It's Poisoned and Disgusting (OPEN)

[Shiny]

"Here you are!" With a light clunk, the small bowl was placed on the wooden table in front of the figure sitting there. The waitress smiled, though the expression changed to a slightly scared one as the sitting figure simply glared from thickly-rimmed eyes. Glaring knives at the waitress' back as she turned quickly and left, Syrene huffed threateningly from her nose before slowly looking down at what that sharding stupid woman had put down in front of her.

Brownish-green liquid sat thickly inside the wooden bowl. The Fort-bred woman's head was tilted down, chin and mouth disappearing behind the pulled-up collar of her cloak. Raven-black hair fell haphazardly around her face and eyes as she sat still as a statue. Dark eyes glared at the contents of the bowl intensely and unblinkingly, as if participating in a staring contest with the food.

Tch. The drudge probably poisoned it. It looked poisoned, anyway. Or at least very unappetizing.

Syrene wasn't usually picky about food. She didn't eat much anyway, but when she had the chance to scarf down food at Fort, she would have taken the opportunity. You never knew if that extra boost of energy would be the difference between life and death.

But this was Selenitas. She wanted to spit at the thought of the name. She wanted to be back at Fort, but she hadn't Impressed when she Stood there, so she would Stand here instead. Besides, she might find out something about Selenitas that might be useful to Fort. She knew only life at Fort, and took the freedom of Selenitas as a lack of discipline.

Instead of using the spoon sitting on the table, she fluidly reached with her right hand underneath the cloak and pulled a small, somewhat thin blade from its hidden sheath attached to her left side. She smoothly dipped its sharp tip into the soup and swirled it around slowly, as if expecting some kind of reaction. Pulling the sharp weapon from the liquid, she raised it slightly, watching the thick brew drip from the tip condescendingly. Didn't seem like there was any visible poison herbs in it. And she was pretty hungry. Hadn't really had anything except the last of her dried meats since she had settled into her room in the Candidate's Barracks...

Her small, feminine hand rotated the blade so that it was nearly parallel to the table. Syrene flicked her tongue at the dagger, dragging it slowly along the dripping edge.

Didn't appear to be poisoned. But she still didn't want to eat it. It tasted like Selenitas.

[tarra]

The lunch crowd of the Main Hall usually held little appeal for Katar, solitary as she was and uncertain of crowds at large. But she was particularly hungry today, and the air held an exceptionally sharp sting to it. An afterthought of the nasty cold weather they were experiencing, likely enough, but it was certainly not helping matters. The cold was nothing as bad as what she would have faced at Fort, but it was a harsh change after the stifling heat warmth of summer; and the bluerider knew, to her secret chagrin, that she was feeling it. Cold always affected her more; back at Fort she would have taken to sneaking into kitchens for food after dinner hours, relying on her good relations with the drudges and cooks that sympathized with a female bluerider who was forever getting hammered by her superiors. Selenitas required no such measures (there was usually enough and some to spare at meals), but the crowds had always meant she took her food and ate in the privacy of her weyr.

Not today, however. She was simply too hungry for that. She took her bowl of stew from the counter as always (dratted drudges were always so slow to deliver those bowls) and began threading through the masses in search of a space to sit. There were none, and she was just beginning to despair of getting a quick meal when she espied the lone girl in one corner with a few spaces clear alongside her.

Two steps toward her, and she paused as recognition filtered into her senses. The fair, black-haired woman was oddly familiar...familiar enough to have come from her past even if no name presented itself on sight. Katar hesitated, her pale brown tunic and black leggings transfixed in the pale wintry light coming through the open doorway beside her - her last meetings with former Fortians had hardly been pleasent in any sense, and they were not experiences she wished to repeat. But her stomach rumbled once more, and with a soft sigh she made her way over to Syrene and settled the bow a little off her, giving her room should she be uncomfortable with strangers coming too close. She tried a light (and rather bare) smile.

"If you don't mind, anyone sitting here?"

[Shiny]

Syrene didn't have to look up to know someone was approaching her; she stiffened entirely, mimicking the hard leathers she wore. Slowly, venomously, Syrene twisted the smooth hilt of her blade between her fingers, unblinkingly watching bright light reflect off of the sharp edge again and again. Her nearly-black eyes moved to look at the woman coldly, assessing whether she would (to her despise) let her sit there, or throw one of her many throwing knives at the table in a very non-subtle warning to stay the eff away.

