Fort Sea Hold - Main Hold
It may be a minor Hold but it's well run and well kept… for a coastal hold.


Someone should have been suspcious when Ha'ze volunteered to come on this particular excursion. There are more riders than normal, because the weyr isn't TOTALLY stupid, and so maybe that's why they did let him come. This time, he's totally all knitted up as a full rider, Thunderbird knot and all. But, uh, when the excursion moves forward he's going to snag a small group of Candidates, claim they needed the restrooms (or whatever they are called on Pern) and ABSCOND with them, around a corner and out of sight. "What are your names?" A demand.

Alister isn't entirely surprised when he's culled from the herd, let's be fair here, but neither was he necessarily looking to ditch the rest of the group. He still manages to look like a senior on ditch day, though, due to a combination of being recently shaved (baby faaace) and making a conscious effort not to stand around like a guard. "Alister," he answers, despite the fact that he knows Ha'ze knows this, and throws up finger-guns (finger-flamethrowers?) and a grin.

Gabriela is entirely suspicious of this whole shindig. Then again when isn't she a little wary of anything shady? Ha'ze is most certainly shady in her book. Still the outing has been fairly interesting thus far as she wanders along like a lamb to slaughter with the rest of the wide eyed Candidates. Only to find herself herded around a corner for no good reason. And then the bronzerider has the audacity to demand her name?! She cocks a hip and smirks at him with a raised brow, "Oh now you want to know eh?" He couldn't be bothered to learn it in all this time.. she's got to give him a smart remark. White knot or no.

Lucy, perhaps not as appreciative as she should be at having her day interrupted with an impromptu bathroom trip, leans back against that corner wall and crosses her arms over her chest, answersing in a clipped tone, "Lucy."

Beyrl wanders along, the group following like lambs, the odd and cranky one called Ha'ze. He slithers up against the wall, until back presses firm against it, and relaxes there, with sleeping firelizard curled upon his shoulder. "I am known to all as Beyrl." he answers as well. Curiousity sets in as to the nature of this event, but he's of the same mind as the others. Suspicion.

"I know it. But everyone needs to." So it was more a… introduce them to one another and not Ha'ze not giving a crap and forgetting their names? "You," pointing at Beyrl, "need to not talk like that or you're going to get stared at. Some shiz is going down in this hold. They know us," a finger wave at his knot, "But they don't know you. So. Give me your white knots, you are now sailors come in on the last boat. You two," pointing at Gabriela and Alister, "and you two," Lucy and Beryl, "are partners." An upraised eyebrow, because yes, of course they are. PARTNERS. "You are to go into the hold, and wander around till they catch you and toss you out. See what you learn."

"Sailors," Alister's expression is kind of flat in a way that indicates he's really desperately unhappy, but really determined not to let it into his voice, "or fishermen, there's an overlap but there is a difference." Trust him. He doesn't wait for the answer before his face does a thing, a combination-twist of dissatisfied and resigned. He pulls his knot off, and moves toward Gabriela with a sigh.

"I'd like to hear you say it then," Gabriela remarks almost under her breath. ALMOST. She and Ha'ze have a history of pulling one another's chains and she has no shame about it what so ever. Despite that fact she does doff the white knot when he demands that she do. From what she's garnered about him he'd just take it off with force if she didn't. "How come I can't stick it in a pocket? I know you well enough to wonder if you'll give it back." She'll do what he wants but she'll give him crap about it. Does he really expect it any other way? "C'mon Alister," she nudges him as he moves toward her and grins. "You can teach me something new."

"Are you fuhreaking kidding me," Lucy murmurs under her breath, fingers working to loosen her knot and hand it over to the bronzerider. She looks at Beyrl grimly. "There is just no way in hell you're going to pass as a…" Pot, kettle…Lucy doesn't have the salty sea dog look down either. "Okay, try not to talk to anyone and I'll, I don't know, spit and stuff and we'll see how we get on."

