The following is a log of roleplay from PernMUSH . The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on pernMUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.

9/17/02 Candidate Barracks

Marten comes in with a vague smile, eating a large hunk of bread. He looks over curiously at the occupied cot, smiling even more broadly. "Well, hello."

Cheni looks up from her writing, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. She holds her writing stick up to forestall a further comment. "Don't tell me, I was muttering as I write. Harpers could never drill that out of me." She smiles up at the young man. "You a new candidate? I'm Cheni, from Braddle Hold, near Southern Boll Hold."

"Marten," he says with a wave, tearing off another small piece of bread. "From Telgar Hold. How long you been here?"

Cheni puts her hide down beside her and stretches her legs out, then hugs them against her chest. "Well met. I've been here about a month and a half, it'd say? Closer to two." She shrugs lightly. "Days float into each other around here. Telgar, huh?" She chuckles. "Then you are used to the cold."

Marten nods slowly. "It's not so bad, really. Some places have it worse than here. Two months already? What have they had you doing all that time?" He moves over to his own cot, chewing on bread.

Cheni watches Marten enjoy his bread, then idly wonders. "I've heard of inspections in some candidate caverns. Wonder if they do that at Telgar. Umm, well, cold is cold and it's going to take me a while to warm up to it." She chuckles at her pun. "Let's see, Steam bath maintenance, Stores, latrines, serving in the living cavern, washing dishes, helping crafters, annoying brownrider’s.. you know, the usual stuff."

Marten grins thoughtfully as he swallows, propping one ankle on his other knee as he gets comfortable on his cot. "Maybe I'll take you swimming when it gets really cold. After that everything else'll be a snap."

Cheni shivers and draws her arms in to rub her upper arms. "No thank -you-, I was out there, at the lake today when some brownrider had just finished watching his lifemate swim. I am sure I saw ice on that lake. Can you imagine?"

Marten just shrugs, brushing the last crumbs from his shirt. "Up to you. But it'll make sitting in here feel like a beach down south."

Cheni smirks. "Perhaps. But then again, I can always warm up in the steam baths." She eyes the young man and shakes her head. "I'm trying to ease into the weather, nice and slow, you know."

Marten shrugs again, still grinning. "Well, if you want to do it that way, I guess I can't stop you/"

Cheni laughs. "As if you could even try to get me to do it any other way?" Her eyes flash a mischievous challenge perhaps. "I've got long legs and can run fast."

"Well," Marten says with a slightly broader grin, "I can see that."

Cheni laughs. "How? I'm sitting on my cot." She hugs her knees closer to her chest a she grins back. "So how about you, when did you arrive in? Who was the searchrider?"

"Well," Marten says, pausing to loosen something in his gums with his tongue, "I'd come up here looking for some sort of job. I was down at the lake watching the dragons when N'var made me an offer."

Cheni makes a little face at the cleaning maneuvers that might be going on behind closed lips. "Well, I guess being a candidate is a sort of job. N'var, huh? The Weyrleader himself? That's pretty special."

Marten nods slowly. "Palineth came up on the beach and was sorta eyeing me."

Cheni quirks a brow up at that. "Really? Well that would be a bit unnerving, I suppose, a big bronze like him just eyeing you. I was sideswiped by a bunch of Telgari's, I thought they were going to Lava Lounge but they were searching"

Marten shrugs, grinning cockily. "It wasn't all that bad. I knew he wouldn't hurt me."

Cheni snorts. "Well, even -I- know that, silly boy." Shaking her writing stick, playfully, Cheni says.” I may be from the ends of Pern but I did listen to the Harper songs." Laughing now, she admits. "Well, not all the Harper songs, some I just fell asleep listening to as they were rather dull."

Marten frowns vaguely. "Back home we were always much more focused on work. That's the way it goes in the small cotholds, I guess."

Cheni looks over toward Marten's cot. "But surely the harpers came through to make sure you at least knew your alphabet, your numbers and the rudimentary duty songs?" She sighs. "I grew up in a bit larger Hold, not a major hold by any stretch of the imagination no matter what the Lord Holder of Braddle Hold believes about himself." She jumps up to her feet, turns then kneels to pull her press from under her cot and lifts the lid, rustling around in it.

"The basics," Marten says with a small shrug, "But I hear that places like this get a song with every meal."

A muffled "aha!" speaks of Cheni's success and she pulls out a small hide case, small enough to fit her firelizard's leg. Closing the lid and tucking it back under the cot, she sits on the edge of her cot once again. "Well, a song at every meal, I don't know about that, but we do have a Weyrharper, and of course, journeymen harpers teaching the smaller folk, at least I think that's what they are doing in there."

