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Harper's Tale - Thursday, February 28, 2002,
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Great Hall
With a dome-shaped ceiling reaching up almost beyond the light cast by numerous glows surrounding the hall, this room can be none other than the Hold's great hall. The floor is solid grey stone, slightly worn from the hundreds of Turns of use it's been through. Four `tapestries' hang around the hall at seemingly random intervals, coloring the otherwise dull hall. An assortment of tables and chairs and couches are strewn about the hall for any who wish to take a rest during their labors, but mostly people are using the great hall as a center for moving to other places. Archways and doors lead everywhere, but the most dominant doors are the great double doors to the east, leading out to the courtyard.
To the east, you see Hoth.
Gliding around is Helena.
Alain is here.
Obvious exits:
Great Doors     Flying Mug     Dining Hall     Shops     Guard Office     Main Hallway     Crafthalls

Miralwyn strolls briskly out from the Healer areas, a basket on her arm, and a look in her eye suggesting that she's on a mission. Spotting Alain, she draws to a halt in front of him. "Follow me." she intones, moving towards the door again.

Alain blinks at Miralwyn, hugging the three scrolls in his arms closer to himself and gaping a moment. "Uh...um...to...excuse me? Where exactly are we going?" And, typical of men, he just -has- to follow her out of curiosity.

"You'll see." is all the reply Wyn will make, doubling back to take him firmly by the arm and guide him after her, face betraying no hint of what she's up to.

**TRAVEL SPAM**

You go to the Sea Caves.

Sea Caves
A maze of tunnels winds its way through the base of the ridge here. The floor underfoot is sandy, but sometimes during high tides the caves flood and fill with water. Bits of broken shells are scattered amid the sand. Light spills into the caves from the north and south. A small mouthlike opening yawns out of one of the rocky walls to the west, and a twisting passage disappears northwest into the darkness.
Alain is here.
Obvious exits:
North     Southwest
Alain is led in by Miralwyn.

Alain peers around the caves, looking perplexed to say the very least, and then turns to peer at Miralwyn. "Okay. So...now tell me what's going on." he orders, the slight raising of his intonation at the end of his sentence softening the order somewhat as one hand runs habitually through his hair.

Miralwyn hums slightly to herself, as she pulls a quartet of glowbaskets from her hamper, and arranges them in proper locations for better lighting. She then removes a blanket and spreads it over the sand, before arranging a series of goodies on wrapped trays, and a sealed carafe of juice on top of it. Cups are procured, and only then does she speak. "I needed a break, and I wanted company. Scone?"

Alain all but chokes as the glows and the blanket and the food appear and he just gapes down at her for a long moment. Finally, he blurts, "Do you have -any- idea how much trouble I could get in--" no, not we...-I-, "--if -Andron- came in here!?" Okay, so ignore the fact that Andron hasn't been seen out of his room for the last turn or so except on hold business.

Miralwyn arches an eyebrow, and pours each cup full of juice. "Alain. Don't flatter yourself. I brought you here for company, not sex." She offers one to him. "Redfruit berry blend. So, how are you doing?" she inquires smoothly.

Alain rolls his eyes, "Do you -really- think I'd have to -sleep- with you to get in trouble!?" He flops down on the blanket and goes to work pulling his shoes off. "Hmph. You obviously don't know my true talent for getting a lordly screw-over. And -not- in a good way." he adds with a brief glare toward Wyn.

Miralwyn appears impervious to glares. "Hmm... I could say the exact thing about my dear, mad, mentor. Who has several interesting theories to explain your tug-o-war with Aerrin over the remains of the braid." Which she doesn't elaborate on at the moment, instead nibbling on one of the scones. "On the subject of that incident, I take it from your tone that Andron doesn't only love you for your hair?"

Alain coughs slightly and shakes his head. "Of course not." Of course Andron does not just love him for his hair or of course she's not right in her assumption? Heh. Don't you wish you knew. "What did you say you'd got to drink?" He tosses his shoes off to the side and leans toward Wyn to peer, hands busily rolling up his trouser cuffs.

