5/23/2002

07:38 PM

Logfile from Sk'lar.

 

Main Living Cavern

Melodic laughter rings throughout the spacious cavern as riders socialize with one another, boasting of adventures a-dragonback, and gossiping about stodgy wingleaders and sordid affairs. Drudges rush past you, their arms laden with dishes and mugs of Klah, desperate to relieve themselves of their burden while pesky 'lizards inhibit their progress.

The light from the glows warmly illuminates the domed cavern and shimmers off the walls as miniscule mineral particles reflect the soft lighting like twinkling stars blanketed in a wintry gray sky. Numerous tables lie scattered across the room, some large enough to hold a whole wing of riders while others were made only for two.  Towards the back, a large hearth breathes soul soothing warmth into weary bodies as its flames dance with hypnotic grace and puppet flickering shadows across the spacious stone stage.     Sultry, mouth-watering aromas float in from a small archway that leads to the kitchens while chattering can be heard emanating from a wide hallway.

Flopped atop various perches are Elvis, Fallon, Zip, and Sanctus.

You see S'am, Telgar Weyr Menu, A small runnerbeast carving, kitten carving, and Reni here.

Tarlin is here.

From here you can go:

Lower Caverns             Bowl                       Infirmary                

Kitchen                   Gaming Room                                         

 

Sk'lar is in disguise, or not. Actually, he is feeling his way along the wall with a /very/ wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face. *slink-slink-slink* He seems to be keeping an ear cocked back in the direction of the infirmary. But, hearing no cry called out for a patient's absence, he continues on. With eyes at mere slits, he is forced to feel along the wall to find his way into the cavern.

 

Ashki walks into Main Living Cavern.

 

Tarlin occupies a darkened corner of the nearly quiet caverns, a mug settled into her fingers while she lounges across a couple of seats.  Her eyes focused on the infirmary entrance, she suppresses a grin as she notices the escapee's presence.  Setting her mug aside, she slips to her feet and makes her way over to the slinking bronzerider to offer assistance.  "There's a nice seat over this way," she leans in to whisper at him.  "Not many people'll notice you there."

 

Ashki wanders out of the kitchens with a large pot of soup, which he sets on a table near the hearth, it smelling rather spicy. He stirs it and then turns away from the pot and hearth.

 

Its a good thing Sk'lar doesn't squeak, cause he probably would have at the patter of feet coming his way. Just an old uncle here, nobody to be concerned about. *cough* Head ducks further, shadowing his face completely 'til he hears the voice and the very familiar presence. Nearly blindly, he gropes for her hand to lead him in whatever direction. "My duty to you, miss, if you would be so obliged..." His nose twitches at the scent of something other than boring broth and juice. "That... that real food?"

 

Tarlin sniffs the air at the emergence of soup and kitchen assistant and her mouth begins to water as the heady spices work their magic on her senses.  "Oooh, must be someone new in the kitchens," she muses as she helps Sk'lar into a seat.  Her gaze follows Ashki's form, a smile dawning on her features.  "Want some soup, sir?" she asks, upholding the ruse for her companion.

 

Ashki glances over, and then grins slightly. "Last I checked it was real." he says, the heady scent of spices hovering around him at the moment. "Would you like some?" Ashki looks back towards the soup,  "Feel free."

 

"Ohhh, a smidgen would be nice." In Sk'lar terms, 'smidgen' means one very full bowl. He seems to have a bottomless stomach, as Tarlin can well attest to. As he drops into a seat, forearms lean onto the table, hunching forward a little more than necessary. "Maybe a roll, and a redfruit. Some... klah." Its been ages since he last had klah. One can only drink so much juice and tea in a month.

 

Tarlin quirks a brow at her weyrmate, but complies, moving to retrieve a mug of klah for the bronzerider.  Ashki receives a nod and a smile as the cook replies, "Two bowls, please, if you would?"

 

Ashki blinks for a moment, eyebrows rising. Him?He looks around him, and then gives a slight sigh, giving the two a quirked look before turning to find a bowl or two. Once he procures the two bowls ne takes them to the simmering soup and delicately ladles out the spicy soup, standing back to make sure he doesn't get any on his clothing, or boots. He leaves the ladle in the soup and picks up the two bowls, hissing a bit at their heat as he brings them to the corner table and sets them down, lifting his chin primly and dawning a cool smile. "Here you are." he says, his voice surprisingly soft.

 

Sk'lar is obviously out to try to be as 'naughty' as possible before the heavy hand of the Healers show up and drag him back into the infirmary. "And a roll, redfruit," Sky tacks on, just to make sure he'll be getting that as well, wincing slightly as his own voice rings in his head. "Thank you," bronzer murmurs, not recognizing Ashki's voice but still reluctant to show his face, lest someone recognizes him.

 

Tarlin wrinkles her nose at the call, the bronzerider lucky his weyrmate hadn't seen the wince.  She returns with a mug of klah, a glass of juice, a refruit and a couple of hard rolls.  She settles herself into a seat beside the invalid Sk'lar with a sigh.  "They need me," she mutters, as one of the rolls, knocked against the table, fails to give, emitting a hollow sound.  Ashki receives another smile, this one of thanks, as the young woman moves the bowls closer to herself and her weyrmate.  "Thank you," she says to the young man, and then introduces herself.  "I'm Tarlin and, if I were working, I'm sure I'd've met you already.. you are?"

