Wednesday,
February 13, 2002
Main
Living Cavern (#551J)
Grey
stone arches a vast vault overhead, details of the ceiling all but disappearing
in the shadows cast by warm, human-height glowsconces and the night hearth's
flames; tapestries texture the smooth walls, looking down upon the raised dais,
the expanse of tables, the flagstones left cleared for impromptu dancing.
A
single broad archway, its carved pattern worn soft with time and passersby's
touch, leads west into the bowl; two more, narrower but just as tall, give
access to the bustle of living caverns in the south. Predominant looms the
builders' masterpiece: the imposing staircase that twines up along the northern
wall, leading to the weyr's huge kitchens.
Vintner
Harry busies himself behind the 'bar'; nearby hangs the day's 'menu'.
You see
Sinaqui and Veran here.
K'rali
is here.
Obvious
exits:
Bowl Lower Caverns Stairs Weyr
Tunnel
K'rali
strolls, sashays, whatever-you-like, but she won't walk in any ordinary
way. And there's no K'rali-way either,
because it changes every day.
"Wingleader?" she calls from across the cavern, weaving her
way through tables and chairs.
"Oh, Wingleader mine..." A Sentinel brownrider, leaning back
in his chair, gives his eyes an elaborate roll; K'rali sweetly kicks the leg of his chair just hard enough to put
him in peril of falling to the floor.
K'rill
is just emerging from the shadows of the lower caverns, a most perplexed look
to his face as he brandishes a mug of some liquid or another before him. He
makes it two steps in before he hears his voice, spoken by that notable voice.
And so there he stands in mid-step, peering at her, "Yes?"
K'rali
is all angelic innocence. "I was
wondering if you took care of that little thing we talked about." Bluerider beams luminously at K'rill, hands
clasped, just short of a coo.
K'rill
blinks benignly onto K'rali as he is approached by her. So, there he stands,
sipping at his mystery beverage, quietly considering her. Hrm... how best to go
about this? "Uhh. No?" Should he duck and run now?
K'rali's
a little to quick for that move. Try
the pick and roll instead. "Why
not?" That's genuine puzzlement. "I mean, it's not too tall an order for
you, right?" Or anybody for that
matter.
K'rill
eases to the side, moving towards a table to pull out a chair for her. A hand
sweeps down, indicating for her to sit, if she so will. "Refresh my
memory, K'rali. You know how slow some of us bronzers can be... what exactly do
you want me to do?"
K'rali
does so will, and sinks into the chair with her gaze trained trustingly on
K'rill. "Well, I want a boy. We talked about this, remember? I /really/ want a boy." Blink, blink, blink go widened green
eyes. "And you did say that you'd
be there for me if I needed anything."
K'rill
continues to stand there, fingers wrapped about the back of the chair. He leans
forward, speaking just over K'rali's shoulder. "Unfortunately, K'rali...
the deed has already been done. But, if the child ends up being a girl, I'd be
more than happy to try again for a boy?" Bronzer, ayep.
K'rali
is straight-up shocked. It takes a
moment for her to find words.
"You--you won't do this for me?
This little favor? I know you
can just pull a few strings...Talk to Tarin!
That's it. Tarin can do it, right?" Open mouth, insert foot--not that she
realizes it. "Or better yet,
Gretchen." Oy. "Or Zephre or somebody."
K'rill
blinks, and then blinks again. And then blinks a third time for good measure.
Sweet Faranth! Eh? And so, bronzer releases the chair, coming around to take a
seat beside her, turning it towards the woman. "How... how would you ask
me to do such a thing, K'rali?" Suggestions would be nice, if only for the
amusement factor.
"Well,"
K'rali tells him, eyes widening for dramatic effect, hands lifting to trace
strange runes in the air, "I already did.
Don't you remember? I walked up
to you and said, 'K'rill, I want a boy.'
And that's how I would ask--or did ask, actually." There's that smile again.
K'rill
eyes the exit. Would she give chase if he were to bolt now? Nah, good think
K'rill is a nice guy or something. "K'rali?... I'd be more than happy to
give you a boy. I'd move the heavens and the earth to cause it to
happen..." And then,"... but, I think that is something that is a
little bit out of my realm of influence. Its all chance, dear."
K'rali
plunges onward. "Well, y'know, if
you don't think that Tarin would do you a bit of a favor when in crisis,
there's an alternative. You can just
/tell/ it. I mean, you're supposed to
wield a certain amount of influence, so you just tell it to be a
boy." Serenely, the bluerider
rests a hand on her not-yet-rounded stomach.
