A Dragonhealer's Journal

No pity parties here!

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 02:41:08 GMT

Fort Weyr Living Cavern(#199RJa$)
Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize.

Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr.

To the east, a short flight of stairs leads to the hallway to the inner caverns. A stout door to the north has a healer's emblem on it, marking the Infirmary. To the south is a wide tunnel, leading out of the Weyr, and a wide opening to the west leads to the Weyr bowl.
Contents:
Tirien(#11399PVce)
Buffet Table
Meg and Peg
Fort Weyr Firelizard Perch

Tirien wipes his sleeve over his forehead, leaving yet another sweat-soot streak over his face. "No wonder I haven't been cold yet...I haven't stopped sweating since I got here!"

Seramara is harried out of the inner caverns by a loudly shrieking green fire-lizard. "Go *away*!" she yells at the creature. "I don't have any food! All the food's in here! You go get your own and leave me be!" Fortunately, the green is distracted by a bowl of mini-meatrolls left at the end of the table and wings off to investigate. Sera, for her part, gets a large meatroll for herself, and one of those cheesecake wedges, glaring balefully at the 'lizard the whole time. "If you're not done sweating, would you kill that little beast for me?" she asks Tirien. "I think Sepran managed to impress her to me when I was asleep."

Tirien watches Seramara with his free hand planted on his right hip. He shakes his head and puts his broom aside, only to pick up his soot bucket. He walks over to dump it into the appropriate receptacle. "Just feed her something and she'll quiet down," he advises. "And I'm almost certain I'm not done sweating yet. I still have to scrub this stupid hearth out."

"But she's not *mine*!" Seramara complains, guarding her dinner from possible fire-lizard encroachment with one arm. "She belongs to Sepran, and he sends her to tease me because he knows I don't like her!" That *is* something the mischief-making Candidate from Nabol would do. "If I feed her anything, she'll just keep following me around...maybe I could dump soot on her." Distraction from her troubles comes in the contemplation of Tirien's. "Is that just your chore for the day, or are you on punishment duty for something?"

Tirien hmphs, returning to his hearth with a bucket of sudsy water this time and a scrub brush. He plants himself on his hands and knees in front of the dirty object of his ire and starts to scrub it, sending soap suds flying in every direction. "It feels like a punishment," he declares, soap flying into his hair. "My punishment for being stupid enough to think being a candidate would be easy. You'd think I'd know better!"

Seramara draws her feet up onto the rungs of her chair, away from flying sooty suds. "You always have chores," she says, with the pragmatism of a 15-Turn-old who's known no other life. "At least these chores might lead to a dragon for you eventually, and not just to doing the same thing over and over forever." She's sympathetic, but definitely not offering to help. "And if you've never been a Candidate before, how would you know it would be like this?"

Tirien scrubs at a particularly dirty spot vigorously. "Because...I grew up in a weyr. I've been around Candidates my whole life. My own sister was a Candidate! I deluded myself into believing it was just one big party." He mutters, dipping his brush back into the water and bringing it out again with a huge slop of water. "No...I'll probably end up doing this forever, just because I hate it so much."

Seramara is willing to go along with whatever Tirien says and add her own idle thoughts. After all, *she* has cheesecake, not hearthstones that need to be scrubbed. "It'll be over soon. A month or less, I heard old B'raln say. And then either you'll have a dragon and be doing a whole other set of chores, or you can go home to Igen and do whatever it is you do there. Sweep sand out of everything." More perkily, she adds "And you get to touch the eggs, and ask the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader all kinds of questions! *I* don't get to do that."

Tirien snorts. "More of this, if I decide to go home. Which I haven't!" He peers over his shoulder at Seramara, soap dripping from his hair in various places. "Ask the Weyrleaders' questions? I do? Shards, I only ever see them /at/ egg touchings. It's not like I have an open invitation to their weyr or something."

Draila comes in from the bowl.
Draila has arrived.

"But they're still *there*. They pay attention to you, because one of their dragons' babies might pick you." A drudge walks by with a stack of clean dishcloths, and Seramara takes one to fling in Tirien's direction. "You get to do more than most people. So you have to do work--big deal. So does everyone!" Oh look, here comes someone to verify her wisdom. "Isn't that right, weyrwoman Draila?"

Draila enters with more stained old sheets to cover the floors near each of the hearths. The sheets are placed quietly on a nearby table before she pauses to look about then head towards the buffet table for a drink. "Hmm?" she murmurs when a question is directed her way.

Tirien takes the dishcloth in the face. He pulls it off quickly with a grumbled, "Thanks." More scrubbing and sloshing follow. "I've done so much scrubbing I can't see my fingerprints anymore..." He looks up at the sound of Draila's name and quickly stops his pity-me tirade in mid-sentence.

Seramara giggles as she hits a bulls-eye. "Then you'll have the makings of a perfect thief if you don't Impress. Never a trace you were there!" She explains the situation to Draila between bites of cheesecake. "Tirien thinks his chores are unfair and hes losing his looks by being forced to scrub sooty hearths and it's all he'll ever do for the rest of his days." That's her story, anyway. "Did the balm work all right for your hands?"

Tirien blinks as Seramara tells Draila about his tirade. His face flushes beet red. "I didn't say my chores were unfair!" he denies quickly. Then, he blinks. "My looks?" He pauses, looking down at himself for a moment. "You think I'm good looking?"

Draila ohs softly as she first gives Tirien a quick glance then nods lightly in answer to Seramara. "Very well thank you." her soft whisper follows before she adds for the Candidate with a warm smile. "We try not to ask anything of you that we ourselves wouldn't be willing to do. Each day I've made it a point to try and join in the Candidates' chores just to prove that point Tirien."

Tirien looks suitably chagrined and he ducks his head as he scrubs at the hearth beneath his hands and feet. "I know that, ma'am," he mutters apologetically. "I...guess I'm just homesick, is all."

Seramara corrects herself. "It's not that you said the chores were unfair, just that you felt like you were being punished for something. Which kind of means unfairness." She completely ignores his second question. Because if she ignores it, it was never said, and she doesn't have to answer it. Yep. "You *do*, weyrwoman," she agrees with Draila, nodding earnestly. "Even the Weyrleader went on that boar hunt with some Candidates, and he almost got shot!"

Draila pauses to pour herself a glass of juice then turns about and nods slowly. "That's understandable." She murmurs before retracing her steps back to the table with the sheets deposited on it. A twitching playful smile curves her lips as Seramara reminds her of the boar hunt. "Yes, a shame that.." Leaving one to question just what her words imply. picking up a sheet, she heads to the second hearth and spreads it out before asking Tirien, "Have you tried writing home and inviting your family to the hatching? It may help some to have family and friends visiting to look forward to."

Tirien gives Seramara another odd look, ignoring the fact that she ignore his second question. "He got 'shot'? With what?" Shaking his head, he sits back on his posterior, resting his forearms on his knees for a moment. Soap and water drip in a steady stream from his scrub brush. "I didn't have to invite them. My father told me himself they'd be here. They're proud of me, he says. Even brought me a box of dough dots because he thought I'd miss them." He smiles a bit. "Even though he ate a few of them before he brought them. Don't tell Terrilia though. She'll probably get cross at him."

