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Harper's Tale 3 - Friday, July 05, 2002, 5:46 PM
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The Flying Mug
A few shades too bright for the lighting to ever be called quite dim, the interior of the Flying Mug reveals upon closer inspection the marks of a much-frequented bar. Although the tables all match and the chairs are of a set, one or seven chairs have a wobbly leg, a few tabletops have big gashes across them, and each surface has an intricate pattern of turn-old mug rings. A well stocked, well polished and well maintained bar stretches across the expanse of the wall, facing the series of shuttered windows looking out on the courtyard. The bar stools are better maintained than the chairs, with low backs. And they spin, too! An intricate 'mural' covers the ceiling and there's a 'note' on the wall.
High in the rafters are twenty-five firelizards.
You see Hinei, Randell, Nemo, Jay, and Bartender Lem here.
Yarden, Leolin, Lhana, Marchlind, Remy, and Talyquin are here.
Obvious exits:
Dining Hall     Great Hall
You stand in the rather rambunctious Flying Mug.

Marchlind smirked slightly. "I don't want to be a liablity, though. I guess you're right. I'll just relax and let what happens happen, I suppose." She smiled at Lhana thankfully, and heaved a relieved sigh. It was slightly scary, the notion of letting her fate to chance, but what else could she do? Not much, given the circumstances.

Leolin looks a bit taken back by that last comment, "A haircut?" His eyes widen before looks at Lhana with a lifted eyebrow, "Haircut as it how short of a haircut?" He's cut it short before and he looked like a rodent that just got in a bad fight and was missing half of it's hair.

Lhana waves a hand dismissively at Marchlind's concerns for being a liability. "Awww, nobody notices if one or even twelve people aren't working in a place this size." So there. Leolin's resistance earns a look of annoyance from Lhana. He was /supposed/ to agree. Ever heard the song 'Any Man of Mine'? That's Lhana's philosophy on men. But I digress. "Well," she says, straightening up and practically putting her nose in the air, "if you don't /want/ a haircut, I suppose it's your decision..." Yeah right.

Marchlind leans back in her chair, pondering what could happen with her life since she'd chosen to flee her home and her parents. She keeps an ear on the conversation going on, lost in her own thoughs slightly.

Leolin eyes Lhana, "Don't put words in my mouth. I just want to know how short your talking." He leans back in the chair and looks at Lhana, "You've never seen me with short hair and I promise you that you don't want to. It's not a pretty site." Jay comes back to him and is picked up and set in his lap, eyes never leave Lhana.

Morallen ambles in from the outside world, a scroll under his arm providing an admirable sort of prop, in case a ranking Healer should appear with a glint of homework in their eye. Good-humoured hazel eyes blinks slightly at the gathered crowd, before sprawling with a lazy grace into his favourite chair, and waggles a hand at a drudge passing nearby. "Redfruit/citron blend, if you've got it?" he inquires, attempting an endearingly hopeful look in hopes of better service.

Marchlind glances at Morallen

Lhana is displeased with this boy. If there were some sort of Man Shop you could go to to get new ones, she would doubtless trade him in. But though these places really /should/ exist, they don't, and therefore Lhana is stuck with this imperfect boy. Therefore, she contents herself with just giving Leolin a haughty look and saying, "I suppose not." Hmph. How dare he try and tell her what to do. Nobody's allowed to do /that/ but Zhesteth, and she only gets away with it because she's inside Lhana's head. And besides that, she's just so darn /cute/. Morallen's entrance earns a double-take from Lhana, who also adds a sugary-sweet, "Hello there!"

Marchlind she glances at Morallen as Lhana addresses him, not sure when she's ever met so many new people in her /life/. She twirls a strand of red hair around her finger and bites down on her lower lip, then turns back and tries to picture Leolin with no hair and a shiny blad head. She bursts out with a short laugh and then stifles it, smirking.

Leolin shrugs it off before he goes back to his wine that is a drink from gone. Taking that drink he lets out a sigh and leaves back, a bit of hair stays over his crystal gaze but not much. Eyes are now on Jay who is laying in the boy's arms, paws over one arm and head resting on it. Lion runs is fingers in the pup's hair as he looks down at the sleeping thing. A exreamly soft side of Lion now shows.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Talyquin off to bed.

