Someone pull out a ruler!

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.

The afternoon is crawling by in Western, the majority of the weyr has departed the living caverns to return to work and other responsibilities that require their attentions. One such resident has been fortunate to find a break from his work now and he shuffles heavily over to a table nearest the hearth. With a sigh, he carefully places his leather bag on the floor, at his feet, before settling down in his chair with a drowsy and vacant appearance on his features. He merely stares out, mouth partially opened with his gaze out in space and a little glistening orb at the corner of his lips indicates the presense of drool there. Sleepy trader is sleepy. He yawns, raising his arms over his head in a long and lazy stretch before deflating in his chair and sending those hazel eyes down to his mug of klah. It's there, steaming, giving off the life giving aroma that he should crave but those tired eyes are slowly drifting shut and his head lowering, shielded by discheveled dirty blond strands.

K'yr just finished a delivery off at somewhere cold. Oh right, that one weyr. High Reaches. That was what it was called. And not a moment too soon! The teen could already feel his dragon's mentality slowly shifting and her subtle flirts with the opposite gender had not gone unnoticed by the greenriding teen. A soft sigh falls away from his lips as he makes his way over to the klah pot and pours himself his own cup. While he used to hate the stuff, it's been an acquired taste that's become a necessity over the turns since he impressed his Maraeth. He plops himself down, not too far from Sororn and glances over at the young man. "You okay over there? You know there are probably better places to sleep than here." He mentions offhandedly with a small smile.

The question is probably: What /does/ a journeyman Harper do when there are hardly enough people in the living caverns (or in any one specific area, really) to conjure up a crowd and serenade the masses? The answer? The exact opposite of whatever it is that A'shur is doing. Sororn might be trying not to pass out in a chair, but Ash is occupying a completely different area of the caverns hunched over something. There! A peek! A needle attached to string, pulled before it disappears again into whatever it is that has the older man clamping his teeth about the tip of a wet tongue and looking, for all the world, as if he's working quite /hard/ on a masterpiece. WHATEVER COULD IT BE?! It's K'yr's voice that has A'shur stopping all movement altogether, completely still for a moment before slowly (and we are talking creeper slow), Ash is shifting in his seat and peeking out at the greenrider from over his shoulder. STARE.

At the voice, Sororn slowly tilts his head up and peers, oblivious to the little trickle of drool that is running down the corner of his mouth. With a start, he perks up, hazel eyes wide and he glances down at his mug which he takes up and takes a long drink. The trader clears his throat, offering a nervous chuckle before letting those shoulders slump once more. "Eh, I've been up too late and running around too much during the day. Still much to do, otherwise I'd just go back to… bed?" The bronzerider is peered at, curiously. Not that, 'who is he' curiosity but a 'What is he DOING SCARY RIDER TYPE!?. The trader blinks, shaking his head and peering down at his mug once more. It's a safer thing to observe. Yes, pretty little stone mug with all the natural little swirlies that came from the minerals within the material. Oh look, there's something shiny! Siiiiiiip.

K'yr gets that feeling. You know the one, where it feels as if someone's eyeballs are burrowing into to back of your head? Yup. /That/ feeling. Although honestly it has no effect on him because it's kind of a feeling he feels rather often lately. He's getting stalked! Nuuu. Really the teen is completely oblivious. A'shur? There is no A'shur! "Oh, I guess that's a good reason not to go find a bed. But maybe you should um.. go take a nap? The living cavern isn't exactly that comfortable. Surely your work can wait an hour or so." Right? Right?

It's just before A'shur gains his feet that Sororn is finally acknowledged with a silent look. Oooh yes. Sororn gets a /look/ alright. And that look? It's about as far from friendly as unfriendly and hostile can possibly get. You see that threaded needle in his hand? Don't put it past him to shank you in the eyeball. His glowering ends the moment eyes are back on the greenrider again, and instead of poorly veiled anger, there's a simplistic vacancy. He actually /stumbles/ when he rises, and that's when the monstrosity he was working on so diligently can be seen by the entirety of the caverns. It's a small and poorly constructed stuffed dragon… thing. The eyes? Crooked. One, in fact, looks as if a small animale might have chewed it off, and there's plenty of knotted thread behind it to keep it from ever looking semily decent again. Wings are deformed, a head too small and undefined - okay, so let's be honest. It was /supposed/ to be a dragon, but whatever that is that A'shur is holding is definitely not a dragon. Stride, stride, stride, and he's in front of K'yr, catching the greenrider's hand with one of his own before suddenly abashed eyes go to his gift of horror. And then? He thrusts it into the younger man's free hand. "Here," he says, in that voice that's much too husky and refined to suit anything about the disaster he seeminly presents. And then? That creeper-over-the-shoulder-look that he was fixing on K'yr earlier? Totally on you, Sororn. A SILENT CHALLENGE. You can never have his precious!

