Group on the Beach

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.

Orla nods her head with a hearty laugh. "I think that we should always have something to complain about if we need it." She replies with a grin. "It's just one of those things isn't it." Orla is sitting on the edge of the blanket that Rwylann is on, sat out on the beach chatting. Orla's sandals have been ditched on the sand and a satchel sits next to her; amazingly enough the crafter is wearing a summery dress, very much not in keeping with her usual demeanour. Near the gold rider is a basket of stuff. "But yes I think that a hat is definitely in order, I coerced one of the healers into trying to find me some bug repellent for this camp thing we're all getting dragged out on, I'm sure the southern insect life will just love my pale northern flesh."

Said basket has the telltale scent of baked goods rising from it. Rwylann's arms are wrapped around her knees, which have been pulled up to her chest. In her hands is a bottle fo wine. She shakes her head a bit, mildly amused. "Complaining feels good, but it doesn't get you anywhere." She looks to the candidate, an eyebrow raising. "Camp? What sort of camp?"

That weaver must be from someplace a lot colder if she's still in a summer-type dress. Chaitra meanders down the stairways from the north that lead to the meadow and the main complex, but it looks like he's just looking more for a chance to relax outside for a bit. Even if it's getting a bit cooler compared to what it normally is in the summer and spring. "Awww, bu' th'camp'll be /fun/!" Chaitra pipes up, having overheard the other candidate speaking. Ah ya, he'll just barge in on this conversation. "Some sor'a survival camp." He supplies for the other woman, whom he doesn't recognize off hand, but he does give the two ladies a small, simple bow. "Af'ernoon, ladies."

Myra makes her way over from the weyrling beach, shaking her head slowly. "Look, Ailath," she's muttering to herself, lost in her own little world, "I don't care who's looking at you, or who isn't. No, no, leave him alone, don't… Look… Forget it. Yes, I'm at the beach." she rambles on, with the occasional sigh squeezed between sentences. Something stops her though, and that's the sight of candidates - and goldrider - on the beach. She immediately blushes, sure she was overheard, but decides the best course of action is to get closer, and say hi. "Um, hello." she says with a small shrug, tilting her head at the basket curiously, above all people.

Orla glances round at Chaitra, a smile on her face as she nods her agreement to him. "Like he said." She replies. "I reckon we get thrown into the jungle and whoever crawls out alive gets to stand on the sands." She says with a wry grin. "I just hope I don't get eaten alive." She bobs her head towards Myra by way of a greeting before asking Chaitra. "How long do we have before we need to report in for our medicals?" She checks.

Rwylann scratches her nose as the two candidates explain. "I'd heard Xanadu had some very… different practices, but I did not expect that. What if the hatching begins while you are out there? And isn't it bad form to put your candidates in danger like that?" The goldrider shakes her head, but looks to Myra, dipping chin in greeting. "Ierne's duties to Xanadu. Would you like a cookie?" The last is punctuated by her holding up the basket. She seems to be including Chaitra in the offer.

"Aw, Eh don' think its nea'ly so bad as that." Chaitra says, staying standing, but reaching gladdly into the basket for a cookie with a thankful nod to the other. Myra is also given a friendly smile, over his shoulder. "Eh thin' they'll teach you - well… /us/ - s'me stuff, 'nd then watch o'er us as we go 'bout explorin' the forest." And he sounds positively /gleeful/ about this. He was a hunter before hand afterall, and he's been cooped up in the Weyr a good deal of late. "'Nd… uh… soon. Eh think." He doesn't sound entirely sure on that one.

Myra grins at the candidates, "Ah, survival camp! You're in for a fun old time." she notes, cheerfully cryptic. "It … builds character." she explains to Rwylann, "I went on it as a candidate, I did." her expression pales for a moment, but she shrugs it off. Well, she's being secretive, isn't she? Mustn't spoil it! The basket is noted again, at the offer of cookies, and she takes one. "Ah, don't mind if I do. Name's Myra, by the way." she adds, a brief introduction indeed.

