Who D'had, F'inn, K'zre
What A chance meeting of Thunderbird Wingriders
When Summer-Autumn - Month 8 of Turn 2720
Where Center Bowl, Fort Weyr

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Fort Weyr - Center Bowl
The wide center of the bowl is often bustling with activity as riders come and go. Off westward can be seen the entrances for the candidate barracks and the guest weyr, while to the east is a large opening that leads into the dragon infirmary. The bowl stretches off both to the north and to the south, where the sheer stone walls rise steeply to the sky.

The bowl, especially this close to the caverns, is often busy enough with people going here and there as they see to their duties and filling their bellies. Today is no different, a coolness in the air hinting that autumn is drawing ever nearer. Once such person passing through is D'had, the old bluerider not having run into anyone directly yet as he makes his way out of the caverns distracted, likely by conversation with his lifemate.

F'inn has just gotten back with Thunderbird from dealing with a fire at one of the outlying cotholds. Despite being covered in soot and filthy, the young bronzerider is laughing as he walks with the wing, one arm waving in an airy gesture before cutting toward the ground like a knife. "I thought I was de-" unfortunately, whatever he was going to say is lost when he accidentally clips the blue rider with his hand—fortunately, it's the shoulder, but still. "Fuck.. sorry!" Clearly, distracted is the mode for the day. Coming to a halt, F'inn waves the other riders on, pale blue eyes, standing out sharply from the soot on his face, sweeping down to D'had's face. He's a tall bugger, our F'inn. "My fault… I was not paying attention."

D'had blinks, turning sharply towards whatever it was that caught him. "So-," he starts to apologize, cutting himself off at little more than the first sound of the word when F'inn beats him too it. He's not exactly short, but he does have to look up to meet the bronzerider's face. "Neither was I," he assures younger man. "You just come from..?" he asks then, taking in the other's appearance with a nod in the direction the cothold is located.

F'inn flashes a lopsided smile at the simultaneous apologies, one and raising to scrub over his face— An act that ends up with the soot being smeared up into his hair and ending in wild streaks ala highlander across his face. "Huh? Oh! Fire in the woods up at Breakwater Hold," he provides. "It was pretty bad.. But," Pausing a beat, he slants a glance toward the bowl, just to make sure his weyrmate is not sneaking close enough to overhear him. "We got to repel smack into the center of it." Which, from the flash of white teeth, and the clear glee dancing in blue eyes, he relished. "It's under control now, but we're still keeping an eye on it."

D'had can't help but smirk at the other's rush of what they had to endure during that mission. He knows that feeling all too well. "That's the one," the bluerider replies having heard of it but few details as of yet, a frown flickering for that 'pretty bad'. "Good," he notes, nodding to the fact that things are under control now. "Flying sweeps up that way this afternoon," he adds perhaps to clarify the question that follows. "Anything we should be keeping an eye out for?"

"F'inn, by the way, rider of Bronze Nymionth." In the wake of the introduction, F'inn's smile broadens into an easy grin, one hand thrusting out toward the older rider. It's the question, though, that has his chin tilting up in the general direction of Breakwater Hold. "Smoke mostly.. Well, definitely fire," he adds with a quietly mellow laugh. "Got dry up there over the summer, so we'll be keeping an eye on it for a bit yet. Be careful, though, if you see smoke, there's been murmurs about renegades moving around that way, as well." And smoke could easily be a campfire, although, he's pretty sure that D'had knows that.

"D'had, rider of Blue Siebeth," the other replies, returning the greeting as stretches out a hand to F'inn's with a healthy grip, released as quickly as its given as the formality of the introduction ends. A name the younger man may or may not be familiar with. He nods a bit more at the additional details that are provided, "Good to know," and yes, that much he realizes - about the smoke. "Hard when it gets that dry."

F'inn tilts his head slightly at the name, clearly one he has had before, but he cannot, with the rush of adrenaline still running high, place it. "Well met. There have been few fires so far," F'inn agrees with a frown that indicates that 'a few' are a good deal more then they are used to. "We put a break in place between the hold and this latest one, but.." Frowning faintly, he shakes his head, exhaling a breath. "Hopefully it doesn't become an issue any closer to the Hold itself. I'd make sure and bring repelling gear, just in case, though." Course, F'inn has a thing for repelling, so Nymionth is /always/ sporting the appropriate gear. "You're just coming back to Fort, yeah?" Cause he KNOWS he knows that name. "Was it Xanadu?"

D'had chuckles. Clearly the boy has a thing for repelling. He nods all the same. "Break should help, long as its wide enough and the wind keeps down," he replies, thinking out loud perhaps. A shake of the man's head follows the bronzer's guess, "Ain't never been at Fort before," he clarifies. Not at in the traditional sense of being a rider there that is. "Visited a few times, but yeah, Xanadu." That is where he was from.

