Logs:Smash Crayfish, Not Pots

Smash Crayfish, Not Pots
"Are all of your classmates fucking idiots?"
RL Date: 5 June, 2013
Who: Cadejoth, K'del, Solith, Telavi
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: Directly after storming out on K'zin, K'del runs in to Telavi, who cheers him up.
Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr / Southern Beach
When: Day 24, Month 12, Turn 31 (Interval 10)
Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Anvori/Mentions, Edeline/Mentions, I'daur/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Meara/Mentions, Quielle/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions
OOC Notes: Very backdated.
Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond. Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off. An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl. It's just past dusk: a cold, damp-but-not-snowy day sinking to an end. There aren't many people out on the Ledge in conditions like these, as the temperature steadily drops further, but that just means there are fewer people to see this part of K'del's storming march out of the Snowasis. He's only been inside a few minutes; now, he kicks at the leg of one of the chairs as he passes, sending it clattering against the table. That gets the attention of the weyrling who's hesitating at the side of the very patient green dragon who must have landed only just shortly after the bronzerider had entered, and yet Telavi still hasn't wholly made up her mind as to whether she should go there or go back. She's swathed in a furry coat over heavy leathers and a scarf to join the near-eternal cap upon her head, but what with the need to see, that scarf isn't voluminous enough to hide her suddenly-big eyes. "K'del?" It's half an exclamation, escaping her like that. "Are all of your classmates fucking idiots?" It's uncommon to find K'del fuming like this: it takes a Tiriana or an Aishani, more often than not, and even then it tends to be the quiet, seething anger, not this explosive variety. He kicks one of the blue flower pots (the flowers are largely dead anyway; it's no great loss) right off the edge of the ledge, watching it shatter, and comes to a halt, fists clenched at his sides. He scowls down at the green and her rider, brows like twin thunderclouds. Those other flower pots? They might also be in danger. Her brows have gotten all twisty, and a calm girl might have inquired as who he was talking about, and a smart girl might have headed somewhere warm and away. But it's Tela, and even with Solith shifting uneasily behind her, she's frowning now too. "Half, on a good day. And that matched." The pot. Break one, have to break them all? K'del's foot hovers in front of another of those pots, but Tela's remark seems to shake him out of the need for immediate destruction; he sets his foot down again, and exhales, lengthily. Deep breath. And another one. "Please tell me you're not stupid enough to believe that a friendship with someone makes you entitled to know everything that has ever happened in this Weyr, in full detail." He's slightly calmer, now. Slightly. "Even when things are not common knowledge for a fucking reason." Solith doesn't exactly relax, but she relaxes to a degree, even before that second deep breath and while Tela's still frowning, herself. There's a moment where she could give K'del the flip answer, is surely tempted to, but, "Not hardly. Not even everything that's happened just to you." But a small touch of it escapes in what could have been a smile, "Not to imply it's not interesting. Do you need something else to kick?" Maybe she knows where there's a double row of flowerpots just waiting to be done in. There's still a touch of wariness in those bluish eyes but her hands stay hidden in her pockets. Abruptly, K'del lifts his hands to scrub at his face; his shoulders droop, steadily losing some of their anger and tension as it morphs into frustration and dismay, instead. He takes his time in answering, letting his hands slide backwards through his hair before, finally, dropping back to his sides. "Think I'm okay, now. He's just-- shells. If this is what being a parent to teenagers is like, I hope my kids never grow up. Guess I'll have to own up to Anvori, offer to pay for breaking his pot." A few careful steps aren't anything like commitment, and they aren't careful because of the ice because there isn't any, and they do pause at that never-grow-up. K'del's too grown up, or at least older or higher in the hierarchy for Tela to say certain things, but she settles for a genuine, "I'm sorry." At least, "It doesn't have to be right this moment." "It-- I-- Yeah." K'del stumbles over his words, ultimately afixing a baleful glance on the weyrling, something about it suggesting an apology (at least of sorts). "Sorry for snapping at you, too. And not even saying hello. Hi, Tela." His hand is reaching for his hair again, curls that need trimming given a good rumple. "Guess I'll talk to Anvori tomorrow. You know, not in the middle of the evening rush." And that baleful glance has Tela stepping right back. Only then he surprises what should have been a laugh out of her, winds up a small smile, if one that shows dimples that much more deeply for its restraint. "Hi. Hello, K'del. That seems eminently logical, wouldn't want to disturb the man at work. So, how do you like the weather lately?" She's smiling: that's good! An improvement. "Rather start on his good side, as much as I can. Not that a broken pot is so serious. It's more the principle of the thing, probably. The weather's shitty, but that's winter at High Reaches for you. 'least you lot can travel further afield this turn, right?" He's still not smiling, not even to return hers, but this is an improvement. It's a small smile. Will it survive? 'Start' raises her brows a fraction as he begins to speak, until they relax with her nod, and while Telavi indeed isn't exactly smiling now, it's more out of its not outliving its moment. "We can between anywhere we can think of... well, anywhere we can see." "We know some nice spots down south," offers K'del. "If you want to get Solith to bug Cadejoth for them. Unless you know enough already, of course." He tries for a smile-- it's tentative, and a little awkward, but at least he's stopped looking murderous. Evidently, his anger is fleeting. "But if there is anywhere you'd like to go, and you don't know it yet... we'd be happy to help." "Can you ever know enough nice spots, really?" It's reflex for Telavi to let that blithe quality slip in, even if the phrasing isn't what it might have been minus such a murderous expression just moments ago. And should she travel anywhere, or even get ideas to travel anywhere, with anyone who's seemed in such a mood so recently? She glances up at the leaden sky, and then back at him, and then there's something about his phrasing... "It's hard to say, since I don't know where I don't know," and there's that hint of smile all over again. It's true: he might not be safe, for all that he's looking more and more harmless (in as much as someone his height can be) by the minute. "Point," he says, in a way that allows it to encompass both of her remarks; he smiles, too, a little, twitching one around the corners of his mouth. "Cadejoth could always just share some of his favourites with Solith, as he thinks of them, and you can keep those that appeal." Beat. "Promise they're trustworthy. We are, I mean. I - ah, shells. You know what I mean." Hopefully. Hopefully. Could she, keep them? With Solith? Telavi glances back over her shoulder at the green, who's got her fine-sailed wings furled tightly for warmth and otherwise is shaking ever so slightly, purposefully, against the cold. "Like a scrapbook," she agrees. Though, "She's cold. I'm cold. If the banter's helping," if she's not breaking it by drawing attention to it, "is there one you'd recommend for right now? Preferably one without rabid whers lurking just out of the picture frame. Live rabid whers. Although I suppose dead rabid whers wouldn't be much fun either." "No rabid whers, check. Let me think." K'del uses his knuckles to try and warm one of his ears (a fruitless gesture, needless to say) as he considers. Then - abrupt enlightenment, and a smile, though he says nothing until after Cadejoth's shared the image: a placid lagoon, the sun setting over distant cliffs, all sandy beach and shells for miles. "There's that one. Right time for day for it, this time of the turn. Long days, down south." Telavi, even in pulling up her collar well past her mouth, gets that smile of hers showing in her bright eyes for the gesture. Solith draws in a moment's breath of realization, and that cues the girl to not so surreptitiously nudge the green with her hip: tell her, tell her, tell her now. Then her realization finally shows, Solith's own eyes brighter for it, and she says regretfully, "I only wish I felt more like swimming. But the rest of it looks amazing. Should I bring anything?" Her nod points out what's really quite vague, out off towards the cliffs like that, but presumably their weyr's out there somewhere. K'del has caught that nudge: it makes him smile all over again, and more genuinely, now, and even more when he catches her realisation. Cheerfully, "Depends. You any good at catching crayfish?" She stares at him, and then lowers her collar just enough that he can see the curl to her mouth. "No. I have never, ever, ever caught crayfish in my life, and I may well not even know what they look like. Is this an important life lesson, catching crayfish?" "Of course it is." How quickly moods change; how quickly K'del goes from murderous to teasing, his dimples finally, finally showing. "Catching 'em, and then cooking them over a bonfire, in a hot, summer twilight." "Of course." Well, then! Telavi holds her dimples in reserve, but then she'd frittered them away earlier. "I tell you, K'del. You will catch them, and you might even teach me to catch them if we get lucky, at catching crayfish, and then there will be eating of crayfish, if you really are as good at catching crayfish as you imply. Although even if you aren't, I might try one anyway, just to be polite." K'del gives her a mock-appraising glance, one that quickly turns to mock-hurt at the implication he might be full of hot air on this topic, but he can't hold either for long: the dimples are determined to be put into service, having been so denied, earlier. "'Just to be polite'. Suppose I can't ask for more than that. It's a deal." "Oh, you can always ask," says Tela airily. "I can bring some wine? White? Although if you have some, I'm sure it's better." "But not, 'ask and you will receive'?" K'del turns, now, so that he can meander towards the steps, and then down to the bowl itself, his hands finally finding homes within his pockets. "If you've got some, bring it. I've only red - winter, see - and it's clearly the wrong thing for a venture like this." Telavi tips her head in negation, it's so tragic, and she even add an, "Alas," on top of it. Does she see, about winter and red wine? If she doesn't, it doesn't show. And she dares, "Clearly it's the wrong time to ask the bartender for more," given the pot, "even for a venture like this." "Alas." K'del, so hard done-by. Her remark makes him stop, and then laugh. "Even for a venture like this, alas. 