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Harper's Tale 2 - Thursday, May 23, 2002, 3:22 PM
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Vorkoroth's Staging Area
An oversized ledge, much like the matching weyr. Designed as a bronze dragon's abode, but opportunistically siezed upon by the blue and bluerider who reside here, it offers a commanding view of the bowl's goings-on in a space large enough to comfortably hold a quartet of dragons. Neatly swept by a broom that can be spotted hanging from a peg against the cliff face, it bears the air of order and precision in form and function characteristic of any space claimed by Wyn and Vorkoroth. No decoration has been added to the slate grey stone, beyond the patterns and markings hinting at centuries of occupation by various 'riders and their mounts, but it maintains an aura of comfortable use, form following function, and the residue of hours of soaked-up sunlight. A stack of crates containing who-knows-what is piled neatly against the rock wall, beside the short entry tunnel to the weyr, making admirable seats for humans when the weather is right.
It is a winter midmorning. The sun is hidden behind clouds, occasionally peeping through to gleam off the white layer of snow on the ground. A breeze blows from the west, making the air seem even colder.
Blue Vorkoroth is here.
Obvious exits:
Weyr

Vespurath soars in for a landing.

Wyn is sweeping again, large piles of snow meeting death by falling as she ruthlessly sweeps them over the edge of the ledge to occasionally threaten passerby below. As the occasional burst of viscious swearing wafting up can attest. Wyn looks blandly amused at such noises, and sweeps all the more. Vorkoroth's equally interested, amassing a large pile of the white stuff, and plotting a quiet campaign of his own.

Vespurath sweeps onto the ledge, wings bringing up a swirl of fresh snow that delights the green, who twists her neck to watch the patterns created before a reminder from her rider sends her hunkering down so Tatia can dismount. "Wyn!" Tatia greets as her gaze settles on the weyrling. "Just who I was looking for." Obviously. Since she landed on her new ledge. Aw. Hope Vesp didn't mess up those lovely piles.

Roherith soars in for a landing.

Olia slides from Roherith's fire mantled neck and lands gently on the ground.

Olia dismounts, having flown in with as little flair and fanfare as possible. "Heyla, folks," she says cherrily, words muffled by a heavy scarf she's tied about her. In fact, very little of her actual face is visible.

Roherith is all about the ladies. And he's well aware that Vespurath is one of them. He folds, unfolds, and rearranges his wings importantly, striking a thoughtful pose as he regards the piles of snow. He might just have to experiment with pushing it off the ledge. Just to see what would happen. All innocent intentions, of course.

Oh, Vespurath certainly /did/ mess up Wyn's neat piles, but an amused rumble from Vorkoroth at her stricken expression sends it quickly back to bland, after a mental raspberry for the blue. A blue who appears to have gotten over his fear of Vespurath, and indeed offers a cheerful rumble-purr to both the new arrivals before dispatching a large tail-sweep of snow over the side, eyes whirling satisfaction as a high pitched shriek echoes upwards. Vorkoroth: 1, S'titch 0. "Vor..." chastises Wyn dryly. "That's not at all nice. And hullo there, Tatia, Oli. Welcome to our humble abode."

Vespurath is /not/ one of the ladies. Obviously, Roherith has a lot to learn. She's not paying attention to the weyrlings, anyway. She's got something better to do. Her head lowers, and she sends great, powerful snuffles across the stone, coaxing the thin bit of snow left into more swirls and patterns. Tatia, on the other hand, actually came to be social. Or something close, at least. When buisness is about social activity, it counts as social, right. Her lips quirk into an amused smile at the shriek, but she doesn't comment, choosing to remark on said humble abode instead. "All settled in yet?"

Olia arches a brow (if you can see it) at the cry from below. But even rule book thumping Oli can't hold back a dry chuckle. Then, to Wyn "Humble? This place is.../big/," she says, waving one gloved hand at the stone around her. Behind the brownling, Roherith is doing his best to look impressive, nosing at the snow and pushing little drifts of it over the edge while turning his head about cunningly to catch the light so it may glint off his ruinic headnob pattern. Well, cunningly to him. It prompts Olia to ask "Ro? You're neck ok?" before turning back to the others. Roherith, draconically embarassed, nudges moodily at the snow, but stops moving his neck about like a two-headed wherry.

