Who Doktah, Ibreily, Sygni
What Doktah finishes up chores. Sygni and Ibreily tinker with formulas.
When Spring of 2711
Where Lake Shore, Fort Weyr

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Fort Weyr - Lake Shore
This lake shares many features common to mountain lakes — a brilliant blue jewel nestled amongst the rocks. The waters are crystal clear, and the north shore slopes gently before abruptly falling away into the depths. This lake does have one significant differentiating feature, however. The south shore of the lake is a tumbled mass of rubble, rock and earth of an ancient rockslide smoothed only by the elements in the intervening years. This rubble, as well as the rather sheer east and west faces, makes for the north shore to be the only one easily accessible.
Springs arrival is noted by the disappearing lake ice. As it melts it breaks up into smaller icy bergs. These bob randomly throughout the choppy waters, slowly disappearing as the temperatures rise. They also frequently provide sport and entertainment for the bathing dragons. The emerging shoreline is inviting, though the water remains chilly for their human counterparts. As spring draws nearer to summer, the waters begin to feel quite invigorating with Rukbat's growing shine.

Dragon washing. It's perhaps the only chore Doktah dreads more than stable duty. There's still ice floating in the thawing lake, and Doktah is much less able to cope with the chill than the dragons are. With sunset upon the weyr, it's getting even colder. But the techcrafter has come prepared, with technology ready to solve yet another problem. Doktah is decked out in the latest wetsuit, a formidable shield against cold and wet. A mark on the suit suggests it was meant to go to the Dolphincraft, but who's checking such things? Doktah looks quite pleased with herself as she finishes scrubbing down a sleepy blue dragon at the shore of the lake.

Rest assured, Doktah - SOMEBODY KNOWS. Someone's (probably Zhirayr's) spidey senses are tingling, head lifting to the sky, just knowing beyond knowledge that something is missing. Blessfully, that person is not Sygni, nor her companion - no, the pair of girls are much too engaged in their own wayward plans as they make their way down to the lake, each holding a handle of a vaguely heavy-looking crate. "And then I told him what he could do with his fuses if he didn't like it," the tinier of the young woman drawls, lips twisted sideways in a sharp smirk. "A full mark per fuse bundle I ask you." Reaching a stretch of lakeshore that looks remotely clear, Syg drops her half of the crate, rolling shoulders to loosen them before glancing around. "I think this is good. Nothing too flammable, right?" Quick blue eyes seize on their fellow candidate, hand lifting in the air in an energetic wave before both palms cup around her mouth to amplify her shout. As though she needs help being loud. "Hey! Good—" Crap. What time of day is it. She has no idea. "Good day! Nice suit!"

Anyone who looks at Doktah's suit and knows who she is would probably be able to piece together what happened. Of course, if pressed, Doktah would insist she is just borrowing the suit. For an undetermined amount of time. She finally finishes scrubbing her latest 'customer', giving the dragon an approving little pat. "All done." That's when she hears someone complimenting her. She turns, a little smile on her face. "Thank you, I…" Then she sees who it is and turns a little red. "Ah…" There's a moment's stammering as she ignores her natural inclinations and actually shrinks a little further into the icy water. Sadly, vanishing into the cold depths of the lake isn't a realistic option. So she emerges and approaches to a distance where she won't need to shout. "I'm sorry about, ah, Rulayn earlier. She's like that." She says, rubbing at the back of her head to try to untangle her wet and unruly hair.

Freed from a mostly disaster-free afternoon in the Infirmary, Ibreily seems happy enough to wander down the lakeshore with their heavy crate, only huffing indignantly. "I hope you told 'im you could light them, too, once they were in place." Offended to the max, Rei grumbles, carefully easing the latter half of the crate into the sand. "As if you couldn't get it a third the price in Xanadu. Tch." Sniffing, the candidate clasps and shakes her hands, easing out the carry-ache and following Sygni's gaze up the beach. Shaking her head as to flammability, Ibby grins a wher's grin, all teeth and bright eyes. No drooling, one can hope. "Evening. Before dinner, yet." Grandly supplying the time, the harper raises an eyebrow, glancing between the pair curiously. "What is Rulayn doing, now?" She ventures, dropping to a knee to un-latch the crate, humming a cheery little ditty — definitely not one about a sailor who manages to light his ship on fire in the middle of the ocean. "How'd you get one of those suits out here? I thought Fort was about as backwards as a cothold." Mocking their current home, nice. "It looks fancy."