'fraid you've been deputised. But since I'll feed you," as long as he lives up to his boasts, "seems like a reasonable deal, right?" Solith, still shivering. This time, she's the one who nudges Telavi, and even for her slight frame there's still a lot more of it. Telavi should be lucky she doesn't lean. "Fine," Telavi says, and sighs. Though even as she's turning away, she hesitates, peeking over the edge of her collar at the taller rider. There aren't many people about, no, and it's not like they've been loud, after that first part anyway, but still her voice drops somewhere between awkward and laughter. "If you still happen to have a couple of... accessories, maybe you'd see fit to bring those too." 'Accessories'. If the sigh made K'del's mouth twitch in a smile not fully expressed, that particular terminology makes him chortle. "I'll see what I can find," he promises, far too pleased with himself to make it sound serious. "Pretty sure I even did some laundry." Far too pleased with himself, all around, but what can Telavi do? ...Look horrified, all of a sudden. "You didn't!" "You wanted your accessories back dirty?" Beat. "It's fine. Did 'em myself." He's moving again, which lets him keep his voice down even further: audible to the pair of them only. Himself. Telavi stares. "You do laundry?" It's somewhere between, He keeps things clean, himself? and Please let them not be wrecked. Please please please. K'del gives her an even glance, and yes, he's still far too pleased with himself. "Holdbred. Second youngest of nine. Of course I know how to do laundry." "But there's knowing how, once upon a time, and..." Telavi's already blushing. "Hold that thought. Let's go." Solith, altogether too ready to go. K'del has an answer, but he bites it back on Telavi's instruction and simply nods, instead. Cadejoth's already winging down, landing on the bowl floor a few paces away from the green. "Let me, uh, go and fetch those things, then. See you there?" "See you there," Tela agrees, though not quite like it's a promise, and waits for the other pair to take off before doing anything other than patting Solith with her furry sleeve. Cadejoth is about as enthusiastic as Solith is, though less because of cold and more because of getting to go somewhere fun and awesome and yay. In other words: they don't linger, not even for K'del to glance back at Telavi. No: it's straight back to their weyr, both for those 'accessories' and a few other essentials, and then on to the beach. Telavi may look at the pieces out of the corner of her eye... but she doesn't pick them up, doesn't so much as touch one broken shard with the toe of her shoe. It's a quick jaunt upward, and not much longer to make some changes, but then longer than it really needs to be before flying up too. Not long, just longer, and not disappearing in the same direction Cadejoth had chosen, though in the end they arrive in the same place: those cliffs, that twilight, high, high, high. So high - and Cadejoth's still up there, too, still diving and soaring about those cliffs, the green-bronze of his hide shining, even glowing, in the light of the setting sun. His rider would probably prefer to be on the ground already, but K'del will indulge his bronze: just for a little while. That entices Solith to fly, too, and once peek backward over her wings: does she glow, too? No, mutters Telavi, seeing and reading for once, and leaves it at that. Very much at that. She hangs on, holding the sack laced through the straps before her, and Solith's flight goes smoother for it, until at last the green veers down. Not because she's tired! for all that they had been shadowing a Frostbite rider on sweeps earlier, but won't it be so much lighter once she's left rider and straps and gear and things down on the sandy ground? When Solith veers down, Cadejoth follows, drawing his wings in close to make it as precise as possible until there he is, thumping down onto the ground with a spray of sand (he never did get any more graceful, alas). K'del's got his own sack, one that he unbuckles even before he's unbuckled himself, though they make it to the ground in tandem, the one slung over the other's shoulder. Solith crouches lower than she needs to, eyes many-lidded against that flying sand, and Telavi descends more carefully likewise, breathing in a thankful portion of warm salt air. Yes, Solith gets all those things removed, and yes, Solith gets to fling herself skyward with such speed that Telavi could wish she had more than one set of eyelids to shut, but for a few moments there all the young greenrider does is sit back on the sand and not even take off her boots yet, just look and look and look out to the sea. Cadejoth's slower to get back off the ground again, but only because K'del is that much slower to get his straps off - and that is partially because he turns his head to grin at Telavi, a grin that fails at 'smug' only barely. Once the bronze has cleared the ground, the bronzerider turns his head back to Telavi, watching her repose with pleasure. "Want a blanket to sit on?" He makes it sound as though he's reluctance to break her reverie. Voices. Not just K'del's. "Please," Telavi replies near-automatically, though she's still looking. Half to Solith, "Even before, we'd go places, but I always had to go when other people went, and leave when they did, and this..." The blanket is just one of the things in K'del's sack, easily found and then brought to the greenrider, where he spreads it, listening. "Yeah," he agrees, his voice quiet. "It's completely different, when it's you and him-- her, that is. You really are free, properly free, for the first time." 'Her.' It makes her smile. "And," with a shadowed practicality as she shifts onto the blanket, "you don't have to worry about getting stranded if things go south," not just the continent anymore. 'Go south'. The twitch of K'del's mouth would speak volumes, if she were looking in his direction. His actual words are even: he remarks, quietly, "Never going to be stranded again, no matter what happens. Right. Now: boots off. You're not shadowing Taiga, yet, but don't think I won't tell you what to do." That is very definitely a tease. Won't she? Only then, later... Won't he? Telavi turns her head to look at Taiga's wingsecond, and obediently... stretches out her legs before her, pointing her toes in those shoes of hers, as if to say that they have laces; he's welcome to undo them. Her smile isn't obedient in the least. "What are those Weyrlingmasters teaching you? Where's the discipline." It might be more serious if he were still annoyed at K'zin, but for the moment, that particular weyrling seems to have been forgotten-- and he's only amused. "Well, if you want them full of sand..." He'll take off his own instead. So there. "It might be in my bag... sir," Tela says with spurious meekness. "I think the best way to get them full of sand is to take them off, and then get sand dumped into them, really." And that's it: K'del laughs, laughs hard enough, even, that he pauses in the unlacing of his boots to bend forward (he's sitting on the blanket now, legs outstretched), and just breathe. For a moment or two, anyway. He hadn't quite made it to smug, earlier. Telavi gets all the way to smug for a few smiling moments and then out the other side. Not that she unfastens her shoes, yet, but surely that's just because she's undoing her jacket and rubbing her cheek into its collar before finally sliding it off her shoulders. And that, for some reason, is the moment K'del chooses to say, midway through pulling his boot off of his left foot, "I have your things. You can check for yourself, if you can be bothered to get up again. Or later." She glances over, through her lashes but accidentally for once, just a moment before they ease back toward a freer smile. "I'll believe you." Tela leaves it there. "Good," says K'del. He'll leave it there, too... at least while he finishes pulling off his boots, and then, exaggeratedly, digs his toes into the sands. And doesn't that look on his face suggest that he's enjoying the sensation of sun-warmed sand on sweaty, recently-booted toes? It does. It does. Not that Tela's feet are sweaty, at least that she'd admit to. Of course not. Men sweat; women glow. Even their feet. Which is really handy at night, except for those who want to keep their night vision, so Tela's just doing them all a favor, really. And we've already established that Solith is not glowing... So! Back to the story at hand, which consists of Telavi eyeing K'del's toes with disfavor. K'del's happy, free-to-be-themselves toes. Hers meanwhile have to lurk in leather-bound captivity. K'del gives Telavi a look. "You're going to be stubborn, aren't you? Shoes on, until I take 'em off for you. And probably give you a foot rub, too. Or find some of that fancy stone stuff to, you know, smooth them? Or whatever." He's hazy on the details of feminine beauty regimens. "Maybe." Telavi's not committing. Death by stubbornness has to be saved for something at least a little more important. "I'd say that I might even let you get away without the smoothing part," particularly since hers aren't gnarled monstrosities, "except that what you said sounds a little more like taunting than anything realistic." It's hard, sitting on a beautiful beach like this one, with the sun getting steadily lower and lower in the sky, to be anything less than lazy. K'del's laugh, then is a lazy one. "Generous of you. Except the taunting. Would I taunt you, really?" Really, truly? K'del's expression is all innocence. Telavi can be lazy too, but not so lazy that she doesn't put a forefinger to one of the places where a