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Igen Weyr Infirmary
The scent of numbweed permeates the Weyr's infirmary, a remarkable cavern with room for both dragon and human patients. The outer part of the cavern has one stone couch for a dragon unable to fly up to his or her Weyr, and a dragon sized tub of water at the ready. The inner section of the cavern holds three or four cots for humans, with wooden screens that can section off a particular cot. Along the easternmost wall, shelves have been built as tall as a person could reach and nearly 10 feet long, which contain all sorts of scrolls, herbs, concoctions, and other healer accoutrements.
The warm breeze to the west comes from the large opening into the Bowl. A desk sits next to the opening to the south, which leads to the Weyr's Living Caverns.

U'yn peeks into the infirmary. It's not a place of comfort for him. He tiptoes past the draconic area, moving surreptitiously towards the human area. He peeeeeks into the inner section.

Joshi is relaxed on her cot. In her lap, a small baby firelizard is curled up. This late in the evening, her brown is sleeping in a bowl, and there's a clay pot in the corner near Joshi's cot. Joshi herself, is working at oiling a very smug, mature green firelizard, who nips a finger to remind her where the sensitive spots are. "Brat," Joshi says. It's a tired namecall.

Joshi
Tall she is, around 5'8", much of which is comprised of a pair of long, lithe legs that look to have seen their share of activity. They're toned and shapely, and no small miss she is with sturdy, strong bones. Sun-stroked hair of honey brown has been kissed by light many times until blond strands blend within the warm toasted brown panting gilded highlights of gold through the straight tresses. The thick length of it has been layered, along with a thick fringe of banges on her forehead. The shiny locks fall just below her shoulder blades, the ends curling up gently. Expressive, thin eyebrows arch over almond shaped eyes. Her eyes constrast to the lighter length of her hair, their color a deep ebony that shines with midnight clarity. She has Roman features, a fine jaw line highlighted by graceful, high cheekbones. Her nose, though a bit long seems to suit her features, including full lips tinted by a hint of mauve in their coloring.

Her hair has been braided in a thick braid, wrapping over her shoulder to stay off the pillows as she lays in the infirmary. Her hospice gown is rather plain and boring, white with a tiny budding flower print, something she might tell you she abhors as an aside. Her legs have been covered by a thin white sheet, except her wounded thigh, the dressing which is clean and white, surrounding her left upper thigh. It wraps around the knee and then back up, to carefully cover the bite she received on the sands. She keeps it uncovered to let it breathe, one shapely long calf revealed on her bed, stark amidst the white sheets.

U'yn steals a little further closer to the cot. "Uhm," he says. Then tacks on a, "Hi, there."

Aisha looks over at Rulyn, now U'yn and grins, She's having a bit of trouble getting the honorific right but she tries anyways, "Hi U'yn." She greets.

U'yn doesn't always associate that name with himself, still. A slanting peek over his shoulder assures him that no U'yn's lurk nearby, and with a foolish grin, he repeats, "Hi."

"Hello U'yn," Joshi trips over it, first trying to say Ruin, but finally manages U-in, or some thereabouts of Ewan, "How are you today? Something happen to bring you here?"

U'yn nods solomnly. "You," he says to the injured stablehand. "I mean, I know several weyrlings have been in to visit, and I didn't want you thinking I was the snotty one, or anything," he says. A quick hand appears from behind his back. "Cheese roll? It's fresh."

"Naw, thanks," Joshi ducks her head down. "I wish they'd quit worrying and stuff. As soon as I am able, I'm gonna leave this place, and go riding again." She looks up. "Say, what is your bronze's name anyhow? Don't think I caught it."

U'yn has no choice, now, but to eat that darn cheese roll, what a shame that is. But he can't just stand around holding it, of course. "I'd want out, fast, too, if I were you," he agrees, gently, then can't keep the hint of pride out of his voice. "He's Kismith. I measured him past eight paces, today, when I was oiling him."

"I've heard they grow fast," Joshi nods. "But then so do firelizards and runners, faster than you're ready for." She grins.

