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Harper's Tale - Wednesday, February 20, 2002,
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Healer Lounge
This is a very cozy room where Healers often spend their free time relaxing, talking, and participating in a little recreation. Dotted about the room are small tables and big comfy looking chairs that are great for sitting down and talking in. Also there are tables set up around the room with chairs set at them, to be used for studying, or any other activity that might need the support of a table.
In one wall is the doorway that leads into the Healer Great Hall, and the rest of the Hall. Other doorways are quietly recessed around the room, leading off to the various quarters of the Healers. One leads to the Apprentice Dorms, another to the hallway that houses the rooms of Journeymen and Masters, and a third that leads to the children's area.
You see Corwin, Joran, and Apprentice Dart Board here.
You notice Nerak, Kerali, Toniac, Psyra, and Magen asleep here.
Obvious exits:
Healer Great Hall Apprentice Dormitory Children's Area Journeymen and Masters Hall

Snow walks in from the Healer Great Hall.

Snow skitters around corners, weaving here and there, chittering happily. Hee hee. Just tripped someone. Who wouldn't be happy.

Miralwyn is settled on a couch, studying as usual, like the disgustingly Good Little Apprentice that she is. Or tries to be. Appears to be? The skittering noise draws attention, and upon spotting the ferret, she very carefully draws her legs up away from the floor, giving the beastie a distasteful look. Critters. Ugh.

Snow stands up on her hind legs and looks around curiously. Oooh... Person. Food. Person means food. Food means mischief. Mischief means fun! Fun! Fun! The little girl skitters quickly over to couch. Feed me! Feed me!

No. Person means Miralwyn. Miralwyn means a swift kick to any irritating pests. Miralwyn... simply eyes the ferret from over the edge of one scroll, finally flickering a hand at her, and intoning "Shoo!" before returning to her reading with an air 'That'll fix her'. Herder she is not.

Snow swats at the hand. Heee! Playplay! Foodfood! She scampers up on the couch, chittering and then launches herself at Miralwyn.

Eeek! It's a crazy ferret! Mindhealing generally lending itself to humans only, Miralwyn feels no need to intervene. In fact, getting as far away as possible without leaving the couch seems to be her idea. Fishing some herdbeast jerky from her pocket, to the interest of her firelizard, she proceeds to toss it to the carpet, waving away the ferret with a "There. Food... go away."

Snow stands up on her hind legs and does a proper little ferret bow, just like she was taught to do before throwing herself off the couch to the jerky. Hah hah! Success!

Miralwyn simply eyes the furry pest with relief as it zips away again. She returns to her reading with a grumble of "First trundlebugs, now ferrets... What is this, Herder Hall? Shut up, Terraverte!" The last an aside to her green firelizard, who's rather put out about not getting a snack as well.

Snow finishes her jerky. Now what was she sent here to do? Oh! That's right! That's right! She runs over to the far and and skitters up, making her way up the wall with sheer determination and gets on top of one of the knives there and starts to pry it loose from the wall.

Miralwyn's studying is really in a hopeless shambles now. Ferrets and firelizards, bah! Settling Terraverte with the remainder of the jerky, she abandons her scroll with a sigh, and moves over to regard Snow's efforts. "You do realize that when it comes loose, you'll fall to the ground with it?" she inquires of the critter. Another sigh. "Oh here, let me help." And fortunately none of the other apprentices are around to hear the excessively reserved young woman carrying on a conversation with a ferret, as she reaches over to prise another of the knives free of the wall.

Snow jumps down and props herself up on her hind legs again, forepaws stretching outwards. Gimmegimmegimme. IwantIwantIneedIneed!

Miralwyn finishes freeing a small bundle of knives from the wall, sets them on an endtable, and drops another piece of jerky for the ferret. "You shouldn't carry those things yourself." she announces. "Idiot-child animals like you are likely to hurt yourself." that proclamation made, it's back to retrieving her scroll.

Snow drops down on all fours and crouches for a minute or five. No shiny. Take. Hmmm... Okay! The little girl scampers up the couch and up the arm of the couch, readying to jump onto the end table. One! Two! Three!

"Of course." notes Wyn dryly from over her scroll, grey eyes still observing the ferret. "If idiot-child animals /insist/ on playing with sharp objects, there isn't a terrible amount I can do to stop them." Sure, she could pick the beastie up, but... It's a ferret. It looks like a furry tunnelsnake, and it -smells funny-.

Snow grabs all the knives all at once in her little grasp and jumps from the end table, to the couch, throws them on the floor and bundles them all up again and starts to make the slow journey across the huge lounge floor. Watch out! Ferret on a mission!

Miralwyn's right eyebrow remains arched as the ferret makes her way off, eyes lowering to her reading once again, although ears remain alert for any squeaks indicating a knife blade has gone awry. Yeah, so she actually does care about the ferret a little bit. Simply out of Healerly concern, you know.

Jathen walks briskly in from the Journeymen and Masters Hall.