dimple should be, as though considering. "Let me think. Hmmm. Does this, or does this not, resemble taunting." And then she folds her coat and tucks it neatly in her lap, holding it in place with one hand while the other slides back in the sand, the better to prop her up. Her arms are bare, she's comfortable. Yes, very comfortable indeed. Promptly, "Now you're taunting me." K'del is so hard-done-by, so maligned. He might make a dramatic gesture, too, except that as Telavi folds her coat, he seems to be reminded of his own - and off it comes, to be dumped on the sand beside him. "How am I possibly taunting you?" Telavi says, and then sighs. "You realize," she says, "it's now a thing. It's what you get for trying to order me around, though." "A thing. Is that what teenagers get, these days? I'll try and remember not to order you around when we're off duty, in future." Try. He can't - or perhaps won't - make any promises on that score, but his answer is cheery nonetheless. So is the grin he aims in her direction, dimples and all. "I," Telavi loftily informs him, "am not a teenager." She heard that. "'Try.'" She does not show her dimples. Does not. "No? Congratulations." Is it encouraging, to know that K'del does not go hunting around for the turndays and ages of people he's picked up in a bar? "Can't ever promise to do more than try, but I'm faithful in my promises all the same. Now," the dimples are still out in force, "are you going to take those shoes off?" "Congratulations to you, too," Telavi says brightly, only then her nose crinkles up as he goes on, because even if he's not serious, "Yes." Not for the shoes. It escapes her more strongly than she might like. "I wish..." K'del gives her a sidelong glance, amused. "For what? Also not being a teenager?" Only it's her vehemence that interests him more, enough so that some of the amusement is replaced by seriousness. "You wish?" "Why yes," for not being a teenager. For the rest, Telavi glances from him to the water and then finally remembers to take her hat off, the scarf having disappeared back at their weyr: one fewer accessory to keep track of this time. "I wish more people actually did it that way, along with the actual trying so it's not like they're just trying to 'snake out of it, anyway, instead of making promises too easy to break or twisting themselves into knots to avoid it." Her answer is weighty enough that talk of teenagers is abandoned, and, instead, K'del turns his own gaze out towards the sea, resting his arms upon the raised surface of his knees. "Ah," he says. "Mmm. Would make life easier, that's for sure. But we're stupid creatures, sometimes. We feel powerful, making promises, especially when it gets us something we want. And then... well, even when we mean well, it's not always enough, is it?" For that, and maybe because he's not looking though she also doesn't do it surreptitiously, Tela reaches forward and loosens one of the knots of one shoe, one-handed. Her hand loosens then, only to slide up to her ankle and wrap around it. K'del has such experience she doesn't, and in the moment she must be aware of it, for all that the words might apply to nearly anyone. When finally he stops speaking, her, "Yes," is agreement to it all. Some time later, "Sometimes anything less than the grand gesture feels half-assed." To that, K'del has his own, "Yes," to be followed up with, "And people expect the grand gesture. The 'yes, I will change for you, because I will do anything for you' or the 'I promise I'll never screw up like that again'. Sometimes they're disappointed by the truth." His expression has turned introspective, but not - thankfully - moodily so. "Or 'Whatever you do, I'll always, always,'" Tela stops herself, and if he's not going to be moody she will, if only for the moment that precedes her glance up to the sky and, with it, her half-laugh. High up there, Solith peeks down and then, vaning one wing, rolls in the air right before tumbling in the opposite direction. "Love you? Respect you? Care for you? Believe in you?" K'del can finish that one a hundred different ways, even if it means interrupting anything she might have intended. Cadejoth's not so agile that he can follow Solith's roll, though he starts to make an attempt and changes his mind partway through. It means she gets a lead on him, but oh, as if that matters? "All of those," Tela doesn't mind agreeing. Only she adds without particular emotion, "'Be there and take it.'" Which sounds so much better than 'stay and not run away.' As for Solith's lead, she'll take that and run. If, when, he catches up, that'll be okay in a different way! Wryly, "Always thought I'd be able to say, unequivocally, I'd never abandon High Reaches. Believed I was saying it, for certain, making a promise I could keep. But I couldn't. Now, I try and avoid that kind of promise, when I can." He reaches across, aiming to nudge the greenrider's knee. "But this is too beautiful a spot for moody thoughts." "At least," but then Telavi stops, eyes that presumptuous hand, and aims to bump his knuckles with her own. "What, should moody thoughts just be in some dark and smoke-stained cave, preferably with klah burnt down to the dregs for added atmosphere?" K'del turns that knuckle-bump into a hand-hold, but only because he's pulling himself to his feet and evidently intending to drag her along with him. "Yes," he says. "Beautiful beaches on beautiful evenings are wasted on moodiness." "Wait, wait," Tela says, half up to her feet with that foot gone up in the air. "My shoe's untied!" Tying is harder to do than untying, one-handed. "Told you you should take 'em off!" K'del's unrepentant. "And if we're going to catch dinner, we ought to start before it gets too late. Unless you want to eat--" "Eat sand?" Telavi interjects with an extra tug of his hand for emphasis, like she's going to do some fantastic Jo-hold and faceplant him, only really it's just balancing while, fine, she unties instead. And therefore, it's sort of like helping her untie them. Close enough! K'del's pleasantly smug by this, even the eating sand, though he does retort: "No. Before midnight. Or we could just drink the wine I hope you brought and get drunk instead. Maybe there's fruit." On the trees, presumably. "I did bring the wine," Tela says, "and don't look so smug. It's just to save the leather." Next shoe! Socks, too, stuffed into the second shoe before it's flung back to the blanket. "No, you not-promised me crayfish, and crayfish we have to eat, at least if they don't eat us first." That only increases K'del's smugness, in a gloriously unrepentant kind of way. "Well," he says. "We're going to need to get our feet wet. I'm going to roll up my pants." He has to drop towards the ground for that, and does so without warning. "Oh no!" exclaims Telavi at the prospect of seeing his ankles, covering her eyes with her free hand. "All ri..." and then it's not all right because this time the exclamation isn't on purpose as she tries to let go of his hand even as she's yanked down. Maybe K'del had forgotten he was still holding her hand. Or maybe not - he's grinning when he glances back up at her. No, Telavi isn't still self-blinded, though her hand does wonders for shading the way she narrows her eyes at him. "You could have used your other hand, you know. Men have two hands for a reason." "What? We do?" K'del inspects the pair of them with some level of mock-wonder. "Well, if you really think the second one is an extra..." Telavi still isn't Jo, but she can look toothy. K'del's snort is cheerful. He tugs his trousers up his legs, and turns to grin at Telavi all over again. "Remind me to keep my hands away from you." Which clearly means nothing. Or does it? Telavi's got a look like she's tucking that away for later, briefly impish before walking faster towards the waterline. Crayfish like water, don't they? Lengthening his stride so that he can catch up to Telavi, K'del explains, "You can see the bubbles in the sand where they're burrowing. This kind, anyway. Pretty sure there are some that just live in the water, but whatever. We're going to dig for them." Wait, what? "Do you have tools for this? Because I have pretty nails." But Telavi does point, "Bubble. Unless it's a random hole, I suppose." "Pft," says K'del. "We use our hands. I suppose you can just watch if you're afraid your nails will suffer too much." He seems pleased (relieved?) by the presence of that bubble, as if he hadn't been entirely confident of finding what he was after. "You may use your hands. And no, I don't just like to watch." A brief scan of the shore leads Telavi to all but skip down it towards... no, just a bit of seaweed. She kicks it. Further, though, there's a stick... no, that won't do either, too soggy. Further away from the water, though, she crouches to examine her new find: might that do? "Know you don't." It's not quite smug, but there's an air of 'fond recollection' to K'del's tone as he says that. His gaze follows her quest, though he stays where he is at the water's edge, letting the waves rush over his bare feet and then glide back out again. She glances over her shoulder, her hair still braided up and not hiding a whit of her sudden smile. Then she trots back with her newfound treasure, what turns out to be a grayer stick, followed by the half-broken shell she picks up along the way. "I am Tool User. Want one?" Though it's the shell Tela offers him, more of a scoop, really. K'del considers the shell, but only for a moment: his abrupt shake of the head denies any use for it, and precedes his drop to the ground just on the water's edge. A wave begins to rush in; as it rushes out again, there are more of the little bubbles-- and K'del dives to dig at one, using both hands. Telavi stays standing for now, by contrast, though she does lift each foot up in turn so she can roll up her pant legs, too. She stays put, watching, and when he dives and digs, of course she has to clap. "You have to be quick," he explains, and evidently he's not quick enough, because after digging heartily for several seconds, he stops again. "Or they get away. Like that one. Good diggers, these critters." No 'quick-er' from Telavi. Instead, "That must have been a crafty one," she agrees. "What do they even look like? I'm wondering now if what I think you mean isn't actually what... they are. And do you mean 'quick from when you first start digging,' like they're alerted, or 'quick from when the water first goes away'? Or something else?" Her voice has