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Harper's Tale 2 - Saturday, April 20, 2002, 10:46 PM
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Weyrling Barracks
The large entryway opens into two immense U-shaped caverns stretching deep into the cliff side. Glow baskets lining the cavern walls cast a soft light, dispelling the shadows and illuminating the home of all High Reaches weyrlings. Stone couches of various sizes line the many walkways of well-packed dirt and stone.
Along the walls nearest the entrance, shelves and pegs hold the leathers, books and tools needed when teaching and practicing, and towards the back, a large pool for the dragonets and weyrlings and several large containers kept full of fresh meat serve as conveniences for the busy residents of these barracks.
Snuggled in with the leather supplies and tools are eleven firelizards.
Brown Byndareth, blue Tsulryth, blue Urzketh, and green Zhesteth are here.
You see Weyrling Progress Record, Dragon Wing, Taesha, and Star Studded Sky here.
Fyria and Lis are here.
Obvious exits:
Training Grounds     Couches

Fyria looks up with a handful of meat poised right before Urzketh's mouse at Lis' cheery entrance. "Hey Lis," she drawls, then blinks as Urk rumbles a brief protest. "Oh, alright you winged stomach. I hope to Faranth that your appetite dwindles as you get older, else the weyr's going to be running short on herdbeasts." Urzketh counters with a witty mental return shot, causing her to laugh. "Yes yes, I know love." She peers back towards the greenrider with a curious look, adding "What brings you to our humbly repainted abode today?"

Vorkoroth comes out of Vorkoroth's couch.

Wyn appears from the direction of Vorkoroth's couch. We can't say she walked out, because it's not really walkable from, and we can't say she tumbled or climbed either. So we'll stick with 'appeared'. It suits Wyn, in any case. "Good evening, Lis," she greets the recently arrived greenrider, a surprisingly warm smile belieing the formal phrasing.

Lis looks around the weyrling barracks as she rocks back and forth on the raised heels of her boots, commenting, "It's really quite nice." Art appreciation is not her strong point. "But I'm really here to, uh, act as a representative from Tsunami wing. And, uh..." There's a pause, and her eyes roll towards the ceiling before she spits out what sounds like a polished spiel: "Being a weyrling can be a confusing and stressful time, and as a mentor, I'd like to offer advice or a shoulder to cry on if you need it."

Fyria gives Urzketh the last of the meat and taps him on the muzzle, to which he rumbles, stares at Lis, then ambles off to his couch. Fyria washes the blood off her hands and just stares at Lis for a moment. Her lips twitch only once, before she answers with "I'm impressed by your memorization skills, Lis. I couldn't have done better myself." And thus, she just looks cute.

A rumblepurr from Vorkoroth reminds Wyn of her reason to not be napping, and with a slight smile, she moves off to aquire a bucket of oil and some brushes. "A good performance indeed," she agrees. "Especially since I assume the meaning behind the words is meant truly. Have a seat?" she offers. "Just... have a care where you sit. S'titch has been working on lace, and may not have accounted for all his needles."

Lis doesn't quite glare at Fyria for that comment - she's supposed to be supportive, after all - but she does retort crisply, "K'nex put it so well, I didn't want to forget it and botch it." She'll stop from adding 'so there' and sticking out her tongue. Vaguely amused at Wyn's hostessness, the greenrider carefully checks it over before sitting it down. "Lace? Is he any good? 'Cause I need to get Lianor a proper dress."

"Mmmhmm. All in all, I thank you for the offer, Lis," she says with a slight bow of her head. Glancing around at the couches, and satisfied that the rushes are cleaned, she grabs a mug of klah and plops her arse down on a cushion (she'll avoid the chairs, after Wyn's comment). "Unfortunately, yes. S'titch is quite good, as he constantly reminds us so. Special occasion, or just because?" Wyn and Vorkoroth get a quick wave and grin before she aquaints herself with her mug.

Wyn herself isn't sitting period. Rather hard to do when you've got an itchy dragon and a bucket of oil. "Alas, S'titch is a genius when it comes to things Weaverly." she seconds Fyria. "Even if he is /far/ too enamoured of lace. Poetic justice that his green in the most non prissy of her species that I have ever met." Wyn is rather fond of Entymeth. "Simply... make sure that you are specific with what you want. Or he'll run away with you."

Lis wiggles fingers at Fyria. "Well, she's old enough not to drag all her clothes in the dirt now; it's time she had something proper to wear." The greenrider, however, is becoming more and more enamored - or at least amused by - of S'titch. "Will he, now? I'd almost want to see what he came up with, on his own..."

