Crashing the Living Caverns

Western Weyr - Living Caverns
Here is the center of Weyr life, the living caverns. These two main rooms were man-shaped from smaller caves, and are joined by a carved arch with depictions of dragons in flight and dolphins leaping in swirling waves. One room has many round stone and wooden tables and a stone fire-pit instead of a hearth. Over the round-walled, gas fired pit is a large conical hood made of polished bronze, with reliefs of dragons with their riders flying over ships guided by dolphins. This hood and chimney keeps the room smoke-free. Through the archway is an enormous hall, with long tables and benches, some carved from the rock floor, many crafted of wood. This room is a combination dining and meeting hall, and can seat over 300 comfortably. Above both rooms, angled shafts lined with polished metal bring in sunlight during the day. Electric lights also burn, day and night.


"Uh, nothing." Arkoss tells Dryssa hastily. "So what brought you here, anyway? I was dragged over by Amarante." he gestures to where the girl went.

"ShardingfaranthbythefirstshellshardsahellaFARANTHFARANTH." What a very strange, long curse. The voice is familiar; doesn't look like Xaleres has been gone for very long, but he's already back. He looks well fed-by the way he holds his belly-but rather perturbed by something.. obviuosly. A few melodramatic stalks later, he arrives at the table of Dryssa and Arkoss, glaring down at them with a big fat frown. "Either of you seen a small bag, about yay big, I SWORE it was in my pocket but when I went to talk a bath…" He obviously didn't get that far; his belt is unbuckled, and jacket draped over his shoulder; heck, even his bootlaces are untied.

Dryssa blinks in confusion for the umpteenth time tonight by the sudden onslaught of cursing, nearly jumping out of her seat. When she identifies the now-familiar man with the missing bag she gives him an apologetic look and shakes her head. "Uh-uh. Is it something you need to take a bath?" She asks, confused.

"No," Xale says with exhasperation, showing the first hints of an emotion other than humor for the first time tonight. "Not for a bath. I need it to fund my EXISTENCE." Hand-slam-on-table, PshAW! "That was pretty much ALL I had, which wasn't much after I forgot everything else in Ista, and.. and well CRAP." After several moments of hyperventilation, and raising his hand up again so that he might slam it down once more, he finally just gives up and collapses into a chair next to Dryssa. "Oh whatever. It's just marks and… stuff. Right?" He looks between the two. "Sooo.. What lovely little conversation did I interrupt?" Let's just forget about his little episode there.

"Not much of one." Arkoss replies dryly. "I was just asking her what brought her here all the way from Xanadu, which is where I came from as well. We met previously there." he starts looking under the table and such. "When did you see it last?"

Dryssa frowns and peers under the same table that Xaleres was just looking under, unhelpfully. "Well… just retrace your steps, and you should be able to find it?" She pauses for just a moment, biting her lip. "… I guess this means you won't be able to pay me that commission?" What a great time to bring that up. She brightens at the question. "We were mostly just talking about bikinis. That woman who was here earlier is going to buy some from me! I think."

Xaleres's scowl fades as he stares off at the other side of the room. "Saw it last when I was here at the table. Well, at least, I /felt/ it. Hard to miss a giant lump on your backside. I musta just.. Oh well. Whatever. It wasn't more than two marks, not a HUGE deal, but.. Yeah, Dryssa. That means I pry can't pay you, so.. Don't worry about it." He holds back another heavy sigh, and tries to remain upbeat as he throws his feet up onto the table in front of him. "Oh well, origins is always fun," he says, attempting to avert the topic. "Everybody's got one, nobody wants one. Oh really, she wanted a bikini? Gonna have to see the test run on that." Winkwinknudgenudge say no more. "What about this boy here? He want a bikini to go with that skirt he wore?" Chuckle.

Dryssa frowns a little at Xaleres, looking very sympathetic to him. "Well, nobody has come by to clean up since you left… maybe it's still around? Check again!" She smiles a little, trying to be encouraging. "And if you lost it… well, maybe you can help me with some projects to pay for the commission? I could use an assistant. And she's going to try some on at the beach tomorrow, you can come along!" Poor naive Dryssa. She giggles once more. "She suggested that, too."

"I wouldn't fit, as I mentioned earlier." Arkoss repeats patiently, scowling at Xaleres. "Girls don't have to worry about such things."

"Oh really? She shared the sentiment?" Xaleres turns an eye towards Arkoss as he responds to Dryssa. "Well, I do have to say, he'd look rather dashing in a spotted pink and purple one, but, I could be wrong. And, come now, didn't you hear, the girls an artist! She could make you a plus size brazier, I bet. Matching bottoms too, alltthhoough, judging from what I've seen so far, that'd take much more fabric than I'm sure she's willing to give up." The boy stretches back, wrapping his hands behind his head as he turns again to the girl. "I've already been up and down the caverns, it ain't anywhere I'm going to find it. But like I said, isn't that big of a deal. I think I could manage helping you for a bit, if you could manage to put up with me! I already mentioned, I'm a hopeless craftsmen."

Dryssa beams a little brighter when Xaleres refers to her as an artist, clearly enjoying the little puff to her ego. The suggestions from Xaleres are greeted with a little skepticism. "Personally, I think matching designs are overrated. You're losing an excellent opportunity to add more color!" Oh boy. She smiles sympathetically again. "I'm sure you can earn it back somehow."

Arkoss snorts at Xaleres. "I think not." he retorts, then stands up. "Well since all people seem to enjoy doing around here is ridiculing visitors, I think I'll go back to Xanadu." with offended dignity, he stalks off. And….Amarante wasn't kidding about the getting lost thing, he has been known to disappear for days due to that. So likely he'll turn up again sooner or later.