gone quick, pragmatic, eager to learn and eager for the hunt. "Both. They come in with the water, see, and then start digging themselves into the sand while it's wet. They'll keep digging away from you, too, if they work out you're there." K'del sounds relatively confident of his explanation... but there's every chance he's making this all up. She nods, taking direction, and with another quick glance confirms whether he seems to be standing downhill from what had been his bubble of choice. But if K'del is making it all up, what's the worst that can happen? Why, that they'll starve sooner, rather than later if not enough tithe gets in! Just in case, Tela asks, "This doesn't have anything to do with the angle of the moons, does it?" K'del has his back to the ocean, yes, which means the waves lap in around his ankles without a great deal of warning-- despite his haphazard rolling, his trousers are definitely already wet. Still, he's nothing but cheerful when he says, "Oh yes. The angle of the moons, the height of the tides. Some people swear by the blood of a virgin in the water, but..." A wave comes in, a bubble forms. He begins to dig. "Maybe a virgin crayfish would work. If it has blood." Tela has no idea. But what she can do, is start stomping on the sand behind him as though to flush the poor creature uphill, though the shaking fists are probably just for effect. This time K'del is luckier(ish): his prey is actually visible for a moment or two before it manages to burrow away and disappear for good. Telavi doesn't tap her fingers or anything, at least, but the dance does die off. "Better?" she offers. "This time?" "Swear it was easier, the last time I tried this." Maybe he was with people who knew what they were doing. "Keep moving, though. It might have helped. Stampy-dance." He'll keep digging. "Right, then." Stampy-dance, she can do! "It's a good thing it has a name now," Tela says meanwhile. "The dance." She brandishes her stick, not quite at K'del. "All dances need names," is K'del's opinion on the subject. He doesn't seem to be taking his failures too personally; his grin is unchanged. And anyway, this wave? This might be the wave. If he's just that little bit faster. Nor does she, amused. Except then that wave? That might be the wave that soaks the rolled hems of her trousers, and there's an ill-stifled exclamation of surprise that bears a strong resemblance to a yelp. But it's not like Tela will stop. So busy digging, as he is, K'del only seems to recognise the noise Tela makes for what it is after he's triumphantly grabbed his prize... and smashed the poor thing's head in with the back of his hand. Luckily, facing his back as she is, Tela doesn't have to see that violence in action. He really was murderous all this time! But how he'd stopped digging, though? Yes. "Well?" He stops, she can stop, though there's still a tapping of her toes that doesn't want to. K'del swings his head around so that he can grin triumphantly at Tela (though he doesn't wave his prize in her direction, just tosses it a little further up the beach). "That's one. Reckon you're helping. Shells-- well, if you get soaked you can always just take your clothes off." That's when he'll turn back to the task at hand, really. "That is so teenagerish of you," Telavi says, and it would be stern if she wouldn't, well, giggle as she follows him toward the next bubble. "I'm creative, I'll think of something." "Never grow up completely, that's my motto. Especially when you're not on duty or anything." K'del makes quick work of this bubble, too: by the end of it, he's got a second of the mid-sized crustaceans to show for his work. He gets applause, too, because Telavi's just that helpful on top of the dancing and everything. "I'll remember you said that," she warns. Accordingly, he takes a bow. He'd probably try and make the (now dead) creature in his hands take a bow, too, but that would be... gross, and he's smart enough not to try that in front of a girl. "Remember whatever you like, sweetheart," he says, the appellation sounding not especially serious on his tongue. Nor does she seem to take it so, and if there's a brief tightness to her glance, it can't be due to thinking he's meant it. But swinging her fists around can help a lot of things, and in the next moment she's back to laughing, "How much of each of those is edible, anyway?" She might even have liked the crayfish puppet. Does K'del even notice that tightness? He doesn't give any indication of it; his smiles is as brightly cheerful as it has been of late. "Not all. Guess we'll probably want a couple each. Want to try and start the fire, while I catch us a few more?" "Actually," Telavi says, "I want to dig. You shouldn't get all the action around here. But," and she eyes him, somewhere between daring and warning and yet more laughter. "You know what that means. It's your turn to dance." "Dance," repeats K'del, as if it's a foreign word all of the sudden, completely outside his experience. And then he laughs, tossing his second catch up onto the dry sand. "Just for you: fine. Let's hope my skills are as impressive as yours." He straightens, his pants well and truly wet and sandy up to the knee, and meanders lazily towards her position, where he takes a bow. It's all hers. More applause! And then Tela's wrapped both fists around her stick, like she's going to stake that poor crayfish, or at least burst its bubble. "The only problem is," she says, panning her gaze over the sand so as to better spot the telltale signs, "It's hard to see you and do this at the same time." Which she's about to do, because: wave, bubble, crouch and dig-dig-dig! "Alas, my dancing is altogether lost to you," says K'del, implying in a very non-serious tone of voice that she really is missing out. And, in truth? It's pretty funny, all that stomping and spinning and arm-waving. "Tragic." All right, Tela has to look... even if that means her crayfish slips away. It's worth it. Just for her, when she looks, K'del has to finish his little dance with a struck pose: ta-da. "Get back to work, woman!" "So you're a Hold boy, were you?" As though Tela can tell. Not that she doesn't get back to work: she wants to eat and, moreover, she wants to get one. Like Solith. "Tillek," confirms K'del. "But not the coastal part. Inland. Grapes. Why, do I still smell of Holder dirt?" He'd sniff himself, dramatically, but that would probably be lost on her; he settles, instead, for sighing, over-loud and over-dramatic. "Would that be so... Oh!" It's a cry of triumph, Telavi reaching in for her prize, only to... "Ouch!" She drops the thing, or tries to, because it's caught hold of her finger and now she's scraping it away. Dance aborted, K'del all but launches himself in Tela's direction, so that he can hover at her side and ask, "You okay? Here--" He can try and do... something. "It got me!" She sounds offended. And if he's not careful, it'll get him too. K'del grabs for the poor, frightened creature, and does... something that makes it let go. Magic, clearly. He then kills it, and adds it to the pile on the beach, calm as anything. "There. You all right? Did it break the skin?" The poor, frightened creature which is not Telavi, apparently, since she still has her skull intact. Still breathing more quickly, rocked back on her heels, she stares at the pile of crayfish corpses rather than her hand. "I don't think so. I mean, I don't think it broke my skin, but shells those things are bitey." "Wouldn't you bite, if someone was grabbing you out of your home, and about to throw you on a fire and then eat you?" But K'del's expression is sympathetic, and he reaches, now, to grab her non-injured hand and squeeze it. Tela glowers at him. "I'd kick first." Just to warn him. But she smiles, and squeezes him back. "It's all right. One more?" Blithely, "I'll keep that in mind, if I ever decide to eat you. Right, yes. One more." That would be Telavi coughing, not so much with the digging. Maybe she got some sand where it didn't belong! That would be K'del, smirking in reaction to the cough. That would be Tela, flicking sand at his bare feet. At least, if he doesn't retaliate, too much, she'll get back to digging. Just one more! K'del's 'retaliation' comes in the form of some kicked water as the next wave comes in... but then he's back to dancing, albeit less energetically, this time. Energetically enough to summon up a crayfish, not so dramatically that it distracts Telavi any more than the mock-scowl for the splash had been... and if the next bubble doesn't work out, the one after that does. Of course, half of it winds up crushed into the sand with all that extra pinch-preventing pounding, but maybe the rest will be edible? Certainly Tela's looking upon it with no little satisfaction. As Tela begins crushing the poor thing, K'del's dance comes to a final, overly dramatic conclusion - at which point he can step forward to peer over her shoulder again. "Hah!" he says, triumphantly. "And now we can make that fire. Good job." As long as he's peeking over her shoulder, Telavi waves her... actually not very crayfish-stinky sand-dirty crayfish-insides-gooey fingers at him. They're actually relatively dry, even, just a little sand and whatever splattered. "Tasty!" teases K'del, ducking back to avoid those fingers (just in case she wants to get them too much closer to his poor face). "Also: ew." "My work here is done," Tela claims with even more satisfaction, reaching down to pick just the right patch of dry sand to impale with her stick like a flag: Telavi was here. And conquered. She can wash her hands in the sea afterward. "And now we dine." Where 'now' means something rather less immediate, granted, since no one's about to eat those poor dead critters raw (not even the dragons, still flying overhead). K'del washes his hands on the briny ocean, and dries them roughly on his shirt. Crayfish gathered up in one arm, he offers the other to Tela; ever the gentleman. Is his arm clean, though? That's the important thing! Clean... enough. Ish. Telavi eyes the lagoon for a moment as though she might give that arm an extra dunk, but then, why not, she takes it anyway because this is the rustic life. Gentlemanly rustic life. But because she has to check in so many words anyway, "Still not raw?" "What?" K'del, who had just started heading up the beach, catches up with what Tela's actually asking only after he's lost the pace of his stride for a moment. "The food. The future food. The soon-to-be-food or at least it had