Orla chuckles a little and shakes her head. "I think it's only for a little while, I'm looking forward to seeing what I can do out there, the trees and the like will be fascinating I'm sure. See what I can make." She seems to relish the idea of being out with the trees for some reason. A small blue firelizard pops out of between and starts to circle her head chirping away. "I think that's my alarm to tell us we need to be going to the infirmary for our medicals." She admits with a sigh. "It was very nice to meet you." She tells the goldrider as she pushes herself to her feet, smoothing her dress down before she picks up her sandals by their straps and lifts the satchel to sling over her shoulder again. A glance to Chaitra and a wave to Myra and Rwylann before she starts to head off, hopefully with Chaitra.

Rwylann tips her head to both candidates as they depart. "Good luck!" she calls after, before glancing to Myra with a small shake of the head. "I'm glad Benden never had such antics for their candidates." She sets down the basket once people have had their cookies, but in such a way that it seems welcoming should someone want more. "Rwylann. I'm the one who's gold is holed up in the Incubation Unit." She doesn't sound /entirely/ pleased about it. "At least some survive?" she murmurs, glancing after the departing candidates.

Chaitra chuckles as he waits for Orla to finish straightening herself out before he - like a gentleman - offers the other candidate his arm. "Nice t'meet you two. Eh'm Chaitra." He says as he starts walking back towards the main Weyr. "It was silly of you t'wear a dress, by th'way." He offers kindly to the other candidate.

Orla takes the offered arm, she's wearing her summer dress and some how the builder is feeling girly. "It's about the only thing I've got that's light enough for this heat." She replies to him, "I've got thicker stuff for going away though." She tells him as they depart.

Myra chuckles, and nods. "Oh, some survive, certainly. Wouldn't be much choice for the hatchlings if they didn't." And that's where she comes in, "I'm the greenrider of the two Weyrlingmasters," is her further introduction. "Ailath's her name." The woman seems a little tense when her lifemate comes up, though she tilts her head at the cookies for a distraction, "Good stuff. Are you a crafter?" she asks, curiously.

"Oh, right. I'd heard about that. Two Weyrlingmasters… I didn't think there was that large a clutch on the sands? Or is there something else going on here?" Seems Rwylann's had a fair number of Xanadu-unique experiences. "I stood a number of times before Auspiraeth found me. I was a Baker apprentice before I was Searched and by the time I Impressed… I was a Journeyman." She grins a little, "I think Ierne is missing my abilities right now. I'm wondering if the kitchens here would mind if I did some baking for them, to pass the time."

Myra shrugs slightly, and glances back towards the barracks. "Ah, it's not so bad. We do have a couple of transfer weyrlings, in addition to our current class, though, honestly, I'm not sure quite why we have two weyrlingmasters. Near as I can tell, the Weyrleader picked one person, and the Weyrwoman another." she smiles a little at that. "It's all I can do to keep Ailath from turning it into a competition…" she frowns. The next week will be critical, as proddy riders aren't known for making particularly wise decisions. Not that she's quite there yet, she just knows it's coming. Distraction! "Oh, Baker, excellent! I first came out to Xanadu as an apprentice, though my speciality was more savoury than sweet. My journeyman project was a spit roast with side dishes." she notes, with pride. "I miss it, sometimes, but Ailath and I do like to sit by the campfire together at the end of a long day, so I keep my hand in, as it were."

"I never got the hand of cooking," Rwylann admits, looking a bit sheepish. She takes a sip of the wine she's been holding, glancing out to the water. "Can never seem to balance the spices. So I stick with baking. Breads, cookies… cakes are my specialty." A specialty within a specialty. It happens. "Ah. My project was a wedding cake for one of the other Journeymen. It wasn't intended that way at first, but that's how it happened." She glances towards those barracks and comprehension dawns, "Ahh… Fairly nice location for the weyrlings. Right near a beach. Hope they appreciate it." A bit of humour, at least.