The lanky Healer, who of course is Morallen, isn't unaware of Lhana's double-take, and an amused smirk touches his lips before he wipes it away to be replaced with a more generally-friendly one as his juice is delivered. "Hello yourself, greenrider," he replies in a light tenor accented with an interesting mingling of Benden drawl and Fortian precision. "What brings such a lovely face all the way down from 'Reaches?"

Lhana smiles at Morallen, all but ignoring Leolin now. He has to apologize first. Marchlind's little laugh earns a surprised glance, but her gaze quickly shifts back to the healer. Awww. He knows she's a greenrider. He can read a knot. Awww. "Oh, you know," she says, her tone casual. "The scenery." She smiles. "My name's Lhana, by the way, rider of Zhesteth, Tsunami wing. And you are...?"

Marchlind chews another nail and glances from Lhana to Morallen and back.

Leolin doesn't know to apologize so won't. His mind is else where, eyes on his little Jay and he doesn't even notice that Lhana is ignoring him. Leaning over he lightly kisses the top of the puppy's head, "Love ya Jay." He whispers softly to the little dog who sleeps soundly in his arms. Blue eyes are soft and most of his hair is behind his ears, except for his bangs that are almost always infront or by his eyes.

Marchlind giggles

Lhana goes home.

Marchlind yawns, holding a hand over her mouth.

Morallen quirks an eyebrow as he glances over at Leolin, and around at the other males decorating the bar, indicating unconsciously what sort of 'scenery' he thinks Lhana's interested in. Not that he disapproves, of course. The sight of Leolin's puppy prompts a quick 'awwww' sort of look, before Rallen has it occur to him that self-respecting men probably do not 'awww'. He's about to make a reply to Lhana when... the greenrider vanishes. And so his "Morallen... er, Wyn's older brother," is left to hang in the air all alone.

Marchlind chuckles slightly.

Leolin keeps his eyes on the pup, no longer caring if Lhana left or who is awwing him. He really doesn't have a care in the world right now. His eyes are focased on his true friend. The one who won't use him, boss him around, or turn around and start hating him.

Elas walks in from the great hall.

Marchlind peers at Leolin slightly, wondering if she should ask what's causing -that- particular look to cross his face.

Alain walks in from the great hall.

Remy walks through a door into the great hall.

Elas walks over to the bar and takes a seat quietly, his mind seeming to be in a far away place.

Morallen just... eyes the silent twosome left in the Mug, flickers an eyebrow, shrugs, and slopes back to his seat with a nod to the arriving Elas as he settles into a sprawl. The scroll he'd brought along as a prop looks like it might actually get /read/, if this keeps up.

Marchlind peers at the entering people
Marchlind giggles

Leolin doesn't move or talk. Eyes just stay focased on the mutt in his arms. Of course if somebody says something to him or throws something at him he'll respond. If they wake his darling he may have to hurt them! She's has a hard day and the poor thing needs her rest.

Alain steps into the Mug and glances around, looking, in a word, weary. He rubs at his eyes a little, and strides across the room, making a beeline for Morallen's table, and dropping to sit next to his fellow healer. "Hey Ral." he murmurs, waving a drudge over and ordering something to eat and some klah. "Still reading those old things? I'm surprised they have anything on PT in the archives." all this has a point? Not really, he's just making conversation.

Elas looks around, then shakes his head as he remembers about the Craft Dinner tonight and slips back out of the Mug as silently as he entered.
Elas walks through a door into the great hall.

Marchlind glances at everyone, slightly overwhemeled by all the people she doesn't know. She gives a slight cough.

Leolin glances up at Alain cause he hears a voice speak up admist the silence. He looks over him carefully before eyes go back down to his mutt. When a drudge comes over to Lion and asks him if he wants anything he carefully puts a finger to his lips before he asks for some klah. Tried of wine now.

