Half Moon Bay And The Deathly Hallows

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Living Cavern
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.

SO. It's probably not the best place to be, but Ila'den is in the Living Caverns, with the kind of look on his face that screams DANGER, DANGER and maybe has a couple of signs strung about that warn of landmines, and imminent death, and - okay, so he's just getting some Klah. He's getting Klah, he's dressed head to toe in his leathers, and the redness about his eye means he's either three sheets to the wind already (he's not), or somebody didn't sleep (at all) last night. Fortunately it's the latter, because Ila'den still has his pants on, and he's decidedly not looking at dragons (or R'hyn, as it were) and telling people that he's gonna ride that. SO KLAH, and he's got a plate full of food as well, all of which he holds as the man finds a table and settles himself in it.

Ila'den's wearing pants? More's the pity, really - no-pants Ila is one of R'hyn's favorite Ilas - but one supposes there's a time and place for everything; namely, time enough for the bronzerider in question to scoop up a quick breakfast, and place enough for him to squeeze in next to Ila'den, not looking even vaguely apologetic for whomever he inconveniences on his other side. Someone might have slept through the night in this damn weyr, but it sure as shells wasn't R'hyn, either - dark tunnelcat markings scoop low under both eyes, cheek dropping heavily onto his fits to prop his head up as he pushes food around his plate. "Faranth. All I can see when I look at food is the tiny bits of sea creature splattered all over the beach," he comments with a nose wrinkle, letting his fork clatter to focus on klah instead. He can totally run the whole day on caffeine and cussedness, just watch him.

S'van was already at this table, ILA AND R'HYN! It was his table until two more showed up to claim it. And maybe he would have slept through the night in his damn weyr, if he HAD a damn weyr. But he does not. Because he is a weyrling, and he lives in the barracks. So he did not get sleep either because he does not sleep in crowded spaces. SO MUCH NOT-SLEEPING around here. There's a flick of his gaze for both rider's, a little, almost inaudible "Sir" for R'hyn and maybe a salute. Because he's been getting scolded for not-saluting lately. But while R'hyn might see splattered sea creature when he looks at his food, the weyrling does not apparently have this problem. His plate is piled high, and he is working through it at a furious rate. Maybe hoping he won't be noticed. Yes. 6'5" of invisible weyrling, right here.

Tani? She's practically skipping back to the table for what might be thirds or fourths. Two plates stacked on her arm and overloaded with enough food to feed a small army. Someone did sleep well last night. If only because the healers drugged her into it, yay drugs! "We'll have crabs for months! Give it a few days. You will see. Boats will start bringing in epic hauls." Maybe she's still drugged, or her own personal ray of sunshine one. The idea of millions of delicious crustaceans fills her with such joy. FEIRCE JOY.

You would think that Ila'den might offer some sympathy or spare kind words for his weyrmate, but this is Ila'den, and Ila'den is neither of those things - sympathetic or kind. It's why he stares at R'hyn for just a moment too long, the attention of that grey eye shifting into the kind of heat that requires a different definition for explanation that is not anger, but is certainly just as intense. And it rakes, shameless and heedless of the fact that Tanit's over-the-top happy, and S'van has claimed the Invisibility Cloak form Harry Potter and is ripping it off to salute and call R'hyn sir. Ila'den leans closer to the once-bartender, his arm coming around the back of R'hyn's chair as he shifts a little closer, and drops his chin to be closer - just shy of a kiss, really - before he speaks a huskily gruff, "And the smell." And yes, there's that wolfish smile, the one that says he's up to no good and doesn't really care. "And the way it sounded when it hit the ground - everywhere - because somebody can't fucking listen." And there's a disappearance of humor as that grey eye shifts to Tanit, because she the one, on its way to S'van. The older man raises a brow at the weyrling, a silent question that doesn't remain silent for long, because Ila'den is delivering a dry, "Please tell me you don't greet him like that with regularity." And then… yeah, he's looking at Tanit again. Staring, really, as he leans out of R'hyn's space and pulls his plate along with him. He even eats some of it. Because he's a badger. "You look better."