Hn.

She'd seen her before. Didn't really care much to pin down exactly where she'd known her from. Must've been when she'd lived in Fort.

How interesting. A Fortian. Yes, there were a few of them around here, but she spat in their general direction. Traitors, they were. She still preferred Fortian traitors to these Southern-bred fools, though. Any day.

Instead of death-glaring this person down (or throwing one of her many throwing knives in her general direction), she went back to staring at her soup murderously. (The soup was practically reheating itself under such a look...) She preferred to have no one associate with her, but a Fortian was much, much more welcome than a sharding Selenite.

Black, chilling waves of aura were rolling off her as if she was liquid nitrogen at room temperature. She waited for the woman to take a seat. Heh, the woman was smart enough to sit some distance away. Yup, Katar was, without a doubt, from Fort.

Suddenly, Syrene sharply tilted her head to the side to observe Katar through narrowed, poisonous eyes. If this woman had arrived after she did, she may have followed her here. To spy on her. No - maybe she followed her here to kill her. Maybe. Her grip on her blade tightened.

Or maybe she was just one of the first pawns played in a new Fort plan.

Her cold, thin lips stretched into a smirk with a sting as she drilled into Katar with her eyes. A rather monotonous voice escaped her, little clouds of condensation forming in the cold, crisp air as she spoke. "What are you doing here in this... place," she refrained from saying hole, for if this woman turned out to be a Fortian traitor, then she would know that Syrene didn't particularly like Selenitas. And then she might figure out that she was planning to go back to Fort after all and help them. And then she might tell more important people, and then Syrene would find herself either exiled, or, more likely, dead.

Although she did look like death itself a villainous raccoon, she certainly didn't want to be dead.

[tarra]

Despite the questioning nature of her words, Katar had not awaited a response from Syrene before she took her seat. There were really no options apart from doing so, packed as the Hall was, and the bluerider was not about to linger in a hungry daze for the stern, almost angry-looking girl with the knife to have a charitable moment. Lunch could be had quickly, would have to be had quickly in view of her grumbling stomach, and after that she could take herself elsewhere without preamble. Whether the strangely angry young woman had had some major argument with her stew (which odd though it might be, certainly seemed to be the case) was not her concern. She could glare daggers at her bowl of stew all day for all Katar cared, but the bluerider was going to eat hers.

She had just made her first mouthful, one eye always on Syrene and her knife, when the woman suddenly cocked her head to look at her sideways. The sharp action brought her head up as well - sharp or quick actions always did, an instinctual reaction the bluerider had honed over turns of persecution and never grew out of. She raised her own brow in questioning manner at the hostility in the other's glare, but where a Selenitas-born rider might have asked about the reasons for it, Katar's right hand went straight to the long knife at her belt. Perhaps all Fortians thought alike but her mind, like Syrene's, was already running over possibilities of betrayal, discovery, and impending death. She had faked her death to get out of Fort; that deception might have been discovered. She might be about to die.

The other woman, however, lobbed words instead of knives in her direction, "What are you doing here in this...place?"

Katar's eyes glinted. So she had been recognised, and this woman was indeed from Fort. That she seemed to despise Selenitas, however, was so obvious that Katar could not help but wonder if she should shoot the question back at her. Internally she felt the first rumblings of alarm as Sonarth picked up on her trepidation at a possible impending attack, and she sent her dragon a soothing wave of calm as swallowed her mouthful and half-turned to face Syrene.

"Eating," she said simply, "I think that's obvious. What might you be doing here?"

Yes, keep it short, keep it simple, and let the woman play out her own game if she wished. Katar could hold her own in any skirmish, but if there was any fighting to be done she would use the crowd to her advantage and slip through it to where her blue waited with bared teeth to deal with any human coming after her. Poor Sonarth - she wouldn't blame him if he had a phobia of her entering crowded dining halls after this. It wouldn't be the first time she was accosted in a Selenitas dining hall.

