Persuasion
DragonsFire - Azarin - Tuesday, March 05, 2002, 4:15 AM
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--------------- Weather ----------------
It's currently early winter on the northern continent.
* Before dawn at Ista Hold:
A few clouds dot the warm blue sky.
* Before dawn at Ista Weyr:
A cool haze of dampness fogs the frost-chilled air.
* Late night at Fort Weyr, Fort Hold, Harper & Healer Halls:
The sky is clear and it's actually warm out!
* Late night at Southern Boll Hold, Weaver Hall:
Temperatures are mild, and there is a soft sea breeze.
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Suryareth's Weyr
A fresh scent pervades this spacious weyr; the previous year's reconstruction
efforts have breathed new life into the darkest corners and chased all but the
most daring rodents away. Veering off to one side is an indented hollow, the
walls curving gently outward to make it even more of a private niche. The depression
is wide; room enough for a full grown queen to sprawl in luxury or curl up with
another of her kind if she preferred. Scented reeds soften the ancient rock,
vibrantly colored pillows strewn in disarray about the relaxing couch.
In the other direction, and beyond, are the main living areas. The furniture
is sparse, but well chosen - sturdy and decorative. A slightly worn, stuffed
chair is set apart at an angle, the small table beside it nearly invisble under
the stack of hides. The newest additions to this area is a wooden rocking chair
and a small bassinet. The largest area offers a table with two chairs. A simple
setting, were it not for the large, impressive 'rug' that sprawls beneath offering
a soft, warm haven from the weyr's stony floor. More glowbaskets than are typical
adorn the walls, helping to light the many crevices and grooves in the unevenly
cut walls that give the weyr its distinctly unique structure.
Directly from the queen's couch, the wall turns sharply, as if the designers
took advantage of a natural shape within the ancient volcano. A high curving
archway introduces a smaller area beyond, a more private space obviously meant
for sleeping. A comfortable looking cot resides there. As with everything else
it is practical in design, but the quality of the thick blankets and fluffy
silver and gold pillows suggest a touch of indulgence specifically chosen in
honor of the weyr's golden occupant. A wardrobe, with drawers below, stands
like a sentinel beside the bed, too large and bulky to have been moved for longer
than anyone can remember. The dust of turns has been brushed away, but still
the aged wood and creaking hinges give this timeless antique it's charm.
You see Kriminic, Catrina, and Suryareth here.
Zureile is here.
Obvious exits:
Ledge
Zureile
Tall--but no longer gaunt--and with features that are probably too strong to
ever meld together smoothly, the end result is that Zureile is more arresting
than beautiful. Her skin is creamy and pale, with a small smattering of freckles
dusting the bridge of her nose. Large gray eyes peer at the world with an unnerving
intensity from beneath a thick fringe of lashes, and her hair falls in thick,
chestnut waves past her shoulders. Generous lips are usually pulled back into
an infectious grin, giving her normally earnest face an impish expression. Her
previously slender body is slowly reemerging after the recent birth of Catrina,
though she's still a far cry from the scrawny specter she used to be. In fact---
looking past the still-drooping segments and the stretch marks---she seems to
have actually benefited from motherhood, the rigors of childbirth and a nursing
child softening her shape to a pleasing roundness.
High on her left shoulder is a knot of black and orange, the braided gold looping
indicating her status as one of Ista's Jr. Weyrwoman.
A maroon turtleneck catches Zureile's wrists and throat in a tight grasp, the
rich color accenting her pale skin and darker hair. The soft material has just
enough elasticity to hug her newly aquired curves while still managing to conceal
any unwanted post-pregnancy additions. The turtleneck flares over her hips,
fitting snugly against the simple black slacks she's wearing. Black, small-heeled
shoes complete the ensemble. Long-legged and with a decent shape for the first
time in her life, Zureile looks /good/.
Zureile is 19 Turns and 27 days old.