Marten nods slowly, scratching at his cheek as he looks over at the case. "Well, I guess I'll see just how it works before long."

Cheni rolls up her tiny note as tight as she can and shoves it carefully into the holder, then coaxes a tiny green firelizard over as she looks to Marten. "Well, how long ago did you come again? I forgot, so many candidates are coming in now." As the firelizard comes every closer, she pauses to speak reassuring murmurs as she attaches the note.

With the note attached and the whispered reminder of the treat on the other side of *between*, Stunning flies up and disappears as her lifemate watches. Cheni waits a moment, then is satisfied and heads out for her supper with an easy wave to the Marten. "See you around, then?"

You walk through the large entrance to the Living Cavern.

Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern(#750RDJM$)

This huge cavern is sufficiently roomy to hold a large portion of the Weyr's population without feeling cramped. There's always a bustle of activity here. Fragrant dishes are constantly in preparation for mealtimes: currently for the evening meal. Drudges are always present, either cleaning under Pierron's watchful eye, or helping fetch and carry. A myriad of glowbaskets and many ever-lit hearths make the cavern warm and inviting despite its size. The scents of cooking meats, baking breads and pastries, and the pungent aroma of spices hang mouthwateringly in the air. It is little wonder that those seeking to relax nearly always find their way here to do it.

A short tunnel jaunts northward out to the bowl and the merry sounds of cooking, chores, and laughter echo from the kitchen at the southeast end of the cavern near the easterly passage to the rest of the lower caverns. Within the lower caverns is an entrance to the infirmary weyr to care for injured dragons and riders.

Contents:

FL:

PLAYERS: Pierron Kichevio L'han Cheni

OTHER: Telgar Serving Tables

Obvious Exits:

Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl

Kichevio is curled up in a chair with her klah and her dinner. Her hair, incidentally, is windblown and seems to have leaves tangled in it. "Evening, Cheni," she greets with a tired smile. "Have some soup, there's enough to feed a dragon, should one suddenly get a taste for it."

Cheni ties her apron round her twice, as it is so large and shakes her head, laughing. "No thank you Kichevio, but can I get you anything? I'm on duty for another candlemark or so. I was just bring a tray down to a sick auntie." She wrinkles her nose. “I’m glad I'm not old, it must be horrid."

"If you could just leave that pot of klah within arm's reach..." But that's an idle wish, and Kichevio knows it. "No, I'm fine for now. Thanks though." She wrinkles her nose at the thought of getting old. "I don't plan to find out. Or if I do, I'll be one of those nice old aunties that knit and bake and take the weyrbrats for rides on her dragon. Not cranky and bitter and smelling odd."

Cheni grins. "Well, I could, but it'd get cold, sitting there." She gestures to the klah then begins to gather dirty dishes into a basket. "Well, I think old is up here." She taps at her temple with her free hand before placing a mug in the basket. "You know? You got some people who are old before they have their twentieth turn. And being cranky, bitter and smelling odd is anyone's territory. Have you got a whiff of that lad from Brita's Stables? I keep hoping someone will have enough and dunk him under the water for a good scrub."

Kichevio makes quite a face. "Why do you think I try not to wander near your barracks?" she asks Cheni dryly. "You lot are mostly wonderful, but that one needs to be thrown into the lake at the first possible opportunity. You all should consider forming a bathing mob for just such a purpose. Rampaging along with sweetsand and maybe a few sponges." Hey, it makes sense to her. "Evening, M'silne."

M'silne slips in from the Bowl, features reddened from a recent ride through brisk winds. Quick steps take him towards the hearth for a few quick slops of soup into a mug, giving Kich a friendly (if mute) wave-and-nodded-hello along the way. He starts to turn back the way he came, but his steps somehow amble back to the rest of the Cavern and he winds up sitting down at the Thunderbolt table quietly and without comment. Mmm, soup. Sluuurp.

Cheni chuckles and by the evil grin that forms on her lips, it makes sense to Cheni as well. She nods politely in M'silne's general direction and hands off the dishes in her hands to a candidate with dish duty who heads off to the kitchens. "Fortunately, he's on the other side of the barracks from me, and I don't know, I have a feeling the candidate coordinators might not like it if we accidentally drown one of our own. I wouldn't be surprised the lad doesn't know how to swim. Or even knows what water -is-." She shrugs as M'silne helps himself and grabs a small klah pot to offer refills to sundry mugs lifted up in silent request.

L'han sits at the outskirts of the cavern, just silently watching the others as they file in. Any leaving seem to hold no interest for him. Only those arriving. Bright eyes, boring into all comers.