Vorkoroth is looking distinctly pleased. In a bland sort of way, attempting to copy Wyn's style humour for his own private amusement. Another mental raspberry from Wyn, and she sweeps a cloud of snow at him with a smirk, before nodding to Olia. "I was being facetious," she allows. "It was really a fortunate accident we managed to aquire this before anyone else. The previous owner retired to Southern." They did /not/ discover it while hiding from an over-curious Vespurath. Nope. "And yes, fairly well settled in, Tatia. Would you two care to come in out of the cold?" she inquires, sweeping a hand towards the entry tunnel.

Across shades of pine and sage, Tatia slides down Vespurath's side, landing on the ground with a slight bounce.

Of course not. Vespurath would never inspire someone to hide. Look at her. She's quite innocently, happily playing with the whirling clouds of snow. "Love to," her somewhat less happy, quite chilly rider responds. "I'm freezing out here. I swear it gets colder and colder every year up here." Lucky for her she has that dragon. Y'know. The one that can pop down to warm Southern beaches on afternoons off.

Olia looks relieved. Part of her is still stuck in Paradise and wishing for a bit of that weather, especially with the arrival of winter. "Yes, thanks." She's already unwinding the giant scarf from her face in anticipation.

Wyn nods, and then steps into the weyr, beckoning accordingly.
You head to the heart of the Vor Imperium.

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 and a quartet of elderly chairs in front of it, with neat pegs and shelves 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.
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 three dragons and two people.
Peering from a crevasse in the wall are two firelizards.
You see Grey Leather Satchel and Old Marble Chess Set here.
Obvious exits:
Ledge

Tatia slips in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.
Olia walks in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.
Olia heads out to Vorkoroth's Staging Area.
Vorkoroth> Olia walks in from the The Vor Imperium.

Wyn precedes Tatia into the weyr, and waves a hand towards the furniture in the place. Four black laquered chairs and a large crate of Benden wine doubling as a coffee table, to be precise. "Have a seat," she offers. "Although watch the chair on the end. The laquer is still a little tacky."

Tatia tugs easily at the blue-and-white striped scarf that's /supposed/ to help keep her warm. Tsunami logo is flicked easily over her shoulder, and her fingers pick at jacket-snaps as she moves in and peers around. "Not bad," the greenrider murmurs absently, pulling the scarf off to dangle in her hands as she finally peels the jacket open. "And it's warm.. that's always a bonus. Horrid when you end up with a weyr that gets drafts in from the ledge. Oh, thanks." The last is an afterthought as she settles into a chair as instructed, neatly avoiding the tacky furnitute.

Wyn nods, and moves over to place a kettle of water in the middle of the absurdly oversized hearth, hanging her jacket neatly on a peg to one side as she goes. "It pleases me," she allows simply, before taking one of the non-tacky chairs and resting her feet on the crate. "And warmth is a decided benefit... This hearth is rather unexpected in size, but I'm not complaining. So... how is Vespurath?"

Tatia lifts a hand, waving it absently toward the ledge where her childish green is occupying herself. There are some benefits to the eight turn old mindset, you know. The absolute devotion of a child. And the ability to /always/ entertain herself. "Oh, she's fine," Tatia reponds with a short shrug. "And Vorkoroth? Liking the added space, I imagine?"

Wyn nods. "Decidedly. He'll likely kill me for telling you, but he spent the first four hours skipping from the weyr to the ledge and back again. Over and over." she reveals, looking rather amused. A tell-tale whistling from the kettle catches attention, and she stands to retrieve it, inquiring "Klah? Or I can offer a hot toddy, if you wish. My father left me a rather... substantial... gift of Benden's brewing."