Zureile's not where she was when Azarin last saw her. Nope. He may have seen her traipsing off to bed when they last parted ways, but she's not there anymore. Naw, she's sprawled over on Suryareth's back, stomach down and limbs a-dangling as she sleeps. It's really quite a touching sight, with Zureile slowly rising and falling in sync with the gold's breathing. Yes very touching... and very peaceful, too. That is, until the early morning's sounds are pierced by Catrina's screams. "Wha-a-a-? Huh?" Zureile sits up suddenly, face flushed with sleep. "I, uh, huh?" No, she's not exactly awake. Which is probably why she goes to swing her legs over the side of her "bed" and ends up sliding down Suryareth's side with gathering speed. Suryareth's always well-oiled, and it's a /long/ way down. "Ooomph!" She lands in a dazed heap at the side of the gold, blinking owlishly.
Curled up in a dark corner of the weyr, a borrowed blanket covering him, Azarin's emits little snoring sounds. Opening his eyes by the sounds echoing through the place he sits up with a slight look of confusion on his face, blinking a few times until realization dawns on him. "Oh... G'morning Zurry..."
Zureile's really not awake yet. She's never been one of those sunshine-and-grins morning people anyways, and having a baby hasn't really improved it. What it has improved is her ability to function effectively while still semi-conscious, which she demonstrates by picking herself up off the ground and moving in Catrina's direction before she's even really realized what she's doing. "Baby's hungry, Z'ryel. She'll need milk and pickles." Yeah, Zureile's still asleep. Z'ryel? Pickles? Where did that come from? Reaching down in the bassinet, she sleepily grabs the baby and flops into the rocking chair, hiking up her shirt to allow Catrina to nurse. It's a good thing for both Azarin and her that her back's to his corner of the weyr, or else she'd be /really/ embarrassed when she finally achieves "wakefulness".
"Who's Z'ryel...?" Azarin asks as he stands, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, "and I dunno where to get pickles.. I don't even /like/ pickles." A shiver running through his body, and he remembers that he's not wearing his shirt, or socks, or boots. Turning around himself, Aza tries to find his clothes in the semi-darkness, squinting as he searches the floor. "You were never awake in the mornings," he notes Zureile as he spots his bundle of clothes on a chair near the middle of the weyr. Stepping across the cool floor, he grins at the rider, a grin turned into a chuckle. "Zurry...?" Not exactly embarrassed by the mother's care of her baby, he still turns his back to pull on socks, boots and shirt.
Maybe it was the "Who's Z'ryel?" Maybe it was the sudden discourse on pickles, or the fact that someone's speaking to her that starts to pierce Zureile's sleep ridden brain. Actually, it's probably the fact that Catrina's demanding mouth isn't exactly sleep-inducing, but rather quite painful, especially since the arrival of her first budding tooth. What ever the reason, Zureile's starting to wake up. "Oh, uh, hi." She colors slightly, tugging a towel from the bassinet and covering herself. "Morning, Aza...." She yawns widely, exposing her molars. "Is it morning yet?" It's still dark outside, so she's not sure. "I hate mornings." As if it weren't patently obvious. Yawning again, she ends it with a shake of her head, and a wrinkled nose. "You always seemed to love them. Five minutes out of bed, and you'd be whistling." Ugh.
"Early bird..." Azarin says, not bothering to completely the ancient saying. Stretching one arm over his head and then the other, his eyes glitter in what little light there is. "Don't you have any glows in this place, Zurry?" Moving lightly, he walks to the weyrs opening, looking outside. "This place actually /smells/ different, than Fort, y'know that?" he asks, turning back to the rider, coming to her side. "Did I tell you how beautiful she is? Your daughter?" Glancing at Zureile, he grins broadly, then whistle a little tune, ending it with a wink to the rider and her daughter.