Kichevio holds up an admonishing finger. "I didn't say _drown_ him. I said _bathe_ him. Small, yet important difference. Or else do it in a sneaky roundabout way. Wait till you all are conscripted into washing dragons, then accidentally-on-purpose push him into a pile of sweetsand suds. Then have Corwin or someone large hold him underwater until he's rinsed. Problem solved."

M'silne pauses between slurps to clear his throat noisily, but doesn't make any other comment for now. As he continues to eat, it seems that his gaze keeps slipping lower and lower, or perhaps deeper and deeper into his dinner. Must be some mighty interesting stew.

Cheni giggles as she weaves around three incoming riders who are bent on laughing at a joke than paying attention to a candidate carrying klah. "I don't know, Kichevio. How does one gauge how long to hold a person down, is the question. Either way.." She winks playfully towards the greenrider. "Problem solved." As she sails around her section of the cavern, she's not quite aware L'han is present. Noticing M'silne, however, the server for the day asks. "Can I get you something to drink?"

The three incoming riders are all carefully scrutinized for their laughter, but quickly discarded. L'han's eyes follow the movements of that Candidate next, and her interaction with M'silne. At least he thinks it's M'silne hunched over into his bowl so oddly.

M'silne clears his throat again, eyes leaping upwards. "Ahh." He offers a mild smile, saying, "Sure. Some klah'd be great. Thanks...Cheni?" The name is said tentatively, given that M'silne's memory for names is...well, easily confused. "Or Chayil? No. Cheni. Right?"

Kichevio grins, sipping her klah. "When the bubbles stop coming, that means you've held them under long enough," she says reminiscently. "We had to do that to Narmian twice before he finally realized the _point_ of getting into hot water with no clothes on. Faranth save me from 12-Turn-old boys..." Her voice trails off as she notices M'silne getting up close and personal with his soup. She trades an amused look with L'han before nudging her fellow Thunderbolter. "Syat awake. Hot soup burns, and then Yash would be annoyed at you."

Cheni reaches for an empty mug that sits at the end of M'silne's table and pours the rider a klah, not spilling a drop, until she sets in front of him. Unfortunately, as she listens to Kichevio, she giggles and a little slops out. "Cheni, I think, if I heard right, Chayil's the newest Goldrider at Igen Weyr, I met her once, short, but a nice person." A slight turn to look Kichevio's way and she catches sight of a candidate coordinator in the form of L'han. "Not that I'd do that, ma'am, I mean, Kichevio, no way." She shakes her head. “Safety comes first and all that." A regular vtol of activity, the candidate replaces her klah pot with a juice pitcher. "Well, I must admit, I find bathing around here a bit difficult too, but I sneak in when the baths are not that busy."

Predictably, M'silne clears his throat. Again. His eyes slide sidelong towards Kichevio as he briskly answers, "No, she wouldn't. And thank you, Cheni," he adds with a quick nod. "Chayil. Igen. Right." With the intention of fully disproving Kichevio's theory, he lifts the mug up to his lips to slurp directly from it, not minding the Steam of Death. With the first sip, of course, the mug slams back to the table as the bluerider's eyes widen in agony and he tries to breath excess heat out of his mouth. "Awwhh. Awwwhh!" Locking his jaw shut, he swallows convulsively and winds up coughing in pain and alarm. Ow.

Kichevio stands vindicated. Or rather sits. "Cheni, I think M'silne needs some water. And please don't call me ma'am?" Her own klah is just the right degree of hot, and she sips it with impunity. "You may need to get used to company in the baths. There's almost always _someone_ there, even if just a rider relaxing while their dragon soaks."

Cheni blushes and nods to Kichevio as she scrambles over herself to get water for the bluerider at the same time. "Hard to remember but I'm getting it half right which is better than half right?" Filling the mug with water, with not much finesse, she manages to get it in front of M'silne, muttering her sympathy. "That's gotta hurt." She merely nods as she passes with the water pitcher to Kichevio.

"Mmmhhha," M'silne comments thoughtfully, quaffing the water mug quickly. "Mmmh. Thanks again." He nods towards the Candidate, and spares Kich a nod as well, along with a begrudging smile. "I, uh...shouldn't rush dinners so much anymore, I guess." He pushes his soup around a bit more, then adds, "I'm going to go let my tongue cool off. See you." Gathering up his miscellaneous mugs, he heads to bus them.

Kichevio is nothing if not helpful. "Saulith says it's started snowing, just go outside and open your mouth." She pours herself a glass of water. "Don't leave on our account, M'silne, we won't let the bad klah attack you again."

L'han shifts his gaze to Kichevio. He seems to be trying to decipher what she meant by 'it's started snowing'. Or perhaps it was 'open your mouth'.

