Trouble, thy name is Liora

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.

Being fashionably late for breakfast is one thing, being just too plain lazy to get up early enough in the morning to eat when the food is freshly made and piping hot is something else entirely. And in the case of one particular goldrider, being plain lazy is her modus operandi. Or she's just too dim-witted to care. But here she is, sitting where she absolutely shouldn't be — the Weyrwoman's chair, of all places — trying to flag down a server, and complaining with a nasally whine. "Don't you people know who I am? Someone bring me hot food here." But alas, maybe Liora should have tried getting up earlier before all the hot sticky buns had been eaten and the porridge wasn't served up leaving her with a lukewarm bowl of lumpy sludge.

Naeda has an excuse for getting up late! After all, it's not safe to swim with the dolphins before it's light out. That's her story, and she's sticking to it. Once again, she is left with a tray of food, a mug of klah, and nowhere to sit. The most obvious choice, of course, are those free seats by the goldrider. But that just has trouble written all over it. She frowns and hesitates.

Trouble, thy name is Liora. It's also disaster and fear and headache and worry, but that's part of the game when dealing with the least-liked weyrwoman in Western. And by the looks of things, the woman's making wonderful strides to make sure she's even more disliked as she knocks her elbow against the bowl of disappointing porridge and sends it teetering towards the edge of the table. It hangs there, seconds, and then clatters over the edge. "I wouldn't eat this slop anyway," she declares. Pouting terribly, the woman catches sight of Naeda, that hesitation and frown making Liora squint at her in thought. "You. Hey you," the words would probably sound more imperious if the goldrider wasn't sounding like a petulant child, "get me some klah would you. Nice hot stuff, and add lots of sweetener." She reaches up to fluff at her hair. "And then I /suppose/ you could bask in my presence. There's a few empty chairs here." Gee, wonder why?

Naeda keeps getting herself into these situations. She should've hidden while she still could. Now, it's too late. "Y… yes ma'am." She replies, hurrying over to the nearest serving table to pour sweetener into what was supposed to be her klah. So much for that. Back to Liora, she carefully sets the mug in front of her. "… Here you go." She tries not to sound too terrified.

Liora favors Naeda with a look akin to beauteous benevolence. Finally! She's getting some respect. "Oh why thank you dear," the woman's whiny tone changes to a far too-sweet coo as she reaches out to take the mug of klah and gulp it back in a rather unladylike swig. "I am so so thankful for it. Everyone else around here," her hand flutters dismissively, "just don't know how they should be treating me, you know. I am a very important person." Liora simpers — which unfortunately makes her look like a chipmunk with buck teeth — and flutters her fingers at the nearest chair. "Would you like to sit down. It's not every day you get to have breakfast with a Weyrwoman you know." Oooook, except Liora isn't even wearing a knot, and there's a rather sad looking bowl of lumpy porridge oozing out onto the floor by the chair.

There's really no escaping this. Naeda may ponder it for a moment, but no socially acceptable way of fleeing the encounter pops into her mind immediately. And so, she is stuck. "… Yes, ma'am." She replies, cautious, setting her tray of food down at one of the available seats and settling in to enjoy her now sadly klah-free breakfast.

All of this politeness and deference is sure to go to Liora's head, crowding out what little sense is left there. "Oh how delightful!" Liora gulps down another mouthful of klah, setting the mug down and clapping her hands giddily. "I do so love company. Just think, you'll be able to tell your friends you had breakfast with Senior Weyrwoman Liora. I'm sure they'll be so impressed." More likely not, poor Naeda for having to put up with this because clearly the Weyr's least-liked goldrider is off her rocker. "What's your name, dearie?"

So much danger here. Naeda's dreams of a nice, peaceful, relaxing breakfast have gone and flown out the window. She'll just have to go with the flow as best as she can. "Naeda, ma'am." She responds with obvious nerves, picking at her meal with tiny little bites.

Liora puffs her cheeks out into a breathy little smile, hands held — fingertips together — against her breast as she giggles and simpers her way through breakfast with Naeda, and ruins all those dreams and hopes of quiet non-dangerous breakfast plans simply by being her normal clueless self. But still, introducing herself as the senior weyrwoman? Is she nuts? "Oh, what a nice name," she bubbles out the words, sugary-sweet tone as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "I haven't seen you before, are you new? Have you met anyone interesting?"

