquires, voice hushed, the words a mere whisper, as if saying them any louder might send the world about them into unpredictable chaos.

Triven shrugs he looks down at the fish, words, always words and feelings. He is quiet for a time, either searching for the right ones or quieting his own screaming urges to run and never look back. "Because I would like us to be friends, and I don't know any other way to express myself." He keeps looking down at the fish, he will hunch his shoulders as if to bracing for another impact.

Breath expels from Risali's lungs in a rush of air that might have been laughter, except that there's no distinct sound to it; it's short-lived, bordering on disbelief as those grey eyes jump back to the younger man watching the fish, fish who swim without the complications of words and feelings in their pond, untouched. "You want to be friends," comes Risali's voice slowly, as if she's not quite sure that Triven was speaking the common tongue when he spoke, "with me?" And there's that sound again - the maybe laughter, the definitely disbelief that leaves the tiny goldrider staring after hunched shoulders and a tattooist bracing for an impact that's not going to come - not physically anyway. "Why?" And the word is so incredulous; Risali is used to people wanting many things from her, but friendship is so few and far between that the woman genuinely doesn't know how to respond to an outright admittance like that. "That's rude," she says then, brows drawing in at her own words as she shifts those hips. "I'm just…" A beat, a breath, and Risali's squinting as if she can't quite see Triven. "Are you… are you okay?" It's the politest way she knows how to phrase the question - truly. "You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?"

Triven gives a little grin still looking at the fish, "No, I am of sound mind, if not body." He thinks more, if he could draw this it would be easier but no this is a battle of words and though he is under equipped he will try still. "because I like to think you could use one as much as I could." Yup just friendship, nothing more nothing less. He watches those fish in there safe little world, safe from things like questions, he has turned a healthy shade of pink now clearly he is no suited for this kind of stuff but at least he tried.

Triven thinks Risali could use a friend? Those grey eyes remain on Triven for one, two, three moments too long, and then the goldrider is pulling the scarf from her nose and her mouth with brows drawn in, her mouth set in a frown that's not unfriendly, but is certainly a warning of some kind - if the tattoo artist is smart enough to heed the signs (not that he has any way of knowing what those signs are). It's a full beat of that expression, of Risali trying to sort through thoughts and reason and figure out what is being said and how she should respond. "I'm not lonely," Risali offers carefully, lest Triven is acting on the assumption that Risali is a damsel in need of rescuing - even if that rescuing is from herself. She has D'lei and K'vir - her family - and that's more than enough for her. "But I'm…" A breath. She really hates these talking things. "Do you want to race?" she asks suddenly, because movement is something she can do, and it doesn't require thinking. "From here to… that tree over there?" She's indicating a tree along the perimeter. Go figure.

Triven waits as she says she isn't lonely he nods "I didn't think you would be people seem to be drawn…" Whatever else to be said is lost as she asks for a race, he looks at her to see if she is teasing with him. It is his turn to frown now as he tries to understand the meaning of it all, but when no other answers can be discerned he will look over at the target tree. This is an idea he can get behind, checking the distance and will nod and push off the wall saying "Sure, just say go" he has been coiled to run for a while now maybe he can calm down some of this energy.

People seem to be drawn? Grey eyes remain on Triven, watching the man as if she doesn't quite know what to think of what he's telling her, even if his words go unfinished, because has he met her? People generally walk away from meetings with her calling her names that are not flattering: harpy, harpy, HARPY. Risali can literally name on one hand all the people who regard her with affection (and aren't related by blood), but she doesn't try to correct Triven. She tries to change to topic. Because this isn't awkward at all, and there's a tension in her entire body that tells her to run. Triven comes down from the wall, and Risali's in motion, shifting her legs to chase the encroaching cold-inspired numb from them; she pulls her scarf from her face and tucks it into her jacket - a jacket that she removes and rests on the wall to reveal another jacket underneath (though this one is clearly tailored to her size). One stretch, reaching up over her head as she arches her spine, and then she's moving back, to stand beside the tattoo artists, eyes on the prize. "One," she breathes, sinking into a stance better suited for running. "Two," comes on an exhale, fog rises in front of her, and then - HEY, WAIT A MINUTE. Risali totally takes off running, and there's breathy laughter escaping her as she shouts, "THREE!" from over her shoulder, already on her way to the tree because she's a cheater. A leopard always stays true to her spots, after all.

