Potential Friends


Lorayit.jpg Rocio.jpg

Date: Sept. 20, 2010
Location: Lakeshore, EW
Synopsis: Rio trips and injures her foot carrying a sack. Lo is all kinds of helpful. The two meet for the first time.
Rating: PG
Logger: Lorayit

The evening is a warm one, giving way to the Weyr's inhabitants meandering about as they start retiring towards their respective places for the night. It would seem like Lorayit is the exception, for the dirty blonde gardener is here on the lake's shore path rather than elsewhere, his blue eyes scanning the lake rather than those one or two left out here passing by him. Hands rest in his trouser pockets, and there's an air of tired calm about him as he walks along in a gait that suggests he has all the time in Pern to do so.

A quicker pace is set by the Weyrling, as she heads through the bottleneck. Swift forward motion marks her as not-child, though her stature might suggest she is one. But there's the downside of walking so quickly. When she sidesteps a slower group of drudges, hauling sacks toward the area from where Rio departs, Rio manages to stub her toe. The oath spoken is almost sotto voice, but she does come to a complete and full stop, shoulders bracing against the side of the canyon wall, while she lifts up a foot and tilts her veiled head down to remove her shoe and inspect the damage.

Lo spots the weyrling with the sacks before the collision happens, the tall man stopping briefly in his tracks before he swiftly heads her way. A slight frown offsetting otherwise a friendly face, he reaches her by the time the oath was spoken and pauses briefly before takes a step forward to equally inspect her foot. "Whoa there!" he calls, throwing a carefully concerned grin at her as his gaze takes in her veil, then the sacks she was carrying. "Need help with any of that? You alright there?" and he gestures with a finger towards the foot she inspects, nearly crouching to get a better look. So friendly, isn't he?

"All's well. I just…Stubbed my toe, thank you." Crom's slow accent, not much affected by the southern drawl, precedes the brown regard that turns up toward the tall man, with a nod. "Thank you. Just moving too quickly. She's asleep, so I have to hurry. My dragon has a knack for waking up," Rio's eyes crinkle somewhat, "Just when I am at my farthest distance from her, for the day." But she wriggles her toe and winces, visibly. The foot isn't bleeding, but there's already a bit of a red spot, going to be a bruise on the toe and spreading into the instep a little.

"Well now," and Lorayit leans forward to inspect what he could see of her toe before straightening and sending the weyrling a gentle enough smile. "That don't look too bad, little lady," he drawls, his own Reachian accent mixed with something familiarly Bitran. "But I bet you shouldn't be carryin' those there while you're favoring that toe. Let me offer my assistance," and like a countryside gentleman, the Weyr gardener offers the woman his arm in a pose, not looking the least offended in whether she takes it or not. "I have a salve back at my cot that does wonders, but I reckon you weyrfolk got your own remedies."

"Alright," the veil hides Rio's smile, as she leans down and picks up the sack and slings it across Lorayit's proffered arm, with a quirky sidelong look that might be interpreted as playful, at worst, "Thank you. A gent. You're new here?" She will carefully fit her shoe back on, with some effort and a great deal of care, before she'll suffer to try to put her weight back on that foot, "And I try to avoid infirmaries and all their products at great cost, but I appreciate the offer." She's not going back to anyone's cot with them, thanks.

It's with easy grace that Lorayit's expression never slips when Rio slings the sack over his offered arm, and the man takes it up without a beat. Sack hanging heavily over one shoulder, "Not a huge patron of infirmaries, myself," he notes on her decline, his crooked smile in place as he moves to the side of her and watches her with her foot. "Salve's not entirely from them, though." To each his own, his tone seems to say, and he'll hang back once the weyrling is able to start walking. He then addresses her earlier words with a wry, "Don't have many gents here to be asking?" with amusement in his drawl.

"Oh, there's enough." Rio returns, merry enough though her limp is distinct here at first. She does have to pause and rest for a few seconds, with a glance over at her new companion, "You're not from here. But I can't place your accent, traveller. Where from do you hail?" Quizzical arch of one brow lightens the brown of that one eye, to showcase amber highlights.

Lo laughs at that, though his long leg strides become less so when the other has to pause. Wryly in her direction, "You know, I /do/ have a free arm you could lean on," he notes, hitching up that arm in question in case Rio needs a hand. Lorayit's all kinds of helpful. Blue eyes studying the veiled woman's eyes since that's all he could really see, "A born'n'raised Reachian, miss," he drawls, tipping his head briefly in her direction for her question. It does explain the majority of his accent, just not the other quirk there. "But I've been a Southern resident for turns now," he adds casually. "Southern Hold, to be exact. Been one of their farmers." Eyes dropping to that veil, "You're not from here either," he notes then with some easiness. "Though you say you got yourself a dragon?"