K'rill
peers at K'rali, then peers in the direction of her tummy. Pale eyebrows jack
up to his hairline. "You... you can't be serious? You want me to order...
you want me to talk to your...?" Aye, rendered a bit speechless at that
concept.
K'rali
grows a little severe now. "C'mon,
K'rill, you do it every day. Just to a
different person this time, that's all."
Suck it up, ya big baby.
The
things he does for the women in his life.... Gee, just how wrapped about
someone's finger is he? K'rill suffers K'rali with quite the unamused glance,
"What? Here?"
K'rali
isn't amused either--this is /business/, not pleasure, though failure may very
well affect her pleasure in the future.
"Here. Now. C'mon, then, let's get started." She'll even push back from the table a
little, see? It's easier to get at the
bebbe that way.
K'rill
glances about the caverns, before dropping to his knees. Sweet Faranth.
Sweet,
darling, fardling Faranth. WingLeader is on his knees in the caverns for all
and sundry to witness. A hand moves as if to rest on her knee as he mutters,
"You really want for me to do this? You think it might just help?"
K'rali
doesn't bother lowering her voice.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure it will work.
Only, maybe you shouldn't kneel--you look like you're proposing to
me." She smiles down at him,
unaware of the sniggers from nearby Sirocco riders.
K'rill
glances back up to the wingriders, not quite glowering... but instead a rather
smug grin touches his features now. "Feeling a mite jealous about now,
mates?" Yeah, he was the one who got her in this condition, and the male
pride shows. And so, his next words are directed at K'rali's tummy, "You
here that, littling? Your mother wishes for a boy."
This
room transmits to FortLC channel, which is currently listened by K'rill.
"Mulligan,"
K'rali tells him, her face alight with maternal joy. "His name is Mulligan.
Well, go on, tell him more."
"You
hear that, Mull- What?" K'rill sits back on his heels, peering up to
K'rali, "Ohhhh no. I won't be the father of a child whose name is
Mulligan.
No
Mulligan. Doesn't even sound like me."
The joy
dissolves. The gaze hardens to
granite. "Well, it's not
/supposed/ to. /I'm/ the mommy, which
makes it /my/ child. It's supposed to
sound like /me/." The severity melts
as K'rali's eyes glaze over, back in that happy dream. "Mulligan, Kalrania, Mulligan,
Kalrania..." Yeah, a definite
resemblance.
K'rill
continues to gape up at her, "What?... What?" Astonishment continues
to blaze in the depths of his eyes. "Kalrania and Korrill... not Mulligan.
They don't even sound the same." And so, he pushes to his feet, but not
before shouting at her belly. "Go ahead, do what you will child... be a
girl." If only not to be named Mulligan.
K'rali
gasps the gasp of one who's been mortally insulted, forcefully shoving her
chair back as she also rises to her feet.
"What? Don't /say/ that,
he'll /hear/ you!" ex-harper warns, but the damage has been done. She draws herself up to her full height,
smoldering, hands splayed protectively over her stomach. "You--you--" Veran wanders near, gazing up at her with
wide eyes. K'rali visibly chokes on her
words and takes a moment to hastily amend them. "You /Wingleader/!" she hisses. Now there's an insult to be heard 'round the
Weyr.
K'rill
erupts to his feet as well, knocking over the chair we was sitting in just a
moment ago with a resounding crash. "I'll be sent between before any child
of mine is called /Mulligan/! Mark my words, K'rali!" He would roar some
more, but then Varen shows... and he holds his tongue as well. Wingleader eh?
And he leaps upon that, "Exactly! And as your Wingleader I order you /not/
to name our child's name... Mulligan." Hah. Take that.
Furiously,
K'rali glares at Veran and points a finger towards the Kitchens. She repeats the gesture twice before the
child toddles off. "I
/refuse/," she cries defiantly, shaking an irritating curl out of her
face. "And I'll go ::between::
before our child's name is anything else." Civil disobedience, that's K'rali's motto.
Milligan
enters from the Bowl.
K'rill
takes a long step up to her as Veran leaves, "Ohhh! But that's just it,
you /can't/ go between. And if I have to I'll not only ground you, but move you
into my weyr to teach you the error of /Mulligan/'s ways." He nearly
growls, "I'll show you the glory of the merging of our names, and what
grand sounds they can produce."
