9/16/2002
04:09
PM
Logfile
from Taire.
Living
Cavern
Flawlessly
carved archways highlight the uniform walls that extend upwards into the
cavern's near total darkness above. The
night hearth abides beside the largest egress, while along the northern span a
handcarved staircase ascends into the kitchens. To the east a dais supports the long Weyrleaders' table; smaller
table-boards align the walls nearby.
The heart of the room is distinguished by gray flagstone flooring, whose
skillfully interlocking slabs have been worn level by the passage of countless
bootheels through the ages.
You see
Aieee here.
Taeri
is here.
Obvious
exits:
Bowl Lower Caverns Tunnel Kitchen Game Room
Moved.
Blane
comes up from the lower caverns.
Taeri
weaves her way around the tables, sweeping the flagstones with the broom she
carries. Humming very softly and very out of tune, Taeri gathers the dirt and
bits of food in a pile towards the centre of the room. Starting towards another
corner, she avoids colliding with three seperate people and another candidate
with a pitcher of Klah. "Whoops...sorry."
Taire
is a woman on a mission, or something like that. The teenager is already
plucking off her riding jacket as she enters into the caverns, tossing it negligently
onto a chair. Only, with a little too much force, which causes it to slide
right off and onto the floor. Nice. Footfalls click with a meaningful rhythm as
the girl makes it to a table near a wall, and, quite honestly, uses a pulled
out chair as a stepping platform to stand upon the table. Yes, you read that
correctly.
Blane
is, as usual, stalking the perimeter of the living cavern; Head down, hands in
his pockets, with his eyes scraping down individual forms for a tell-tale
mark-purse bulge. A recent entry draws
his attention quickly...Well. The
jacket sliding onto the floor does, to be more precise. Without a second thought, he doubles back,
ambling casually towards the garment as he slowly pulls his hands out of his
pockets for some quick rifling.
Apparently he's too preoccupied to notice one of the local loonies
climbing on the tables.
Taeri
continues sweeping until she comes to Blane and the jacket. Accidentaly pushing
a bit of dirt their way, Taeri frowns. She didn't see Taire drop it, of course.
"Oh, I'm so very sorry." Biting down on her lower lip, she glances
around for something to clean the jacket with, but instead notices Taire on the
table. Then of course she just...stares. People just don't /do/ things like
that back at the hall.
One
might find a couple of mark fractions in the pockets of Taire's riding jacket.
Sure. Along with some 'stone fragments, a candidate's knot, a bundle of a
half-dozen sweetsticks, and some hair beads of the more common variety. Not
much to be had there. Of course, Taire could really care less. Instead, the
girl rises to her tippy-toes to reach, reach, reach, as high as possible to
barely tickle the edge of a ledge. Some grunting ensues, along with a couple of
hops that actually cause the table she is standing on to *thump* against the
ground. Oh, and we can't forget the cursing.
Blane's
fingers brush the jacket before the thumping draws his attention, and
crouching, he turns his head to squint at Taire. "Bloody insane..." is his only comment, though he
doesn't turn back to the prize at hand just yet. There's a risk now, you see.
Someone crazy enough to hop around on a table in public /might/ be crazy
enough to come after him with some sort of blunt object...Should he be caught.
Taeri
moves towards Taire, the broom clutched in both hands. Giving Blane a brief
glance and an apologetic smile over her shoulder, Taeri pause a few feet away
from the table- just in case the rider looses her balance or something.
"Can I help you Ma'am?" Not that Taeri wants to be jumping around on
tables. Oh no. But maybe she could call someone with a bit of authority? Or
maybe a Healer or two?
Taire
grunts once more, still unable to reach into those far recesses. "Ohhhh,
fardles and -" She breaks off to peer down at the unfamiliar Taeri.
"Aye, gimme your broom. I have need of it." Arm drops only to shoot
out in the candidate's direction is palm open. Aka, put the handle in her hand
now. Oh course, nobody has ever really questioned the fact that most of the
members of Taire's clutch are in any way sane.
Blane
wrinkles his nose slightly, his fingers fumbling inside the jacket as he gropes
around for mark pieces while keeping his eyes on Taire...Who has, more quickly
than he had hoped, obtained an object that could cause a great deal of pain if
applied directly to the top of his head.
"C'mon...c'mon..."
Muttering to himself, he tugs on something that turns out to be a
sweetstick, which he immediately sticks in his mouth.
Taeri's
eyes widen and she holds the broom out, handle first, towards Taire.
