Logs:Looking For A Cousin
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| RL Date: 31 August, 2013 |
| Who: Ali, N'dalis, Baley |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ali takes N'dalis to Fort Sea Hold. N'dalis finds out some information about R'zi's past. |
| Where: Fort Sea Hold |
| When: Day 4, Month 9, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: R'zi/Mentions |
| While the weyrlings more advanced in flight are winging their way far out to Ruatha, N'dalis and Suraieth are left behind. It's increasingly difficult not to feel left out, since all the other weyrlings return talking about what they saw and heard and did, but today, shortly after the group of weyrlings leave, there's a starry streak across the skies above Suraieth's still waters. « We fly, » Isyath tells her daughter with a delighted joy. « Yours should bring his flight gear and meet us in the bowl. » Ali is there in the bowl, carefully checking over Isyath's straps: her flight gear piled beside her feet. Having their weyr - at last - even if it's still poorly furnished, has been a balm to impatience - but that can only go so far. Suraieth is increasingly adept at not showing her emotions, even when there ought to be turbulence at sea... but there's a shimmer in that ocean on Isyath's announcement, and that speaks rather clearly as to the young green's pleasure. « We /fly/, » she replies, pleased. In short order, the pair are landing in the bowl alongside Isyath and her rider, N'dalis performing a sharp salute as he dismounts. "Ma'am?" "N'dalis. Whatever you're wearing, make sure there's no knots on it." Which is a strange way to start a conversation, but then things haven't exactly been /normal/ for the weyrwoman lately either. Ali steps across to admire Suraieth, to inspect her straps, and to ask plenty of questions about her well-being, going through many of the steps the assistant weyrlingmasters do prior to a long flight. "You were at Fort Sea for a time, weren't you?" It's a question, but somehow the way the dark-haired woman says it suggests she already knows the answer. N'dalis is very obviously unnerved by Ali's greeting, though he's quick to catch up, promptly answering each of the questions posed to him. The green is absolutely still as she's inspected: not even the twitch of her tail to give away her thoughts. "I was," confirms the weyrling, cautiously, giving Ali a careful glance. "Should... you be leaving the Weyr, ma'am? /Are/ we going to Fort Sea?" And why /no knots/... though that one he's too polite to actually probe. /That/ first question gets a sharp look from Ali. "I am not a prisoner here." And if there's a heated emphasis on 'prisoner', well, who can blame her. "Issy wants to fly, and there'll be not a great deal of opportunity for that, and I feel the need to indulge her." But, there's something else, too, a hesitancy- the goldrider's not all that adept at obfuscation, and a sharp-eyed gaze might well pick that up. "To Fort Sea. Your Weyrlingmasters have cleared it." An instant apology follows: "Of course, ma'am, I didn't mean to imply that." If he shifts, straightening, drawing himself to some kind of attention, it's subtle - even so, there's something determined in his gaze. "Yes, ma'am. To Fort Sea. Suraieth will be glad for the opportunity to extend her limits. She's quite eager. Why... knots, ma'am?" /Now/ he'll ask. "It seems for the best," Ali begins, then hesitates. With a glance back-and-forward to make sure no one's too close to hear, she steps closer to murmur, "I'd like to ask some questions." She draws forth a hide: on it is a face, sketched carefully in the hand of someone who's no expert, but has been able to capture R'zi's likeness well enough to identify him at first glance. There's an air of anxiousness as she watches for N'dalis' reaction, chewing her lower lip. N'dalis' eyes go predictably wide; his jaw drops, and is promptly lifted again, the tight line of his mouth tighter still, tense. "I understand," he says, words hovering just above a murmur, and rather more determined for it. "We'll... yes, ma'am. Of course." His knot, which he had removed but which was still clutched between his fingers is carefully, and deliberately, tucked away into the inner pocket of his jacket - safely out of sight. "Good." The way Ali breathes it out is with a note of relief- that he understands, as much as that he agrees. "Once we leave here, I'm not 'ma'am', I'm- I'm Amali. Helping you look for your brother." After all, N'dalis