Shallows By The Weyr

The calm lapping of wavelets conceal the gentle rising and falling of the water level as the tides move in and out. The sandy bottom is host to tenacious plantlife and fish, withstanding human contact and storms with equal serenity. The level of the water does not grow drastically until at least a good dragonlength out, but it is sufficient for the largest dragon to submerge completely before having to swim actively as the human counterparts would have to as well. Not far, the chimney spires, unique to Xanadu alone, rise out of the water, silent sentinels watching over the lake they call their own.

The change from spring to summer is a subtle one in the south. The days get longer and hotter, the cooling night rains become more infrequent, and avians and animals start to avoid the midday sun.

Obvious exits:

Weyr Beach Deeper Waters Stairs

You enter the cool water of the lake.

Riain trundles into the cool water of the lake.

Risly minces into the cool water of the lake.

Lyllya looks down at her pole, then over at Riain, and back to the pole again. "I don't know.. I don't think I can do this. I've never, you know." Sigh. Such is the price for being raised to be ladylike. "I don't even know what to put on that hook thingie."

"Neither do I," Risly echoes Lyllya, frowning down at the hook she gingerly holds in one hand. "Do you /really/ think we're going to catch anything, anyways? I'd think that fish are smarter than to bite onto a hook." She shudders delicately. "Ouch."

Riain is too amused by both to be sarcastic or make an insult; instead, she blinks several times to avoid laughter and waits a little to speak. "You put the worm on the hook. Here." The jar of worms was tucked under a sturdy arm, and now is extended to the pair of lady-like candidates. "Fish want food. You put out food, they'll go to it." Just like Riain.

Lyllya's eyebrows threaten to take up permanent residence in her hairline. "I have to /touch/ it?" Shudder. Twitch. "Eeewww..." Gulp. "And.. put it on that hook? Won't that hurt the thing?" Yes, now she has become a crusader in the rights of little brown worms. But, Riain being amongst those who know everything, the ex-weaver has little choice but to reach out a tentative hand, fingers going for a single worm amongst the wriggling mass. "Oh.. this is so disgusting...."

"A /worm?/" Risly repeats with disgust, eying the jar with dubious trepidation. "I am not touching one of those things. That is too gross. Who would want to eat a worm, anyways?" She sniffs, then makes her case to Riain. "Ew, ew. I can't touch that. Could you maybe just put it on my hook for me? I'd be ever so grateful. Or maybe I don't need a worm. Think I can catch things without one?"

Riain works double-duty advising both Lyllya and Risly, her own pole stuck into the sand beside her for the time. "It will hurt it, but not for long. The fish have to eat, and we have to eat." She's quite the Darwinist, and would rather eat than be eatten. Not that a fish could eat her. Maybe just nibble on her toes. "Risly, I'm sure you could catch one without."

Lyllya already has the wriggling worm in hand, though her expression is complete disgust. She's not going to buy that fish can be caught by hook alone. "Alright.. I suppose it's true." One quick movement places the worm on the hook, though the wriggler's position is a big precarious. "I just hope it doesn't fall off.. now.. How do I get it in the water? Just drop it there?" Yes, she is just that clueless.

"I could?" Risly perks. "Good. Then I just won't put a worm on my hook." So what if it diminishes her chances of catching things? "Oh. Yeah. Tell us about that," she adds, taking her cue from Lyllya. "What's next?"

"Give me a few, and I will." Riain retrieves her pole and hastily bedecks the hook with a worm. "I'll show you how to start, but I've never really fished in lakes, before. Normally just the sea." In other words, it's her disclaimer in case of failure. But she quickly flings the line out and stands still in the water, ignoring the water slowly drenching her skirt.

Lyllya gives a bob of her head and steps back from the water, holding her pole at the ready and doing her best to avoid that worm. "Thank you, Riain, I'd have been a total failure at this if it weren't for you." Hey, at least she can admitt it.

"You're the best, Riain," the picky, prissy holdergirl intones with a relieved smile. "And I'm sure you'll catch lots." That statement of confidence is not repeated about herself, however. Risly cants her head to one side, then curiously inquires, "Where'd you grow up, anyways? I don't like the sea. Makes me feel sick. But I usually manage to get rides." That's the benefit of both living near a Weyr and having the rank to demand transport -- not that Risly abuses it. Noo. Not her.

Riain blushes and mutters something that sounds like 'thank you' to both Risly and Lyllya, but hastily reassures, "Oh, I'm sure you would have done well without me. I just sped it up." For now, she's too flabbergasted to say anything rude, and so recasts her line twice -- preparing her answer, most likely. "I grew up at Fort Sea Hold."

