The black sand beach curls around the shoreline beneath the base of the Weyr plateau. Trees nestle between the beach and the vaulting cliff wall of the outer Weyr bowl. The turquoise waters of the ocean roll up in gentle waves, hissing upon the sand.
It is a winter afternoon.
To the south, you see a brown and a bronze dragon.
Gliding about is a bronze firelizard.
Green Aukaith and bronze Nverath are here.
You see Field Tent here.
Tussart and Ashkir are here.
Beach Hold South
The fog that is increasingly present during the mornings has decided to lift this particular morning and there's a slight chill in the air. However, even with the colder than usual morning, Ashkir can still be seen sitting on the black sand with some pants and a t-shirt. The candidate doesn't seem to particuarly care about the current weather, or the fact that he's wearing less-than-desirable clothes. Instead, the blonde is focusing on some pin point off in the distance that isn't readibly discernable, and juging by the distant look to his face, he's not really seeing the ocean anyway.
Tussart, then, provides a stark contrast in his manner of dress. Fortian by birth, he nonetheless seems to feel the damp chill of the Istan winter and has taken steps to mitigate him. He's dressed in a greasy woolen sweater at least two sizes too big for him over canvas pants starting to fray at the hem and torn at one knee. His tweed cap has been traded for a knit hat pulled down low over his ears and topped with a ridiculously fluffy pom-pom. In his hand is a leather lead, attached to the wrinkly bundle of half-grown pup that is the unfortunately named Dipshit. It's not so much that he's walking the dog as the dog is dragging him along. "'ey. C'mon, Dip. Slow down. I -- 'ey. We can't walk dat -- Dip!" The Fortian-slurred complaining is a good compliment to the canine's whining bark-howls of eagerness.
Tuss's tweed cap can be found on Saji's head, keeping flyaway dark red hair tamed despite the fact that in the damp-cold, she is wearing it loose, long over her shoulders and down her back. While the lanky Fortian singer's two-sizes-big sweater hangs and bunches, one of identical size -- if not color and pattern -- is long over Saji's arms and loose over her shoulders, but snug through her abundantly expanded midsection. "Just let'm off th' lead," she calls in Tuss's wake, a few steps behind their progress. "He'll find somethin' dead soon enough, an' we'll catch up!" Despite the fog, she sends occasional longing glances toward the sea.
The barking and shouting causes Ashkir to turn towards the sound, blinking as he glances the two approaching. His lips purse into a tight frown and he runs a hand briefly through his hair. A soft sigh can be heard as he pushes himself to his feet and brushes off the black sand. Dispite the chill of the morning, he's not exactly dressed in warmer gear but he doesn't seem to be paying it much mind. The 'Reachian is wearing pants and a simple t-shirt, seeming to be ignoring the chill for the most part. "And chance him running me over? I think I prefer him on a leash." Ash calls good-naturedly towards Tussart and Siraji. "What're you two doing up so early?"
Lanti is dressed for neither cold nor warm. She's dressed for running, as much as Pernese can. And a'running she comes, up from the south, most of her hair gathered in a messy ponytail, the rest falling stickily against her face. As she draws near to the trio-plus-canine, she slows to a jog, then a quick walk, then finally a mostly still position. She greets no one, save for a quick and general nod, taking in each of them via her usual, studious manner. Studious and weighing, as it lands on the unfortunately named yearling pup. Her lips twitch with ambiguous intent, though it might just be part of catching her breath, except that her gaze goes back to Siraji for a long second or two before she takes a far more general look around while stretching one of her calves.
"But if 'e gets in th' water..." Tuss looks over his shoulder at Saji, ample brows furrowed in uncertainty as his eyes go from the diminutive baby-cannon to the water and back. Wrinkling his nose, he looks back at Dipshit and, sighing, releases the lead. The dog is off like a shot, too-short legs working overtime to send him flying across the black sands, off to -- yes -- something dead in a tide pool. The wriggly thing is absolutely over the moons with his discovery, spanking the ground with his front paws and back-howling as he tries to ... get the dead thing to play with him? It's hard to tell. Thus freed from the burdens of pet ownership, Tuss hangs back so he can wrap his arm around Saji's nonexistent waist and pull her close before letting his attention wander to the others hanging around the beach. "e's not dangerous or anyfing," he says, raising his voice to Ashkir can hear him. "Jus' dim 's all." The question gets a glance to Saji and a grin that maintains when he looks back at Ashkir. "Wee. We all 'ad 't wee." He nods. It's true.
Primed but as of yet unfired, Saji answers, "If he goes in th' water, I'll go in after 'im," with another slightly-longing look at the fog-wreathed sea. Dipshit's attempts to get the dead thing to play are rewarded by a snorting laugh, and she waves off Ashkir's worries with a hand that turns into a wave at Lanti. "He's fine. Might try t'get you playin' with him, but ... he's got somethin' smelly." Tuss's answer gets a backward jab of her elbow, and she informs him, "Y'can say /piss/, f'fuck's sake. Hadda take a leak, an' then /he/ was up, an' then walkin' him--" It's hard to tell which him is which: her tone doesn't change. Finally, when she figures Lanti's had enough time to catch her breath, she tosses a, "Mornin'" in the golriding Weyrlingmaster's direction.
