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Harper's Tale - Tuesday, August 13, 2002, 8:47 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-seven firelizards.
You see Anisha, Randell, and Bartender Lem here.
Obvious exits:
Dining Hall     Great Hall

Synte walks in from the great hall.

Liesana is seated at the bar, having been chivvied away from the cleanup efforts at Harper Hall by a cotillion of apprentices, gleefully determined to see that she follows Healer orders. The stitched-up forehead wound is plainly visible as the Harper Master almost falls asleep in her drink.

Synte hobbles in, assisted by a few stout lads. "Please. You might as well just let me sleep in here. Drag in a cot, will you, m'boys?" Oh, no. They deposit Synte right in the midst of the Harpers -- just to irk him, of course -- and stride off, laughing to themselves. "Great. Now. Uh. Why's Master Liesana falling asleep?" he demands to the nearest apprentice.

The Nearest Apprentice just gives a shrug, and waves a hand at the Master, who's still nodding off. Lem doesn't seem inclined to interfere. "Oh, she does this often enough," he apprises laconically. "Some crisis comes up, and she decides sleep is optional. Normally, we set the Healers on 'er, but this time she got cracked on the head by a rock as well, so's we didn't even have to do that. Healers got 'er themselves." A sleepy intake of breath from the young master, who grumbles something unintelligible, before lifting her head, taking a slug of whatever booze she's got in her mug, and muttering suggestively (In the non-dirty sense!) to the informative apprentice "Don't you have an Archive to be organizing..."

Synte observes Liesana. "You know, Liesana, you should try this one thing that I've discovered," he states laconically -- but loudly -- to the Master. "It's very, very good."

"Noooo...?" replies apprentice to master. "You do now. Go." replies master to apprentice. Apprentice flees, and Liesana turns to regard Synte with a fishy look. "What is it, Synte? Infusion of wormwood and aconite with a little agenothree chaser?"

Synte shakes his head, and folds his arms, giving her a Look. "It's mythical, almost, to some people. It's called.." He pauses for emphasis. "Sleep." A triumphant look appears in mismatched gaze. "Very, very good. Just learned of it this sevenday-end."

Liesana offers Synte a Look in return, before quipping that "Oh, I've heard of it. But it's highly overrated, I assure you. I can sleep when I'm dead." More of her drink disappears, before she quirks an eyebrow at the 'hand. "So, how's the ankle? And you'll no doubt be pleased to know that several of we parasitic Harpers were injured in this incident." Interesting mixture of prickly and cordial is a wary, sleep-deprived Liesana.

Synte gives a snort. "Highly overrated? No. It's actually very... very..." He pauses, trying to pinpoint it exactly. "Very nice," is settled on, for lack of a better adverb. "You'll be dead quick if you don't sleep," is predicted, before the 'hand shakes his head. "My ankle is broken," he primly states. "Parasitic Harpers were injured? Very good. At least natural disasters aren't biased for or against any one people." Lips thin into a straight, hard line, as he stares at the woman.

"You got something to say, Stablehand, just come out and say it," comments Liesana in a low, even tone, ignoring the mild jest in favour of attacking any problems head-on. "I'm too tired to play the diplomatic game." More of her drink disappears.

Renrow skitters, with a mischevious smirk, in from the great hall.

There's some mild drama going on in the Mug this evening: Walking Wounded Liesana and Synte are at the bar. Liesana's tired and non-diplomatic, and Synte doesn't seem to have too high an opinion of Harpers at the moment.

Synte folds muscular arms over his chest. "Oh, Master," he sarcastically states, "I've nothin' to say to you." He gives a disgruntled mutter about something or another, however, as he waves down Lem. "Give me some of the hard stuff. Yeah, some of the hard stuff that Jaryn keeps in that brown jug. The hard--thank you, Lem." A mutter, when the barkeep returns with the jug. He pours himself a shotglass, and swigs it down.