"I'll try the snow," M'silne comments, a wan bit of humor in his tone as he slinks out. "Be back to finish that klah, though!" he calls.

Cheni shivers. "Snow? Are you serious?" She looks out to the bowl as if Kichevio announced a freak fall of Thread.

Kichevio grins at L'han, waving to M'silne as he vanishes. "It's snowing," she explains slowly and clearly to the brownrider. "Pretty cold white stuff falling from the sky? I thought it might help M'silne's burnt tongue...yes, it really is, Cheni. Just a sprinkling, though. It probably won't amount to more than an inch."

Cheni splutters. "But I wasn't informed, I'm not prepared, what do I do?" She holds the juice pitcher in midair, then centers her gaze upon L'han.

Yashira stomps in, making a beeline for the serving tables, jaw set and lips pulled tight.

Kichevio watches Cheni the Uninformed Southerner panic, hiding her smile behind her mug. "One inch of snow won't do anything more than make the Weyr look pretty and your feet a bit cold," she advises. "Don't worry about it." She starts to wave to Yashira, then stops and opts for sobriety and a concerned expression instead. "Evening, Yash. What's up?"

"Rock. Same as ever in the living cavern," Yashira retorts immediately. "I hear they were talking about opening up the top of it, but the cooks naturally complained about the potential of rain watering their soups down." She thumps a plate down and starts grabbing stuff to put on it.

L'han does, actually, comprehend what Kichevio is saying, now that he's staring right at her. And he smiles. Now Yashira.....she never makes sense, so he doesn't even need to look that direction.

Cheni places the juice pitcher back at the serving station and while she looks Yashira's way, her attention is definitely out on the bowl, expecting an invasion of some sort, apparently by the way she barricades herself behind the serving table. She manages to ask the brownrider. "Can I get you anything, Yashira?"

"Of course," Kichevio says equably. "How silly of me to forget. Why are you slamming those plates down like they personally insulted you?" Regard for personal safety? None here.

"I'm not, Kichevio," Yashira replies. She shakes her head a little, not looking up from her grabbing and depositing. "I'm fine, Cheni, thank you. Both my hands still work." She grabs her plate once it's full and stalks over to the closet seat to plunk her butt down again.

L'han waves his fingers toward Cheni. Of course they work, see? They wave. But he asks her anyway, in a soft voice, "I'd like some ale, please. If you've a spare moment."

Cheni shakes her head just a little and steps back to her station. She speaks mildly but with a tinge of frustration. "If you do need anything, feel free to ask, just doing my duty for the day, Yashira." As L'han pipes up, she positively radiates until she realizes she doesn't have a clue how to properly pour ale, and looks at the cask, bewildered. "Uh, L'han? How do you do this?"

L'han jumps up, redheaded madman to the rescue, demonstrating with a good deal of murmuring how to work the tap.

Kichevio tilts her head to follow Yashira's stalk, but decides not to pry. That way lies the loss of an appendage or other. "Just make sure the foam doesn't overflow," she advises Cheni over L'han's mutterings.

Yashira settles down with a grunt, picking up her utensils and spearing some meat viciously before guiding it toward her mouth and chewing.

Cheni watches carefully, thoroughly confused by when to let the spigot run, how to turn the glass, etc. "Is there a chart?" She peers around the side of the keg, hoping a diagram is there but shrugs as she looks down at L'han's hand, realizing he has his drink.

"L'han manages," Kichevio says with a grin. "See, hardly anything spilled, and both of you _and_ the keg survived. Well done." She grazes upon her dinner for a few minutes before her inner snark kicks in again. She can't help it. "Yash, the meat is dead. As a hunter, you know this. Spearing it again won't help."

Cheni steps back again, safe behind the table, giving Kichevio a nod of admiration as she deals with Yashira head on as the former hunter eats. She busies herself by stacking mugs that were already quite neat and tidy. "Well, I figure if he wants ale, he has probably poured it for himself a few times. I'd hate to give him nothing but foam."

"It has to get back on my fork, Kichevio," Yashira retorts. "Surely you must admit that even as a hunter, I'm civilized enough to use /utensils/." Glare.

"I would never deny that, Yash." Kichevio is all amiability. "Still, if that meat was rare, it would be mooing for mercy." Hey, she's feeling brave. And she can always hide behind Cheni if danger starts to appear.

"Very witty, Kichevio," Yashira mutters, going for some mashed tubers next.

M'silne walks in from the bowl.

Cheni watches the witty repartee fly across the room with growing amusement tickling her and causing her to break into a safe smile. Not wanting to really step past the table, she continues her pointless work. As a fellow candidate nudges her to relieve her from her shift, she pretends not to notice. Safer back here.