Poor Dryssa, being sucked into the web of Xaleres-pity. At least he doesn't really look TOO venemous. "Well then missy, guess you're going to have to be the designer for all my attempted insults. I can't be mean if it's not proper!" But, as Arkoss stands, Xale just raises one of his hands in a little 'too-da-loo' finger wave. "Rather touchy little fellow," even if he wasn't all that little. "Must not be very bright on his side of the planet. And, I'll earn some eventually, maybe. Or find a way to borrow some. I don't need money, s'long as I've still got the clothes on my back! Even though… They really aren't much anymore. The sea water totally destroyed the leather." Looking down at himself.. Well, the getup doesn't look in the best of conditions.

Nikolar shuffles into the living caverns. He takes a look around, it's his first time here, but all the caverns he'd been to previously were set up the same. He's sporting his usual outfit with his leather jacket, indicative that he'd just betweened sometime not too long ago. Nik look tired and seems to have difficult picking his feet up propery as he moves himself food-wards. After filling a plate with fruit, cheesecake, cookies and a bubbly, he moves to take a seat, nearly bumping into Arkoss on his way out. "…Excuse me." Nikolar chooses a seat close to the one Arkoss had abandoned, sitting down on it cross-legged.

Dryssa glances off in Arkoss' direction as he departs the cavern. "Weird guy. Must be because he misses his mom so much." Says the girl in the outrageously tie-dyed dress. She gives Xaleres a grin to try to cheer him up. "Hey, as long as you've got your health, you've got everything, right? So… what's there to do around here, anyways? I'm new to the weyr and all." When Nikolar sits down she gives him a friendly smile and wave. "Hi!"

"Welcome to our humble table! We have girl who goes crazy with dyes here at my side, I'm Pern's worst attempted womanizer, and you aaarreee?" Xaleres makes quick work of this one. He even gives Dryssa a little pat on the head when he refers to her. "She's making bikinis, so if you want one for a girlfriend, or for a dip on the wild side, here's your chance." He gives a casual wink as he drops his feet off the table, and starts to lace his boots back up. Let's not make the newcomer lose his appetite from the smell. "It may be that, girl! I've known many a man go crazy over the influence of doting mothers." Streeetch. "I couldn't tell ya, I just got dumped about a dozen or so dragonlengths off the coast about, oh, four or so hours ago. Rather interesting swim, the oceanic life around this island is very interesting. If a bit frightening. Very large teeth. Don't take kindly to jokes."

Nikolar peers over at Dryssa. He starts stuffing his cheeks with berries, then when he's got them properly full, chews them down. Once his mouth his empty and she's been properly studied, he returns her greeting. "Hi." That's it. All that build up for that. He then turns to peer in turn at Xaleres, as if trying to memorize his face. He turns back to his food. "I'm Nikolar. I can't remember ever meeting anyone else with the name 'Pernsworst Attemptedwomanizer' before. You'll have to write it down if you want me to spell it correctly." He stops for a moment at the mention of bikinis. "…I'll pass. You take mine." Then it's back to stuffing his mouth full.

Fyra is stomping mud into the caverns, not really caring about the dirty looks the drudges were sending her way. She might have been a common face in the caverns, if she spoke up much, seeing that she was a new addition to the Weyr itself. Judging by the smell and the muddy boots, she definitely spent most of her time outside and in the pens. There's suddenly a loud curse as she trips before reaching the food table, and faceplants into the ground. Thankfully, being short, it wasn't such a long fall but it still makes her flush in anger as she picks herself up, sitting there in a dazed confusion as she rubs at her palms. "I'm fine," she says quickly to an approaching crafter, making sure to set her brows low in a glare, just in case they didn't believe her.

T'burk walks in from the infirmary and stops dead in his tracks. "What the heck did I walk in on now?"He shakes his head and goes on to get something to eat.

Dryssa frowns just a little at Xaleres' description of her. "I just use dyes creatively. I do not 'go crazy' with them." Although the garish colors of her dress would seem to counter that assertion. "My name's Dryssa!" She says to the new arrival, happily. Xaleres' story seems to confuse her again. "You fell off a ship? Wow. I'm glad you got here okay… funny, you don't look soaked. Was this a while ago?" Fyra's faceplant makes her wince in sympathy. "You okay?" She calls out, apparently having missed the assurance to the crafter.

Xaleres ponders this. "Well, really, I wouldn't object to wearing a bikini. 'Specially not with the attention it'd get me." He gives a stiff chuckle, but shrugs. "Nah, the names Xaleres. A name's just a cover for a personality though, it's much more entertaining to just put nicknames on everyone and run from there. Eh, Sparky?" Another annoyingly narcissitic smile grows on his pale cheeks. "Oh Dryssa, I was just pokin' a bit. Really though, all great artists were insane! Let's just hope you're not so fantastic you lose your noggin. Though, you're so fantastic, I'll just go ahead and consider you crazy, even though you aren't. Well. Actually that's not much better. Whatever. You can just be good and sane. But then again, sane is what wildcat used to describe her incredibly bland color choices…" Xale trails off into well.. something rather strange. "Oh what, fall of? Well.. Sorta. More like.. ceremoniously.. Let off. If you catch my drift. Haha. Drift. Get it?" Oh, isn't he just witty. "How's your face, cupcake!" he calls out to Fyra as he sees the First Encounter of the Floor-Kind. "C'mere and I'll kiss it better!" He just doesn't stop, does he.

