Kitchen
Under an elaborately vaulted ceiling lies the perpetual hustle and bustle of the Fort Weyr kitchen. Along the outside wall run a never-ending stream of glowing hearths, culminating at a small alcove-room: the night-hearth, where stew and klah never run-out. From the ceiling edges hang rows and rows of immaculately shined copper utensils, be it heavy cauldrons for the soup or tiny pans for the sauce. Tables of choppings and slicings are diverted from their orderly rows in bumped angles and pathways, chairs littering the space between them.
You see Pheniox, Gul, and Neko here.
Menacion, Sanna, and Murkat are here.
Obvious exits:
Caverns Rooms
Sanna knows when she's sprung, and that's about now. Her attempt at purposeful escape slows, and halts. Three steps backwards, and she's back at Menace's side, swiveling around to eye Murkat with a fair attempt at a smile. Still no words. Stay quiet, stay in the background, bolt as soon as the steward's not watching.
Kishairyn steps into the kitchen from the lower caverns.
"He forgot dessert." Menace assures Murkat blandly. "And made us come get some for him." He's getting better at this 'lying' thing. Honest. One elbow sticks out to prod Sanna -- gently, of course -- in the ribs. "You know how impatient he gets. We really should be hurrying though..."
Taire patters into the kitchens, her arms absolutely flooding with dishes. The pile before her reaches near to her forehead, thus thoroughly blinding the girl to whatever is before her. "Coming through!" She bellows this now and again to make sure all before her move out of the way, lest they get slimy mushed tubers and a host of other half-eaten culinary delights spilled all over them. Used dishes slop the remains of their meals now and again, bits and pieces dropping to the floor in her wake.
Murkat shakes his head, taping his fingers on the table. "Oh, I doubt that." His gaze turns to Menacion's partner in crime and he points to her, still speaking to Menace. "Does she speak?" The pile of dishes walking through the door is eyed before his attention returns to the two. "Well?"
Sanna is halfway to wrinkling her nose in response, but the action is aborted in favour of a quick, sweetly dimpled smile and a flutter of lashes. "Of course I do, Steward." Flutterflutter. Got to be worth a try. "I'd never want to interrupt you, was all." Pretty weak attempt. She knows she's losing. Almost time to cut her losses and save her lines for another, more winnable occasion. One last attempt: "But Menace is right, about V'len's dessert. And he /does/ get impatient..."
Menacion summons his best innocent look at Murkat. "Well what? We're just passing through. Excuse us while we grab the desserts..." Not-so-subtle attempt to slide past Murkat and to the desserts, leaving Sanna behind this time. "I'm sure Taire here would be delighted to help you."
Taire toddles her way to the area where dishes such as the kind she is hefting belong. There are a couple of moments when a saucer or a tea cup threaten to teeter off the edge of a platter, but only with the next step slide to the other side and tempt another fall upon the very cusp. With legs spread wide, the girl bends at the knee to deposit the mound of dishes where they belong. As hands release, she stands back to her full height, noting a pair of familiar voices from the barracks. "Aye, that rider sure could use some sweetening up." Somehow, she sounds rather skeptical on that account. The girl continues to survey the pile of dishes, 'til her name is brought up. "Menace, you be livin' up to your name."
Kishairyn wonders, hearing that last line of Taire's, if all the desserts in the Weyr would do it, but that thought is hoarded with any number of others as she creeps to the doorway, various kitchen articles clutched in hand. "Maybe I'll come back and return these another time," she murmurs. She has a bad feeling about this.
Murkat comes forward and had goes out to attempt to block Menace. "Oh, I don't think that's necessary. I'll get a drudge to run his dessert out to him. I know you have much more important things to do." Oh, and he does. Just wait a second, he'll see. "Well that's good to hear." Flattery gets you nowhere. "Ah yes, Taire can help you two as well. And you too." He turns to the newest arrival, the former weaver. "Now I've got a problem. As I'm sure you all know, there are eggs on the sand." Isn't that stating the obvious? "And when there are eggs, there will be a hatching." Another duh. "And a hatching means a feast with lots of guests." Anyone care to dispute his logic so far?"
Shoot the messenger for bringing bad news!
Sanna isn't disputing. She's too busy looking for an escape. "Scores of them, usually." She's a veteran, you see. She's also, that remark made, trying to sidle behind Menace. Hands go behind her, lighting upon a plate of something. And they investigate. Perhaps this can go in her pocket. It's about then that they wander from the edge of the pie to its uncovered centre. See Sanna's hands covered in custard and berry goo. See her facial expression freeze.
Menacion does! Um... "But that's a long time from now. Months, in fact." A lot of plans rely on that fact. Like the vacation down south. "V'len was emphatic about it being us two. He wanted to regale us with more stories of him and Yevgeth." One last try at escape. And since Sanna's behind him, he, of course, misses her little experiment with a pie.
Taire swings about as her name comes up once more. "Now, look here!. I-" The girl immediatly cuts off at the sight of the person before her. Eyes grow as wide as marks and a most indescribable look of utter and complete joy saturates her features. "Murkat? Murkat!" The girl screeches at the top of her lungs not but a breath before she launches herself across the kitchens at the steward. "Murkat!" She throws herself at him, arms wrapping about his middle in a rather astonishing show of affection on her behalf.
