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Harper's Tale 2 - Tuesday, June 04, 2002, 10:58 PM

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Vorkoroth> Larnat steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Vorkoroth> Larnat walks in, peering about the bowl, journal stuffed in one hand as she saunters out into the center, coming over to Vorkoroth and, while raising a hand to shield her eyes, looking up at the blue. "Mind taking me up to Wyn's weyr?" is asked of Vorkoroth. "I want to talke to her," she admits with a light shrug.

Vorkoroth> Vorkoroth is rumbling to himself as he whuffles at interesting piles of snow here and there. Whuff. Snort. Amusing stuff, snow piles. Most intriguing. But more intriguing still is Larnat. A large blue head looms downwards to snuffle inquiringly, before he purrs a baritone affirmative. A visitor for his Wyn? Hah! His plans to get her a social life are suceeding. He knew they would of course.

Vorkoroth> With the courtly offer of a foreleg, Larnat alights upon Vorkoroth's neck. Good to go.

Vorkoroth> You take off.

Vorkoroth> You soar in for a landing on Vorkoroth's ledge.

Vorkoroth> Slithering down the straps-ladder, Larnat slides from Vorkoroth's neck and gently touches earth.

Vorkoroth> Larnat heads deeper into the Vor Imperium.

Larnat saunters in in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

Larnat slides off Vorkoroth's neck, waving a 'thank you' and general good-bye to the blue, slipping into the inner weyr, before noting Wyn and raising a hand in greeting. "Lo, Wyn. Mind if I...er...talk to you?" the bakerlet asks, a bit of red tinging her cheeks. Urh. Subject matter is embarassing.

Wyn is currently arranging some newly-completed scatter pillows around the hearth area, deft hands placing them and then shifting them, accompanied by the odd quiet murmur of "Hmm... not there. Doesn't balance with the chair... Oh!" Apparently Vorkoroth still needs to master the art of announcing visitors. "Larnat, certainly. By all means, come in and take a chair. Welcome." Somewhat distracted, but determined to play a proper host, she waves Larnat towards one of the black-lacquered quartet of wooden chairs in front of the fire.

Larnat takes a seat as Wyn has directed, clutching her satchel a tad tightly, and releasing Isabo to meander around the room at her will, before the girl looks up and brushes a couple of locks out of her face. "Er. Could I maybe have a cup of klah first? This is going to come out...rather difficult to say." Note: she does not ask for wine. Eheh. Denocte's eyes peer out from behind a cloud of hair as he surveys. Oh, a Wyn.

"How about some herb tea," suggests Wyn instead, busying herself with setting a kettle to boil regardless. "I assure you that I won't feed you anything medicinal, but I have a good chamomile blend that was given to me... Very soothing." she assures, before taking a seat herself, and idly stroking her green firelizard. She lets silence hang a moment, before offering a simple "Whatever you have to say, I'm listening, and I'll try my best to understand, or at least see things."

Larnat is blushing profusely by this point. It's a little difficult to say it straight on this one. "Tea would be nice. I was in the living caverns. When Kariel came by." The introduction to the episode in her life known as: plot twist to the already confusing plot of Fyria and her lovers, or some such thing. And a hand goes up to scritch Denocte. For support.

Wyn nods, and fills a small infuser with crushed leaves from a little wooden box, setting it and a teapot aside until the water boils. "Mmhmm?" she nods, lacing her hands and resting them on a crossed knee. "And then what happened...? Take it slowly, one step at a time, and don't worry if it takes a while to find the correct words."

Larnat mmphs at this point, blushing a bit. Her come her most likely less-than-judicious actions, all laid out for Wyn to see and give her mindhealer help on. "And. He mentioned that the High Reaches staff was looser about some things than others...and he mentioned wine in there. So I opened a skin and...got a bit drunk. When Kariel invited me to come back to his quarters and look at his brandy collection." Err. Blush stronger still as the bakerlet's rubbing her hands together quite hard. "And. We ended up sleeping together." Let Wyn reflect on that for a moment before she continues, no?