A figure that's tightly wrapped in his dark - now a gray, mixed and smeared with dust, dirt, and soot - shuffles in, stooped over a small amount and with his head down. Feet take him directly towards the bar, whereupon he sits, silently, on one of the stools, until the bartender actually turns to him. Renrow's voice is low, almost not even there, and the bartender tips his head, then begins laughing lightly as another person present requests the same thing! At this, Renrow slightly turns his head, only his left eye and tufts of hair becoming visible, but then, returns his attention to the top of the bar again, leaving Lem to return with the jug, pour a few shots for Renrow, then move towards the other table where Synte had called him from.

"Then kindly quit looking like you'd prefer to see me mounted on a spit and slow-roasted, Stablehand. It's making the back of my neck decidedly twitchy," replies Liesana, still in that dead-level tone. "You've got a problem with my Craft, then speak it out loud and to my face. Ista doesn't need any poisonous rumours floating around, you ken?" The arrival of the cloaked figure is noted, but Liesana somehow doesn't connect it with one of her best friends.

Synte rolls his mismatched gaze at Liesana. "You read too much into me, Harper," he half-snaps. "Honestly." He mutters here or there, before shaking his head once more. "There's enough poisonous rumors floating around about your craft -- I don't need to contribute to the count."

Diarmund strides inaudibly in from the great hall.

"Even paranoids have enemies," comments Liesana dryly. "But I do agree you wouldn't attempt physical violence at least. However, I might note that your behavior a few days ago started a good chunk of the rumours flying, thank you kindly. You could also be of some use stopping them, if you cared to help out your Hold." her tone, well seasoned with sarcasm, leaves the impression that she rather doubts the last, the Harper's nerves stretched thin enough as it is, and a bit of her Keroonian upbringing starting to peek through and add a flash to her eyes. A flash that crumples immediately to a pale concern as she finally recognizes "Renrow... Skies, my friend, are you all right?" Obviously not, but the question 'What's wrong?' has a too obvious answer.

Synte opens his mouth to snap out a reply to Liesana, before she moves onto a different topic and a different person -- he can't move, thanks to his leg, or he would have been moving, so instead, he sits there, gradually filling up on the moonshine. Hard stuff, indeed.

Brushing droplets of water from shoulders and hair, Diarmund strides into the tavern with unnecessary haste as ominous clouds turn to a somber drizzle. Finding a seat at the bar and taking a seat, the young man orders a mug of ale quietly, nodding unobtrusively to Liesana.

As Liesana's words finally sink into Renrow's conciousness, his stone-set expression softens, and he seems to come back to the world around him from the dark cavern his mind appeared to be lost in. His eyes flicker away from her's - another thing that Liesana has probably never seen, not even when he's in deep trouble from a higher-rank, or caught in a lie of some sort - and down to the bar in front of him, and his two remaining shot glasses. His voice comes out with a sound comparable to someone shuffling their feet over a rocky, loose-dirt road, and barely audible at that, "Me? ...that doesn't even matter anymore. Me? -Oh, if only..." He mutters the last part, attention firmly focused on the shot glass he's spinning in his hand now, soon to be tipped back quickly.

Synte quietly drinks away, attempting to be oblivious of the Renrow/Liesana drama. Drowning his sorrows: indeed, he is, drowning them in his bottomless glass of strong liquor.

This is probably just as well, because what's left of Liesana's ability to focus is now settled on Renrow and Renrow alone, although Diarmund is given a distracted wave. She moves a hand to rest lightly on top of the other Harpers', turning her face, stitches and all, to stare at him imploringly. "Renrow, my friend," she says, quiet but gently pointed. "It matters to me. You need to talk, or go mad." And has Liesana talked with anyone about her own troubles yet? No. But that doesn't matter!!

Synte has disconnected.

The sound that is next emitted from Renrow may not even brush the surface of some stranger's skin, but to an observant close friend, it might either make the hairs on the back of their necks stand, a lump swell up in their throat, or even send a chill down their spine. It is one that's also barely ever been heard from Renrow, a lad who's always been loved for his completely unshakeable hyperhappiness, possessed a giddiness that could even bring sour, crotchety old Masters to gales of unstoppable laughter. The completely cold, lifeless, hollow laugh that somehow echoes up from inside Renrow, perhaps adds a chill to his words that follow, "Ah'm afraid I already have..." And apparently, he's not talking about the first option Liesana gave him. His lips twitch for a moment before he quickly takes another drink, squeezing his eyes shut and lowering his face to his free hand afterwards.