Ashkir's eyes drift to Lanti, seemingly suddenly concientious of himself. He gives himself a quick once-over with a frown as if trying to decide if he's presentable and not about to get into trouble. "Good morning, ma'am." Ashkir says with a dip of his head in greeting, his attention getting distracted by the canine's antics. He can't help but chuckle, shaking his head in mild amusement. "I'm glad that I don't get presents like that. I think I'd probably end up losing my lunch." He chuckles weakly, "How close are you anyway, Siraji? You look like you're pretty far along now." Ash laughs quietly, "Ah, I was hoping to get out and get some thinking done before the barracks got all rowdy."
Lanti, sounding a little winded but mostly okay, replies to Siraji with a quickly returned, "Morning," before she nods to Ashkir. "And to you." She wipes at her forehead with the back of one hand, then wipes it across her torso, which is, at least, less sweaty. Cold damp is still damp. She arches a brow at Tussart, then Siraji, letting out an airy, short laugh. "You remain as articulate as ever, I see."
"/Piss/," Tuss says, pulling a sarcastic face at Saji and hip-bumping her. "I had 't /piss/." He blinks his overly large gray eyes and peers through the fog to check up on Dipshit, who has apparently decided his friend isn't going to play, and so is rolling in it. He looks well-diverted and consumed in puppy bliss, his legs up in the air and his tail thwappata-thwacking against the black sand. While there's nothing particularly possessive or belligerent in the way he keeps his arm wrapped around Saji's waist, holding her close against him, he is, perhaps, standing a bit taller than he usually does, looking a bit more present and aware of the people around him. Still, his expression is characteristically amiable as he blinks back at Ashkir. "Finkin'? What about?" To Lanti, he offers a friendly grin and something that is surely supposed to be a salute. "Mornin'." He either doesn't catch the comment or lets it slide.
"There're reasons they gave up on tryin' t' get me t'go for diplomacy," Saji answers Lanti, the hook of her grin sharp and knowing, "an' I'm employed for my fists an' not my words." Granted, she's not using much of either at the moment. "Shoulda seen th' mess he was in couple days ago. Thought we'd never get th' stink offa him." There isn't anything overtly sappy to her manner, but she doesn't try to shake her young man's escort; if anything, she tips her head back to knock it against his chest, then faces forward again. Apparently she's letting Tuss field questions about her current state of gestation.
Ashkir's eyes glance to Lanti for a moment before responding to Tussart, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "Nothing really important," Ash mumbles under his breath as he rubs at the back of his head, "Trying to sort my head out, mostly." He purses his lips tightly in thought. His attention drifts towards the rolling canine, laughing loudly, "Man, I feel bad for you guys, that's exactly the reason why I have no desire to have a puppy. My three firelizards alone are enough to keep my hands full half the time."
Lanti tilts her head toward Siraji, allowing the point, then just generally listens, now and then glancing toward the puppy and its mucky playground. "Do you two have names picked out yet?" she asks, suddenly focusing on Tussart and Siraji for a moment, curious in an afterthought sort of way. As Ashkir first answers, Lanti turns that curiosity on him but seems happy to go back to the topic of Dipshit. "It's all in the training," she comments obliquely, now staring in the direction of the Sandbar. "Or... lack thereof." It's deadpan and deliberate, soon followed by, "Speaking of training, time I gather up my wards. A much harder job once they're in their weyrs. Good day, everyone." Then she's off, apparently heading to the bowl by way of the rocky, northern beaches.
"Tussinji," is Fortian-accented, from the tall and lanky singer; "We decided t' shove Mom in there," is Istan, from the incubatory bouncer. The former looks a little put out after a long moment's contemplation of the Weyrlingmaster's oblique comment, but Saji is apparently entertained: an elbow is applied and a laugh drawn out from the young woman. "Somethin' like that. Th' puppy ain't bad. He's small." And dumb, and sweet. Something else in Ashkir's comment gets an upward wing of her eyebrows, and she says, "Three? Someone else been' shovin' unfortunates off on you, too?"
Ashkir sighs softly and nods his head in agreement, "First it was just the blue that Rocco and I found, then you shoved that green on me. And then, next thing I know, Pippa's shoving another egg on me and it hatches and I have /another/ hungry mouth to feed!" Ash sighs quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I didn't even care much for firelizards, either. I'm hoping they come in useful sooner or later, least they're good for company and sending letters." Not much else than that, anyway. "How big is Dip supposed to get anyway? He seems pretty big for a puppy. I don't know much about canines, just glad I don't have something that slobbers all over me."
"How useful they are depends on how well y'train 'em," Siraji says, with an upward, smirking glance that gets her a pulled face that transforms into a sloppy grin. From around her waist to over her shoulders, Tuss shifts his monkey-limbed hold, draping over her. "Don't know," Saji admits, with a shrug that does nothing to dislodge her skinny-narrow cape. "Fink 'e's only getting a li'le biggah," the singer opines, amiable expression furrowed in contemplation. "Yeah, prob'ly," Saji says after a moment. "I mean, he was pretty fuckin' small when we found'm."
Ashkir considers the canine for a little longer, "So you don't think he's going to get much bigger than that?" He asks, jerking his thumb at the puppy in question. "I've been trying to train them, my oldest blue is getting pretty good at delivering my letters to my dad and my brother." A hand rubs at the back of his head, "I should get going though, lotsa work today, and I need to get started on my robes before Kanga gets on me for being lazy." He offers a wave and heads towards the bowl.