Wyn's eyes suddenly shift to an alarmingly cold shade of grey as Larnat spills the last bit of her tale. Fortunately for the bakerlet, however, her ire is directed elsewhere. Like a certain Weyrhealer who is going to be getting a visit from Wyn soon. And so, by the time her gaze returns to the young teen, it's once again kind. "Mmm." is her comment, a neutral one. "And... how do you feel about that?"

Larnat apparently misses the bit of anger in Wyn's eyes, but manages to stutter on. "Oh, I didn't mind. In fact, it was rather...wonderful." Apparently Kariel's quite talented? Must be the reason Fyria likes him. Heh. "But...it's just...I don't want to hurt Fyria. Kare said that they were on hiatus or something, but..." she trails off, giving a confused shrug. "I'm fairly sure that I don't prefer Kariel for anything more than physical companionship, though," she notes.

"Larnat," objects Wyn quietly, the brief flash of ice in her gaze now internalized. "You're 15, just barely into your legal majority. Kariel is 24. I don't care if he's... talented... he shouldn't have done that, on several fronts. You're not at fault, and I think anyone can see that." She stands abruptly to rescue the boiling kettle, pouring the contents into her teapot and starting it steeping before taking a seat again, her anger still present, but oh-so-carefully hidden until a proper time comes to reveal it. "So... would you like to talk about anything? What do you plan to do now?"

Larnat looks thoroughly embarassed. "I was...a bit drunk, like I said," she notes with another blush. "But. Err...I don't know. I feel I should tell Fyria but I really don't want her horribly angry at me," Lar murmurs in a much-diminished tone. Squeak. Odd for her to be submissive. But she did a rather bad thing, and supposes she should deal with it. "I really don't know. That's why I came to you."

Wyn, satisfied that the tea has finished steeping, pours it into a pair of laquer mugs, black like the wooden furniture. Can one sense a theme here? After appropriate sweetener has been added, she hands one to the teen, before taking her own seat again, and taking a measured sip, thinking. At last she offers "If you feel that you need to come clean... then of course you must do what your conscience tells you. But really, Kariel was using you. Tell Fyria that you slept with him, and you'd likely be doing exactly what he wants you to do. He's out for revenge against her, on some mental plane, and that seems to be leading him to some sharding stupid actions." The calm facade slips just a tad at the end, permitting a glimpse of a frozen storm underneath, quickly shrouded again. "To tell her, or not to tell her, is a matter that you'll have to work out for yourself. Honesty is always the best policy, but be sure you think it through beforehand, or it can also be a very painful policy." A hesitant pause. "If you'd like... I could tell her myself."

Larnat wishes that she could just ask Wyn to tell Fyria. But no, that's the easy way out, and essentially not the right thing to do. "Uh. No. I should tell Fyria myself, if I'm going to tell her. Anything else would be...taking the easy way out." Squirm. And Larnat takes the cup from Wyn, taking a grateful sip, before settling the mug down on the table to rub a bit of oil into Klah's hide, before resuming drinking the tea. Apparently Larnat has a fetish for self-punishment, if she wants to tell Fyria herself.

Wyn nods slightly, and applies herself to her own mug again, the sips permitting her time to think. "In that case," she hazards at last "My advice would be to think carefully on what you feel, and what you want to say. And that when you do tell her, you tell her privately, and while you're completely sober. And... if she does become upset with you, bear in mind that it's not really you that she's upset with at all." A pause, and another sip.

Larnat nods, but shudders at the part about 'sober'. "Believe me, Wyn. I intend to never drink again," she notes. The only time she can envision drinking from this point onward would be if she somehow Impressed a dragon and ended up in a flight. Maybe then. But that's the only instance she can see it happening again. "I'll keep that in mind when I tell her..." she adds, and another sip of the tea is taken.

Wyn offers a slight smile. "There's nothing wrong with moderation, Larnat," she offers. "I enjoy a glass myself, now and again. But... sobriety is to be cherished. If you'd been sober, Kariel likely would have gotten about as far as N'sync." Standing to go and put the teapot in the rack of dishes to be washed, she reaches to offer a little squeeze to Larnat's shoulder. "You, at least, will be all right," she assures.