"Yes...Ma'am." And that's pretty much all she has to say at this
point to a woman jumping up and down on a perfectly good table. Glancing around
to see if anyone else finds this a bit odd, she crosses her arms over her chest
and takes another step back. Out of a chore, Taeri ends up taking a seat at the
nearest table so that she can watch the rider. The good manners that have been
drilled into her head since birth are really the only thing that keeps her
mouth from dropping open.
That
broom is nothing compared to the wonderful little toy perched up so high and
hidden on that ledge. That is, if it is still there. Taire greatfully takes the
broom, turns it about, and then begins to poke with the bristled business end
at that slight ledge. "Ohhhh. For the love of little green... Come on.
It's gotta be there." *poke-poke-poke* "Shaffit, Menace." Unable
to get the right angle, the broom is quite literally thrown across the room
negligently. She turns back about, peering first at Taeri, and then across to
Blane thoughtfully. "Hey! You!"
Blane
jerks in place, pulling back up onto his feet and sliding a fist full of junk
(and if he's lucky, a mark or two) into his trouser pocket in the same swift
movement. If that wasn't too suspicious,
he immediately adopts an annoyed expression, with a flat tone to match. "What?"
Taire
snugs N'cion! N'cion twitches. *twitch*
Taeri
winces as the broom is launched across the room. Looking back at the rider,
Taeri shrinks down into her seat as she's peered at. As soon as Taire's
attention is drawn to Blane, the girl jumps up and chases after her broom.
"Oh...Faranth only knows what that cook'll say if that rider's broken my
broom..." Crawling out from under an occupied table a few moments later,
Taeri blushes and mumbles apologies to the people sitting there before she
heads back to the pile of dust that sits next to Taire's jacket. The broom is,
thankfully, all in one piece.
Taire
points one finger at Blane, "Get over here. Now." Mmmm, that doesn't
sound good. She takes two steps to the edge of the table before hopping right
on back down to the floor with another *thump* "You need to get something
for me." Clearly, she didn't see anything. As Taeri moves, the
greenrider's gaze is naturally drawn over to her, eyes narrowing just the
slightest. "Wait. Which one of you is taller?"
Blane's
brows knit, a wary line pressed in between as he obeys, stopping once he
reaches the table. His gaze follows
Taire all the while, cautiously keeping track of her hands in case they should
suddenly grab a knife or something else dangerously pointy. At her question, he glances back towards
Taeri, snorting. "I'd have to say I
am." At the same time, Blane's player edits Blane's desc to include
height, which is something she'd previously forgotten to do.
Taeri
freezes as she's addressed again. Eyeing Blane, she quickly sizes him up and
nods. "Oh, I agree. He's definately bigger than I am Ma'am." And if
you expect Taeri to jump up and down on a table, you're sorely mistaken.
"I won't be able to reach up there unless I stand on something, so maybe
he'd better do it..." Besides, Taire's already abused her broom. The least
the rider can do is leave her in peace. Next thing you know, Taire's going to be
telling the poor candidate to stand on top of a stack of people. Taeri might
never recover.
Taire
completely dismisses Taeri now as she reaches over to take a generous handful
of Blane's shirt and then push him towards the table she was previously
standing upon. "Get on up there and get me whatever is on that ledge.
Watch your fingers, or you might find ourself minus a few." In other
words, what Taire wants up there is obviously rather sharp, or bites, or
something along those lines.
Murkat
comes striding into the caverns, right into the midst of quite a sight. Leaning
against a nearby table, he folds his arms across his chest and simply stands
there watching what could potentially be an interesting diversion. Not that
it's diverting him from anything anyways, he's just doing what he normally
does, and that is wandering around avoiding work.
Blane
stares coldly, taking a hasty step forward to catch himself before Taire
manages to tip him over.
"Ah...No. I'd rather
not. Table dancing isn't my cup of
tea." Sniffing airily, he balls his fist, turning the palm inward so that
he can make a show of inspecting his nails.
"Besides. I need
fingers. I can't work without
them."
Taeri's
eyes get wider, if that's possible. Missing fingers? The girl ducks her head and
concentrates on sweeping dirt back and forth while trying to look as busy as
she possibly can. After a few minutes, Taeri tilts her head so that she can
watch both her job and Blane. Poor guy. He'll just have to find a line of work
that doesn't require the use of your fingers.
Keliana
slinks in from the Lower Caverns, attention only half on where she places her
feet as she examines her fingernails. There's /grime/ under them. Grime!
Chores, it must be, which she happens to also be ducking at this time. She's
only been parceled a few as of yet, but enough to make her wary of those known
to give them. She tosses her hands back down dejectedly and eyes those gathered
around the mounted tables.