Lyllya doesn't look quite so convinced. "Well, if you say so.. still, I don't know. I'd have probably thrown the entire kit into the water and waited for the fish to walk onto the shore." She's joking, honest. Risly is given her attention for a moment. "Where are you from? Oh.. and.. about that robe? If you really need someone else to make it.. I'm sure I can find time between chores. I just didn't know that we could get someone else to do it and not get in trouble." She's never done this before, you see.

Sally appears from **BETWEEN**

"I don't think so," Risly replies with a little laugh. "I wouldn't be fishing if it wasn't for you two, in fact. Fishing wouldn't have ever crossed my mind." She directs attention back to Lyllya, quirking a smile. "Farcry Hold, in the beginning. Up North. But my sister -- that's Keelin -- wanted me to come down and stay with her for awhile. So I did. But I've been North for the past few years; I'd just got back when all this happened." She gestures with her free hand, indicated Weyr, lake, all. Candidacy. She beams at the ex-weaver, pleased. "Would you really? Is that a problem? If you don't have the time, then I can just commission; I'd meant to visit the Weaver Hall, anyways."

Riain keeps one ear on the conversation, vaguely nodding at points -- she's listening, really, she is. She's just not making any contributions besides one raised eyebrow at Lyllya's comment. But then, "Fish!" Her line is slowly reeled back in and a fish, albeit small, is displayed. "Did anyone bring something to keep the catch in?"

Lyllya gives a bob of her head, both to Risly and to Riain. "Got a bucket. One of the cooks handed it to me as I left the kitchen." Out of cruelty to wherries, into cruelty to fish. "Will that help?" The rather large, wooden pail is indicated by her feet. Risly gets a quick glance. "Oh, then you're part of the holder's family. Guess you rank me." Chuckle. No, that doesn't mak her nervous, not one bit. Her own line is eyed for a moment. "How do you tell if you have.. oh.. wait, the line moves." Duh.

"And rank me, as well." Riain sounds less concerned, if only in comparison to Lyllya, and makes a well-aimed toss of the fish into the bucket. "You'll feel the fish tugging at the line, though the pole handle. And then you just reel it back in." Her instructions are confident, if only because it's one subject she has authority on. "Lake fish are smaller than ocean fish, though. I wish we could get a boat."

Risly drops her line into the water, letting it dangle near her feet; it's obvious she's got very little idea how to fish. "Oooh. Good job, Riain." She hesitates, the points out, "It's wiggling. That's cruel. I thought they just died immediately." Then it's back to Lyllya. "Yes, well, that doesn't really matter now since we're all candidates, right?" Neverless, she's gratified by the others' comments. "Why a boat?"

Riain sludges through the water, slowly, towards the bucket and eyes the fish. "Yeah. That's because it can't breathe out of the water. It's going to be dead soon." She sounds complete unconcerned, and checks on Lyllya's line slowly. "You might want to recast, and try a different section of water." Then to Risly's line -- and hides a giggle once again. "You're doing a well. And a boat? Because then we could get into deeper water, where more fish are."

Lyllya gives a shrug at the question. "You're probably right." That still doesn't make her any less intimidated. Riain is given a look. "A boat? I've never been out on a boat. I was dropped here by a bluerider when I left from up North." Frown. A quick glance is given her line and the ex-weaver complies, as best she can, by recasting a rather modest distance from the shore (Hey, you never know). "I'd best keep an eye on the line, then. Don't want to miss a fish." Sure she does.

"A well?" Risly repeats, somewhat puzzled. "Um. Okay." She keeps her line where it's at, shrugging. "Oh. What if we fell overboard, though?" she queries with concern. "Maybe boating isn't so smart."

Lyllya blinks at Risly and pales a little. "Fall overboard?" Well, there's something for her to consider when the time comes. "Oh my. I didn't even think of that." But now she will. Her line is eyed once again and the weaver jumps. "Oh my.. Oooooh my.. I think I have one. A fish, that is." As if she'd catch something else.. or, perhaps she's afraid she will? "Oooh my.." The pole is picked up and the line brought in bit by bit. "Oooh, what do I do? I mean.. to take it off. Off of the hook." No. She's not nervous.

Riain makes a rude face, directed toward Lyllya, in response to Risly's reply. "We won't. I can handle a dinghy by myself, and they're sturdy enough. Takes a lot to tip one of those. They're got a ke-- Fish!" She'd run over, but has to settle for a steady pace through the water, instructing at the same time. "Just take it off gently, and drop it into the container."