Seramara happily takes on the duties of her unofficial second job, carrier of the latest news. "I wasn't there, because I'd be no good on a boar hunt except as bait. But I heard that it got really confusing because of the jungle and the boars making noise, and one of the Candidates got confused and shot at something moving in the bushes, and it was the Weyrleader! Shot him right through his sleeve!" She giggles a little at Draila, then the mention of a new pastry has her looking at Tirien with great interest. "Dough dots? All the way from Igen? Do you have any left?"

"When it comes to speaking with strangers my lips are sealed Tirien, never fear." Draila admits with a bowing of her head. "The incident gave poor Jenna such a fright, perhaps its best we not spread undue tails about it." She adds with a whisper as her head lifts to check just how close the pair of Aunties, Meg and Peg are. She kneels on the sheet and begins the tedious task of scooping out the ash and dead cinders listening quietly though rather curious herself about the dough dots.

Tirien shakes his head, a smile coming to his face nonetheless as he seems to forget about his chore for the time being. "I'm afraid I ate them all. They don't keep very long. They're these little balls of dough that get fried in oil and rolled around in sweetener." He rolls his eyes in ecstasy. "Pure pleasure, if you ask me. V'lien has a real weakness for them. He's proposed marriage to Dendra on any number of occasions, just to keep her making them for him."

"They sound really good." Seramara sounds wistful. Alas for the pastries she may never taste. "Maybe I'll hitch a ride with you to Igen sometime and try some. If this V'lien is proposing to a Baker, they must be really something. Do you think you could talk your dad into bringing some for the Hatching feast?" Not that she has ulterior motives or anything. "It would...it would be a good way to show inter-weyr good faith!"

Tirien starts to laugh. "I think we'd be lucky if any of them arrived for the feast, if you trust my dad to bring them!"

Draila reaches for a small scrub brush before asking, "Is there a possibility they could be made here Tirien? Do you know the recipe and exactly who to prepare them perhaps?" before she shimmies herself into the hearth opening and begins to scrub as the soot covered stone.

Tirien shrugs his shoulders, moving back onto his knees to restart his scrubbing task. "I'm sure they could be made here but I don't know the recipe myself. The bakers at Igen make them occasionally but my father swears Dendra is the only one who makes them right. He's a bit biased, I think." More scrubbing and soap suds go flying. "I suppose you could ask any of the bakers at Igen - they'd probably know for sure."

Seramara is undeterred. "How about your mom? Your sister? Somebody you know from Igen who's weird and doesn't like dough dots?" Dinner finished, her undying urge to be useful kicks in and she starts carrying various loose dishes toward the kitchen. She hides a grin when Tirien starts with the scrubbing again without complaint.

Tirien snorts. "My sister is weird but even she likes dough dots. But, I'll see what I can do about getting some more. She may feel sorry for me, freezing my hind end off up here, and bring me some more."

".. mmm .. " Comes from the hearth's opening as Draila's voice is lost inside it though she's still able to hear clearly. When she emerges she's covered in soot, black face head, shoulders and lap. Only the bottom of her trous and boots remain soot free. "Do try if you can. I'm sure the kitchen staff will try their best to bake some up for everyone even if they offer no match for Miss Dendra's."

Tirien offers an apologetic shrug. "I can't speak for Dendra myself, ma'am. I'm not even sure if it's her exclusive recipe. But, I'll ask. Someone at Igen has got to know the recipe."

"If they're just dough balls fried and rolled in sweetener, they can't be too hard to make," Seramara declares as she comes back from the kitchen, a small steaming teapot in one hand. "Maybe there could be a contest to see who could make them. Even if nobody can quite make them like your Dendra, everything would probably still be tasty." She slips a bag of tea in to steep, a minty fragrance coming from the little pot. "*That* should be the next Candidate chore!"

Tirien watches as Draila gets more soot on her than he has all day - and he's certainly not clean by any stretch of the imagination. "I think there's a bit more to it than that, Seramara. And I'm not much of a cook. Folks back home had this aversion to me being near anything flammable."

Draila listens again as she sniffs the air then casts a look about the cavern. "Oh that smells delightful. What blend are you using?" She softly asks Seramara before crawling to a clean corner of the sheet to try and wipe her face some.

Seramara blinks, then puts two and two and an amusing story together. "Oh, were *you* the one who scorched off someone's eyebrows with a flamethrower? I thought she was making that story up..." And maybe he doesn't like to talk about it, so she shuts right up. "It's mint and chamomile and citron, ma'am. There's plenty." She grabs two more mugs and puts them near the teapot, then grabs another clean dishcloth and offers it to Draila.

Tirien colors a bit. "Yeah...that was me." With a sigh, he gets up to change out the water in his bucket.

Draila nods her thanks over the offered cloth taking it with a flash of a white smile compared to the blackened face she has. "I'd love to try some." She murmurs then glances back across to Tirien. "Feel like taking a tea break?"

Seramara calls after Tirien rather guiltily, "But I'm sure it was an honest mistake! I'd be an absolute terror with a flamethrower!" Which is true. Sighing, she collects a bowl of sweetener and some milk and brings them over before carefully pouring the tea. "You can change the subject, and have tea." Tactfully, she has a few more dishcloths tucked next to Draila's mug.

Tirien returns with fresh water, then nods almost gratefully at Draila's suggestion. "Sounds like a fine idea to me." He offers Seramara a half-hearted smile. "I know. And I apparently am."

Draila stands, a layer of loose soot falling onto the sheet as she quickly slaps the dishcloth against her cloths then drops it as well before heading over to the table and taking a seat.

Tirien follows, oblivious to the soap still in his hair and his grimy hands and clothing. "What kind of tea is that again?"

Seramara is ever the optimist. "Well, if you get a dragon, you won't have to mess with flamethrowers ever again. And a dragon would never try and burn your eyebrows off." Probably. She eyes Draila carefully in case any soot gets into her tea, then pours Tirien a mug. "Mint and chamomile and citron. It won't keep you awake late or anything. I've been drinking it since my parents decided I couldn't have klah."

Tirien accepts the mug with a nod of thanks and sniffs it appreciatively. "Smells good," he comments. He takes a cautious sip. "Nothing keeps me awake these days. I'm usually so tired by the time I go to bed that I don't even remember hitting the cot."

Draila isn't as aware of her soot coated state as she reaches for the mug and lifts it to inhale the fragrance, a tenitive sip follows and when she sets the mug down again dark finger prints and lip marks dirty the mug's handle and rim. "Tastes as good as it smells." She murmurs with a smile. "I do hope you'll make more of this from time to time Seramara." Turning to Tirien she asks, "Has it been that hard for you? If memory serves me correctly this is the easy part. Should you impress even your nights will be constantly beset with demands for the first turn. A good nights sleep will only be a memory then."

Aceris has arrived.

Tirien grins a bit. "It's not as bad as I make it sound, ma'am. I'm just not much of a morning person. I've gotten up more times before dawn since I got here than I have my entire life."