Sororn can't help to watch the exchange between the riders, eyes wide behind that mug he hides behind. Never mind A'shur's precious, he's clutching his own precious rather possessively. Caffiene. Another loud and clearly audible slurp is taken from the hot and sweetness thats in his mug. This is a better companion to be sought out, it doesn't give creepy stares or make little bundles of rags into monstrosities that will likely devour it's recipient in his sleep, rending him into A BLOODY HORRO- Ahem. The trader quickly rises and moves to take another refill of his mug before settling down only now he adds the leather bag to the contents on the tables surface. He pulls out a small metallic tin, slowly prying open the lid before sending those hazel eyes over to the bluerider and here, upon the young man's features is a smile that can only be considered sinister. He reaches in, eyes glancing around the room thoughtfully as he lets his fingertips search for an item, something, anything that could pry him away from his own precious long enough to acknowledge it's existance. He's a trader, it could be anything…

Aww, isn't Ash so sweet? K'yr thinks so. See how his green eyes light up and he gingerly takes the horribly deformed stuff toy and hugs it to him like a child would do. Yup. "Oh, A'shur, it's really cute!" Cute? The thing got rolled over by the ugly bus, then the train, and finally got sat on by an ugly dragon. But seriously the greenrider doesn't have one ounce of insincerity in his voice or in his wide shining eyes. Nope. "Thank you!" The greenie places his own mug of klah down before bouncing out of his chair and throwing his arms around the bluerider, giving him a quick hug before flopping back into his chair. Uh oh. That was /definitely/ proddiness seeping in. And that at least is something that K'yr is semi-aware of, and his cheeks start to flush pink and then red. Oh dear. As for Sororn and A'shur's lil man on man squabble, he's pretty oblivious to the heated stares. See. Oblivious greenie! Although that metallic tin that Sororn pulls out is eyed with a curious glance. So what is it? Oh oh, K'yr knows. It's a flower right? One that's pretty and smells nice too. Right?

"Cute?" A'shur looks back to K'yr in just enough time to catch him with one arm and hold the younger man against his own body. What's that? You thought it was going to be a quick hug? You thought you were going to be able to sit down again after? Silly, silly K'yr. You are now a hostage. A'shur holds on to the greenrider just long enough for the length of the hug to be somewhere between awkward and 'This isn't happening.' When he lets go, however, he's turning back to look at Sororn and his suspicious tin of what the bluerider suspects to be some kind of love potion. ARE YOU HERE FOR HIS GREENIE? He will not stand for it! On account of the fact that Ash has never respected anybody's personal space at any point in his life, ever, he goes striding over to Sor instead and STARES down at the offending tin, needle in hand ready to destroy whatever foe may come lurking from those cavernous depths. Green eyes flicker from tin, to trader, and back again, over and over in anticipation. Bring it on, smallfry! He's got your number!

No, no, it isn't a flower. Something else, something more absolute and won't die or decay like something so frail as a pretty scented weed. Oh no, something more humble. Out of the jar his hand emerges and there's something glistening within it but he doesn't openly display the precious bauble he holds in his grasp. He peers at it for a moment while reaching with his other hand towards his mug, bringing it to his lips as though his little trinket will vanish if he pulls his gaze away for one moment. Sororn burps quietly at the table, clearing his throat before he begins to pull out a roll of silvery cord as well as a little leather roll from the bag. The roll is opened, and a variety of knives and pliers rest comfortably in their own respective pouches for easy access. The trader licks his lips, pulling out a length of cord before he positions his hand over the end of the thread and pauses. He blinks soft hazel eyes behind those golden lashes in confusion before his gaze slowly glides up to the bluerider standing here before him. With that needle… Well, such a puny needle yet the bluerider must be overcompensating for something! Sororn merely smiles a bright and cheerful grin towards A'shur as he reaches into that roll and pulls out a pin as long as his own hand with a beveled tip. That beveled tip is special, you see, for it contains many small teeth to grind holes into small objects, making them easier to run various cords and other materials through. As soon as the trinket is slid down the cord, a small bit of red sea glass glides down until it hits the table with a little clink on the surface. The piece is shaped carefully, in the shape of a little egg, frosted yet brilliant in the flickering light of the hearth. "Is there something I can help you with, bluerider?" he chimes happily, taking an unfinished piece of white frosted sea glass and digging into it with the beveled tool, twisting his hand until the sound of the material grates upon the ears.

Instead of escaping, K'yr just tugs gently trying to get away before giving up until A'shur is ready to relinquish him. Oh well. It isn't terribly awkward for Ky though all things considered. Although once he's free he does plop back down into his spot and hug the deformity to him again. Awwww. "Yes, it's very cute." Let's just hope it wasn't supposed to be Maraeth and is just a random thing. She might try and make a voodoo doll of A'shur or perhaps Sirrushuth so that the blue will never be catching her again anytime soon! As for the giant needle that Sororn pulls out, his eyes go a bit wide and his gaze flickers between the two and their.. 'who's got the bigger poker' contest. Well looks like Sororn has won this round. "That's a pretty bead." Is finally said as he points a finger at the red sea glass. "Where'd you get it? Could make an interesting necklace with lots of those. I used to see some pretty rocks along the beach in my old cothold. I always thought some of them would make interesting decoration but Dad never really let me do much besides fish." With HUGE 'needles'. He'd win that contest. Oh yeah.

CLEVER, Sororn. /Clever/, but not nearly clever enough. A'shur knows a threat when he sees one, and he sees through the pretense of working on your frosted egg-shaped sea glass straight to the murder plot underneath it all! Actually, the harper is considerably fascinated by the project Sororn presents, but his curiosity is cut to a shy length of time when a pretty little lass approaches the man with a shy smile and a small pack of… other /people/ alongside her. "A'shur, right? We were wondering if we might convince you to sing for us. We wanted out friend to hear." There's a twist of features, the kind of look that seems to say Ash doesn't want to do it, but duties, duties… "Alright," he murmurs, and he gives a forlorn look first to Sororn, and then to K'yr as he's caught by the elbow and dragged off to a separate corner of the caverns. It's here that he will sing in that richly husky tenor; a complete contradiction of what one might expect upon first glance - and upon getting to know the man's personality. Still, he's been blessed with a voice that seems to easily convey the emotions he never does otherwise, and it's a very, very beautiful thing!

<Scene cut due to tired people iRL>

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