Tatia's lips twitch into a small, but very amused smile. "Enjoying your sudden freedoms, then? Always good to know. We were lucky enough to have a gather directly after our graduation," she shares as her smile widens a bit in remembrance. "Quite a day, that was. All of us still heady with being able to between, and still on the prowl for things to deck out our weyr with."
.
Wyn laughs quietly, and pours two mugs of klah, adding a dash of the contents of a crystalline decanter to the both of them, and moveing over to hand one to Tatia. "Makes it Ruathan style," she qualifies, before sipping judiciously. "And indeed... Vorkoroth informs me that we're to aquire a pair of tapestries. I've informed him that we will, once I settle on a pattern. Weavers," she notes dryly. "Should never be left /entirely/ to their own creativity. The results can be frightening." Well, if one is Little Miss Conservative, like Wyn.

Vorkoroth> Shirasuth soars in for a landing.

Tatia's brows slide upward, but she doesn't comment as she takes the mug with both hands and lifts it for a sniff before sipping at it catiously. Because of the heat, not the Ruathan nature of the drink. "Vespurath would suggest a starscape in a second," Tatia notes with a small smile as the mug is lowered to rest lightly on one knee. "Have you been in our.. no, nevermind, I don't suppose you'll have ever been over. We've got starts everywhere. On the cieling. She's got a one track mind, for certain." Her head shakes swiftly. "Shards, no! You definately want to tell them what you want. And see the sketches. And check on it before they get too far - one dye a little to bright and you'll regret it forever." You'd think Tat did this all the time.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a smooth calm of grey and blue, rippled in welcome to Shirasuth. <<Tell your rider that my Wyn and Vespurath's rider are in the weyr. You are welcome.>>

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Shirasuth returns the greeting, desert heat within his tone warming any chill, << Thank you and good day Vorkoroth. I will tell him. He's slightly upset about some snow... >>

Vorkoroth> Flap flap flap. Shirasuth flaps his tawny wings, steadily rising upward from the bowl to land on the offensive ledge. Not that the ledge in particular is offensive. It's really a rather nice ledge. But that's not the point. "Wyn! Wy-What?" K'nex calls, stopping to peer at his dragon. Then he shrugs and slips down, careful as usual not to fall, and marches into the weyr.

Vorkoroth> K'nex climbs careflully down from Shirasuth's neck, using the bulky brown's extended limb, and steps safely onto the ground.
Vorkoroth> K'nex heads deeper into the Vor Imperium.
K'nex wanders in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath warbles an absent-minded greeting toward Shirasuth as the brown appears, though her head does swing about to give K'nex a long, interested glance before a sudden gust of wing catches a swirl of snow and sends it upward again, and she's distracted. << Snow is lovely. >>

Wyn returns to her own chair and perches on it, birdlike, as she sips at her drink and nods once or twice in agreement in an academic sort of listening silence. "Precisely. I believe I'll take a few swatches of fabric from my other furniture, so that they have a template to work off of... I'm /attempting/ to use black, grey, blue and cream as my main colours in here... K'nex!" The sartorial discussion is broken off in favour of a quiet greeting to the arriving brownrider, a curious eyebrow arched. "Welcome to my weyr?"

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he offers a quiet interest, a spiral added to the pool of subdued tones. Academic only, of course. <<Upset about snow...? How intriguing. Does he usually become upset about things meteorological?>>

Tatia is far from birdlike. She's much too interested in the comfort that slouching down into her chair can afford, though she does cross one leg over the other. Even that movement manages to look lazy, though, and she shifts her mug carefully. "Definately a good idea. Attempting? What, does Vorkoroth not like..." And then she too trails off, curious expression turning to her wingsecond. "K'nex? I thought I told you'd I'd stop by and make sure the weyrlings knew..." After all, she came on buisness. Therefore, he must have, too.

K'nex stomps in. As much as K'nex can stomp at least, he's never had much practise. "Hello. Wyn," he greets, althought it's not quite as frendly as you'd usually expect. Actually, he's frowning...for a moment or two before he just knots his brows, looking like a sad puppy, "You swept snow on me..." Whine. Oh, pity poor K'nex. He had snow swept on him. "At least, I think it was you..." And from whiney to confused in a second as he blinks at Tatia. "What? Knew? Oh. That." 'That' is apperantly not something he's enthusiastic about.