 

Ashki

     Lean of body, Ashki stands straight and tall. His hair hangs down to his shoulders in blue-black locks. Under his dark lashes, icy blue eyes shine. His face is slender, angular, with high-set cheekbones and a strong chin. His nose is long and narrow, and his lips slender and soft. He is graceful in his height. Even his fingers are long.

     Ashki wears a long-sleeved, broadcloth tunic of white trimmed in gold twice around the wrist, collar and at the shoulder. The buttons rise up the front, tucked in a pair of blue breeches above shiny black boots. Over his neat clothing he wears a cloak of blue matching his eyes, embroidered with designs in gold.

He is awake, but has been staring off into space for 6 minutes.

 

Ashki hesitates. "Um, yeah... sure. Okay." he says as he looks around the room, catching sight of Tarlin returning with those things, He scuffs a foot for a moment. "Ashki." he says after a moment, looking a bit nervous. "Up from the lower caverns. Aunt Sahva sent me up."

 

Sk'lar tries to hold back a snicker at the sound the roll makes, "Maybe I had better let that soak in the soup a little bit." Just the crunching that he would have to do to eat that thing would probably send him on the floor in convulsions. Roll is torn in twain, one half left partially within his bowl of soup. He spoons some of the soup up, taking a taste of something that doesn't have the flavor of dried leaves. "Ashki?" New one. But he doesn't lift his gaze to look at the teenager. "Nice to see you, Ashki." Or something...

 

Tarlin giggles and starts to break up her roll into her soup, intent on adding some thickness to the otherwise perfect--well, perfectly /smelling/--meal.  She spoons out a taste and has to lick her lips as the spices set her tastebuds afire.  "Oh.. mm... oooooh."  Her eyes watering, she grins at Ashki.  "I don't suppose you helped make the soup?"

 

Ashki blinks at the grin and brightens himself. "Actually yes. The rolls too." he says with a bit of pride in his voice. "Doesn't it smell wonderful?" he wonders, continuing to stand almost vanely at attention.

 

Tarlin is apparently needed in the kitchens far more than first thought. Whatever will the Weyr do without her if she ever left those kitchens? Prolly fall into ruin. Dulled taste buds finally manage to receive the full glory of the soup, causing a hand to blindly reach out to grab the other half of that roll and rip off a piece with his teeth. *chew-crunch-chew* Maybe Sk'lar should have stayed in the infirmary. "Mmmmmmm."

 

Tarlin chokes down another bite of the stew as her own dulled tastebuds get an overload of flavor.  "Smells wonderful, sure," she concedes, then chuckles around her choking, dabbing at her lips with her fingers.  "I doubt that the aunties and uncles could eat this, though."  She keeps a tentative eye on her weyrmate for signs of strain. She worries, y'know?

 

Ashki blinks, and frowns slightly, biting on her lip a bit. "They couldn't?" he asks, his head ducking a bit. "Oh. It bad?"he asks, his elegant eyebrows furrowing as he looks at the soup.

 

Sk'lar is perfectly fine, if he can survive this meal. No need to worry. Now, if he can just make it out to the lifemate, somehow climb on his back, and get whisked away to his weyr -no healer can come and get him. Maybe he will try a night-time escape?... Anyway, back to the meal. With liberal use of the /hard/ roll, he manages to get down the soup a little bit at a time. "Did you happen to brew the klah as well?" This naturally directed to the teenager. Always best to check first, to be on the safe side.

 

Tarlin shrugs as she slowly becomes used to the overuse of spice in the soup and begins to eat with relish.  "Not bad, per se.." she begins, spoon pausing thoughtfully over the bowl.  "Not if you have something else for them to eat."

 

Ashki shakes his head. "Not completely." he answers. "I didn't do much of it, just mixed the klahbark with the water." he says, "The drudges helped. The old pot seemed... thick."

 

Sk'lar flickers a glance askance to Tarlin from under the brim of his hat, shadows still covering his eyes. Not bad? Apparently Sky has a palette that prefers things a bit more tame than all the spices. No? Ahhh, alright." Hand reaches and wraps about the much of klah before taking a testing sip of the contents.

 

Tarlin actually manages to finish off most of her soup before the heat becomes a bit too much for her.  She nudges Sk'lar gently in the side.  "If you keel over, they're going to blame it on me, you know," she notes in an aside to the bronzerider.  A brow is lifted at Ashki.  "You do an awful lot in the kitchens?  What's everyone so busy at that they've got you doing so much?"

 

Ashki shrugs. "I was just trying to help." he says, "And stay out of Aunt Sahva's way." he explains, turning meekly sheepish as he sighs. "Am I to be moved somewhere else?"

 

"Sk'lar!" bellows a voice from the direction of the infirmary. Its one of those bellows that just rakes down the spine of the person whose name is being cried out. "Fardles... and I'm not going to keel over." He leans to the side, crushing the brim of his hat as he gives Tarlin a kiss to her jaw, before placing palms to the table and levering himself up. "Betcha a backrub I can get back to the infirmary without them being the wiser?" And so, he toddles off in the direction of the infirmary, keeping a firm gaze onto the floor with hands extended to either side. Nearly-blind bronzer walking.

 

"I'll hold you to that!" Tarlin calls out across the cavern.