Morallen waves the scroll. "PT," he notes in an amused tone. "Isn't /that/ obscure a specialty. It's just that you Istanites have archives that are pathetic, compared to Fort Hall's." The older Healer takes a sip of his juice, before tilting his neck and self-adjusting a few erring vertebrae with the standard popping sounds. "So, how about you, though. Autopsies, was it?" And this is /perfectly/ acceptable talk while eating, of course."

Alain nods a little and shrugs somewhat apathetically. "Yeah. You know...someone told me the other day that I'm depressing." he shakes his head a little with mild disbelief. "I mean...I would have guessed it was the black clothes, but he said it wasn't. I guess it's my outlook on life." he actually starts looking amused at that. "I'm not actually -depressing- am I?"

Marchlind glances at Al

Morallen offers a snort, either amused or bemused. "Y'know, kid," he allows conversationally, "You've got the wrong member of my family, if you want a mindhealing analysis. But I wouldn't call you depressing." he admits at last. "/Warped/, yeah, but not depressing." He tilts his head the other way, then, triggering more cracks and pops. "So, out of curiosity, what /is/ your outlook on life?"

Leolin gets to his feet and starts to head out. Now that the pup is asleep it'll be easier to get home. Reaches is a bit of a ways to travel so he'd better head out.
Leolin picks up Jay.
Leolin walks through a door into the great hall.

Marchlind blinks as Leolin leaves, and raises an eyebrow slightly. Nothing like sitting by yourself.
Marchlind yawns, holding a hand over her mouth.

Alain actually -grins- at that, and sits back as his food and klah arrive. "I can agree to that." he nods, peering down at the food and listlessly pushing it aside, picking up the klah and taking a sip. "You actually want to know my outlook on life?" he replies, looking surprised at that and shaking his head a little in a, 'you really don't know what you're asking for' manner. "Ahem. Well...which part? Life, love, the pursuit of happiness? I guess if worst came to worst I could start writing poetry about it and then I'd be officially denounced by every Healer -and- Harper in the place. I dunno what got him started on my being depressing, though. I guess it was the part where I said I didn't expect to fall in love?" He shakes his head a little, and peers down at his klah--but doesn't actually manage to drink any more of it.

Marchlind continues to chew on a finger nail, not sure where to go or what to do next.

Morallen smirks amusedly and gestures with the hand holding his glass of juice. "Well, it seemed like a reasonable topic of conversation?" he hazards. "But not expecting to fall in love..." he muses, taking a sip of the tart blending of juices. "Y'know, that sounds almost like a direct quote from my little sister? Although admittedly, I can't blame her, I suppose.... But that's not my tail to tell." he cuts himself off before his remnisce can stray too far.

Alain ponders that a moment, and slowly replies, "Well...in her case I guess I think of it as being a little different. I mean, she has a -lifemate-. I've...well...another difference is I've -been- in love. And lived to rue the day..." he adds with something of a mirthless chuckle. "I guess people are masochists in a way...always looking to find someone else who they can give the power to break their heart to." and maybe -that's- why Graiham said Alain is depressing.

Marchlind smirks

"Wyn didn't always have a lifemate," notes Morallen in a low conversational tone. "And..." a pause. "Wyn's been in love too, before. But don't you tell her I told you, or she'll have that blue beastie of hers gut me, and then use me as an anatomy dummy." Mmm, lovely image. He twitches an eyebrow at the continued elaboration, though. "Y'know," he allows. "Wyn's told me I'm full of it before, when I told her this, but I do think that there /is/ someone out there for everyone, y'know? You can go and lock your heart in a box and be quite safe and painless... but being dead is pretty painless too, or so I've heard. Life's all about risk. Although, er, I guess neither you nor I ought to be thinking about pursuing /that/ sort of risk 'til we've made rank, no?"

Alain sets his mug down and leans forward on the table, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand, and peers at Morallen for a moment. When he speaks again, he drops his voice a little, grimacing a bit and asking, "So, what if you've already found--and lost--who ever your perfect match was?" Judging by the way he asks it, Alain is sure that this is the case with himself. But he shrugs a little and reverts to the topic of Wyn, "I guess it's possible she was in love with someone before I knew her...it just never occurs to me that we didn't always know each other, you know? Probably because me before I came to Healer seems like an entirely different person to me than me now." He pauses, going over the statement again to make sure he said it right, then nods. "Just so much has happened." he adds softly with a sigh.