Seramara is a morning person. She's also not going to mention this in current company. "But if it's a dragon, that makes getting up early...well, not all right, but at least a little better. Because who's going to take care of them if you don't?" She blushes cutely, ducking her head and grinning at Draila. "Glad you like it, weyrwoman."

Aceris strolls out into the caverns with a smile, a small pack slung over one shoulder as. She's in pants and a warm tunic rather than her normal skirt, and she is cheerfully making her way to get a bit of dinner.

Tirien smiles and nods. "I suppose so. I'll let you know if I manage to Impress. For right now, it's still just morning and I don't like it much."

Seramara shrugs. "It's morning. And everybody has to get up sometime." She waves to the new arrival. "We have tea, if you'd like to join us." Back to Tirien, whom she eyes thoughtfully. "So what color dragon do you want? Or are you tired of people asking you that question?"

Draila's eyes quickly cloud over and she nods as she stands, a coating of soot falling to the ground when she does. "Coming Wynith." She whispers then heads off towards the bowl.

Draila heads out of the cavernous entrance to the bowl.
Draila has left.

Tirien watches Draila depart, looking speculative for a moment. "Uh...what color? I don't /want/ any particular color. I'll just be happy to Impress."
Aceris aquires food and drink, and looks around. Tirien, speaking, gets a squint, and she moves off in his direction with a curious look, coming up to where he is and quietly listening in.

Seramara looks quite perplexed. The concept of not having a preference has never occurred to her. "Well, I mean, of course everybody wants to Impress, and having any color dragon is an honor and all that, yeah. But you have to want *something*. A really fast green, or a blue that goes with your bedsheets, or a bronze, or...something!"

Tirien simply lifts a shoulder. "My grandmother and sister Impressed green, my mother Impressed blue. My father and my grandfather Impressed bronze. They're all wonderful dragons and I really /don't/ have a preference. I don't really want to Impress gold, but I'd hope that would go without saying."

Aceris squints a bit more at Tirien, then smiles slowly. "Good evening." She offers to the pair, though her eyes stay on Tirien. "You look familier... Have you ever been to Igen? Cause I would /swear/ you resemble my best friend, and we're from there." She looks to Seramara briefly with a polite smile.

Tirien looks up and over at the new voice behind him. "I'm from Igen," he replies helpfully. "You're Aceris, right?"

Seramara makes a small face. She still doesn't quite believe he can have absolutely no real preference. "For the fairness of color spread, you should get a brown..." she murmurs. And then whatever else she was going to say is lost, because that evil little green fire-lizard is back, gleefully snatching at her hair. "Oh, Far-ANTH!--I'll be back later--sorry ma'am!" Out the door to the Residents' cavern she goes, loud squeaking following her the whole way.

Tea and sympathy. Oh, and something like a fight

Mon, 07 Aug 2006 02:57:28 GMT

You lift the hanging long enough to walk out to the cavern.

Inner Caverns(#944RJL$)
Lower than the Living Cavern above, this room is still a large, bustling place. Hearths heat some of the areas here, allowing elderly and ill residents to rest here rather than mount the steps to the Living Cavern above. Rooms open out to the storerooms, the children's areas, the private rooms of staff members and some of the residents. Laundry rooms and bathing areas down one set of stairs draw near-constant traffic throughout the day.
Two long corridors lead off of here, one to the east and one to the south, going to the 'crafter' and 'staff' hallways respectively. Noise drifts out from the curtain to the northeast that leads to the residents dorms, and a small bubble cavern to the north leads to the 'resident hallway'. A short flight of stairs to the west leads back to the Living Caverns.

Seramara comes bouncing out of the storeroom by way of the residents' dorm, carrying...well, two handsfuls of dried plants. "Left hand tea, right hand balm," she chants cheerfully. "Left hand tea for the nice scary pregnant greenrider, right hand balm for the poor goldrider...oh, hi!" This for the other girl in the cavern. "You need help finding something?"

Una chuckles as she listens to the rythem of the InfirmaryAide nearing her. "Oh, don't mind me. I was here looking for my cousin but I decided to take a detour from my delivery to check the Weyr out a little bit. It's lovely here!" She gestures around the cavern. "A lot different than a hold, that's for sure!"

Seramara nods, a few loose strands of hair waving about her face. "Oh, I know! I'm originally from Tillek, and I kept falling over my own feet when I first got here looking at everything. 'Course, I'm over that now." Sure. Right. "Have you seen the eggs yet? Those are amazing to look at, if Niyath and Soldreth feel like letting you look at them."

Andikola emerges from the Candidates' Barracks.
Andikola has arrived.

The young lady shakes her head casually. "No, I haven't really been out to look at the eggs. R'tran was telling about them though. He said Benden has a clutch right now too! I've been a bit surprised at all of the traffic going in and out of the Weyr as a result... and I've only been here a few hours!" Una casts a smile towards the people entering and exiting the cavern. "If I'm lucky, my parents will let me stay a little while longer. Or maybe they will let me come back so I can watch the hatching. I've never seen one."

"Neither have I. It's not for a few more sevendays, though, according to the aunties and the older riders who know about these things." Seramara steals a look at Meg and Peg, whose continuous whispered gossip punctuated by the click of knitting needles never abates. "The Hatching Cavern can hold half of Pern, so I bet the smaller people like us can find a seat. Andikola?" She knows most of the Candidates, mostly from watching them be scared by Soldreth during egg-touchings. "Have *you* heard when the Hatching might be?"

Andikola walks out of the candidate barracks scratching her arm absently. She's not paying very much attention to anything beyond the half healed scratch on her arm when she hears her name and looks up and around. The tiniest wince appears at the last half of her name. Darn. Her uncle must have bellowed loud enough for half Pern to hear it. "The hatching? No idea though the eggs are harder than the first time I was allowed near them."

Una draws her fingers to the back of her neck. They dissapear beneath her length of hair. "Ah, a candidate!" proclaims the ever observant youth, nodding towards Andikola's knot. "Well wishes are in order, I take it. Or just a hearty 'good luck'! I've only known one other person who stood, but I never got to hear his impression of it because he, well, impressed." Her shoulders roll off a shrug as a smile graces her lips. "If I can make it back, I'll try and find you... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she says, looking twards Seramara. "Did I even tell you mine? Goodness. I'm Una! It's nice to meet both of you!"

Seramara giggles. "Seramara," she answers Una, "but Sera to just about everybody. I help in the Infirmary, which is kind of what I should be doing right now." Sitting down at a nearby table, she sets aside her right-hand bundle of herbs and starts carefully crushing the left-hand bundle and gathering the fragments in a small cloth bag. "Well met, Una. What happened to your arm, Andi?" At least this time she got the name right.

Arm still itching, Andi tries to ignore it and shoves her hands in her pockets. With a shrug, she answer Sera first. "Scratch that's healing. I'm trying not to pick at it but it itches!" She nods to Una. "I'm Andi."

Zahava walks in from outside the room.
Zahava has arrived.

"Well met, Sera. And Andi!" The Half Circler completely missed the candidate's initial attention of her arm. An expression of curiousity falls onto her face as Andikola explains her problem. "Oh I hate that. Worst part about getting all scuffed up," Una adds as she looks down at her own hands, gently touching some faded scars on the backs of them.