"Don't say that." replies Liesana quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, as she's not without her own experiences on the subject. She moves to cover Renrow's glass with her hand, eyes steady, but with a black light of worry behind them. "I won't let you. You can't take the easy way like that, Ren, you just can't. Do you want to know why?" she asks, dropping her tone to something audible only between them. "Because the knowledge that you, Kryz, and Dashvard and about 3 others are all right is the only thing keeping me from breaking down right now. I need you Ren, will you fail me?"

Diarmund goes home.

Renrow's hand is visibly shaking, his eyes remaining closed. "That knowledge...that..." His words catch in his throat, causing him to swallow once before slowly opening his eyes and turning his face towards Liesana, barely even whispering the words that follow, "that's something...that I'd love to have..." His eyes are tear-brimmed, and he quickly takes the last shot, pushing himself up and away rapidly from the bar - although, his footfalls slow for a breath, and he glances back over his shoulder towards Liesana. In as much of a hurry as he seems to be to get out of the crowded tavern, that glance, with that pleading expression visibly apparent in his eyes, should be enough to draw his friend after him as he rushes off out of the doors.

**TRAVEL SPAM**

Gardens Entrance
Pristinely kept, lush, green grass covers the entire area, providing a comfortable seat in any location. A red cobblestone walk crosses to the four cardinal directions, centered at and encircling a large 'fountain'. A preview of what the rest of the garden offers, small flowerbeds fill with blooms of every color, one containing small ornamental fruit trees. A small statuary lines the fences, the 'statues' those of a few of the more famous recent Pernese figures. Delicate scents waft through the entire area, their various sources, heather, honeysuckle, azalea, and even a few white roses. Two wrought iron benches flank the path on each branch, leading to a total of eight.
The smell of freshly cropped grass permeates the air.
It is a winter sunset. Night sets early on this stormy day - black clouds cover the sky, turning day to night. Lightning cracks across the sky, and a fierce wind blows, strong enough to knock a person over.
Gliding around is a bronze firelizard.
Renrow is here.
Obvious exits:
Gather Meadow     Flower Gardens

"Renrow," calls Liesana over the noise of the storm, having barely had time to beg, borrow or steal a cloak before tearing after her friend. "We'll catch our deaths out in this weather. At least let us go to the gazebo, and we'll talk, OK?" The master catches up to the senior journeyman, and attaches herself to his arm.

Renrow's mixture of running/jogging/stumbling comes to a halt finally as he rounds a fence, dropping to his knees, the harsh weather tearing at his cloak as he does and whipping the hood off long ago on his bolt. He's doubled over, his hands over his face, when Liesana's hand is felt on his arm...his eyes lift to her's, squinting from the winds but the tears still clearly evident within. He lowers his head, standing with a struggle but fairly briskly jogging with Liesana towards the Gazebo.

You go to the Flower Gardens.
You go to the Gazebo.

Gazebo
Closed on three of six sides by delicate, whitewashed laticework, the quaint little gazebo is covered by tiny flowering vines. Small blooms are abundant on the vines, adding a subtle scent to the air. The three open sides open to the southwest, turned to view the beach and pefectly placed to offer a view of the beautiful Istan sunset as well as a good view of the evening stars. To aid in watching, a swing hangs from the center of the gazebo, just big enough for two to enjoy a romantic moment.
It is a winter sunset. Night sets early on this stormy day - black clouds cover the sky, turning day to night. Lightning cracks across the sky, and a fierce wind blows, strong enough to knock a person over.
On the perch are two firelizards.
You see a swing and hydroponics table here.
You notice Taylias asleep here.
Obvious exits:
Out
Renrow skitters, with a mischevious smirk, in from the Flower Gardens.