better count as food." There's a slight pause. "You know, I heard about people cooking those with wine," Tela offers. "Unless it was spiderclaws? Or fish or something." Aren't they all the same? "That food. Well, it's raw now, but no, we are definitely not-- with wine, really?" Beat. "Seems like a waste of good wine to me... and I've never been especially fond of wine. Still, rather drink it." "Really. Don't you have confidence in your cooking? We don't have to use it all up. The wine, that is." Tela's sidelong glance precedes her bright, "Speaking of wine! Do you get drunk a lot, or would earlier have been a special occasion?" K'del turns his head to meet that sidelong glance, which means he can't hide his reaction to her question; his mouth twitches, the corners of it slipping upwards, then back again. "Drunk, no. Not unless I'm especially foul-mooded. So tonight might've been one of those occasions, but..." She saved him! "...Since we aren't talking on and on about it, you're saved," Telavi declares, leaning on his arm for a moment. "Not that it's not too late, but really, why be foul-mooded if we don't have to be?" "Go me." And then a laugh, as K'del's head shakes. His, "or maybe 'go you'," is quieter, and more reflective, but that train of thought clearly doesn't last long. "Right, right. No point being foul-mooded. " "Unless it's still hiding in there, all ready like a fish that got wrapped too tightly in the oven to get heated and explode... then again, we don't have an oven. And that might be the extent of my fish knowledge," Telavi adds. Or warns. They've made it back to the blanket and their things, and K'del drops their catch onto the sand, laughing. "Luckily for you, my knowledge of cooking extends just far enough to roasting these things in the flames. Once we have flames, anyway." Tela drops his arm while she's at it, stretching instead... only to stop all of a sudden, midway, her arms still up and her eyes startled wide. "Is that going to be a problem?" "The present lack of flames?" K'del turns his head to give her a glance, shaking his head as he does so. "Got a-- thingy, with my things. Tinderbox. All we need is some dry wood." "Wood without crayfish squished on it, too, I'm guessing," Telavi says, adding over her shoulder as she treks higher up the shore, "Note how I'm not waiting for an order to go hunt. Or even a wingsecond-to-wingsecond suggestion." "Guess that means you learned something in silver thread classes after all." K'del's teasing when he says that, and following her up the beach, though his loping gait ultimately carries him in a slightly different direction as they reach the jungle-like area beyond. "Incredible, isn't it? What's your favorite thing that you learned? Or maybe the thing that did you the most good, they aren't always the same." Telavi gives the jungle an equivocal stare. The sort of green-looking jungle. Tela's question makes K'del pause, hand hovering halfway to the branch he'd bent to pick up. "Pretty sure the most important lesson I learned was... Well. Didn't get picked, to begin with. Missed out. A test, I think, because I was so certain. And when I did get the option to join, I was given it with the caveat that a friend of mine would lose her place. All of that? It stuck with me. Lesson of humility, and of having to weigh my desires against those of other people." The first part doesn't necessarily surprise her, especially in light of her own class, but, "And did she? That's awful!" This isn't some mock-frown of Tela's, not now. "Told I'daur I didn't want it, if it meant Rascela being kicked out. He let me in anyway." K'del's smiling as he says that, and if, in his crouch, as he grabs for that branch, his smile isn't as obvious - well, it's in his tone, too. Oh, I'daur. Not Meara. Telavi's expression doesn't immediately ease, still crumpled somewhat about the forehead. "Did you think he'd say that? Did you have any idea? Would they, really?" Would Quinlys? K'del mulls on that for a moment, quite as if he's never thought about it, which surely can't be truth. "Pretty sure I guessed it was a test of some kind. But it seemed... Well. What kind of leader would I be, if I stole a spot from my friend? Even if they wouldn't've, how could I take that chance? Knew I could be a leader, whether or not I had their thread." Quinlys would totally follow through. Quinlys is stubborn. Somewhere in there, Telavi probably picks up a token stick or two, but it's not like she's motivated. Rather, she has to ask with one dimple showing briefly, "And before all that happened, did you convince someone else to give you the extra information along the way, or have to catch up?" Luckily, K'del is motivated enough for the both of them, adding stick after stick to his pile. "Raz let me look at her notes," he says. "So I could keep up with a lot of the theory, ahead of time. Still... it's not really about the theory, is it?" Luckily indeed. "Raz," and Telavi prolongs the vowel until it runs right into, "--scela?" but more importantly, "Maybe not," but for all her teasing about co-wingseconds, for all her arguably-civil disobedience when it came to laces, she's a touch hesitant to disagree on this. "But it's what the rest revolves around. I think. For our class. It's starting to look at it differently, even before we argue about it, it gives a language so we can understand things better at the wing meetings so we didn't start out missing quite as much as before," she stops, changing course. K'del's nod confirms the identify of the note-sharer: Rascela. Hopefully Telavi can actually see him to see it. It's the rest of what she says, though, that has him turning to peer at her through the trees. "A language," he says. "Good way of putting it. You're right, of course. The theories important, as a grounding. Can't have the rest, without the theory first." The course she's on now has to do with stealing handfuls of his gatherings and ferrying them over towards the blanket, dumping them upon a new-made pile and then going back for more. Telavi might have seen K'del's nod, or maybe it's the lack of disagreement that confirms, or maybe even she just doesn't care about that other then-weyrling all that much. "Or," now that he's conveniently agreed, though Tela refuses to let loose with too much of a smile, "maybe the rest works as incentive, so people actually want to get at the theory." K'del has more than enough smile for both of them, and it's a grin that he aims over his shoulder deliberately, all the better to make sure she has a good chance of actually seeing it. "Or that," he confirms. "Combination, probably. Got to make theory seem relevant." There are an awful lot of fallen branches around, apparently: he's having no problem adding more to his pile for her to carry, one piece after another. "That would be a tidy answer. I'd get, you'd have gotten good marks, it would have shown we'd covered all the important topics. More of them, at least!" Also, Telavi has to ask as she clunks the next group down in a clattering of sticks, "What exactly are we planning to burn here? Is it going to be a signal fire for rescue or, if you prefer, to lure some poor ship onto the... or maybe not." Less funny, now, says her wry not-quite-smile. Wiping some sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, K'del pauses in his labours, and laughs, though his has as much wryness as hers. "Maybe not," he agrees. "Just a campfire, nothing too fancy. Reckon we've got about enough wood to be going on with, anyway. Unless you want to be rescued, in which case I should be making you do the hard work, and probably ordering you around more." Telavi exhales barely-audible relief, glancing out to the lagoon, picturesque enough that it could have been painted onto some play's backdrop. Maybe she's actually thinking about this rescue and not that one, given that she finally answers lightly, "I don't know, I could probably scream dramatically when they got close, and pretend. I'm starting to think you miss ordering people about, K'del." "You'd do wonders for my reputation, if you did that. 'Former Weyrleader kidnaps Weyrling And Holds Her In A Tropical Paradise'." K'del adjusts his last bundle of sticks under his arm and pads back towards their things, dumping them on the ground with the others. "Won't you miss ordering people around, after you're no longer Wingsecond?" "'And makes her Fetch and Carry.' Well, obviously it wouldn't be your fault," Telavi says after a delighted laugh. "Because I'm... Good question." Is it helpful to sort sticks? It may be, it may not, but it keeps at least her hands occupied. She doesn't answer right away. Finally, "The modest answer would be that, no, I only have renewed appreciation of how much work a wingleader's job must be and I'll be happy to relinquish any decision-making in the future. And be grateful." Even if it isn't helpful, K'del doesn't remark on it, picking sticks from different piles - some big, some much smaller - to begin building his fire (even if it is presently sans actual fire). Tela's answer keeps him from getting too far with it, though: he's evidently finding it interesting enough that he stops what he's doing to just listen. "But," he prompts. "You feel differently, at least in part?" "You caught that, did you," says Telavi, clacking a couple of sticks together by way of adding applause to her smile. "I like go-betweening, running around and making things work. I don't know about being in E'sren's shoes, but it's almost a shame to have gotten a taste of it now, considering. But we have the weyrlingmasters as real oversight, it can't be the same. They like to protect us, maybe from each other even." K'del goes back to laying out his sticks, and grins. "Reckon I can't blame you for that. Wingseconding-- it has appeal. Mind you, you're right: it's different out in the real Wings. Harder, because you don't have the oversight, but also more rewarding, too, because of that. Won't be so long before you won't have that protection, I guess. Out in the real Wings." "No, it really won't." Tela cocks her head, content for the moment to sit now that the sticks are laid out for him to choose between. "The big question is..." K'del's half-rising, presumably to go and fetch his tinderbox, when Tela trails off. "What? The big question is what? Which Wing you end up in?" "Close!" Tela smiles, a shining array of teeth. "Which wing you'd put me, us, in." "Oh-ho." K'del stretches, now that he's standing again, turning his gaze towards the sun that has almost disappeared entirely. "Used to spend hours with Meara, or one of her assistants, trying to work that stuff out. Guess it'll be Taikrin," don't mind his wrinkled nose for that, "who does it this time. 