Zahava comes down one of the labyrinthine corridors and steps out into the inner caverns with a baffled look on her face. She turns around once, scanning the various passages that lead off in other directions.

Seramara looks sympathetically at Andi. "At least your feet didn't get scorched with burning sand like Kiveily and Rachele. Soldreth's idea of fun is kinda dangerous." She looks over from her herbs as Zahava comes in, and manages not to giggle out loud. "Where are you looking for, Zahava ma'am?" she calls to the Istan. "I think the Weyrleader is still on the Sands with his dragon..."

Andikola's eyebrows go up. "I wear boots out there so that doesn't happen." a small frown appears "Can you wear boots at the hatching?" she wonders out loud. Sera's speaking to Zahava spins her around to look at the visitor, hands still in her pockets.

"Burning... sand?" The little brunette looks as though she's been left out of the loop. "Pardon my asking, but do either of you know Za... Oh, this is Zahava? R'tran told me I should ask her, er, you... ask you if you've seen my cousin, Gladrae. He works in the kitchens." Una's words spill forth in a flurry of verbal chaos as she attempts to keep up with the conversation.

Zahava's grey-green eyes settle on Seramara with a flicker of relieved recognition flitting into them. "Oh, I was looking for my room, actually..." she begins, but then her eyes shift to Una and her expression turns utterly confused. "R'tran?" she asks blankly. "He told you to ask /me/ something? About someone here at Fort?"

Seramara's eyes flick back and forth between Una and Zahava. Wow, more drama! How exciting! "I think you can wear sandals at the Hatching," she comments to Andokila in an undertone. "You have to be able to move quick, and boots would weigh your feet down." She points in a definite direction for Zahava's benefit, though the way she's pointing has three doors in its general vicinity. "Aren't you back there, in the fancy guest rooms?"

Una shifts her chin downward as though confused herself. "I could have sworn he told me to ask someone named Zahava... or was it Zahara... Zabrad...ra... Oh I can't remember," she concludes with a short wave of both hands. "Someone is bound to know where he is. I'll just keep asking about. It's no big deal. Besides... the longer it takes for me to find him, the longer I can say. I don't mind that!" Una glances over towards Sera and grins. "These hatchings sounds interesting. If it's burning, wouldn't boots get too hot anyway? Sandals sound better to me."

Zahava glances the way Seramara is pointing and recognition lightens her expression. "Oh, yes! You're a life saver. I swear I started from here down that passage and then came back by that one," she points first to one off to her left, and then the one she's just come out of. Then she shifts back to Una. "Someone else, I think. I'm Istan, and I don't know R'tran, so I'd be surprised if it was me he was talking about. Sorry, I can't be of more help - but if I do run into... what was the name? Gladrae? I'll let him know you're looking for him?" she offers, quite neglecting to ask the girl's name, which would rather help with that.

Seramara shakes the last of the thoroughly crumbled herbs--smells like mint mixed with something bitterish--into the little bag and starts grinding away at the other bundle of leaves and stems with a small mortar. "Gladrae? Is he...um...kind of tubby, black hair? I think I've heard the name, but I've been kinda busy. Greenrider Geia says if I don't get her this tea mix to help with her morning sickness, she's gonna feed me to Skylith." Beat, then something Una says kicks in. "You're related to a *bronzerider*?"

Andikola stands still as she listens to each of them. Her nose wrinkles though at the explanation about sandals and boots. With a sigh she finally mutters "So my feet are going to get burned, that's all there is to it. Wonderful." She hasn't acknowledged Zahava beyond turning around and seeing her nearby.

Una rests the center knucke of her curved pointer finger on her chin and lets go a, "Hmmm. That is so strange. Ah well. No need to dwell on it. I am Una, by the way," she offers. "From Half Circle Seahold. And yes, my cousin is Gladrae." A certain aroma catches the girl's attention and she casts a look over towards the infirmary aide. "What exactly is that you're working on there? Morning sickness tea?" She chuckles at the description of her relative. "That doesn't quite sound like Gladrae... A bronzerider? Shards no! I'm not related to any rider."

Zahava touches her fingers to her temple, flicking them away. "Right, names. I'm completely scattered by this unexpected move," she says with a little sigh. Though her eyes flick over Andikola, they do not dwell there, returning lack of acknowledgment in kind.

Seramara makes a rueful little face at Una. "Sorry. Like I said, I've heard the name, but there's a lot of people running around here now, like *you* said." Another small bag is produced for the by-now powdered second batch of herbs. "The first one is morning sickness tea, yeah. It tastes nasty, but it works, and Geia says if she has to spend another morning in the necessary, she's going for a hop /between/. This one's balm for burns and splinters and stuff like that. I gave some to Draila because she got splinters in her hands picking up the broken railing mess that Soldreth left, and I thought I should make more for when the Hatching happens." Grinning, she adds to Andi, "I'll save some for your feet."

Andikola's nose wrinkles, though she's smiling and she nods. "Thanks. And my feet will thank you when it's time, I'm sure." Her eyes move to Una. "There's a /lot/ of people here. I still can't remember the names of all the candidates I've met and even worked and lived with. You'll just have to keep your eyes open for a glimpse and yell for them. Him. Her. Whoever." and a hand waves up towards the living cavern.

"Move?" queries the teenager as she leans back against one of the cavern walls, folding her ams together neatly. Una seems oblivious to any tension there may be in the atmosphere. "Did you move here from Ista, Zahava?" A chuckle is directed at Sera's comment. "Indeed, there are a lot of people about." Though she bares no authority at Fort whatsoever, she knods approvingly at Seramara's work. "Important stuff you're doing there, I'd say." A wistful expression envelopes her. "Perhaps I can talk with my parents about letting me stay to work." She watches the candidate then for a moment. "Yes I'm thinking that's my best course of action. There really are that many candidates? I guess I should go take a peek at those eggs before they crack open on us."

"A temporary relocation," Zahava explains to Una with a smile. "Just until the Hatching. My sister was just Searched, and I've come along to keep an eye on her," she adds. "R'us said there were a couple dozen candidates, last night, but," she pauses attempting to find something diplomatic, "I'm not sure how accurate that would be."

Seramara is so visibly bursting to explain to Una her version of why Zahava is here (Romance! Tragedy! The tale of a lifetime!), but she restrains herself. "There's ten or twelve eggs, and they need at least double that number of Candidates, so a couple of dozen sounds right. Maybe something exciting will happen anyway, like a Stands Impression or an unexpected gold. Or both!" Not that she's been daydreaming or anything. "You really should try and stay for the Hatching, Una."

Andikola sighs and absently scratches her arm again, not even aware she's scratching it. And that sigh sounded awfully relieved for some reason. "I'll be happy when it's over." is all she says about the hatching. "Then I'll either have a new life or I can go home."

Una reaches for a strand of her hair, gently twirling the end of it between her fingertips; apparently she cannot keep her hands still. She bobs her head lighting as she takes in the head count. "That's an impressive number. Oh, your sister is going to stand as well. Well good luck to her! It's nice that family could come along with her. I didn't realize they did that when they searched people. Well," she says, trailing off for a moment to catch her breath, "just watching them hatch would be rather amazing for me. I've not seen so much as a firelizard break shell." Puzzlement seems evident from the young lady as she listens to Andikola's addition to the conversation. "I guess it does have to be rather unnerving to have to wait."