and R'zi look far more similar than her. "If she- if Suraieth feels any tiredness, you'll tell me immediately. We can take short breaks if need be, but she's- she's Issy's daughter. I have every confidence in her." "Amali," repeats N'dalis, his tone falling short of dubious, but only just: it's obvious from his expression that this is going to be a difficult transition. "My brother. Yes, ma'am. Uh - what if we do find someone who knows him? And knows he doesn't have a brother... which is to say, /if/ he doesn't have a brother." His hand has lifted towards his green, now, acknowledgement of the rest of what Ali has to say marked in his nod, and a sense of his own confidence. Suraieth, certainly, seems to have no doubts: her thoughts are placid and content. Ali is clearly not hugely adept at this sort of obfuscation type stuff: his question makes her visibly hesitate. "Cousin, then? No one really talks about their cousin." Isyath's impatience is palpable, shifting restlessly: one can almost see her nonverbal 'come /on/ already' that draws her rider's gaze with a brief grimace. "Let's go." She walks back towards Isyath, stooping to collect her flight gear, shrugging into her jacket but not doing it up before she climbs atop Isyath. Any other rider might wait for N'dalis to be ready: but this is Isyath, and she launches skywards almost immediately. 'Cousin' seems to work better for Dal, who nods his confirmation, but doesn't add anything else /verbally/ - probably because Isyath's impatience has them getting on the road, and he has to hurry to keep up. He's less practiced than Ali, and despite being effectively all suited up already, Suraieth is some seconds behind Isyath in flight. Still, once /in/ the air, she moves with a certain smooth, precise grace, lacking unrestrained glee but making up for it with cool, calm satisfaction. To Fort dragons, Isyath can be seen spiralling up from the bowl floor with her rider atop, delight and anticipation spilling out from her. (She just can't keep a secret. But shhhh!) She circles until Suraieth joins her, and with deliberate sweeps of her wings, begins soaring in a south east direction, away from the Weyr. To Fort dragons, Suraieth is slower, less practiced, less /joyful/... but certainly seems pleased enough as she drifts from one thermal to the next, catching breezes to propel herself onwards with a minimum of wingbeats. It won't take long to catch up - Suraieth has the advantage of being quicker then her larger dam. The flight is a relatively easy one - the weather is still warm enough that there's plenty of thermals to keep them aloft without a great deal of effort being involved. Assuming there's no need for stops, their flight takes them briefly over Fort, then follows the coast down towards Fort Sea. Before they get there, though, Isyath begins heading downwards, with an obvious intention to land in the hills outside of the Hold, hopefully unseen. The sense of the junior queen soon fades, although doesn't disappear entirely: she's never that far from contact with the dragons of the Weyr. (To Fort dragons from Isyath) Though behind her classmates in practice in the /air/, Suraieth's been working on wing strength on the ground for a long time, now - she's doing just fine in the air. Dal's quite calm, during the flight, and though his gaze tracks the land below with obvious interest, there's nothing unrestrained about it, certainly no glee. Flying slow is, in Suraieth's mind, efficient, and so she's roughly level with Isyath when the queen heads downwards and can quickly follow suit. It's disappointing, reallly; she had a pattern, all worked out. Ali knows her queen well enough to know that she won't stay on the ground, even if ordered to: she removes the queen's flight straps, and piles it carefully behind a rock, along with some of her extraneous flight gear: goggles, helmet, and jacket. She shades her eyes as the queen lifts off again, heading more inland (albeit with some voiced reluctance), where she's unlikely to be seen by those at Fort Sea. "Suraieth's welcome to join her, if she's not too tired," the dark-haired woman calls over, tugging a hand through her hair to loosen it. N'dalis, taking his cue from Ali, removes Suraieth's straps, too, along with the outer layers of his clothing. He's undeniably nondescript without that heavy jacket, the rest of his clothing well-worn and simple. "She'd like to," he confirms, of his dragon, who launches herself again a few moments later. "She says she hasn't been