'less one of the queens rises first. Let's see." He turns back to consider her - to study her. "That sounds fun," Tela lets herself admit out loud, but in a tone low enough to be intended not to interrupt. Don't mind her quick flick of gaze at what she can hear in his voice for Taikrin, for it's gone by the time he's looking back to see her sitting neatly, lotus-style with her wrists resting on her knees, looking altogether instructionable. K'del's expression suggests that parts of it may have been fun, but maybe not all - there's a certain weight to it (though that could have to do with Taikrin, still). "Not Glacier," he's in motion again, now, stepping towards his sack and digging through it. "Icicle, maybe. Z'ian's Boreal. Taiga." His Wing, after all. "Do you have a preference?" "Why wouldn't you say Glacier?" Tela says as though she might have a reason in mind and wants to hear his. With K'del moving off, she unfolds herself enough to move the short distance to the special stick pile, looking without touching... mostly. Glancing over his shoulder, "Going to correct me on my fire-laying technique? Not Glacier, because... you don't fit the type. You're not a carouser, a drinker, a gambler... That I know of, anyway." "No, no, I'm all admiration," Telavi assures. Even before it's been proven to work! Safer that way. "We're to learn it before we go off camping, they say." Those of them that can go. "I'm acquainted with a few of the riders, of course. I suppose they might eat me alive." Evidently, K'del's fingers have found what he's after - his arm gets lifted, semi-triumphantly, and then he turns to head back towards the fire. "Ah, of course. The weyrling camping trip. Looking forward to it? Some of them really would eat you alive. Not all. Enough, though." "I know better than to view that as a challenge," Telavi says convincingly enough, but then, she puts very slight emphasis on that know, and even if he looks, she won't hide the smile that she doesn't let escape into her voice. "But do they like their weyrlings cooked or uncooked?" "Oh, cooked, I'm sure." K'del's answer is a breezy one, aimed at the sticks he's attempting to set alight rather than at the weyrling. "Nasty weyrling, all muscled and firm instead of fatty and delicious. Slow cooked for days and days; that's the only way to eat weyrling." Now Tela's making a face and a, "That's awful!" to go with it... only to stop, all of a sudden. "I wonder if Meara has a recipe book. There's got to be one." And that makes K'del laugh outright - enough so that he has to drop back into a crouch and control himself before he can say, "Bet there is. Reckon it's a hard job, Weyrlingmaster. Bet it's-- Oh, hey." Fire. At the curl of smoke, Telavi sidles back with a touch of unease, but what's it going to do, get her? Get Solith? But it goes away, she makes it go away. Of course, that's when her stomach growls, loudly. "Patience, woman!" says K'del, nursing his little flame. He doesn't glance up: if there's anything still to see in Tela's face, he misses it. "There." Now he'll look up, self-satisfied, proud of the little flame that is steadily growing on his makeshift hearth. For that, when he looks back up, she's put on a wistful expression as she looks at the little flame. "I thought it would be bigger," Tela murmurs. Yes, her dimples are showing. K'del's are too, when he retorts, "Give it a moment. Let it work up to it. Get excited, you know." "Maybe if I stare at it, that will help," says Tela. "Sort of like the watched pot." "Only the opposite?" K'del adds some more wood from the piles, just small pieces, to the little fire, and gives it a hopeful glance. "It's just that the wood is a little wet, I think." Excuses, excuses. "Excuses, excuses," Telavi promptly says. "Also, I don't know about opposites. Water or wood, the whole point is they're getting hotter, right?" If he weren't staring so intently at the baby fire, K'del might stick his tongue out; instead, he grins. "Mmm, but watched pots never boil, and so if it works the same way, this fire'll never take off. Not, mind you, that I want it getting enormous. Just big enough to cook our dinner." "Never boil?" Telavi rounds her eyes at the other rider, not missing more than a beat. "Where I come from, you have to watch a pot to make it boil," and she could be pulling that from where the sun doesn't shine, but the way she says it could be so convincing if one didn't know better. "Liar," accuses K'del, and he doesn't miss a beat, either. Neither do Telavi's dimples, not that she admits defeat. "But you're right, not too big. It would use up all the firewood, and a properly cooked dinner usually takes more time than that. If it is dinner, and not just a snack." Hand on his heart, K'del promises, "Won't make you hunt more firewood in the dark. Not even if dinner looks like it's going to be half raw." Speaking of: the fire seems happier, now, with a little more wood, and some more wishful thinking. "I'd rather starve," Tela claims, only to add ruefully, "at least where 'starve' means knowing that I can come back to the Weyr and get fed something, even if it isn't the same." She doesn't glance upward, but something about the tilt of her head changes, right as Solith emerges from the growing gloom like a glowing-eyed moth. The green lands further from the fire, though, enough that it flickers towards K'del but doesn't get near to going out. Cadejoth follows the green down, and his backswing might have caused worse... but thankfully he picks a spot even further away than the green. Otherwise, it might be raw Cadejoth for dinner. "Of course," says K'del, "if the High Reaches Hold tithes never come in, we might all be down to bread and water rations and makeshift beachside fires. But at least we know how to catch these guys." Which go straight into the fire, just like that. At least there would have been a lot for dinner. Seconds, even. And takeaway. "Aren't you cheerful," Telavi says, though not as though she disagrees. It's too soon followed by her wordless exclamation when he tosses their catch in, but she finds words quickly enough, "They won't burn up?" Is he sure? "Always." Cheerful, presumably. Better than the catch always burning up. It's also a lie, but a... cheerful one. "No, the shells'll protect them. Useful things, those shells." "Says the pot-kicker," Telavi says, but she can be cheerful too. Besides, "So, what, they have their own little bowls to boil in? At least they aren't alive anymore to feel it... except maybe the one that pinched me, that could be." K'del considers the fire carefully, as if attempting to pick the pinching crayfish out from the others. "That one may live forever. Even after being broiled. But right - that's how it works. I think, anyway. Seems to make sense, right?" "It makes sense, therefore, it should work that way," Telavi agrees, not nearly as wryly as perhaps she should. "And you get them out afterward... how? Just poke them out with a stick?" Something about that seems to appeal to her. "Poke 'em with a stick, pull 'em apart... pretty sure at some of the fancy places, they provide you little implements to do it, like to crush the shell to get it open? Messy. But fun." He adds another piece of wood to the fire, then settles back to watch it: there's nothing to do but watch, now. It's not that Telavi's dubious exactly, but she does ask, "And do you let them cool, or dunk them in water or something to speed things up? I'm not a fan of getting burned." She doesn't look at Solith here either. She doesn't look at Solith, but something in K'del's expression suggests he's just remembered something - something that gives him pause. "No burning, I promise. We can dunk 'em in water, sure, and then they'll be good to go." "Wonderful. Tell me if there's anything I should be doing." It would open Tela up to any sort of comment, if that still seemed like the mood she's in, instead of dinner. Though, "I'll dig out the wine, at least." K'del does lift his gaze to give her a glance, like he's weighing up that mood, but he goes with: "Excellent. This shouldn't take too long, anyway. You can just drop them in boiling water, I think, and then eat 'em straight away, but it seems like water would take too long to boil." "But that isn't nearly as dramatic and," Telavi teases as her rummaging bears a wineskin's worth of fruit, "it would ruin my helmet." Which would of course be the pot, watched or otherwise. "If I'd brought it." "Precisely," says K'del. He's certainly not volunteering his helmet. "Are we drinking straight from the 'skin?" "Unless you want to drink from a crayfish shell," Telavi says. "Mmm, the newest tasty cocktail at the Snowasis," only not only can she keep that up with a straight face, she has to make a face, laughing once. "Or a normal shell, I suppose? Or your hands. I hope it's all right that I didn't bring monogrammed napkins, either." Mock-horrified: "What? You didn't? Tela, have you never been on a beach picnic type thing before?" The corners of K'del's mouth start twitching... and then he's laughing outright again. Picnic type thing doesn't exactly help her stop laughing, especially when he gets into it too. Only then something hisses from the flames, and Tela sits up, abruptly intent. "That's a good sign," though the sideways glance that follows puts question into it. "It's a good sign," confirms K'del, firmly, though he is giving the flames a glance, a careful one. "Just means they're getting warmed up, beginning to cook. All the juices inside and everything." Telavi stares at the fire too, and once she catches herself, makes a show of staring with the way she leans and the way she narrows her eyes against the smoke as though it were sun. K'del's gaze, turning just slightly, catches Tela staring. "Deep thoughts? Or are you finding all kinds of secret truths in the flames? 