Aisha suddenly looks curiously up at Joshi, "I'm sure you'll be up and riding soon enough. Oh and by the way do you think it would be safe for me to ride Grey Dawn yet? I've been walking her by lead rope but I haven't ridden her yet." Seh then looks over at U'yn and grins, "Kismith huh? That's a nice name." She comments and then she turns to Joshi again, "By the way I forgot to mention something. It seems that in three sevendays Grey Dawn might be giving birth to a foal." She says grinning a bit.

U'yn agrees, half way through that cheese roll. "Even babies. M'little brother's gotten big, I hear, since I left home." He inclines his head in respect to Aisha's news. "Even baby runners," he adds. Then asks Joshi, "You're healing up right fine, then?"

Mirala enters from the Living Caverns.
Mirala has arrived.
Mirala trots in, sniffing, peeing from right to left. "Hi Igenites," she chirps.

IGEN-> Mirala is PEERING. PEERING. >_<
IGEN-> Joshi BUrsts into laughter
IGEN-> Joshi would not have noticed if you hadn't said anything that's how tired I am
IGEN-> Mirala pats poor Joshi.

Mirala tilts her head, looking about. "Who's the Healer on duty?" she inquires, hopping up on a stray ledge and swinging her feet in the air.

Joshi glances over at Mirala and says "A'deth is normally here this late at night, although he's the dragon healer." She goes on to name some journeyman for being the healer at this time of the night.

Joshi also nods to U'yn. "As far as I know. The healers say it looks promising, just the wounds were deep where that creature bit me." She doesn't say the name of the dragon at all.

A frown momentarily crosses the Baker's features. "No, I don't think a dragonhealer would do it. A journeyman probably would, though. I'll have to go whistle for him." Mirala leans in, beaming, "I want t'see if I'm going to spawn!"

U'yn flashes a relieved grin at Joshi, then blinks at the (reportedly mad) baker and says, respectfully, "I hear dragonhealers make fine fathers, too, ma'am."

IGEN-> Joshi says, "Oh so that's who timothy told t'asu to sell me to"
IGEN-> Joshi couldn't figure out who the 'mad baker' was
IGEN-> Terrilia says, "Definitely Mirala."
IGEN-> Mirala chortles at Joshi. "Fear the Mad Baker, lass! FEAR!"
IGEN-> U'yn is regularly stalked and otherwise tormented by a redheaded madman. So I keep a close eye on madness.
IGEN-> Joshi runsaway

Joshi is tired, although for a moment, she looks, terrified of the /mad/ baker. But that wears off soon enough. Someone must have slipped fellis juice in her drinks because she's starting to look dopey.

Mirala blinks at U'yn, then shakes her head, frowning a bit. "No... I don't believe it could've been A'deth, I'm fairly certain we never... no, probably not him. Besides, aren't he and T'jas together?" She waves her hand in the air.

U'yn is leaning against the wall, and seems to be watching the injured stablehand fall asleep. It's a rather interesting sight to see, not something he's watched much. His shoulders slant in a shrug, "You'd know better than I would, ma'am," he says.

Mirala pauses, then nods. "I suppose you wouldn't know if A'deth and I -- well! I suppose there's not much to do tonight if the Healers are busy. Maybe I'll go make spawning-pie to encourage it."

Joshi is definitely falling asleep. *Thunk* her head doesn't hit the pillow /that hard/ but then there's a healer aide putting the covers over her and shooing away the visitors to let the patient rest.
Joshi has disconnected.

U'yn is being actively shooed, but he's interested, though he keeps that interest mild, yes he does. "Spawning-pies help how?" he inquires, even as he's getting shoved towards the door.

Mirala beams, "You know... show the unborn spawn how tasty pies are, encourage it to be born, that sort of thing."

U'yn's interest continues, "Are these pies different than other pies?"

Mirala considers. "Well," she says thoughtfully, "They're especially good. And especially sugary, of course."

U'yn is now far enough away from the sleeping patient that the healer's aid is no longer actively pushing him out the door. "Are they dangerous or otherwise..." he considers his words, "impactful for those not already spawning? Or for men?"

Mirala blinks, then smiles largely. "Say, I know of a way we could find out...!"

U'yn considers. Two different things weigh heavily on his mind. Pie. That large smile. Both tug his inclinations in different ways. But for the moment, he doesn't seem to be at risk of bodily harm or any inconvenient weyrling spawning activity, so he says, "Yes?"