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.

Sii'kyn knocks at the door from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

Vorkoroth> Sii'kyn knocks at the door leading to The Vor Imperium and announces himself.

You invite Sii'kyn to enter.

Vorkoroth> Sii'kyn heads deeper into the Vor Imperium.

Sii'kyn strides purposely in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

Larnat hehs. And realizes that Wyn-unofficial-sister's probably right on that account, and Larnat starts a bit as Sii'kyn enters, but lifts a hand. "Hey there, Sii'kyn," she says with a nod of greeting. "Thanks Wyn, she murmurs quietly, for their ears only, before turning to take another sip of the tea and give Lisp a quick scratch, too. He's feeling itchy, or so she's guess, though he just had an oiling.

Sii'kyn whistles a jaunty little tune. Wow. Sure is a mood-swinger, ain't he? He swings a couple of skins of some liquor off his shoulder, eyes tracing a path on the floor. Then, he freezes, glances up, and stares. Cue the caught in the headlights look. "Am I interrupting something?" the brownling inquires, already backing up a step. Looks like a Girl Thing goin' on.

"You are most decidedly welcome, Nat," replies Wyn, also sotto voce, eyes glinting the stormy grey again as soon as she turns away to return to her seat. "Ah, Sii'kyn, do come in," she beckons, although the greeting is distinctly lacking in the Jolly Hostess tone she's been trying to approximate as of late. "I'll get Vorkoroth to give you a lift back down to the bowl, once you've had your tea, yes? I'll... be down myself... later." Possibly with a scalpel and interesting plans for it's use. But for now, mustn't let Larnat, the honourary little sister, know what's lurking behind that grey gaze. Ike, on the other hand, might get to see some interesting things.

Larnat inclines her head at Wyn in a gesture of thanks before turning to her cup of tea with a wistful look. "Mind if I finish my tea?" And then turns to Sii'kyn. "Not exactly," she murmurs with a slow nod, completely innocent of said scalpel and its probable usage. Sii'kyn will most likely get to see plenty. Larnat herself has no plans except to finish her tea, and turn in for a long, long night...that is, if she can't find Fyria. Best to get the whole thing over with and then sleep. Everything seems brighter in the morning, correct?

See? See? Ahem. He'll probably be in the major plotting and executing section of anything that can use a scalpel. Or a dagger. Mmm, daggers... Um. Yeah. "Hi." Sii'kyn seats himself on the pillows, and gives Larnat and Wyn both a critical once-over. Blink. "Yeah, or Ram can give you a lift, if you like power over speed." He winks Wyn-wards, noting the absense of his close friend's typical Jolly Hostess-ness.

"Bah, Vor could outmaneuver Ram in Fall any day of the seven," is Wyn's automatic reply. Like an X-Wing up against a B-Wing Ahem. A reply automatic enough that it doesn't really require much mirroring of actual emotion to deliver. "Tea, Ike?" she queries blandly, before nodding to Larnat. A casual viewer would see simply an affirmative given regarding the teen finishing her drink. Larnat might choose to read reassurance into the movement, and would be absolutely right.

Larnat chooses to read reassurance into it and sips her tea gratefully. Slower than one might expect tea to be consumed. Because, well, Larnat wants to delay talking to Fyria. She decided to do what's right, true, but it's dang hard to get around to doing it. Mmm. "Hi indeed," Larnat merely comments with a smirk.

"Please. Those big wings are useful for precision, y'know.." Plus, Ram can out-endurance Vor any day of any turn. Ahem. But. "I don't do tea," he mildly responds, popping the cork on his skin. "I've got a good Fortian blend," he tempts. "You want a sip, fellow 'Stromer?" One eyebrow arches. Wyn's very.. uh.. bland. Especially bland. Which is slightly freaky.