Taire
rolls her eyes at Blane, granting him a scathing glance before snorting,
"Aye. And at the same time you can take whatever you just pilfered out of
the pockets of my jacket or else I will make sure you do loose those fingers.
Don't you try to pull anything over on a trader, my boy." Not that she really
cares. What is on that ledge is gold to her. Gaze sweeps over to spy...
"Murkat! You're tall enough. Can you get me what's up on that ledge,
aye?" Posed as a question, meant as a demand.
Well,
since she asked so kindly, Murkat actually considers the request for a moment,
right before his forehead puckers in thought. "Well, I might just be able
to do that, and in fact, it would be my pleasure. But first I must request
something in return. After listening to your wonderful conversation with our
mutual friend there, I must inquire as to just what it is that I'm reaching for
up there. It just wouldn't do for me to go sticking my hands in places that I
cannot see. People get in trouble that way." Just sugar and sweetness,
isn't he?
Blane
glowers, his lower jaw jutting as he obediently plunges his hand into his
pocket, wriggling his fingers around to make sure that the two mark pieces
remain in place. The pair of
sweetsticks and a cluster of beads are set down on the table with evident
disgust...no telling where they've been.
The bit of the first one left in his mouth is swallowed. "Should've known you were a
trader...Nobody else would be so stingy about what's in their pockets." he
sneers, taking a step back and glancing greatfully to Murkat.
Taeri
glances from Blane to the jacket. Is this not an interesting development? That
poor boy's been accused of stealing. What to do? Defend the poor man, which
means /talking/ to the scary rider- or just let it go? "Excuse me, Ma'am?
I'm sure he didn't know it was yours. It was on the floor after all."
Maybe he was just trying to pick it up? "I'm sure he didn't actually take
anything on purpose." She doesn't really know any of the people around
here of course. "He probably just didn't want anyone else to take
them." She doesn't hear anything Blane says of course. An honest nod
follows her statements, even if the grip she has on her broom is turning her
knuckles white.
Keliana
locks her hands behind her back, continuing up closer to the spot of action,
casting only occasional glances towards the tunnels leading out and eventually
stopping near enough one to catch the sights and sounds without seemingly
infringing. Two unknowns, one she's seen about and . . . Taeri! Ah, a Weaver.
She doesn't /know/ the girl, but her occasional trips to the Hall have brought
her occasional sightings. And of course instant favoritism. Who /doesnt/ love a
weaver? Besides the crazy folks.
"My
sword," Taire answers instantly. "Menace was being an arse the other
day and put it up there, out of my reach. The fardling git was proddy 'n didn't
know half of what he was doing." Or something like that. Blane is given a
speculative glance, but it is those sweetsticks that are her most prized
possessions. How else does she get through those boring sweeps? But, she does
puff up a bit with what can only be pride at his trader remarks. The greenrider
quirks an odd glance at Taeri, and doesn't even respond to the girl's remarks.
"Ah,"
the former Steward says with a nod, "Now that I can understand." The
whole, Menace being an arse comment. An eyebrow does raise at the word sword
though. "Now what would you possibly want with a sword?" He turns
away for a moment to nod to the other two occupants of the caverns, neither of
which he really knows, before turning back to the rider. "And why don't
you make Menace get it down? Then I again, I could make him get it down for
you. That would certainly be my pleasure."
Taeri
just moves into the background, ducking her head. Taire doesn't even bother to
answer her, can you believe it? So much for sticking up for people around here.
Blushing, she hurries off to a corner to continue sweeping in silence. It's a
good thing there are too many people around for the girl to start crying- she's
not about to make even more of a scene in public. A few minutes later she
finishes sweeping and heads for the kitchens, edging around the group by the
table.
Blane
continues to glower from his place a few meters away, eyes narrowed as he
watchies Taeri make her exit, commenting in a low, gruff tone,
"Girls." before looking back
to Murkat and Taire, his eyes mere slits.
"I'll do it if you pay me.
Two marks. I wasn't kidding
about needing my fingers...Oh. And you
can't use it on me once I retrieve it."
Keliana
remains in her standing place, not budging an inch despite who leaves or who
comes. If she could, she'd be taking notes. Though she wouldn't most likely
think of that. Her ear is enough . . . she can remember the details. It's
always good to have a bit of something to say about everyone, even if it isn't
some strain of a rumor. Though those are definately preferable. She smirks and
stays back. Best not to bring herself into this until need be. Watching is much
easier.