"Oh, Vorkoroth approves greatly," allows Wyn to Tatia, with another sip of her Ruatha-fied klah. "It's some of the other weyrlings. It's apparently too dark, and V'der informs me that my matress is too soft." Just how V'der is qualified to comment on Wyn's matress is left in the shadows as she turns to K'nex, looking neither repentant 'nor smirking. Just... blandly Wynnish. "That rather depends. Was it a large pile of snow, or a smaller one? Klah?"

Tatia frowns at K'nex, brows furrowing intently. "Yes, /that/," she replies, tone indicating that he should at least feign a bit more enthusiasm for 'that'. Wyn's comment distracts the greenrider, though, and she turns back to the weyrling, allowing her gaze to traverse a good deal of the weyr on the way. "Well.. you're the one who has to live here. Do it how you like," she points out practically.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Shirasuth agrees with Vespurath, but takes a slightly different view. << It's interesting, but cold. Which, I believe is the problem. Some snow fell on us. Apperantly, it was swept off. >> Here the brown shares a picture perfect image of snow being swept off a ledge. << See? He's usually not upset about weather and such things, although my Kex complains about the cold. >> Probably the reason he's upset enough to ask Wyn about it.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that Vespurath twines loops of irritated blue around the pair. << You're distracting me, >> she mentions pointedly, and then promptly whuffles a cloud of snow toward the both of them.

<Local> Vorkoroth senses that he mentally eyes the provided image with a considering gaze. <<Ah, that,>> he allows, ignoring Vespurath's comment. <<Yes, that /was/ us, but we /did/ offer a warning beforehand.>> Therefore it's clearly Not Their Fault if K'nex wasn't around to hear it.

Vorkoroth> Zhesteth soars in for a landing.
Vorkoroth> Lhana turns sideways and sliiiides down Zhesteth's conveniently-placed forelimb, landing on the ground with a soft *thump*.
Vorkoroth> Lhana heads deeper into the Vor Imperium.

Lhana glitters in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

K'nex blinks at Wyn, knotting ihs brows in confusion this time. "Uhm...Oh, I don't know...it was snow. It was cold. It was unplesant. It came from-" The Black Lagoon! No! "-this ledge. I think. I'm pretty sure. Maybe." So sure of himself. Yes. "Erm, yes please," he replies to Wyn's offer of klah. Tat just gets a worried look as the brownrider bites his lip. Yes. That.

"That...?" inquires Wyn of Tat, politely quizzical as she stands again to prepare more klah, dodging neatly around the crate-of-alchohol coffee table as she goes. "Do tell what 'that' is, if you can? Sounds most intriguing." A slightly-more-generous amount of whiskey is added to K'nex's mug before she hands it over with a "My humble apologies for freezing you, sir," that doesn't sound terribly repentant, if friendly enough. Lhana's presence hasn't yet been noted as she offers "HAve a seat, but watch the chair on the end there..." A hand is waved at one of the black-laquered quartet. "It's still tacky."

And it's time for Wyn's favorite time of the day: The Unannounced Visit From Lhana!! Okay, so maybe it isn't her clutchmate's /favorite/ time of the day, but...well, it darned well should be! And so, the greener-weyrling barges into Wyn's weyr, unheedful of such societal impedements as knocking on doors. "Oh Wyniiiiiie!" she calls, "I just thought I'd - " Wait. Blink, blink. "Oh. You have guests." Lhana watches them for a moment, then shrugs, evidently deciding that if Wyn was foolish enough to invite people over when she /knew/ (as she well must have) that Lhana might drop in at any moment, then it's her own fault if her little party gets disturbed. And so, in she comes. And seat she takes, even if it wasn't actually offered to herself. It's obviously meant for her, after all. "Hullo Tatia, K'nex," she greets, apparently unheedful of her own rudeness.

