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Harper's Tale 2 - Thursday, July 04, 2002, 7:29 PM
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The Vor Imperium
Grey granite vaults upwards to form the high cathedral's ceiling of the main part of the weyr, cool and solid, undecorated but for the sparkle of light refracted from quartz veins streaking the walls: an ancient weyr, but one carved partially by the hand of man, and not the forces of volcanism. The standard large, raised couch is located off to one side, away from the short entry tunnel to the ledge, all the better to block winter winds with. Across from it sits a massive 'hearth'. A braided rug, a quartet of elderly 'chairs' and a large wine crate converted to a coffee table stand in front of it, while neat pegs and shelves appear alongside. Near the back, the cavern arcs downwards, ceiling height dropping rapidly to form the demarcation between human areas and draconic, a series of heavy 'curtains' patterned in a conservative blue and silver available to provide privacy to the 'inner weyr', drawn back partially to permit glimpses of the mystery within. A somewhat lumpy mound of sand almost goes unnoticed here.
The ancient and cool tang of stone mixes with a warmth of rich leather, accented with faint traces of some dusky cologne and the barest hint of fine whiskey. Decidedly masculine, like the blue who lives here, and with only a few touches of the clean sharp scents of citrus and redwort to indicate Wyn's contribution to the atmosphere of the weyr.
On the ledge, you see a blue dragon.
Peering from a crevasse in the wall are two firelizards.
You see Grey Leather Satchel, Old Marble Chess Set, Summer Sky Egg, Ye Olde Hatchyng Rooles ('read rules'), Hearth, Curtains, Inner Weyr, and Chairs here.
Obvious exits:
Ledge

Vorkoroth> Dsalth soars in for a landing.

Vorkoroth senses Dsalth is much more sombre and subdued today, his voice creakingly slow <<Is your rider up for a visitor, Vorkoroth? We are ever so sorry she was threadscored. My P'rru would like to check it out.>>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that his greeting is likewise subdued and quiet, the whirls and bright flashes of his mind toned to a slight rippling on a field of navy. <<She has said she wishes to be alone... but I sense that she would like some company in spite of her words. Tell him that he is welcome.>>

Vorkoroth> Dsalth swings in then, landing with a light backwing and a low croon towards the blue. P'rru shakily dismounts, steadies himself against his dragon's shoulder and then turns to nod his head at the blue. "Thank you there" he notes, words slightly furry round the edges. He's as tanked as a skunk. But in he goes nonetheless.

Vorkoroth> Dsalth watches with interest as P'rru descends carefully

Vorkoroth senses Dsalth thinks << Thank you >>

Vorkoroth> P'rru heads deeper into the Vor Imperium.
P'rru marches officiously in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

Wyn is seated by her hearth, staring blankly into the unlit space, still clad in her riding gear, but with her jacket off and her sleeveless undertunic displaying a freshly treated medium shoulder score in all it's icky glory. Wyn's oblivious to this, though, surrounded by a pile of wineskins and halfway into her second one.

P'rru walks very carefully in through the doorway, pausing to survey the scene. Rapid blink. Scrub at his chin. "Wyn? I've just come to visit you and your scoring, a check up if you will...not that I'm a healer but, I have to sit down.." Purr tends to ramble slightly when inebriated, and he just scuttles across towards the hearth, sitting heavily down in a chair. "Are you in pain, petdear?"

Wyn rolls her head back in a wobbly fashion, attempting to bring P'rru into a Benden-hazed focus. "Yer drunk." she intones in a seriously intent tone. "Thas' good. So'm I. Not drunk 'nuff, though." she muses, eyeing the wineskin in her hand and taking another swig. "No. Not nearl' drunk 'nuff." A long pause, and even about 8 glasses of wine aren't enough to completely dull the bewildered pain in her eyes. "I can still /hear/ 'em, P'roo." she finally manages to say. "Over and over. Scores don't mean /anything/ compared t' that."