[Shiny]

Black eyes moved sharply to the long blade Katar had put her hand on threateningly. Definitely a Fort reaction, that was. Hn. Well, in any case, she was supposed to pretend like she actually liked Selenitas, and had run away from Fort. Syrene knew she hadn't been convincing before - it was hard to pretend to like something, especially for someone like her - but she had to try.

Syrene raised the sharp, thin blade to her lips and slowly licked the rest of the liquid from it. Hesitantly, Syrene pushed her cloak back and returned the blade to the hidden sheath attached to the leathers covering the side of her ribs, keeping her eyes trained on Katar the whole time. Might as well try to earn some trust around here, although she knew getting people to trust her would be nearly impossible. She simply did not look like someone you could trust.

Her ink-black cloak fell back around her lithe form as she put both hands on the table to eat (but also to show Katar that her hands held no weapons). She soundlessly picked up the spoon, dipped it into the soup, and touched the spoon to her lips, sipping the hot liquid. Hn. The whole spoonful ended up in her mouth, and she returned the utensil to the bowl to retrieve another.

Now, to try something that might entirely scare Katar away (although that wasn't actually intended). Syrene's pale lips stretched into a thin smile, the expression nearly cracking her face. The emotion didn't reach her eyes, but then again, it was hard to tell with those dark eyes anyway. The smile quickly dropped back to her natural scowl, and she shoved another spoonful of the brew into her mouth.

"Also eating, clearly," Syrene muttered plainly between spoonfuls, keeping an eye on the blonde woman. Katar might yet pull out that knife and try to kill her, for all she knew. She was putting her life on the line to try to somewhat bond with these people. She refrained from saying anything more, for if she had said "enjoying life at Selenitas" and Katar turned out to be a Fortian spy, then she might get killed.

"Have you a bonded?" She asked flatly, with hardly any intonation to classify her statement as a question. She didn't really expect an answer from the scarred woman; she could see the distrust plain in the fellow Fortian's dark brown eyes. The question was posed in part to make simple chit-chat to earn some trust (boy was Syrene bad at the whole 'socializing' thing), but also to find out more about Katar. The raven-haired woman might be able to tell more about Katar's origins if there were details burried in her answer. It might also tell her if she should be keeping a watchful eye on Katar or not. Then again, she knew the woman would give a simple response. She was a clever Fortian, and Syrene gave her some respect for that.

[tarra]

It was as if the word 'eat' was a trigger - or a conclusion. The strange, angry girl began to taste her stew, starting with tentative licks to what dripped off the knife and moving eventually to full spoonfuls. Katar's hand relaxed on her blade as Syrene put her knife away; and as the other woman pulled both her palms into sight onto the table so did the bluerider's fingers move (somewhat reluctantly) off and away from her own knife hilt. Yes, Fortian indeed - even the subtle nuances of movement spoke volumes between them. She took another mouthful of stew as Syrene went on eating, her complaining stomach forcing her to do so even as uncertainty lingered in her eyes. It was hardly helped by the queer expression that suddenly crossed the other's face - a thin stretching of the lips that might have been a smile (or a snarl, for that matter). Katar nearly dropped her spoon in favour of the knife lest the girl meant some other harm to her, but caught herself in time just as the younger woman replied.

"Also eating, clearly."

The bluerider raised a brow with just the barest hint of a smile herself as she took her third mouthful, having swallowed the second without realizing she had (an effect of that smile, no doubt). That reply had been unexpected, and it seemed almost as if Syrene were skirting the topic, uncertain perhaps of how to engage the ex-Fortian who shared her table. It was some consolation to know her lunch companion was not looking to instantly kill her at any rate, and from somewhere outside Katar felt her mental anxiety ease as Sonarth calmed again on realizing his rider was in no immediate danger. Not yet, anyhow. She returned her attention to her stew, taking the mouthfuls quickly and thoroughly, and wondering if she might get a chance at a second helping afterwards. As before, one eye remained always on the other woman.

"Have you a bonded?"

Katar turned back to Syrene in the middle of a mouthful and her eyes flickered. Could she be right in thinking that the young woman was attempting to make conversation? It certainly seemed to be the case, if the painfulness of the attempt was anything to go by. The glowering woman was clearly not someone to whom conversation came easily, and it made the bluerider suspicious as to why she might want to know more about her. There was no clear reason to refuse a reply however, and when the mouthful had gone down she spoke.