'swhat my brother used to say, when I was a kid. All of life's secrets, right there." She blinks, looks back at him, eyes still a little smoke-narrowed until she rubs all that away. "And what did you tell him?" Telavi wants to know. Promptly: "That he was full of shit, mostly. Pretentious Harper types." Telavi laughs. "And did he toss you into the fire?" "No, but I think he wanted to. Then he told me about how little brothers who talk back to their elders usually end up in a sorry state, and that he wouldn't rescue me if I did. Which..." For a moment, it might seem like K'del is about to remark on the past few turns, serious sadness briefly lining his face; evidently, he changes his mind. "Well. Brothers, right?" Telavi can pry. Telavi doesn't pry. Not this time, definitely not this time. "I suppose," she goes along with it, only then she lowers her voice so it's significant rather than light. "What's worse? Next time you see him, you'll know that you were repeating one of his lines that you told him he was full of it for, before." K'del's groan is, at least, good-natured, but he hasn't missed the significance in her tone. "Isn't it bad enough we have to see our parents in us? Rather not see my brother. New topic!" Telavi's just opened her mouth with a rather wry expression, only when K'del cuts them off, she brushes the back of her hand acrossq her forehead in melodramatic relief. "New topic... dinner? Or is that part of the background topic, does that not really count. I think they're making fewer noises more, though, if that means anything." "Dinner," confirms K'del, picking up a long, slender piece of wood from one of the piles to prod out the once-creatures who will be serving in that capacity tonight. "Look about done to me." Of course, they'll have to be dragged out of the flames, one by one, and then hoisted between two bits of wood onto the rough sack K'del so conveniently has at hand, rather empty now without tinderbox and blanket. All that arduous, fire-defying work, Telavi has to applaud it. "It even smells good." Any speculation on how the sack might smell tomorrow, well, she keeps that to herself. After all, she has the wine to drag out, in its skin: a palatable white, not fantastic but just fine for palates that haven't gotten too rarefied. K'del seems quite smugly pleased with the end-result of their fishing adventures, though if he had any doubts before, they're well hidden, now. "We'll just leave 'em to cool a moment or two, and then it's time to eat. Toss us the wine?" "One-one-thousand. Two-one-thousand, and is it really good to toss wine? I feel certain someone would give me a disappointed look if I were to do such a thing on my own," which hasn't stopped Tela from tossing it already. "Very funny." K'del tries out the wine, as if he knows what he's tasting (he doesn't, despite Vintner relatives), and apparently approves. "Oh, probably. My brother - different brother - would be horrified, probably half the rest of my family, too. But I don't care." "Do you have a cheat sheet to keep track of which brother is which?" Not like it's going to be on one of her weyrling tests, though who knows about those a few clutches ago, and the term seems to entertain Tela greatly. K'del's grin is brilliant. "Oh no," he says. "No way. And I'll be mortally offended if you forget which of my six brothers is which. Names, occupations, spouses and children; it's required learning." This time, when Tela narrows her eyes at K'del, it's not because of the smoke. "You must be mortally offended a lot," she teases. "Does it get wearying?" "Hence the broken pot." Which, well. At least K'del can smile about it now, and aim a toss of the 'skin in her direction. He needs to poke at the cooling creatures, first with a stick, and then with the back of his hand. Though Tela catches the winekin, it's with a decided slosh that she doesn't try to forestall. She also doesn't apologize, nor for the reminder of the pot-breaking. She does say lightly, "Why, are there more pots that I don't know about? Do you have people following you around, setting them out just so you can whack them, and others to clean up after? "Maybe I should. Reckon that'd be easier for-- anyway, food's up." K'del seems loathe to dwell on his own emotional inadequacies, and instead motions towards the food. "Here. Let me show you how to break them open." "Easier for..." Telavi does repeat, this time, but it's lightly enough to be easily bypassed, particularly when she doesn't stop and look expectant. There's wine to drink, after all, and then cooked dead creatures to extricate from their exoskeletons. Which makes it distinctly easier for K'del to simply bypass that repetition altogether and focus, instead, upon more pleasant things. He seems to take something of a childish glee in the messiness of peeling off those shells - one part due to wine, and another simply because, well, why not? The armor of the fallen gets its own pile, not on the blanket if Telavi has anything to say about it, and though she's slower about peeling off those cuirasses-- after all, they don't have laces like proper stays-- at least the legs can be tossed away with their greaves still on. When she comes up for air, she waggles a crayfish-tail at K'del in hopes of catching his attention. "As good as you remember?" K'del has a pincer on hand, ready to wave back all threateningly. "Better, I think," is his answer. "There's something satisfying in doing it all yourself, you know? But the real question is: what do you think? Not disappointed?" "I think it's good? It's definitely an experience," and by Tela's tone, that's not disappointing in the least. "It wouldn't be the same, having it every night. It shouldn't be." Dropping the pincer onto the pile of refuse, K'del is quick to agree, "Not something I'd want to do all the time, definitely. Pretty sure it would get old, fast, in that case. But it's a nice change. It's-- not like I ever cooked when I lived with my family, still. Or did much of this. But sometimes the whole food thing seems impersonal, in a Weyr. We have no direct connection to it." "Cutting up fruit, toasting the odd piece of bread hardly counts," Tela agrees ... "Mm," agrees K'del. "And even the kitchen workers aren't usually seeing food from start to finish." "Aren't they? I'm afraid I really don't know much at all of what goes on there... where 'afraid' means 'greatly relieved'! Not that I much liked periods where I was assigned to just mending either," but Telavi shrugs, it happens. It happened. In the old days. "Well," and it's true that K'del doesn't know all that much about food preparation, either, "they get flour in sacks, and fruit and vegetables already picked and sometimes even preserved, don't they? And carcasses rather than beasts." He wipes his hands on a piece of the sack that isn't already completely dirty. "I guess?" Speaking of beasts, Telavi's just now finishing off her own last bite and getting up, wandering over to Solith to let the green lick her fingers. It must tickle, she's sidling from foot to foot like she's trying not to squirm, but either she's not trying hard enough or Solith's just that tickly. "That does make sense. They said the greenhouse grows some things, but it has to be just the special stuff, it can't feed everyone." K'del swings his upper body around so that he can watch Telavi, though he makes no motion to offer Cadejoth the same privilege. "Right: it'd have to be an enormous greenhouse to really feed everyone. Anyway, it's not like there's a better way to do it in a Weyr, not really." He stands, finally, but his destination is the water, sack in hand. ...Which is Tela's next destination too, but now that he's headed there, she holds off a moment so it's not so much following. "At least, not a northern Weyr?" Telavi half-supposes, half-guesses. Having waded in as far as his ankles, and then just a little further, K'del drops the sack, and then leans forward to scrub his hands, too. "Right," he confirms, voice lifted to carry over the sound of the waves, and possibly because he's not actually aware of Tela's present location, being turned in the other direction. "They can probably grow things for themselves more." Solith gets a last sniff, and then Tela's footsteps take her back to the water after all. She half-crouches, taking care with the movement, and touches her fingertips to the sand so the wavelets can wash through them and out again: not really cleaning, not yet, just back and forth. "What would you grow, if you had to grow something, to tide you over?" Tide. It makes her laugh, just a little. K'del doesn't answer immediately, but his gaze does shoot towards Telavi, his expression a peculiar mix of anticipation and apprehension. He smiles, echoing her laugh, but it's a little belated, on the edge of being uneasy; he's distracted. "Only thing I really know how to grow is grapes," he says, which doesn't really answer the question. It's the beginnings of that slight pause that swings Tela's gaze back to K'del, or perhaps she'd meant to look at him anyway. Either way, there's plenty to take in but what she says is, after a pause of her own that holds nothing of hurry, "Do you want to grow what you already know how?" She's smiling, just a bit, the water combing between her fingers like her own willful hair. "Growing what you know is... well, it makes it easier to be successful, I think," says K'del promptly, though it's obvious that that question has given him some food for thought. His hands swish; he stares down at them, through the clear blue-green of the water. "No doubt vegetables would be more practical. Or grains. Sadly, most riders don't take well to the idea of being forced to farm." "Do most people take well to the idea of being forced to do anything? Anything that they haven't been raised to like? I don't particularly want to be reassigned to mending." Now Tela digs her fingers deeper into the sand, scrubbing them. K'del's expression is still so serious, and so thoughtful, but not so serious, or so thoughtful, that he can't abruptly allow to appearance of a smile. "Point," he acknowledges. "The trouble is... plenty of riders have a very narrow idea of what their duties are. It's always been hard to encourage people to consider other options. Anyway. It's irrelevant." Only, quieter, a moment later: "For now." They aren't words that she echoes. Instead, "It seems as though trying out what you know, to start out with... like you say, it's easier to be successful," Telavi muses. "If that works, it's easier to 'branch out.'" Her dimples come into being, right there. "Right," agrees K'del. "At any rate, it's all academic." Even if he looks so determined, somehow, abruptly turning his gaze so that he can stare out over the darkened sky, towards distant stars and the brightness of the moons. She doesn't interrupt that contemplation, but rather contemplates him, and far less directly. The scrubbing of her fingers doesn't cease, not for