Nyvex is Searched!

Xanadu Weyr - Observation Level
Dark blue seats form a semi-circle around the sands below, the lowest row separated from the multicolored red and white sands by merely a railing. The seats climb upwards, each row a bit higher than the previous, and they are broken up into sections by three sets of staircases. Between the first and second section, a glass wall descends to separate the observers from the heat of the sands. Air is kept in motion through a set of fans, and so these seats are quieter and cooler than the rest… though the noise and heat of the sands is still present.
Lights are evenly spaced along the outer wall, lighting the seats and the sands easily, though they tend to be dimmed unless a major event is taking place. A large balcony overhead connects to the glass wall. Vents for cooling run along the bottom of it, and the ledge provides a place for observers of the draconic kind to watch without obstructing the view for others.
The sand below is variegated in hue, individual grains of red and white that have a pinkish hue when seen from across the circle of the hatching grounds but - up close over that railing - are clearly two varieties mingled.

Visits back home are always interesting. Especially for Nyvex who hasn't been back to Xanadu in a the turns since he left to join the Harper's craft. Then when he got positioned at Monaco Bay the opportunity to come home just didn't exist. However, it is a special occasion for his Mother. As it is her turn day and the extremely tall blond Harper is a total mama's boy. Of course he had to come home for her. Especially after being away for so long. He was always a tall young man but he's grown at least a foot since he left the area. And if you're going to come back home, you have to check out the infamous singing duo of dragons. Even if he wasn't a music obsessed Harper. The chance to come check out the newest clutch of eggs is too nice to miss out on. The weather today is as it usually is at Xanadu, pretty beautiful. He's dressed in very simple travel clothes. With his guitar case slung over his shoulder. As his tall blond head pops up the stairs to the observation level to come check out the sands. His bright green eyes taking in the familiar sands with the same childlife awe he had the first time he saw them.

IT'S A TRAP, NYVEX. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!! Or don't. Xermiltoth is vacant from the sands, but the boxily built, mustard-yellow, wonkily-knobbed Leirith is there for all seeking eyes to see. She's sitting (not so) pretty in gore-painted sands, bathed in the blood of her ENEMIES (by which we mean, of course, those unlucky herdbeasts Xerms dragged back for her at some point) with whorls of viscera scouring up dripping maws. She would look fierce if she was any other dragon. But she's not. She's not any other dragon; she's just… Leirith. And Risali, whose hair has been pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head, who is occupying one chair with her jacket draped over the back, feet pressed into the seat before her, slight body sinking downward while thighs are utilized to prop up a document stack, is just Risali. Sans her knot. That's not wholly important except that she's sans any evidence of being who she'd otherwise be known to be, and maybe there's a reason for that. Again, unimportant; the important part is thatt Nyvex ascends those (tricksy, or so Leirith would have you believe) stairs and grey eyes come up to alight upon blonde hair and guitar toting shoulders. She watches him watch the sands for a long moment, and then she clears her throat, gaze dropping back to that stack as she applies pen to paper and writes. "Do you play?" A beat. "Are you here to play for them?" The eggs, she means. WHAT? It's not a stupid question. He could be here running an errand for somebody who does.

That's how they lure you in. They tell you about how fascinating the singing dragons are. Walk in expecting sunshine, rainbows and singing dragons. And then when you walk in, the first thing you spot is a dragon dripping in her latest meal. The tall Harper is definitely not expecting to see that. And while he doesn't know that Leirith isn't the fiercest of all of Perns dragons. It is a little intimidating at first glance. Can those bright green eyes actually get any bigger in his head? Not everyone really gets to watch the Dragons eat, even Weyr folk don't tend to go down to the feeding pens. And his father passed away before he really got exposed to that aspect of his Bronze lifemate before he went in between. So this is kind of a first for him. He isn't afraid at least. It is just… interesting to him. When the woman spekas up, he bats his blond lashes and blinks. "Oh. I um. Sorry. Didn't see you there." He offers up a flustered smile for her. In truth, he would not know Risali from anyone else in the Weyr. He has been gone for turns. "Yes. I do play." He clears his throat and stands tall now. All you have to do is talk about music and his confidence comes back in spades. "I had never really thought about it. I mean, I would love to. It's kind of an honour for anyone to get to perform for such a special audience. And the best part, they are a captive audience. So if i'm absolutely terrible. They can't run away." He has jokes and a good spirit. "Just wouldn't know how to go about asking for permission. Or is it one of those moments in life where you just jump right in and ask for permission later. I've done that a few times in my life. Sometimes you have to when you're trying to make a name for yourself as a musician. Even with the Harper knot, it doesn't always get you in the doors. You have to fight for every performance until you make it big." He lifts a hand up and runs his fingers through his blond hair, pushing it back. "Plus, I wouldn't want to interrupt lunch. Dragons may not eat people, but their are always exceptions. She may not like my style." Speaking of the Gold.