"Maybe check it out? If you have time when you are out that way?" F'inn knows he's young and relatively inexperienced compared to a lot of the riders. He's not at all shy about admitting it might be wise to have a more experienced eye on the matter. "Just.. you know, to make sure it's wide enough." Pride? Not an issue with F'inn, not when lives are potentially at risk. "The break is wide, but.. It's hard to tell, you know?" In the wake of the words, he brushes his hand over the back of his neck, smearing soot everywhere as he flashes another lopsided smile. "I love Xanadu," he admits. "We go down there for surfing alot."

D'had nods. "If I have time," he agrees easily to that. They both know well enough how time can be the key in those things. If something's changed there might not be time to stop and check on it. Or if other, more pressing, matters come up between now and then. "Loved it too," the bluerider replies of his former home, though there's a hint of something more behind those words, a sadness of sorts that's likely concealed enough not to be noticed. "Still visit now and then," he adds, voice changing subtly again to return to the conversation at hand. "But it is good for surfing, or so I've been told."

"It's amazing for surfing," F'inn assures. If he noticed anything at all in the other man's face? He's neither commenting on it, or letting it show. Somethings are private and he gets that. "And yeah, if there's time," is added as he drops his hand and cracks his neck. "I mean, I think it's probably fine, but…" A second look is almost never a bad thing. "You surf," is asked with, perhaps, just a bit more surprise then F'inn might have intended. And while, under different circumstances, he might have invited D'had to join them next time they head down that way? That hint of 'something' keeps him from doing so. "You have to try skiing once the snow hits, it's just as much fun…" And from the look of pure relish in pale blue eyes? Probably a bit more dangerous.

D'had laughs, a deep chuckle at the assumption. "Me?" Surf? "No, but I know plenty of kids to seem to find it fun." Surfing however is not his thing. "Don't mind the beach none though. At the mention of skiing that follows however he shakes his head, "Can't say I have in a long time." Xanadu's beaches aren't exactly known for their skiing after all. "Could be fun to try again though." F'inn might just talk him into that yet this winter.

Did K'zre know that his weyrmate was off fighting forest fires? Probably. In fact, make that 'definitely'. Just as he almost assuredly knows that he's returned. But work is work, and while he might have pitched a fit about not being out there too, his skills were needed elsewhere. In this case, the infirmary. Dressed in scrubs, and scowling something fierce, he exits the infirmary by way of the dragon's entrance, and while his first instinct is to look to the sky, it is only a moment or two before he's looking around the bowl instead. Dragons. Great for disclosing locations and, in this case, apparently giving F'inn away because the healer's steps head unerringly in his direction once K'zre's sights are on the ground once again.

F'inn flashes a broader smile his chin dipping in a firm nod as he instinctively reaches out to clap D'had on the shoulder. "You are so coming skiing with us," he decides. "It's the best, we get as high as we can in the mountains, set up a camp, do a little hunting.. Well," he corrects. "We used to do a little hunting, now we bring supplies along with us." And from the flicker of amusement in his eyes, there is clearly a story in that change of events. "You're all set for the winter, yeah? Be sure you have furs stocked up in your weyr, it gets cold faster then you think." Course, some of the newer weyrs have better heating. F'inn's? Not a chance, just a big old hearth and more furs then one could imagine. Unfortunately, F'inn is unaware of his weyrmate's approach, pumped with adrenaline and all to happy to talk off the ear of the bluerider he'd accidentally 'collided' with.

D'had sends a glance to that hand on his shoulder when it happens, but says nothing of it. It wasn't expected to say the least. "I hear a story in that," he prompts, but doesn't push for any further information on the matter just now. "Yes," he says simply in answer to that question of being ready for winter, "Can change in a hurry," he agrees, going on to add, "Was in Telgar before Xanadu." He knows about cold too. A snort at the mention of heating, apparently his lacks that as well. While he might have a chance at spotting the greenrider approaching, having no for knowledge of who he might be there's no reason to take note of someone else happening by.

It is not doom and destruction that is about to rain down upon F'inn, despite what K'zre's scowl might suggest. And while he might be moving with purpose, there is little in the way of stomping. Curiosity comes at the sight of the bluerider, K'zre's gaze skipping between soot-covered weyrmate and his unfamiliar companion. It is a look that might linger a little longer than is appropriate but at least holds no malice. Where others might offer a greeting, K'zre's opening statement comes as a complaint, a pointed and entirely unnecessary, "You're filthy," that is no doubt meant for the bronzerider. A moment to frown at F'inn, and then he's sliding his gaze toward D'had once again. Frown. "You weren't fighting the fire, were you?"

F'inn exhales a laugh at the words, his brows—covered in soot- rising and falling in a playful twitch. "My weyrmate's dragon is very… Seh's very gentle. Last time we went camping K'zre killed a rabbit and her entire world was shattered. We had to have a funeral for the rabbit." Course, from the impossibly fond smile on his lips, it's pretty clear that F'inn doesn't mind indulging Yasminath's gentler nature. "Took hours for Nymionth to calm her down and take her mind off it." Course, his hand spills away relatively quickly, his arm sweeping out in a broad gesture toward the surrounding mountains. "That's the beauty of Fort. Things change rapidly, we're constantly tested by nature. I am," is uttered in response to K'zre's words, F'inn's smile immediately broadening as he slings an arm around the greenrider's shoulder. "And now you are. D'had, rider of blue Siebeth, my weyrmate, K'zre, rider of green Yasminath."