"How come I haven't caught anything yet?" Risly wants to know, raising her voice somewhat to make the complaint. "There's lots of fish around here. I should be catching some, too." She gives an encouraging smile to Lyllya, however, adding, "Good job." She peers towards Riain again. "Oh. Yeah. You grew up in a seahold, didn't you say? That makes sense that you could boat as well."

Lyllya reaches out toward the wriggling swimmer, her hesitant hand pulling back a few times before actual contact is made. "Eeeew! It's slimey.. Ow." The grasping hand makes contact with the raised and spiney dorsal sail. "Hey, it's not supposed to do that, is it?" The offending fish is eyed for a moment, as if she were accusing the creature. "Maybe I can just slip the hook out, while it's in the bucket." Yeah, that'll work. The silvery form of the fish is placed into the bucket while the ex-weaver does her best to lever the hook out. "I don't think this is going to work."

Riain isn't going to do Lyllya's dirty work, and just beams -- and attempts to look innocent -- in return. "You're going to have to rip it out." Grabbing a worm or two, she returns to Risly and that naked hook. "Try a worm. It might work better." And offers a hand, palm up, with an all-you-can-eat buffet of worms. "Just take one."

"Do I have to?" Risly inquires with a faint whine present in her tone. "Will you do it for me?" She reels in her line until the hook is found and held out, ready for the worm. "I'd probably just drop it since it's so slippery and all." And disgusting. And /wiggling./ If anything else, Risly'd drop it from fear and distaste.

Lyllya pales. "/Rip/ it?" Ugh. Lovely image. The hook is twisted again and, with a rather sickening sound, is disloged from the fish's mouth. "Oh... that's disgusting. Poor thing." Never mind that she's the one who yanked it from its habitat and thrust it into an atmosphere that it couldn't possibly breath. Another worm is sought out and placed upon her hook, the weaver giving the same, disgusted look. "Oh well. It's as Riain said, we have to eat..." Which almost justifies things.

"Nope." Riain just smiles at Risly, teeth bared in a threatening and, though she won't admit it, lopsided grin. "You'll have to do it yourself." She's managed to watch the weaver as well, and practically beams with pride. "That was /lovely/. You're doing so well. I'm so proud." The knowledge of fish murder has been passed down to another ... generation.

"/Ew!/" That's Risly reaction to the sounds that hook-ripping-fish makes. "That is so, so gross." Lyllya is eyed as if it's entirely her fault. "People can eat herdbeast and wherry," she points out. "And fish that other people catch." She sniffs at Riain. "No. I can catch things without worms, if that's what I have to do."

Lyllya gives a sheepish look in Risly's direction, almost apologizing before catching Riain's words. "Thanks to you." Again, her attention goes to the bare hook fishing candie. "Oh my, have you gone into the kitchens? They were actually /cleaning/ the wherries the last time I was there.. those poor things." Fish murder she can deal with, wherry mutilation is a whole different matter. "And the /smell/.. Ugh."

"Good luck." Riain's sarcasm is back, and in true form. "If you do catch a fish, I'll ... I'll do something." That's her promise. Nice and non-specific, too. "I had kitchen duty yesterday." For once, she pales -- "I don't like guts and things. It's disgusting."

Risly admits reluctantly, "Once." And she didn't go back. "I can deal with kitchens, normally. But I /hate/ cleaning the animals..." Supposedly, it's one of those skills that all ladies are supposed to have. But Risly doesn't enjoy work unless it's not messy and not monotonous, so while she can cook, she prefers not to. A frown is shot at Riain. "I'll catch a fish," she states confidently. "It just might take longer than you two."

Lyllya pauses for a moment, baiting her hook to toss it back into the water, a little farther out than her last cast. "Oh, I suppose you'd have to learn to deal with it, if you impress." A glance goes back to her fellow candidates. "I heard some of the riders talking about which candidates would have the roughest time if they impressed." She's not going to mention the names that were included. "You have to cut the meat off of the animal... by yourself."

"I'm not going to impress." Riain is sure about this, and finally recasts her line -- and wades out slightly further. She's soaked now, and ever her twin braids are getting damp. "This is a vacation. Well, a vacation with a lot of work and a vacation where I'm supposed to gut /animals/. I hate it, too. Blood and guts and ..."