Liesana settles herself in the swing, setting it to rocking gently while she motions for Renrow to join her. "It's still open air... but at least it's dry. Ren, come here, please." Her arms are held open to offer a comforting hug. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Anything? It hurts my heart to see you like this, truly..." Liesana hasn't much more of herself to give, but she can't just stand by and leave a friend.

Renrow sniffs as he enters, wiping his eyes with his forearm as he does. Although it does nothing to diminish the haggardness of the young man, who looks like he's seen, heard, and suffered through, far more than any man should ever have to. He nods slowly, dropping to the swing and curling his arms around his legs, which are pulled up, as he again unconsciously coils up into the fetal position, chin between his knees. "They're-..." He begins quietly, then heaves a stuttering breath, "Ah...I went to Fort after the Impact...no...I went t'see my mum and da, first...which...led me to Fort." He finishes with a painful wince and sniff again, as it seems like his parents, which had lived in a small hold between Ruatha and Fort Hold, were called to Fort for some reason.

"Oh, Ren... oh, poor, poor Ren," murmurs Liesana, wrapping her friend in a tight, protective embrace, like an elder sister trying to comfort a terrified child. "Oh, that's hard, and I know exactly how you feel... Parents are supposed to be invincible. It's not right. Oh, Ren, I'm so sorry. Shhh... shhh, now, let it out." she continues to murmur, rocking slightly as she just holds the younger Harper.

Beginning again, the shaken Harper Senior Journeyman gratefully leans against Liesana, although seems to be somewhere else completely, legs still hugged to his chest, "They...A-Ah get there, and they're gone...no word, no sign of them...after hunting...amongst the d-...damages, and destruction in Ruatha, I discover they went to...to FORT. To help...with the runnerbeasts..." He squeezes his eyes again, and takes another couple of rapid breaths before calming, "Ah...Ah've been there since...And still...-Still No Word-!" Leaning against Liesana, his tremors can easily be felt as his shaking begins, speaking rapidly "Th-that's the worst, not knowing, NOT Knowing! B-but that, that, that's not the worst. The worst is th-..." A sniff, and another attempt to say it is cut off by a whimper, before he buries his face in Liesana's arm, his arms winding around his close friend and squeezing as he cries out her name, "Laaaaureeeeen! I, I don't KNOW, I don't know where she is, HOW she is!! She...she was visiting her parents again, t-to be sure they'd be safe! B-but that was...that was before...that was when t'was just the Fire Star...just one." The final two words being whispered out.

"Shhh, shhh now, it'll be all right, Ren, it'll be All Right!" soothes Liesana, on hand moving to stroke gently at his back as she continues to hug him. "Yes, the Fort area was hit by the fireball, but it hit the mountains, not the Hold. And you know yourself how easily people can move through disaster areas, shh, Ren, you must keep hope, keep the faith." she entreats, trying to get him to meet her eyes. "Yes, you should be worried, Yes this is a terrible thing, but you must keep hope. You mustn't despair."

Renrow nods and sniffs, squeezing again with his arms before his head turns, his left cheek against the front of Liesana's right shoulder now, his breath being shakily trained down to a normal pace again. Once his breathing has returned to, well, fairly normal, he nods again, "Aye, Ah've got to. That's...all that I can do, I now know. N-...no word, no word though..." Another stuttering inhale of breath, which is released in a steady sigh, calming himself again, "-which is better, than hearing something I'm...afraid of." Still unable to bring himself completely back right now, but on the road to progress with Liesana's current help, his feet slowly slide off of the edge of the swing, then rest on the ground, but his embrace with Liesana remains stead-fast.

There is a flash of lightning, and thunder rumbles loudly nearby.

Another thundering *BOOOM* is heard as lightning rakes the island. A storm is near.

Liesana's hug doesn't slacken, even as Renrow calms a little. Liesana, you see, rather needs a hug just as much, although her own breakdown is yet to come. "Precisely. No news is good news, right? In a situation like this, the longer it takes to find them, the likelier they are to be alive, because teams must needs clear the rubble quickly. And LL will be fine. Because she knows that if she left you like this, my friend, I'd have to hunt her down and kill her myself." A weak, dark, attempt at humour. "Oh... oh, my friend," she murmurs. "None of us deserves this to happen."