Naeda certainly isn't going to correct her. She likely doesn't know any better. She's still very much out of the loop on things here. "Actually, I grew up here, ma'am." She answers. "But I've been away for several turns, ever since I apprenticed. I was only posted here again last month." She answers between little bites of her sadly dangerous breakfast.

"Oh," Liora sounds like an absolutely totally complete airhead when she says that, and she does sort of look the part with her mouth gaping open, she might catch a VTOL or two in the process. "I … see." Which means the goldrider probably /doesn't/ see. And it's just as well that Naeda isn't going to try and correct her on her introduction, itmight make Liora more flustered and foolish than she already is. "I don't get out much." she says at last. "They didn't let me. But all that's going to change, you mark my words."

Naeda knows better than to offer any sort of opinion on the possible goldrider's ranting and raving. "I see." She responds in the most noncommital tone she can possibly muster, mirroring the response she herself got. She keeps her eyes on her plate for a moment.

Smart move! Except maybe Liora feels the need to expound on her comments, seeing as she's gotten what seems to be the short end of the breakfast stick this morning, and maybe that was the final straw or something. "I'm really glad you see," she gushes at the younger girl, completely oblivious to the fact that Naeda seems to be having a staring contest with the china. "They're sterile, you know. Miraneith and Shadhavarth. Haven't risen for a long time. But Orraeloth did, my brilliant brilliant girl, and we were the only ones here," she giggles, almost wiggling in her chair at the very thought. "And it's our time to shine, and I'll ship them off to Ierne WeyrHold like they tried to do with me." Has someone got a chip on her shoulder? "I hope I can count people to help me?" Ooook, are those alarm bells going off or what?

Alarm bells have been going off for a while. Maybe Naeda thinks that if she can't see Liora, Liora can't see her. Or she just finds the dwindling remains of her breakfast to be so completely fascinating. "Uhm. Well. I'm sure… I mean, people around here are so friendly. I'm sure people will want to help you." That's neutral and noncommital enough, right?

Liora makes a sound that's probably like a titter, because it's not quite hearty enough to be a laugh, and a little too noisy to be say … gas? "Oh good," she says. "I hope I can find lots of people to help me. It's very important you see, and if those stupid servers are anyone to go by, they're going to mess /everything/ up." The goldrider pouts again, still not having twigged on to the fact that Naeda isn't meeting her eyes, but that's perfectly all right because Liora isn't the sharpest crayon in the box to begin with.

Naeda is beginning to get that hint. The need for escape becomes more powerful, even as the opportunities for it seem slimmer and slimmer. She twirls one remaining morsel around her fork, scraping it against the plate. "Well, uhm… I hope you find some people who… are better capable of helping you."

"I certainly hope so," there's a rather bubbly humor to Liora's tone as she shifts around in her seat, hands twitching a little as she fixes the young girl with a glazed regard. Sure, if Naeda doesn't want to look at her, then Liora will just /stare/. That's awkward maybe. And uncomfortable. And might increase the need for flight to safety, no doubt. Run away, run away while you can! "I really really hope I do," the goldrider murmurs. "I probably should go give that cook a piece of my mind. I'm the Senior Weyrwoman. I should get better food." Except she isn't /really/ the senior weyrwoman, and she'd have gotten better food if she had gotten up earlier.
Of course. Naeda finally risks glancing up, only to find the weyrwoman staring at her. That's decidedly unnerving. Eyes go back on the plate, which is now quite bare. "Uhm… good luck?" She offers with great uncertainty, fidgeting in her seat.

It's rather like being stared at by a zombie or a deer in the headlights. There's just dull blankness there, it almost makes one wonder how Liora would even plan to pull off a coup if she could or if she's just living in a la-la land fantasy. It's most likely the latter. "Oh thank you," Liora replies, that giddy little tone of voice almost too scary to comprehend that someone /could/ talk like that. Ditzy, perhaps? "I think I'll go do that right now." The chair scrapes as she stands up, pats the cushions as if reassuring herself that it's really her chair (it's not, dream on!) and wiggles her fingers at Naeda. "You'll clean up that mess, yes," a flicker of a hand at the porridge bowl on the floor and the empty klah cup as /if/ it's only a matter of record that the Dolphincrafter would, no questions asked. "Thank you dearie." And off she'll mince, tottering in the direction of the kitchens.

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