P'rru was there of course. At least icly so. "You stop drinking that.." he notes, coughing slightly to attempt to clear the husk from his throat. "More wine won't do you any good, you' got to keep your wits- yes keep your wits about you. No need to have an accident or.." The brownrider squinches his eyes shut for a moment, then flicks them slowly open once more. "Poor bloody D'renn. He was such a good man, poor bloody Lis...it's the ones they leave behind that's the worst, petdearpet.." He rambles, huffing back into his chair. "Yknow, in 30 turns of riding, I've seen half my clutch disappear between, old riders go between on their own when they've had enough...even a weyrlings disappear in training. Doesn't get any bloody easier.."

Wyn doesn't let the wineskin drop, but /does/ stop drinking from it, at least. Jack the feline, meanwhile, somehow sensing distress even inside the schizophrenic pathways of her brain, is busily engaged in offering a raspy purr and trying to snuggle up to the little bluerider, who seems to be ignoring her completely. "Lis... and little Donis, too. Faranth, Purr, I wish I could... help them somehow." A bitter little laugh, her diction clear but slow. "Here I am, with Mindhealer training, and I can't even deal with my /own/ grief. It's like this every time? How do you go on?"

P'rru just shakes his head slowly, his hand ringing round the back of his neck. "We do. Because next time thread falls, it's in the blood, the instinct, and we'll rise up again to flame it. Riders die all the time, didn't your weyrlings teach -you- that? That's why we're so ...so...loved by our beholden..." he gives the appropriate heroic speech and then sighs. "I don't know. Lis might not be the same again, to lose a weyrmate...shells, he's our weyrsecond, Wyn!" Ramble, but he turns to glance at her, focus askew. "Your score..how bad is it? In the kerfuffle afterwards I didn't get time..it's -my- fault, child. My fault. I'm sorry, we're s'posed to be there to take care of you." Once more, fault obviously lies with him and he reaches across to attempt to take her wineskin.

Wyn clings to the skin all the more tightly, like some small child clutching a comforting stuffed toy. Jack, getting tired of being ignored, bats playfully at it. Look. I'm purring. Pat me, you fool. Wyn does manage to uncoil enough to offer a tentative ear-scratching as she nods to P'rru. "I know... I know. Shards, I lost my half-sister to a training accident a turn or two ago, even. But this... no amount of talking can really prepare you for it, y'know?" she rambles as well, before turning her head to peer cautiously at her shoulder. "It... will leave an interesting scar, I think, but I know well enough how to tend a would that I shan't have any permanent loss of mobility. Only a bad flesh wound, after all. And Purr... it's not your fault. This wasn't /anyone's/ fault. Zigged when we should have zagged, the clumps were unpredictable... You know full well that even Esprit had injuries..." Oddly, reassuring someone else is helping /Wyn/ to focus a little better.

P'rru just shrugs and leaves off her skin, remembering he's got a flask still full in his coat pocket. So while the brownrider scurries around in there to find it, he nods along to her conversation. "Exactly, it's my fault, I should know when we ought to zag and not zig...shells, I'm sorry, Wyn, I'm so sorry.." He notes, finally finding the flask and opening it with thick fingers. "The queens shouldn't have been scored, they never do, it's the wings faults. We need to train together more. Tatia's right, more commun..commun...talk, yknow" He's sounding just drunk and sorry for himself really. Tomorrow he'll pretend he didn't say any of this. "I'm so glad Kezzra isn't a rider.." he huffs, changing topic and taking a deep swig from the flask.

And now that P'rru is no longer grabbing for her wineskin, Wyn... lets it drop, picking up the oddly-complacent Jack and snuggling the purring ginger fur. "We were maneuvering individually," she continues, more dull than bland. "It was still in the middle of the fall, before most of the others were hit. T'wasn't a /wing/ excercise, it was just me and Vor. And it was a hard fall. With just me and Ali getting hit, I think Mudslide did the best of any of the wings. You're a good leader, P'rru. I'm just... new."