Cold rain starts to fall, sheeting down in a torrent. The wind is fierce, driving the rain even harder. Lightning shocks the night into brightness, followed by ear-pounding peals of thunder.

Renrow nods and sniffles again, "Aye...aye, Faranth, if anyone comes close t'knowing as well as I do just how determined and hard that woman is, how much she can take, it'd be you, Lies." He hugs tightly again, another heavy breath, and he lifts his head, even though he resettles it atop Liesana's shoulder for the moment. Perhaps the first positive comment that's been heard for a while, Renrow's gentle words float out, "I love the rain. Always have, always will - storms, actually. I love storms...Thunder, the lighting. By far, the best of all - the smell." And a deep breath is taken, softening his features a bit more. A few breaths, and Renrow lifts his head, his eyes on Liesana for a few moments before he kisses her cheek - more than just a friendly peck, but, mostly done in show of his gratitude, "Thank you, Liesana..." he gazes around pointedly, motioning with a very slight tip of his head, "Right now, today...it's brigher than any day this whole sevenday has been. Because of you, Lies." She's managed to take him out of the state of shock he was, and had been in for quite some time, something even the mind-healers couldn't do. She'd also talked him out of a great multitude of crazy ideas that'd been floating around his head.

"That's why I'm a friend to the pair of you, Ren dear," replies Liesana, the hand rubbing Renrow's back lifting to hug his head to her shoulder gently. "We're akin to each other, the lot of us. Tough stock. We can deal and keep on dealing, so long as we need to." she murmurs, blinking a little at the kiss on the cheek, but then just going back to hugging. "Ren, it's no problem to me... I like to help those I care about. And if I help you stay hopeful, I help myself as well." Now, she begins to shiver a little, thin summer cloak and thin frame doing little to shield her from the storm winds.

As Renrow's shaking has now come to an actual halt, he can tell that it's her (after a moment of thought) that's shaking now. He turns his head towards the storm, the wind blowing roughly against them as his gaze sweeps over the horizon, punctuated by flashes of light. "Okay, my friend." His words reach down to Liesana as he catches the edge of his cloak and pulls it around Liesana's left side, tucking her in to it as his left arm is curled around her waist, right hand holding on to the cloak, big enough to offer cover for the both of them. "Now..." He sighs out, helping Liesana stand as he does, "what's the quickest way out of this storm. Or no...to cover, aye. Because...I like this storm." His gaze drifts out to the lighting and rain, "a lot...it...I don't know." He mutters the last three words, avoiding something perhaps, but his eyes swing back to his friend, eyebrows drawing rapidly together as he notices (being now fully conscious of his surroundings - even slightly conscious is better than how he was, being completely in a hazy dream/nightmare-state), "Your forehead?" He asks in a concerned tone, "Aw, what happened there?"

A hard rain falls, sheeting down in a torrent. It's a cold rain, too, and the strong wind blowing makes it seem colder.

Liesana offers a smile through teeth that are starting to chatter with chill as she's tucked in underneath the second cloak. One hand reaches up to swirl her own a little more tightly about her as she quips "Always a gentleman, Ren," with another smile, before shrugging shakily. "Oh... b-b-b-bit of the b-balcony d-decided to attttttack me." she kids. "I g-g-got ffffour sttttitches, and D-d-danna says a c-concussion. Need... to get inside."

Renrow nods rapidly, his right hand moving up and down Liesana's arm in an almost unconscious way, attempting to keep her as warm as he can. "Ooh Faranth, I'm sorry I...that Ah snapped back there...but, thank you, for coming, Liesana...You...heh...-I've-, no idea what I Would have done." Possibly unintentionally so, but probably not, the word 'would' just seems to hang in the air, making it that much more chilling and apparent that it was would, rather than could, or might. Renrow turns, keeping Liesana beside him, and takes off after a motion with his head, however always being sure to run right next to Liesana and at her pace. "Insiiide!"