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Harper's Tale 2 - Sunday, June 23, 2002, 12:48 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 is a blue firelizard.
You see Grey Leather Satchel, Old Marble Chess Set, Summer Sky Egg, Hearth, Curtains, Inner Weyr, and Chairs here.
Obvious exits:
Ledge

Vorkoroth> Sidramuntalath soars in for a landing.
Vorkoroth> Sii'kyn slides down the black hole -- that is, slithers down Sidramuntalath's neck to thud lightly on the ground.

Vorkoroth> Jittery, Ike throws a salute to Vor and strides to the inner weyr, muscles twitching sporastically.

Vorkoroth> Sii'kyn heads deeper into the Vor Imperium.
Sii'kyn strides purposely in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

Vorkoroth> Vorkoroth is /not/ a happy little spy today. The dark blue is curled up in the sunshine and sulking most pointedly. Stupid cat. Stupidstupidstupid cat.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath braids smoke into a long, five-strand plait, loops it into an infinity ring, and sends his new scout towards Vor. << You... do not look happy. >>

"Mrooooowr!" the sounds of a decidedly pissed-off feline echo against the stone of the weyr walls, accompanied by a soothing murmur of "Easy, kitty. There's a good girl. One more stitch, and you'll be right as rain." Hiss. The location of all this acrimony is the wine-crate coffee table, currently kitted out as an operating theatre as a most disreputable-looking ginger feline gets some stitches to a flank wound.

Sii'kyn strides in. His leathers, unusually subdued in color and tightness, are obviously his "working leathers"; old, worn, well-fitting, they're not as flashy as the main stuff he wears. "Good Faranth's tight golden heiny, Wyn, what the /shell/ are you doing to that cat?!"

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a disgusted mental raspberry of bubbled midnight. <<You... would not be happy either, if your rider suddenly became insane.>>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath loops the soft grey smoke-loop about the bubbled dark blue. << My rider is always insane, >> he patiently explains. << Why is yours suddenly trodding down the path of psychotic actions? >>

"Shh..." is Wyn's greeting, tying off her last 'x' with a neat flourish, and releasing the feline from the towl restraining it. A hiss and a swat, and she bolts over to take posession of one of the chairs, glowering at the humans. "Ah, there. Done." is Wyn's accomplished-sounding comment, before she begins to clean up her first aid kit, and put away her pots of redwort and numbweed. "Oh, hi, Ike. Have you met the new addition yet? Lis and I caught her in the catacombs, and she had a nasty wound I needed to look after..."

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he is still disgruntled, and snorts a puff of clear air at the smoke loops. <<She... has adopted a feline. Not even a proper feline, but a psychotic feline that has been biting and scratching at her. And she will not let me remove it.>> Squish. Heh... Ooops?

Sii'kyn stares at the feline for a long moment. "Wyn. That's.. uh..." Ram comments to him, something, and he levels a look to the bluerider. "You do realize your dragon does not approve of it?" Tactics. He doesn't want to have to even be around the little... feline. (Just because what Ram's relaying to him. Scary.)

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath ripples with warped silver and iron, rust and lava. << She.. is allowing a feline to bite and scratch her? And.. she is adopting this aforementioned evil creature? >> A shudder of blue runs through his aura -- yep, he's disgruntled when he's sending cool colors. << I feel your pain, man. >>

Wyn nods blithely, and steps over to scoop up and cuddle the feline, who reacts with a schizophrenic mix of purring, and chewing on Wyn's gloved hand. "Oh of course I do. But I don't approve of his targeting passerby with snowballs or spitballs when he's bored, so he can bloody well deal with this little thing. Isn't she cute?" And the scrawny ginger furball, with the matted long hair, disreputable ears, and a lump on it's head the size of an egg is offered towards her friend.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he's tone shifts to the resigned, staid and stodgy grey replacing the ripples of blue. <<She /says/ that the feline is simply... 'traumatized', and is 'acting out'. And that is will settle down later. She at least has the sense to wear gloves when handling it.>>

Sii'kyn stares. "Uh... cute doesn't begin to describe her," he graciously offers, before waving a hand. "I don't have my gauntlets with me, so I'll... refrain from holding her. Girl gets freaked if I come home smelling of predators." Ram doesn't bother Girl, so draconic scents don't bother the llama -- but felines? The llama would probably kill Ike. "You found her... where? And with whom?"

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath returns to comforting heat, shaking his mental head. << Yes.. I definately feel your pain. At least Kyn is only insane enough to pick a llama to be his pet. >> Atleast a llama isn't going to hurt anyone... << What do you think? A little hellion that's going to be the bane of your existence, or could it be that she's.. >> A lava-filled hesitation, << Actually right? >>

Death by llama... Well, it would be an interesting way to go, at least. "Why thank you, Ike. I do suppose I need to settle on a name for her, though." she ponders, letting the feline down to crouch on the rug and eye Sii'kyn's legs with threatening surmise, before returning to conversation. "Found her? Oh. Well, I'd heard her down in the catacombs for the last five days or so. Lost, or something similar. Seeing as how there is no fresh water down there, I realized I needed to rescue her, and Lis helped. Funny, she seemed so scared of the poor little thing, though..."

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a dark twirling of midnight black, carefully sheltered from his rider. <<Should the thing even approach being the bane of my existance... I'll just relocate it to another ledge while Wyn's sleeping.>> he decrees, before switching to a lighter tone, and brighter colours. <<Hum.. Well, you may be right. We'll see. For now, though, I'm afraid to go into my own weyr.>>

Sii'kyn eyes Wyn for a long moment. "You should name her... Jack." Sarcasm. Note the sarcasm. "Lis foun-sca-re-scared?" Twitch. If Ike had ears, they'd be flipping around in ultimate confusion. "Since when was Lis afraid of /anything/?!"

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath offers a supporting blood-red slap-on-the-back kind of deal. << You can move in with me. Or Zhesteth. I'm sure she'd like that... >> Snicker.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a dry shade of silver. <<I'm sure she would... I don't know if my eyes could stand her weyr though...>> He trails off as some ever-present corner of his senses chimes a faint alarm. <<Thread falls soon.>> he informs, levity replaced with a sudden primal alertness.

Wyn notes the sarcasm, but chooses to ignore it. She's in one of her more Brisk And Cheerful moods, it seems. "Jack. Jack Jack Jack... Ah. Excellent suggestion." she approves, crouching down to address the feline, who rolls on her back and looks suddenly innocuous and cute, before curling up to nap. "Jack, meet you uncle Sii'kyn." she pronounces. "There. And yes, I thought so too, but she actually was scared of this poor little thing..." She trails off at a message from Vorkoroth. "Thread?"

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Sidramuntalath gives a bobbed nod. << Yep. >> He knew, of course. << Well, my weyr's not that bad. It's all nice and black and tan, if you go for that. >> Shift. << Kyn, better get your tail out here, >> he mutters.

Sii'kyn blinks. "Uncle Sii--- nonononononononono/NO/, Wyn. Dearheart. I'm not going to play uncle to a feline." To a runner, yes. To a /cat/? No. "She's all yours. Little Jack." Cough. "Thread, yep. Shall we go get to the bowl?"

Wyn clucks her tongue playfully, even as she heeds her call to duty from Vorkoroth, and flits over to collect her flying gear and shrug it on. "Tsk... I doubt you'd be so reticent if I'd gotten a pet runnerbeast. But by all means, Wingmate. And..." Eyes unfocus again. "Vorkoroth says it's to be the Meadows, not the Bowl." she imparts, before waggling a finger and a "Behave." at the innocent looking feline and trotting for the ledge.

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