Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Tucked into a glowlit niche are Pollina, Tiramisu, Dogma, Sun, RazorThorn, Litza, Tristano, Nimble, Leimur, Kelpie, Searcher, Maksim, Tirone, Donnan, Butterfly, Aisling, Verlege, Zalia, Kyrus, Miki, Antietam, Maxwell, Tremayne, Smirk, Nallah, Kythe, Titania, Ozu-Zarkh, Oceanus, Pannimo, Denim, Vincent, Buffy, Faboook, Popacateptl, and Maki.
You see Old Auntie sit-by-the-fire, Brat, Fruity White Wine, Missy, Fantastic Triple Layer Bubbly Surprise, Saphron, sketch, Endymion, Dustina, Pillowy Thing, Azlan, Big Draggie Banner, Cait, Sith, Mog, and Glass Rose here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl     Kitchens     Inner Caverns     Crafting Area

Mayir arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

It's afternoon - and time for Lis' mid-afternoon post-post-lunch snack. The greenrider is lounging in a nice cool corner of the caverns, conveniently close to the kitchens. And what should be in her lap, but a nice pile of creampuffs? "'Lo Mayir!" she greets the steward, waving her pastry-free hand at the man.

GarLis. But that's all right. Mayir is quite the eater himself. But pushing paper keeps him in top Steward form. He creeps towards Lis, peering at her creampuffs. "Hi, Lis," he says, disractedly. "You gonna share those..?" To the pressing issues.

Lis has a son - and thusly an excuse to be busy and necessitating high-calorie intake. "Of course, Mayir. I couldn't eat them all myself - at least, not when you're eyeing them like a starving hatchling." The plate is lifted from her lap, held out on one hand towards the hungry one.

The hungry one takes the creampuff and uhm. Devours it. But in the dantiest way possible! licking some cream from his lips. "Thanks," Mayir comments. "How are you?"

The true creampuff connaisseur eats hers with style, pastry covering nibbled off as the helps herself the cream inside. "Good enough. Donis practically put himself down for a nap, so I'm guarenteed at least a candlemark or two of free time." Then it's back to sprog-minding for Lis.

Mayir is truly an amateur when it comes to creampuffs. His real experiance is in the field of Cookies. Decision: Soft and chewy are the best. "Oh. Great," he smiles. "What are you going to do with all of that time?"

"Nothing that T'sin is going to get jealous over," Lis informs Mayir in all seriousness, giving the steward a stern look over the edge of her pastry before biting into it. "I'll probably stay near the weyr, maybe see who shows up in the bowl."

Mayir nods his head a little bit, stealing another cream-puff. Around chewing it in his mouth, he mumbles something about: "owwy ambgh lifst nwght." Translate: Sorry about last night.

Lis nibbles on another creampuff thoughtfully, nodding in understanding. "I know you are, Mayir. It was a silly thing for me to do anyway, but I'm sucker for flattery," the greenrider admits sheepishly, head ducked in her embarassment.

A dirty little brat in the corner hoots out a taunt. "Lis is a sucker for a lot of other things, too...." And he scampers off, cackling.

Mayir nods and reaches out to pat Lis's hand gently, shaking his head at the BratComment<tm>. "Ah. Traditional brat," he comments. "But yeah. I guess we were both bad."

Lis directs a very dirty look after the loud child, fingers clenching around a puff until it bursts its innards into her hand. "Ick," is her comment as she nibbles up the rest of the pastry, licking at cream. "Yeah, we are. But I'm trying to be better, and I hope you are, too..."

A quiet little female brat, just a toddler in the corner pipes up her piece. "When I'm bad, the nannies give me a spanking. Why don't Lis gotta have ona those? He should give her a spanking..."

"Yeah. I am, too," comments Mayir as he looks over at Lis and then the brat, then back at Lis. "I don't think he'd like that much either," he mutters at the child's comment.

Lis wings a creampuff at the defenseless child with her clean hand. Not totally defenseless - she's got a big mouth. "He wouldn't. I wouldn't. Nobody spanks me in this weyr unless I ask them to. Which I /don't/," adds the rider vehemently. Just for clarification.