It's a good thing he didn't finish the saying, because if he'd started talking about stupid bird flitting about during ungodly hours to swallow grimy worms, she'd have to throw something at him. As it is, she glares at him. How /dare/ he be so cheerful this early in the morning. But then again, he /has/ complimented Catrina "You have, but I love hearing it." Because she is. According to Zureile, there's never been a baby as intelligent, or beautiful, or clever, or incredible, or perfect as Catrina. "Oh, and I've got tons of glows. I just don't keep them lit. 'Trina had problems going to sleep with them, so I got in the habit of keeping it dark. There's stuff on the table to light them, if you want." Take that repulsive, happy energy and put it to some use, boy! "Yeah, I love the way it smells here. Like fruit and sunshine, even in the dead of winter. Reminds me of Surya." Her tone turns wheedling. "You know, since you're already up mind calling down the shaft for a bit of klah?" Zureile can't really think straight until she's had some klah.
Azarin goes about getting the place lighted, muttering something about the smell in winter and missing it, though he's only spent a few days here. "You might be able to see in the dark, Zurry, but /I/ can't." Even if he'd be better off developing that ability if he wanted to be a better hunter. Circling around to the shaft he bellows for klah and some bread and cheese, getting a disgruntled reply from below. "Well, get a move on," he shouts back, turning to Zureile, with a crooked grin on his face. "Drudges... You think it's a requirement that they all have such bad manners?"
Zureile snorts, shifting Catrina underneath the blanket to the other side. "Absolutely. They either have to have bad manners, or be horrible at what they do. It's the law, didn't you know?" She grins, leaning her head back against the back of the creaking rocker. "You haven't even met Okelani, have you? She's the nicest cook at Ista---friendly, efficient, courteous She'll cook anything you ask her to. But, more often than not, she gets so caught up chatting with the other drudges, whatever she makes ends up resembling regurgitated firestone from staying in the oven too long." Her smile fades as she stares at him quizzically for a long moment. "Aza, why do you have your hair so long? Couldn't you just cut it and get a cap? It'd be a lot easier to take care of, you know." That's a polite way of saying his hair looks like a firelizard's nest. Has the guy looked in the mirror lately?
Azarin shakes his head no at the question of the cook, then blinks as the topic suddenly changes to his hair. "Well, it's... Comfortable," he says, biting his lower lip, knowing that there's no possible way to argue with Zureile. "I tie it back, when it's needed. And when I'm out hunting, it's sorta provides a kind of camouflage." And that's a stretch, and he knows it, but tries to hide his expression by turning to get the breakfast coming up the shaft. "Klah smells good... And the bread's fresh," he says, hoping to change the topic to something more trivial. Pouring the mugs, he adds sweetener to his own, looking up at the rider, "d'you want sweetener...?"
Zureile shakes her head frantically, holding up a hand. Quickly! Before he ruins the klah! "No, nothing in it. I like it just like it's brewed." Catrina's finished, and has fallen back into a quiet slumber, so Zureile shrugs her shirt down, rising to place the infant gently in the bassinet. "I love fresh bread is it warm? There's nothing better than warm bread and good cheese." Yeah, Zureile's starting to drool as she approaches the table, grabbing the mug with both hands. "Well, other than klah in the morning." And just in case he thinks she's distracted her, "I've had short hair before, so I know that short hair's more comfortable. And a lot less likely to blow around in your face on a windy day. I'd recommend cutting it."
Cutting his hair? Not an issue which has come up with Azarin in /turns/. Blinking, he manages to forget about the mug of klah in his hands. "I kinda like it the way it is, Zurry," he says, almost feebly, raising one hand to comb through the tangled strands. Oh, yes, he's getting the idea of what it is she's on to, yes. But he's not letting her talk him into something he doesn't want to do. "I think I'd like to keep it long for now... I mean, it's cold up north, y'know? It's good for keeping my ears warm." Good enough reasoning for Aza to keep his hair long.
Zureile's always been tenacious, and the addition of a very bossy draconic lifemate has not improved that trait. "A hat would keep it warmer, you know. And if you cut it, you wouldn't have to worry about its upkeep while you're hunting." Not that he really does anyways. Her gaze is probing as she mentally snips off the unkept locks. "Besides, you'd look a great deal better. Older, more mature" Hmm. If he was a girl, she'd go for the 'you'd look thinner' route. But since he's a guy... "It'd probably make neck look a little thicker; you know, give you that illusion of added muscle bulk." No one can say that she hasn't given it her best shot. "It's just my suggestion, though. Where's the cheese?"