"Aye - Sonarth, my dragon," her own voice was cool, detached, "He's waiting around for his own meal when I'm done."

Having come this far, she decided to go a step further - to test waters and unleash the coming calamity, if there was one. Katar, like Sonarth, hated waiting games. And besides, information shared usually begged for information to be given in return. A thin smile pulled up the corners of her own lips as she glanced towards Syrene.

"Name's Katar, by the way. What's yours?"

[Shiny]

Syrene kept having to reach her spoon deeper and deeper into the bowl to scoop up the soup; the rate at which it was disappearing was rather astounding. Although she was slightly relieved to see Katar withdraw from her weapon, the tension in her muscles remained. Precautions, precautions. A light, smug huff escaped the raven-haired girl's nose as she watched Katar smile vaguely. She knew Katar was being cautious about what she said, and knew Katar knew Syrene was doing the same. Fortians were good at wordplay, and both the Candidate and Bluerider were not exceptions of that generalization.

The cloaked woman was vaguely surprised that the Bluerider had actually taken up her attempt to initiate conversation. So the woman was bonded to a Blue. Hmm. Either she'd bonded at Fort, or here. Either way, it would be too suspicious to ask where the Bluerider had Stood. Syrene was pretty incompetent when it came to socialization, but she wasn't stupid when it came to being able to pull information from someone. And Katar having a dragon gave her an advantage. Syrene might've been able to fend for herself against Katar alone, but if a dragon was thrown into the mix, she'd be doomed. Better be more careful about I say. The last thing I need is this woman and her Blue trying to kill me.

A name? Black eyes stared unblinkingly into the other female's mistrusting ones. This Katar seemed to be trying to make lighter conversation. She paused for a moment, eyes still trained on the Bluerider as she gulped another spoonful of stew. "Syrene." she answered simply. Although she didn't want to talk, it was a good thing to do. Get to know the people of the Weyr, that sort of thing.

It would also be nice if there was someone she could - dare she say it - trust. But the dark Candidate knew that was asking too much. She would always be on guard on some level, no matter who it was, trustworthy or not.

The glowering woman raked her brain for something to say. The silence was welcome, but not an appropriate conversation-continuer. Her thin brows furrowed, partly in fustration of her inadequate social skills, and partly because she was almost done her soup and she was still ravenous. She'd practically lived off of meat during her journey from Fort to Selenitas; her body was demanding plant matter, which was found in the soup. Syrene quickly glanced up to the front of the room to see if there was anything else to eat.

"Talents?" Trying to continue Katar's lighter conversation flow, Syrene's thickly-eyelinered eyes focused on the remains of her stew, actually feeling a bit awkward. "I'm good at hunting. I have good aim," she pitched in after a moment with a tight voice, as if to reassure Katar that this was simply for conversation, and that she was trying. Keyword: trying.

[tarra]

Bad though it was for conversation, Katar was somewhat glad for the brief silence that fell between the pair of them. For one, it was welcome after that strained attempt at conversation (surely even trying to kill a feline might be easier!); for another, it gave her time to wallow some food and to mull on the other's name. Syrene. Not a name she was very familiar with, but she could recall dimly that a Syrene had been a child of some dragonrider or other at Fort. Not that the young woman kept tabs on the Creche children, but having been a candidate for a bit herself she was aware of the faces she saw here and there, knew some names in passing too.

Glancing back at the distrust in the other woman's eyes now, however, she wondered at how her own face must seem, and it was all she could do to stop from breaking into a wry smile. Such a Fortian legacy, distrust was. All built from turns of learning that life meant survival one way or another, the only constant being death. Loyalty might have been a part of the mix too once, but it had all changed by the time Katar got in on the scene (or so she'd heard). She knew only death and war and survival, understood only that people were out to use others, and all life was a tipping balance of exchanges between conflicting lots. Trust, for Katar as for Syrene, probably came about as easily as believing the war would end the following day. It would have to be earned, not given.

"Talents?"