Mirala cackles merrily, if a tinge evilly. "Wonderful!" she chirps, and, dragging the rider by the wrist, heads for the kitchens.

Mirala walks out to the busier Living Caverns.
You head out into the crowded living cavern.

Mirala dips a her head to K'gen as she passes to the kitchens, U'yn in tow. "We're off to make spawn," she says. Or something rather like that.

K'gen blinks a bit, and nods, "Have fun."

"...ing pies," she calls over her shoulder, and passes through the arch.

Mirala wanders into the Weyr's kitchens.

IGEN-> Mirala loves how supportive Igen is. ;)

U'yn is dragged by the wrist. He blinks a little. He really had pie on his mind, and those words just can't help but cause unexpected spasms of fear. But yet. That grip on his wrist. The lure of pie.

You wander into the Weyr's kitchens.

Igen Weyr Kitchen
Igen Weyr's kitchen is known throughout Pern for many of its exotic dishes, and it is easy to understand why for anyone in this room. Cooks and servants bustle about, preparing both plain and unusual dishes for the weyrfolk, and the odors which greet all noses have a tendancy to make stomach grumble in anticipation!
The room is oblong, with fire pits located near the center of the south wall. Water falls from a pipe in the north wall, and is collected in a large cauldron.

"Okay!" the Baker croons, in her element at its utmost. "To make pies!" Mirala shoves U'yn onto a stool, then turns to her personal counter, hands flying to assemble various bowls of fruit, flour, eggs, and a great bowl of sugar.

U'yn gets dragged, despite his lil spasms of fear. Oh, and shoved, too, and nothing if not compliant, he perches his rear upon a stool. Such an impressive flurry of flour, eggs, and pie-ish things! "So," he ventures, rather uncertain--does one interrupt a pie-artist at work? "These spawning pies--They are radically different or are the differences more subtle?"

Mirala begins automatically kneading and rolling out the dough, fingers dancing through the mixture like those of an experienced lover. She begins tossing berries and sugar together, then pauses, contemplating the soon-to-be filling. "Hmm. Spawning pies, spawning pies. What does one add to a spawning pie?"

Mirala wipes her hands on her apron and turns to gaze at U'lyn. "Oh, subtle differences, I'd imagine, for there are certain paths of pie that one must follow. Though the outcome could be radically different, dependent upon the person. I haven't actually made these, yet," she allows. Then she looks back to the bowls. "Spawning pies... eh... what is it that proddy women like to eat?"

"At Telgar," offers the young man, helpfully, "It's often raw meat, or at least rare and hard-to-find meat products."

Mirala taps a finger against her chin. "Proddy... preggers... lots of blood, among other things..." the baker comes to a sudden realization, tossing aside the bowl of berries, "These oughn't be fruit pies! They ought to be meat pies!" And with the rider's echo, she beams, justified. "Right, my dear! Shall we begin with wherry?"

U'yn bobs his head in solomn agreement. "Wherry is a fine place to start." Then, a little worried, "You're /not/ going to include tunnelsnake, are you?"

Mirala ducks into the cool meat storage area, pulling out a rather large leg of wherry. She deftly skins it, pulling off the feathery sheath, traces of dried green ichor spotting the feathers. She begins slicing off extremely fine slivers of the wherry meat, arranging them in a heap. She looks up at U'yn and frowns, "Whyever not? Not fond of it?"

U'yn is not a lad of faint stomach, having worked several of his young turns in tanneries. Even if he was, he's now been initiated into slicing up his own meat to feed his lifemate, so he watches the skinning process with interest. He may well be skinning a wherry, one day soon, himself. "I'd.... prefer not to eat tunnelsnake," he concludes.

Herdbeast, porcine and young ovine follow in rapid succession on Mirala's cuttingboard, each sliced into delicate slivers and tossed in with the growing pile of meat. She returns one more with a young goose, patting its limp and vacant head fondly. "These are a bit harder to lay a hold upon, yet I don't have much trouble. I've a wealth of chickens, too: I used to raise some at Benden - the hold, that is - for them, and they still owe me." And thus, carcasses are skinned, "No use in saving the skin if we're making pies; now, a nice fried goose, with the skin crackling and oily, that'd be another matter," innards removed, "The watch-wher'll love these, and the kitchen dogs, of course," breast-bone chopped apart, and meat picked from the bones, sliced thinly. "Goose and chicken to add to the fowl affair," Mirala cackles.

