Eggs do not keep the Doctor away (Ava is Searched)

Characters Ava, T'syn
Synopsis A verbal carousel: Eggs and other things
Out-of-Character Date September 01,2022

Xanadu Weyr - Rustic Treetop Cafe
Perched on the cliff overlooking Xanadu's beach is a gnarled and massive skybroom tree. The bark and outer layers are sturdy enough to support the thriving, brushy top, but the interior, which is hollow, contains a spiral staircase that leads to a cafe built on a high platform amongst the branches. With a panoramic view of lake, sky, Weyr and the mountains beyond, the treetop eatery offers both sheltered seating just inside the trunk and tables on the wide deck that encircles the old tree.
The cafe's decor is comfortable and rustic, but closer inspection shows the smallest embellishments to be artfully combined into one detailed masterpiece. The wood of the doors, floor and walls of the trunk have been stained a dark mahogany that lends the space a sense of intimacy. Tables in various sizes have been carved to mimic driftwood, the chairs and benches padded with oiled sailcloth cushions to provide weather-proof comfort. Each table has an aged brass lantern filled with shells and agates gathered from Xanadu's shores, the sparkling natural mosaics holding tapered candles upright in their embrace. Lamps hang from the ceiling on silver poles, the thick frosted glass carved into intricate pastel shells or swirling white-capped waves. At night the colored glass softens the glowlight to enhance the ambience.
During the day, the retractable doors allow leaf-spattered sunlight to fill both the outer deck and the smaller interior with green and gold light, as well as allowing pleasant breezes to cool the interior. On clear nights, farviewers perch on the elaborately carved railing are free for use to enhance the gorgeous view of the stars over the Caspian Lake, the Sea of Azov beyond and the rock formations of the Weyr.


Spring is blessedly here and the warming mornings a sirens call to all those who had sought inner shelter for the grey, rainy winters. The cafe is absolutely bustling today, tables inside and out filled with very few empty chairs. The clatter and chatter fills the air, brightening many a mood and drowning out the sound of a scratching calligraphy pen sweeping out a staccato across paper. Ava, with her half eaten meal and two cups of klah is bent heavily over the note, pausing to pick her words /just/ so before she describes them in the ornate script. Rukaban, the small little brown, is sprawled half across the table, belly up in the sun and ink stained paws folded over his chest, a gentle wheezing snore peeping from him.

The crowd present in the cafe almost sends T'sei striding right back out the moment the Igenite greenrider enters. A flicker of distaste crosses his face - briefly there and gone again - before all that can be seen is a polite mask that doesn't quite hide the fact that the expression in his eyes doesn't match the faint smile on his lips. He edges around a pair of riders, nodding in acknowledgement of their absent greetings. Pale green eyes search the room, but if what he's seeking is present, he doesn't find it. Instead, his gaze lands upon Ava's note and he draws closer, not so much as reading the words as studying the script in which they are written.

So fixated on the curving letters Ava is yet to notice T'syn, and honestly with the crowd today the healer likely wouldn't have paid him or anyone else temporarily lingering nearby. Its the continued lingering that set of some sixth sense of be watched that inally drags her from the hyper focus, the nib scratching out the rest of a word before halting, the writer moving the pen from over paper to over table. Her head tilts just enough to cast a side eyed stare to the figure beside her, a moment to consider her tone before she speaks. "Yes?" Comes the eventual word, annoyance underlaid in an attempt at a neutral tone.

If annoyance is noticed, the rider gives no sign; it's quite possible that T'syn is quite used to evoking that particular emotion in others. Or perhaps he simply doesn't care. "I was admiring your handwriting," he replies, his eyes flicking briefly to hers before back down at the note. "You're not harper," he adds, glancing at her knot. There might be a question in there somewhere. He simply doesn't seem inclined to give voice to it. Instead, he finally lifts his gaze from the note, frowning thoughtfully. "Healer." Statement, or question? "Female though, or so it seems. Rider, or no?" Oh, wait, that's the question. An odd one as they go.

"Thank you, and no, " Ava starts slowly, a puzzled look crossing her face and now the pen is set down fully on the table so she can turn in her chair, arm draping over the back, "I'm not." A hesitant moment before she responds to the other statements, questions? She gives a derisive snort. "Yes female, no, rider. Yes, Journeyman healer, specialty internal surgery." Her arms fold across her chest, that mild annoyance now gentle amusement as she returns the short assessments in kind, almost clinically like she might with a patient. "Rider, green, Igen. Lacking of a place to sit?" She waves a hand at the lone stool across from her then in polite offer." Any other inquiries I can satisfy?"

"You forgot harper," T'syn replies laconically, moss-green eyes lightening briefly with amusement before his expression becomes once more shuttered. "And no," he adds, this time with a hint of distaste as his eyes dart around the room, shoulders twitching. "No seat. Crowded. Female, not a rider, but a healer - perhaps you know another. Male, newly a rider, or newly enough. Name…" He trails off, brows rushing together in vexation. "Did she give a name? No," he decides, shaking his head. "She did not." Or if she did, he doesn't remember it; either way, he's lacking that rather important piece of information. "Well, that's annoying." Again, pale eyes consider the healer before him. "Maybe you'll do instead."

Ava rolls a shoulder, the same that dangles the arm slung over her chair. "Astute, more than me it seems." She notes of her missed craft marker, her head inclining slightly at that point. Ava is unsure if he is talking about her, /to/ her, his lifemate or otherwise now, but she leads with the information currently presented to her. "She did not. Nor did you." Her hand lifts in a vague gesture to him, her eyes meeting and holding his, a flinting smirk quirking up her right cheek. "Ava," She states shortly, "And I know several lads that impressed last hatching but only in passing, not personally." Then, she frowns, brows knitting. "I'll /do/? I'll do /what/?"