Beyrl , with a sigh like a gentle breeze, hands over his white knot, with reluctance. "Fareware to that which granted me status beyond my trade." he mutters, and glances to Ha'ze. "I am used to gazes offered in lack of comprehension." Glancing over to Lucy, with a quirk of his eyebrow, raised in confusion, he replies to her quaint statement. "Though I find it perplexing that my mode of discorse should cause such ire, I shall refrain from much dialog, if that is your fervent wish." This is said with a tone as dry as the desert.

Ha'ze had totally opened his mouth to say something more when, oh look. Beyrl. Speaking. Again. He'll STARE at the man, then back at Lucy. "New plan, you two are TOURISTS. You two can be sailors." Emphasis on the sailor part, for Alister's benefit. "You're not suppose to know exactly where things are. Just don't act like you're from the weyr or admit you ar there. Look for traders or ship captains. We just need to know what is going on."

Gabriela picks up on the fact that this isn't your average kids challenge. "What's going on Ha'ze?" She eyes the Rider for a moment before sighing and shrugging her shoulders. "Never mind you won't tell me the truth." Holding out her knot at last she fixes him with a glare, "I really do want this back." Something off is going on here but she isn't able to pinpoint what. Looking up at Alister she cocks her head curiously, "How should I go about being a sailor exactly?" Traders are something she definitely knows how to spot.

Alister's expression says thank you while his mouth says "Awrite," as he hands over his white knot. Good thing he's wearing something other than his guard's uniform, although the fact that he tends toward clean, militaristic lines isn't really doing him any favors. Beryl gets a long-stare eyeing, then a laugh and a, "Yeeeah, nope." He pops the p. He also reaches both hands up into his hair to muss it, unbuttons a couple of buttons and sloppily rolls up his sleeves; he doesn't quite have the forearms to pull off that he sails for a living, but they're not far off. "If anyone asks," he tells Gabriela as he turns and gives her a once-over, then reaches out to intentionally muss her as well, "We're from Breakwater, originally, on account of how I actually am, but we're new-hired, which explains why the shell you don't look anything like a sailor." As for her question, "Just lemme do the talking for a bit first, 'til you get the hang of it? Talk," he frowns, fidgets with her collar, "lazy, but not stupid."

"Beyrl, my fervent wish is to not get our asses handed to us while we're out on the docks. Oh…okay. Never mind. Tourist is easier. Oooh, we can pretend we're shopping…actually, there are a few things I could use while we're her." Lucy rocks herself forward from her lean on the wall and brushes some dust off her posterior. "Spitting's a filthy habit anyway." She cuts a brief glance at Alister.

Gabriela allows the fussing with her hair and has to force herself not to fix it back. In her mind's eye she allows herself to remember the days of rolling in the wagons. Times on the docks bartering and sighs. "I'd make a better Trader myself I got a feeling. Or a dock lizard." Let's face it for all she's a tiny tiny woman she's got a set that'll seduce some. Ha'ze. Ahem! "Breakwater got ya. I'll be the daft girl what followed you. Can't stand the thought of being alone," flutter eyes. "Kidding." Shutting up she waves for him to lead where she will follow.

Beyrl gets eye daggers from all sides, attempting to pierce his soul with the dull repetition of bland phrasings. He shrinks back slightly, unconciously. Yet, this is how it is to be, and so he focuses on Lucy as she dictates this particular daily chore. "Shopping..?" His brain derails. On one word. The one thing less interesting then watching flowers bloom. Especially with one of the fairer sex. His brain, now temporarily broken, can only make his head give an accepting nod.

Alister snaps his fingers at Gabriela, points. "That's better. Trader who rolled into Breakwater, fell for my dashing smile," it's not really dashing: it's appealing and more than a little bit endearing, especially as he good-naturedly flashes it at his erstwhile partner. "Came with me next time I left port. Easier," he explains, fluffing her hair one more time so she's a bit more windblown, "closer t' what you know, and good reason you don't know everyone if someone asks." He slants a glance toward Ha'ze, then leans in and admits, "Prob'ly won't. But it's easier to keep suspicion down if you got it all right in your head."