"Redfruit-berry blend juice," repeats Miralwyn in a patient tone. "I have a section test tomorrow morning, and Infirmary duty later on, so the last thing I need is a hangover. It's quite well tasting, however." The second poured glass is held out again for the taking. "Speaking of which, how go your days of drudgery under Aerrin's command?"

Alain heaves a sigh, finishing the the second leg of his trousers and leaning back on his elbows. "She hates me. I can tell she just wants to stick those needlethorns in the back of my head. But...at least she didn't demand my knot." He heaves a frustrated sigh. "Why does everyone have to be such a pain about--" he blushes slightly, "--about everything?"

Miralwyn raises an eyebrow, and likewise leans back on her elbows, although with a great deal more starch to the posture then Alain. "Huh. Jathen dropped /my/ punishment the second Aerrin was out of the room. Although don't tell her that." His final comment prompts another twitch of the same eyebrow. "Everything is a rather large topic. Define 'everything' for me?"

Alain heaves a sigh, "Miralwyn, you are -not- my mindhealer. Don't act like you are. Sometimes I think you're my friend and sometimes..." He eyes her for a long moment, "I think you're using me to get something you want."

Miralwyn regards him levelly, with just a faint trace of resigned amusement touching the corners of her mouth. "Alain, what in Faranth's name could you possibly have that I want?" she inquires. "And what leverage do you have, that I could abuse? And what would I need leverage for in the first place." A headshake. "You're far too suspicious."

Alain snorts at that, "People don't have to have social status to have desirable traits." He runs a hand through his hair, again, and reaches for the nearest dish. "What did you bring besides juice?" Maybe he's just trying to avoid a fight.

"Didn't say you didn't have desirable traits, Alain." corrects Miralwyn mildly. "But traits... are a personal matter. One cannots share of their personality to augment another's. And I believe I have /some/ integrity. So trust me, I'm not attempting to use you." she assures, before pointing out and uncovering the plates of goodies. "Meatrolls, scones, some cheese wedges, and a plate of cookies."

"Mmmm...cheese. Gimme." Alain raises an eyebrow and reaches for a glass, "And some juice? Please?" Awww...he -does- have manners after all. "As to your having integrity," he eyes her for a moment and smirks a little, "Well, you're loyal...relatively."

Miralwyn hands over the glass and the cheese in question, after cutting a wedge for herself. "There you go, 'an it please ye," she twinkles slightly. "And I'm glad to hear your approval of my moral fiber. Even if it's... faint."

Alain snorts softly, eyeing Wyn suspiciously. "You know...you're really very frightening. I'm sure you're doing -something- that I'm not aware of...I dunno if you're studying me or trying to get me drunk to seduce me or trying to get me kicked out of the craft or...or just ruin my reputation...but there's -something- going on in that head of yours."

Miralwyn nods slightly, emotionlessly. "There usually is." she notes. "As there is in most heads. I study almost everyone I meet, to some extent or another, but as for the next three..." Emotion returns in the folk of a very slight twinkle in her eye. "Getting drunk on non-alchoholic juice would be a difficulty. According to /you/, I've already seduced you. Unlike Crabbet and Goylear, you haven't done anything worthy of evil machinations, and as for your reputation..." she pauses and looks innocnet. "/What/ reputation?"

Alain snorts. "Evil." he murmurs, burying his nose in his glass and peering over the rim at Wyn for a long moment as he downs half the glass. Setting the juice aside, he sets to nibbling at his cheese. Mouse Alain(tm). Cute. But he doesn't say anything. How eerie is that?

"Quite." is Wyn's reply, a world of subtle meanings woven into the word. Then she, too, silences, sitting in the shadows cast by the glows and sipping at her juice with a regal air.

Alain continues to just sit there and peer somewhat discreetly at Wyn. He shifts his position, leaning forward to rest an arm on his bent knees, and reaches for a cookie. He studies Wyn for a moment, then gives a brief glance at the cookie before beginning to munch on it, returning to his somewhat obvious staring.

Miralwyn notes the regarding of her personage with an amused twitch of her lips. She continues to sip her juice, and then tilts her head slightly to peer back at Alain, looking dry, and subtly trying to make him laugh.