R'hyn does not expect sympathy nor kindness - he might not even want them, really, for when it comes down to it he does pluck a piece of fruit off Ila'den's plate to devour - but instead offers both concepts himself, given the opportunity the bronzerider so readily presents. Ila'den is close, maybe too close, bringing minor, familiar details within range of a hand that lifts to trace the space between red-rimmed eyes, fingers curling so knuckles can skim from cheekbone to jaw with a look that shifts from quiet concern to playful flirtation for that over-long, overly-intense look that Ila'den tries to ruin because he's him, but really it only makes R'hyn snort and push the bronzer's face away with a muttered, "You're disgusting." And really, S'van might've gotten away with that there invisibility too, if it weren't for that darned 'Sir.' Blue-grey eyes snap right to the weyrling, sticking there, magnetic, for the passing of a moment before he sighs great big, entirely too tired keep up any semblance of responsible adult just yet. "Who got you this time?," with a wiggle of fingers at that maybe-saluting and a jolt of his form that one might give when one's kicked someone under the table. His gaze shifts with Tanit's arrival, some of the edge of exhaustion easing out of his features with recognition. "Hey, you," he says with a nod of greeting, lifting one brow at her pair of piled plates, then S'van's equally-full dish. "I'd make a comment about growing youths, but Faranth, I hope you're done." Said of the taller-than-him weyrling in particular, though amused eyes do roll back in Tanit's direction. "An infestation of crabs, you might say?," is offered, droll, before he fetches his fork and spears something eggy, swiping it away before Ila can get to it. "Won't see me complaining, though. Crab is delicious."

S'van's invisibility cloak has failed; doomed from the start because he is required to say things and salute people that wear fancy knots. Or weyrlingmaster-type knots. And although Ila'den asked a question, and R'hyn is kicking him under the table for it, the weyrling will just pretend he didn't hear a thing. Nope. There's a little flicker of his gaze between the pair of bronzeriders, a quick Ila-'Rhyn, Ila-R'hyn coupled with a little twitch of his eye but thankfully not a single smart-ass comment, before he just exhales audibly through his nose and stands. "I'm heading back. Here," and he shoves his half-eaten plate towards Tanit because sometimes… she actually eats way more than him, and letting food go to waste is a SIN of great significance. Maybe. Or he's lazy and doesn't want to take his plate to the kitchen. A nod, some semblance of respect or at least acknowledgement, for those at the table, a friendly squeeze of Tanit's shoulder, and then he's heading for the exit like it holds his salvation.

"Healers made me drink a concoction that had me dead to the world." Tanit answers Ila first, Though R'hyn gets a beaming smile and Sev a grimace of sympathy. Weyrlinghood just is no fun at all. "I just burn that much energy through the course of a day." Tani sighs, "But the food here is good at least. Yes, at least if the usual patterns follow. Huge food source, attracts a lot of creatures." Tanit doesn't seem phased by the plate left in front of her, already working on her own with alarming speed. Huh. Sev FLEES. This cannot be good.

It's a touch that has that lone grey eye closing for just a moment that threatens at the border of forever until it's gone in the face of terrible words and face pushing weyrmates and kicks UNDER THE TABLE that earn said weyrmates a look. S'van done fled, Tanit is talking, but Ila'den's watching R'hyn as the man speaks and then - yep, nope. Public be damned. "I disagree, Tanit," Ila'den says softly, without looking at the Dolphineer. "The food around here is terrible. I think I'm going to find myself something better." SHOULD HAVE RUN FASTER R'HYN. Because yeah, Ila'den's hauling his younger-but-taller Weyrmate up out of his chair and over his shoulder with a brow that goes high in complement to the ghost-of-a-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "And somebody has to keep the Weyrlingmasters in check. Enjoy your food, little bird." AND YEAH, HE IS JUST… HAULING R'HYN OUTTA THERE. BECAUSE HE'S A BASTARD. Not even sexy carry this time. So rude.

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