Taire
frowns considerably at the idea of N'cion being involved in this. In fact, that
would be a Very Bad Thing. "Shells, no. He'd just call me all kinds of
names, taunt me, and then laugh, not getting it at all. Could you puh-lease get
it for me, Murkie? Puh-lease? I mean, after all, I always did fancy you. You
were always so very nice to me." At least she didn't start batting her
eyelashes. Thank goodness for that. There are even limits that Taire must have.
As for paying for what is rightfully hers, that earns a sniff in Blane's
general direction. A sigh and then the greenrider is reaching for one of the
heavy chairs at the side of the table, taking it in hand, and then moving as it
of man-handle the thing up onto the table. One can basically figure her line of
reasoning from this point.
Murkat
shakes his head as he finally moves from his 'perch' and heads over to the
table. "There's no need for that, I'll get it." He begins to climb up
onto the table, but suddenly stops and turns toward the greenrider. "But
first, you over there." He points to a place halfway across the room. He's
not going to be climbing up onto this table and then having her try anything
funny while he's up there. Not that he doesn't trust her of course. "And
of course I was always so nice to you," he replies back with just as much
sugar and sweetness. "You were so little and cute." Giving her a
quick once over, he clucks his tongue and shakes his head slowly before quickly
hopping up onto the table.
Blane
scratches his head, leaving a smooth patch among the general spikyness as he
shrugs at Taire's refusal and begins to walk backwards...Back towards the
jacket, in fact. "Well...You two
enjoy yourselves." He stoops, back to rifling, only this time he's not
going to stick around long enough to get half his stash taken back.
Keliana
flattens against the wall, watching Blane get closer. Just stop at the jacket,
please . . . person here. That would be quite the introduction. Not to mention
give away her not-so-discreet, but shadowy listening place. She /would/ prefer
to see how the sword ends up down before she's shoved off in another direction
to sweep, or clean, or muck a bit more. She was just getting a bit of respite.
She'll get back soon, really! ... Really!
Taire
would pout if she thought it would get her anywhere. Alas, the girl just sighs
and takes a few steps back to give Murkat the room he thinks is necessary.
"Watch your fingers. I'll bet he- I mean, its really sharp. Newly
smithed." There is anticipation in her eyes as she watches the ledge with
almost greedy intent. Blane and all his messing with her jacket is clearly not
seen now. He could take the jacket as well, and she wouldn't notice for quite
some time. As for Keliana, Taire is absolutely oblivious to her wall-flower
presence.
Murkat
feels around the ledge, very carefully, looking for the sword but making sure
that he doesn't find it the hard way. After a couple of moments, he pulls
something down that looks an awful lot like a stick, and look, there's a little
note attached. Pausing to read it, his eyebrows raise before turning back to
the greenrider and waving the stick. "Are you sure you don't want to
revise your story just a little bit? It
seems that Menace has already removed /his/ sword and left you a little present
instead." He hops down off the table and hands the prize to Taire. Surely
not quite what she was looking for.
Wrote
on the note is this:
Taire: I had a feeling you'd be busily rooting your
perky little nose into this nook to try and abscond with my property. Well, too bad. I recovered it long ago, while you were too busy having your
flight. So let this be a lesson to
you--don't try to take other people's properties. Here, have a stick. It's
brittle enough to break before you break anybody's skull, so don't get any
funny ideas. Have fun with the stick
and try not to be too clumsy with it.
Think of it as training before you're trusted with a real weapon. --Menace
Blane
seems satisfied after a good minute of rustling around within the pockets, his
fingers pinched tight around a pair of mark pieces that he slips into his
pocket before hustling towards the lower caverns...Looking very pleased with
himself, of course.
Blane
heads deeper into the Weyr's lower caverns.
Keliana
lets out a breath of relief as Blane skips out without colliding, but notches
down that pilfer in her memory as something to remember. Hmm. Interesting. And
this change in events with the sword recovery seems quite the same also. A
slight noise of amusement escapes-- slight and airy, but a bit audible -- as
the stick is handed down, her eyes following it's progress. Well. This just
keeps getting better.
Taire
stares blankly at Murkat for the longest time as a stick and note, not a sword,
are produced. "Feel up there again! It's gotta be there!" The stick
and note are taken; the greenrider's eyes fairly devour the writing, although
she does hesitate on a couple of Menace's 'larger' words. "Why that lousy,
conniving, no-good, wherry-licking, son of a -" Note is crumpled in her
hand, delicately though. With stick still in hand, the greenrider turns about
upon booted heel to stalk out of the caverns, negligently tossing the crumpled
paper in Keliana's direction. There is the barest glimmer of an amused grin
over something or another, a feral light to her eyes, and she is pounding out.
Yeah, she completely forgot her, now much lighter, jacket.