Perhaps Risali is a dichotomy of all that Nyvex is or might yet be. He's fair haired, she's dark. His eyes are verdant green and Risali's are the grey of stormclouds rolling in from sea. There's a hint of mischief in the sudden upward tilt of Risali's lips, in the way she stills and lifts her chin to revert her gaze back to Nyvex when he speaks. And it's in that transition, in that listening, that one of Risali's arms comes around the backing of her chair to hang limply against its back, her upper torso turned toward the harper in a physical representation of her interest in his words until she's tilting her head back and laughing. "Well," comes after a moment, breathed from around a smile that pulls even as she attempts to form the shape of words, "I think in this case, you're right. Inserting yourself on the sands without permission might land you as a legend, but probably not for the reason you were hoping." But still, he would be a legend. A very dead legend. For very dead reasons. Irrelevant; relevant is that as Risali imparts the wisdom of Dam-On-The-Sands Do and Do Nots, there's a horrendously audible THUD that comes rattling against that glass partition separating stadium seating from arena sands — separating them from that gore spattered dragon and all of her delicate, freshly clutched eggs. Risali doesn't look at all phased by the fact that there, against the glass, is one massive, golden head with whirling blue eyes and a smear of blood some poor, unfortunate drudge is going to find themselves tasked with the removal of later today. No, Risa merely calls attention to that which calls attention to itself (and just fine, thank you very much) by grasping her pen in two fingers and tilting the business end towards where her dragon has emerged like some living, waking nightmare. FROM THE DEEPS. Or the sands. Whatever. LISTEN. SHE LOOKS TERRIFYING. … Or, maybe she would. If she were any other dragon. But she's not. She's not any other dragon. She's just… Leirith. Mostly she just looks obnoxiously idiotic, and pleased about it. "Well, there she is," comes pitched low, soft with ill-concealed amusement. "The one you need to ask. So go on, then. Ask her."

Ny is the spitting image of his father and his father before him. The males of his line all seemed to have possessed those big green eyes and that way too tall blond head of hair. He is not deterred by the dark haired woman's mischievous curl. In fact he is only intrigued more by her words. "Well I wasn't going to go on the sands. My poor mum would have keeled over dead if she found out that I met my end by sneaking onto the sands." He smirks. "I want to be famous but not that famous. Would really put a tarnish on my family name and that's not my style." However, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when there is a thud. "Shards." Yeah, check for pee spots in those shorts. He laughs nervously and places his hand upon his chest. You know those, nervous laughs that you get when you just finish a haunted house. That kind of laugh. He takes a better look at the Gold and her expression. Well behind all of the afternoon meal, she isn't scary after all. Risali's words get a look from the harper. "Yes, there she is." He offers a polite but slightly nervous bow. He was so confident like 30 seconds ago. All of that bravado comes back after he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He is a performer. This is just another stage. When he speaks up again, he is all professional. "Afternoon, Leirith. I heard tale of the wonderful performance that you and your mate put on when welcoming your splendid new clutch to the world. It would be a great honour to me, if I could entertain yourself and your wonderful little ones with a song or two." Music is his passion, and even if you're faced with a slightly intimidating audience, a true artist would never turn down a chance to perform. "I am not like most Harpers. I don't play just our music of Pern. I study the archives and learn music from the past. If you would allow me to share one of my favorites?"