Milligan
slides in with a gracious stride. He whistles slightly. Not uncertain, just not
loud. "Eh? Is that MY name I hear mispronounced?"
"Oh,
you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
K'rali flares. She wouldn't do
anything so childish as stamp her foot, but she's tempted. "Me in your weyr, eh? Well, I say no! And I also say Mulligan, Mulligan, Mull--" Milligan's entrance stops her in her tracks,
and she swivels his way. A moment
before realization arrives. "A
real live Mulligan!" bluerider breathes.
"And a /harper/. It's our
baby's namesake, K'rill, it is."
Milligan
Head
tosses restlessly, as if still carrying the dark brown hair long. Such twitches
are no longer necessary to reveal his eyes, an empty pale blue leeched to a
hollow gray. Instead the head is shorn to mere stubble. Hands are also
constantly moving, usually clasping or clenching at nothing.
There
is a starkly simple harper's journeyman knot adorning one shoulder.
A
smooth unadorned charcoal tunic drapes with such perfection to imply exquisite
tailoring. The rainwashed blue of his trous show best on his lithe legs during
his habitual rapid strides. There is little casual about how he wears these
simple clothes, instead their subdued tones hint at a fading strength in their
struggle to contain the harper's boundless energy.
Milligan
is 43 Turns, 8 months, and 27 days old.
He is
awake, but has been staring off into space for 3 minutes.
Carrying:
Shoulder
slung Gitar
Milligan's
Songbook
K'rill
groans under his breath, shooting a glance over to the entering harper with
quite the smoldering glance. "What the fard-" *throat clearing* A
glare is flashed at K'rali before he tensely inclines his head to Milligan,
"My duties, sir...." And then a lowered mutter to K'rali, "I
don't /think/ so."
Milligan
manages to raise a single eyebrow. Quite high. "I must say I can't place
the accent, but do try a bit harder. Eh. Eh. Not -Uhl. Higher in the throat,
you see. And I'm so glad you were able to place me as a harper so quickly. It
is a testiment to your teachers." Dropping his voice as if talking to
himself he adds, "One I'll be certain to look up."
K'rali,
in marked contrast to K'rill, has her hands clasped near the curve of her neck,
a sparkling gaze upon Milligan.
"But I /am/ a harper!" she declares breathlessly, brushing off
the first part of his explanation.
"Or was. I'm K'rali, that's
K'rill, and if you don't mind, I think I'll name my
baby
after you." Her smile's
brilliant. "I love the name
Mulligan."
Milligan
drifts closer to the table in a casual stride. His attention drifts as well,
studying the rest of the cavern before the pair. "Don't let me stop
you." He decides K'rali needs a closer look. His eyes trace her facial
curves as he checks, "Your baby's not mine, is it? I'm ever so sorry,
because I'd have thought I'd remember something like that. Embarassing
this." It is K'rill's turn for scrutiny next and Milligan's features
brighten, showing a spark of heightened interest.
K'rill
makes a few noises, almost sounds like he is choking with all the harsh croaks.
His face gets all kinds of red and everything. Really is quite a picture. It
takes as least one breath, maybe two before he finds his voice once more,
sliding smoothly around K'rali to stand before her, and face the harper,
"K'rill, not of the harpers but well versed in those of your hall."
And
their messed-up ways, he refrains from adding. "How K'rali jests... we
haven't a name for the child yet." And then Milligen mentions fatherly
duties, which doesn't help matters any.
K'rali
pokes her head up over K'rill, which, let's be honest, ain't that hard. "It's /yours/?" How extraordinary. "K'rill, did you know anything about this?" It's tough to tell how much of her idiocy is
real and how much is put-on, especially since it occurs with no symptoms. "I guess I /have/ to
name it
Mulligan now." Oh, that's smug,
that is.
Milligan
suggests in honeyed tones, "Perhaps 'Kralligan'?"
K'rill
facepalms. Yes, he honestly does facepalm as the heel of his hand strikes his
forehead. Maybe it might knock some sense into the situation... probably not.
He quirks a glance over his shoulder to his wingrider and 'apparent' mother of
his unborn child, "Well, K'rali... if the child is his, you are more than
free to name it whatever you will. In fact, I'd be delighted and give you both
my best." *sigh*
Milligan
murmurs suggestively to K'rill, "*Do* you now? I look forward to redeeming
your best." The harper's eyes follow the line of his lips while Milligan
licks his own, tasting its curve. His sigh echoes K'rill's.