Zahava shakes her head slightly. "Not usually," she says. "I mean, they don't usually bring family. But my sister is only 13, and under my fosterage, so I insisted, I'm afraid," she says, without sounding particularly sorry about it at all.

"That was awfully kind of you," Seramara says seriously to Zahava. "Faranth, I can't imagine being away from home and among strangers at thirteen. I'd have been so nervous and scared and homesick." Of course, now that she's two whole Turns older, she's none of those things. "Are you not going to stay if you don't Impress, Andi?" she asks the Candidate curiously. "There's always jobs at a Weyr."

Andikola shrugs. "I don't see how. I know nothing about dragons, even less about healing. I can't really sew very well, and the thought of doing laundry the rest of my life is scary. Back home there's work I know a little about to do. Planting the vegetable garden, the herb garden and helping with the crops." A blazing grin fills her face suddenly. "I /like/ to play in the dirt."

The mention of jobs definitely makes the Half Circler seem a little more lively. "I'm seriously thinking about looking into that myself," she says, rather under her breath. "That was very nice of you to come along with her," Una chimes in in agreement with Seramara, nodding at Zahava. "Andi, was it? Don't they have a garden here?"

"Does Fort not have a working garden?" Zahava asks, speaking to Andikola for the first time. "I know there's the flower garden. P'draig showed me around it last time I was here. Ista has both," she says, expanding on Una's question as she looks towards the Candidate.

"There *is* an herb garden." Seramara is completely with Zahava and Una on this issue. "There wouldn't be enough herbs for all the stuff that needs to be made if there wasn't. We still have to import fellis and numbweed from Ista and the south because it won't really grow here in the cold, but the basic herbs for cooking and healing are grown out in the weyrgardens. Along with the vegetables and some of the legumes. You could help grow hot peppers, Andi, and feed them to people who bothered you."

Andikola looks around at Zahava, blinking. When she does answer, there is a shrug to go with it. "I have no idea. I haven't had too much time to explore with the chores they've set us. Besides, I thought that's why we tithed to Ruatha and the weyr twice a year?" Her voice is not warm, nor is it cold. It's neutral, almost flat sounding as she answers Zahava.

Andi's snort answers Seramara. "That means there should be a vegetable garden too. And I don't play those tricks. If I'm bothered by someone, I take them somewhere quiet, where there are very few, if any, prying eyes and ears and air the problem there. I don't play tricks or haul off and slug someone in front of the whole world."

Una glances over her shoulder as somebody calls out her name. "Gladae?" says the girl, startling. A tall and rather handsome man looks in from one of the cooridors and gestures to Una. "Oh my. I hate to cut this short, ladies, but it appears my cousin has found me! I really should go and give him the message now." She spares one last look at each of them, then a warm smile. "It was very nice meeting you all. Good luck to you, Andi, and to your sister, Zahava. I'll be seeing you about there, Sera!" Quicker than a vtol, Una hastily follows her cousin down the corridor.

Una opens the unmarked door, providing a glimpse of a spartan room beyond.
Una has left.

Zahava's eyebrows raise slightly at Andikola's suddent acidic outburst. "No one played any tricks on M'yr, and sometimes it is possible to be too hurt and confused to act rationally," she says simply, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Regardless, the matter was between him and me. Anyway, I need to see if I can't find Jenna or Nananthia," she concludes, stepping back, her general good mood fading away.

Caeleb emerges from the Candidates' Barracks.
Caeleb has arrived.

Caeleb slips out of the candidate barracks, head down as is his usual wont. It's because of this he nearly stumbles into the small gethering of others. The tips of his ears brighten and he mutters apologies.

Seramara is caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, though which role Zahava and Andi play is up to them. "I really don't know what you're talking about," she murmurs, looking back down at her powdered herbs, "and I hope you won't fight right here and now, Andi could get kicked out of Candidacy..." The arrival of a new person is welcome, if only as a tension breaker. "Are you okay? Come sit down."

Andikola says "Of course it's between the two of you. And yes, I've been confused and hurt. I took that person down and across the river, into the woods and let him know exactly how I felt. In private." with a shake of her head she looks at Seramara. "You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you? What's done is done. What was witnessed was witnessed. By many." Her attention swings to Caeleb when he arrives. During all of this, the expression on her face was not one of anger though it was hard to control the frustration that showed. "My mother always said I had too much common sense to be a proper girl." and her lips press closed on those words. She looks at Caeleb. "We've met?" Now confusion shows in her eyes. "I've met too many people lately. I'm Andi."

Caeleb mutters, or rather, stutters, "C-cael C-caeleb." He looks uncomfortable for having literally stumbled upon this disagreement. "I c-could go?"

Zahava shakes her head slightly. "You are entitled to your prejudices," she says sweetly before turning to go hunt down one of the women she'd mentioned needing to find, heading off down a passageway.

Zahava walks into Nananthia's room.
Zahava has left.

Seramara holds up her free hand in a little surrendering gesture. We shall not antagonize Andi, nope. "Okay, I'll take your word that you won't beat up Zahava unless it's in private." That way, she can claim to know nothing about it. "I'm Sera, Caeleb. And maybe you don't have to leave now, since things are calming down." If they don't, there's some nice soothing chamomile in her bag somewhere...

Caeleb nods slowly. "H-hi Sera. Uh, tea?" That concept seems to strike him in the right way, animating his features. "I c-could get us a p-pot. We c-could all have some?"

"It *sounded* like it might develop into a fight," Seramara says cautiously. "My oldest brother and sister did that, they started out very soft-voiced and reasonable and then suddenly there were things being thrown and once they both got their mouths filled with sweetsand." Talk about your fates worse than death. "I wasn't sure. Anyway, never mind. Snacks and tea sound great. If you want to get the pot, Caeleb, I can provide tea fixings. And we can gets snacks in the living cavern." She stands up, ready for something less likely to involve work.

Caeleb seems to ahve no troubles in gauging where a pot might be had, and heads off before the other two to collect one of boiling water - just right for making tea. Andi might proclaim she doesn't want any tea, but he's willing to share with Sera.

Caeleb climbs up the stairs to the Living Cavern.
Caeleb has left.

Andikola climbs up the stairs to the Living Cavern.
Andikola has left.

You head into the Living Cavern.

Fort Weyr Living Cavern(#199RJa$)
Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize.

Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr.

To the east, a short flight of stairs leads to the hallway to the inner caverns. A stout door to the north has a healer's emblem on it, marking the Infirmary. To the south is a wide tunnel, leading out of the Weyr, and a wide opening to the west leads to the Weyr bowl.
Contents:
Andikola
Buffet Table
Meg and Peg
Fort Weyr Firelizard Perch
'.
Caeleb comes down the marble steps from the kitchen.
Caeleb has arrived.