"Have you a name to go with your free arm? I don't make it a habit to link arms with strangers." Just strange men who wear decorations in their hair, who are named Neythan. "So you went from High Reaches to Southern?" Rio lets that question linger with a significant silence, before she bobs her head. "Crom. And yes, I impressed out of Kaseth's clutch." Rio's Weyrling knot is usually hidden under the veils she wears, and she makes no bother to show it off.

"A weyrling," Lorayit muses on that, the word coming rather familiar despite his holder background. "I recall there being two hatchings here, is that right? I had a friend attend both while during his brief stay here, and he told me all about it. Crom." He seems to taste that word, nodding a bit and choosing to say nothing on the place. For now. "Free arms don't always come with names, now," he seems to tease her, his arm staying held out all the same. "But, they call me Lo. You can do the same. I tend the gardens here." A brow lifting and falling, "So does this mean I get to have a name so I don't have to make a habit of escorting pretty weyrling strangers like yourself around?" He looks so hopeful at least, even though the tease never leaves his voice. Her interest in his origins get a light-hearted shrug. "Oh, I've been around, here and there," he lets that linger as well, waving his free arm about for emphasis. "Traveling with some traders." He seems to think that's explanation enough.

"They? Which amorphous 'they' do we speak of?" She doesn't talk like a miner's daughter, this one. Elegance marks her words, her diction, and yet the Crom dialect is worn proudly, "Rio." That might mark her as one of the two who Impressed gold, or confirm any suspicions he'd have had since she mentioned Crom. Golds tend to be news, and those who see to them, known. "But you don't know if I'm pretty, flatterer; You can see only a few handspans of what I look like. I could be burned and scarred beyond words, you know. Such banter and flattery might inflict more hurt than help, you know." She will, then, secure her balance better, with the fingers of her vanbraced arm, looped around Lorayit's forearm.

"Rio," Lo tries to give her a small bow, but with a sack making his posture awkward, it doesn't do it any justice. "Rio. One of the ones that Impressed one of the queens?" He's certainly heard, his sources pretty much pristine in information, and he merely gives her a little smirk to her first. He addresses the latter, eyes regarding her own before dropping to that veil covering the rest of her face. "I am a flatterer," he admits openly without apology, "but the rest of you would matter little to my compliment, with those eyes of yours." Okay, he's probably laying it on thick, but the gardener's so casual about it that one could take that in whatever way they choose. His tone dropping to something a little more genuine, "Seen a lot in my turns from the little cothold I called home, Rio," he admits with an incline of his head towards her. "I doubt nothing more could shock me further." Blue eyes flick to that veil and whatever is hidden behind it before pointedly meeting her eyes as they walked along.

"Yes sir. Eovarjath. Kaseth's daughter. Very pale, grey wings." Rio volunteers, with perhaps the slightest of sappiness in there. But she'll straighten somewhat and try, perhaps unconsciously, to steady her gait at his appraisal of her. "Scars, bad ones. Bad enough that I don't want to look at them, or be reminded. The veils… Much nicer. And when Eovarijath is with me, all eyes are on her, which suits me just fine." She's been formulating a plan… A gruesome one… That might someday let her take off her vanbrace. "But they left me my eyes, yes." Soft-words, perhaps spoken with a smile. "I can see."

Lorayit's amusement has lessened to something more companionable now as Rio talks, keeping his steps slow so that the other could keep up. "Wish I was there to see it," he remarks, shaking his head as he casts a long glance about them. "Not everyday you hear about two hatchings happening so close together like that. How's your family taking it? Them being related to a goldrider now and all that?" As to scars, that gets his attention - or the veil does, again. "You are far too hard on yourself," he notes a bit quietly, "but I can understand. Whoever did that to you…." because it clearly had to have been an injury, the way she says it, "I trust they, ahh, won't be doing it such things to another anytime soon?"

"I have no contact with my family. Should they hear, I'm sure that they will be delighted. Someday… I will go visit them." And Lord Crom can just be damned and argue with a full grown gold dragon, if he wants to make an issue of it. But to the man's second question, Rio doesn't answer right away. When she does, it's considering, "I… Don't think they'd have reason to, again. I hope not."

"A shame," Lo answers on her not having contact with her family, his gaze lifting off of her. "I think you really should. Even I…." he pauses, a thoughtful frown showing up for a short moment before it smooths out and he continues. "Well, congrats, all the same," he gives her instead, not following up on that last train of words and the man acts as if the pause had never happened. "So is this what they have you doing?" His shoulder hitches up, the sack moving with it. "Carrying this at a time where you could injure yourself?" His smile is back just as easy along with his mild teasing. To her last, there's a light silence as he regards Rio with an interest that he does not translate into words. For the moment, he does not pry, but it's clear that the man may pry should another time offers itself.