Alain doesn't laugh...and indeed, doesn't even seem to notice she may be trying to make him laugh. But his eyes flicker to her lips briefly, and then to her hair and then trace the lines of her body. When his gaze finally returns to her face, he leans forward just a little and murmurs, "You'd look really good in red, you know."

Miralwyn blinks slightly, as the conversation takes a hard right turn away from whatever thoughts she'd been pondering. Likely, the latest mindhealing scroll, and a handful of rotten limericks. "Red...?" she queries.

Alain nods slightly and reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of her face, hand freezing there. After a moment, he retracts his hand and sits back, peering quietly at Miralwyn, a pensive look on his face. "Hm." Is his deep comment, finally, and he takes another sip of juice.

"Hm..?" repeats Miralwyn in the same tone of polite puzzlement as the 'Red'. Although she lets him brush her hair out of the way. She shakes her head slightly, and nibbles on a meatroll. "Alain..." she notes quietly. "You're getting the same look those Weavers did before they pounced on me. Don't scare me like that..."

Alain snorts softly--a little amused sound...or something like that. "I wasn't thinking about giving you a make-over." he promises solemnly, though quietly, and reaches to pour himself more juice.

"It's not funny." protests Wyn mildly. "You should /see/ the Gather dress I ended up with. Jathen will skin me alive if he sees me so much as twitch while wearing it." Although apparently, she realizes that sympathy from Alain on this point probably won't be forthcoming, and switches topics. "What were you thinking about, then?" No trace of the mindhealer in the query, just a neat little conversational dodge.

Alain sets down his glass as Wyn begins talking and really doesn't let her get half way through her last sentence before shifting to his hands and knees and moving forward to press his lips against Wyn's. Oy...he seems glutton for punishment...just looking for another fist in the face.

"Mmfff..." Miralwyn's next question is lost in the kiss. She leans forward, and deepens the embrace with a quiet passion before shaking her head and drawing away as another thought takes her, although her hands remain on his shoulders, keeping him at arm's length. "Alain... we have to stop doing this..." she notes quietly.

Alain's eyes are closed as he's pushed away, but they blink open quickly as Wyn speaks, and he suddenly looks...very horrified. "Oh, Faranth! I'm sorry! I'm...-so- sorry." he insists, hastily scooting away. "I can't believe I just...I'm sorry. Really I am." Gee, I wonder if he's sorry.

Miralwyn sighs, and reaches out a hand to firmly grab hold of his wrist, and keep him from scrabbling too far away. "Alain... don't be sorry. You're wonderful. And I enjoyed those two interludes very much. But if we keep this up, eventually we'll get caught..." she cautions, her expression infinitely gentle. "And I can't afford to fail, Alain. I can't afford to lose what I've managed to get so far."

Alain shakes his head, all but gaping at Miralwyn. "Do...do you really think..." He shakes his head again, this time more firmly as if to clear it, "Getting caught is the -last- thing on my mind." he blurts, gently prying Wyn's fingers off his wrist and reaching for his shoes. "I don't--you're my friend, Wyn." He pushes himself to his feet, blushing deeply and making a point of brushing the sand off his trousers. "But that's all." he murmurs, not raising his eyes to meet hers.

Miralwyn sniffs quietly, a muffled laugh. "Ah yes... somehow I rather think it /is/ the last thing on your mind." she agrees. "And I realize that's all. I said as much to you the first time, didn' I? And you know me. I don't do love." she reassures. "But... I think we need to focus a little more on being friends and a little less on our hormones." is her decree, still faintly flushed and with her breathing a touch high, despite the iron self-control attempting to descend again.

Alain shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, face still flushed a deep red, and he murmurs, "I need to go. I have to...um...I need to go." And he turns to do so. "I'll see you tomorrow in classes. And...I -am- sorry." he adds again, softly as he peers over his shoulder.

Miralwyn nods, and gives a little wave, restraining her mindhealer tendancies. Isn't that nice of her. "Yes, I will see you tomorrow." she assures. "And you don't need forgiveness for a thing, Alain. My friend." She begins to pack up the remains of the picnic dinner, and stow them back in the basket. "I'll head back a little while after you, if you like. Give you some time to get away, if you want it."

Alain gives a short nod, and then turns and all but flees out of the cave.
Alain walks north.