Triven doesn't need to stretch he was watching the tree not the cheater, as she takes off he will wait till she says three. And bolts, he is someone one who runs alot and fast, his lithe form slips easily up to her as he sprints. He doesn't slow to keep pace instead presses forward, giving her a grin that says 'keep up', for this is something he can do. Running is just something his body is built for, could explain alot if a mind healer was about. But right now he is just running, all that awkward and pent up stuff is just unleashed as he hits is stride.

Risali is a runner too - a fighter, a jumper, a dancer, a woman of perpetual motion because handling a bow and throwing a punch are languages that Risali understands; languages that aren't complicated by the finer nuances of emotion until they are, and those emotions are easier to handle and easier still to communicate with motion. So Triven bolts, and catches up, and uses his advantage of longer legs to take the lead with a cheeky grin that tells her to keep up, that has the goldrider laughing even as she breathes out, "Cheater!" because Triven is clearly the cheater in this. But Risali presses on; she doesn't give up, she doesn't submit, she doesn't surrender. She slips into her own pace, hindered as it may be by the presence of snow, and she doesn't give up. Exhale, inhale, exhale - it's not even a struggle for her. She's certainly not pushing herself, content to lose if that's what the outcome of their race is to be.

Win, Lose? Who cares it is a race, Triven just runs, is he a cheater? Maybe, he is as he runs to get out all the weirdness that has been pent up since he met the gold rider. The snow is starting to slow him down as he finds a spot that is deeper than it looks. He will take a tumble but roll and come up loosing ground in the race if Risali avoids the bad patch. He laughs too even as he is covered in snow and still trying to run.

Risali does run around the patch, because she sees him go down into that tumble and roll back up, and now she's beside him because she's a cheater (or just observant) and she's reaching out to push him with more of that laughter because it's already established that she's a cheater. The tree is within sight, she can see it! So close, so close, so…! KARMA. Risali steps into a patch of snow that has other plans for her, foiling her victory as she wipes out, and eats it, and lands with a squeak of sound that's muffled by snow and then has Risali sitting up laughing harder now as she leans forward over her knees. Ah well, the race might be over for her (she's not stupid), but the FUN IS NOT! Hence why she's gathering up snow for a snowball as she stumbles to her feet. Better run, Triven! Or… keep running…?

Triven looks back and sees Riisali go down, there is a moment of concern till she sits up, and he is laughing, again runing for the tree. Wait what is that in her hand… Oh no she is a cheater, or at least someone who wants to keep having a good time. He is runing now, as he starts to try to zig zag away, no point in making it easier for her that it already might be.

Zig zagging! Definitely cheating, though it doesn't stop Risali from chucking her snowball with the hopes of hitting him with it. And then she's back on her feet, and she's running again even if it's futile because Triven is definitely going to reach that tree before her. And he either does, or he doesn't! Either way, she's coming up on the aforementioned tree and halting, leaning forward with another hiccup of laughter as she sinks down to her knees in the snow and grants herself a moment to catch the breath she lost in that mad-dash to relieve some of that awkward.

Triven makes it to the tree, he WON!!! And his prize one, fresh minted Risali made snow ball takes him full on the face as he turns to grin at her. He will sputter and lean against the tree, laughing as well. It is that laugh that comes from the bottom of the stomach that brings tears to his eyes as he is lost in the fit of joy and release of the emotions pent up from all this word nonsense. Finally someone else who doesn't need to fill the air with words but just likes to let things be.

It's true! Risali is a woman in motion that likes to remain in motion and sometimes has no choice but to do those word things, but she tries to keep those moments to sparingly tiny, inconsistent moments. But yeah, Triven gets a snowball in the face and Risali's laughing even harder because she has no tact and that is enough of a victory to her. Speaking of victory, somebody distinctly male is calling at her name and drawing her attention. Risali lifts her head in the direction of an oh-so-familiar voice (to her), and then she's pointing one slender digit at Triven around a smile. "Next time you won't be so lucky." And off she goes, jogging despite having just run to collect her previously discarded jacket and scarf, calling, "Coming!" to whoever it is that's hailing her, and waving to Triven as she disappears from the gardens. Yep. Welcome to Risali's world. This is how she rolls.

Triven grins nods and will wave at the gold rider. He will sink back down under the tree and just enjoy the garden more till his breath comes back and his legs stop protesting the impromptu race. He will keep his smile until it is his turn to leave the area and head back to work.

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License