"Well," Risali says around another hint of mischief, another soft huff of laughter, "we wouldn't want that." His mother to keel over, she means. Though at the rate this scene is going, Nyvex might be dead even precluding the mischief of sand-sneaking — courtesy of Leirith. And that Queen does watch, takes in that polite bow aimed for her graceless resplendence and that massive head dips in a return bow of her own — amused rather than polite, eyes whirling faster and faster, jaw going lax enough to part as she bobbobbobs her head in what can only be a physical representation of laughter. She doesn't actually laugh, mind you — at least, not in any way that might be discernible from a horridly pitchy (COVER THINE EARS, O YE OF HARPER TRAINING) warble. Risali, in an attempt to be somewhat polite herself, waits for Nyvex to finish his request before her pen goes sailing and THUNKS with CONCERNING ACCURACY against the glass where Leirith presses. "Stop it. You're scaring him." The pen clatters uselessly to the floor, and the gold reels backwards tossing her head in giddy play before the bombastic, effervescent, too-damn-loud voice thrums into existence against the heady beat of a techno-beat house party. « AHAHAHAHAHAHA. NONSENSE, MINION. LOOK AT HIM! HE IS BADASS — UNLIKE YOU, WHO LOOKS ASTONISHINGLY DISAPPOINTING TODAY. » Yeah, Nyvex. Unless you're closed off to the idea of every brain cell being rattled and melted by that too-loud mindvoice, the one that imparts itself with indiscriminate glee upon any close (and receptive) enough to hear her, you're hearing all of this too. "Don't be jealous, Leirith. Disappointment looks good on me." DOES IT? DOES IT THOUGH? Either way, Risali's eyes are jumping back to Nyvex, dancing with mirth as she lets her feet drop to the floor and leans forward against the stack still stationed in her lap. She doesn't speak, however. It's Leirith that booms with an ebullient, « NOBODY HAS EVER SUNG FOR ME BEFORE! NOT EVEN MY FRIENDS. … WHICH MIGHT BE BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS. AHAHAHAHAHA. I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO HEAR YOUR SONG, MINION. SO WOULD MY CHILDREN, IF THEY COULD HEAR. MAYBE THEY CAN HEAR. MINION! DO YOU THINK THEY CAN HEAR? YOU'RE RIGHT, IT DOESN'T MATTER. SERENADE ME, SINGY-ONE. » Listen. It's lies. Risali was also a harper before she landed herself on gold, but notice that the queenrider does nothing to remedy that knowledge in the face of her lifemate's ostentatiousness.

Risali's tossing of the pen is almost as surprising as Leirith's thumping on the glass. He turns back to her wide eyed and completely surprised. His jaw falls slack a bit though as he watches the interaction between the two. His interaction with T'kel and Szikrath are nothing like this. The bronze is still really young. So this is rather interesting to watch. The blasting in his head is a bit of a shock though. Just because he's definitely not used to that. Takes him a moment to to process the whole thing and adjust to that booming voice in his head. "They must be too intimidated to perform before musical royalty." It's a lot easier to turn on the charm once he's not as freightened out of his mind. The question that is asked of him. Even if rhetorical gets responded to. "We sing to our young in the womb. And dragons have way more advanced hearing and senses. So I imagine they could." He smiles to the dragon and then quickly pulls out his instrument. You don't make special audiences wait, especially when they dragon might change her mind at any moment. Everyone has heard stories of broody clutch mothers, even if he has no idea if they are true or not. Best not test any of those theories. He grabs his guitar and he says, "This is a song that really holds dear place in my heart. It was the first song I learned from the archives. The first song I learned to play on the guitar. From a group that I have fallen in love with." He stands tall and confident. He is a trained Harper and this is what they do, they perform. It also really showcases the guitar which he is extremely proficient in playing. The Harper starts to project his voice out for the very special audience of Leirith, Risali and her newly clutched still hardening eggs. He sings out a well practiced rendition of the Beatles 'Blackbird'.