Nikolar looks over to catch Fyra flop down face-first. Even he winces a little. That look like it hurt. There's no offers of condolences to her though, not that she seems to want any anyways. He raises a brow at Dryssa. "Creatively. Yes. I can see." Nikolar's own monotone outfit should give Dryssa enough of an idication of his opinions on so much color. He peers at Xaleres' mention of sporting a bikini. "Please don't." Too late, the image is already stuck in there, sloshing around out of control. "You were tossed off a ship then. I see. Trying to sleep with the captain's wife?" There's a pause in Nik's eating to jot something down on the pad of paper sticking out of his pocket.

"I'll find a lift back!" The statement is called in a high, almost tinny voice just from the entrance to the caverns. The bearer of said voice is soon continuing her way into the caverns proper. Skirts flounce a bit as she pauses, taking in a long breath, and Josilyn casts a look around. She holds, before her — and appearing a bit weighed down by it — a large bag that looks like it's been packed full. The bag itself bears the Healer logo upon it. The Senior Apprentice moves lightly to the side, so she's no longer standing in the way of the door, but continues to look over the caverns intently, studying each person and, it would appear, their knots.

Fyra rubs her hands on her pants a bit before fully standing up. They weren't bleeding, thankfully, though as she waves to the others it is clear that they were scraped red. Her face was flushed still, eyes cooly narrowed, as she answers. "Fine, fine. I'm alive so there's nothing to worry about." She sighs at the food table, too far now in her opinion, and takes the nearest seat at the table with the others. "W-what?" Her eyes suddenly widen at Xaleres's offer. "I'd like to see you even try it," she answers back once the shock has passed, sitting up and crossing her arms. "And it's Fyra, not cupcake. /Never/ cupcake," she makes sure to correct.

Dryssa looks uncertain what to make of the comments from Xaleres. "Well… thanks… I think? I don't think I'm crazy. You don't have to be crazy to be creative, do you? You just have to think in new and exciting ways!" Which might just be a positive spin on insanity. Her eyes widen at the tale. "They actually threw you off a ship? Wow. You must've done something pretty bad." She gives Fyra a friendly smile. "Hi there! Glad you're okay."

"Actually, funny you say that!" Xaleres says in response to Nikolar with his face rather aglow with amusement. "That actually has almost everything to do with how I got ON the boat." Well, if you count running from an angry Holder because you tried that with HIS wife. "What's with the notepad? You writing down my witty statements to use on girls later?" Really, he's not THAT cocky; must be some other explanation. "Oh look, it's a party, people everywhere!" is exclaimed at Josilyn's entrance. "Welcome to the Wonders of the Weyr of Western.. Waters!" Oh yes, he's so amazing, he can alliterate. "Okay, sweetums? Sugarplum? Dryssa, am I just going about the wrong route, or does EVERY girl in this Weyr just not being called something /yummy/?" Snicker. "But, well met Fyra, you and your bruised face is welcome at join our table, if you can stand me well enough. Beware that one," he says, pointing at Nikolar. "/He scribbles./" Since that's SO threatening. "And nooo, you're not crazy, Dryss! I was just.. teasin'! Yeah, teasin'!" Glimmer.
T'burk gets a mug of the best spiced klah on the whole planet, a bowl of fresh fruit, and sits down to enjoy it…and listen to what will happen next.

Nikolar notes Josilyn's entrance. A healer, maybe she could just /sense/ that someone had fallen flat on her face and may require medical attention? There's more scribbling into the notepad. Nik then picks up the pie and pulls it apart piece by piece with his fingers, shoving them into his mouth. His big brown eyes turn to Fyra. "Why not cupcake?" Then a sigh to Dryssa. "People call me crazy all the time. It comes with the territory." Nik peers at Xaleres. "Sure." He answers in response to the question about the notepad. "You were a stowaway then." He glances to Fyra. "Maybe she would like 'Meatroll' better?"

Josilyn, notice something? Not likely. At least not in the current situation. She's looking at everyone at eye-level too intently, but not looking at /them/, no. She flashes a smile at those who greet her, but just as quickly looks away when they're not who or what she needs. T'burk, however, gains a brighter expression and she steadily hauls the bag towards the rider. Somehow, just somehow, despite being obviously weighed down by the large burden, she /still/ makes it appear as if she's flouncing along. That may, however, just be the multi-layered skirt she wears. "Sir!" she announces to the rider, "I bring supplies from Fort, as requested."

"Hi," is Fyra's response to Dryssa. She's not as enthusiastic, but she gives the older girl a smile all the same. She shifts in her seat again, picking up her legs to her chin and wrapping an arm around it. "No. No. It's because we're /not/ yummy. Who wants to be named after some food? I'm nothing sweet." And by the glare she gives, she probably isn't. But it's quick to fade as her nose wrinkles up to the boys, glancing back and forth. "Why'd you stowaway to /here/ of all places?" When Nikolar glances her way with that comment, she does the most mature thing she can possibly think of, and sticks her tongue out at him, before setting her chin down on her knees.

"Oooh. Well, that's okay then." Dryssa says with a smile, apparently completely buying Xaleres' explanation for all the 'crazy' comments. "And I wouldn't know, I've just gotten to Western myself. But I think it's kind of a universal that women don't like being compared to food." She nods a little, seconding Fyra's thoughts on the subject. "So are you a local, then? My name's Dryssa. I still don't know what all is worth seeing around here!"