Sygni flashes Ibreily a grin to rival one of her brother's, or perhaps her own aunt's, too-wide and too-amused and entirely too-wicked. "Better. I snatched one off his infernal display and chased him out of the shop with it. His hands were covering his ass the whole way. It was the best thing." Eyes go distant, reliving the memory before she snorts indelicately, chin jerking in a nod for the going price at Xanadu. "Too right. Plus, I know a guy at Landing. I get a deal. He wanted to give his pitch anyways." Blue eyes glint flintily, indicating he perhaps wanted to pitch more than his fuses, but she manages to look grateful for the supplied time of day before her attention shifts back to Doktah. Sygni chuckles when the younger candidate shrinks back into the water, head tilting towards Ibby to explain. "She said it was a pity we were candidates, because apparently I'm attractive to some people." Some people being Doktah in the implied situation, even as she offers the Techcrafter a shake of her head when she draws closer, bright grin to show there's no reason to apologize, even as she says it aloud. "No need, I've been there, both as the giver and receiver of embarassing insinuations. One time we were at a bar and Ibby here was eyeing up this person across the way all night yeah? So I finally got sick of her mooning and walked up bold as brass and told 'em she wanted to bang. I don't know who was more embarrassed - them, or their betrothed." We know who wasn't embarrased, though, judging by Syg's toothy, unrepentant grin. "Needless to say, we're not welcome in that bar anymore." She perks for suit conversation, but Ibreily's got that on lock, so instead she sets about unpacking the contents of the crate, including a rather plain-looking tube attached to a long stick that looks suspiciously like a firework she's about ten seconds from setting off.

Doktah seems a little surprised to hear Ibreily's thoughts on the subject, but also pleased. She smiles and nods. "You're right about that. I've never seen a place more resistant to technological progress than Fort. But I'm with the TechCraft. I have… connections to more advanced equipment." And that's all she's going to elaborate on the subject of her stealing from the Dolphincraft. "It's lovely. I can actually wash dragons without freezing. How anyone else does this in the lake, I'll never know." Then the topic of Rulayn and her insinuations comes up, and the crimson color returns to Doktah's cheeks. "I… I mean, I'm sorry. I must have been being… I mean, not that I was… I wouldn't…" There's a quick shake of her head. Reset. Deep breath. Try this again with more coherance and dignity. Or try, anyways. "Look, Rulayn… knows me well enough. It's not like she was wrong, I just… I'm sorry if I was rude. I know I'm not… well, best leave it at that, I suppose." The firework tube is eyed a little worriedly. "Er… what's that?" Distraction!

"Good. Dumbass deserved it." Grumpily tossing her head, not even getting the short strands of hair away from her eyes, Ibreily snorts. Levering back up onto two feet, the candidate bounces a step or two back, eyeing the crate happily. The connection at Landing gets a brief flick of her eyebrows, but Ibby manages not to comment, instead blinking innocently Doktah-wards. She's so not going to comment, just now, instead rolling her eyes for the bar-tale. Heaving a dramatically wistful sigh, Ibby tosses a wink for Doktah, twinking. "They weren't so shy later, either one." The harper relays, looking defiantly Definitely Not Embarrassed. Unlike the other poor candidate. "You'd be surprised. High Reaches is pretty bad for tech. We're not allowed back there either, though, so." She shrugs, winces. "Telgar. Nerat. The water's not so cold, now. Try washing a sharding gold in the middle of winter. I'll never sharding go against Esi in a bet again." The harper is totally dancing around the touchy subject. Right up until she isn't. Grinning beatifically at their peer, Ibby waggles her eyebrows, stopping short of dancing over to pinch Doktah's cheeks. "Those candidate rules are a drag. Doesn't sound rude to me." She sympathizes, eyes bright, sliiiiding over and closing the lid on the crate again. Just in case. What's that? Nothing. It's nothing at all. Beam!