"Proper, eh? Just make sure you emphasize that with S'titch, else you might find her enveloped in a pink dress with peach lace. Or vice versa." She shifts position a little, then thinks a moment. Well. "Unless she likes that assortment of colours?" A faint smile appears, followed by a quick hand flip. "Wyn and I will let him know next time we see him. For all we know, he's off now bartering for more supplies for his lacy endeavours." Ehem.

"Lovies!!!" comes a familiar high tenor trill, as who should appear but S'titch himself, paced by the ever patient Entymeth. "Did I hear someone mention /lace/? Really, now isn't that /just/ the best timing!" he flutters, hands waving about with peripatetic energy. "I've just come up with a new pattern today!!"

Speak of the devil... "I don't really see what's wrong with peach and pink," Lis protests in her colorblind enthusiasm (although her outfit isn't too bad; not her fault the weyrmate tends towards blinding hues in his closet). S'titch is waved at, friendly-like, without much regard for Fyria or Wny's sanity. "Why, yes. Are you S'titch?"

Wyn rolls her eyes, and busies herself scrubbing at Vorkoroth's neckridges as S'titch appears. Hopefully he won't see her? Vorkoroth makes an amused crack about cowardice, that earns him a grumbles "Oh shut up."

Fyria visibly /winces/ at that voice as S'titch makes his entrance, on cue. Shells. So much for a peaceful afternoon. "Hello, S'titch...I see you've been busy today, hmm?" She doesn't bother to hide her expression, instead blinking Lis-wards. "Well, if she can pull the colours off, then lucky her. And see? S'titch is /obviously/ eager to serve." Ugh. Maybe she /should/ go out and repair the fencepost. Again.

S'titch practically swoons. And says as much. "You like pink and peach, lovie?" he asks of Lis. "And lace too? I swoon, darling, literally /swoon/ at your /feet/. Good taste is /so/ hard to find around these parts." he confides, looking through his eyelashes at Wyn and Fyria. "And indeed I am S'titch. Entymeth's rider and just /thrilled/ to meat you at last!"

Lis wrinkles her nose at S'titch's behavior in an expression of utter amusement, admitting, "Orchid purple and yellow is nice too. And light blue and green, and..." A couple more color combinations that would make normal people twitch are rattled off before she wonders: "Would you be willing to do a little comission, on the side? No hurry, since you're busy with classes..." Or at least, her voice implies, you should be.

Wyn shudders behind the screening and comfortable bulk of Vorkoroth, murmuring to Fyria that "I thought Impression was supposed to change one for the /better/?" in a mock bewildered undertone as she gazes upon S'titch.

Fyria stares at S'titch with a please-shoot-me look, and leans over to nod in agreement with Wyn. "I had hoped he wouldn't have Impressed in the first place, but yes. I thought as much, too. Entymeth is such a sweetheart - I have /no/ idea how she puts up with his mind." A scary thought indeed.

S'titch beams adoringly at Lis. "A commission? Lovie I would be /honoured/, simply /honoured/, to take one from you. Fardles, but I was afraid I was going to lose all my skills, since Entymeth won't let me make her lace for her leathers," Cue nancy weaverboy pout. Entymeth rumbles, noses him affectionately, but doesn't back down.

Lis gives Wyn a snort at the disparraging comment, and half a glare for Fyria too. She rather likes Nancy Boy. "In that case, consider yourself richer one comission. And I'll pay full price if it's quality work. Now..." The greenrider touches a finger to her lip, tapping it now and again introspectively. "I'll have to talk to D'renn before I can tell you what colors... but hopefully that'll only take a day. Is it a deal?" One hand is stuck out (thankfully, she never learned to spit in the palm to seal it properly) for confirmation.

"/What/ mind?" is Wyn's dry retort to Fyria, murmured quietly so as not to reach Lis's ears. "I believe Entymeth is certainly the brains of that pair. /And/ the beauty, to hear Vorkoroth tell. Even if he's too young to really appreciate her. Good Faranth's eyeridge, but if he ever chases her, I am hiding in my weyr." she intones firmly. More murmurs from behind the dragons as she spies on Lis and the ex Weaver.

Fyria chuckles, waving a finger Wyn-wards. "You have a point. Though I'm /sure/ those garish colour combinations could /not/ be coming from Entymeth. Right?" Wyn's comment about flights causes her to pale momentarily. "I think...that when Entymeth glows, Urzketh and I will beat a hasty retreat. To Ista Isle. Shells, maybe even Southern Weyr." Anything to prevent the remote possibility of Urzketh catching Entymeth. She peers around a blue limb at S'titch, and shudders. Visibly. "Tell you what...I'll lock you in the storage rooms when she flies, if you lock me in as well?" Grin.