T'burk looks up at hearing the words, "SIr" and "Fort". He looks up and spots the enthusiastic apprentice. He quickly gets up and hurries over to help the lady with the large sack o' supplies. " Ah! It's here! Thank you so much. Let's just set the whole bunch of it here on the table." He helps her carry it and lift it up. Once the supplies are out of the apprentice's hands he grins brightly. "Thank you so much!"

Xaleres drums his fingers against the table. "Well, there's nothing particularly /wrong/ for being crazy. I mean, lookit me. I'm an idiot, and I manage alright. Not so much the title as the perspective, now, eh?" He must be an idiot, if he's still in these clothes; parts of them ARE still wet, and the leather is just sticky and full of salty goodness. Yech. "Stowaway? Yeah, somethin' like that. Stowed by yours truly. It's not that I WOULDN'T have paid for the trip. It's that I COULDN'T. The man ran me off so quick, I barely had time to get my pants on, let alone grab my belongings and money. It's not like she TOLD me she was the Holder's wife. And, feel free to write this if it's entertaing you," he mutters, as if Niko really bothered to ask. "Just.. Don't publish it anywhere." He'd rather not be, ya know, FOUND. "I can call you salty cracker instead. Cracker. That's cute. Right? Anyways, I didn't really wanna come HERE. I just sorta ran on the first ship I saw, they were headed to Xanadu, but made a quick detour so they didn't have to deal with me the whole trip. Didn't even bother going inland, just sailed close enough to dump me. Lucky for those.. weird fishies." Dolphins, he means.

Nikolar can't think of any witty response to Fyra's 'I'm not sweet' that won't come off as very lewd, so he just keeps his mouth shut, concentrating on his plate. He does peer at her after her comment about stowing away. "I don't think a lot of stowaways are too picky about their destination, Meatroll." There's more packing of his mouth while Xaleres tells him his story. Once he's satisfied, he chews. "I generally don't include real names or places. But I could make an exception. It might be fun to hear about you running every which way between holds and weyrs." Either way, Nikolar isn't jotting anything down just yet.

As soon as her hands are free, Josilyn is reaching into one of her pouches and pulling out a small bottle. She puts some of whatever it contains on her hands and rubs them together, looking over to the others chattering away. She blinks a few times, almost sedately, before glancing back to the rider. She beams at him, brushing down her skirts a bit. "You're welcome. I've never been to Western, so when they asked who would bring those… I offered!"

"The holder's wife slept with you? Why?" Dryssa pauses a moment after she asks that, which apparently just slipped out. "Sorry, I didn't mean that quite like it sounded. I mean, I thought holders didn't usually do that sort of thing!" Whatever she means by that. "… I'm not sure 'cracker' is a flattering nickname either. Why not just use her name?"

"Well, welcome to the best Weyr on the planet!" T'burk announces and holds out his hand to shake the Apprentices. "I'm T'burk, WeyrHealer here. Have a seat and I'll get ya a mug of our spiced klah. Would y'all like something to eat?"

Fyra listens to Xaleres's story with increasing interest, head tilting one way and the other on her knees. Really, this was getting to be fascinating. "I'm not local," she answers Dryssa with a shake of her head, plopping her feet down on the ground with a loud thud and dislodging what mud was left on it. "I just moved here to stay with my uncle for a bit. He's a Herder." The older boy gets another long look. "Cracker's still a food and /far/ from Fyra. Really, it's not like /Fyra/ is really so tough to say. Fee-rah." She snorts to him, and then grins. "I hope you learned your lesson about messing with other men's wives. All that leads is to trouble." Well, he did get on the ship… but she probably didn't pick up on that. "/Fyra/," she hisses to Nikolar again. "Or I might as well call you Scribbles. But at least that implies something about you. I look nothing like a Meatroll."

Xaleres stares. Just STARES. "Please. Please don't." He doesn't even bother with threats; that's a plea of MERCY. He turns to Dryssa, shrugging: "Well, no, not exactly. Actually, I have NO idea. I don't remember anything beyond me waking up, passed out on some couch, and hearing him hurl insults as he chased me. From what I gathered, I THINK so. I just.. WELL. Let's not get into it." It's quite the story, but the ending isn't exactly the best. "Oh aye, I picked up on it. Don't mess with other men's girls! That still leaves all the single ones. And, alright, Fyra. Since you actually gave it to me, I'll do the honors of using it." Even if it's.. boring. "Ooh, Scribbles! I guess that one'll have to stick. So, what kinda herder are ya then, FEE rah?"

"I don't know," Josilyn ventures, taking a careful seat at the table. She smooths out her skirts once she's done so. "I quite like Fort and I've not been here long enough to know whether or not it's the best Weyr." She dips her head in a nod, smiling at T'burk again. "I'm Josilyn, Senior Apprentice. Spiced klah would be lovely and I'm afraid the dragon that brought me was a bit… well, my stomach has not yet recovered." She looks over to the arguments, or near-arguments commencing. "Nicknames," she points out to them, "are often a form of fondness. They show that you care enough to put thought into it."

Nikolar picks up the last bites of food from his plate and pushes them into his mouth. "Scribbles is fine. And you certainly /smell/ like herdbeast. But Fee-rah it is." Nikolar gives Xaleres a blank stare for a moment, then writes down something on the pad of paper. Now that he's finished eating he pulls his knees up against his chest. He loses focus on the conversation for a bit.

Fyra rolls her eyes at Xaleres. She would comment on her name again but… "Did I say I was a herder?" She arches a brow at him and then turns to the others as if she might have made that mistake. "I'm not," she corrects. "And that means I'm no kind of Herder." She picks up on Josilyn's words and shakes her head, blonde hair flying. "Fondness! I don't even know these boys," she says over to her, crossing her arms. "And 'meatroll' and 'cracker' is definitely not a sign that anyone cares." Nikolar gets another glare, her jaw setting. "I don't smell at all, Scribbles. I haven't even been around the herdbeasts that much today." But while he's looking down onto his notebook, she takes a whiff of her tunic, just to check.