a little while, at least. The sack, now threatening to float away on one of the escaping waves, interrupts K'del's thoughtfulness. He reaches to grab it, and then straightens, turning now so that he can look at Telavi again. "Have you thought about what you'll do, once you've graduated? Likely enough, you'll have a fair amount of free time." "Oh, I don't really know. It seems so far away. It's not as though I'll be responsible for anything beyond Solith, and she's easy to please, you know?" Telavi shrugs, dabbling her fingers in the water again before she stands. "Catch up on sleep, sewing, and... something else that begins with 's,' I imagine." Sleep, sewing... and then K'del laughs. "You need to 'catch up' on that? Or is it just the sleep that you're catching up on?" "A bit of both. I help out the odd friend, here and there, and," here Telavi looks back to him, gaze closer to level than defiant. "This and that for Quie, and her baby. Little things." "Nice of you, doing that. Poor girl. Weyrlinghood's hard enough without... all the rest of that." K'del can have a level gaze, too, and even sympathy. Tela relaxes somewhat at that, and it's not something she tries to hide. "I wish everyone agreed. Anyway, she deserves something nice." Something tightens around the corners of K'del's mouth; his nod is minute, but present. "What is it?" Tela asks after a moment, but softly, the way she hadn't asked further about the grapes. And then she takes her gaze off him, out over the water if not up to the sky, and pokes her big toe into the sand. "Politics," is K'del's answer. "Poor girl. Bad enough to get pregnant; worse to do it in a way that involves an already volatile situation. Which..." He's quick to add, "is not me blaming her, by the way. Anyway." "Of course not," Telavi says, but with the lift of one brow. Poking her other big toe into the sand, she walks as though on tiny stilts towards the very edge of the blanket, where she sits. "We've wondered if his cousin will try to take her child, though how she could..." But then, "This isn't very 'summer's feast by the ocean,' is it. Change the subject, would you?" As Telavi wanders back to the blanket, K'del straightens, watching her but not immediately moving to follow. He opens his mouth when she mentions Edeline, but it's that last comment that has his mouth twisting and prompts actual words: "Right. Sorry." Water splashes about his ankles as he meanders back towards her. "If you want, I mean. If it would help," Telavi half-says, half-asks, hesitant. Lower legs covered in sand, K'del flops down onto the blanket, spread out and laying back. "No," he says, "Probably a good idea. What should we talk about then? That other 's' word?" She scrutinizes the nearest leg of his, the sand trapped there, for a moment. "I seem to remember asking you to do it, not to ask me to do it," Tela points out with a touch more amusement, not that it would take much to be more. However, "'Swimming'?" There are options. "But I'm lazy," says K'del, not really serious. His toes wiggle, not that he's paying attention to them. "Swimming? Never did mind a swim by moonlight, particularly when it's warm like this." "I'm lazy too," Telavi claims for starters. "Well, and... well." She turns over onto her stomach, pillowing her cheek on crossed arms, letting her shins and feet hang out past the blanket's edge. Or they would, if they weren't held up in the air by bent knees. "'Sampling'? Maybe that's too vague." K'del shifts his position, half turned onto his side that he can glance in Telavi's direction, one arm stretched up past his head, the other down towards his feet, in front of him. "Begs the question of what is being sampled. Pretty sure we already sampled dinner. And the wine. "'And the wine'... Pass the wine?" There was some left, wasn't there? Tela seems fairly sure. There was, though K'del has to roll over to find it, and takes a swig for himself before offering it over. "Continued sampling seems reasonable enough. Just in case it got bad since we were eating it last-- ew, sorry, it's a little greasy from the food." "Oh, K'del," except it's in the sense of, 'Whatever shall they do?' "Crayfish grease and wine, I can think of better combinations," but Telavi can laugh about it, and does. "I can carry you down to the water and throw you in, if it gets too much," promises K'del, sagely, flopping back into his position upon the blanket. He's grinning, too. "No," says Telavi, sounding terribly unworried, "that would go against the whole 'lazy' dictum. Not that that couldn't be your penalty, but it wouldn't be a very severe one." "Oh, all right," says K'del. It doesn't really look like he especially wants to get up and carry her, granted. "Won't throw you into the ocean. Not even to rid you from greasy hands." "Keeping in mind that I washed mine," Tela points out, "that sounds more like ridding yourself of greasy hands. I feel as though I should warn you, bronzerider, I am not a napkin." "Wingsecond, thank you very much." K'del's laughing, in the still-able-to-speak kind of way. "Okay, fine. You're not a napkin. Not that it would ever have crossed my mind to see you as such." "I don't know, I have this suspicion that he still qualifies you," Tela teases. "But I'm glad we have the rest settled, anyway, you with your greasy hands and all." K'del lifts one of those supposedly greasy hands to waggle it, as if he intends to start wiping it all over her, all the same (he doesn't). "Fine, fine. I'm a bronzerider. Not that I'm presently riding him, mind." Now the dimples show, the more so because Telavi's lifted her head so he can see. "I was thinking that. But I didn't want to get ahead of you." His dimples show, too: a conscious echo. "Can't have that. Might end up feeling emasculated, or something." "What? It would never have crossed my mind to see you as such," which is more of a paraphrase than an exact quote, but Tela lets it go this time. "Reckon I'm gratified by that. It's not exactly the way a man wants to be seen by anyone." K'del's grin holds a small amount of self-mockery. "We're protective of our-- well. Manliness is important, apparently. Bravado." "I've heard." It comes out a trifle wry. Telavi rests her head on her arms again, sideways like before; settled, she idly reaches a forefinger towards his knee, to see if it's dry enough that she can swipe off a little sand. It's dry enough. K'del's gaze tracks down towards that knee to watch her do it, his leg tensing slightly but only, it seems, because he's ticklish. "What can I say, we're a stupid breed, sometimes. But fun." Telavi, delighted. Of course she has to clear off the next little bit with the very same finger, little touches that are nearly grain by grain by grain. This could take sevendays. "Were you ever not ticklish?" His leg twitches, slightly, and his expression? Oh, he's trying so hard to keep it even, but it's not completely working. At least he's not badly ticklish. "Been that way as long as I can remember," he admits. "Going to clean down to my feet, too? The rest of me?" 'Badly' being a questionable term, so far as Telavi is concerned, because is there really such a thing as badly ticklish when applied to someone else? "I'm a little concerned," she says meditatively, this time just barely touching the fine hairs in an already-tidied spot to see if she can get them to move without actually touching his skin, "it might push me back in the direction of napkin-hood. Which would be a problem." She can. It really doesn't seem to take much. His smile twitches, too. "You're the last thing - person - I'd dream of considering a napkin. But you could stop torturing me and come up here, instead." Beat. "Unless you like torturing me, I suppose." Does she? Telavi has to consider this a moment, that one visible dimple deepening, a moment that not-insignificantly has to do with teasing her finger just within the crook of his knee. "I do," she confesses. "Although I suppose I could come up there. Or," she's lifted her head, at least, "you could meet me in between." He's ticklish there, too. His knee-- well, it doesn't buck, but there's a definite involuntary move, squirmy and clearly both enjoyed and also not enjoyed. "You're terrible," he complains, but he is sliding towards her, probably a little more than halfway. "Are you ticklish at all? Should I try and find out?" Which equally involuntarily widens Telavi's eyes, and though she does pause for an instant, she's already begun to move upward when he complains. Something about what K'del says, or how he says it... but she smiles, and smiles brightly. "I am ticklish. I admit it." "Let's see..." says K'del, drawing himself into a half-seated position so that he can try and reach up and grab for one of her feet. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Greasy hands," Telavi protests. "They're not really greasy. I washed them, and I only touched the wineskin," the greasy, greasy wineskin, "the once." "The wineskin you said was greasy!" And then she really is eyeing him. "Are you claiming that was just an excuse to drink the rest of the wine?" K'del is all innocence, though he will show her his other hand: it looks clean enough, surely. "You're just trying to make sure I don't find out your ticklish spots." "Yes, yes, they're great secrets, this is all part of my plan," Telavi says, if without putting too much effort into believability. "Rub them on the corner of the blanket? The underside corner. Please?" She's actually starting to pale at the alternative. It seems to surprise K'del, a little, though he dutifully, exaggeratedly, does as she asks: once he's done, there won't be so much as a trace of grease on his fingers, though there may be a little sand, despite his efforts to wipe that off. Which means he gets more than a trace of girl in his arms, if he returns, never mind the sand. "Thank you. I just knew I'd be smelling that for sevens." Of course he returns. "Of course," he says, gentlemanly. "Wouldn't want that. Much prefer you smelling of--" He sniffs. "Well. You." Telavi had actually looked concerned for a moment, but then she relaxes just enough to laugh. "You had me going there," she admits. "Sorry," he says, genuinely enough, even if he is still showing his dimples. "Certainly wasn't my intention. Now." He has ticklish spots to find. Hours later, when Cadejoth's snug in his weyr, Solith's still out and about like it's been a game all this time: place after place after place.

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