"Oh!" Tatia exclaims, startled as her gaze settles firmly on Wyn. That's right. The subject of their conversation is sitting right there in front of her. And now she's smiling a bona-fide smile of anticipation, an expression that fades only long enough for another sip of that Ruathan klah. "Well, since there aren't any gathers or anything coming up for /you/ guys to celebrate with, and since we /are/ your mentor wing, we thought we'd aquaint you with an ages-old, but much neglected Tsunami tradition," she begins, smile back in place. "I thought if I stopped by, you could make sure the other weyrlings knew.. I haven't seen Fyria around." Thus, wingsecond is next best? Her eyes lift to Lhana, and her train of thought pauses as she frowns faintly at the weyrling. Psst. You're interrupting top-secret meetings. G'way.

K'nex just sorta...looks at the mug. You know, the way you'd look at if if a small bug dropped into it. "Uhm...Thanks...no problem...Just don't do it again," he says distractedly, still looking at the mug. Uhm. "Right...," he says, still sounding distracted and not-all-there as he looks at the seats and then daintily sits himself down on the edge of one. "Oh, hello Lhana." Well, he's slightly less distracted now that he's stopped staring at the mug. "Hm. Yes. Tradition." Give him some credit, he's /trying/ to sound a /little/ enthusiastic. A little.

Syl glides in from the Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

And once again Wyn's on her feet, preparing another mug of the Ruathan klah which she holds out to Lhana with a resigned expression. "And hello to you, too, Lhana," she offers, switching to a tolerably amused smile after a moment, and waving towards the last of the sit-able chairs. "Have a seat?" She trots over to the curtains blocking off the inner weyr and returns with a large cushion to sit on a moment later, settling on it in a modified lotus position with her klah mug. "Do go on...?" she inquires of Tatia.

Lhana manages to quite ignore both Tat /and/ her frown, giving K'nex a dazzling smile as she settles onto her chair. Wyn, likewise, gets a mouthful of pearly whites directed her way, especially at the klah offering. "Ooooh, thank you! Is this Ruathan klah?" It's almost as if that's what she came for, somehow. Interesting. After taking a sip and pronouncing it "Mmmmm, good!", Lhana crosses her legs in a very ladylike manner, shifts to a position where she can best show off her new pink leathers, and then inquires sweetly, "Soooo...what's everyone talking about?" Not that she's butting in or anything.

That's quite a feat! Very few people manage to ignore both Tatia and her frown in one fell swoop. The greenrider shifts a bit, frown still in place, as she responds to both Wyn and Lhana. "Well. I /was/ about to tell Wyn about a Tsunami tradition we've decided to revive. Before we were interrupted." She doesn't /say/ 'rudely'. But you can just hear it in her tone.

Syl shuffles possition and preens his blue wings.

Madawaska lifts a blue 'ridge and hisses quietly at Syl. Quiet, interloper.

K'nex just sits there hunched over on the very edge of his seat, klah mug nestled between both hands and resting on his knee. And that's where it stays, too. "Oh, yes...that tradition," Kex says, looking from rider to rider, smiles, and looks back at he floor. There. He looked happy about 'That'. Now leave him alone.

Lhana nods in response to Tat's words, whilst simultaneously giving her a little glare. Don't you use that tone with her! Lhana is just /far/ too important for that. "Oh well, that's nice," she says, her tone a bit too sweet to be sincere. "Which tradition is that?" After all, anything that's to be said to Wyn can be said to Lhana, right? Since they /are/ such close, personal friends and all.

Wyn eyes Lhana and Tatia closely. Catfight in her weyr? T'would be amusing, at least. She continues to sit cross-legged on her throw pillow and sip at her adulterated klah, turning to K'nex instead. "Could /you/ tell me of this tradition?" she inquires mildly, apparently sensing disapproval of it, and moving in for the kill.

Tatia has yet to meet a person whose glare has been inspiring enough to keep her from using whatever tone she chooses. Her lips part, ready to respond... and then Wyn has turned to /K'nex/? Her lips purse, and if anyone were paying strict attention, they might notice that faintly glazed look that indicates her dragon is getting swift intructions.