here before, and thus needs to understand how it works." He watches her - both of the dragons, really - for several seconds before turning back to Ali. "Ma-li. Amali. Do you have somewhere in mind for us to start, when we get there?" Isyath seems delighted with the company: the air over the hills is prone to sharp changes, though it smooths out higher up. It's an easy sort of walk - mostly downhill, from here, the worn path twisting back and forth as they head downwards. Ali seems familiar enough with the road that one might suspect she's walked this path before; she pauses briefly to collect some flowers from the side of the road as they go. "The seaside tavern, maybe? Um- Whisky River?" N'dalis probably remembers it - rough and full of sailors, probably /not/ the sort of place R'zi might end up in. There is a somewhat nicer tavern though, further inland, that might suit better. This is likely the first time N'dalis has been back to Fort Sea, and given his reasons for being there (and leaving), he's perhaps understandably quiet and somber, though Ali's wildflowers seem to halfway amuse him nonetheless. Her suggestion has him stiffening, his whole body tensing as if to go on high alert - as if he's preparing himself for having to defend Ali, or bodily drag her away. "No, not there," he says, hastily. "Not a good place. Not... the kind of place R'zi would be known, I think. Uh. There's another tavern, inland. We can try there?" Even Ali, as oblivious as she is, notices N'dalis' sudden tensing, glancing sidelong at him with a frown. "I- I guess we can start there instead," she concedes, while she tucks a few of those wildflowers into her hair. Maybe she misinterprets N'dalis' quietness, because after a few steps she adds: "Amali does not need anyone hovering protectively over her. /Ali/ get enough of that at the Weyr." /She's/ obviously in vehement disagreement with the rumors that the Weyr should up their security and post guards. N'dalis' cheeks darken, slightly, but his reply is quietly smooth. "Anyone walking in to that seaside tavern needs someone watching their back," he tells her, without looking in her direction. "Unless they would like a knife in the back. /I/ won't step foot in there." That this doesn't deny any thoughts he might have towards protection may go without saying; that he means what he says does too. "/I/ don't wish to die." "Well- if R'zi wouldn't have gone there, as you say, then there's no need." Ali's somewhat mollified, enough that, after a few more paces, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- it's just this is the first time we've been out of the Weyr, and it's nice not to be /followed/ everywhere and have people pretend like it was a coincidence." Quietly, "People worry about you. Not because they don't think you can't look after yourself, but because you're a /target/. We can't afford to lose you." Dal's still not looking at Ali when he says that. "People are afraid. At least being protective gives them something they can actually /do/. Most of us are powerless. Which," he's quick to add, "doesn't make it easier on you, I know." "We need to fix what's broken first." Ali says that with a vehemence that suggests it's not the first time she's voiced it aloud. "What made the- those riders believe that Fort wasn't their home. That's what caused all this." She chews her lower lip. "People shouldn't be afraid. I'm- I'm not, at Fort. None of us should be." If there's a lie there, it's well-practiced enough that she may well get away with it. This time, Dal does turn his head to look at Ali, studying her expression as she speaks. "All right," he says, after a moment, apparently accepting it. It's hard to tell whether he really believes; his expression is studiously neutral, and so is his tone. "You shouldn't be either," Ali says, just as forcefully, which is unusual in itself for the junior. She's quiet the rest of the way- it's not a difficult walk, and their dragons can be sensed further away in the skies as they reach the Hold proper. It is a port Hold, and as such there's a lot of sailors swaggering around, the warm weather bringing in plenty of trade ships. Ali's certain path ceases once they enter the Hold: it's been Turns since she's been here, and she looks to N'dalis for guidance. N'dalis doesn't answer that, except in the twitch of a nod that follows it. He holds his silence, the rest of the walk, and even once they reach the Hold itself - familiar territory, but also so full of memories. Wordlessly, he takes