Good luck following his train of thought. Even he gets lost in the fog some days. Good thing Qherakketh is there to keep him on track. "Right. Right." Shaking his head, T'syn frowns into the distance. "Sorry. Talking isn't my thing." Clearly. "Ligeia had a healer here, when she Stood. She's forever hurting herself; he Impressed, she did not. Now she Stands for Igen once more, and I thought to bring her a present for saying yes - but it wouldn't work," he notes, tapping his foot impatiently. "He's a weyrling; they're not even flying yet, are they? Bother that. What?" Eyes sharpen, focusing intently on Ava. "You'll do what?" he echoes. Talons prick warningly against his mind. "Oh. I said it first. Yes. Healer. Unimpressed." A slow smile, a brief flash of light amidst the fog before it's lost once again. "In more ways than one, I imagine. I am T'syn, green Qherakketh's rider, and I come seeking gifts. If not for Candidates, perhaps for eggs instead. Not for Oddisa, though. She doesn't deserve them."

That name rings a bell and Ava straightens visibly, suddenly far more invested in this conversation, even as she waves off his apology.. "Oh, Ligeia! She was one of the few actually helpful to me in her infirmary rounds. I hope she as been well." Ava grins fondly, if not impishly in memory of those early mornings. For the next verbal descant she has no answer other than a slightly parted mouth and a shoulder roll. She had no idea about the current state of the wyerlings, actually. All she can offer is an apologetic smile and a light chuckle. "Less unimpressed but thoroughly confused. Well met, T'syn and to your Qherakketh as well." She can honestly offer the greeting, even as she does her best at trying to hide her fumbling of the greens name. Another, apologetic grin. "Doesn't deserve gifts, or eggs?" Ava queries for clarification. "Can't offer much in the way of advice regarding eggs beyond confirming that they are, in fact, good for you. "As a medical professional, of course. "Gifts, well," A vague gesture at the shops below the cafe in her silent answer.

"Both. Neither. Oddisa doesn't deserve a lot except for grief." Either there's not much love lost between goldrider and greenrider, or they're the kind of friends that are always, well… giving each other grief. In any case, T'syn dismisses any more discussion of her, preferring to focus on the here and now - for once, anyway. "She's a helpful sort," he agrees in a vague kind of way. "Which is why I wanted to bring her a present in the form of her pocket-healer, but there's no hope for it. But eggs, yes, eggs are good for you. Although you wouldn't know it to look at them," he mutters direly. "But one shouldn't look a gift egg in the shell." Not unless you like nightmares, anyway. "Will you? Look a gift egg in the shell? Maybe touch one, when Oriapeth allows?" In case she can't take a hint, he elaborates bluntly, "Will you come back to Igen and Stand? And maybe heal Ligeia when she manages to cut, contuse, or contort herself again?" Again, that fleeting smile. "Lest you think I seek to steal you for your healing prowess, I assure you, I'm being told you are the gift we are looking for." Pause, wince. "Most vociferously."

Ava is wishing she hadn't started down this winding path of calcium carbonate shell, packed with protein untill she catches up with the true intent of what his is offering. "Oh," Ava leans back, stunned. "/Oh/" Its the only word she can say apparently, contradicted by the pretty, yet forgotten, letter to home now held down under her hand. The letter, it garners a look, a quick read over before she looking back to the rider,a stern expression that isnt for him scrawled across her face. The pen is picked up without a word, her true chicken scratch now scrawling a quick doctorly script across the page before it is rolled, tied and pocketed for later delivery. T'syn has her full attention once more as she rises out of the chair. "It would be an honor to stand at Igen." Ava grins widely. "Thanks to you and yours, Harper, Rider, Male, Rider of Qherakketh, T'syn." Then, a beat as reality sinks in. "Oh shells, I've a lot to wrap up before I go-what are the logistics of this?" Oh, what a wild new unknown.

Well, that was easy. At least this time he didn't have to bribe or bargain. A bit at a loss by her easy acceptance, T'syn stares at Ava for a brief moment before shaking his head slightly. "Oh, you said yes. Good. I think?" A pause. "Yes, she says it's good." Slowly, there's a peek of sly humor in those mossy eyes. "Thank you, Healer, Female, Ava. Candidate," he adds, inclining his head. "As for logistics, that is up to you. I still need to find her pocket-healer and at least let him know she's Standing; least I can do for her. And probably him, though I have no idea who he is." Another flicker of frown - annoyance, this time, self-directed. "I can give you some time to wrap things up now, or I can come back. There's no particular rush," he muses. "The eggs are only just laid. You can send," and he points at her ?lounging? brown, "that to find me. Or find Sappho. Or Qherakketh. And we'll come for you and your things. Up to you; I'm in no rush either way."

Ava smirks, scooping up Rukaban, the brown lax in the cradle of her arm. "Not dead." She offers, "Just lazy. I will send word then when I have buttoned things up here." Discharging and transferring patients and care and all, logistics the healer doesn't share verbally but a flippant gesture is all that indicate her suddenly buzzing thoughts. "Oh it will be good to see Ligeia agan-" And then after a few moments of chasing thoughts. "Andy was a fellow candidate, perhaps she can help-" Ava ads absently as tips her head in departure. "Till later, then-" And shes off, one table now open in the cafe.

Please use the site manager to activate the Forum, or ask your admin to help
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License