S'titch flutters his hands a little more in sheer idiot child happiness. "Oh /thanks/, Lis lovie. I assure you you'll be /so/ happy!" he chirps. And then the import of the extended hand hits him. *smack* And he extends his own long fingered mitt for a brief and fluttering handshake. "Oh, yes, yes YES! It's a deal, love."

Lis' sentiments are starting to slip from bemused into disturbed, and she retrieves her hand rather quickly from the bizzare handshake. "Er. Well, then. I'll... see you 'round." Getting up, the greenrider quirks a faint smile over her shoulder to the dismaying blueriders. "You'd be amazed how much it doesn't seem to matter, during the flight." Whether that's encouraging or despairing... well, it's more than likely the truth.

Lis goes home.

"Bye Lovie!!" calls S'titch happily, visions of lace dancing in his head, much to Entymeth's dismay, as the greenling pair shuffles back from whence they came.

Wyn gives Lis a nod as she heads out, before giving Fyria a wry smile. "It's not the flight, but the afterglow that worries me. Although I /doubt/ that one has ever made it with a girl before." she notes in a drawl, the off colour thought and accompanying frightening images kept very carefully screened from Vorkoroth, who is now dozing in a freshly oiled heap of happiness.

"But the thought of even /looking/ at him like..that..." Fyria gives Wyn a half-wave as she leaves, and blatantly ignores S'titch. "Hopefully enough male riders will be there that /we/ won't have to worry 'bout it. AFter all," she says matter-of-factly, "Riders can subtly influence their mates. Or so I've heard." Please say yes.

"Oh, quite true," assures Wyn the weyrbred. "If there's someone to catch your eye, it's certainy passed on to your lifemate easily enough. Although really, the influencing affects more the golds and the greens. For the boys, it's always going to involve a little luck, although our influence might encourage them to try harder..." She trails off as a wickedly amusing thought prompts a snicker. "Dear Faranth, if S'titch has enough brains to think of that, I believe Ike will be joining us in the locked basement."

Fyria nearly chokes with laughter at that one. "Great Faranth!! The same would go for N'zgul as well, then. SHells...what a comic relief this will be." Entymeth's Flight. Come one, come all! "Anyways, I only wonder what he'll be like when she's proddy. What do you think, better, or worse?"

Wyn shudders slightly. "Ergh, N'zgul can lurk in another cellar. Especially if he wins and decides to seek another's arms, I'd rather /not/ be nearby. Coming off the emotions of a flight, I might do something I'd regret later. And he's... N'zgul. Disturbing."

Fyria taps her chin thoughtfully, swirling the remnants of her mug slowly. "Well, if you had to choose between N'zgul and S'titch...ooo. I see your point." Fy winces visibly, then shakes her head. "Well, either I'll be locked up in a cellar, or in the Healer's quarters. One or the other." Nuff said. "How's Vor doing with his wing exercises?"

Wyn nods sagely. "Indeed. Seriously, Sii'kyn is really the only male in this clutch that I'd feel safe being with, and he's gotten to be such a good friend that it would be rather... odd. So I believe I shall settle for hiding in my weyr when Entymeth begins to glow." And that, apparently, is that. Wing excercises are a much better topic. "Oh he's doing splendidly well. Almost strong enough to lift himself off the ground as it is, and likely would try, if it weren't for me and all the Weyrlingmasters and their dragons telling him that he has to wait. /You/ lot see his suave side, but he's really jsut as impatient and inquisitive as your Urzketh.

Fyria breaks into a smile at the mention of Ike, but says nothing of what /she/ thinks, personally. "Excellent! Urk's doing well as can be, considering that fiasco from the other day." She can't help but give the sleeping blue a fond look, however, before glancing back at Wyn. "And trust me, I doubt he's as curious as Urk is. Else he'd be in as much of a heap of trouble. Personally? I think he and Kihaelth are having a private little competition of who can get in trouble the most." At the expense of their riders. "Perhaps Vor could teach Urk some of his 'suaveness' at some point. Or at least, some restraint!"

Wyn laughs dryly. "I do not doubt that they are," she concurs. "Hopefully one or the other will drop out before we are set to graduate, or you might still be confined to the barracks byt he time the /next/ set of weyrlings arrives. And I think Kariel would be rather sad about that, hmm?" she winks. Yes, Wyn just winked. Wyn is much amused, this evening.

Fyria eyerolls. "Please don't say that. I love life as a weyrling, but do /not/ plan on making this a full-time job." Fy drains the remnants of her mug and gives Wyn a rather wry little grin. "He would /definitely/ not be amused, that's for sure. As it is, I doubt I've ever seen him so immersed in his practice. Elehu must be thrilled. Not only does Mosiah decide to stay, but Kariel picks up the extra shifts." To keep him otherwise occupied.

