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.

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A blue dragon gently circles in the sky above the bowl. The weather has been steadily improving from the horrible storms that had plagued Fort for most of the winter and sadly through a good chunk of weyrlinghood. Though today the midmorning air is clear and crisp and the wind is a bearable breeze. The temperature is still chilly but at least its not subzero as it has been. Jaicoureth and his rider lazily circle lower and lower until finally they are upon the ground. C'rus undoes the straps and climbs down off of his lifemate, "It could be worse…" he says in response to his lifemates unspoken question, "…any time I don't heave my guts out is progress right?" he asks his blue.

Bundled up against the cold, coat and hat and gloves all in black and charcoal gray, Tivaly stands out as a dark smudge against the snowy scenery, stepping out of the living cavern after a pause to watch her breath puff in front of her and disappear into that tolerable breeze. With a small, leather-bound book in one hand, she stops to take stock of the doings in the bowl, and - with the unconscious caution of those not raised around dragonkind - takes a partial step backward, pale eyes trained on the landing blue dragon. Although there's still an obvious, lingering wariness about a stiffened posture, although her eyes will frequently attend the dragon juuuuuust to be safe, there's also enough new certainty to let her lips pull askance, a half-smile at what she can overhear from the dismounting rider. Rather than interfere on what might very well be meant as a private conversation, she lifts her empty hand in a wave toward the bluerider, easily ignored if he's of a mind to do so.

There seldom are private conversations with with the blue. Jaicoureth has really failed to take note of the concept of privacy. He pokes his nose into everyone's business and then of course shares that business with every other dragon he meets, especially his brothers. C'rus gives his lifemate a pat on the shoulder and turns spotting Tivaly. Not having seen her around Fort before he gives her a wave in greeting and says, "Morning…" he says. Jaicoureth shakes some of the lingering snow from his claws one by one before he wanders in the direction of the young lady. New people are always exciting and he loves to meet everyone. C'rus, for his part, can sense that the lady might be uneasy. A feeling he can certainly relate too, "Jaicoureth remember how you wanted space when you were little. Sometimes people want space too."

No, it's fine. Surely. Tivaly will just… stand there, one more partial step backward when the dragonet approaches, making it possible that she could, say, dart back into the living caverns quite easily. Other than those little tells, she does appear to be keeping it together, and that partial smirk softens into the beginnings of a smile when the young man chimes in on her behalf. "Jaicoureth?" she repeats, looking from the rider to the dragon, dipping her head in a low nod to the latter. "That's a fine name for so fine-looking a dragon." Especially one staying a few meters away, ahem.

C'rus nods in both confirmation and appreciation for what the young lady says, "I think so too." He keeps his eyes peeled on the blue who is being as polite as he is able given his obvious excitement at meeting someone new. With the winter begining to move its way out the blue's energy has begun to return to him and he shifts his weight back and forth between his claws as he keeps his eyes peeled on the young lady. C'rus's eyebrows raise as the dragon indicates to him what he'd like his rider to say on his behalf, "Jaicoureth says hello, and that he likes your tall shoes." The rider himself just shrugs and smiles, "I'm C'rus by the way. It's nice to meet you."

With a glance backward and down, Tivaly lifts one of her tall shoes, glancing at the heel a moment as if to confirm - hey, would you look at that - she's wearing something worth mentioning. "Tell him that he has a fine eye for fashion, in that case," she answers with another dip of her head, graciously acknowledging the compliment. "And hello, C'rus By the Way. I'm Tivaly of Harper Hall." A gloved hand is offered out for shaking, though she does it without really drawing any nearer to Jaicoureth; fashion sense or no, he's about 30 times her size, so staying back here is just fine, thanks.