Following Caeleb up into the living cavern, Andi continues. "Anyway, I don't do that. I'll stay quiet until I get the person I disagree with somewhere quiet. Then I yell. Or whatever." she shrugs. "It's just the way we do things at home. Disagreements are taken care of in private." and she shrugs. "Once you've aired your opinion, the matter is over and done with." a small frown appears on her face. "Most of the time anyway." and her eyes focus on the food table. "Hmmmm. What's a good snack."

Caeleb carries a steaming pot of water, and a thick absorbant padding to help keep the heat in while it steeps. He looks about to see where Andi and Sera might have gotten themselves to and heads that way.

Seramara is quietly and inexorably gravitating toward the last few cheesecake wedges. She can't help it. She has just enough time to grab one and set it at a table before Caeleb comes back with the water. "Just set it over here--leave the padding under it so it doesn't scorch the table--and I'll get the tea steeping." She's already rummaging through her packets and pouches, coming up at last with the chamomile and something tart-sweet. "Citron's good in tea too. And a bag..." The tea is steeping in no time, and Sera contentedly settles herself with her late-night cheesecake. "I'll take your word for it," she assures Andi. "Try some of this."

Caeleb dutifully puts pot and padding where Sera instructs. He watches the making of tea with some bemusement. "D-do you add cit-citron to this?" As Andi speaks, he nods his head. "It i-isn't good to brew troubles. My m-mother says. M-makes bigger messes."

Andikola's nose wrinkles at the tea. "Told you I'm not upset. It's over and done with. And besides." she holds up the tall glass of juice and the plate full of crackers and the vegetable paste. "This will set me right as rain." and she walks over to the table and sits down with Caeleb and Seramara. "Though I'll take a cup with me when I go to bed. Might help me sleep better. The cot sags in the middle."

"Just a *little* citron," Seramara tells Caeleb. "It makes it taste a little sweeter, less like you're drinking vegetables." She sets an empty mug by the pot, for Andikola to fill at her leisure. "Sepran says that half the cots sag. And that half the Candidates snore. And something about someone from Igen who refuses to wash their clothes because it's bad luck, but I didn't believe him."

Caeleb helpfully informs, "V-vendolin curses." Then he's off collecting himself a mug, and an extra in case Andi changes her mind. "I d-didn't mean you were up-upset. I just meant it's g-good to speak your mind b-before you are. M-my mother says m-many a lord holder would do g-good to learn that."

Andikola blinks at Caeleb, opens her mouth and blinks again. A giggle suddenly emerges and she nods. "They probably would. I wonder if any of them every have?" At the mention of clothes, Andi's nose wrinkles. "That could be what's smelling funny in the other corner of the barracks. No idea though. I haven't seen anything like that or heard anything." she says to Seramara. Slathering some of the paste onto a cracker she takes a big bite. "Ymm"

Seramara makes a similar pleased-mouth-full sound of her own as she eats her sweet treat. "Ymmhmm." Swallowing, she slides back into actual words again. "Sepran says a lot of things--he thinks I'm easy to fool, just because I didn't grow up in a Weyr. Well, I didn't ride in on a fishing scow either!" Judging from that turn of phrase, she grew up in Tillek. She passes Caeleb a bowl of sweetener and a small pitcher of milk. "Your mother sounds like *she* ought to be the Lord Holder."

Caeleb mumbles proper thanks to Seramara and careful ladles out an even spoonful of sugar into his mug. And then just a dollop of milk. "No m-ma'am. Just a H-harper. Sometimes I h-help her. Scribing." Of course, he doesn't now - now he gets to do ever more interesting things like beating rugs. And shooting the Weyrleader.

Andikola perks up. Swallowing that big bite, she grins at Seramara. "Exactly. Leyon used to say some weird stuff when I was first searched. He's not quite as bad now." With a start, she turns to Caeleb. "You can scribe?" she asks almost eagerly. "Could you help me with mine? I mean, I can scribe, but my mother says she can't read it."

Seramara looks quite surprised. "Am I a ma'am?" she asks Caeleb. "I think I'm younger than you are. I don't even think I outrank you, a Candidate's at least as lowly as an infirmary aide. We both do busy-work. Just call me Sera. Maybe Leyon's the one not doing his laundry, Andi. I've hardly seen him lately. Maybe he's just forgotten." She listens to Andikola's request with interest. "My handwriting's spiderclaw-scratch, my da says."

Caeleb shrugs one shoulder, ear tips pinkening. "S-sera." The name is tried on, and while it doesn't exactly fit with ease yet, presumably that will come with time. His mug is taken between two slender hands and lifted to his lips where he blows over the steaming liquid within. "I c-could help y-you Andi. It isn't so h-hard once you know the t-tricks." And, as if to seal the bargain, he smiles quickly.

Andikola's eyes sparkle at Seramara "I thought healers scribing was awful anyway. Or so my brother says. He couldn't read the healers writing when he broke his leg. Her hopeful expression is replaced by a smile. "Thank you." she says sincerely to Caeleb. She returns her attention to slathering that paste on the crackers and eating them.

Seramara snaps her hands like spiderclaws at Andi, making a quick face. "Da was just used to my brother's perfect writing. I learned from my sister, who *is* a Healer." She takes a swallow of tea, the heat not bothering her. "I just make the herb things, someone else labels them. Are you going to invite your parents to the Hatching, Andi?"

Caeleb's gaze falls on and between the two young women, listening without interupting. He sips his tea, hmming over the flavour. "N-nice."

Andikola blinks, surprised. "Sure, though I don't know if they'll come. They're busy with harvest right now." her face turns thoughtful. "Unless the eggs hatch about the time the tithe train comes in." She glances at Caeleb before picking up another cracker. "What about you. Any of your family coming?"

Caeleb settles his mug back upon the table, nodding slowly to Andi's question. "I g-guess so. M-my mother is posted here when she's not a the H-hall." He doesn't mention his father, though.

Seramara delicately drops a candied cherry into the tea and sips, to see what that does to the flavor. "I heard that riders will fly *any* family member of a Candidate in, if they really want to come. And it's not for a few more sevendays, so maybe by then your harvest will be over and your family can come watch. I might ask if my family can come, or at least my sister at the Healer Hall. Just to *see*." In a pang of sympathy, she says to Caeleb, "If your dad doesn't come, I'll help cheer for you."

Andikola grins. "Me too, even if I will be down there getting my feet burned." and she rolls her eyes. With a sigh, she straightens up and reaches for the pot, carefully filling one of the extra mugs with the tea. "Time for me to head back and finish mending my socks, then try to sleep." She sets the pot down, takes her dirty dishes over to the bin and returns. Picking up the mug of still hot tea, she adds "Thanks for the tea Sera. Talk to you later about scribing Caeleb." and she heads back into the inner caverns.

Andikola walks down the eastern stairs to the Inner Caverns.
Andikola has left.

Caeleb partly rises from his seat to nod to Andikola as she sets out to leave. "G-goodnight."

Caeleb sits back down when the girl is gone. "I th-think he'd c-come. B-but we don't talk to h-him." He explains this to Sera quietly.

Seramara 'ohs' softly. Yet another dramatic and tragic story, right here in front of her. Wow. "Was he horrible to you and your mother?" she asks, curiosity warring with sympathy. "I mean, I'm not trying to pry, but a lot of parents would change their minds and try to curry favor if their son became a rider, I bet."