Mirala rummages in her storing jars and comes up with a stick of jerky. "Here, catch!" she says, tossing it at U'yn.

Mirala explains, "S'wherry jerky. Tell me how you like the seasoning? D'you think it ought to be that spicy, then?" She tilts her head, "Why don't you want to eat tunnelsnake? Y'have a pet?"

Oh! Incoming jerky! U'yn lunges, and manages to catch it midair, wouldn't want to let such a treat land on the floor, not that those kitchen floors are likely anything but sparkling clean, of course. He nibbles, just a test at first, and then a braver bite. "I /like/ spicy," he says, even if it does make him dab at his eyes, just once. "Perfect." Then he mumbles, "Kaylira chased me with a tunnelsnake when I was a kid. Chased me out on the rocks and I fell and hurt my knee and I cried and I was miserable little boy and I guess I just don't like 'em."

Mirala nods approval, "Good. Perhaps not the same sort of spices, though -- a bit of curry, and some citronpepper, and a dash of ginger -- now, for the merinade," she croons. Ducking into the meat cooler yet again, she returns with a large metal pitcher, which she pours carefully into a bowl. It's green, and looks suspiciously like wherry's blood. She adds the spices to the liquid and stirs, then tosses the thinly-cut meat into it. "Eh, old tunnelsnake grudge? Then you ought to rejoice in eating the buggers! Take a big bite and go, "Heh, heh, Mister Nasty Snakeything, how do you like that NOW? Not so tough, are you? EH?!" That's what you ought to do." The baker pulls a jerky from a different jar and offers it to U'yn.

U'yn's not-faint stomach threatens to betray him at the sight of the suspiciously green liquid, but he holds his ground. After all, he's heard plenty of "mad baker" rumours and not single "Igenite perishes from eating" rumour. He takes the jerky, and wonders, "Is /this/ what I'm supposed to rejoice in eating?"

Telgar Weyr> M'silne belts, "U'YN!"
Telgar Weyr> U'yn says, "Rhyme that, shakespeare!"
Telgar Weyr> M'silne says, "I once knew a rider named U'yn! His dragon, t'was not a blue'un. And though this was sad, I couldn't be mad, for his lifemate was a pretty damn cool'un!"

Mirala bobs her head forcefully, "Tunnelsnake is actually quite good! I can get you a freshly caught one, if you'd prefer." She smiles at the meat, allowing it to sit long enough to absorb the flavour. While the meat soaks, she swiftly cuts the rolled dough into small circles, basting them with softened butter. Once she deems the meat ready, she begins adding little piles of it to the centers of the circles, topping them with another circle, and pinching the edges. Then she lathers more butter over the entire work, and presses a stamp into the tops of the pie dough, leaving the mark of an "M" and a star pattern of round holes across the top. "The meat's pretty thin, so it will cook before the pastry burns," she explains. And after arranging the pies upon a buttered cooking sheet, she slides them into an oven with a red-and-white-mitt-clad hand.

IGEN-> Mirala speeds up time a bit with the marinating and the the baking, but hey, Pernese time is 4x faster. ;)

U'yn eyes the jerky in his hand a long time. Then, to be compliant, as weyrlings must, he does as directed. He yells at the jerky. "Hey there, you despicable snakething! Take that!" Big chomp. "How do you like that?" A little more furious chewing. "Chase me across the rocks, will you?" Another defiant chomp.

Telgar Weyr> U'yn keeps ya'll updated on my kitchen doings, for I know you want to know. Because I do as I am told, I am now yelling at and biting snakeyjerky.
Telgar Weyr> M'silne says, "Snakeyjerky? Is that a medical condition?"
Telgar Weyr> U'yn says, "You heard of turkeyjerky?"
Telgar Weyr> M'silne says, "Like, the processed strings of bird flesh that some people eat?"
Telgar Weyr> Kassima oohs. I've had 'snake jerky!
Telgar Weyr> U'yn has too, now.
Telgar Weyr> M'silne says, "Eeeee."
Telgar Weyr> Yashira says, "Ohdear."

Mirala makes a fist and raises it in encouragement, "There you go! Chew the sucker t'shreds! You're better than he is, and with better cooking skills!" She sets a pot of klah to brewing, adding a few pulls from a skin with the Winecraft's mark, and a few sprigs of mint.