C'rus reaches out to take her hand with a smile and shakes it kindly before letting it go, "You don't have to worry about me telling him anything. He understands everything you say quite clearly…" Which is likely going to be a blessing and a curse for the young woman, because as soon as she mentions that she is from the Harper Hall any interest that the dragon might have had from her is instantly going to be increased ten fold. The blue takes a few steps toward her to really make sure that he gets a good look and begins to humm. From the chaotic mindvoice of his dragon C'rus is able to piece together what he wants to say, "He wants to know…alot of stuff." C'rus summerizes which causes the blue to turn to him and snort, "I'm sorry it was very fast. I can't catch everything. Pick one thing and I'll ask her." he replies to him before glances back to Tivaly, "He really enjoys music alot and also gets particular about how I translate what he says. He wants it to be exact, and if I don't he'll try to talk to you himself, and you probably wouldn't enjoy that." Jaicoureth leans over and nudges the shoulder of his rider gently to get him back on track, "Jaicoureth would like to know what instruments you play."

Closing her eyes for a second and scrunching up her face, Tivaly acknowledges that reminder - dragons understand speech just fine - as one she's heard before, smiling abashedly. Only to open her eyes at the sound of Jaicoureth coming closer, which changes her half-embarrassed smile to a vaguely alarmed one, looking toward C'rus to translate this new energy, her mouth forming a concerned O-shape while they have their dialogue. Did she say something wrong? Is it time to bolt? What instruments does she play? Buh? "Well," she begins, choosing her words with renewed care. "Most of them, with varying degrees of mediocrity. Is there a particular one he would," she pauses, looks to the dragon instead, "Is there a particular one you would like to have played?"

C'rus was in the same boat before he impressed, always looking to a rider to explain something to a dragon when in reality they understand things just fine. Jaicoureth continues to regard the woman, his eye color showing his excitment. To his mind there just aren't enough harpers in the world. C'rus looks to his lifemate for some sort of confirmation about what it is that he's looking for and apparently he recieves it because he responds, "He says he likes them all. I haven't found him to be terribly picky. You just have to set clear boundaries if you decide to play him something. Otherwise he'd just urge you to keep going. His manners are very good but not when it comes to music. You have just made a friend it seems…" Not that it takes too terrible much for the young blue to consider anyone a friend.

Having hoped for some sort of direction in this wholly unique (for her) situation, Tivaly again finds herself with a smile doused with chagrin at the unspecific answer. "Of course he does," she comments, blending amusement into the situation. As for making a friend, she adds, "I'm flattered, although ill-prepared, I'm afraid. All that I've brought with me at the moment is…" The book that she holds up, showing its dull front-and-back, a thick and well-used tome that doesn't look much like it's going to start making music. "Does he - mm, do you want to stay here, and I could go and fetch some pipes or something? It's a bit chilly out for a proper concert."

The situation may be unique for Tivaly, but it is not a unique situation for other harpers around Fort who are slowly all getting to know the blue dragon on a first name sort of basis. C'rus smiles to the poor girl, who seems to be getting alot dropped on her at once, "You don't have to do that. Especially if you are busy with other things." C'rus encourages her, she's certainly free to say no. It's good for his growing blue to realize that people, and other dragons for that matter have things of their own to do, "Right Jaicoureth? Because sometimes people are busy. Just like us sometimes. You wouldn't want someone to ask you to sing for them if you were going to a between lesson would you?" The man's lifemate looks between Tivaly and C'rus clearly a bit torn. Eventually though he bobs his head indicating his reluctant acceptance of the sitaution, "He says that it is up to you." And for added reassurance given the situation, "And it really is. I'm sure he'd love it if you did play but don't feel obligated."

Oh, goody. A way out. Tivaly, with both hands folded around the book, says with honest apology, "You won't really be missing much if we give it a miss. I'm not actually that sort of Harper." And she trusts the two of them can figure out the difference between the musical sort and the sort that carries around old, leatherbound books while taking walks around the brisk, wintertime bowl of Fort Weyr. "So how about this," at which point she seems to be addressing them both, comfortable enough not to feel totally weirded out by talking to a dragon sans translator. "The next time I take a walk, I'll bring my pipes with me, and if we happen to run across one another…?" Sugar-coating this suggestion is the darling of a smile, the sort that probably got her out of a lot of trouble over the years (and will probably get her in to a lot of trouble in the years to come).