Lips tightly sealed and jaw set in a determined sort of manner, M'silne stalks back into the Living Cavern. With curt nods to all those who might want one, and even a few who don't, the bluerider sits deliberately down in his former position: next to Kichevio, and fortuitously enough, directly across from Yashira. Gazing at her intently, he opens his mouth and, with delicate precision and careful planning, says:

"Hi."

"Evening," Yashira replies, arching an eyebrow. "Didn't you just leave?" Her tone is low.

Kichevio is silent. Is discreet. Is invisible, even. She's not getting in the middle of this discussion, oh no. She leans back, nurses her klah, and tries to look harmless. With her ears perked.

"I did," M'silne confirms dryly. "I'm back. I had to let my mouth cool off. Cheni, could I have some klah, please." His tone doesn't alter at all throughout the dialog, and it'd be interesting to see if the Candidate even heard the request.

"Ah," Yashira says, scooping more tuber into her mouth slowly.

Safer, schmafer. With a not so gentle hip check by the candidate sent to relieve her, Cheni finds herself stumbling past the safety zone and into center court, so to speak. She has no choice but to leave the players bench and heads to the klah pot, grabbing herself an innocuous meat roll on her way by. Intercepted by the opposition, her way to the klah pot is blocked and she is forced to head towards an empty seat near Yashira. She glowers as the her fellow candidate serves M'silne a mug of klah.

"So," M'silne continues, laying both his hands on the table, palms pressed face down. "How. Are you." He looks up curiously at the hand that's serving him, noting, "You're not Cheni," in a conversational tone before turning back to Yashira. "Oh. Hello, Cheni."

"You know, I should say 'eating'," Yashira says with false mildness, stabbing another chunk of roast wherry. "I really should. But instead, I'll say 'I've been better'."

Cheni eyes her fellow candidate as the girl scurries back to safety then smiles at M'silne. "Off duty now, so it seems." She nibbles at the meatroll, breaking off the top flaky crust.

Kichevio murmurs something that could, if one was listening intently, possibly sound like "I thought so," in response to Yashira's comment. But only if one was really listening. Otherwise, she's just sipping her drink and enjoying the show.

N'var walks in from the bowl.

M'silne exhales audibly, a kind of bristling look on his face. "Well. That's too bad," he says to Yashira. "Although it's good to know you haven't lost your powers of discrimination." He takes a long gulp of his klah -- after an experimental sip, of course -- and looks back to Cheni. There's mild surprise in his eyes, perhaps at the fact that she's still here. "Mmmh. Enjoy your dinner."

"You started it," Yashira informs M'silne, looking up and peering at his face. "Outside. So don't give me that."

After observing M'silne's expression and then hearing the sarcastic tinge in his tone to Yashira, Cheni practically gobbles her meatroll at that point, sticking the other half in her pocket. She quietly rises to her feet, daring the other candidates to stop her and heads to the serving station to take her sweet time filling her own mug with klah.

M'silne's eyelids narrow a little; just enough for someone peering at his face to be able to judge. "Did you say something, Kich?" he asks quietly, not breaking his little staring contest with Yash.

N'laren walks in from the bowl.

Yashira breaks the staring contest; she looks down at her plate, slices some more wherry, and guides it to her mouth.

N'laren strides in confidently, with an air of satisfaction on his countenance, and heads straight to the food table.

N'var wanders in from the bowl, clearing his throat quietly and waving a greeting to those nearest his path. "Evening," he says, making his way to the food table and fixing himself some dinner.

Yashira's shoulders stiffen.

Cheni walks past the Weyrleader, nodding politely, then past N'laren, and then past Yashira's table all together as she decides to sit in her proper place, the candidates table. The meatroll gets pulled out of her pocket again and she nibbles away at it, watching the action.

Kichevio said nothing. And will continue to say nothing, especially with all the stiff shoulders and sharp comments circling the cavern tonight. She shakes her head to M'silne, nods and smiles at the Weyrleader, and can just be heard to take a deep breath as N'laren joins the throng. Oh boy.

M'silne's eyes flick towards the latest hello and his posture betters considerably. "Evening, Weyrleader," he murmurs, bringing one hand up in a decent salute. It slinks back onto his lap afterwards, leaving him to nurse his mug of klah in a sort of awkward silence, listening to his own breaths. Oh look. It's N'laren.

N'var has an absent smile for Cheni and Kich, his mind most notably on acquiring his food. Balancing his plate, he manages to return the salute and add a slight nod. The tension, otherwise, seems to elude him. A slight whistle escapes his lips as he finally settles into his seat.

Yashira looks up and nods to N'var, then returns her attention to her food.