"So you were drunk?" Dryssa ventures in response to Xaleres' story. "If not, you might want to see a mindhealer about those kinds of blackouts. Sounds like you might be the crazy one!" She snickers and lifts her mug, only to again be reminded that she has already drained all of her klah. She frowns in disappointment, and glances sideways on Nikolar. "On the topic of good impressions with women, telling them that they smell isn't generally good either."

Xale's eyes grow as he hears Josilyn say something about nicknames, causing him to lean back in his chair to observe her better. "Well then, sweet pea, I think you may as well join the club." The blank stare from Niko is regarded for a moment. "Soooo? What'd you write?" Curiousity hasn't killed this cat yet. Fyra's comment gets an eyebrow raise, too. "Aw, I just assume that sorta thing runs in the family. So, pretty lady, what DO you do then!" No mind that she's significantly younger than he is; he'll still point it out. "Oh, I was definitely drunk. Actually, I can't remember the whole trip from Bitra… Sorta just a blur. So, I've decided, I'm giving it up, once and for all. Not gonna ruin myself with booze, nope! Time to straighten things out and be myself all the time!" That actually sounds more dreadful, really. "Don't worry, if I am crazy, we can be crazy together and make crazy babies." Wink wink nudge nudge say NO MORE please.

Nikolar catches Fyra checking her own smell out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't poke anymore fun at that. He raises a brow to Dryssa. "At least you can fix a smell." Crazy was a little harder! Yeah, so Nikolar wasn't very good at the whole first-impression thing. He looks to Xale, then. After a moment of consideration of making him wait a little longer he says, "I wrote: Always have an escape plan that you can remember while drunk." Or you'll end up like Xaleres.

Dryssa furrows her brow and peers at Xale as if actually afraid that he might mean that seriously. "Uhm… don't you think we should get to know each other better first?" She asks, scooting her chair just a little bit away from him. "And didn't we already establish that I'm not crazy? I'm just creative. See?" She points to her ludicrously colored dress for emphasis. "And even if smells can be fixed, I don't think it helps."

Fyra's shoulders droop in defeat. At least the name wasn't relating her to a dessert or an animal. "That sort of thing only stayed with uncle Tyrrol. My mum is a rider and so was my dad." She lifts her chin just a bit more at that with a quirk of her lips. "But as far as what /I/ do, I hunt a lot. Though today I just cleaned stalls while I get settled in." She continues studying Xaleres a bit more. "Does alcohol really mess you up that much?" And because she was curious and probably because he said she smelled, she scoots her chair closer towards Nikolar to see if she can peek at his notepad herself to confirm what he wrote.

Xaleres is actually rather baffled by what Nikolar wrote, which is evident on his face. "Well, that's actually useful! I thought you were just writing down how awful I am. Very good advice there, though. Just hope you remember to read that before you get drunk." Wink-a-wink. "Oh Dryss, I was just kidding with you." Sort of. "How'm I to have any fun if I don't weasel around people's comfort zones? You'll get used to it, I promise." Fyra's answer gets a shocked look, as well. "Hunt? You almost look to fragile to be doin' that. So long as you enjoy it. And aye, if you keep drinking the entire time. I vaguely remember leaving with a trader caravan that was carrying a load of alcohol off to the South, sooooo.. Who knows. I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm here now, on an island surround by crazy fishies."

Nikolar pulls at the cloth of his pants a bit and looks at Dryssa. "Some people don't get the difference." Others were convinced there wasn't a difference! When Fyra scoots over he leans away from her and gives her a look that says 'what do you think you're doing?' He doesn't have to answer her question, though provides one of his own. Nosey bugger. "Your father /was/ a rider?" Scribble scribble scribble. "What do you use to hunt, then?" He peers at Xaleres. "The dolphins?"
"You don't drink?" Dryssa asks Fyra curiously. "You should try it sometime! It's great for getting the creative energy flowing. Almost as good as klah." This could explain a lot. She gives Xaleres a bit of a smile. "Oh! Right. Kidding. I should've seen that… uhm, so, you're stuck here too? I just kind of hitched a ride here myself. Not sure how long until I move on. Until the inspiration dries up, I suppose."

Fyra doesn't seem too happy about the fragile comment either, flexing out her thin arms. "I bet I can wrestle you down any day," she lies, sticking her tongue out to Xaleres this time. "And it doesn't matter how fragile you /look/ but your skills. And I've been trained well in that." She nods her head with a cocky grin of her own, crossing her arms. Nikolar pulling away doesn't bother her, and she doesn't actively try to get a peek at his work. "Yah, he was. Going to write a book about me, too, Scribbles?" She doesn't look too uncomfortable with it being brought up though, and she smirks as she pulls from under her tunic and a stuffed in a back pocket, a slingshot, which most likely would have been a strange bulge on her behind if her tunic weren't so big on her. "I set traps up when I'm with my mom camping. Knives are usually easier for bigger things, but the little ones you can get with good aim." She waggles her weapon around with a chuckle, which continues as she answers Dryssa. "Never had, no. Mum wouldn't allow it."