Sygni snorts and snorts hard for the subject of Fort being resistant to advancement, grumbling quiet words that sound suspiciously like 'no damn heating units' as she moves about in a crouch, jerking the stick down into the sand with a heave of her shoulders and a deft twist. There's another snort given for Ibreily's bar-conquests, but Sygni only offers a wry, "Too bad your mother caught you sneakin' out've their place. That was an awkward lecture." A huffed laugh. "And you should know better than to bet against my aunt. She outstrips us all." By the time her gaze works its way back up to Doktah, it's decidedly impish, both dimples flashing with a quirked up smile that can only be classified as 'smug.' She lets the Techcrafter go on talking because she's a horrible person, one elbow resting on her raised knee, chin resting on her knuckles, waiting out the fits and starts before she breathes out an amused, "You're adorable." And then, swiftly, "And like I said, no need. You are not and were not rude. We're cool. I am flattered. However, I'm also not what anyone would classify as relationship material." Crazy pyromaniac opportunist with a bad rep; not exactly what one brings home to mother. And she leaves it at that for now, too, gathering a handful of sand and chucking it up at Ibreily's face-region before flashing her teeth in a grin as she shifts back into action, hand drawing a flint and striker out of one of many pockets. "This is a prototype." For the much larger tube Ibby quickly conceals? Mayyyybe. "That firework I was talking about, you know. Wanna light it off?," she asks, offering the firestarting tools over to Doktah, expression entirely too mirthful to be sane.

Doktah turns red again at the stories that Ibreily relates, though it doesn't stop her from voicing a little defiance at her comments on the rules. "… They have those rules for a reason." Goodie two shoes type, maybe? "… I broke one of the rules last time I was a candidate. It went really, really badly." Hoping she can change the subject before anyone asks any follow up questions about that, she goes right along trying to stammer denials at Sygni. "I wasn't thinking about a relationship. Or… or… or anything! It's just Rulayn making assumptions again. She thinks it's funny that I'm… look, just nevermind the whole thing, okay?" This really is turning out to be an incredibly awkward conversation for Doktah. And that's /before/ she gets handed the impliments of a pyromaniac. She eyes them worriedly. "Er… how do I do this without creating a dangerous explosion…?" She asks, very uncertain.

Given the look on her face, Ibreily would really have rathered forgetting about her mother's role in that delightful encounter. "Shells and shards. If I never hear the phrase 'tag-team' out of my mother's mouth again, it will still be too soon. Worse'n Siggy giving us The Talk." The harper swears, looking a little bit sickly. Betting against Esi doesn't help much, but she's defiant there, huffing. "It wasn't gold, I tellya. That egg was blue. Ain't no reason it ever should'a been gold." The Istan comes out, and then dies right back down at the smug look on her cousin's face. Rolling her eyes fondly, Ibby opens her mouth — and gets a full mouth of sand for her troubles. "Hblfah! Fgh!" Chucking a spiral shell in retaliation, Ibby hacks at the sand for a few, eventually shuffling down to the water to wash out her mouth. Mmm, soapy dragon-watr. It does the trick, though, and the harper-candidate manages to look somewhere in the realm of unruffled, half-covered in water and all, as she turns to answer Doktah. "Sure. All rules have reasons. Doesn't mean there's never a reason to break 'em." She looks like she might grin, except they've been there, and the sympathy is at least real. "Happens. You can't always be perfect." Stoutly, Rei defends, somehow managing to not look too highly amused at poor Doktah's flustered-ness. "It's not funny. You're fine just how you are. Now, Syg," Brisk, ignoring the water still dripping, Ibby brushes sand off. "I forgot the ledger to record the reactions. I'll watch from down the beach and fetch it for ya." And she's off, jogging towards a theoretically-abandoned notebook.