"This was a bad idea." Ha'ze is just going to throw that out there but it was HIS bad idea. "If you guys find new clothing it is PROBABLY a good idea. Just… look, don't get hurt. Don't start any fights…" a glance over at Alister, "Alister, you can start a fight if you want. And Gabriela there. Just be careful, she throws stuff." SEE SEE HE KNOWS YOUR NAME. Shaking his head he begins to walk back towards outside the hold where he will WAIT. No, if anyone asks, he didn't get permission from anyone to do this, so Th'ero might kill him if they come back hurt.

Gabriela grins and nods her head, "Trader I can do." Reaching up she takes that mussed hair and curls it over before pulling what looked l like a button decoration on her skirt off. Turns out the 'button' is a hairpin. Her shirt comes up and two buttons are undone so the top can tie around her midriff with just a scant flash of skin visible when she moves. The quaint small female is quickly morphing into a recognizable woman of Trader design. "Wish I brought my gitar. Oh well." Glancing over at Ha'ze she laughs softly. "You are always a bad idea gorgeous. And I've yet to feel a desire to throw something at Alister here. He's nicer'n you." Granted if she's given a reason..

Beyrl, Daralyn and Lucy's half continues here: Does This Make Me Look Fat?

This is not the Weyr Approach. This is a common dining area that serves the people visiting the Hold. There are all types here, crusty traders, beligerant sailors, pretty holder girls pretending they're not flirting…. In short, it's a perfect place to come snooping after information. There are quiet corners if one can get close enough, where people talk. There's just… an undercurrent of tension.

By the time Gabriela follows Alister into the Hold, one shoulder is bare and skin is flashing all over the place. Not unlike the females present in here already. See how that works? Looking like she's fresh off a wagon train she meanders along after Alister with a sultry tilt on her lips. Looking for all the world like a recently bedded and happy about it female who is hot on the heels of her current love interest. Poor man. She really doesn't even know him like that. If she's grossing him out though she hardly cares. This is a challenge and nothing more. Scanning the tables from her position she notes the different dialects coupled with different clothing styles present of those seedier types. Spying one table where things appear OFF. Not that she looks over directly or anything. Mama Jhithana raised no fool.

By the time they're well apart from the group, Alister's beat-cop stride has morphed into something more fluid, more rolling, distinctly less land-bound: it's a bit out of place on land, but it stamps him clearly as fresh off a boat and familiar on the water better than even the rest of his prep. There's something fond if not quite besotted in his expression every time he looks over at Gabby, appreciative without being possessive. It's backed by the way that he lets her wander a little apart from him, drifting nearer now and then to draw her attention to something, or just — it appears, anyway — for the sake of touching her. It's one of those second kind of passes that has him asking, "See anything y'like?" with upraised eyebrows in the hopes that she'll catch on to his actual meaning: see anything we should be checking out?

Over there, settled at a table, there is a particularly serious pair. If they can get close enough they might hear part of the conversation. "You said that if we…. then they…." "No, I said that if you … then …. rummors are getting out." "We should have killed…" "No. Look we have the…." And something that should look rather familiar to the pair, a counterfiet weyr-knot, and trader knot, and look, even one that looks like a Fort Sea Hold steward knot, get flashed. But only if they're looking at the right time.

"I like th' look o' that drink there on that table." Gabriela slants a glance at the table near the pair she'd spotted. The clothing is wrong for the accents in the voices. This is one area that Gabby excels in as she's traveled all over and then some with the Dealyr's. She leans in and brushes her breasts against Alister's arm with a sweet smile. Tipping up on a toe to whisper sweet nothings in his ear. "Their dialect is all wrong. The greasy one with the trader knot.. I know him he's /not/ from the Clan his knot indicates." She follows up her words with a smile of promise for things to come later having nothing at all to do with the words she spoke.

"Just the drink y'like the look of?" It's teasing, not quite a leer but still flirty, still enough to imply that for all they are clearly together, there's a chance that they might do things apart. You know, things. Yeah, those kind of things. (Or they might do them together, with all the wink-nudge implied in that statement). He steers them toward the table, the one indicated, and leans in to brush her hair back from her ear and mouth it — or that's what it looks like from the outside, as he says, "That's not one of the Weyr's, either," and then, "don't stab me for this," as he pulls away. Don't stab him for what, Alister what are you doin —. Oh. What he's doing is propelling her forward toward the group with a resounding smack of her ass, and enjoying the view (of her posterior, and more importantly, anyone who looks up at the action) for a moment before rolling after her.