"Yeah, dolphins." Xaleres says with a shrug. "Nice enough to haul me to shore, but one bit my ankle as I was leaving. Like I said, crazy fishies." Who cares if they're, ya know, mammals. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say /stuck/ here. It's a nice place! Y'all seem friendly enough, the climate's nice once I get some proper clothes, and it's far enough away from Ista I likely won't get hounded anytime soon. I've been travelin' for so long now, I think stopping for at least a month or so'd be nice." He does laugh when Fyra sticks her tongue out at him. "Actually girly, I bet you could kick my butt any day of the week. I'm clumsy and a weakling. I'm actually REALLY surprised I outran that Holder." And now there's a slingshot? Xaleres practically ducks underneath the table. "Wwhooaa, careful where you point that thing! Yeah, remind me to never trust a little woman with pointy objects ever again."

Nikolar stares at Dryssa. "Booze helps you get your creative energy flowing?" Now /that/ was crazy. This only leads to more scribbling of course. He turns to look at Fyra. "If I think you're worth writing about. Ever catch anything bigger than you?" He does give a careful eye over the slingshot though. He looks at Xale as he relates the story about the dolphin biting him. Man bitten, has to get a peg leg. That's about all that gets written down there, if Fyra is stealthy enough to see now that Nikolar isn't leaning over.

Dryssa eyes Xaleres for a moment and wrinkles her nose. "You might want to at least look into getting the clothes that you do have washed. You'll be hard pressed to find someone willing to sell you new clothes when you've lost your money…" Suddenly, she brightens. "Actually, I have some clothes I could lend you! I so rarely find men willing to wear my designs." Oh no. This can't possibly make things better.

"I thought dolphins were supposed to be friendly?" Fyra blinks in surprise at Xaleres's story, but she shrugs both her shoulders. "Well, I bet you wouldn't be hanging around here for long if you get yourself into trouble again. Dragons can chase you a lot easier than a Holder can, so I'd be careful." She does snicker at the image and then proceeds to puff up a bit at the idea that she /could/ beat him. Because honestly, she was a tiny thing.. "Damn right I can!" She snickers some more at his reaction, and pulls a pebble from her pocket as well to notch on the slingshot and pulls back playfully towards nothing in particular. "I better be worth writing about," she answers Nikolar, looking away for a moment. She sets her arms down, though. "Sure I have. Plenty of big game out in the jungle, though with a little bit of help from Saynth at times." A little bit. She does manage to peek over, arching a brow at his writing. She won't say anything yet.

Xaleres blinks. "Uh. Well. They aren't /dresses/, are they? Honestly, besides my britches, all I've got on is leather. Whatever you got couldn't be worse, unless it's not my size and it's girly clothes." If that's the case, no way. "I'll try and get these washed, they're useful, but.. I don't see much need for 'em in this heat. And trust me, I don't plan on givin' anyone trouble. Like I said before, I didn't /intend/ for anything to go wrong before. She lied, I got the blame for it. Besides, if I like it here, why would I do stuff to get dragons sent after me?" He chuckles a little more at her, especially her 'Damn right', remarking something about "Fierce Fyrce" before there's a pebble. "AGGH!" is the man's genuine yelp as he lunges almost completely under the table. "Put it away, you're gonna poke out my EYE if you aren't careful!" He'd not like to find out if she would or not. Really.
Xaleres tacks on somewhere at the beginning of that that he didn't exactly say nice things to the dolphins, but he didn't realize they understood him. Cough cough.

"They aren't all dresses." Dryssa says with a very bright smile. "I mean, some of them might be a bit oversized. The last man I designed for was this big bulky smithcrafter… Oooh! But I have a pair of delightful pink shorts which should fit you just fine!" Oh dear. "And I think there's a shirt with big poofy sleeves that goes along with it. Yes, yes, you can borrow that until you earn some money." As if there wasn't enough incentive to begin with. Dryssa grins from ear to ear. "Aren't you glad you ran into me?"

Nikolar makes a few more notes on his pad before sliding it away. He turns to regard Fyra. "Saynth. Your mother's dragon?" He blinks as Xaleres dives out of the way of a possible slingshot attack, then peers at him. Finally he gets to his feet and looks around. "Bye." That's the only explanation he gives before shuffling exit-wards. He doesn't seem to be in a particular hurry just… decided to leave.

Fyra watches Nikolar write more on that pad of him, suddenly pressing her lips together in thought. "Y-yah… You know, I bet /I/ can get good marks for this." She turns to the others as if for confirmation. So she's tight-lipped for the rest of the time as far as her life goes. His departure is only noted with a nod as she lifts her slingshot again. "/Seriously/, I'm not going hit you." Though her smirk does say 'yet'. She pulls back on her slingshot with the pebble and swings her arm around to a nearby table where a mug was left. With a THWAK! it's perfect aim and sends the mug toppling over, only to have klah spill out everywhere. "Shells!" she squeaks, giggles at the drudges that pause to glare, and then it's her turn to dive under the table.

Xaleres, surprisingly enough, actually looks releaved; although, he's still practically peeking from out under the table. "Well, I'll take the pink shorts. Nothing like a bit of feminine color to show off how manly I am!" Flex. "The poofy shirt, though.. Pry not. Let me take a look at this stuff you made for a smith-crafter, might have a shirt that'll work. Big usually means comfy." Could it be, this guy actually doesn't care what he looks like? "Wait, bye, wait what?" Xale's gaze slowly peeks over the edge. "Jeez, people are just leavin' all over the place! Must be gettin' late. He was weird, though. Wonder what else he's got written in that little thing." By now, he has forgiven the arrival of the slingshot, and is peeking up above deck; though, he still is sorta sheltering his head from a possible trap. But, there goes the mug, and he just starts to laugh. "Good aim, wrong mug! That is, though, insanely terrifying. Please tell me you can only kill bugs with that." Gulp.