Azarin already had the first slice of cheese, slapping it on a piece of bread, trying not to listen to what his rider friend had to say. Slowly, but surely, though, she's managing to convince him otherwise. Pushing the tray across the table, he waves at the bread and cheese, motioning with his hand as his mouth is full. Swallowing hard, he blinks a few more times, grinning crookedly as he pulls out a strand of hair to observe it closely. "Maybe you're right," he muses, tilting his head as he twist the strand around his finger, then releases it. "It /has/ gotten kinda long...." Doesn't take much to persuade this boy, does it?
Zureile can sense his wavering, and turns up the intensity. Oh yeah, she's all over him now. Like a fly on honey. Like a duck on a junebug. Like a blue after a green. Like a tunnelsnake after a mouse. Like a Well, you get the point. Doing her best to seem nonchalant, she grabs slowly cuts a slice of cheese, talking all the while. "It really has, Aza. You'd really look better with it cut, you know. Just think: You'd never have to worry about it, it wouldn't get in your face when you're hunting, it wouldn't get caught in any of the bushes you hide behind" Okay, she's stretching it here. "And besides, you look better with short hair. Always have, always will." She takes a firm bite of bread, then cheese, and looks up to gauge his reaction.
"You think?" Azarin asks, eyes narrowing in thought as he leans back in his chair forgetting about his bread and cheese as he ponders the proposal. "I dunno... I really do like it this way." Or maybe he's just gotten used to wearing his hair this way? Suddenly realizing that the cheese is slipping off his bread, he saves it at the last moment, and stuffs the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. "What if I just made sure it was clean?" Wouldn't it look nice then? Biting his lower lip again, the poor boy feels as if he's being staked by Zureile's powers of persuation.
He is. "Sure, it'd probably look nice for about half a day. Maybe not even that long. But in your line of work, it's just going to get in the way if you have it clean all the time. Clean hair doesn't stay in a runner tail that well. And if it's not clean, well...Besides, long hair is so..." She flaps a hand about, eyebrows furrowing. What's the word she wants? Ah. "Feminine. Trust me. Girls don't go for guys who have long hair." She tries to look worldly, here. Actually, it's just a personal preference with her. Who knows how other girls feel about it? Kyla fell for D'nic, and he had long hair. "Besides, if you can always grow it back if you don't like it. It's not permanent, you know." She takes another dainty nibble of bread, eyes piercing. "
"But...." Azarin starts, searching his mind for some argument to turn things in his favor, and brightens as he thinks of it. "All the other hunters I've met has long hair too." Take that! Couldn't argue with that, could she? But looking feminine? He wasn't sure he liked that part of her comment. "I don't look like a girl... Do I?" he finally asks, hesitantly, eyes fluttering here and there, to come to a rest staring down at the table-top, through hair hanging down in front of them. Bangs reaches below his chin. "It really is long, isn't it...?" Whispering, he looks up at Zureile, doubt shining in his usually bright eyes.
Zureile arches a cool eyebrow. "And if every other hunter started putting on heels and a dress, would you do it too?" Oh yeah, she's on a roll now. "And no, you don't look like a girl." She pauses to eye him critically. "But that hair does give you a decidedly feminine air. It's not just you, Aza. Long hair on any guy, no matter what they look like, looks feminine. And your hair is definitely long." Yes, she noticed how he flinched when she said the word feminine, and she's going to use his aversion to the word to hammer home her point. She shrugs, trying to look like it's his decision, and as if she could care less. "Aza, it's not like you're deciding whether or not you're going to remove a leg. It's hair. It grows back. Trust me. When I was a candidate here one of the riders shaved me. He didn't cut my hair, he /shaved/ it. And by the time the eggs hatched, I only had a bit of fuzz to cover my head."
"No... " Azarin answers to the first question, though it was probably meant hypothetically. Looking up again, he juts out his chin, looking determined and stubborn. "Y'know.. I'll cut it. You're right, it /will/ grow out after all, if I don't like it. And it probably /will/ look good." Grinning as he tilts his head he sends a wink across the table at her, "if I find the right person to cut it, of course." Grabbing another slice of bread, he stuffs half of it into his mouth, chewing it slowly as his eyes twinkle with amusement. Just don't let him know that it's not really his own decision..