And while Leirith thrums laughter for Nyvex's assessment (well-intentioned, friendly, teeming with cheer), both the queen and Risali fall silent as the Harper pulls forth his instrument of choice and thumbs chords into melody. One, two, three — that's as long as it takes for Risali's eyes to close, for the once-Harper to lose herself in Nyvex's music with fingers that tap in silent keep of the beat against her thigh. Leirith, too holds her peace — until she does not. Suddenly she's the underscore of a drumbeat to his music, and Risali? Well, Risali hums the harmony in those parts her trained ear can catch tone before he's even sung it. And when the song is over, when Nyvex has finished his performance, only then does Risali open her eyes. Quiet. Quiet greets him, the hush of a captivated crowd before Risali is clapping and getting to her feet to do it, shifting stacks to the seat alongside where she was and catcalling. Leirith joins the cacophony of noise, a deafening crash of drums and snares that hold, suddenly, the faintest hint of spun sugar and funnel cake (which, of course, are hard to place on Pern, but are no less prominent in the gold's mind). And now Risali is bowing at the waist, tucking her hand against her hip as she rights herself and smiles a smile wide enough to bare her teeth, to scrunch her nose and her eyes. "Well done," she breathes. And there, in that moment, as that smile dims and grey eyes seek the whirling faucets of her lifemate, Leirith looks back. Something quiet passes between them, something that hits the lines in Risali's expression and turns them back to mischievous deviance as she turns instead to her jacket and reaches into one inner pocket. Whatever she grabs as held behind her back as she walks, long (well, for her, though she is quite short and incapable of 'long'), contemplative strides carrying her across the distance until she stands before him. Her chin tilts up, those eyes rise to take in his height and there's a soft, "Tsk," to denote her (faux) disappointment that he's, "another tall one." Ah, well. Laughter comes to the corner of her lips again, quirking as she breathes, "A tip for the Harper?" And now she produces that white knot from behind her back, holding it up for Nyvex to see. Before he can take it (if he's of a mind too accept), she's curling her fingers around it and tucking it back to her chest. "You can continue your craft, though you will have lessons, and our only rule about alcohol is that you don't partake in enough to get drunk. You can even," a beat, two, three, "well. Maybe I'll let the Weyrlingmaster and his Assistants tell you that part. But first," Risali extends her hand again, unfurls fingers from that knot she holds in that space between them, "You have to tell me your name, and then you have to say, 'Yes.'" « BUT NO PRESSURE. YOU'LL ONLY STOP BEING A BADASS IF YOU DECLINE. » Is that laughter? … Yes. Risali fights against her own. Just because her lifemate lacks dignity, it doesn't mean the both have to. And hey, Leirith's words are never cruel. She's always happy; it's hard to be mad about it.

And those reactions are exactly why Nyvex loves being a Harper. He loves performing and he loves when people who probably never even heard the song he sings can get lost in the beat. It also is admirable that Risali can pick up on to the song so easily. However he had no idea that the young woman had Harper training in her background. He even smiles at Leirith and her performance. "Thank you." And then the dark haired woman with those stormy grey eyes is walking up and sizing him up. He's not exactly certain why, that mischievous look upon her face doesn't exactly give away any answers. She's a wiley one and her gold lifemate is just as enigmatic to him. He is actually familiar with spun sugar and funnel cake from Monaco Bay. Having tasted fairy floss cotton candy there recently. Those carnival treats available at the resort. He keeps his smile upon his face. The offer of a tip gets him almost politely declining before he realizes what it even is. Silence. His big green eyes staying wide. That's a lot to take in. The offer is there and he is just shocked. She asks him a question and he replies very quickly. "Nyvex." Okay he is still breathing. "Yes. How could I disappoint a Queen on her own sands. I would never not want to be a badass, I don't think many get that title easily." He appreciates Leirith's personality and Risali's it seems. "I am truly honored. And I definitely appreciate that I can still study my craft." He's a little gobsmacked and super excited.

AHHH, good old Monaco Bay. FULL OF DELICIOUS AND FUN THINGS THAT LEIRITH IS NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT JEALOUS OF (WHEN ARE WE GETTING OUR OWN RESORT APPROVED, RISALI? THIS IS WHY YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT!!!). Ahem. So back to what's important: white-knots, and the accepting of them. "Hi, Nyvex," comes Risali's reply, hushed from around another smile, "I'm Risali, and that obnoxious abomination representing dragonkind is my Leirith." The gold BOOMS laughter, giddy and unrepentant despite the insults slung her way. Risali catches one of his hands at the wrist, careful to keep him from dropping his instrument before she lays that knot in his palm and curls his fingers around it beneath the press of her own. "Welcome to Xanadu Weyr." And then just like that, the tiny weyrwoman is letting go, is hooking her arm through Nyvex's near the elbow and tugging him back towards the stairs for a sudden departure. "I'll walk you to the barracks," not that they're far from here, "and the staff will let you know what happens next." And so she does, pulling him down along corridors, delivering him into capable hands, and then retreating back to grab her paperwork and settle back in while Nyvex gets a crash course on how things run at Xanadu Weyr.

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