Dryssa watches Fyra's little display of hunting skill and her subsequent ducking under the table with amusement. "What a waste of klah. Good thing I just spotted a fresh pot being put on… maybe if you get some it'll help steady your hands?" Says the super-jittery girl. She arches an eyebrow slightly at Xaleres. "I did design the poofy-armed shirt for the smithcrafter. Though for some reason, he didn't buy it." Who would imagine why? "I'll get you those shorts, though. After you clean up, anyways. Don't want them smelling like seawater."

Fyra peeks out herself from under the table with a sheepish smirk at those that are now having to clean up her mess. She slips the slingshot back in place in her back pocket. "Oh, I wouldn't drink klah if I had to go on a hunt. Wouldn't steady me… well, a little would keep me aware, but not too much," she says to Dryssa's suggestion. She beams at Xaleres's compliment. "Been training before I could walk properly, 'course I'd have good aim. And 'snakes go down easily if you hit them just right with a big enough pebble. Easily to hunt them, too, instead of a snare, as well as other little things." She chuckles as she finds her seat again, though she makes sure to stay low for a little while. "And pink would totaly be your color," she teases with a grin.

"Well," Xaleres says, stroking his jaw. "I guess I was about to take a bath before I realized I lost my marks." Explains why his belt-buckle is undone! "Well, if you just.. took the sleeves off completely, I'd probably manage in it fine. It's too hot here for it, anyways. I'm used to Bitran weather, and if this is supposed to be Western's winter season, I can't imagine what summer's like." Listening to Fierce Fyra's recounted tail of training, he continues to smirk, but at the end simply comments: "Well, just don't go practicin' on me, and I'll be greatful." Someone's a wee bit of a coward. "Though, once I get some marks back, a trusty little sniper like you might be useful." Devvvious, yes, devious! "You think so? I almost thought it'd wash out the color in my face." You know, the color that doesn't exist. "I actually don't mind. It's a conversation starter. 'Heeeey, ladies, how do you like my shorts?'" Pose.
tail/tale

"But… but I worked so hard on those sleeves." Dryssa says with a bit of a pout. "They'll be the height of fashion around here, I'm sure of it! You could be a trendsetter. What's wrong with that?" She looks impressed by Fyra's recounting of her training, but some confusion creeps in midway through. "Why hunt snakes? They aren't really good for eating, are they? I guess I've never really tried." Back to confusion at Xaleres. "What would you need a sniper for? Anyways, I've got the shorts with my stuff, conveniently enough."

Fyra reaches out to pick at a few splinters from the table as she tries her best to look inconspicuous. "I'd prefer the weather here than the winters up in Telgar," she randomly puts in as well wit a shrug. Her blue eyes lift back to the older boy, smirking mischievously. "Well… it depends on what I'd have to practice for. I can't make any promises." She snickers as well. "But for the marks I'd be happy to be hired." She glances back towards the mess she made, happy that she wasn't going to get reamed for it. "Well, is it a light pink? It would wash out your color that way. Anything darker?" This is said mostly towards Dryssa curiously. "You can give him a nice blue to make his eyes stand out, too. But pinks work." She chuckles at the older teen, head bobbing. "Oh, they taste /great/ with the right marinade. And sometimes that's all we catch outdoors."

Xaleres nods. "Well, I won't trouble you to take 'em off then. I'll just.. go shirtless! Really though, sleeves would just make me feel hotter than I already do. I could use an even tan, anyways." Or, an even burn. "Sorry girl, but I'm not quite popular enough yet to be a trendsetter. Maybe later on." Excuses. He does give her a friendly wink, and seems very excited about the shorts. "Oh, who knows. There's no point in having skills like that if you can't cause a bit of trouble with it. And I'm not a waster! See, I'm using your skills to get me shorts, and maybe help me get a flashy bandana scarf if I can pay with my services." Insert eyebrow waggle. "Well, I think she only HAS pink. I don't care what shade, though. I'm just sick o'wearing these sea-drenched leathers. And, I'd tell you what I needed once I need it, don't worry. Not that I have any CLUE what that'd be. But I just watched you wipe out a klah mug over like, half a living-caverns distance. That's gotta be usefully socially SOMEHOW, right?" Like flinging nut-shells at the back of Ashkaldyn's head.
I don't know which one you mean!

Dryssa grins and nods to Fyra. "Yeah, a baby blue color would be perfect! But unfortunately, all I've got right now is the pink… I could do that next. Oh, wait, I already promised that other woman I'd make her a bikini next. So I guess it'll have to wait just a little while." She looks over at Xaleres and grins. "I'm still going to make you work it off if you want to keep anything! I have a sculpture project I could use help with. Do you think you can lift about two hundred pounds of metal?" Uh-oh.

A cool gust of wind silently seeps throught he living caverns, and soon the sound of boots can be heard as a leather-clad rider makes his way into the caverns. A hand idly lifts up, undoing the riding helmet from his head. Once the fasteners come off, curly brown hair is released and immidiately falls in front of his eyes. This, of course, annoys the Istan rider and he quickly flicks his fingers at his hair. "No, you won't fit." A'tien says no one into particular, but if the viewers got a good look, they might see a bronze muzzle trying to stick its way in. "Istan's duties to Western and her queens." A'tien lists off dutifully, his eyes wandering about the caverns absently as he pulls off his gloves. Once the gloves are off, they might note that they're spotty and covered with different colored dye.