K'rali's
lips twitch, as if she's stifling a smile.
Gravely, the bluerider observes, "Maybe I should let you two get
acquainted." Tossing a wicked
smile to a nearby Sirocco wingrider who's choking into his soup, she takes a
few slidey-steps backwards.
K'rill
is apparently so lost in his misery to even notice the attention he is
receiving from Milligan. And so, at the harper's words, the bronzer flashes a
most pained glance towards the man, soulfull eyes and everything. "You
have /no/ idea, harper." K'rali's words cause him to wave the harper to
the seat that she was in before, "Please. Sit. Yes... lets get acquainted
and I'll be happy to tell you everything." Bronzer moves to right the
chair he tipped over, and sit in that as well.
The
former greenrider takes the seat. He moves in with will and a crowding
shoulder. "You must tell me. I can see it has upset you. And surprised you
too, no doubt?" Milligan devotes the entirety of his attention to
listening to K'rill.
K'rali
discreetly sinks into a chair several seats down, well within hearing distance,
but hidden behind a hulking brownrider.
K'rill
leans an elbow onto the table, dropping his head into his hand with fingers
that extend into his hair, tousling it nicely. "Its just... I don't even
know where to start.. Milligan, was it?" Another flickered glance to the
harper as he leans towards him, "Ultimately, its the women in my life.
Nothing but trouble. Every time I turn around. My wingsecond alone causes me
heart palpitations... and then there is the goldrider I've know since...."
Who goes nameless. "And now the Istan... But it seems to all come back
to." Wait for it. Wait for it. A hand waves at K'rali, "/Her/.
Mulligan, she says. Mulligan!" Figure that one out.
Milligan
nods, dripping with insincere sympathy. "It could almost be expected, but
that's what women do. And a major reason why I try my best to avoid them. But
then, we all know how difficult that can be. So between this and that, you must
be looking for some quiet stability."
K'rali
briefly considers suggesting that K'rill consolidate his problems and make
/her/ his wingsecond--but that would be beating a dead horse. Or a dead wingsecond's knot, actually. So she just listens, peering now and then
around the brownrider's massive form.
"Stability!"
K'rill leaps upon that word, and reaches over as if to grasp Milligan's arms.
"Exactly! Stability. That is /exactly/ it. Its like, you know precisely
where I'm coming from." A groan, "What I wouldn't give for it.
Stability." Reverence in that word. Ohh! Idea. How about he gives K'rali
the wingleader knot so that K'rill can move to Boll and fish to his heart's
delight?
Oh, and
wouldn't K'rali like that.
Milligan
bobs his head with understanding reflecting in those cool grey eyes, rock
colored not quicksilver. "It is a noble quest, but takes a profound mind
to see such a goal ripen. Some can find it just watching clouds go by, but most
of us seem to ache and do without. Some perhaps find consolation in anothers
arms."
"Or
they find unplanned pregnancies," floats up a comment. It could have come from K'rali. It could also have come from the bluerider
just beyond her, or the other bluerider sitting across from her.
Milligan
drops his voice and echoes, "Or they find conveniently unplanned
pregnancies with a man in a position to help."
K'rill
is hanging off of Milligan's every word, and it shows. Head turns to the side,
overly-long bangs parting for a moment so that the bronzer's gaze levels with
that of Milligan's. "I don't know what I-" Okay, it was that
'pregnancy' comment that yanks the bronzer's attention from the harper and back
about, lips pursing with the tense line
of annoyance, only to have eyes alite upon K'rali.
Hey,
what K'rali? She's lurking, hidden
behind the brownrider. What
brownrider. The one that just got up to
refill his mug. Um. Bluerider blinks up the table and smiles
pretty.
Arg! So
close. Yet Milligan knows the value of patience. "Take a deep breadth.
Think before you act. Don't let others pull your flight-straps." Instead
trust honest Milligan. His smile sparkles invitingly even as his eyes enjoy the
delightful cascade of bangs.
One of
the other rider at another table has an unimpeded view of the lurking K'rali
and watches her hunched form with a smirk. A very satisfied smirk. She even
chuckles throatily.
K'rill
considers K'rali for a long moment, almost sedately. "Pardon," he
murmurs to Milligan, before rising and moving to the bluerider with a sigh,
"Yet again, you have managed to drive me to the brink, K'rali." Not
an accusation, just a simple voicing of the obvious. He cants his head back
towards where he and Milligan were silling, "Join us?"