the lead, ignoring sailors and hold-folk alike as he makes his way up the streets and inland from the docks. It doesn't take long to reach the tavern he's thinking of, though he pauses in front of it instead of heading straight in. Ali stays close to N'dalis, much in the same way some of the local holder women do to avoid the notice of the sailors on shore leave. When he stops, Ali does too, with a frown. "Here," she's pressing the hide with the drawing of R'zi into N'dalis' hand. "You should- should do the talking. You'll be better at it." Even if just by comparison. Covert operations are /not/ part of N'dalis' skill set, but he also doesn't seem to disagree with Ali's assessment of the situation - and certainly accepts the drawing. He nods, just once, and then takes a deep breath, exhaling as he steps forward and into the tavern. Ali's close behind him- he can hear her footsteps at his back, the slow exhale of someone trying to act calm and casual who is not /used/ to acting. It's well past the lunch hour and the place is not overly crowded. There's one bored-looking girl wiping down the bar, and a scattering of groups of people here and there - a few in the corner playing cards. N'dalis tends to usually boast the same expression day in and day out, which probably works to his advantage, here: he can be as solemn as he cares to be, and it looks perfectly natural. The dark-haired man hesitates for a moment, though not long enough to trip Ali up unless she's too close, and then moves towards the bar, drawing in hand. "Miss?" The barmaid looks grateful for the interruption from mindless cleaning. She also gives N'dalis an appreciative up-and-down, head tipping. "Why hello! What can I get you and yer... wife?" It's a guess, deliberately intended to identify Ali's status, no doubt. The goldrider's silent, glancing over her shoulder at the other occupants. "Friend," corrects N'dalis, though of course that's not terribly descriptive: there are many kinds of friends. "I'll have a beer, if you would." He glances at Ali, brows raised, whether or not he can catch her attention. "And a moment of your time, if you can spare it. Looking for a cousin of mine." Ali glances back; if there's some meaning in that look other than to ask her what drink she wants, she doesn't get it. "Beer for me, too." Even if she probably won't drink it: it's a useful prop. The barmaid perks up a little, reaching under the bar to grab a couple of glasses, stepping over to the keg, though she keeps throwing glances in N'dalis' direction. "Not exactly the busiest place on Pern as you can see. Most of the sailors go to the 'River. A cousin of yours, you said?" N'dalis flicks a few small-denomination marks onto the top of the bar, and hoists himself into one of the seats. If there /was/ anything else to his glance Ali-wards, he's not pushing further for it now. "He's no sailor, that cousin of mine. Not unless he's changed a lot in the past few turns, anyway. Here - I've a picture." He sets the picture onto the bar, too, there to be looked at when the barmaid comes back with their beer. When the glasses are full - mostly more foam-than-liquid, the barmaid steps back over to set them in front of N'dalis. That she half leans over while she does it is probably no coincidence. "Oh? Let me look at that." She stares at the drawing for a few moments. "Oh, yes, I remember him. A Turn or so ago, right? He was in here almost every night, taking with old Baley there in the corner." She gestures to a white-haired older man sitting with the card players. Ali's reaching for her beer, dutifully, sipping, then grimacing at the taste and trying to hide it. That N'dalis lets his eyes linger on the barmaid as she leans over is /probably/ simply to stay in character, though, then again, he /is/ a man (greenrider or no). "A turn or so ago - right! We went separate ways, but... Baley, you said?" He turns, following the barmaid's gaze towards the man in question, taking an absent sip of the beer as he does so. "Maybe /he/ knows where that cousin of mine's got to." There's a faint clearing of throat from Ali. If it's just N'dalis playing in character, well- he has /her/ fooled at least. The card game looks like a regular one with a bunch of locals, complete with casual ribbing: Baley amongst them. The barmaid's smiling at N'dalis, pleased that he's looking. "Uh-huh. That's the one. You go talk to him, make sure you come by and say goodbye before you go though." N'dalis doesn't react to Ali's throat clearing, but