Kiriya stealthily and gracefully stalks in from the great hall.

Marchlind glances at Kiriya

Morallen shrugs. "Well, if you lost them, then clearly they weren't your perfect match." he decrees. So Rallen's a bit of a romantic at heart, under the beach bum mien. So what. But he lets the conversation steer back towards his sister easily enough. "Yeah, I suppose I can see that. But as someone who helped change her nappies, then helped her tie her shoes, and then helped her pull her first prank, I can't see her just as that little shell she hides behind, eh? But you've got sisters, right? You know how it is." Whatever 'it' is, of course, is just not touched on, as Rallen spots a new arrival on the scene. "Kiri! Good day to you, and join us?"

"Sisters? Oho, you dunno nothing until you've met /mine/," Kiriya laughs as she enters the tavern and catches the conversation. "She gets all her tricks from me." Of course, Kiriya, the prankster queen of the healer hall, is apt to teach her younger sister some tricks of the trade. "Morallen! You handsome healer, you! Yes, I would." She strides over through the maze of tables to go greet and sit with her friend.

Alain actually stiffens at Morallen's words and looks about ready to pick up -that- argument with teeth bared and knives drawn, but he slumps in his chair, reaching for his mug--just something to fidget with, really--and shrugs, "Then I guess I'm not interested in finding my perfect match." He glances up, offering Kiriya a very thin nod, and returns his eyes to studying his mug.

Morallen, having a good few inches on Alain and being of a fairly affable nature in any case, probably wouldn't take a challenge from him in any case. "Well, from what I've seen... a perfect match isn't something you can /pursue/. Just happens, y'know?" The world according to Rallen, who's offering a smile to Kiriya, and scooting out a spare chair with one leg under the table. "As it should be. We older sibs /do/ have a duty to uphold after all," he banters back, before inquring "So... what /has/ brought the two of you to the Mug? Am I not the only one cutting Herbalry?"

"Oh yeah. Perfect matches are nearly impossible except in Impressions." Kiriya's had her share of imperfect ones- she's about to bust away from her current flame, being she hasn't seen him in over a Turn, and she's had at least one or two before that one. "I'm in the 'Mug because I'm thirsty. And I should be going to herbalry, really, since I'm horrible at it, but I think myself versed enough to be alright- besides! I know enough of poultices and salves and infusions and decoctions and whatnot that I think I deserve a good mug of klah." The healer senior appy rolls her eyes rather drolly at the mere notion of all that herbal knowledge. Taking the offered seat, Kiriya scoots in.

Alain shakes his head a little and flatly replies, "Faranth forbid everything we do is predetermined. If that's the case, I might as well just as a dragon to drop me /between/ right now...'cause I'm not looking foward to the rest of my life." He sits quietly staring at his mug for a moment, then snorts, "Wow. I guess I really am depressing, aren't I?" and he blinks up, fixing his eyes on Morallen, apparently expecting some form of affirmation.

Marchlind smirks

Morallen snorts into his klah mug, shaking his head. "When you're talking like /that/, yeah." he agrees. "Honestly, lighten up. Predetermined or not, we're never going to know what the future holds for us, we can't change the past, so therefore, just enjoy the present and do the best you can in it." he counsels, before snorting a laugh. "Gah, Faranth, listen to me... I'm sounding like Wyn."

"Predetermined, hah. I always think it's me in control of my own destiny," Kiriya says. "You choose your relationships. Maybe it's not perfect. Maybe it is. Whichever way, it's experience." She glances at Alain, quirking an eyebrow. "Don't feel too bad about it- there are probably many who would love to have such a relationship with a handsome fellow such as yourself," she suggests, sounding perfectly sane for once, trying to reassure Alain, tilting her head to get a good look at him.