Zureile does her best to refrain from breaking out in a cheer. Score! Oh, yeah, she rocks. Uh-huh, uh-huh. She /rocks/! Taking a sip of klah to hide her smile, she clears her throat. "You know, if you don't find anybody I'd be happy to do it for you. I cut some of the other candidate's hair before the hatching." Well, actually, it was just /one/ other candidate, and by the time Zureile had finished, Hanneke had run out of the room crying, and had refused to speak to her for days. But this is guy hair, so it's different, right? "And for the record, I think you'll look great with short hair. It'll show off those eyes, you know. I always thought you had great eyes." Of course, they're nearly the same color as Zureile's, but who's noticing?
"You can't cut hair," Azarin exclaims, remembering one insident from their Benden days. Being receptible to flattery, though, he blinks a couple of times at her last remark, "you think? I never thought of that... I mean, I've heard it before, but /you/ never told me before." Shaking his head, and making that long hair of his dance around his shoulders, he waggles a finger at her. "You're trying to flatter me, Zurry," he says, narrowing his eyes. "It won't work." Nevermind that she'd already convinced him to cut his hair. "I'm not letting /you/ cut my hair!"
Zureile knows a firm voice when she hears one. Sheesh. "Shards, Aza, it's not like trying to force it on you. I was just offering." Oh yeah, right. "Besides, I know how to cut hair now. And if you're thinking of Makina's hair Aza, that was more than ten turns ago! And you have to admit, she did deserve it." A giggle escapes her. "And I'm not trying to flatter you. What do I have to gain from flattery?" Oh /please/ let her cut the hair! Please? "It's the solid truth. Your hair covers your eyes, and when you've got eyes like yours, there's no reason to hide them."
"No, Zurry... Remember how upset Maki was? And her mother too..." Trying to reason with Zureile wasn't an easy thing, at least not for someone like Azarin who had no retorichal skills what-so-ever. "She cried for weeks, and she didn't deserve that. It was /my/ shirt she dyed pink, not yours. You really shouldn't have done that to her." Whether he's defending Makina or being embarrassed that he'd let a girl fight his battle back then, shall remain a secret, but his face is determined and his jaw set in a manner which can't be mistaken. "You... You can cut someone elses hair.. Not mine." There. Standing up for himself. Ain't you proud?
Zureile knows when she's been beat. Shardit. She was really looking forward to trying her hand at taming that wild mop of hair. And as for Maki... "She did deserve it. You think I did it because she dyed your shirt pink?" The man couldn't /possibly/ still be that naive, could he? "Don't you remember what she was actually like? The only reason she cried was because she knew you'd fall for it." Stupid Maki. Just the act of remembering her makes Zureile's teeth grit. All those turns of put-downs and catty looks. And the way she /threw/ herself at Azarin after she found out that Zureile had a crush on him? Oh yeah, Maki deserved it. "But if you really want a good haircut, I suggest Marta. She's usually down in the laundry room, but she does most of the haircuts around here."
"She was nice enough," Azarin insist, giving Zureile a confused look. "She only tried to dye my shirt red, y'know? She told me so..." And of course, poor naive Aza believed her back then. And still does. "She didn't have enough dye, is all.. Anyway that's all over, and I'm here now and Maki's probably still back at Benden stomping grapes." Shooting a broad smile at her, he adds a quick wink as he gets out of his chair. "So Marta's good at cutting? You could come along and give her advise, if you like?"
Zureile's not even going to waste her breath trying to convince Azarin about Maki. Besides, she's got to get him down to Marta before he changes his mind! "I'd love to!" She's already standing, so all she has to do is set down her klah and scoop up Catrina. "Come on! She's never busy this time of morning, so it's perfect!" Oh yeah, Zureile's got /plans/ for that hair of his.
::: Fade To Black :::
*** Disconnected ***