smiles - crookedly - at the barmaid in reply to hers. "I will," he promises, faithfully, as he takes up his drawing once more, beer in the other hand. "Thanks for the tip. Come on, Amali - maybe /this/ guy'll be able to tell me something more." He leads the way, not glancing back to confirm whether she's following him or not, and approaches the card game. For the moment, he seems intent on just watching, semi-casual. Is that look disapproving, or is that part of the act? Hard to tell, but Ali at least does follow him over to the card table. There's pieces of paper, rather than actual mark pieces, in the middle of the table. Whatever they're playing for, it's not money. "If he's good," Ali murmurs to N'dalis, with a nod to Baley- after having edged to where she can see his cards, "He'll fold on his turn." And so he does, with some pleased reactions from his fellow players. "I was thirsty anyway," Baley says with a wave of his hands, pushing up, only just now noticing N'dalis and Ali, his gaze flickering between the two questioningly. Brows raising - N'dalis is clearly surprised by Ali's knowledge of the game - the weyrling gives the goldrider a quick bob of a nod, waiting for that fold. "Let me buy you a drink, then?" he says, voice not so low as to be seen as anti-social or secretive by the other players, but not so loud as to carry through the tavern. "The barmaid pointed you out... I just had a question for you." Baley doesn't look too convinced, or at least, he's a little bit wary, until N'dalis' offer of a drink. "Well, shit, why didn't you just say so boy," the older man smiles. "Can't really pass up a free drink. Hold my seat for me, will you, boys?" "I can- I'll sit in for you, sir," Ali ventures, with an easy smile for Baley: the others look surprised, but then like they're humoring her as the dark-haired woman sits herself down and asks questions while the round finishes out, like she doesn't know the game at all. With a surprised shrug of shoulders, Baley heads towards the bar. "Your best beer, doll," to the barmaid, before he lights his gaze on N'dalis expectantly. Now, Dal has no choice but to let Ali out of his sight - at least part of the time - though if it bothers him, he's doing a good job of hiding it between that impenetrable seriousness. More mark pieces are slid onto the bar to pay for Baley's beer as the greenrider leans on elbow upon it, and offers the picture. "Cousin of mine. She said you spent time talking to him? I'm trying to track him down." The barmaid's quick to return, leaning closer to N'dalis even if she's passing the beer to Baley, the marks disappearing off the bartop with a practiced expertise. Baley sucks down on the beer first, smacking his lips before he looks at the picture, finally. "Huh," he says, surprised, then cuts a quick glance at N'dalis. "Can see the family resemblance. Yeah, Razihel was here. Few months. Wanted me to teach him the Fort Sea accent, said it'd help with negotiations to sound local," the old man's eyes roll. "Whatever. It was worth the marks." Back at the table, another round's started, and Ali can be heard asking, "What does it mean if I have three face cards all the same?" with groaning rippling around the table and the sounds of people throwing down their cards in disgust. The collective groan of the card players has Dal turning his head to glance in Ali's direction, just for a moment, but he's otherwise intent upon Baley. "Huh. He always did have a creative mind. Guess it's good for business. Back at Boll..." Not that /Dal/ sounds like he's from Boll. "When I spent time down there, as a kid, he was always the one coming up with interesting games. Do you know where he went, afterwards? Did he say anything?" There's a bob of Baley's head at the mention of Boll, agreeing silently before he takes another gulp of his beer. The noise from the table has him glancing over that way too, briefly, then back to N'dalis. "Up north, to the Weyr, I think. Wanted a dragon. Kept talking about how they got to sit around and do nothing while he had to do all the work, and that it was promised him. /Owed/ him. Not really sure what he meant by that, but he kept the marks coming, so..." a shrug of shoulders. Things have quietened down at the table, though there's still some bantering going on here and there. "Shells, really? He always did think big. Masterharper of Pern, one turn. Master Baker. Bet he'd want to be Weyrleader, now, if that's still the plan. The /Weyr/, though. Shells." Dal is shaking his