It would only be amusing until Tatia decked Lhana. Then it'd stop being so amusing. "Um. Tradition, right..." It's not so much disapproval as an unwillingness to participate. Wait, he doesn't have to participate does he? K'nex glances over at Tatia a second and then clears his throat. "Oh, just a party thing. You know." Well, no she doesn't, but still. "Er...real fun and exciting and you'll really want to go." And that last bit is added a few seconds later. Delayed response? Or orders from some else?

Wyn sips at her klah, savouring the warm fire of the whiskey a moment before smiling politely at K'nex and continuing to needle. She could ask Tat, but Tat would /tell/ her, you see. So much more fun to dig. We /have/ mentioned that Wyn's sense of humour is warped, right? "Party? Fun? How so?"

Catfight? Only fun if you /aren't/ Lhana, I suspect. At any rate, the situation seems diverted enough for her, and she shifts her attention back to her klah. Mmmm. K'nex just gets a curious look. "Yeah K'nex...what /kind/ of party?" Now you've gotten her curious, see.

Plus, if Wyn keeps digging at K'nex, Tatia gets to look more and more frantic, though she tries to hide it with several sips at her klah. Her eyes linger on K'nex firmly, and one may get the feeling that she's /willing/ him to explain it correctly. Or instructing her dragon to instruct his to instruct him to explain it correctly.

<< You sense that Vorkoroth has awakened. >>

Oh, /sure/. Everyone just pick on K'nex! /That's/ not compleatly usual. And you people wonder why he never wants to leave his weyr. Eesh. "Uhmm..." He starts, or fails to start. "You know. Party. Beach. Music. So on so forth..." My he really is doing a bad job isn't he? "You know you should as Tatia. She had a speach all planned out already." Kez smiles, trying to look sincere. Please leave him alone? "/Leave/?" Whoops. Was that out loud? I swear that wasn't as random as it seemed.

Wyn's slight smile rapidly shifts to one of beatific serenity. Sitting in her lotus position on the throw pillow, she looks almost saintly. Quick, someone smack her. "Oh, you're doing a /fine/ job of explaining, K'nex," she encourages blandly.

Lhana isn't quite sure what /Wyn/ is getting at - she's never really understood Wyn, anyway - but /she/ actually wants to know. However, she also doesn't want to speak to Tatia. Grudgeholding, anyone? Thus, she turns back to K'nex, giving him an encouraging smile. "Yes, /do/ go on, K'nex." Beam.

Tatia is simply watching. K'nex. Intently. /Daring/ him to continu, judging from the intenseness of that gaze. Finally she nods, and her voice is ice-cold and soft as she speaks. "Yes, K'nex. /Do/ go on." Mocking Lhana? Never.

K'nex glances from person to person and then casting his rather skittish gaze around the rest of the weyr. "No I'm not...," he whimpers to Wyn, staring as his so far untouched mug. Twitch. "Uhm, maybe I'll just be going then...Tatia is so much better at this than I am..." Eep.

Lhana leans forward, all prepared to probe K'nex further, when suddenly her eyes glaze over. Yes, that's right - she's talking to Zhesteth. Lhana sighs, stands up, and says, "Well, I'm wanted outside. I promised Zhesteth I'd take her to the meadow to play in the snow." Sigh. "So, I suppose I'll have to see you guys later..." Aw. The nuisance is leaving. Aren't you sad?

Lhana heads out to Vorkoroth's Staging Area.

Wyn looks vaguely pitying at the whimpering K'nex. Dratted Healer empathy. And so she turns to Tatia, looking bemused as she quirks an eyebrow.

Tatia shakes her head suddenly. As Lhana leaves, the atmosphere is suddenly much nicer. Her lips purse, and she offers a thin smile toward K'nex. Go on. Tat's not speaking.

K'nex gives both Tatia and Wyn a nervous grin, just staring at them both with like look like 'Well? Someone else is supposed to pick it up here'. After all, he looks rather reluctant to say anything. Anything. At all.

Wyn simply returns to looking saintly, balancing her teacup, which is masquerading as a klah mug, having dispatched her limited amount of crockery amongst the guests, on one palm.