The bluerider flicked her eyes from her bowl (which was where they wandered to in the silence), and back to Syrene as the girl spoke. The word did not register immediately, but then the other woman continued, "I'm good at hunting. I have good aim,"

She blinked. Was there some sort of implicit meaning in this sudden statement? Was she perhaps trying to say she would not be easily killed or subdued though Katar had a dragon behind her? (And yes, the bluerider had known full well the double meaning of introducing herself as a rider with a dragon to back her up; such a pity that ex-Fortians had to play such games...). It had been said with a rather high pitch however, which would be strange if the girl was trying to intimidate. Maybe she was just continuing the attempt to be friendly - that seemed strange too, but it was a route Katar was willing to take. She swallowed her mouthful of stew.

"That's well," she replied, a little too drily, "Perhaps we could....go hunting someday. I take Sonarth out for felines sometimes, but they're dangerous to hunt. On aim...you mean with a knife, I guess?"

That would be a...suitable topic if Syrene decided to press it, albeit a strange one. Katar was a skilled knife-user herself, though Faranth knew that being one had not done her much good in the eyes of the Wingleaders. A knife had too much reputation for being a thug's weapon, used for shady purposes and underhand things.

[Shiny]

Black eyes watched Katar mull the question and statement over. She seemed to be picking it apart, trying to see a hidden meaning. Tch, well good luck to her. Syrene actually didn't care about the answer she got, because there was no real reason she had asked the question in the first place.

A cold smile stretched her face as Katar finally replied. Hunt together? That might be dangerous... two mistrusting people equipped with knives alone in a jungle did not sound like a scenario someone smart would put themselves in. And yet, Syrene had a feeling Katar wouldn't try to pull anything on her if they did go together. If the Bluerider had wanted her dead, she would have already tried to kill her. And vice-versa. It didn't appear that Katar was anyone she needed to kill. Yet.

Felines. She'd taken one down on her own before, simply because if she hadn't, if would have killed her. Needless to say the beast's meat fed her for a week. The payout was nice, but not worth the risk. However, if there was someone else, and a dragon... Hunting felines would be easy and rewarding.

"Yes," she replied simply, reaching back to slowly retrieve her blade again in the most non-threatening way she could manage (although she didn't do a very good job of it). Blade glinting in the light, she smiled down at it, slowly rotating it in her hands. Her touch was... loving. "I take pride in my blades." She stroked one of the flat surfaces of the blade with the padding of her thumb softly, watching her reflection. "Been practicing daily since I was a girl. Had to be good with knives, at Fort," her coldly amused gaze slid to look at Katar from the side, tip of the blade gently coming to rest against the index fingertip of her free hand. The knife continued to rotate, point slightly digging into her pale flesh. "You would know all about that."

"You must be good with a knife," she commented eyes sliding to look at the hilt of the blade hanging from the Bluerider's waist. If she wasn't, any of the respect she'd gained from Syrene beforehand would dissipate into thin air. Tch, from Fort and didn't know how to use a knife? Yeah, right...

Feeling a wave of displaced wind on her side as someone walked by, the dark woman sharply turned her head to look. "You." she shot at the drudge's retreating back, making him stop in his tracks and turn around expectantly.

"Yes?"

She glared at him as he just stood there, looking friendly. How dare he look friendly! A moment of silence ensued, and the drudge shifted awkwardly, weight of a half-filled serving plate resting on his shoulder. She moved her index finger away from the tip of the blade, letting it swing to rest vertically, pointing towards her bowl. She tapped the edge of said bowl with it four times, to indicate what she wanted done with it.

"Oh, I'll clear those up for you!" He reached out to pick it up.

"Refill." she growled. Her wish for his instant, violent death was very clearly shown in her black, soul-consuming eyes.

Hesitating, the man picked up Syrene's bowl with caution. "Both," she grunted, eyes flicking at Katar's.

The drudge nodded with wide eyes, all too happily moving away from the dark-clothed girl to pick up the Bluerider's bowl. The short man left quickly, intent on not leaving the Fortian pair without second helpings for long. They looked like they would slit him open if he took care of anyone else first.

There, now that was taken care of. As she grudgingly waited for the sharding drudge to come back, she turned slightly to look at Katar, her hand and its blade resting on the table. "I need to go hunting soon. My meat stores are depleted."