"Really?" Risly casts out her line, following Lyllya's example. And although it doesn't go very far, at least it's not by her feet. "Mmph. I'm not going to Impress," she states with confidence. "I'm just here becayse it'll make Keelin and Wagner mad. They don't like dragonriders much. I adore my sister, but she needs to loosen up sometimes. Settling down and having kids made her...well, less fun. But she's still great. Just needs not to worry so much." She shows a mishievious grin, then adds, "And A'dal's cute. And Gwyneth liked my dress." Curious, she peers towards Lyllya and wonders, "Which ones did the riders talk about?"

Risly is a gossipmonger. She can't resist the temptation to inquire, even if it might include some not-welcome information.

Lyllya shrugs. "Oh, I don't know, I didn't hear the names." And she was really trying this time, too. Riain is given a sympathetic nod. "I'm here for the same, because I simply couldn't put more work on the pile I already had.. well, that and the news is simply going to make my father glow red." Which is a bonus. "I don't mind the work, I just had to get away from the customers." Risly is given her attention again. "Oh, just candidates in general, mostly the girls. They said that we're just not going to be able to handle the work... a few of the boys were mentioned to." All males being boys.

"My family, as well." Riain hasn't actually told her parents, yet. It's one of the benefits of having a family that lives on a different continent, and can't tell whether what she sends back to them is truth or lies. "They were pretty furious when they found out that my sister had impressed, but couldn't really do anything about it, then. She was stuck. I'm not, though. They'd bring me home in a minute." Her interest is piqued by this newest gossip, given that it just might concern her -- and one of the only people Ri cares about is, well, /Ri/. "What about any of us?"

Risly looks disappointed that more information wasn't gathered, and only replies, "Oh." Too bad. She sends a sympathetic look towards Riain, mentioning, "You don't have to tell them until you do Impress. And if you don't, they'll never know, right? And they can't make you leave if you don't want to, I should think."

Lyllya looks up at Riain and Risly, while still keeping one nervous hand on her pole... she may even learn to enjoy this. "You don't think you will? I think you two are just the sort that a dragon would go for.. not that I know much on the subject." But they have no problems giving orders. Another shrug is given at the question. "I think that they may have been talking about us.. but they also mentioned proddiness." Which is where Lyl stopped eavesdropping, prior experience with proddiness having scarred her for life on the subject.

Riain is sure. Very, very sure. "I'm not going to impress. Someone told be that dragons go for fit people, you know, because they'll make better riders." And she's far from fit, and is sweaty from just the work of fishing. "Anyways, Am'ly wanted me to craft, which is why I'm here in the first place." Blink. Blink-blink-blink. "Proddy?"

Risly dimisses Lyllya's words with rolled eyes and a bemused laugh. "Me? No, never. Besides. I don't want a dragon. If a dragon chooses anyone, it won't be me. It'll be you two, though." Eyebrows arch, then. "About us? Was it good things?" Risly likes to be talked about if it's at all flattering. "Proddiness." Here, she wrinkles her nose. "No thanks."

"Fitness disqualifies me, too," Risly adds with a self-deprecating grin. "I never exercise."

Lyllya winces. "Proddy. Were you about when T'on... ?" Somehow, she just can't bring herself to form the words. "Oh, they were smiling quite broadly when they mentioned it. So, I would imagine that they were saying good things." Could she possibly be /that/ naive? "Besides, I don't think any dragon would want me." A shake of her head is given. "If you were searched, that means you stand a chance."

"I think you stand a good chance, Lyl." Riain isn't quite used to complimenting people, but manages it with only a slight stutter. "You're nice and people like you. I'm not, and I don't want to work that hard. I mean, you have to wash it and feed it and oil it." She'd preffer to stay an apprentice for the rest of her life, thank you very much.

Risly shakes her head. "Thankfully, no. But I've seen him before, I think." Or heard stories. Lots of stories. She shudders again. "I hear he sword-fights with people. And wears dresses. You don't think that's a wee bit exaggerated, though, maybe?" She's hopeful. "Oh, no. Not me. Gwyneth just has good fashion-sense. Which is more than can be said for /some/ of the candidates around here..." No names mentioned.

Lyllya doesn't need a name mentioned, bad fashion sense could only describe one candidate. A shrug is given at the mention of impressing and her line checked again as the ex-weaverlet considers the question. "Well, he did have a sword." And she was just too disturbed to consider his wardrobe. "Still, if you impress.. I'd imagine that you'd /want/ to do the work, if only to get your dragon to stop complaining of itching and hunger." Both Risly and Riain are considered for a moment before her line gives a quiver again. "Oooh my.. ooooh my.." Not again. "I think I have another."