Wyn just lets Larnat sit and keep her thoughts to herself, although the ex-Mindhealer maintains a careful posture of 'I'm here and I'm listening' even if she remains freakishly bland. Bland, as Ike probably ought to know by now, is Wyn's favourite method of control. "Not at this point in time, thank you," she turns down the offer gently. "I... require my mind to be unmuddled now." Let's see... now the circulatory diagrams of the groin had arteries there... and there...

Fortian klah? Not wine, correct? If it was wine, Larnat should be halfway out the door and far away from it, having recently had a few bad experiences with the stuff. "Wine? Please, no," she says quickly, with a vehement shake of her head. "You shouldn't drink wine," she murmurs to herself. Apparently Larnat is practicing Jedi mind tactics on Sii'kyn. Hmm. Is the Force with her?

Even if the Force was with Larny, it would take more than Exar Kun to impose his will on the willful brownling. "Some people say you shouldn't drink klah," Ike sweetly replies to Larnat. "I don't believe either." Swig. Wyn's eyed, but he keeps his IIT - Imperial Interrogation Tactics - from showing until the little'r one's finished with her tea.

Wyn imparts her little bit of Jedi wisdom to the debate with the bland and somewhat absent comment of "In everything, there should be balance and order," Which really could mean many things, but seems currently being applied to matters of klah and wine. "Although Larnat is having some of my herb tea. Chamomile blend. Soothing." An effect it apparently failed to have on Wyn, the other partaker of it.

The tea is apparently having a calming affect on Larnat, for she settles back in the chair to sigh softly and tsk. "Klah has no alcohol." Turning to hear Wyn, she pauses, oddly contemplative for a moment. "I just don't want to taste any." For fear that she won't be able to help herself and start drinking some more. Which has never brought one to good results. "Quite soothing."

Sii'kyn raises the other eyebrow at Wyn, and then they both lower at the word 'soothing'. "Uh..huh," the muscular young man says, skeptisism showing clear in deep voice. "Klah doesn't have alcohol, but it has stimulants in it, which can be exceedingly harmful to one if it's a sleep deterrant," is said as an aside to Larnat. (Yep. He must be scampering off to some foreign hold and taking lessons from a Healer.) "Soothing." He stifles a snort. "M..hmm."

Wyn rolls a shoulder, and nurses her own teacup, tension evident in slim shoulders, should one look long enough. Perhaps in order to dissuade that possibility, the petite bluerider stands, and begins to fuss over the arrangement of scrolls on the mantle above the hearth. "I'm no herbalist, but it tastes well enough, and was a gift from a Herbalist, so they ought to know what they're nattering on. Is it soothing, Larnat?" She's spotted the raising eyebrows, but shan't be letting herself drop her iron control until it's safe to do so. And we all know about Wyn and her insistance on goals and keeping them.

Larnat cocks an eyebrow. "Well. I've never heard that," she notes. Or maybe has chosent to remain pointedly ignorant on the subject that rules out another type of beverage from her repetoire, but gives a nonchalant shrug. "Soothing indeed," she murmurs with a smirk. "Quite soothing," she reiterates with a slow nod, and the girl chooses to remain ignorant on Wyn's other intentions as well, or perhaps she just doesn't notice them at this point, with the day she's had.

Sii'kyn patiently waits it out, sipping at his wineskin. He watches both of them with half-lidded eyes, before shaking his head. "Well, Wyn, you look.. tense," he remarks. "And here I thought you were the one who said that venting was only something that sane people did?" Ahh, just a tad bit of childish payback. Yep. Or maybe he's just getting impatient with patience.

Wyn at last manages to un-bland enough to favour Sii'kyn with a grey-eyed glower. "I said it and I believe it." she says shortly. "But there's a time and a place to vent... and right now I have company." A significant nod of her head towards Larnat. Ike doesn't count as company, much like anyone else in Maelstrom Wing. Wingmates are more like family and friends rolled into one. Therefore, she can vent in front of Ike, but not in front of girls of 15 named Larnat.