"Even you what?" Rio picks up on that hesitancy, and slants a dark-eyed regard up at the tall man. "Thank you. But I did hear you. And they have me doing much. I'm helping out another Weyrling right now. Or, rather, you are. That was due a few hours ago. I might be able to make some excuses." Rio blinks deliberately, as if to hint as to what advantage she might have, that the bronzerider might not, for making excuses.

Rio catches that short change, and Lorayit's meeting that dark-eyed regard with careful non-chalance. It takes his about a breath's moment before answering. "Well, got family myself I haven't seen in a long time," he admits then, his smile slipping just a little. "Tried sending letters for awhile, up until the last couple of turns. Wonder what they been getting up to. Can't exactly go back there, right now." Not telling why, either, for the gardener moves on to her next words. "You could tell them I bumped pretty hard into you and got you delayed with that foot of yours," he offers an excuse, because he's helpful like that it seems. "Or, if they really got issue, send them on to me. I'll smooth everything out in a blink," he says with only too much confidence. "Least I could do for a potential friend, yes?" he adds with a wink.

"Ah. Can't have too many potential friends. Much better than potential enemies." And Rio is amazed, even for someone who has been through what she has been through, at how /many/ potential friends she has developed since impressing a gold dragon. "I suspect I can handle it. Eovarijath was not looking for a wilting flower, out on the Sands." That's as much as Rio will toot her own horn, "But thank you. You have been gracious. I took you away from what task then, Lo?"

"Enemies come and go, you see," Lorayit says on that particular topic, giving her a little smirk that seems to be a bit more than what it should be. "Real friends always stick around. I hope to make a few, here. Depending on how long I stay." It's Rio's second that gets a long glance from him, lips twitching into low laughter at that. "Don't know you, miss, but I'd not call you a wilting flower faster than I would call a Bitran cheap." Beat. "My tasks are done for the day, not to worry," he assures her, hand patting the sack he carries. "Was heading on out to the fields, in fact. Like to just be out there, where natural things grow, you know?" His voice almost takes on a dreamy quality to his voice, faint at the most.

"There is a peace in a place devoid of others." Rio takes that tact, with an equal sincerity, before she'll finally begin to place her feet about evenly on the path, though she attends her footsteps. "I've never been to Bitra." Rio murmurs, "Would you recommend it?" Once more, her regard flicks up, perhaps to read his features, more than simply ask the question. Her fingers curl around his arm a bit firmer, so that he can be the one leading the way for that instant.

Seeming easy to lead when Rio's fingers curl around his arm more, "Best place in the Weyr as far as I'm concerned," Lo answers on that place devoid of others, nodding meaningfully in her direction. "I'm still getting used to Weyrlife, so having to live in such cramped quarters gets to me." Lo might think the sudden question about Bitra odd, but he doesn't seem to show it. He meets her eyes in that pause, seeming to consider both her words and his own before finally answering. Sniffling, "Not too bad a place," he says, looking away as he says it with a small amount of indifference. "Been there only the once. Interesting folks there. Not much good farming land." He makes the latter seem more important than the other assessments, too. "You like to gamble, or bet on the races?" he asks then.

"Don't bet. Not enough marks to my name, to squander them. I hear leathers are expensive, and that's coming up, and my Eovarijath will grow through more sets than the others." She shakes her head, though. "I just like the accent. Bitra. Could sit and listen to a Bitran talk all day. It's a quirky and clever accent, that one. Southern, it's like Crom. Reaches, and you all sound like you've spent too much time with the Harper. Benden too. But Bitra… They don't care. It's a great accent, all their own."

Ahh. Lo's accent detected, there's low laughter as the man steals an appraising look at her. "Not bad," he notes, nodding a few times. "Not bad at all. Only two others had noticed since I've been down here." That could be taken as cryptic, but the gardener doesn't elaborate on it further. "There's a way to gamble, though I don't do it much," he notes, letting the easy smile back in place as he studies her eyes. "There's a way to not squander what you got. Might be able to teach it to you sometime." Back to the Bitran accent," Sounds like you've heard it enough," he adds musingly, his gaze taking on an interest. "Are there plenty of Bitrans here that you sit and listen to talk all day?"

"No. Just a few. You'll run into them soon enough, I'll wager." Rio must grin, for her eyes crinkle at that, and she will finally reach over and nab the weight of the sack from the man. "Here's my stop." It's a small outbuilding, outside the caverns proper, and the door is slightly ajar. "Thank you for your gracious company, your assistance, Lo. Good luck here at the Weyr." An inclination of her head, to this, before she'll hobble over toward the door and, after a hail within, be lost in the shadows within.

"I wager, indeed," Lorayit remarks to that, nodding to her thanks as he allows the sack to be taken. "Good luck with all that. Perhaps I'll be seeing you again, Rio of Crom." Fingers tick off at his head in a salute before he's gone, his back to the door as he heads out in the direction of those talked about fields from before.

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