A little boy brat next to the small brat responds, leering. "Don't you know? Lis can get away with anything. Because outta all the girls in the weyr, she's got the nicest ches-" And a nanny's hand is clapped over his mouth, and he is dragged away.

"He's got a point," the steward mutters, looking over at the greenrider tossing a creampuff with a grin, then shaking his head. "Poor Lis. Infamous even by the youngins."

Lis' arms fold over the 'nicest chest in the weyr' as she glowers first at the boy, then at Mayir for his comment. "Gee, thanks," growls the greenrider.  "As if I didn't have enough trouble already..."

"Sorry," says Mayir, ducking his head in shame as he glances down at the table, fingers brushing over it. Oops. Bad Mayir. Said the wrong thing.

Lis is also a sucker for people who look utterly pathetic, and tones down her glowering into an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Mayir... I just don't like those impudent little children running around this weyr. Most of them aren't to bad," she adds in a musing sort of way.

Iona arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Brat ears heard that. A young boy, messy brown hair hanging in his face, steps forward, pouting. "I'm not im-im-whatever. Is that like what Mommy used to say D'renn was, when he never had kids? And if we're bad, then do you get to spank us?" He leers.

Mayir nods his head a little bit as he looks over at the brat and giggling to himself softly. "No. Actually, the nannies have to do that." Eww. Ugly nannies. That should scare him off if anything.

[FrozenDelights] Auri gawks! That's evil! "What D'renn was when he never had kids"!

With the look of a woman whose just escaped a terrible fate, Iona moves into the living caverns. People about are given a tired acknowledgment- either nod or smile. Pouring a mug of klah, sweetened and creamed, the resident slumps into a comfortable chair with a sigh. Peace!

"I'm not touching /you/ with a half-dragonlength pole," Lis informs the leering brat, narrowing her eyes at him dangerously. "And I'll make sure the oldest, wrinkliest, most wart-covered nanny spanks you 'till you can't scream anymore." Scary, scary greenrider. Iono is looked at with a disturbingly cheery smile - disturbing, after all that.

Oren arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

"Do you like bein' spanked till you can't scream? Huh? Huh?" The leering boy wanders in closer. Maybe she'll touch him with a full-dragonlength pole?

Mayir is just trying to contain gales of laughter. He'll do it. He'll do it. Really. Really. He will. "Not in bed at night," mutters Mayir under his breath to Lis. A rouge giggle escapes.

Lis pins Mayir with a purely evil gaze before turning the same one on the brat. "If I was going to tell anyone about anything I liked doing till I couldn't scream, it wouldn't be you," she informs the brat icily, glare sliding around the caverns at any enterting faces. Who's going to be next?

Iona listens in. More brats. Ugh.Not what her headache needs right now. But she offers Lis a half-smile- it's as much as she can muster right now. Not like her at all to be this touchy. Suddenly she lets out a little yelp as her ferret springs from her sleeve onto the floor to chase after a bug.

Rauve walks in from the Central Bowl.

But as always, a brat is around, this time a little pigtailed girl who pipes up at Mayir's remark. "Does that mean you and Lis had a slumber party? I like slumber parties. 'Cept boys always come in and they're /icky/. What do you /do/ when there's /boys/ at a slumber party?" The little girl just wrinkles her nose. Eeeeew. Boys.

Rauve wanders in, a lopsided (and quite smug) smile curving the asymmetrical line of his mouth. Hay is scattered down the back and front of his attire, and his plait and bangs are littered with it. Apparently not noticing, the boy flops into the nearest unoccupied seat, simply grinning.

"Hey, there." Oren swings in from the lower caverns, cackling while leering at a little brat girl --- she just screams and runs from the room in absolute terror.  "Uh, oops."  Meanwhile, young fiery-haired drinker struggles to maintain a cool, suave appearance while trying to remove the ever-hungry Turk from his ponytail.  Lis is spotted, and the infamous leer now turns upon her.

If there were any doubts about the weyr being a den of iniquity, they're sure washed away in Lis' mind. Between the brats, Oren's rampant leering and Rauve entering smug and hay-covered, the greenrider glares at anything and everything. Mosty at Oren, for lack of better victim.