Their display gets more than a few hoots of laughter from some of the more innocent-sailor/trader types biding there time here. And more importantly? The two malcontents, after a glance in their direction, dismiss them completely. Those fake knots get stashed away in one of their pockets, and they bend their heads low together to keep talking. "But what if someone…" "We took care of the last one. And tha damned weyr…" (…. for things they get super quiet on) "Fine but what if they… and we get caught?"

"Well" Gabriela looks all coy and giggles. As though she just might be interested in more than drinks. Her expression remains smooth for all her mind wonders what she is going to stab Alister for later. And then.. he smacks her ass and she laughs heartily. Tittering and wiggling for effect as the innocents hoot and carry on. There is a mild possibility she might sew him to his cot while he sleeps for that one. She'll weight out her options later. For now she plants that butt on a table edge and scoots a chair out with a dainty foot. Leaning just so to give a good view of what cleavage she does have as she invites Alister into a seat. Her ears picking up on the pair not wanting to get caught at something to do with the Weyr. Is this something to do with Ha'ze and the lies he'd once woven? It does give her pause to think as she lifts the drink and sips it. "Tasty." Lip smack.

Alister masks his relief both as he remains un-stabbed and as they're easily dismissed as unimportant, though he doesn't ignore the men blithely ignoring them. He shoots them an 'eh, eh, ehhhh?' look with his eyebrows that gives him a chance to try to commit their faces to memory, then plonks down into the seat Gabby's kicked out for him. "Yep," he manages to lace it with innuendo as well as turn it cheeky, popping the p so it's nearly punctuation in its own right, "shore is." Of course, he's not looking at the glass, he's obviously ogling her tits, and kicking up his feet onto the tabletop beside her. It puts his back to the men and their conversation, but also puts him closer to it, where he can listen to them while Gabriela watches, under the cover of watching him.

This time, the pair don't quite escape the notice of the two men. Alister's LOOK sends them into quiet talking, and suspicion sinks in abruptly. "Shut up." The swift words stops the conversation. A head jerk towards the pair, and both men are now looking at Alister and Gabriela, suspicious.

Gabriela opened herself up to be manhandled when she took on this persona. The disturbing question one might ask is: Is this a persona or has she been putting one on since she got to the Weyr? For sure she looks for all the world like she's enjoying herself. Just a vapid young Trader girl hot for Alister. As the two behind him snap their maw's shut and start eyeing them she looks at them dead on. With a come get me grin she runs her tongue against the edge of her glass slowly before licking her lips. Obviously sizing the pair up for the kind of FUN she's been playing at this whole time. The suspicious glares seem to put her off and she shrugs a shoulder as though assuming they aren't up for tipping a mark for a tumble. "You know what I want tonight?" She eyes Alister and speaks where the suspicious pair can clearly hear, "That redhead we saw on th' dock this mornin'. Think she's 'round here?"

Alister can't see the men behind him, but he can see Gabriela's body language change and can hear them go quiet; it's clear on his face (which Gabby can see) that he's working on formulating an exit strategy — when she comes up with one instead. There's a moment's gratitude that flashes clear across his stupid attractive face, but it's quickly channeled into something both adoring and laviscious. He drops his feet with a thud, and pushes himself up out of his seat, reaching for her as he does. "Lady's choice," he says, delighted, "an' a hunt for th' redhead from th' docks. Looked like she'd be up for anythin', didn't she?" he speculates out loud as he gets his hands on her and pulls her off the table, providing enough support that she won't fall — well, okay, providing enough support that when she stumbles it will result in her, and her tits, all cozy-close to him. "What did I do to deserve you," is loud enough it might still be picked up by someone else, whispered into her ear as he pulls her away from suspicious men, and off to reconnoit — er, to look for that frisky redhead. It's not a lot to report back to Ha'ze when the group re-forms, but it's a start.


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