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.