head, aiming to sound casual though he's his usual stiff self underneath it. "Wish I had something else I could tell his ma." There's a surprised snort for Harper, less so for Baker. Baley's a good three quarters of the way through his drink. "His mama chasing him down about that marriage of his? Not a fun life for a boy to be married to an older woman just for the political alliance. And him practically a babe. Guess with the Lord Holder dead they're wanting to account for all the Blood relatives, no matter how distant." /That/... is new. Dal's pokerface is not quite impressive enough to hold up against it, either, and for a moment a flash of /something/ is obvious there. He hesitates, coughs, and then says, "Well, that's the way of it, really, once you start talking Blood." It rings false, even to the greenrider's ears. "Anyway, maybe I'll try the Weyr, I guess. She /really/ would like to know where he is. You know mothers. Thanks - for telling me what you knew. It's a good start." Does old Baley notice? Hard to say, but he is a poker player, and his glass is empty. He taps it again, pointedly. "One for the road, boy? Oh, and when you find your... cousin... tell him old Baley said hi." Over at the card game, Ali's got a decent pile of those papers staked in front of her now. Certainly not the largest, but then she presumably started with nothing. N'dalis, his chin lifted in a way that could very nearly be defensive, gestures towards the barmaid, and slides a few more mark pieces towards her. /His/ beer isn't yet finished, but he dutifully takes a long swig of it, now, then pushes the glass away. "I'll do that," he says, a little stiffly. "And if you see him..." But he can't bring himself to finish that, and smiles crookedly, /awkwardly/, instead, as he stands. The barmaid - who has been listening the whole time with interest, though likely didn't pick up the faltering that Baley did - pockets that mark piece and is quick to pour Baley another beer. "What's your name, honey? How do we reach you?" The way the barmaid's smiling, it might not be 'just in case'. A pause. "Oh, no, there's no need to reach me. If you see him, just tell him his ma wants to see him. If he knows it's /me/, he'll get annoyed. It's been a pleasure talking to you both, though." He's hasty, with this, and faintly pink-cheeked. "I wish I could stay longer, but - I'd better rescue my friend." He turns, voice lifting. "Amali? Give the man his seat back, we need to get moving." It... might take a moment for 'Amali' to respond to that call. Primarily because she's not so au fait with subterfuge that she's used to answering to another name, but also because she's just won another around, collecting up the paper scraps with a half-apologetic smile to the other players. "Sorry, I have to- go. Was nice playing with you all." And as she gets closer to N'dalis, under her breath: "I won us two free rounds of beer, a free set of tailored clothes, a barrel of fish," she's still sorting through the bits of paper, so there might be more. "It's a good thing I didn't have to fork up the collateral." N'dalis' eyes are wide, partially with awe and partially, too, with something a little more like trepidation. "Shells," he mutters, though it may be as much to himself as to Ali - though, regardless of that, he's hastily (and only slightly awkwardly) putting his arm around her shoulder and escorting her out again, without another backwards glance at the barmaid, at Baley, or at any of the players. /Go/. "What? Oh, don't be silly. Amali's a fine firedancer. They would've talked about it for months. I just didn't have my- well, nevermind," Ali's amending, even if she's letting N'dalis shoo her outside with no small amount of bemusement, content to let the greenrider set the pace. "What did you find out? Did they recognize him?" /Firedancer/. That's another thing that is breaking Dal's brain, most likely, though he does nothing more than give her a peculiar glance for it, and move on. It's not until they're safely a few streets away that he lets her go and actually answers her questions. "They knew him all right. The man, Baley, he said Razi - no, Razihel - was here for a few months, wanted him to teach him the accent. He's definitely from Boll. He's /Blooded/ from Boll, somehow. Distantly." The words all come out in a torrent, a good indication that the greenrider is far less composed than he usually is. "And apparently married." Yeah, that flush of color suggests that Ali probably didn't mean to say that