U'yn responds well to encouragement. "We'll see who's crying now, snakey!" *CHOMP* "Now, does that hurt /your/ knees?" *bite* Once the jerky's gone, he's got all that raging snake-biting energy, and nothing to do with it. So he just says, "Kaylira's quite nice, now. Handsome brownrider, she is. Doesn't bring snakes, when she visits."

Mirala pats the weyrling upon the head, nodding. "There you go, lad, see? Tunnelsnake isn't all bad. You've just got to remember who's the one with the steak-knife." She cackles a bit, lifting a brow. "She your kin, or can you go and chase her, then?" Then the baker trots over to check the pies, finding the tops a beautiful golden brown; removing the sheet from the oven, she places it upon the countertop and breaks open of the pies. A warm, strangely alluring scent floods the kitchen: Deep rich spices with flutterings of curry and a few strong, piercing notes from the flesh itself. The strips of meat are tender, cooked through, but with tracings of pink (or pale green) along the center of the slivers. Clear juices lick and lap the edges of the pie-crust, flaky, brown, and buttery. Mirala sets a whole pie upon a plate, then pours a mug of her freshly-brewed klah, and sets them in front of U'yn. "There, now! Tell me what you think, Spawn Pies."

U'yn answers the first question, first. "She's not my kin, but she /is/ Kassima's daughter." As if this is something one must consider carefully. Speaking of consider carefully, the young man, who has a notoriously large appetite and a tendency to pick out the spiciest offerings available, is quite taken by first the scent and then the sight, green trace and all, but he just has to muse, "I'm not violating any weyrling rules, just by eating," another sniff of those spices, "Spawn Pies, am I?"

Mirala cackles, leaning on the edge of the counter. "Oh aye, I know. I was picturing such a chase, mentally: could certainly get bloody, but I'd imagine it'd be worth it. If for nothing than the sheer entertainment value for the spectators. Dearest Kassi and her delightful kin, I wonder if she has any who're still crawling about? Little Mirele will have to have a playmate, after all." She takes a bite of the broken pie, chewing appreciatively. "Mmm, I do think you've succeeded yet again, Master Mirala," she tells herself with humble modesty, and takes a swig of the 'proddy klah.' "Unsurprising, for a Baker of your caliber, charm, and general good looks." The woman cackles again, peering at U'yn. "Do they forbid eating pies? Thank Faranath I never became a rider, then." And it's undoubtedly certain Pern thanks her as well, for its overall well-being. "Though I haven't hidden in naked ladies in there, I don't think. Oi, it must be truly *wretched* to be a weyrling. How on earth do you lads and lasses go that long?"

Telgar Weyr> U'yn says, "Quick, Kassi, how old's your youngest?"
Telgar Weyr> Yashira says, "Quick! QUICK! Aaaaah!"
Telgar Weyr> M'silne sings the Jeopardy music...ON SPEED.
Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Four Turns!"
Telgar Weyr> Yashira flails her arms around, running about.
Telgar Weyr> Yashira calms.
Telgar Weyr> Kassima gahs, sorry, reading _Gates of Sleep_. It distracted me.
Telgar Weyr> Yashira says, "Oh, it wasn't that long."
Telgar Weyr> M'silne pats Yashira on the head. "Less klah for you."
Telgar Weyr> U'yn falls over giggling.
Telgar Weyr> K'ran helps M'silne take away Yashira's caffeine.
Telgar Weyr> Kassima is terrified to ponder what prompts that question. ;)

U'yn can't sit here, smelling those smells, watching the baker enjoy her pie, and waste any more energy on pondering weyrling rules. "Pies," he begins to explain, but then the bite makes it to his mouth. "If spawning's half this good, ma'am," he says, clearly impressed, "I'm not sure how I'll wait two turns, either. But pies are not mentioned once on the big board of rules." Another bite, well appreciated. "Kassima has a lil'un," he offers, "But she's walking and talking and throwing things with skill, if I remember correctly."