[tarra]

"Yes," Syrene said, and though Katar was relieved that the other woman seemed willing to discuss something she could make easy conversation on, she tensed (an instinctive reaction) as the other picked up her knife again and toyed with it with the utmost...gentleness. Her own fingers longed to stray to her blade, but there was something familiar enough about the way the candidate handled her knife that she didn't. It might have been disturbing for someone else to see Syrene treating her knife as she did, but it wasn't far from how the bluerider treated her own prized blades. They were the only surety (apart from Sonarth) she had in a most uncertain world, and she took care of them well. Sensing no immediate danger, she settled for simply planting her right hand at her belt instead of over her knife hilt, head turned to hear Syrene out.

"I take pride in my blades. Been practicing daily since I was a girl. Had to be good with knives, at Fort.  You would know all about that."

"Definitely. Best weapon of choice, aye. Easy to use, easy to hide," the bluerider nodded, a thin smile stretching her own features now. Yes, they certainly had an understanding on this, if nothing else.  Unlike Syrene, she had not been born at Fort, but as a matter of survival she had picked up her skill with knives fast anyway. One didn't live long in Fort without some sort of proficiency in weapons, and the knife had always been both easily accessible and effective. It was always good to find another Fortian knife-user however; the Selenitas riders seemed to favour the longer and heavier blades in general, and she was sure she would never develop an affinity with any former Bendenite (ie. Iskierka or such). Perhaps there could be more than mere acquaintance between them, after all.  She took another spoonful of her now mostly-gone stew, her hand still splayed near her belt knife. Not to be distrusting, but...just in case.

"You must be good with a knife."

Syrene's gaze had gone to the blade at her belt, and Katar's smile widened. Sharp one, this girl was, and worthy of note if not wariness. She let her fingers wander over the hilt, stroking it. Unlike the other woman she preferred not to draw her knives in public places though - it had a tendency to draw unwanted attention, "Aye, I am, though I'm sure you'd have known that too. As good to throw as to use, these little babies. Tis' a short life  in Fort without one." 

The other woman turned away to talk to a passing drudge just then, and Katar's fingers left her belt knife as she focused on taking a few more slurps of her near-finished stew. Syrene's back was turned as she spoke so the bluerider saw nothing of the death glares the poor drudge received, but his unnerved expression caught her eyes anyway. She raised her head again, curious now as to what the man might have done to earn her companion's wrath.

"Refill," Syrene was growling, and then, "Both." Katar raised a brow (she was sure she hadn't asked for any such service) but the glower on the other woman's face was enough to stop up anything she might have said. She wasn't one to antagonize the Weyrstaff in any way (she had built a solid relationship with the Weyrstaff back at Fort and they had helped her with quite a few things during her time there), but neither was she interested in gaining the ire of the clearly irritable girl. She was not one to comment or judge how others behaved towards the drudges and other helpers of the Weyr anyhow. So long as Syrene did not kill the man and then attempt it to pin it on her, or try to treat her the same way, she could hardly care less if she had pinned him to the table with a knife. At any rate a little more food never hurt in this terrible weather, and she watched impassively as the frightened drudge scuttled off with their bowls.

"Aye," she nodded to the candidate in what was probably a thanks, "One bowl is never enough these days."

"I need to go hunting soon. My meat stores are depleted."

She blinked. The offer to hunt together had been nothing more than a glancing suggestion, a passing thought. If she had thought for one minute that Syrene would take the offer seriously she would never have mentioned it at all. Unfortunately however, her luck seemed to have gone AWOL on her - there was no denying the other was dead serious. The bluerider's smile became a chuckle, hiding the shot of nerves that went through her as she spoke.

"There's food enough here if you're willing to brave the crowds for it," not that she believed Syrene would need the information, but as a courtesy she could see no reason not to mention, "But a personal meat store is always a useful thing. I could always use another fur too in this weather, and they'll sell well if you can get a few o' them at a time."