Marchlind mutters under her breath

The idea of Morallen sounding like Wyn draws a hesitant grin to Alain's face, and he manages a second sip of the cooling klah. "I can think of worse people to sound like." he murmurs, then adds in a faux-cheerful tone, "Like me, for instance." That moment of false bounciness seems to have drained Alain of any semblance of exuberance, though, and he sinks back into a slouch, tracing one finger in circles around the lip of the mug. But he shakes his head to Kiriya, "You don't choose your relationships." and as for her comment about his being a 'handsome fellow' that earns a snort right out, and he actually turns to peer at the girl for a moment, "Kiriya--it's Kiriya, right? Do...heh...never mind. Relationships tend to get much more complicated than being good looking or not being good looking. Too bad we can't all just handfast herdbeasts...then all you'd have to do to keep them happy is feed them."

"Oh, I don't know," drawls Rallen to Alain, (Hey, that rhymes!) "/Wyn/ seems to see something to you, and she's got a good eye for people. So if she's got you listed as a friend of hers, you can't be /that/ bad." Another assault is made on the level of his rapidly-disappearing juice, before he chuckles. "Herdbeasts? Now, I might hope to be a bit deeper of a man then to just look for a pretty face, but even /I've/ got some standards of beauty, y'know?"

Marchlind taps her fingers on the table top, her head in her hand

Alain frowns, "No, you -don't- choose that, Kiriya. If that were true then I would -not- be as single as I am right now." he insists, rather vehement on this point and unaware of his fingers clenching so tightly around the mug in his hands that his knuckles have turned white. "It's not as simple as either of you make it sound." he mutters, and shakes his head a little. "Maybe that's just proof of Wyn's poor taste, Ral." he adds, setting his jaw and staring at the table top.

"Ever stop to think that maybe you're just overcomplicating things, Al?" inquires Rallen, tilting his head again before stretching his arms behind his head and then letting them fall casually back to his lap. "Thousands of people manage to find love, y'know. And most manage to hang onto it. And having met enough folks to know that most of 'em tend to be dumber than drunken herdbeasts, I can say that it probably doesn't take the brains of a surgeon to figure it out."

"Don't think too much on it, either. Give yourself some time to heal." Not surprising Kiriya's saying this. She's a healer, of course. "Most do. And some, while they don't hold on that long, manage to hold on for even a few months. I should know- I've been through at least two boyfriends already..." So she spills it. Oh well. Noting Marchlind's entrance, she gives a happy nod. "Hello..." Glance and look for a knot. "Welcome to Ista."

Marchlind chuckles slight and nods a greeting at Kiriya. "Thanks. Nice to meet you."

Alain snorts softly, "Too bad that's what I'm trying for occupationally." He very carefully sets the mug down and pushes his chair back from the table, taking a deep breath. "Nice thing about the dead: they don't encourage you to think about yourself." he murmurs, the quirk of one corner of his mouth meant to replicate a little grin--and failing miserably. "I should get some sleep--had a long night delivering twins with Master Maladi..." he trails off, shaking his head a little at Kiriya's words, "Well, I have a new record to offer to you, then...try two turns." He holds up two fingers, and shrugs lightly. "I'll see you both in classes." he offers, and turns to head out the doorl

Talyquin walks in from the great hall.

Ihrie walks, with a sense of passionate determination, in from the great hall.

Morallen shakes his head. "Yeah, but the dead aren't noted conversationalists, either." he notes with a wink. "Plus, if you find yourself flirting with one... I think you've got a serious problem." The smirk has returned, along with a casual wave. "Yeah, see you around, kid. And... tell Wyn 'hi' for me, next time she kidnaps you." Smirk. Oh, he knows.

"Bye," is all Kiriya says to see Alain out the 'Mug door, sighing a little bit at Alain's predicament. Glancing to Morallen, a bit of a smile graces her lips. "Nice wit you had there- for a moment, I thought it was going to work- but I hope he feels better, soon enough." Oy.

Alain walks through a door into the great hall.

Ihrie goes home.

Marchlind yawns, holding a hand over her mouth.

Morallen gives a little smirk. "Frankly, I think it would be some sort of cosmic justice if he and my kid sister were to fall for each other." he intones. "But he'll deal with it. Somehow. In any case, none of us are /supposed/ to be having relationships right now anyways, right?" A roguish little wink that makes one question his commitment to that statement just a tad.