Poor Doktah. She might get away with the suit theivery, but she doesn't quite get away with that comment. "Did you?," Sygni asks with a gleam in her eyes as she surveys the Techcrafter anew, as though reevaluating her estimation of the young woman. "Is that a story, or something that should go undiscussed?," she asks with no small amount of interest that the crafter has every right to deny. "And Ibs. It's your family curse. You always bet blue." But then there's more stammering, and Sygni looks infuriatingly amused again, almost as if this was a reaction she was trying for, smirking right up until she isn't anymore. There's an indignant chest-swell for cut off words, brow knitting and gaze zeroing in on the Techcrafter's face, looking for all the world like she might jump to Doktah's defense despite being the one making the situation even more awkward, but Ibreily beats her to the punch with words that are much more tactful than the outspoken pyro could ever manage, and so she nods and points up at the willowy candidate. "That." A beat of consideration, and words that are spoken so carefully that they might well be foreign to her, "I apologize. I shouldn't've teased. It wasn't right." And she actually means it. Someone needs to write this day down! Perhaps Ibreily will do it, as she goes to collect the ledger, earning a grateful look and a businesslike nod from Sygni as though she hadn't just forced her to go wash her mouth out. Snerk. "Please do. You ought to have time." She gives the retreating girl a wave before refocusing on Doktah. "Let's start all over. Hi. I'm Sygni, I make pyrotechnics for a living. I have a shop at Ierne that I totally didn't blow up a little bit right before they brought me here, so clearly this means I'm totally trustworthy when I say you shouldn't worry, and this is totally going to be easy. This is a flint, and this is a steel striker. If you want to, you're gonna lower them to right about here-" just in front of the fuse "-and strike. There should be a spark that will catch the fuse, and then we move ourselves out of explosion range just in case." Comforting, right? Up go the implements of pyromania again, one dangled from each pinched forefinger and thumb.

"It is definitely something that should go undiscussed." Doktah says in a tone that is likely intended to communicate that she doesn't want to divulge tthe details right now, but almost certainly implies that it is a story worth knowing. Not a story Sygni will learn the truth of right now, though! Doktah's feeling embarassed enough as is. Not to mention terrified, as she is now tasked with blowing something up. That wasn't on her list of things to do today. She takes the flint and striker, approaching the fuse with wide, worried eyes. "And… and you're certain about this?" After getting whatever confirmation she needs, she takes a deep breath and strikes the flint. There's a spark, and soon the fuse is burning. Doktah's eyes widen with terror. "What have I done?" The pyromania impliments are dropped and she runs for dear life to escape the explosion range. In fact, she runs out of sight altogether. By the time the fireworks go off, she's hiding behind cover somewhere. Skittish girl.

Sygni accepts that, if only because the Sane Mood is upon her and she is, on occasion, a benevolent soul like that, but the story will likely not be safe forever if she has anything to say about it. Regardless, she is going to take her victory where she can, handing over flint and steel and slipping back out of Doktah's way so the younger candidate can take her place, nodding encouragement emphasized by a firm, "Yep. Quite certain. You're doing great." And then the fuse is lit, and Syg claps her hands and steps back, expression one of manic glee. "Oh, very good, and on your first strike, too!" A tinkling laugh is all she offers to poor Doktah's terror, responding needlessly with a breathed, "Something wonderful" even as the girl makes like a tree and gets the hell out of there. Sygni backs up the requisite number of steps for safety, but that's all, instead turning her face up when the firework ignites proper, jetting skywards with a noisy 'fweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—' before booming loudly with a colorful spattering of blue and white sparkles and a ring of dark blue stars. A loud 'whoop' issues from the tiny woman, one fist punching the air as she trots back down the beach, heedless of onlookers or weyrside reactions as she bustles back to rendezvous with Ibreily to discuss.

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