Scavenger Hunt: Rhaenyra and Jhairecki Ransack T'ii's Weyr

//Northern Bowl
Seasonal winds lash up against the wall of the bowl, whipping the already hard-packed dirt into tiny dervishes of dust and debris: grit catches in the narrow clefts that crack upwards, branching out around ornate arch of the Council chambers to the north and higher about Weyrleaders' ledges and Riders' more distant niches and nooks. Westward, the junior queens' weyrs slant to the bowl floor, while to the northwest, wind roars through the tunnels that lead into the Hatching Sands. Off to the east lie the equally well-tended Weyrling grounds.
It is a spring evening.
To the south, you see five dragons.
Clinging, wind-blasted, to the council chamber arch are two firelizards.
Brown Shirasuth and bronze Nylanth are here.
Palia and Rhaenyra are here.

Obvious exits:
Training Grounds Council Rooms Sands Queens' Ledges Central Bowl//

Summer's around the corner… and Rhaenyra's waiting for someone, apparently, clad in dark clothes and trying her best to evade notice from anyone who looks even vaguely official. She doesn't look like she's up to something. Really.

Jhairecki is much more casual about it all, hands in pockets, normalish clothes—much less suspicious if you /do/ get noticed. Maybe. At any rate, he sidles over toward Rhaenyra, and this time, he's the one that gets to say, "Boo."

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Jhairecki," Rhaenyra states, a hint of disapproval riding the arch tones of her voice. "You're sure he's still in the Infirmary." Her voice is quiet, and she observes the northern bowl with admirable paranoia.

"Faranth, of course," Jhairecki says, so put-upon by a simple question. He rolls his eyes. "Man hasn't moved in, what, a month? Was just in there myself—headaches, y'know." His grin is smug; definitely doesn't /look/ like he's hurting. "Are you going to hold up or should I just do it all myself, huh?"

"Headaches. Right." Rhaenyra's eyebrows roll. She somehow doubts her partner-in-crime suffers from headaches. Now, aching from an unfortunate past incident of congress with goats, now…. "Oh, please." She eyes him, and then strolls towards the Council Chambers, as if she has every right in the world to just be on her merry way. "Come on."

Rhaenyra continues heading north and disappears into the weyrwall itself.

//Weyrleader's Weyr
The dusty smell of parchment and hide wafts lightly through this large Weyr, though from time to time there might be found a packet of aromatic herbs or a vase of flowers set in the few open areas on the many shelves and cabinets. A wide but shallow fireplace has been carved into one wall, using an old natural vent to whisk away the smoke. Opposite the fireplace is a wide desk, the top tilted at an angle so that the maps hanging from the top can easily be seen from the large table in the middle of the weyr. Several sturdy chairs have been set around the table, well-padded for those long discussion sections. Finally, towards the very back of the weyr, a rather long couch has been setup, comfortable enough for long bouts of reading or the occasionally needed nap.
Gliding above is a bronze firelizard.
Rhaenyra is here.

Obvious exits:
Ledge Stairs//

Jhairecki, with a last glance over his shoulder, follows. Into the council chambers, up a staircase, and then he's emerging into the weyr just behind Rhaenyra. "So… what do these fancy straps look like, anyway? And for that matter, what the hell's the point of fancy straps, anyway?" Not that he's actually looking around for straps. Jhairecki eyes the desk instead.

Rhaenyra scopes out the weyr as she trods up the stairs. "Quit staring at my ass," she absently instructs Jhairecki, eyebrows furrowing. "Poor T'ii," she quietly states. "It looks like he hasn't been here since I was up here," she murmurs. After halting a minute to gather her thoughts, her gaze lifts to the back wall, and the long couch…. and the heap of fine leather, tossed upon said couch like a child's discarded toy. T'ii's handimark, anyone? "They look like -that-," she points out. "What are -you- looking at?" her hazel gaze swivels to attempt to keep up with Jhai's convoluted thinking.

"I'm not. You'd know if I was," Jhairecki points out. "Can't keep my hands to myself." And while she's looking for straps, he's off toward that desk to rummage around, opening up drawers and shuffling absently through a handful of papers, heedless of whether he puts them back quite like he found them. After all, not like T'ii's going to notice, after all this time? One hopes so, anyway.

"What are you -doing-?" Rhaenyra hisses after Jhai and his abject ransacking of T'ii's desk. "That is his -desk-! And his -hides-!" Her voice is very nearly affronted. She understands hidework, she does; but there she stands, eyes wide at Jhairecki's actions, completely actionless for the time being. "Crackdust, man, do you really think you'll find anything of interest there?"

Jhairecki glances back over at his shoulder at Rhaenyra, blinking innocently. "What?" he wonders. "Might. Might have… I don't know. Compromising drawings of the weyrwoman or something." He looks hopeful again, thumbing through a little more. Rhaenyra's horror is so not dissuading him. In fact, he gives her another half-sly look, and a slow smirk. "Y'know what we /could/ do, while we got the place to ourselves…"

"I told you," Rhaenyra flatly states. "Have fun fucking the -rest- of the women of the weyr." She's not budging from her no-sex-from-this-point-on standpoint. And no-sex-with-Jhairecki-period. Whorish is not a word to use to describe Rhaenyra if you want to keep getting incredible he— um, incredible conversations. "Plus, I had fantastic sex, in here, on -that desk-, with T'ii. You couldn't top it, trust me." Her smirk carries over to Jhai, and she finally moves into action, heading towards the straps, leaving Jhai to his dusty old hides.

With a melodramatic sigh, Jhairecki turns back, eyeing the notes he comes across just for a moment more. Then he's turning about, leaning back up against the desk to eye her. "Yeah? Figured as much, after you turned up in the barracks," he notes, tone innocuous.

"Sorry. Do you want me to go find T'ii and ask him to un-search you?" Rhaenyra questions, tone light. She gathers up the dress straps, carefully folding the leather into a more compact bundle, tossing the finished mess over one shoulder. "I almost forgot you were there, that night," she comments after, shaking her head ruefully and smiling at Jhai nonetheless.

"Nah, not necessary. Can get myself thrown out, easy enough," he answers. And then he straightens, shuffles a little more through papers, and abandons them in favor of stepping over toward the shelves. Nevermind Rhaenyra's got the straps ready to go, he peruses them for a few moments, adds idly, "Yeah, I was the one not whoring myself out for a dragon."

Rhaenyra's face moves from a smirk to a dead smile, held in check only by post-mortem rictus. Even that brittle facade breaks, finally, to a scowl; Rhaenyra does not reply, but her nose goes higher up in the air, nearly unconciously, and she moves towards the stairs without saying a word.

Jhairecki isn't watching. Maybe he just has a sixth sense for when he wins, maybe he's just not paying any attention at all—in either case, it's only the sound of footsteps heading away from him that makes him turn. He eyes her back, but lets her go on ahead, hovering about the weyr for a couple more minutes before he follows.

By that time, Rhaenyra's long gone; her steps were unhurried, but her stride takes her pointedly away from Jhairecki, at a speed designed for him not to follow. Beware, for dragons lie ahead: revenge, Rhaenyra would say, if she were to see the scene, is a dish best served cold.

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