Larnat misses the significant nod (most likely a good thing, as well) for she's currently deeply involved with scratching all the itches of the protesting brown dubbed Lisp at this point. Maybe she's trying to subconsciously avoid it all, but nods. "I should get going," she murmurs with a nod. "Kitchen chores and whatnot, I'm sure," she adds, already getting up from the chair and giving a good-bye wave to Ike, and a "Thank you," to Wyn.

Larnat releases Klah, who launches into the air.

Larnat heads out to Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

Sigh. "So I can vent in front of a room of riders - both of high standing, one which has physically smacked me before... but you can't vent in front of her." One hand gestures to Larnat. Then, Ike shrugs his shoulders. "Okay. I can wait to see why you're tense and who you're going to castrate." The words are only half-joking, but.. snicker. Poor Ike and his inopportune wordings. Ahem. "Good nigh--" Sigh. Then, silver eyes shift to lock against grey; he pointedly raises an eyebrow.

And with Larnat safely out of the room, Wyn simply seethes. The most disturbing thing about the transformation is how subtle it is. No glares, no muttered death threats, just a sudden sharp hardness to grey eyes, and an air and bearing like unto a thunderstorm ready to burst. Pay close enough attention, and one might just catch the faint smell of ozone surrounding her. "Kariel," she notes, sounding perfectly cool. "Is exactly who I'm planning to castrate. The sharding fool. He's worse than bloody sharding N'sync. He's a damned wherry-gnawed senior Weyrhealer by the first Egg, he's had ethics classes, and even if he were a drudge he'd still be doing wrong. Has the man no sense of decency?" She trails off into a string of colourful epithets describing the erstwhile weyrhealer's parentage, progeny, history, personal hygeine, and several other areas, a range of profanity all the more stunning for its ice calm delivery. She concludes with "He and I are going to talk."

And what could be even more startling is how Ike recieves the air of profanity and the transformation - which he, of course, notes. Not a twitch, not a flinch, not even when she starts getting colorful. No, what merely happens is silver eyes shift darker with concern, skin tightens around his eyes, and his jaw sets. "What did he do?" is finally, softly queried after the air's cleared out. "Do you want me to send Ram with you? He's already spoken with me about the proper manner of dissecting a human, and I'm sure that he'd love to test his theory." And that's not joking, either. Even more freakish. However, his gaze is still even, calm, and filled with concern, eyeing Wyn with a thoughtful hint. She's vented. Now it's time for the story aspect of the problem. Hopefully.

Wyn has taken to pacing slightly, the thunderhead aspect still far from disappated. An eating knife is picked up and tossed one or twice before being dropped. Because Wyn, you see, doesn't get physically violent when she's truly angry. No, her warfare is conducted on the mental plane. "Oh, nothing much," she intones, suddenly falsely light. "Nothing that any man who's discovered his weyrmate has been running around behind his back wouldn't be tempted to do. Kariel decided to indulge in a little sexual revenge." And then the hard light to her eyes returns full force. "But it's the who, Ike. And the how. He got Larnat drunk, took her back to his rooms, and slept with her. She's a child, barely a month into her majority, and he's a full sharding twenty-four turns. A virgin, for Faranth's sake. He used her, and for what purpose? And now she's going off to go and confess to Fyria, even after I told her it wasn't her fault. Oh, perhaps you'll see it differently, but he's a member of a Craft that posesses a strong code of ethics and decency. A code that I, even though no longer a part of them, strive to live by. And he just... throws it out the window? The man has... has... no honour."

Sii'kyn's head bows for a moment, and his hands, finding nothing to do, work at the knot at the bottom of his braid. Long hair is loosened, worked out, and fingers find their way through it with accuracy. Once Wyn stops speaking, Ike glances up. Hardly recognizeable, he looks more like some psychopathic murderer than a brownling of (fairly) good standing. "Let me get this straight," is said, and his typically rolled words are cut, clipped short. "He got her drunk. He took her back to her rooms. And he.." At this junction, Ike's face contorts for a moment before he cuts off emotion, "..took her virginity?" With one fluid motion, he rises to his feet. He's stunned - furious - and silent, for a long moment, as he truly paces. "No ethics. No honor. He has no right to live here," is panted after a moment. "That goes down as rape in my scroll," he finally states, before stopping to lean against a wall. "So," he says, voice quiet and having a sharp, steel edge to it; "..what shall we do about this little problem?"