out loud: it's hard to look past the high of winning in poker, and the goldrider's well out of practice. Only when Dal relax does she, too, giving him an incredulous sidelong look. The 'Blood' earns a horrified look, the 'married' only moreso. "But he- why would he want to be a dragonrider if he's married?" as if the two are mutually exclusive in her book. "I don't- I don't understand." It's probably a good thing that Dal is distracted by the conversation /he/ had - it doesn't leave him much room to reflect on Ali (at least, not /yet/). He lengthens his stride, as if desperately eager to put distance between Fort Sea and them, though it doesn't stop him from answering. "A political marriage, he seemed to think. Much older wife, or something? And - and Razi went on about how he was owed to him, promised to him, to be a dragonrider, waited on. His whole thing about how dragonriders got everything and didn't have to do anything." The walk back is harder- uphill for most of the way, and N'dalis' quick stride makes it harder for Ali to keep up. That, and the goldrider's probably not as physically active as a weyrling-in-training. Not to mention the conversation at hand is suitably distracting: the woman's looking completely unsettled. "Do you- do you think he was one of those the renegades took? Maybe Jivrain even set it all up- after all, he /was/ making some sort of deal with them, and we still have no idea what it was." At some point, anyway, Dal seems to realize the difference in their strides, and slows to a stop, turning back so that he can watch Ali's approach. "It doesn't seem impossible," he says, after a moment, the thought processes nearly visible in his expression. "It's not that he could have been an intermediary between them - I mean, he's /dead/, but... it makes it all so much messier. I /knew/ he was bad news." But right now, the greenrider doesn't sound triumphant about it. Ali flashes a grateful smile as he halts his pace to let her catch up; she looks out of breath, and stops when she reaches him, face flushed. "I'm glad you- you brought it to our attention. We just didn't send him /far/ enough. Not far enough that the renegades couldn't find him and bring him back, anyway." Tucking hair behind her ear, she looks up: she can feel the distant joy of her queen, drifting slowly closer on the high winds, keeping tabs on her daughter. "We should follow it to Boll. Find out how much he was really involved in things. Except- we may never find out, and things are- difficult with Boll at the moment." And she really, really doesn't look that keen to return, judging by the suddenly pale nature of her expression. N'dalis doesn't immediately start walking again, when Ali reaches him; this time, he's more conscious of her comfort, and seems to be in less of a rush, except for his agitation. "You shouldn't go to Boll," he agrees, following her train of thought with a serious expression. "If Su could fly that far, I'd offer to go. I could- I mean, I've worked on docks before." But he doesn't sound sure about the idea, not wholly. "It can wait. R'zi is gone, and so are /they/." The heat to Ali's words makes it clear she's talking about the renegade riders. She reaches out to rest her fingers briefly against N'dalis' arm in mute thanks, as much for the rest stop as his words. "We should go. Issy's getting impatient," and that, if nothing else, evokes a genuine smile, as she starts walking again. The greenrider exhales, and then nods... though he seems less certain of the /they/ part. The corners of his mouth twist up, just slightly, at her silent thanks, and then he turns to follow her - back towards the dragons. "Su's still enjoying herself, I think," he says. "She likes this 'visiting new places' thing." But he's distracted, even in talking about his dragon. There'll be lots to think about, on the way home. Ali seems content to turn the conversation to something far lighter for the rest of their walk back up the hill- and though there is one more rest stop- with the goldrider apologetic- they make it without incident back to their gear. Isyath's preferences aside, it's a leisurely glide home, to the safety and familiarity of Fort Weyr. Rest stops bother neither N'dalis nor Suraieth - it's one more place for the green to explore, after all! - and the pair seem content enough, if distracted, the rest of the way. /Home/. And... well. A much more interesting trip than the one to Ruatha the others took! |
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