Eek! Fishes.

The Beach!
This thin strip of cozy sand lines the southwestern rim of the Weyr, leading from the cave-in northward almost to the fence of the feeding pens, where the lake carves out some water for the herdbeasts. Cliff to one side, water to the other, there's no direct Bowl access other than by air or through the lake itself; thus, particularly in colder weather, it's often a good, quiet place to think. In warmer weather, however, relaxing (and drying off) on the beach proves to be a delightful pastime, serenaded by the assorted bugles and splashes of dragonkin revelling in the lake. At the end opposite the herdbeasts, the sand becomes a little grassy, with even a clump here and there. Some interpid weyrfolk have chipped out handholds in the rock, where cliff meets water, angling up and up again above the lake.
It is a winter sunset. The vault of sky is still, empty, freezing cold.

It. Is. COLD. Brrr. Iktyziel, bundled up like some kind of pillow, is perched on a boulder that sits right up against the cliff face, the rock partway into the water and making an ideal spot to watch the sun go down. It also makes a handy fishing spot. The las has a rod and hooks, and plenty of line as he perches there, tugging his jacket closer and huddling down, while nibbling idly on the bait. Which just happen to be bits sliced herdbeast, likely pilfered from the kitchens. The boy's red hair is tucked away under a knitted hat, and the scarf around his shoulders is a matching grey, like the rest of his clothing, which is a bit too big and terribly drab. Not that it matters much as he sits there, occasionally wiggling the line.

Kiaran is likewise very bundled. There's a thick, woolen scarf around his neck, wrapped tight right up to his nose and over his hat in the back. He's walking carefully like he might slip and fall at any moment, whether there is a patch of ice or not. Iktyziel is spotted, and Kiaran heads in his direction. "I, uh, I'm supposed to help you. Do we have to use bugs?" There's quite the worried tone of voice there.

Iktyziel is busy concentrating on the water, which isn't all that demanding a thing, really. But he does start just a little when Kiaran speaks, glancing over and then grinning a an, "Oh, hey." Scooting further down the boulder, he shakes his head, "Nah, I don't think we'd find a lot of bugs at this time of year, anyway. I took some of the meat they were slicing for sandwiches," indicating the half-empty bowl beside him. "Want some? It's pretty good. The fishes don't seem too interested, though," turning back to the lake, the boy's brow wrinkles slightly, "I've been here so long, I think my foot's fallen asleep." However long he's been sitting there, he has no fish to show for it. Yet.

Kiaran eyes the meat for a moment. "That's better than bugs, at least." Kiaran notes taking just the tiniest bit to nibble on. After all, it was suggested. "I was told to come help you. But I don't think I've ever fished." He notes with a shrug of thick coated shoulders.

"A lot better than bugs," Iktyziel agrees, grinning over at Kiaran for a moment, "I just wish I'd brought some klah. It's freezing out here." The boy tucks his legs under him, and huddles down in his jacket. At least, being over-sized, it covers a lot more of him. "I haven't really fished much, either," Ikty admits, with a slight shrug, "As far as I can tell, you just hook some bait to the end of the line, and toss it out into the water," a pause, "..and then wait." He wiggles his pole a bit, causing the bait already in the water to jiggle about. "I thought I had a few biting earlier, but.. the line broke." Alas.

Kiaran stares out at the water. "That sounds really cold. Maybe the fish all froze and died in the water." Kiaran suggests, finishing his nibbling and tucking gloved hands under his armpits. "Maybe that's not what you're supposed to do then. If you haven't caught anything. I wish I had a book."

Iktyziel gives Kiaran a funny look there, for a second, but then shrugs, "If they did, we're sitting out here for nothing." Still, he can't argue about the cold, breath steaming somewhat as he puffs out his cheeks and huddles into his jacket some more. "I wish we could just go steal some fish from the kitchens and say we caught them," he counters, "Why don't you grab a pole and try it? It might work better with two."

"That wouldn't be honest, though. We'd be lieing." And that would be bad in Kiaran world. "What are we going to do with the fish if they're out there? We can't keep them in the barracks. It would be insanely nasty and disgusting." The teen shudders, but doesn't even reach for one of the fishing poles.

Iktyziel shrugs, apparently not caring about the lying part. He shrugs again at the question of what they're going to do with them, likely not knowing himself. He'll stay there fishing till five fish are caught, though, since he really has no help to speak of. When the line finally does bob with a nibble, that one gets pulled in, and left to flop about up the beach.

"Eek!" That's really the sound that Kiaran makes as that fish starts to flop about on the beach. "It's not dead!" He'll back away quickly staring at the little animal in horror. And really, that's the same pattern that follows for the next four fish. Ikty will catch them, and Kiaran will whimper about them. It's an odd form of teamwork.


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