Jathen trudges in, not looking in the least bit happy. He had to wake up for this, "Okay! Who slowed up the ferret!" Okay, so there's only one other person in the room so it's obvious, but hey, it's always good to ask. He bends down next to little Snow, laboring her way across the floor. She looks very sorry that's she's late. He puts his sleeve down to her and she drops the knives and scampers up the sleeve. Jathen gathers the knives and replaces them in his bandalier. He looks up and raises a brow.

"The ferret." replies Miralwyn from her spot on the couch, not bothering to glance up. "Would probably still be prying knives from the wall, left to her own devices." Only then does she look up and spot Jathen. Any trace of shock at having taken a tone like that with a ranking Healer is quickly internalized. She's started walking that road, may as well finish it.

Jathen
As Jathen turns his eyes upon you you notice his piercing dark green eyes that seem to be very hypnotical but calm and carry a feeling of care-freeness.. As this initial gaze wears off your eyes trail up to his dark brown hair that is usally pulled back and tied, but always a few errant strands manage to escape and hang into his face, commonly covering his left eye. His face seems very pleasant to the naked eye but there seems to be something behind that smug smirk which he usually wears. His forearms are simply raked with horrendous looking Threadscores. His arms, legs and chest are obviously muscular but he retains the soft, gentle hands of a Healer. His fingers themselves seem a bit longer than they should be but perfectly in proportion with the rest of his body.
Jathen wears a pair of dark green weyrhide pants that are a bit too large for him, but are fastened with a fairly nice leather belt. He also wears simlpe, long sleeved, loose shirt of an off white color. From his right hip to his left shoulder runs a leather bandalier where about ten or twelve knives are holstered, but on his shoulders, partially covering up the knives, hangs a dark brown coat that comes down to his ankles. As he walks is swirls about him like a cape. One his feet he wears a pair of rough brown leather boots. Jathen's Bag o Tricks hangs heavily from Jathen's shoulder.
Jathen wears the knot of a Senior Journeyman. He is a Healer.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 10 minutes.
Carrying:
Jathen's Bag o Tricks Embroidered Pouch
#2951 Wine Goblet
Jathen's Tent
Jathen is 28 Turns, 4 months, and 24 days old.

Miralwyn
Thick brown hair frames a heart-shaped face, falling in a gentle wave to just brush her shoulders. Grey eyes appraise the world calmly, although a dry humour often lurks in their depths. The young woman is slim and petite, height rising to a mere 5' 4, with a smooth complexion of olive skin, for the most part free of the lumps and bumps present in many of her age. While delicate in form, she is possessed of a quiet strength, which manifests itself in every movement, although she rarely raises her voice above a low and mellow alto, and travels with sure grace on silent feet.
The cinder grey of a knit turtleneck wraps snugly and warmly about her torso, completely plain outside of the ribbed pattern of the knitting. Likewise unadorned are the black slacks of a heavy denim, straight cut and clinging, but more out of a distaste for excess fabric than any attempt at seduction. The wearer is quite beyond so obvious a motive as /that/, thank you very much. Black leather ankle boots complete the tableau, heels adding a good two inches to her petite height and making a satisfying click when walked over stone floors. A black wool jacket is also about, draped neatly over an arm when not in use. Hiding in Miralwyn's hair is Thebes. A grey leather satchel hangs from Miralwyn's shoulder, several interesting bulges apparent. Miralwyn wears Miralwyn's Listening Tube around her neck. Perched on Miralwyn's left shoulder, Terraverte twines her tail around her neck.
Purple and white twine together in a single loop knot. While simple, it's worn with quiet pride by the Healer Apprentice who owns it.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Thebes Miralwyn's Listening Tube
Grey Leather Satchel Terraverte
You notice Miralwyn looking at you.
Miralwyn is 18 Turns, 5 months, and 16 days old.

Jathen sighs and frowns at Miralwyn, "I could have you scrubbing floors for the next sevenday straight. Shells be to your classes and book reading as well as sleep." He shrugs, "Snow's a very dependable ferret. I don't take lightly to people getting in my little girl's way." He eyes flash and then dim. The fingers of his right hand switch as if getting ready for something...

"You could do that." agrees Miralwyn with her usual calmly expressionless air, peering over her scroll again. "But I don't know if it would really do much good." The statement is far from a ringing defiance, delivered in a tone of logical reason. "My apologies for interfering with your ferret, though. I wasn't quite sure who she belonged to."

Jathen comes right in front of Miralwyn and kneels down to her eye level, "Mmmm..." He roughly grabs her chin and looks her over, "Do you have good teeth? Ears? Feet? Eyes? Have any problems on your father's side? How many ballads do you know?" He rattles off the questions and lets go of her chin.

/Both/ of Miralwyn's eyebrows arch this time, and a slightly ingrdulous, if quiet, bark of laughter breaks free, before she coughs, composes herself, and in tones of the utmost gravity recounts that "My teeth are clean and all accounted for, my ears hear, my feet run, and my eyes see. My only problem with regards to my father is the fifteen or so half-siblings he's left me with, and I was fully instructed by the Benden Weyrharper, thank you." She tilts her chin regally, and resists the urge to add a slight sniff for effect.

You notice Jathen looking at you.