Mirala drops a bit of a play-bow at U'yn, "I'm glad you enjoy them, Sir Rider. It fills an old baker's heart with pleasure to know that there are some joys permitted to the weyrlings, and that I may use those to their fullest enjoyment to corrup-- serve the young riders." She taps her chin, "Trying to spawn as good as pies? Well, truth be told, if you go about it correctly, it can be even bett-- ai, how old are you again?" Then she smiles adoringly. "The iddle cuteness has a grasp of projectiles? How darling! Well, I'm sure little Mirulu," she pats her belly, "Will be preocious enough to match her."

U'yn consumes food with an alarming speed all the while managing not to talk with his mouthful. The former he attributes to being a teenaged boy, the latter to a greenrider in Southern who at least instilled that much in him. "I'm seventeen, ma'am," he says, scraping the plate with his fork. "and I dearly hope that this pie accomplishes succesful spawning for you, and a continued lack of spawning for me." He lifts the klah mug appreciatively, "And a precocious grasp of projectiles for the spawn." The young man remains blissfully unaware that the klah he drinks violates weyrling rules.

Mirala slaps the weyrling on the back, "Seventeen turns? You'd rightly be a journeyman, I'd imagine, if you apprenticed young - I certainly did - I don't see how they impose such rules upon you poor dears, I truly don't!" She clucks her tongue, shaking her head in condemnation of such deprivation. "Why, when I was your age, the other journeymen and I used to get the lizzies to steal a few flasks of Red, and we'd slip away and-- well, never you mind that, but it's not proper for such energetic age to do nothing but work. When I rule the weyrs, there'll be an end to that," she proclaims with a disdainful snort. "Even my dear little Sarai, when she was a weyrling, she-- ah, I suppose I really oughn't tell you that," she catches herself. "Want to keep m'post, I do. Not that my beloved Sarai'd throw out her fine baker-friends, now, not really," she assures the boy. She beams down at her belly again. "Thank you; I'm almost certain I shall spawn. And little Mirana will certainly be a clever child! She'll take after her mother."

U'yn splutters his klah at the slap on the back. Even through the sputtering, he leans forward to hear the story of the Red and the slipping away.... Shards, she's not telling. And then, again, denied the story of Sarai. "Perhaps you ought to tell me," he encourages, for hope springs eternal. Or perhaps just emboldened by the slight touch of emboldening-agent in his klah.

Mirala chortles, gathering the pies onto a plate to set into the warming oven. "Oh, I'm sure you and your clutchkindred can find plenty of your own mischief -- though I will tell you: not all of the stains on Benden Hold's ceiling are my fault," she winks. "Mmm, I imagine it's been time enough for a duty-change, and a healer's probably back. I'm going to go make certain of my feelings, though I'm sure I'm with spawn, I am!" She chuckles to herself, in an undertone, "Certainly been tempting it enough, these past few fortnights." She grins again at the boy, "Feel free to help yourself to the traditional bubblies, I made a batch before I went off searching for the healer eariler. Feel free to sneak them all back to the barracks, if you want. I shall leave you with a saying that I found most useful in the days in which I was subject to other people's rules: 'What they don't know can't hurt you.'"

U'yn drains his klah in time to say, "Oh!" About stains, and then, more intelligently, "Oh!" about bubblies. Then he gathers his manners about him, and says, "My thanks, ma'am, I may do that. Though definately not spawning pies. And I assure you, when we start to do messenger duty, I'll be looking /up/ at Benden Hold. Ah, clear skies and good health to you and that lil spawn, ma'am."

Mirala beams at the young rider, then strides out of the kitchen.

Mirala heads out into the noise of the Living Caverns.

Mirala has left.

From afar, Mirala cackles s'more. Mirala's not just mad -- she's evil. (Or maybe it's not that she's mad, so much as she's misunderstood and evil. ;) S'fun pietime! Ni-night.
 

From Igen Rumourmill:

12. Did you HEAR that mad baker, as she dragged one of our newest bronzeriders into the kitchen? No, no, I could hear her clearly, she was cackling with glee as she said, "We're going to make Spawn." Right, and they were in there quite some time, I know you were gone by the time they emerged. First, she came out, looking quite satisfied. A few minutes later, the boy staggered out, looking rather stunned. Yes, stunned, I say. Bewildered. And carrying a huge tray of food--all pies--as if he hadn't eaten a thing, that whole time.
Posted on day 31, month 8, turn 40 of the 10th pass.