She tapped the table thoughtfully with one finger as she spoke. Granted, she was unsure of this girl and where she stood with her, but if she was as good with knives as she seemed she'd be a valuable partner on the hunt. Not that a knife, even a thrown one, could do much good against a grown feline, but with Soarth around to do the real dirty work she would fit nicely in. Not to mention a hunt was a good place to ind out more about another's character - often expressed tacitly in their hunting methods. And if Syrene tried to play her out, well, she would have to get past Sonarth first.

She looked straight back at the other woman, "Set a date then, and I'll see if I can get around Wing drills to go with ya'. I take it you're not a rider or wherhandler yourself?"

Because one never knew, after all, how much might have been left out of an initial introduction. Especially with a former member of Fort.

[Shiny]

Black eyes watched the Bluerider tense as she picked up her knife, and the faintest cold smile twitched on her lips. It was almost amusing, seeing her own paranoia mirrored in this ex-Fortian. Katar placed her hand on her belt instead of on the hilt of her blade. It seemed the Bluerider was starting to trust her a little.

Syrene tilted her head down and then up slowly, the agreeing movement barely noticeable. Her reason for liking her blades was the exact same as Katar's. They were easy to use, light, aerodynamic things that could work either long range or short range, and talk about easy to hide! Syrene had them hidden all over her body. It appeared they were eye-to-eye on the subject of knives, though that was not surprising in the least. She twisted the weapon again, enjoying the sharp bite of the tip against the pad of her finger. It was on rare occasion that the black-clothed girl agreed with others, but right here, right now, she was able to 100% relate to Katar. And it was an odd feeling. One that Syrene shook off quickly.

Heavily-outlined eyes rose briefly to observe the smile on Katar's face before darting back down reflexively to watch her hand stroke the blade's hilt. For a split second, Syrene's grasp around her own blade tightened, but she forced herself to continue playing with it. She was almost completely sure Katar would not attack her. At least, not now. There was no need to hold the thin knife threateningly.

The black-haired girl turned to look at Katar as she spoke, after sneering at the back of the retreating drudge. She was glad the Bluerider didn't say anything about the way she interacted with the drudge. It would have been a shame to become enemies Katar, who was similar to herself in many ways. Yes, it was possible for them to become something like friends in the future, if things continued this way. Although Syrene's body language was closed, she acknowledged the thank-you. Katar was a lucky girl - the Candidate hardly ever did anything for anyone else. She didn't even know why she had bothered to take care of the Bluerider's needs just now.

The eruption of a chuckle caused Syrene to narrow her eyes slightly. There was something odd about that laugh. As Katar started to speak, Syrene's regular scowl creeped back onto her face. "You think I want to eat this?" she grunted, completely ignoring the fact that she had just wolfed down an entire bowl and had demanded asked for seconds. "It's disgusting. And probably poisoned," athough she knew it wasn't because she just ate it, she said it anyway, to be disdainful. "I'd rather hunt my own food."

She let the woman finish, watching her with an irritated expression. Not that she was specifically irritated with Katar herself, no, she just looked like that on a regular basis. "Fur is good," she pitched in monotonously, now spinning the blade in her hand. She watched the Bluerider contemplatively tap the table, then lifted her chilling black-brown eyes to meet Katar's as she spoke. It seemed she actually was intending to go hunting. "Preferably before the dragon Hatching I will be Standing at, or after I Impress - if I impress," she sneered the last part of that sentence, obviously bitter about not having Impressed while Standing at Fort. She obviously would have to go hunting on her own before Impressing if they had to wait that long, but the two didn't have to go hunting together right away anyway.

As soon as the drudge came back into view all the way across the room, Syrene's eyes darted to glare daggers at him. She stopped spinning the blade and held it in her hand, tip pointing in his direction. The already-rushed man sped up even more at the scary goth's threatening atmosphere and quickly placed a full bowl in front of each woman before scuttling off again. Without saying a word, Syrene did exactly what she did before; she stirred her soup with her thin knife and licked the mixed concoction from it, before dipping her spoon in to retrieve proper mouthfuls.

This one wasn't poisoned either. Okay, maybe she was wrong about the whole 'they're poisoning the food' bit. But she wasn't about to admit that.

"What Wing are you on," Syrene grumbled tonelessly with her head tilted over the bowl so she could shovel soup into her mouth, looking up and to the side to stare at the fellow Fortian unnervingly.