Riain crouches down into the water, and lets out a whoop. "Looks big." Her tone is slightly envious, even, given that she's the fisher and has only caught one -- and a small one, at that. "Nice. Just reel him in slowly. Her?" She's not an expert on fish genders. They're as variable as T'on's. "I met 'im. He was trying to kiss someone's nephew."

Risly's on a mission to improve un-said candidate's wardrobe. She'll drag him over to the Weavers one way or another. "Uh huh. I suppose so," she replies consideringly. "That makes sense." She quirks a brow at Riain. "Who?" Then, attention is diverted to the fish. "Ooh. Good job. You'll feed the Weyr all by yourself if you keep it up."

Riain elaborates: "Keiden. I think." Poor thing.

Lyllya gives a rather soft laugh as she reals in what turns out to be a rather good sized fish and, copying her previous manuver, plops it into the bucket with yet another sickening sound. Riain is given a suprised look as another poor, defensless worm is placed upon the hook and cast out once more. "Oh? Oh my, I can't even imagine." She's staying out of kissing range, thankyouverymuch. "I have to admitt that he make makes me rather nervous.. then again, most of the riders do."

Risly ponders that name. "I met him, once. Kylorin's younger brother. He introduced us." She wrinkles her nose at the idea of T'on and kissing. "He's gross. No way would I /ever/ kiss him." That's probably one of the few men that Risly refuses to flirt with. And flirting is a way of life for her.

Riain admits, with a degree of shame: "Peydra scares me." And that's the only rider who really scares her, other than T'on, who just makes her nervous. At least he doesn't try to kiss her. "I wouldn't kiss him. I don't want to know who kisses him."

Lyllya blushes deeply for a moment, the color fading rather quickly. "I'd probably have fainted." And that's the honest truth. This ex-weaverlet wouldn't know how to flirt if you gave her a manual. "And Peydra scares everyone, I think." She at least terrifies this candidate. "I do feel terrible about how we oiled her brown, though. I should have taken a moment to sniff that oil, but I just never thought of it."

"Yeah, Peydra's a little scary. She likes knives too much." Which, in Risly's opinion, is unforgivably unladylike. "Sabria kisses him," she supplies. "They're weyrmated. But T'on will kiss anyone when he's proddy, I've heard. Didn't he kiss Kym?" She heard about that one. "At least Keiden got away from him."

Lyllya nods at Risly, though her opinion of ladylike could be questionable. "She certainly is forceful." Which equals terrifying in Lyl's book. "I don't know how I'd be able to handle being in a weyr all the time, all of those proddy riders.. but, yes, he did kiss Kym." Shudder.

Riain can't remember: "Which one is Kym? I can't tell many of them apart, anymore. I can't tell some of the candidates apart, either." She hooks a minnow, eyes it, and tosses it back out. /There/. Tiny little thing, swim free. No one wants to eat you, anyways.

"Poor Kym." Risly pities the greenrider. "Yeah. That's why I'm glad this is only temporary." Cute guys and all, Risly can only handle so much. "The Weyrsecond," she informs Riain. "One of the other greenriders that gets scary when her green's proddy." She pauses, thinking with brows furrowed as she attempts to remember Kym's physical characteristics. "She's short? And blonde." She eyes her own line mournfully. "I'm not catching anything, yet."

Riain grins gleefully and extends a hand-ful of squirming worms to Risly, before re-baiting her own line, the fish tosses clumsily into the bucket.

Lyllya glances at her line, unmoving and tranquil in the water, and then moves over to Risly's, having nabbed another icky, slimey worm. "Here, let me do it for you." The hook is brought in and baited. "There, just toss it out, you should have better luck now." A bob of her head is given Riain. "I've only ever been around one whos dragon was proddy.. and that was quite enough. I'm with you, Riain, this can't be temporary enough for me." And she was looking forward to such a nice, customer free, vacation.

Risly just gives Riain A Look. One of those that says 'Ew. Get away from me.' Lyllya is tossed a relieved smile; she's off the hook. So, casting her line again, she settles down to wait. "Get used to it," she dryly remarks to Lyllya. "It happens a lot, I've heard." Maybe that's one of the reasons her family is so against her being nabbed as a candidate.

Riain stops dead in her tracks, in the middle of a line-toss, and just blinks in concern. "What if one of us impressed? Like, a green. We would be proddy." She's scared. It scares her even more than Risly's look. "Faranth forbid."

