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Harper's Tale 2 - Friday, May 31, 2002, 9:03 PM You soar in for a landing on Urzketh's ledge. Urzketh's Balcon en Cristal Urzketh eats Vorkoroth. You part the cascading strands of amethyst beads as you head into the depths
of the weyr. Fyria is humming somewhat quietly to herself, facing the rack of shelves against the wall as she rearranges a few things, steps back, frowns, then moves to rearrange them again. A pot of klah sits bubbling on the hearthfire, a single mug set upon the low coffee table in front of it. An encouraging rumble from out on the ledge precedes a quiet alto greeting from the direction of the exit to the ledge, Wyn on a mission from Vorkoroth to fledge out her nebulous social skills. "Hello... Fyria?" Fyria perks a brow at her name, though Urzketh's finally learnt the fine art of warning his lifemate of impending visitors. Thus, her face bears a smile as she turns towards Wyn, quickly strolling over to give her a warm, welcoming hug. "Wyn! Well it's about time you and Vorkoroth came to visit..." She waves a hand towards the couch even as she hunts for a second mug. "Have a seat, the klah's almost ready..." Wyn tugs off her gloves, and stows them neatly in a pocket of her leathers, scuffing her feet a moment, before venturing the rest of the way into the weyr, a most promising bulge in the jacket pulled out to reveal a wineskin, identifiable as Benden Private Reserve by the markings. "Ah yes," she allows. "I rather suppose it is. Vorkoroth was quite adamant about it, as a matter of fact. I do like what you've done with the place," she offers, before somewhat awkwardly extending the wineskin. "Ah, here. Happy weyrwarming, or whatever the proper phrase is. It's a good vintage." Fyria's eyes light up with pleasure at seeing the bottle, fingers grasping the neck and turning it with an obvious look of approval on Fy's face. "Well, you've outdone yourself, Wyn! Thanks...we'll save this for when we've a crowd gathered to appreciate the stuff." Setting the bottle on a shelf, she goes over and pours two mugs of klah, returning to hand one to Wyn with a wink. "Thanks. I'm still in the midst of rearranging, and of course Urzketh thinks I'm totally insane." A following rumble from the ledge confirms this, as does Fy's eyeroll. "Sweetening and milk are there if you need 'em. How's your weyr coming along?" "Black suits me admirably, thanks," replies Wyn, taking her mug and nursing it briefly, before perching on the nearest handy seat. "And I rather think that all dragons find their lifemates a trifle on the odd side. My weyr is fairly close to completion. I've finished refinishing my chairs and tables now, so once I manage to settle on a Weaver for my tapestries, I should be finished. Perhaps a few more throw pillows." Fyria nods as she blows on her hot klah, the steam curling into faint wisps which float in the air. "I thought about tapestries myself, but after seeing these walls," and she turns her gaze upon the various striations which twinkle in the glowlight. "I thought 'why cover natural beauty?'. So my walls will be bare, though the ceiling.." One hand points upwards, indicating Wyn to glance up as well. "That stays." Wyn nods. "We're not having too many," she replies on the matter of tapestries, grey gaze obligingly following Fyria's gesture. "Simply two tall, thin ones on either side of the hearth to emphasize the height if the ceiling, and draw the eye to its lines." And We've got Wyn talking like a decorator again. She silences, however, as the effect of the ceiling sinks in. An appreciative "Ahhh..." follows. Fyria blinks at Wyn with a faint smile, one slender finger waggling at her clutchmate. "If I didn't know any better, Wyn, I'd say you've a bit of a decorator's streak in you." She rises then, sweeping her hand out around the weyr. "Have I given you the grand tour, and showed you the ultimate surprise I found when I moved in?" Wyn offers a faint laugh in reply. "Oh, you call it correctly," she admits. "I have a decorator's streak in that I know what I like, if you want to call it that. But no," she comments, nursing her mug of klah. "This is the first time that Vorkoroth's convinced me to go visiting, so by all means, tour away." Fyria nods her head and rises, heading towards the direction of the bathing pool. Parting yet another beaded curtain with her hand, she steps aside with a nod to Wyn. "After you, my dear. The crowning glory of this little weyr lies just beyond." Even as she speaks, a faint scent of lavender drifts outwards, along with a hint of moisture from the water within. Wyn sniffs lightly, before nodding appreciatively, and rising to follow Fyria, her mug still cradled in one hand. "I can hadly wait to see this wonder," she drawls, trotting along and ducking through the beads. Fyria parts the sparkling curtain of crystalline light as she enters the