Tatia certainly isn't going to break the silence. She has Ruathan klah to sip out. Besides. She always wins these things. Especially if K'nex is involved. He simply gets nervous too easily.

K'nex has Ruathan klah to stare at? And that's what he does after he stops smiling and drops his gaze. Oh, come on. He's not good at this. Shards, he didn't even want to be a part of this conversation. He just go dropped snow on him. Woe is Kez.

Wyn continues to apparently meditate on the somatic delights of Ruathan Klah, savouring a sip now and again. But always, grey eyes regard K'nex with a dry inquiriy.

Green eyes join grey ones, though these are framed by arching red brows and reflect anxious expectation. Come now, Kez. Tatia's waiting. Wyn is waiting. Speak.

Speak: Arf! No...That's not what is meant here. K'nex twitches, looking everywhere but at the two others in the room. Ah, Tatia might recognize this. Kez is about to snap. "Stop /staring/ at me!" Ah, there we go.

Wyn blinks, looking politely baffled, as if K'nex has suddenly started to babble about purple dragons toss dancing on the surface of the sea. "Staring...?" she queries. Before returning to doing just that.

Tatia grins swiftly. Shards, but she loves doing that. She's such a loving person, really. "We're simply waiting for you to explain about the wet-tunic contest, K'nex," Tatia replies sweetly. Nevermind that little prompting reminder stuck in the explanation.

K'nex isn't prone to sillyness like purple dragons toss dancing and such nonsense. Pink dragons on parade, though..."Yes, staring," he snaps. Which is really /much/ closer to a whine than a snap. Suddenly Kez sits up strait and looks at Tatia. "Oh, were you? I thought /you/ were going to explain that part..." Please? Aww. Come on. You know you want to.

Something suspiciously like a snicker escapes from Wyn's direction, although her expression is carefully bland within a millisecond of the noise. And she sips at her klah, eyebrow still raised in inquiry.

Tatia shakes her head minutely. "No, dear," she replies, voice still sweet. "/You/ were." You should know to beware from that one simple sentance. Because 1) Tatia referred to someone other than Eitanex as 'dear.' And 2), she spoke in that /tone/.

K'nex's surprised expression slowly fades into a more worried one and the brownrider simply swallows. Errr..."Oh." Right. Wet-tunics. "What's there to explain, really? There's teams and it involves wet, clinging tunics..." Can he go now? Without being maimed?

"Wet tunics?" carols Wyn in her low alto. "How intriguing. So... is this a contest, or simply a group bonding activity?" A glance down at her own chest area. "I admit to having a small amount of pride in my own looks in a wet tunic, but I certainly won't offer much competition to some..." Lis. Coughcoughcough.

Why do you think the /Tsunamis/, of all wings, came up with this tradition? Tatia shifts, finally having pity on poor K'nex. "Contest, of course," she replies with a slow smile. "A party, too, of course.. we'll cook out on Southern's beach. The competition is just.. a bonus."

K'nex is wingsecond. You think he actually /knows/ about these things? "I think it's a contest...uhm...," he says, trailing off as he looks to Tatia for help...and simply beams as he gets it. Yay. "Oh, yeah. Party." Mmmhmmm.

Wyn sighs slightly. "Southern. Beaches. /Warmth/." she intones, looking oddly dreamy for Wyn. Perhaps it's the spiked klah. "So... when is this event set to occur?" she inquires of the two Tsunamites.

Tatia's grin is knowing as it slides toward Wyn. "Thought you guys'd like it. Next sevenday. The wing'll probably be down and back all sevenday, taking things down so we don't have to use Southern's supplies. We plan to make it an overnight thing." Her grin widens a bit. "I imagine several would have trouble getting home that night. So we'll stay in tents on the beach and come home in the morning."

K'nex just...tries to look like he knows what Tatia's talking about. Because, in theory, he should. But he doesn't, so he'll just have to look like he does. "Oh, yes..." Uh-huh. He, for one, plans on having as little a part in this as possible and he would defiantly be able to get home without any trouble anytime. ...right?