Caeleb sighs softly, and averts his gaze. "M=my mother doesn't say. I know his name. He rides at I-ista. I was just little th-there." His mug is swept up with a quick grab. "B-but you can cheer if you want?"

Seramara nods stoutly. "Oh, I will. Everyone's been so nice to me here, even though I'm not a Candidate, and let me look at the eggs from the Galleries and get a job and *do* things I never got to do at home. I'm cheering for everybody when the eggs hatch." Pause. "Maybe not Sepran, if he keeps being a tailfork. But everybody else. And it would be neat if maybe you Impressed a bronze and then your dad came up and tried to be nice to you and your mom after all this time and your dragon snarled at him and he ran away squealing like a porcine." Sera has a flair for the dramatic, it seems.

Caeleb blinks at that image, his father being growled at and snapped at by a bronze. It brings a grin to the young man's face and something of a chuckle from him. "Th-that would be.. I don't think she hates him. Th-they just.." He pauses to think for a moment. "Sometimes it just doesn't work."

"I guess," Seramara murmurs, shrugging one shoulder. "Mum and Da fight, but I know they love each other. I think I could tell the difference, if they were fighting because they really *didn't*. It'd be hard to sit and watch." She shyly pats Caeleb's shoulder. "Well, maybe this--you being a Candidate and probably Impressing--will change things. Maybe they'll reconcile a little."

R'tran has arrived.
R'tran grabs a plate of food and sits down. He gives a cheery wave.

Caeleb murmurs, "But th-they love one another." His answer is soft, spoken over his mug before a swallow. At the pat, he smiles again. "TH-thanks. I coudl use a friend or two." So far so good.

R'tran eavesdrops, munching his wherry pie.

Seramara is oblivious to R'tran's eavesdropping. She's fairly oblivious, this girl. "Happy to do it. Poke your head into the Infirmary and ask for tea anytime. Well, anytime scary pregnant greenriders aren't demanding their herbal tea. You wouldn't like Geia when she's grumpy." *Now* she sees R'tran, and cheerfully waves her fork at him.

Caeleb offers, shyly, and with a grin, "W-well, no worries about my expecting." He, of course, isn't oblivious to the eavesdropping rider. What to do about it, though? A finger taps on his mug and he braves a hello, "D-do you need something S-sir?" There, that should do it.

R'tran blanches a little at mention of cranky pregnant greenriders. Barging right into the conversation, he gesticulates with his fork as well. "If you ask me, greenriders should be confined to their weyrs when pregnant or proddy." His tone is decisive.

Caeleb chokes on a mouthful of tea, and sputters it across the table where he sits.

R'tran belatedly hears Caeleb's offer and waves it off. "No no, lad, thank you," he smiles, taking another bite.

Seramara opens her mouth to say something, looking rather shocked at R'tran, when fate does it for her. A pretty blonde woman with a definite bulge showing under her tunic stalks in, glaring unerringly at poor Sera. "I asked for my tea. I *need* that tea. If I have to spend one more day being sick when I could be flying with Skylith, I will blame *you*. And as for *YOU*--" Ah, now it's R'tran's turn. "You got me into this! You or V'than. Or O'rin. Or R'myle. I forget. The Sandbar was dark that night. Anyway. Tea, Miss infirmary aide!" Seramara shoots Caeleb an apologetic look and scuttles off to the Infirmary, followed by a grumbling Geia.

Log: What have I walked into?

Tue, 01 Aug 2006 01:45:44 GMT

You enter the Inner Caverns.

Leyon finally cottons on to the idea that something about Zahava and Andi's interactions just isn't quite the way it ought to be between two people who have apparently met before. "Shards, Andi, you don't gotta bite my head off just for wondering. I kinda meant it to be friendly." By the last sentence he's slipped into sullenness, which he thoughtfully expands to include the Istan assistant headwoman. "What's with you two, anyways?" He doesn't pay any mind to Jenna until she gets a greeting from his fellow candidate, at which point he begins to resemble a spooked runner. He makes no move yet, though.

Seramara walks in with a scrap of hide in her hand, looking very thoughtful. "What I have to do," she mutters, "is find a way to say 'I'm doing great, I'm having fun, don't you dare send Tay to come bring me home,' without actually *saying* it." And then she looks up, and sees the people, and stops the monologue. "Oh. Um. Sorry. Don't mind me, just writing home." She carefully detours around the little cluster of people towards an empty chair.

Zahava's eyes shift smoothly to Jenna when Andikola's attention moves to her. "Evening, Weyrwoman," she echoes the child, tacking on, "Ista's duties," yet again, though nothing in her tone suggests she's tiring of saying it. She glances back to Andikola again, coloring a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure I ever got your name, before," she apologizes. "Or I've forgotten it."

Jenna nods pleasantly to Andi and then, "Zahava." From her tone, she's only just recalled the Istan's name. "Fort's duties. I believe M'yr's in his office. I just dumped some reports on him." A quick glance follows Seramara, and then she pins Leyon with a look. "Candidate, hm? And which one are you?" She consults the list in her hands. "You're not wearing your shoulderknot."

Andikola simply says "Just tell them." to Seramara "Otherwise, they'll do it anyway." though she doesn't know if the other candidate realizes she's spoken to her. To Zahava, she nods, offering "I'm Andi, Ma'am." and she jumps guiltily at Jenna's mention of the shoulder knot. Whether she's being talked to or not. A very quiet, muted "oops" emerges as she glances at Leyon's shoulder to see if she's definitely the one being talked to.

That alarmed, jumpy look has yet to leave Leyon's countenance. His eyes carefully fail to meet Jenna's when she addresses him, and even as she speaks he sidles a step away from her, back still pressed against the wall. It's unclear whether he thinks that Weyrwomen have some sort of special powers, that she'll ask her dragon to eat him -- or just squish him -- should he do something wrong, or whether there's something else to his discomfort, but it's palpable. "Who am...shoulderknot? Oh, oh, right. I'll just go get it, then." He has the excellent manners to forgo a single farewell to anyone as he immediately shoots toward the candidates' quarters.

Seramara isn't sure how to correct the Weyrwoman. Are Weyrwomen allowed to be wrong? "My duties to you, ma'am, but I'm not a Candidate. I just work in the Infirmary." In an effort to be helpful, she adds "I could *be* a Candidate if you wanted, I guess, even though I haven't been Searched and it looks like you've got plenty..."

"Nice to properly meet you, Andi," Zahava says first to the candidate before turning her eyes to Jenna. "Ah, thank you. I'll probably catch a ride home shortly. I wouldn't want to bother him while he's working. He has so much to do..." she says letting that trail off as she watches Leyan curiously. Then, she's looking over to Seramara as well.

Leyon brushes aside the curtain and enters the Candidates' Barracks.
Leyon has left.

Jenna sniffs in Leyon's wake. "What was his name, Andi?" As Seramara puts her eighth mark in, she blinks. "Well, if you're weyrfolk, and of the right age, you may ask to stand if you wish, uh, um... what was your name again?"