Wyn is suddenly quite calm, settling in a chair and even picking up her tea. Wyn is ice, rather than fire, one might recall. Cold, calculating... She'd make an admirable Faleen in this mode. "I believe we shall... talk." she notes. "While my books read the same as yours on the matter, it was technically consensual, although clearly not while of sound mind. She's also a month past her majority, so technically, he breaks no laws there. A pity, since staking him out for Thread seems rather... satisfying. But... we shall talk. Well chosen words are deadlier than any slit of the throat. I may need help in, ah, persuading him to stay and listen, however..." And here a most unpleasant little smile is offered. Coupled with the black eye, it leaves her looking entirely disreputable. "It may chance that he might... resist." The next stage of her plan is invoked. "It is my... hope... that his conscience might well torture him more than we could ever do. But if he proves self-righteous, well, then, I do know several of the ranking Healers at the Istan Hall..."

Oh, yes. Wyn might be ice, but remember - Ike is pure fire, majority of the time, when he's not recovering from verbal attacks by eight-turn-old spoiled bratlets. "Technically consentual, yes. But, however, it's still unethical and immoral, not to mention grossly disturbing. If flightlust is involved, you can't really blame any parties, but in a situation like this..." Ike slides one leg up the wall, propping it up.. and gazes at his boot, before withdrawing something. A boot-knife. A sharpening stone is also snagged from the belt at his hip, and he sets to sharpening the already sharp piece of worked metal. "He won't resist," is rumbled out, a hint of low agression in his tone. "If he does..." His eyes flick upwards. "Well, let's just say the results won't be pleasant." Strokes stop, and he holds the dagger's edge up to the light. "Atleast, for him."

"Precisely," replies Wyn with a lupine smile appearing briefly on her features. "Even flightlust can be resisted, if one has the will for it. Drunkeness... is a poor excuse indeed. Particularly for a Healer, who is supposed to strive to remain in control of their mental state at all times. But... Unethical, immoral, and entirely without honour. If he simply wanted to sleep with someone, there are many available females about the weyr. However," and here she pauses, lifting a slim hand. "We must be careful not to cross the line between justice and revenge. It was revenge on Fyria that prompted him to begin upon his course, let us not continue the circle. He must be made aware of his... failings... but if punishment is to be dealt, it is not our place to deal it out, no matter how pleasant it might seem. Tea?"

Sii'kyn deliberates for a long moment. "Fyria will extract revenge, you do realise, most likely. So, perhaps we should just.. scare him into submission. Before Fyria can get to him." Scaring people into submission isn't one of Ike's great masteries, but he can do a fair enough job when he's livid. "He doesn't understand women," is said, thoughtfully. "No, no, I've got my skin." He shoves the sharp bootknife back into it's sheath, and leans to, snagging up the 'skin and taking a gulp, watching Wyn with a slight glimmer of deep-seated, very dark amusement... and something else. However, he shakes his head. "I regret that I cannot stay, however. Ram has deigned to tell me that it's time that I take my leave."

Wyn nods. "That, I realize most fully." she allows, sipping at her tea with a great deal of satisfaction about that phrase. "I'm not saying that Fyria's completely innocent, but she'll take care of him. And..." The feral smile again. "You yourself said that I'm frightening. Let me rally the plans and find out a good time to, ah, corner him, and we'll just go have a friendly little chat." She raises her teacup however, at the last comment. "Well, I certainly can't make Ram wait for you, and I suppose I've vented what I needed to..." She trails off to simply offer a small "Thank you,"

Sii'kyn gives an even nod. "That's what friends are for," is murmured, before he tacks of a brisk salute -- why, he doesn't know (after all, he was promoted five minutes before her, ;) -- and slides out to where Ram rather impatiently awaits.

Sii'kyn heads out to Vorkoroth's Staging Area.