Wyn nods sagely. "An excellent idea. I, for one, have no tolerance for alchohol." She /giggles/ when she's drunk. Fate worse than death. Not that it stops any of her wingmates or relatives from feeding her the stuff. Her klah is placed on the wine crate-turned-coffee table, and she inquires "Would you like me to pass word to the rest of Maelstrom Wing?"

Tatia starts faintly, surprise glimmering in her gaze for just a moment. "Maelstrom? That's what you chose, hmm?" she muses absently before she blinks herself back to the present and gives a swift nod. "Certainly. The more, the merrier.. and the weyrlingmaster staff is invited, as well." A small, pleased smile creeps across her features. "Three way teams... I hear it's always an.. interesting.. competition."

K'nex /sings/ when /he's/ drunk. And you all don't want to hear that, no. Not that he drinks. Hence the reason why his mug still hasn't been touched. "Ah, yes," he quietly agrees. To what he's agreeing with, that's debatable. He's not /really/ listening, you see. Not anymore.

Wyn has noted the untouched mug. And finally feels called to remark on it. "I assure you that it's drinkable," she comments with a twitch of her lips. "My klah brewing skills are perfectly adequate." And then a nod to Tatia. "Indeed, Maelstrom Wing. There were a few options bandied about, but in the end we decided to continue tradition, and give a nod to the mentor wing."

"I should hope so," Tatia remarks, voice somewhat tight before she glances toward K'nex and his untouched mug before she smiles faintly. "It's not your klah, don't worry. K'nex doesn't drink. Or he thinks he doesn't." Because the brownrider can't answer for himself.

K'nex can't answer for himself. No. Of /course/ not. He doesn't seem at all bothered that Tatia answered for him, though, simply nodding mutely at first. "I /don't/ drink. Not think, I /don't/." And with that, he falls silent again.

"Nothing wrong with that," offers Wyn simply. "I tend not to drink overmuch myself, left to my own devices." Actually, left to her own devices, and not being saddled with large crates of alchohol from her father, she'd probably not drink at all. Disgusting, no? "Well, be that the case, I can give you a teetotaller's version of the klah, K'nex. Get you a refil, Tatia?"

Tatia smirks faintly. "K'nex had a rather bad experience at Ista and is afraid to try again," she points out with a short glance toward the brownrider before she shakes her head. "Oh, no thanks, Wyn. I'm good. It was lovely, though." Whoa. A compliment.

A compliment from Tatia? Remember this day, Wyn. "Oh, no thanks Wyn," K'nex offers politely. "As long ago as I said I should be going, I really should be going now..." After all, he didn't /mean/ to get sucked into a conversation.

Wyn will write it in her journal. If she kept a journal, that is. "Special blend," she offers to Tatia. "I have an inside line to get more, if you'd like a box for yourself." Collecting the empty mugs from various areas, the blueling assembles them in a basin for cleaning later, before retaking her cushion. "I suppose I'd best let you go, then. Thank you for visiting, and always remember to look up before passing my weyr on foot?" she offers by way of farewell to K'nex.

Tatia's fingers tap absently against the side of her mug as she ponders that, watching Wyn. "I may, actually. That was really nice," she replies before offering her mug to the cleaning Wyn and stands, hands absently brushing at her leathers out of habit. "I think I'd better be going, too. Be sure to pass the word on, hmm?"

K'nex stands slowly, having gotten rid of the mug. He's sure it was wonderful klah. Sure. "Always, Wyn, alywas," he says in response to looking up when he passes under her weyr and shakes his head. Eesh. "Yeah, pass the word on...and such..." He's back to being unenthusiastic about it. Well, what do you expect?

Wyn finishes collecting the mugs and stowing them in their proper place, and gives a nod. "Decidedly I'll do so," she assures. "Perhaps we can see to it that S'titch is kept too inebriated to do much harm...?" A longing thought. And then, with a last nod, the weyrling vanishes into the inner weyr, leaving the 'riders to find their own way out. Apparently we still need to work on those hostessing skills.

Tatia heads out to Vorkoroth's Staging Area.
K'nex heads out to Vorkoroth's Staging Area.