P'rru just mulls that over for a few quiet moments. More flask-sipping. A burp. Nothing too exciting. But then the old brownrider remarks "You might be new, Wyn, but your a whole lot better than some of the other riders out there from clutches back..s'why your with us." Sage-nod. See, no-one can be crap if their a Mudslider. "Shards, listen to me. Wallowing away while nothing's really been done to me. I need slapped out of it..Dsalth's whinging, he hates when I drunk, I drink, rather.." Bobble.

"Slapping my wingleader would be cause for ins.. isn... insubordination charges." intones Wyn in an attempt at black humour that suffers a little from the clotted tongue lent by alchohol. A ladylike little belch. "So I guess you'll mebbe have to get Tatia to slap you... she's good at that, y'know," she allows philosophically, although there's still a slump to her shoulders and a weariness to her soul.

P'rru gives a rough chuckle "Oh sure, Tatia'd slap me..but I think she likes me since Sii'kyn's being sorted out..." He's happy just to sit there, fondling the hipflask and studying his fingernails. "Everywhere out there people are upset..well not everywhere but. I don't want to bother with it. Can't they just retreat to their weyrs?" His lips harden, a message sent from Dsalth. "Shells, Tevya was scored too.."

Wyn gives a slow nod. "Fyria, Tevya, N'zgul and I, from my clutch. We were all scored. And S'titch..." And here, she just /has/ to smile, even in the midst of all the gloom, "S'titch lost half the lacework on his riding leathers, but was otherwise unharmed. He screamed like he was about to go ::between:: and stay--" She trails off as it occurs to her that one of her stock phrases is just a little too close to home today, the levity killed off nearly as quickly as it arose. "You going to visit her too?" she inquires at last, searching for a 'safe' topic.

P'rru finds himself actually smiling at the image of S'titch and his lace, but like Wyn, the brownrider turns sombre once more. "Yes, well, Tsunami's lucky to have him.." he notes, referring to the greenrider. A hand sweeps across his forehead "Aye, I'll visit them all. It's the right thing to do.." Burp. Definately not Purr-like to do that in company.

Wyn gives a nod. "I think... once I'm sober and this" A tap in the area of her scoring. "is a little less prone to tearing, I'll likely be out and about as well. If... there's anything I can do to help people, do let me know...?" she asks, suddenly just as serious but looking perhaps a little more hopeful at the prospect of helping... somehow.

P'rru gives a nod, pushing up out of the chair. His feet don't tend to want to obey, and he anchors himself with the chairback gently "Aye. Dsalth will be checking in on each and everyone of us, Wyn. If there's any who are...well more affected, I might call on you. Such a sensible girl." The brownrider tucks his flask into his pocket, and reaches over to pat the bluerider on the head awkwardly. Hey, that's like major cuddliness from him, y'know. "You take care of yourself. And if..well I think a few riders will be crashing in my weyr tonight- you come over if you want to" Yeah, Uncie Purr takes care of them.

Wyn would probably be slightly freaked out at a more excessive display of cuddliness, so a pat on the head is just fine by her. Purr's a surrogate Dad, almost. Old brownrider. Comfortable brown dragon. Lots of kids. Likes wine. The resemblance is frightening, come to think of it. She gives P'rru a little smile, and then gets to her own feet, a trifle more steadily, as Purr had interrupted her before /serious/ boozing was accomplished, and offers a steadying arm, should one be needed. "I'll... visit if I feel the need, then. But I think that I might just spend an evening with Vorkoroth and Jack, first off. I... need to get my head together, if I am to be of any help to anyone else."

P'rru gives a half-smile then. "Well just remember our ledge is wide, Kezzra will be ordering a glut of food up, Skylark will nurse injuries.." he notes, chin flickered at with gnarled fingers. "Now, I can walk, alright. Dsalth will probably sling me home by the cuff of my shirt.." and rambling thus, he wanders out.