bath, revealing a glimpse of the pool beyond. Piscine en Cristal Fyria gives Wyn a wink as she walks into the bathing cavern, waving her hand with a little, extravagant bow. "Tada. Welcome to my little piece of privacy, known as my own bathing pool." Okay, so she gloats /just/ a wee bit. Can you blame her? "Faranth's great golden forearm," is Wyn's reverent oath. "I can see why you haven't been seen outside your weyr much lately, during your time home" she allows. Or outside Kh'ryn's weyr, or... But Wyn's not one to gossip, after all. "Yes, this is certainly worth bragging over." Fyria is quite pleased by Wyn's reaction, even as she herself scans the bathing room. "I'll take that as an approval, Wyn." She points out the various decor in the room, only to give hre a quick wink. "Yep. Can you blame me, especially in all this cold?" And as for Kh'ryn, well...we won't go there. Yet. Though Fy's been there. Multiple times. Well, at least until Wyn's curiosity gets the better of her, we won't. A dryly amused nod. "You may take it as that," she agrees, before flickering an eyebrow. "So... any plans for weyrwarmings, oh Wingleader?" Wyn's not much of a party animal, obviously, but parties are excellent sources of people-watching amusement. Fyria rolls her eyes at the title 'wingleader', one hand waving at Wyn with mock annoyance. "Oh will you cut it out, Wyn. We're /clutchmates/...the whole wingleader thing is...well.." Okay, so it /is/ a big deal. Shaking her head, she beckons Wyn to follow her once more. "I'll show you the sleeping alcove, though be forewarned. I think Kare's still in there, asleep. Just poke your head in." Fyria reluctantly parts the curtain of crystalline beads, leaving a soft
tinkling sound in her wake. Maison en Cristal des Desirs "Important to you," finishes Wyn with a Mindhealer's smile. "You needn't play falsely modest around me, wingmate of mine. Lylia certainly made you work hard enough for it." And then she nods and lowers her tone to a quiter one, not wishing to wake sleeping weyrhealers. You gently swim through the floundering strands of crystalline light, stepping into the small sleeping alcove. Chambre en Cristal Fyria shhhs softly, giving Wyn a wink as she points to the breathing lump of weyrhealer on her bed. "My second favourite cavern," she whispers. "And that's about it, to be honest. come on...we can sit in the main weyr." Turning on a heel, she shluffs off towards the couch near the hearth. With a gentle motion, you part the strands of crystalline light, making your
way back to the weyr itself. Fyria sashays and shimmies her....self in from the Chambre en Cristal. Wyn is smiling with quiet amusement as she pads out after Fyria, returning to perch on the seat she'd vacated earlier. "Well, I must say congratulations to you on a fine weyr," she allows. "Mine has size going for it, but I do believe yours qualifies as cozier." Although Wyn, personally, rather likes the ascetic look. Aside from her personal horde of pillows. Fyria nods her thanks as she leans back onto a cushion, looking thoughtfully at the bluerider. "I'm definitely going to hold an official weyrwarming party (note, different from a weyr /christening/ party), so keep your eyes open. It'd be a shame /not/ to have a party in here." Or a bordello, to boot. Make it both? Hey, if weyrs are supposed to be centres of debauchery and liscentiousness to the Holdbred, one wouldn't want to disappoint them. "Then you'll find me as one of your guests," allows Wyn. "Sii'kyn and Lhana have informed me that I'll be holding one of my own, so I do believe I ought to go to a few and see how they're organized." "And I'd have to agree with them that the idea is fabulous, in itself. So in actuality, this means we'll have a good two sevendays of partying to look forward to?" Fy quirks a grin, followed by a loud, huge yawn. "Shells...I think I overdid it today. Never knew this all would be so /exhausting/..." Setting her empty mug on the table, she flops onto the couch with an audible oof. Wyn looks curiously from over the rim of her mug, and seems about to say something, but some bit of good manners closes her mouth on the words. A few more sipsof the black klah are taken, before she pauses again, and this time permits to curiosity to get the better of her. "Ah well," she notes quietly, with a cautious glance towards the curtained off sleeping area. "From what I've had told to me, you've been rather... busy..." Fyria catches that look, flushing a rather lovely shade of crimson along the edges of her tunic. "And what's that supposed to mean, hmm?" she teases, giving Wyn a wink. "You know, I think you need to get yourself one of those, my dear." And Fyria doesn't mean just a healer. Though they /are/ rather nice, in her personal opinion, biased as it is. "Just wait till Vork chases. You'll be just as busy, for sure." Wink. "Oh undoubtedly," agrees Wyn simply. "Although really, Fy, my bed is not as cold as you seem to think it is..." And now it's time for the bland bluerider to offer a shiver of a wink. "And as for what my comment meant... I believe your blush explained it quite nicely, my dear. Although if you want some unsought advice..." Another quick glance towards Kariel's sleeping place. "You'll want to have a care about whose dragons see you leaving from a supposed tryst, or you'll have an upset weyrhealer on your hands. Vorkoroth is reasonably discreet, for a dragon, but many are not. and it only takes one well meaning person to let slip the wrong word..." Wyn raises a calmly placating hand and finishes the rest of her klah. "Don't bite at /me/, Fy. /I/ certainly don't care to tell you how to manage your lovelife. But I'd much rather not have to cover for you on duties if you suddenly have your personal life collapse and bury you." Eyes unfocus as the latest bulletin from Vorkoroth arrives, and she sets her empty mug down, tugging her gloves back on. "Ah, I'm being summoned. Apparently S'titch wants to redecorate my weyr while I'm out. |