Myra chuckles, and glances to the weyrling part of the beach. "Ah, it's excellent for working on muscles, the water. Of course, it's a long hike for little dragons, from the barracks to the beach and back again. Keeps them exhausted in those early days." she notes, with a chuckle. The time where it's all eat, bathe, oil, sleep, eat… Still, 'little dragons' are still fairly large, can't be that much of a 'hike'. "Excellent place for flight-related lessons, too. Mounting seems easier when you're floating about level with your dragon's neck, and landings are considerably less dangerous there." she notes idly. But she's never really thought about it, Xanadu's all she's known since apprenticing here all those turns ago.

"Nevermind the view is nice," Rwylann adds with a bit of a chuckle. She takes another drink of the wine before leaning back, stretching out her legs from their previously more cramped position. "It's harder up north, I guess. Especially when it comes time to bathe." She shivers with the memory, "You either come to like cold water, or you hate it. I, personally, hated it."

Myra chuckles, and glances out to the water, "Ah, it can get chilly in the winter," though perhaps a Xanadu definition of 'chilly' differs slightly from those up north. "Heading that way now." she notes, with a glance to the sky. "I'll need to get out my jacket again before long." she smiles at some secret joke, then gazes out to sea. "Ailath'll be pleased, we do the campfire thing a lot more in the winter. Well, if we can. It's hard to have a campfire if it's raining." she notes, with a chuckle.

"Ohh, yes. They told me it gets very rainy here. That's worse than snow, I think." Snow at least will just stay put on the ground once it's there. Rain makes thinks muddy and icky and just plain gross. "I think I'll be spending a lot more time indoors once that time comes." Unless she and Auspiraeth are sent home sooner. "I think it wouldn't be as bad if I'd wear lighter clothes," like that candidate was, "but I feel awkward in them, to be honest."

Myra wrinkles up her nose, and plucks at her own baggy clothes. Truth be told, it's about time for her to replace her wardrobe, she's just never managed to get around to it. She used to be plumper, when she worked as a chef, and it shows - the clothes she's wearing were loose even then. "Light clothes don't have to be revealing." she comments, idly. "Though I think these need to be taken in a teensy bit." she adds, with a sheepish shrug. "Y'know, I won some marks as a chef," she then whispers, "gambling," as if it's some great sin, and then continues, "and I never spent them? No time." Plus, there's the whole 'going to another weyr' thing. Funny, Myra doesn't seem to go anywhere, except when her duties require it, such as teaching weyrlings to between. Interesting…

There's a bit of a smirk and Rwylann gets to her feet, stretching as she corks the wine bottle. She's a wee bit tipsy, but not too much so. "No, but I feel safer in my thicker, layered clothing. It's like a shield that keeps me safe." From those evil prying eyes. "But perhaps I ought to get some more weather-appropriate clothes while I'm here. I've little else to do."

Myra glances up, and shakes her head, "I'm not sure why I'm hanging onto these clothes, to be honest. All they've been through… They were /sneezed/ on by a dragon, you know? Countless cooking messes, messy candidate chores, they only escaped weyrlinghood because of the uniform we had to wear!" she shakes her head, and glances back to the Weyr. "But, I was wearing these when I was promoted, when I was searched, the day of the hatching," though not when she impressed, obviously. "And the day I was promoted to joint weyrlingmaster." She makes it sound like she's only got one set of clothes, which is actually far from the truth. She just happens to wear these a lot. "Ailath, she, well, she thinks I'm /fine/, my clothes are /fine/, but she…" she shrugs. "I need new clothes." Though now might /not/ be the best time to get them, what with Ailath close to glowing and all. "But, I hate getting new clothes." she wrinkles up her nose and grimaces.

Rwylann makes a face at the mention of the sneezing. Ew. Kitchen messes she can completely understand. "I can't disagree with you there. I went to that Weaver Gather. It was… overwhelming, to say the least." She scoops up the basket. "Auspiraeth wants me with her for the next test the dragonhealers are doing, so I best be going."

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