Kichevio is the Impartial Observer. Someone has to be. So when the devastation is over, she can stagger out and be the "I along have escaped to tell you" person. So she waits, to see which of the three will snap first, and the rest of the watchers can finally find out what all the tension is over.

Cheni ventures to ask the impartial observer, in a voice low enough it might not be heard. She mutters to Kichevio, "... think... something... I'm... I... I don't need... tell me when... if I should duck? "

Kichevio senses "Cheni ventures to ask the impartial observer, in a voice low enough it might not be heard. "I think I'm missing something here, and I'm rather glad for once that I am, I don't need details, really, just tell me when and if I should duck? ""

F'lone walks in from the bowl.

M'silne gives N'laren a simple tip of the head in greeting. Nothing horribly amiable, of course, but it's better than the daggers he and Yashira appear to be looking at each other with. "So. Aren't you going to ask me?" he inquires of Yash, taking another gulp of klah.

N'laren finishes loading his plate, and turns to look around and see who's at the Skyfire table. Kichevio is given an engaging smile and wink, and the smile also leaks over to the candidate talking to Kich. A nodded salute to N'var, and other than that, no one seems to catch his attention, until he sees F'lone, whom he also nods to.

Yashira is seated at one of the tables, eating her dinner slowly and neatly. She looks up at M'silne, murmuring, "Ask you what? How you are? I already did. You answered. Would you like to change your answer?" A pause, and a sigh, and she murmurs, "How are you?"

F'lone walks in, his jacket bundled tightly from the freezing air. He nods to those he passes as he makes his way to the serving table to pour himself a mug of klah.

Kichevio answers Cheni softly, though her vague gestures of explanation don't point to anyone in particular. For safety's sake.

M'silne waits for Yash to resolve the already-did bit for herself, poised to deliver a nicely sarcastic rejoinder if need be. Thankfully, it needn't. "I'm okay. The same. Maybe a little worse." He clears his throat, then drains more klah down it. "I, uh. Haven't been out much."

Kichevio whispers "I don't know any more than you do. I'm assuming that Yashira and M'silne got into a fight over Yash sleeping with N'laren, which she only did because Decarath caught Sussurath when she rose. So it's a silly thing to fight over, but--I don't know. Duck if Yash starts yelling.""

F'lone nods to N'laren before turning back to the serving table to pile a plate high with food, wherry, tubers, greens. After he gets everything on his plate, he turns towards the Skyfire table, balancing his plate and mug as he walks over and sits down.

"I don't recommend it," Yashira informs M'silne, rather inexplicably. She pauses, and murmurs, "Have you seen ...Iralne?"

N'var fiddles with the food on his plate a little, as is his way, and eats fairly slowly. The conversation catches his attention, and he looks up at Yashira and M'silne over the lip of mug while taking a sip. "Evening F'lone," he says, as the bundled rider comes in.

M'silne nods twice. "Yeah. I, uh...Karina's been pretty nice. About things. I think maybe I want to take Ira on a trip somewhere, make sure she doesn't get too used to snow." He looks at Yash hesitantly, appearing for a moment to be a little boy asking a favor. "Maybe."

F'lone mumbles something under his breath as he sits down across from N'laren. As he's greeted, he turns and nods. "Evening, sir." he greets the Weyrleader, not having actually met him face to face yet.

Yashira blinks a couple of times, then nods. "Of course. That might be nice. Where were you thinking of going with her?"

M'silne expression softens into a tiny smile that hangs around for just a moment before getting swallowed up behind his klah mug, not to return. "Um, I hadn't figured that part out yet. Maybe South Boll. Maybe back home, it's still pretty warm there, and I know my sister still wants to see her."

Yashira tries to smile a little herself, and nods. "That sounds... good. Either of them. Yes, good."

N'laren grins to F'lone over his klah mug. "I hear congratulations are in order," he suggests to the brownrider.

N'laren chuckles, "Or would you prefer condolences?"

Kichevio relaxes, marginally, at the appearance of smiles. However brief, smiling is usually a good sign. She blinks at N'laren, concentration diverted, then to F'lone. Something new?

F'lone turns back towards his plate just as N'laren speaks. He grins and nods. "Thanks. We never realized that it would happen the first time." he comments before starting on his meal.

"Yeah. I thought so." M'silne picks his mug up, puts it down, then picks it up again and just clutches it close to him, nursing the empty cup. Nothing else to say immediately, he looks awkwardly off into the distance, as though a certain rock wall were to have become especially exciting presently.

Yashira exhales a little, and murmurs, "When did you want to take her...?" to M'silne, watching him watch the wall.