"And dragons want skinny people. Strong people." Count Riain out, as well, because she's never going to be skinny. Never was, too. "We're listening to you," is noted, with only a hint of sarcasm, and nice sarcasm at that. If sarcasm can be nice. "So I'm going to be back at the Hall right after the hatching. Back to fire and forge."

Lyllya gives a rather dry laugh. "Well, that's different." Why? Lyl said. The weaver candie gives a nod at Riain's determination, though. "I'm going to work on becoming a master when this is over. People tend to not go to masters so much." That is, until this weaver becomes one, then they'll just keep coming back to her.

"If you Impress," Risly states, directing her comment towards Riain, "it'll be a brown." It's up to Ri to find out if that prediction is complementary or not. She shrugs once. "I hear that people who aren't so skinny get skinny in weyrlinghood. They /work/ you in weyrlinghood." Not an idea that Risly really likes all too much. "You'd be a good master, I bet," she adds for Lyllya.

Riain shudders at the idea of weyrlinghood, and the work that comes with it. "I don't wanna get skinny if it means that much work." That's her first though. She'll keep her insulation and hips, and her laziness as well. "Master? Wow." She's just humbled at the idea, but swivets back to eye Risly. "Why brown?"

Lyllya gives Risly a smile, bobbing her head at Riain. "So I can settle a bit and maybe think of children." Sigh. Babies being so cute and cuddley. The color choice is given a moment's thought. "Browns are nice, lovely in fact. Yes, I think you'd make a good brownrider, Riain. Just think, that big brown dragon would keep anyone from running their mouth at you."

"Thank you." Riain barely stutters, this time, but still blushes. She's not used to this sort of things, and hastily returns the compliment. "I think you'd make a good bluerider, so you wouldn't have to go proddy either, and then you'd always have something -- something, I mean -- to listen to you." As for Risly? Ri ain't sure, and will figure that one out later.

"Just because." Risly shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. You just seem like...brownrider-material." Because she's not frilly and dainty and swoons at the mention of men? Perhaps. "I'm getting hungry, though; here, one of you take my pole." She sticks said pole into the sand to keep it upright, then begins to wade for shore, tossing a wave back towards the others. "I'll see you both later."

Lyllya eyes her line again, bringing it in to reveal yet another silvery fish. "We're getting quite a haul." Riain is given a blushing smile. "Well.. oh my.. that reminds me.. those eggs are going to hatch, eventually.. I haven't even thought of that." Gulp.

Riain retrieves the abandoned pole and tosses it towards the shore, quickly re-baiting her hook: it doesn't even take her though, anymore. "It's a good area," she notes critically. "Not much current, either, which is good." A moment is taken to ponder the idea of the eggs /hatching/, and she looks distinctly unthrilled. "How soon? Have there been any estimates?" In other words: how long does this torture continue?

"We're supposed to touch 'em, too." Riain is nervous about that, and blinks several times in a row, twitching just slightly. "And what if I hurt one or something? I mean, that's bad. And I'm clumsy and I bet I'll sit on one and everyone is going to be mad." She's not happy about this, obviously, and doubts ever acclimitizing to the life. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

Lyllya pales again. "Touch them? Won't their mother be angry about that?" A comforting look is given Riain. "Tell you what, I'll stay next to you and catch you if it looks like you might hurt one or get hurt, ok?" Because, she can do that, honest. "And you can warn me if that clutch mother looks like she's going to want me for a snack." Good trade, no?

Riain is somewhat reassured by that, and nods quickly. "That would work well." Behind the sarcastic demeanor -- which has been dropped, now that she's in an area she's comfortable with -- she's twitching down to her sturdy boots at the idea of breaking eggs. "Wait. We could do that for Peydra, too. I mean, watch out for each other so that she won't yell." Or punish.

Lyllya nods. "Sounds like a good idea.. I know I'd feel more comfortable. She /has/ to hate me after that oiling escapade, not that I blame her." Lyl would probably have yelled too, if she could. "I think it's just a good thing all around, with anyone. Some of these riders downright scare me."

Riain nods slowly, confirming the idea in her typical drawl. "Watching out for each other, you mean? That would work. Because you listen and I talk. It could work very well." Her hand is extended for a shake to close the deal, and the other lazily grips her pole, still.

Lyllya extends her own hand, giving a firm shake before looking at her pole. "Let's just hope they don't make us clean what we catch." Shudder. "I don't think I'd be able to eat them afterward." Fish cleaning being icky. "Maybe the drudges will do it. I'm perfectly happy to trade cleaning or chopping roots and greens."