Iona watches as more people move in. Supressing the feeling to scream at the top of her lungs she wacks on that perky exterior instead. Rauve is given the once over and she scoffs. Too smug for his own good. And as for Oren, well ditto. Her green firelizard creels angrily from the rafters- when her humanpet's in a bad mood, she's in a bad mood!

Rauve lifts a fawn brow toward Lis, but not before giving Iona a flippant, if not mildly suggestive grin. "Hrm... glad everyone's in such wonderful bearings," he murmurs inwardly, stunted nose given to a crinkle.

Oren's response to the glare is a wink and leer, all done smoothly as he picks up the nearest flask of wine.  Rauve is eyed, then a smirk slowly creeps up over his alabaster white face.  /He/ wants to be hay-covered, -too-. "Hey, Rauve," young drinker greets, still smirking unpleasantly, "Who is it /this/ time?"

Lis' eyes widen in a sudden Pia-like expression, emphasized by the words that come out of her mouth, which she brings a hand to after she finishes. "Oh, Rauve... you /didn't/!" There's something hormonal in the weyr of High Reaches. Definately.

Iona shakes her head. She doesn't really want to know the answer to Oren's question. Buffy launches from her perch to divebomb both Oren and Rauve- and with precision she skims close above their heads before pulling up to land neatly on her humanpet's shoulder. Iona grins, and scritches the green for her concern before drowning herself in that mug of klah once more.

Rauve swings slender legs over one arm of his seat, tiny pieces of hay fluttering from his ankles. Erm. "Good afternoon, Oren," he replies, managing a civil nod in the other boy's direction, politely choosing not to answer his query. "Didn't /what/, Lis?" he questions, head tilting innocently. "Keep that flying fleshbag out of my -face-, Iona." Acid tongue accompanies an acid glower.

Oren cackles, but doesn't say anything (thank God) for once, bringing the flask to his mouth.  Heh, like /she/ should be talking.  "Good job, Rauve. Heh heh heh."  He makes an attempt to sweep back red bangs (cool.  Like Derwin.) but fails, Turk having finished chewing his ponytail and moved on to the bangs.  "Uh, excuse me." He says, trying to be courteous as he speaks to Lis.  "But haven't you, uh... " how to put this politely? "....slept with everyone in the Weyr?"  Everyone but /him/, that is.

Iona simply smiles at Rauve. That boy couldn't unsettle her if he tried. Buffy takes up the argument however, creeling and hissing at him- she is not a 'fleshbag'! "Oh there was no harm done Rauve. So be quiet" she chides him in the tone usually reserved for 8 turn old brats. She gulps at Oren's question, and waits for Lis reaction.

Lis is all ready to open her mouth again and grill Rauve, but instead she glares at Oren in horror. "Most definately not!" shrills the greenrider at the boy, standing from her chair in an attempt to loom at him - defeated by a lack of height. "Who told you I did?" demands the greenrider, arms folding with a creak of pink leather across her chest.

It's that annoying little brat again, having escaped the nanny. "Oh /everybody/ knows that greenrider Lis. Everybody always talks about it. See him? And his two girls?" The boy points at Rauve. "That's called pulling a Lis. Yup."

"I don't know... heh heh." Oren laughs ... Oren-ly.  "I hear things... heh heh.... you got quite a reputation.  Heh heh.  Hey...." A pause, while he thinks it over -- wouldn't do to lose the thought while he was talking, you see? -- and then, "Hey, I wanna know... did you and Derwin, you know, ever do a little......... somethin'-somethin'....?"

Rauve flexes his shoulders, eyes rolled wryly. "I'll be quiet when I choose to be quiet, Iona. In the meantime, I will ask you politely not to treat me as if you were my mother. You are -not-," he murmurs in reply, voice specifically baleful in it's toneless timbre. "Oh Oren, gather your own information before you go off spouting comments that prove nothing but your fatuity." Arms cock back against his seat as his ankles cross, a piece of hay placked from his bangs.

... and somewhere around here, Lis got disgusted and stormed out, since she had to go to bed.