Jathen frowns at Miralwyn with great scrutiny and then reaches out to slap her cheek lightly and then pokes her stomach, "Who's your mentor. I want to have a word with 'em about you.... Benden, eh? Only redeem value of the place is the wine." He shakes his head and finally stands, takes a few steps back, looking discusted.

Miralwyn looks rather dryly amused by the whole proceedings. Or at least that's the best explanation for the continues studied blandness of her features, coupled with a twinkle in grey eyes. "You are fortunate you didn't say that in a company of the wingriders," she muses. "But I think you would find having a word with my mentor rather difficult, seeing as how I have yet to be tapped by one. You may try anyways, if you like."

Jathen inhales deeply, "Wingriders?" He chuckles, "I've said it to their faces. Care to try again, Apprentice?" He gives her a smirk, "Fine...no mentor. Have any interest in Mindhealing? Or is that not your cup of tea? Probably too advanced for the likes of you." He grins. Dare him. Go ahead. Make his day. His hand twitches again.

"Hmmm... no I don't really care to try again. A game of one-up-manship is rather moot when one half can assign chores with a wave of his hand." notes Miralwyn with the ghost of a grin. "And for a Mindhealer, Senior Journeyman, that's certainly one hell of an assumption to make." she adds, with regards to the difficulty level of Mindhealing. "As a matter of fact, I entered Healer Hall with that specialty in mind."

Jathen nods slowly and then cracks his neck to one side and then the other, "I see... You should probably see Master Sarilka then. Wouldn't want you to get mixed up with some of the other crazies around here." His eyes flash again and then that grin appears again.

"And why her, and not you?" inquires Miralwyn with a twinkle in her eye. "Are you insinuating that I'm /sane/?" She makes the word sound like a grave insult.

Jathen crosses his arms across his chest, "I'm saying that you're sane enough to stay half way on my good side, unlike some other apprentices..." He unfolds his arms and with one hand combs back his long hair, "And Sarilka, to my knowledge, doesn't try to kill you during classes, which I'm well known for doing..."

"Sarilka, however," counters Wyn. "Is in Gar. I like it here." Indeed, her posture has shifted slightly to indicate that the petite young woman would only be removed from her couch, and by extension Healer Hall, with great difficulty. "Besides..." And here her face changes from expressionless to a quick and quirky grin. "I think a class with the threat of death looming over it would be more interesting than the slow death offered by boredom in some others."

Magen has connected.

Jathen chuckles, "Are you asking to be mentored by myself?" A dangerous question indeed. A life definitely hangs in the balance. Job, life. Same thing, right. He looks like a feline about to catch its prey. Sure, this could be interesting.

Miralwyn meets Jathen's eyes with a level, and once again expressionless, gaze. She offers a single word, dropped clearly into the tense quiet. "Yes." So now what're you going to do? Hmmm?

Magen walks to the Healer Great Hall.

Jathen flings out his right hand and in a second the knives imbed themselve in the couch, along the wooden borders, on either side of Miralwyn's head, "Hope you know what you've gotten yourself into." He walks behind the couch and grabs both of the knives, "You've just sold yourself until you walk your table." He chuckles, "You got three candlemarks of hall scrubbing duty. Get to it when you want." To those who actually know it that, 'Get to it when you want' is a compliment of sorts...in a way. Sure.

Miralwyn's reaction to the duo of knives is a fairly severe one for Wyn. Her eyes jump to the size of bubbly pies, and she twitches convulsively a moment, taking a couple snorted breaths though her nose before once again returning to her calm. "Oh, I doubt I'll ever know what I've gotten myself into," she replies, making no comment on the idea of floor-scrubbing, although a light in her eyes suggests wheels are turning. "But while I've gone and sold myself, remember the phrase Buyer Beware... I fully intend to torment you with questions and requests for advice."

Jathen waves a knife at her, "Peddler Be Cautious." He retorts back, "I've had worse... Oh...and a few things. Don't leave the Hall without me knowing. If I see or I get reports of you so much and leaning next to any boys then I'll skin you both alive." He snarls, "That's a valid streat. Ask my last apprentice. Oh...wait. Ooops, you can't." He smiles, "Any questions before I return to my own studies?"

Miralwyn nods. "I assure you I'll keep you informed of any surprise trips to Southern." she notes dryly. "And I also assure you that I don't intend to let matters of lack of hormonal controll interfere with my future goals." Past matters are /not/ going to be discussed, it seems. "As for questions... Just a few." She ticks them off. "Where would I find a list of past Journeyman's projects done on Mindhealing, how often are seminars offered on it, as it's an Advanced class, will I be given instruction by just you, or by a selection of Mindhealers, will I be allowed to sit in on any treatment sessions and... That's all for now."

Jathen ticks them off one his fingers, "You can find a list probably in the records room, classes are held when I want to teach, most of the time I teach it so you'll probably be getting it from me, and yes you can sit in on some of my 'lessdramatic' cases." With and turns about, walking down the hall which he came, twirling his two knives, one on each forefinger, "'Ware The Butcher, apprentice. He's everywhere." And with that he disappears.

Jathen walks briskly to the Journeymen and Masters Hall.
Snow walks to the Journeymen and Masters Hall.