C'rus is well aware that there are all different kind's of harpers and he'd be pretty comfortable in his guess about what sort she was, though to the dragon there is really only one sort of harper and that harper is the kindt hat plays and sings. Jaicoureth bobs his head again trying to quell his sense of disappointment, though he does seem to be pleased at one thing, "He wants me to tell you that he thanks you for looking at him when you talk to him." At this the dragon bobs his head once more, "Sometimes he feels that people don't look at him when he was the one that asked him the question or wanted to speak with them but instead look at me." The dragon is a bit of a quirky fellow, "I'm sure that he will be happy to take a rain check." he says with a smile.

"You're welcome. And I do hope you'll forgive the people that don't follow suit. It is a little, mm, peculiar." But Tivaly makes the effort, and she mostly succeeds, the conversation flowing smoothly enough through C'rus-the-translator. "But thank you for taking the rain check. Really," with a lowered voice, as though she confesses some secret that she doesn't want the empty bowl around them to hear, "it's because I need time to practice so that I don't embarrass myself." Regardless of what type of Harper, she's still clearly one of the ones that doesn't have a shy bone in her body, as - now that the awkwardness has been dimmed - the whole encounter has left her with a renewed brightness: it's nice to be appreciated.

Jaicoureth doesn't hold grudges. There isn't a mean bone in the dragons body. The blue takes a few steps back and once he is safely away from the people he unfurls his wins and begins to flap, raising himself into the sky and flies off in the direction of the feeding pens leaving the pair of humans behind, "Sorry if he scared you. He's not used to people that aren't around dragons all the time. He mostly just interacts with the weyrlings and the staff." C'rus says to offer some sort of explaination, "It isn't easy when you are out of practice with something. I haven't gotten into an infirmary to work since I impressed."

Watching that takeoff, still with some hesitancy but also with the simple appreciation for something more magnificent than one's self, Tivaly waits until Jaicoureth is out of sight before turning to his rider, shifting her weight to accommodate the change in focus. "Don't apologize," dismisses rather than accepts C'rus's attempts to do so, and she lowers her head in the direction from whence she came, the living caverns, adding, "Were you headed in?" With the implication that she's likely to continue her stroll presently, but he's welcome to join her? "Ahh, then you're a Healer. Shall I imagine some malady that you can diagnose and cure for me?"

C'rus gives a shake of his head, "No. We were actually headed over to get him something to eat, but he's perfectly capable of doing that by himself and is indeed already doing so." He's free to take a walk it seems, "I am. At least I will be again when I graduate. Unless we end up finding ourselves going along a different path." Which could happen easily enough, "There is no need. I'm sure I'll get my chance soon enough." Patience is never easy but its part of his life for the present, "You must be new to Fort. I don't recall seeing you here before."

Tivaly nods understanding about the whole dragon eating thing - though she probably only has a vague notion of what's actually happening - and starts what looks to be a cold but unhurried walk around the perimeter of the bowl, treading carefully here and there where the ground is more ice than snow or rock, holding her book while she goes. "You're sure? I could conjure up a phantom elbow pain or mysterious headaches, just something to keep the machine well-oiled," she offers with an amused lack of sincerity, aware that she's being more frivolous than helpful. As for her newness, she nods once more; yep, he's right, she must be new.

C'rus walks along with the new harper and nods his head, "Oh yes. Very sure. I'll get my time soon enough and then it will be back to work. Not that there isn't pleanty of work to be done right now." The life of a weyrling is filled with all sorts of tasks, jobs and lessons, "I hope that you like it here. It's a good place to live. The people here are generally good folks and its peaceful…more or less." There is always something going on somewhere and complete peace is more than a little elusive.

"If you change your mind," Tivaly persists, bending her arm this way and that as she pretends to cope with an imaginary ailment, making a convincingly pained face all the while. No, not a musical Harper, but still a theatrical one. "And I'm sure I'll find Fort Weyr to be a suitable place to live for as long as the Hall feels I need to live here," she continues diplomatically, not yet venturing to guess what sort of characters might be awaiting her in the future. Instead, her focus is on the one she's met presently, so she prompts, "A weyrling, then? I confess, I have no idea what the life of a weyrling really entails." With an invitation in her voice, an opening where he can feel free to explain.

