Fort Weyr - Lookout Ridge
An open plateau of rock that's nestled on the northern face of the bowl wall, used to provide an ease of access to important parts of the Weyr; traffic here being minimal. Stonecut stairs lead down to the administration complex, while the bridge that adjoins this plateau spans across a gully to get to the central bowl wall, where the wing corridor can be quickly reached. A shortcut is also built up toward the Star Stones, so those without dragon can reach the long since used rocks.
Beyond the pathways and access routes, the view from this terrace is amazing. The eye has a good vantage point of the entire bowl below, from the hatching caverns, to the training complex, to the stretches of the central and southern most bowl. The rise of the mountain and the forest ranges can be glimpsed from here as well, distant images but outlined enough to distinguish where they start and end. Oddly enough there's a bench here, settled back against the bowl wall and angled to give the best view of the world beyond.

The weather is getting colder the later the season drifts further into autumn and right along towards winter. So far there's been nothing more then a few good hard frosts and the days still remain relatively comfortable if one is dressed against the chill. Such a morning has dawned, with the sun not yet risen high enough to melt the worst of the frost from ground and stone. Th'ero stands on the lookout ridge's plateau, dressed in his thicker riding black, grey and brown riding gear and looking as sombre as the stone around him. His gloved hands remain folded behind his back and his eyes turned to overlook the bowls below but distant in thought. Above him, Velokraeth is perched on the Star Stones, settled on his haunches with his tail flicking back and forth idly, looking as deeply ponderous as his rider.

Nyalle walks over from the bridge, dressed in a thick dress and a long hooded cloak in order to stay comfortable and warm. "Weyrleader," she greets him quietly, while from below the fiery queen soars upwards to perch on the Stones beside her mate with a soft rumble of greeting.

"Weyrwoman," Th'ero returns the greeting, equally as quiet and only partially distracted as he pulls himself back to reality from whatever thoughts are consuming him. "How're you this morning? Kayeth is well?" Standard conversation. Polite and somewhat formal and likely routine now for the two of them, only now Th'ero likely has an honest interest in her well being. It's been long enough now that he's beginning to thaw towards her. Above, Velokraeth whuffles sweetly to Kayeth as she joins him, shuffling aside to allow the fiery queen the best spot (and likely warmed by his body) before lowering his head and tilting it just-so to preen and nuzzle her as he does best.

Nyalle smiles gently at the Weyrleader, whom she is slowly warming up to as well. And it's about time, how long have they been the leadership pair of Fort, now? She steps up beside him to survey the weyr as well. "We are doing well, thank you. And you? Velokraeth looks to be in fine health." Which has Kayeth pleased, the queen settling and leaning against him, rumbling her contentment as he preens her. Opposite of her standoffish rider, to be sure.

Long enough that they'd best get on working out their differences! At least Fort has never truly suffered for the occasional times they butted heads and at most just fed the rumour mills when Th'ero, for whatever reason, had made Nyalle cry. Again. "Don't let him hear you say that or he'll be going on about it for days." Until he forgets. The Weyrleader does, at least, smile faintly. "But thank you. We're both doing well. Seems the Weyr is too. M'icha grumbles about the amount of Weyrlings but I see it as a good sign. Our numbers grow," Which can never be a bad thing, right?

Nyalle laughs softly, looking up towards their dragons once again. "I get the feeling," she says slowly, "that M'icha would grumble just as much about a lack of Weyrlings. He just likes to grumble." Or that's her experience at least. "Fort prospers, it is a good thing."

"You're probably right. Wonder if his newest Assistant Weyrlingmaster is prepared to handle his constant grousing." Among other vices. Th'ero sounds amused even if it doesn't quite show on his features. He nods his head to Nyalle, "Always a good thing. Shame about Steward Lycander though. Have you heard anything on that?" he asks and doesn't bother masking his nagging concern and suspicions over the old man's sudden demise.