Seramara is quite dazed by all these new opportunities. And all she did was wander in with the intent of writing a letter! "I'm Seramara, ma'am, the new infirmary aide. But I'm not weyrbred, I'm from Tillek, so I probably can't ask to stand. The last dragonrider in my family was in the last Interval, anyway, if I believe my da's stories..." There's really not much else she can do except smile a little weakly and gesture towards Leyon's wake. "I guess you were talking to him."

Andikola pipes up helpfully "That's Leyon, Ma'am. I think he's in a mood tonight." and she glances towards the candidate barracks with a shrug. She almost answers Seramara, but remembers at the last second it's not her place so she shuts her mouth and stands still for the moment.

Zahava falls silent, glancing between Jenna and Seramara curiously. She clasps her hands loosely behind her back to listen.

Jenna mms, "Leyon." She finds the name on her list, and then looks back up at Andi. "You're not wearing your knot either." A faint frown tugs at her lips and then she nods to Seramara. "Ah. Well, there's nothing wrong with being hold bred. I was runner bred myself." A glance to Zahava and she asks, "I can have Niyath bespeak Sol if you like? See if he's busy? Long way to come and not see him."

Andikola's face flushes a dull red. "Yes Ma'am. I forgot. I'll fix that as soon as I can." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Is it all right to go do that now Ma'am?"

Seramara nods vehemently, little pieces of hair falling into her face. "No, ma'am. Of course not. Tillek's a good place, and so is Fort, and the Halls around, and the little green runnerholds, and everything." A beat of silence, long enough for Zahava to get an answer in, is all she can manage before she asks "Is it so important that they wear the knots? I mean, everyone who's wandering around here looking kind of lost--except me--is a Candidate, I think."

Zahava ahhs softly. "I... that would be very kind of you, Weyrwoman," she finally says. Then, with a sudden flash of humor, she waves her hand slightly, "I'm looking lost, too. Although I suppose I have my Istan knot for identification." The waving hand turns to direct a gesture at her shoulder.

Jenna nods all 'round. "Indeed, it is important, particularly for visitors." She smiles graciously at Zahava. "Otherwise we'd have candidates getting visitors lost in the back caverns."

Andikola nods her own head, with a quick "Thank you Weyrwoman, and a nod to Zahava and Seramara, she turns and goes back into the candidates barracks.

Andikola brushes aside the curtain and enters the Candidates' Barracks.
Andikola has left.

Seramara considers that. It's logical, it makes sense. "I doubt the Candidates would do it on *purpose*, but all right. At least you know who you're looking for, miss headwoman." In the absence of Zahava's name, that'll do. "I guess I should get myself a knot, though I don't know what an infirmary aide's knot should look like. Fort's colors with a sprig of numbweed woven in?"

"I used to make knots for Ierne," Zahava says. "Residents knots were the same there," she offers with a glance to Jenna to make sure she is not stepping on the Weyrwoman's toes with her answer. "Meaning, no differential just for the infirmary or the laundry."

Jenna laughs. "Just a regular resident's knot is fine, Seramara." A pause and that far-away look comes across her face, as she turns to Zahava, "Sol says that M'yr can't be disturbed at the moment, I'm sorry. You're welcome to stay the night if you wish, there are guest rooms right through there," she indicates the appropriate doors. "And I need to get back to work. Reports to look over before the morning." A quick smile for the other two and she excuses herself.

Jenna climbs up the stairs to the Living Cavern.
Jenna has left.

Seramara is making mental notes as Jenna leaves, and reciting them aloud to Zahava. "Resident's knot, okay. Brown and black. Though maybe I *should* but a little bit of numbweed or a dried fellis blossom in it, just so people know. I don't want to get mistaken for a drudge and end up doing dishes. Or in the Barracks with the candidates, because I bet I'd get in so much trouble...you're here to visit the *Weyrleader*?" Color her impressed.

A delicate flush of color rises into Zahava's cheeks at Jenna's offer of a guest room, though she does thank her even as she declines. "Oh, thank you, but... I have work to do, at home." Once the Weyrwoman is gone, she closes her eyes for a moment and takes a breath. "Stupid," is muttered beneath her breath before she opens her eyes with a tired expression. "Yes. I was. Up until a few months ago, he was just Ista's Weyrsecond, and when I met him, he was just a bronzerider."

Seramara looks wide-eyed at Zahava. Her very first encounter with a star-crossed romance! "Oh, it's not stupid! It's so...so...I bet he thinks of you at night, sitting out with his dragon, mindful of his responsibilities but still wishing he was back at Ista with you!" Sera has been into the overwrought romance tales in the records room, it would seem. "Sure he's busy now, with Search and all, but soon things'll calm down and he'll want to see you. I *know* it." Because that's how the world works, when you're fifteen. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'd better go find that knot. It was nice to meet you--if I see the Weyrleader, I'll tell him you were here!" She patters off into one of the side caverns, still visibly delighted at the shiny new drama.

Log: First Day In, and Already Trading Siblings

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 01:51:42 GMT

A quick bio

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 01:45:04 GMT

Seramara (Sera to just about everyone) is 15, and born and raised at Tillek Hold. Her father Gaaron is an extremely large man whose size works to his advantage as a Hold guardsman. Her mother Coriell is a Fisher, working down around the docks unloading and selling fresh-caught fish and shellfish. Her brother Tayver (24) followed in his father's footsteps and is also a Tillek guardsman, and her brother Jastyn (18) is in training to do the same. Her sister Sennetra (20) is a senior apprentice at the Healer Hall. Her youngest brother, Camrell (12), looks like he might be headed to the Healer Hall as well in a Turn or two. Also living with the family is Sera's cousin Donnic, who's a few months older than she is and her unofficial twin. His mother (Sera's aunt Valine) died of pneumonia when Donnic was nine, and Sera's parents took him in and 'prenticed him with the Fishers. Gaaron and Coriell wanted more children, but she has trouble carrying to term. Sera's heard her say that for every living child, she's lost another.

Sera's never grown out of her fascination with dragons. So while the rest of her family has 'real' jobs, she opted to study the basics of herbs and other simple healing arts, with plans to go to Fort and join the dragonhealing program there, starting when she was fourteen. Aside from those studies, she befriended the Hold's watchdragon pair, Trini and green Nolanath, and got some hands-on experience with dragon physiology. After a Turn of this, Sera was declared ready to go to a Weyr and start learning practical application of all her lessons. So she packed her bags, hugged her parents, hugged Donnic hard, and let Nolanath take her to Fort Weyr.

Things to know about Sera? She's unquenchably cheerful and optimistic. Sarcasm and subtle humor will fly right over her head, but since she won't know she's being insulted, it all works out. She hates vtols and spinners. She likes to have something to do, and will absentmindedly start straightening a room if bored or restless. She's impervious to all but the most inclement weather. She eats like a runner. Her occasional crushes are never revealed to anyone, but have been known to cause her to write bad poetry. She has no fear of dragons; healthy caution, but not fear. And don't give her klah. Seriously. Klah makes her hyper and frenetic--she'll clean a room in under an hour, then suddenly collapse.

Oh, and if you want to adopt any member of her family, contact me here or page me onMUSH.