N'laren knits his brows for moment, then chuckles. "Well, yes, congratulations on that, too. I hadn't heard whether or not it was certain, yet."

N'var leans back in his chair, his meal momentarily forgotten as he picks up part of the conversation. "Congratulations?" he asks, looking over at N'laren and F'lone. "What happened?"

"Dunno," M'silne informs the wall. "I'll, uh, let you know. Want to...feel a little better, first."

F'lone looks at N'laren, a bit confused. "Oh. That. Thanks." he says, realizing his mistake and chuckling. At N'var's question, he turns towards the Weyrleader. "Mirielle's pregnant." he says. "And I got a promotion, though temporary." he says before taking a drink from his mug.

Cheni digests something Kichevio whispered to her and her eyes go as wide as saucers as she looks between N'laren, M'silne and Yashira. Then they find safety in examining a minute crack in the rim of her klah mug.

Kichevio manages not to splutter into her klah, then grins at F'lone. "Congratulations on both counts," she says, lifting her mug in a mock-toast. "Ready to be called 'Dadda' yet?"

Yashira's head bobs. "Mmmn. Right. I can understand that, I think." She nudges some tuber around on her plate, then stands up abruptly. "Congratulations," she says to F'lone, gaze immediately flicking back to M'silne with a bit of warmth. And then she turns and strides stiffly toward the bowl.

N'var smiles at the first news, eyes bright. The second he already knew about, and so it elicits no more than a simple nod. He watches Yashira walk out, the smile fading a little bit.

F'lone nods. "Thanks, Yash." he says, watching her head towards the bowl before turning back to Kichevio. "Well. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure. I hope I am." he says with a light shrug.

"Congratulations, F'lone," M'silne says, tone flagging a bit. He turns to watch Yashira stride out, then sets his mug delicately on the table and slumps forward, cheek to the wood and eyes tightly shut.

F'lone leans a bit towards N'laren and mumbles, "Those are the first decent words I've heard from her in a long time." he says, looking back towards the bowl where Yashira just exited.

N'laren raises an eyebrow at F'lone's comment, opens his mouth, then after a long, agonizing moment clamps his lips together again and merely nods.

As the tension seems somewhat diffused, Cheni decides it's safe enough to venture to the serving tables and helps herself to a late supper of fish and greens. She heads back to the candidates table, looking around the room to see who has come in and out since she had become so focused on the earlier mini-drama.

Kichevio looks at M'silne, and tentatively pats his slumped head. "Hey," she says gently. "You're talking. It'll get better from here on out." We all hope and trust.

The first response that comes from M'silne is a very muffled, "Thanks, Kich." He lifts his head then, running a hand through his hair a few times. "Uhm. Sorry to make you all watch that." He turns slowly red as he looks around, making appropriate mental notes of whom it might be wise to avoid in the near future. "I...think I'm going to take a nap." Never mind the quantity of klah he just swilled. "G'night. Everyone." Bobbing his head at people randomly, he pushes back from his seat and starts to head out.

F'lone looks at N'laren, as if waiting for him to say something. When he doesn't, he gives a slight grin and begins slicing pieces of his wherry.

Cheni shakes her head at M'silne and mutters. "Can't be helped when we live in tight quarters, hope all goes well." She purses her lips, as a sudden thought races through her head. “I suppose in the long hard winters of Telgar, tensions can run high?"

N'var has taken to simply watching. He tries to do so unobtrusively, and without creating discomfort. When M'silne takes his leave, he nods, and offers a goodnight. "Sleep well."

Kichevio answers blandly, as she too stands and makes ready to head for her weyr. "Unless those tensions are eased, but whatever means are available, then yes. Things can get edgy. Hazard of the trade. 'Night everyone, congratulations again, F'lone. Get some rest, M'silne."

"The long, hard summers at Igen don't help," M'silne notes cryptically as he exits. "G'night."

N'laren looks up, "Kich, you're leaving?" he asks plaintively.

Kichevio smiles wryly over her shoulder. "Sleep becomes necessary, Nik," she explains with a sigh. "Not even klah can keep it away for long."

N'var nods, too, to Kichevio. For a moment he hesitates, looking as if he might ask her a question. In the end, he decides against and simply bids her goodnight.

N'laren shrugs with mock sadness. "Sleep well, then," he tells her.

Cheni shrugs as M'silne leaves. "Don't know much about Igen, lots of sand, that's about all I saw." She makes her way through a good portion of her supper, not eating swiftly but not taking her time either. She does look up to smile gratefully to Kichevio. "Thanks for explaining things."

N'var glances over at the candidate that spoke, his discerning gaze settling more heavily on her. "You've been to Igen?" he asks.