Nyalle smiles. "Time will tell?" Shifting her arms, she looks out over the weyr once again, sighing and shaking her head. "I have not. He was a good man, it's a shame to lose him."

Th'ero nods his head again, "Time will tell." Though privately he's reassured to know that there are Assistant Weyrlingmasters on hand to keep M'icha in line. For all the good the Weyrlingmaster does, sometimes his approach to training is… a bit eccentric. To put it lightly! Now they speak of grimmer and darker topics and he sighs, "He was a good man. Perhaps overdue to retire." No say in the matter now. Th'ero's frown deepens. "It is a shame. Unusual too, don't you think, for a man to just drop dead like that, age or not?"

Nyalle tilts her head slightly, lifting a gloved hand to push hair beneath her hood. "Before I came to Fort I would have thought it normal, for a man his age to simply pass on. But now…" Fort has made her paranoid and suspicious. "Things are never that simple.'

Fort does that to anyone after time. Th'ero doesn't seem the least bit surprised that Nyalle is agreeing with him and perhaps is even relieved that she shares in his suspicions. "Journeyman Mirinda and other Healers are looking into it, aren't they? Zhirayr is our new Steward too. Wonder if he knew old Lycander well…" He shakes his head again, a grim look still etched onto his features as he looks out over the bowls again. "We'll have to wait and see. Maybe the man did just drop dead of a bad heart. Damn pity if that's the case."

Nyalle frowns a little bit. "He should have, being his Assistant for so long…and yes, the Healers are looking into it, trying to see what his true cause of death was."

"I suppose we'll have our answers soon then." Th'ero remarks dryly and for a few moments there is nothing but silence between him and Nyalle. Just the sounds of the Weyr stirring awake below and of the occasion whuffle or rumble from above as Velokraeth entertains and likewise basks in Kayeth's company. Has the Weyrleader dismissed the Weyrwoman without further word? Not quite, but there is one last thing he wishes to discuss before they part ways again. "I went to the Infirmary and saw Dtirae. Healers permitted a short visit. She's… not doing as well as I think they're letting on." Or he's being overly concerned. "The babe was born too early. He lives, but she is convinced he will die or not live for long."

Nyalle continues to frown, shaking her head slightly. "What do the Healers say about the babe?"

"I'm not sure, I didn't pry." It's not a man's thing to do, that's a woman's thing and he'll leave it to Nyalle to look into it in detail if the Weyrwoman wishes. As it stood, Th'ero's visit with Dtirae was an awkward one. He knew things hadn't gone well but he wasn't expecting this. "They have the child in a special spot of the Infirmary, not even with Dtirae. She cannot touch him. I was permitted to see him. He's tiny. Sickly. They say he's far more at risk for complications, being…" he pauses a moment to dredge the word up from memory. "Premature?" Did he get that right? "You should go see her. Even if just to say a few words."

Nyalle crosses her arms tightly over her chest. "She's not allowed to touch him? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I will go see her," and likely demand to know exactly why the baby is not with his mother - the most natural place for him to be.

Th'ero likewise spreads his hands outwards and with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I thought it incredibly strange too but it seemed to be necessary. If I understood Dtirae right, her son is incredibly fragile." That's the extent of his knowledge, apparently. Since he won't bring up how upset the goldrider was. He'll leave that for Nyalle to assume. "Good. I think it'll do Dtirae some good to have visitors. Support…" Just in case. His mood seems to darken a little and his eyes distant again in thought. "I best be off. I've to meet with my Wingleaders and go over the end of season reports. There's muttering about the storms of late on the coast…"

Nyalle frowns, shaking her head a bit and pushing more hair beneath her hood. "Hmm. I will go visit," she promises. "Clear skies, Weyrleader."

"Clear skies, Weyrwoman." Th'ero murmurs with a polite dip of his head. "We'll speak again tomorrow." As they do every day. Stepping back, he will take the stairs down to the stone bridge and walk over to the Wingleader's Lounge, where he will no doubt spend most of his morning in meetings with them. Such is the life of a Weyrleader!