C'rus chuckles at her persistance, "I'll certainly keep that in mind." he says simply. When she asks if he is a weyrling he nods, "Yes that would be me, and of course the blue that you met as well." They are a team now after all, "At the moment it's largely about flying and practicing travel between. There are always lessons on history and dragon healing and such to go along with the physical training. At present there is also a focus on dancing and manners. In a very short period of time we will be having a formal dinner and dance that the weyrwoman is hosting so we are trying to not embarass ourselves." At least a good number of the male werylings are trying not to embarass themselves.

Ah, now there's genuine interest, and not just the polite sort that she can put on for the occasion. "Reeeeeally now. A formal dinner and dance, hm?" Tivaly looks both impressed and intrigued, sizing up the freshly minted bluerider anew, as though trying to paint him in the light of Gather finery and a dancing band. "And how does that progress, please? Are you finding it something that comes naturally, or have you discovered two left feet?"

"I think that for alot of us weyrlings we are finding that it isn't quite as easy as it looks, myself included. Jaicoureth is the real dancer not me." C'rus says with a shrug of his shoulders, "I'm sure that by the time the dance comes around I'll be passable. Probably won't be the best our there but at least decent enough not to embarass myself, Nyalle and my date." At least he hopes so, though at this stage its more hope than anything else.

Tivaly suggests, "Practice makes passable, then?" And she shakes her head, disliking the way that adage rolls of the tongue compared to the genuinely accepted verbiage. "At least, with dancing, you needn't worry about making a mistake that might find you lost forever in that terrible cold void, hm?" she continues brightly, throwing in a helpfully illustrative pirouette to sidestep a puddle of slush, a light-footed example of precisely why she brightened at the mention of a formal dinner and dance, despite putting the idea of her own performance on the backburner. That is to say: she obviously knows how to dance if not play.

There are certain things that a person is gifted in and others that no matter how long you had to work with it you would never be considered good. For this particular weyrling dancing is likely one of those things, "Sad I know, but honest. Especially since there just isn't that much time left to work at it on top of everything else." Gotta be a realist, "That is true enough. Though one wrong step and you can crunch your ladies feet. Thankfully I think my date will be understanding." He nods his approval at her own dancing ability, "You will be coming to the dance then I would imagine. You can dance and take all the pressure off of us."

"Or perhaps she'll wear fashionable steel toes?" As the next best thing to not minding. Alas, Tivaly's shoes are not steel-toed, and they have taken a bit of a dip in the slushier slush despite her best efforts (and her more twirly ones), so that she pauses to look down at the dampness creeping up from the soles of them. Which likely accounts for why her course begins veering back toward the caverns again, out of the cold, into where there are dry socks and warm hearths (where her book might get opened instead of just carried as a prop). "I would hardly be doing my duty as a Harper if I missed it. If only to report back to the Hall on the frivolities," she concludes with mock-severity.

"I could actually see her doing that." Though more as a fashion statement than a protection, "I'm sure that the hall will love hearing about everything. Weyrwoman Nyalle will throw a very proper party if my guess is right. I'm sure it will be very stylish and fashionable all around with fancy clothes and good food. I'm sure that you'd like her if you met her. And if you stick around long enough you will no doubt." Nyalle seems to get to know everyone eventually. C'rus too joins her on her walk back toward the caverns, having little else to do with his time at the moment while his dragon works his way through his dinner.

With the warmth of the caverns drawing near once more, Tivaly requests, "Do let me know if she does. I'll need to get the name of her cobbler and send a little of my business his way." With a quick shiver for dramatic effect, she pauses just outside the caverns and, turning to her companion for this icy stroll, offers a genuine, "Thank you for the company, C'rus. Now if you'll excuse me, I had better go defrost my toes." Toes onto which she bounces briefly, then immediately winces for having done so, silly girl.

C'rus nods his head, "I will certainly do so." the rider says. Harpers do seem to be dramatic all the time, at least some of the ones he's met over the turns are, "Have fun in the caverns. I'd best go and check on Jaicoureth to see if he's done eating and then its back into the air for us. It was a pleasure to meet you and I'm sure we'll bump into each other again." With that he turns to head off to the feeding pens and lets the young lady continue her journey into the warmth of the caverns.