D'had ahs, nodding as that reason behind no longer hunting is explained. "I can't imagine how hunting lessons would go with one like that." Happy he never had to find out. As for filthy? D'had hadn't noticed that of F'inn or perhaps he didn't notice because it was made clear so quickly where the younger man had come from and so with that wasn't unexpected. The greenrider is met with a raised brow of his own, that is until that introduction is given. "Well met," he adds simply given F'inn has already supplied his name.

It was not a fun time (hunting lessons with Yasminath). But whether K'zre had the great fortune to not hear their discussion, or he is choosing to ignore it, no comment is forthcoming from the greenrider in that regard. It is probably for the best. "I'll take that as a no," he decides. A grimace and a flinch, and he adds a polite enough, "Well met, D'had," back once introductions are made, shifting slightly beneath the weight of his weyrmate's arm. He probably has manners, somewhere in there beneath the scowl. Maybe he's just a little slow in locating them because he does add, in a tone that is somewhat abashed, "I didn't mean to interrupt. But I heard Nymionth was back." And he couldn't help himself.

"He's heading out on sweeps in the Breakwater Hold area," F'inn provides to his werymate. At the rest, that familiar lopsided smile traces over his lips, pale eyes crinkling at the corners as he draws K'zre in closer against his side. "I was going to clean up before coming to find you." But he got distracted, clearly. "Course, now you have to clean up, as well." Because he's definately shaking as much soot onto the greenrider as he can. He can't help it, K'zre is a fastidious creature and F'inn loves poking the bear. "D'had has transferred up from Xanadu," he provides to his weyrmate. "He's riding with Thunderbird, as well."

D'had hmms? "Oh, yeah, what he said," D'had replies when F'inn answers the question of the fire fighting for him. He can only shake his head in an amused sort of fashion for the pair of them. "Not interrupting anything," the older rider assures. "If I'd been in your place, I'da done the same."

"Oh." For sweeps? For flying in Thunderbird? Maybe it's for both. "Policing, or Search and Rescue?" is the follow-up question, curiosity getting the best of K'zre as he studies the bluerider. Although, perhaps the clarification is unnecessary given the task D'had is setting out to do. Blame Kez's distraction on the soot slowly migrating from F'inn to himself. The greenrider is certainly giving his weyrmate a few less than pleased side-eyes for it, nose wrinkled before he sighs the long-suffering sigh of one resigned to his fate. "It's only because—" A flicker of a frown. A grimace. A shake of his head, and he decides, "The infirmary has been busy." Whether that brings clarity or simply more confusion, it is al Kez can think to add by way of explanation.

F'inn is relaxed and smiling, finally coming down from the adrenaline high he'd been riding most of the day. "You got a letter from N'sir," he informs his weyrmate. "I left it on the hearth for you." Course, he frowns faintly at the mention of the infirmary being busy. "We had a few pretty injuries," he admits. "But I'm fine," he's quick to add. "Not so much as a scratch." Which is a miracle given what he'd been up to. "I figure we can grab food and haul it back to the weyr rather then cook." As he speaks, he lets his hand trail down K'zre's arm, pale blue eyes sweeping back to D'had. "If you do get a chance to check out the fire break and think it needs more work, have Siebeth let Nymionth know? I'll grab some of the others and head out there to shore it up."

"Search and Rescue," D'had answers that question easily. A frown following for the mention of the infirmary being busy. "Anything serious?" he returns. In other words, anything they should be concerned about. The man nods then when the bronzer notes injuries from the morning's fire fighting. "Sure," a simple agreement to call them back out if there's more work to be done there. "I should be heading out in not too long, and I'm sure you're more than hungry," the bluerider starts, aiming to take his leave of the pair.

"No." And on this, K'zre is certain. "Burns and some breathing issues from the fire," he admits. "But otherwise, nothing we wouldn't expect to see. Allergies. Minor injuries. A cold here and there." Nothing to be concerned about. At least, K'zre is not at all concerned. And even that scowl starts to lessen at F'inn's affirmation that he is fine, even if the bronzerider is still privy to a side-eye or two. And while he might not have much in the way of social skills, he at least picks up that D'had is heading off, because he offers a murmured, "It was nice to meet you. Clear skies," by way of farewell.

"Starved," F'inn admits. And as soon as the words are uttered, his stomach growls to make that point that much more clear. "It was nice meeting you, D'had," he adds as he glances at K'zre and tilts his head toward the entrance of the living cavern. Glancing back at D'had, his smile broadens, one hand raising to lightly tap his brow as he turns K'zre toward the living cavern. "Clear skies, D'had. Don't forget, skiing." Cause he intends to make that happen.

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