Shawnah steps lightly into the living cavern, the grin on her face way too cheerful for this late hour. She does hesitate at spotting so many in the cavern, but quickly heads for the serving table, grabs a mug of something, and heads for the candidates' table. "Evenin'" she greets in general.

Cheni nods respectfully. "Yes sir, only for an evening, when the last weyrling class had an aerial display, I was there briefly while my lord holder was in a meeting with someone. I snuck out to watch the show, it was something else." Her eyes sparkle. "Was something else to see when they all flamed. I don't usually see that many dragons at once." She raises a weary hand in greeting to Shawnah. "Good evening'" She moves over to make room for her fellow candidate.

N'laren turns to smile at Shawnah as she greets, and leans back, meal finished, to listen to other conversations. -Now- he takes an interest in things going on outside his own wing's table.

N'var's smile widens. He nods, pushing up from his chair and taking his mug with him. He makes his way toward the Candidates' table, greeting Shawnah as he approaches. "I watched it from my ledge," he explains. "I was at Igen, then. It's where I'm from. There's more to it than sand, really. but I can see how that's all one might see, if their visit is brief."

"I didn't mean to make light of the area, I do hear the sunsets are nice there." Cheni back pedals just a little. "I was there a few days later to pick up an article my lord holder left behind that he needed rather badly and impressed Stunning here." She gestures to the napping green firelizard that nestles around her neck. "Do you find it hard here, sir? I mean, fitting in to a new home?"

Shawnah grins down at Cheni before plopping into her seat. "It was snowing earlier.. did you see it?" and she actually sounds /happy/ about that. "It really is a bit early yet. But.." she trails off, and then tilts her head toward N'var. "Igen?" she asks, "I've a friend from Igen. It's... hot there." she comments, "Though I suppose it's a lot hotter where he's at now, with all that /black/ sand.."

N'var waves a dismissive hand at Cheni. "No, I took no offense. Honestly." At the question, he shakes his head. "Telgar's been my home before. It's different, sure, but there are certain elements here that make it easy to call Telgar home."

A nod to the bowl and then to Shawnah speaks that the Southern Boll girl did hear it snowed. "I stayed inside. I wasn't going out -there- without a really good reason. It was -snowing out-. Really snowing. White stuff, falling from the sky. I wasn't prepared so I didn't go out." She grins N'var's way. "Ah then, it wasn't as if you were coming to a new home and a new position all at once."

N'var looks amused at the talk of snow. He nods Cheni's way, chuckling quietly.

Shawnah quirks a brow, grinning slightly as she takes a small sip of her drink. "Oh, but it's /snow/.. you have to go out in it one day, especially when it's all gentle like that. It's just.. fun. I promise. And really not as cold as you'd think." a curious glance is sent about the cavern, to those being so silent. But then, it's late.

N'laren chuckles at Shawnah, "first snow of the season will do that," he says agreeably. "wait until the 100th snow, though," he promises as he drains a bit more klah from is mug.

N'var agrees with N'laren by grinning a bit. "Especially when the 60th through the 100th come one day after the next, and simply piles up til you can walk to the bowl off your ledge." The exaggeration is lightened with a wink.

"100th snow?" Cheni echoes weakly. "OH well, it's something to write home about, I guess." She sighs wistfully. "I did go out today for a walk, the colors of the trees were lovely. I even gave someone a meatroll I had tucked aside for my lunch I felt so good about it." Even she doesn't fall for that exaggeration and she giggles at N'var's humour.

Shawnah chuckles lightly, "Oh, true.." she agrees with N'laren, "By mid-winter I'll be bored out of my mind, and the duck'll be driving me crazy enough to want to give in and have some nice, warming duck-soup, but I'll enjoy it for now." that's said with a decisive nod.

N'var sets his mug down on the table and begins to buckle up his jacket in order to head out. "Enjoy your dinner," he says to the Candidates, amiably. N'laren gets a nod, as well, and he walks toward the bowl.

Shawnah nods back to N'var. "Night, sir!" she calls.

N'laren nods, and salutes N'var. "Night, sir," he echoes.

Cheni nods to N'var once again. "Good night sir." She sighs as she pushes her plate away. "That was rather good, but I suppose I should be heading out as well." She does a bit of a double-take at Shawnah, however. "You wouldn't cook your duck would you?"

Shawnah just grins back at Cheni. "I'd say it was debatable... except Schmitt would cook /me/ if she found out." she nods then. "Alrighty. G'night!"

Cheni mutters as she picks up her plate. "Ducks, snow, uneaten meatrolls. Weyrs!" Depositing her plate in the place all dirty plates go, she heads out.



*** Disconnected from PernMUSH ***

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