Wyn laughs quietly, and now assured that Vorkoroth is soundly asleep, risks aquiring a mug of klah for herself. "He says that Vespurath told him that /she/ drinks klah. He's now determined to try some himself," she explains with regards to her stealthy approace to klah sipping. She then offers a little smile. "In that sense, I am quite glad that I left no one behind to, ah... miss me, that I had not already called things off with before I was Searched."

"Klah?" Fyria looks blank a moment, and shakes her head. "Luckily, Urzketh hasn't any odd cravings. Or at least none he's decided to grace me with," she chirps. "I really can't imagine what klah would do to a dragon, considering it's a stimulant. And...in that case, I'll make sure to keep it away from Urk." That's the /last/ thing he needs. She cants her head sideways a little, commenting with a sly grin "No significant other back at the Hall for you, then?"

Wyn laughs again. Quietly, of course. "I believe that they would have to drink approximately a keg full to get any of the effects we experiance, but best not to chance it," she avers, with a fond look at the sleeping Vorkoroth. And then a headshake. "No, not really. A fling, but that is about it. Love... is not something I do. In the romantic sense of the emotion." She's gotten better, though. At least she's not calling love a mass hallucination any more,

Fyria awws softly, giving Wyn a subtle little elbow-nudge. "Nothing wrong with a fling, my dear. Faranth knows I had plenty of 'em myself prior to meeting Kariel. In fact, he's the first real love I've had. Flings don't count, even if they are repeated." Grin. "I would think life as a Healer would keep you busy enough, besides, right?"

Wyn twinkles slightly. "Oh, nothing at all wrong with flings. I have had my share as well. Although the Masters, of course, never found out." she notes. Ooooh, so Wyn /does/ break the odd rule. The things one learns over klah, when Wyn is in one of her rare moods to share. "And it is indeed busy, but it is also highly rewarding. I believe I am going to take Dragonhealer training once we graduate. I am still a Healer, even if I can no longer claim my old Craft."

Fyria laughs at the mention of the Masters, and she waggles a finger admonishingly at Wyn. "Tsk tsk, Wyn. I"m only teasing, though - the only reason I myself haven't broken the rule is because Urzketh would be sure to broadcast to the entire draconic population of the weyr. Then I'd /know/ I'll never graduate." Shaking her head, Fy nods agreement with the Healer info. "Definitely. It's a skill you should be proud of. I'm not sure what I'd like to do. Toyed with the idea of a weyrlingmaster position, or even one of the wingleader/wingseconds if they're available. We'll see though." Even if it will be upon them soon enough. "Imagine S'titch, as a wingleader?" She tries not to, but does break into a giggle fit. Imagine!

Wyn shakes her head, looking droll. "Oh they'd have to let you out eventually..." she drawls. "After you cause them all gastric ulcers or something else stress related." She looks cheerful at the thought, and then the thought of S'titch as a wingleader teases a laugh from her as well. "Oh by the Egg... Oh dear... I can just see it now. Heavens, but could you think of what sort of initiation rituals a wing with him at the head would have?"

Fyria shudders at the thought. "I'd rather not, to be honest. Though I'm sure that he'd figure out a way to involve lace. Lots of it. In every colour known to the weavers, and then some as well. Oh, y'know? I wonder what he thinks of puce?" Sudden fond memories of It return. "Personally, I'd love to find something he /didn't/ like, and stuff his couch full of it. Just to annoy him." Fy grins rather deviously with this thought, eyes reflecting a mind at work.

Wyn rubs at her chin thoughtfully at this turn of conversation. A sip of klah is taken, and then she ponders some more. "Well, he's decidedly not fond of plain, sensible colours... As for fear..." Back to thinking. "Hmm, you know he was the one Candidate that never joined the Wraiths? And he's terrified of N'zgul. He came and hid in my couch the other day after he heard N'zgul was looking for the one who sewed lace onto his pillow." A shudder.

Fyria nearly falls over onto her cushion - see? She knew there was something going on between those too. A yawn interrupts what she was about to say, and suddenly she feels very, very, /very/ tired. Chalk it up to mucking out all those couches. "Speaking of couches, I think I'm going to head for mine, if you'll excuse me. I've another long day of bowl cleaning, it seems. Oh, and you're /more/ than welcome to assist Tev and I." Grin. Fy hops off her cushion, stretches, and begins to amble towards Urzketh and her cot.

Wyn gives a nod, and retreats to her own couch. "I think I'd best do likewise. If only to guard it from hiding Weaverboys. And actually, Fyria, I'll clean my own couch out at least. It isn't your fault that your dragon has the mental maturity of a five turn old," she notes, before vanishing.