Milligan
offers carefully chosen words of his own. "I'm certain we can trust
you."
K'rali's
voice is all chill amusement, "It's really very remarkable how easily you
manage to make everything my fault.
Quite a talent, I admit."
At the invitation, her gaze slides up towards Milligan. "No, no, you two are enjoying each
others' company far too much for me to intrude." She bestows her blessing upon the harper with a small smirk. "I just couldn't, really."
Milligan
shines a glowing smile of appreciation, but fears it won't be enough. K'rali
seems to have a knack of words of their own full measure. Best he add his own
leavening. "I'm sure he doesn't mean to *intrude* on you."
K'rill
quirks his eyebrows at her words. "Is that so... which would be why you
/insisted/ on trying to make a fool out of me by ordering her tummy to be a
boy? Too bad that I actually went along with it and instead asked for a
/girl/." Not really words to draw her over to where the harper and he are
sitting, are they? "Will you just please, K'rali? That's all I'm asking
right now."
Milligan
starts a bit, giving K'rill a suddenly stern look. "No. No. You can't
order her to please herself. That's not how it works. She has to figure things
out herself. Meanwhile, do you know what *you* want for yourself."
K'rali,
who had opened her mouth to give K'rill some species of answer, shuts it and
turns a surprised gaze upon Milligan.
But the question's a good one, and she waits for the answer.
K'rill
looks confused. It is a look he is very good at. He excels at it, to be honest.
He turns away from K'rali, to blink at Milligan, "What?" Lips turn
down into an equally well-used frown.
Milligan
rolls his eyes but waves a 'hold-that-thought' hand to K'rill before he leans
back, pointedly away from K'rill. His look at K'rali is a bit stern, but in a
paternal 'I-ve-seen-it-before' way. "*Some* people feel tugged in many
directions and don't respond well to yet more tugging. Or what *seems* like
tugging. You must remember not everything must be settled in one night."
K'rali's
glance is decidedly cool. Harper he may
be, but he's also a bit nosy. "Of
course," she dryly acquiesces.
"But about K'rill..." She trails off in a manner indicating
that the focus isn't on her--or shouldn't be.
Milligan
gives her an encouraging smile, "Don't you think he'd make better
decisions after a chance for quiet reflection?" Preferably in Milligan's
bed, but he doubts that's likely. Still, no need to push the pretty boy away.
He gives the male rider a winning smile. "Some peace. Simple pleasures. No
need for deep thoughts right away. He doesn't need to plan the rest of his life
in one night."
K'rill
continues with he bewildered look, flashing a glance from K'rali to Milligan
and back again. He sighs, and heavily with dropping shoulders, before moving to
push in his chair with those manners drummed so very well into him. "I
duties tomorrow before the wing assembles," by way of explanation for
trying to leave.
K'rali
lifts one brow--the left one, actually.
"Well, we were only planning on naming Mulligan Mulligan. Not exactly life-changing. But...you're right. Simple pleasures. I'm sure that K'rill--K'rill? don't go yet--can turn to you for
that sort of thing."
Milligan
murmurs sympathically, "Yet more thread to char, even if it's falling over
the sea."
K'rill
flashes an unamused smirk to K'rali, before replying, "I doubt doubt that
Millgan could satisfy me in ways that you are so very lacking, even if I didn't
swing that way. He has done a magnificent job thus far." He glances to
Milligan, "No slight upon you harper. You have been very understanding and
extremely helpful. Forts hospitality is yours." And so, he starts for the
bowl.
K'rali
sputters for a moment. "You
/slime/!" she manages to spit after K'rill. "I'm naming the baby K'rillsmells."
Milligan
suggests quietly, "I see my time is being wasted."
Milligan
gives K'rali a cool, evaluative look. "That wasn't your best choice of
tactics. Do you *enjoy* offending him?"
K'rali
shoves to her feet. "Right,
whatever, I know, you're thinking I didn't pay attention in that mediation and
diplomacy class. Well, I did. I was /very/ diplomatic." She sniffs, injured, but can't help adding
for honesty's sake, "In class."
With that, she sweeps out the same exit as K'rill, through presumably
not to chase him down.
K'rali
heads out into the immense bowl.
Milligan
unfolds himself to his feet, straightening to his full and not insubstantial
height. He gives the trail K'rali left a shrug. "Sometime you must decide
what you want. *I* always do."
Milligan
heads out into the immense bowl.