Fyra nods to Dryssa. "Pink it is," she says as she glances between the two of them. "I wouldn't know if his services are worth the clothing," she says, leaning towards the older girl. "Well, whenever you actually have the marks and the target, just let me know. I'm your girl for that, but I also ask for favors in return. Not jus' money… Cause you never know when you'd need a pink-clad boy… " Probably as a running target practice, by the looks of her smirk. The new arrival gets a look, though she jumps as she glances past him towards some pointing drudges. "I think I hear the runners calling for me 'gain," she mumbles to her two companions as she bobs her head to them. "Nice meeting the two of you, Dryssa, an' uh…" she blinks to Xaleres, not able to get a name to his face. Instead, she just waves and scampers out before they could force her into some chores for the mess.

Xaleres blinks. "Um.. well. I can wait. No rush, honestly, I was wearing black from head to toe before, do you think I'm one to care if I wear a little pink in a place I've never been before?" Might actually serve as a good disguise. ".. All at once? Uh.. No. That's more than /I/ weight. I could make a makeshift crane, though.. Or uh… Er.. Yeah. I'd help. S'long as I get what I ask for in return." Wink-a-wink. "I just mean the clothes, honest!" .. Wink-a-wink. And then, there is a BRONZE HEAD trying to PEEK THROUGH. He came in here to HIDE from the dragons — at least, avoid their weird gazes — and he doesn't want the roof toppling down. The only thing that could make matters worse is the rider announcing he's from Ista; after that, Xale's eyes grow wide, his jaw drops, and the only noise that comes out is "Oh mommy." Fyra's exit gets a strange wave, and a mumble that could be deciphered as 'okay, yeah, uhhuh' but it rather just sounds like a big croak. He seriously has no idea what he just agreed to, either.

"Nice meeting you, too!" Dryssa says enthusiastically to Fyra. "Such nice people here. I have a feeling this is going to be a good trip!" She hops up from her seat and gives Xaleres a smile. "Well, I'd better go get you those shorts. You're liable to get a rash if you stay in those soaked things for much longer. I'll come find you soon!" She skips out toward the entrance, tossing a salute to the rider and dragon as she passes.

A'tien blinks when suddenly everyone is leaving. He tentively sniffs at the air, then wrinkles his nose, "Was it something I said?" He asks to no one in particular, now looking quite upset with himself. "I think you're upsetting the lad. Just go wait patiently." He rolls his eyes at the overprotective bronze. "Sorry, he worries. Are…you all right? You don't look well."

Xaleres eyes the bronze veeerrrry warily — or at least, the bronze's snout — quiet frozen in his chair… And now utterly alone. "Those girls are so gonna get it," he finally mutters, before waving a very reluctant hand in greeting towards the rider. "Uh.. Hi. No.. No you're fine, said everything fine, you're JUST FINE." Let's just stress that in caps. "Oh, I'm okay. Just.. startled." And mortified that he could be here LOOKING for him. Unlikely, since there's no way anyone would know he's here only two days after he left Ista, but… The boy still gulps, before finally shaking off a bit of is fear. "Sorry sir, I just.. Don't.. Meet.. riders often. Specially bronzeriders. Erm. Yeah. So. Uh. What. Uh. Brings you to. Uh. Western?" Smile?

A'tien finally lifts up his dappled hands, sniffing quietly at his palms before turning his nose up in disgust. Deciding that this is why everyone suddenly dissapeared and now there's a…quivering boy before him. Yes, must be it. He's certainly not a scary bronzerider…right? A'tien puts on his warmest smile, even offering a bow to Xaleres, "Well, maybe I just startled people eh? Don't mind Cereth, he's not going to hurt you or anything. He's big but he's really quite friendly." Really! "You don't meet riders often? Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking? I was born and raised at the Tannercraft hall." His eyes go distant for a moment or two, as if remembering. "I never thought I'd be a dragonrider, it never entered my mind. Let alone a /bronze/. I still wonder what Cereth sees in me. But, forgive my manners. I'm A'tien, Cereth's rider. Well met!"

"Uuuuh, I'm from—" Quick, where?! "Paradise Hold. In the South. You know. /South/." Not to be confused with north, west, or especially, east. "Oh, I didn't think he'd hurt me or anything, I'm just more afraid about the roof." He points upwards. "From what I saw, though, yes, he looked.. Very.. Friendly." Shiftyeye. "Oh, I'm sure most people never really expect it. My mom wa- I mean, she really wanted to be a rider. I think my dad was. Never was too sure on that." Ergh, can't, stop, LYING. "A'tien, er, well met! I'm, um-" Oh, come ON now, Xale, he looks like he's too nice to be sent here on a mission of conquest! "I'm Xaleres, and actually, I'm from Bitra and my mom's a Benden greenrider but YOU DON'T KNOW THAT." Twitch. "Sorry. Uh. It's been a rough day. You can go ahead and sit, I think I'm done spazzing out." Maybe, maybe not.

A'tien will simply stare at the boy as if he had some sort of disease that the bronzerider is afraid of catching. He backs away slowly, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his head. "Err…right." He says quietly, shifting from foot to foot in a nervous manner. Now /he/ is nervous and uncomfortable. "Xaleres? Err…nice to meet you. I should be going before Cereth does break down the roof…or something…"

Oh no. He WAS here looking for him! (Or at least, now Xale THINKS that.) "Wait! No! Don't go! I didn't mean to scare you, I'm just, it's been, THROWN OVERBOARD, er, er…" Whimper. Xaleres doesn't even bother. He collapses, slams his elbows down on the table, and buries his face in his hands. "I really need a drink." Even though you just made a vow of soberity an hour ago. Priceless.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License