"I've got mending to do. And tunnelsnake hunting. From our last trip, the evidence is the lower caverns are infested," Kishairyn says with wide-eyed gravity. "You wouldn't want to endanger the Weyr by my not stamping out an infestation, would you?" She's crossing her fingers, inwardly, that Murkat has never seen her with a knife. She smirks in Sanna's direction, about to make a comment, when Taire bursts upon Murkat. "Shells!" She makes a rather acrobatic backwards leap and ends up dropping her burden in a none-too-graceful cascade of - thankfully unbreakable - kitchenware.
Murkat shakes his head once again, "I'll worry about V'len." He studies Sanna, trying to figure out just what she's getting into. Suddenly, he oofs as someone latches onto him. The figure is eyed and he smiles slightly as he attempts to disengage the messenger. "Hello Taire," he mutters under his breath. This is not good for his reputation. With that done, he gives her a quick smile before turning back to them all. "Like I was saying, a hatching means people, and that means a feast. So...we need to get the gather hearths ready." Hand moves to indicate said hearths. That's right, the ones that look like they haven't been cleaned since the last hatching. "I'm sure you all can handle that. Shouldn't take you too long." As if. "I'll check in on you periodically to see how things are going."
And as Murkat's attention turns away from them, Sanna withdraws her hands from behind her back - fingers liberally coated in custard and berries. Oops. With brown eyes daring anyone to comment, she begins to lick them clean, words offered between licks. "They're filthy." *lick* "We almost cleaned 'em out" *lick* "after last hatching, but they were a bit too much" *lick* "to face." Bet she's regretting that around about now.
Murkat'll be alone in that respect. Worrying about V'len, that is. Menace sniggers slightly as Murkat gets hit by the diminuative Taire who obviously seems happy to see Murkat -- quite a reverse of the usual. Menace shoots a mournful look at the filthy hearths. "Oh...joy." Ash and soot are /so/ hard to get out of white shirts. And no, he won't strip to keep his shirt clean. "How are we supposed to clean that thing?" he complains, turning around to Sanna and.. "What /are/ you doing, Sanna?" Blink. Blink.
And as quickly as she has him wrapped up, face of joy is immediately replaced by a most unpleasant scowl as he weasels away. "You!" Fisted hands plant on her hips as she peers up to Murkat. "Why, you no-good, lousy, hunk o' wherry-fink ash! I should beat you soundly!" She could care less about his orders and such forth. The girl takes a long step away from the steward, scowling even worse than before. Fine. Be that way. *snort* The girl turns about on booted heels and stalks back to the dirty dishes, throwing equally dirty looks over her shoulder ot the steward. A few more censored words leave her lips as she spits with all the venom of a 'snake.
"I'll help hold him down, if you need it, Taire," Kishairyn says, using the handy excuse of picking up her spilled implements to not even look at the hearths. "I was already on duty ... does he rank whoever it was?" she inquires hopefully, casting a longing look out towards the caverns. She chuckles at Sanna's maneuver, leaning over and quite deliberately taking a swipe at the pie herself. Since it's already quite ruined, a little more off the top won't hurt.
"I'm learning a lesson." That was Sanna, to Menace, with a rueful smile as fingers are wiggled for his inspection. "Never try to see if you can eat what's behind you, without checking it's not gooey first." That's bound to come in handy. "I'll have to wash these. The cooks'll give you enough to be starting with. I'll be right back, unless someone else nabs me." And won't she be detouring past anyone she can with a bigger knot, to see if they'll order her into something else? With a quick dimple, she's gone.
"I'd look the other way." Menace offers. That's about as close a concession to getting him to help as you'll get from the guard. "Oh. I see." is response to Sanna's finger-waggle. "A...very important lesson to learn, I'm sure." Pause. "Wait! You can't leave me here with this hearth cleaning!" Too late. She's gone.
Sanna goes home.
Taire fairly throws the dishes into the water-filled sink, slamming and crashing and basically making as much noise as humanly possible. Suds and water splatter about without a care, bespeckling both tunic and face, wetting her braids rather liberally. "You hold him 'n I'll black his eye, make his lip swell, bend his nose, loosen his jaw..." It could go on and on, but a particularly violent shove of dish into water 'causes a bit of a hefty splash of water. One hand grabs a washcloth moments before it delves into the water to scrub most viciously at the poor, innocent plate. "See if'n I accept another meal from him again. See if'n I ever take his side in an argument with his women-folk. See if I /care/." *growl*
Ashelyn steps into the kitchen from the lower caverns.
Kishairyn lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Looks like she's done it, Menace," she points out in a drawl, making a delicate effort of cleaning off her own helping of berries ... tiny bit by tiny bit. She still has a muddled pile of utensils to return to their proper places, and she's probably plotting something she needs to go back for. "How very kind of you. Will you give us an alibi, too?" She blinks at Taire. "You know him well?" she asks the rather evident question.
Menacion raises a brow at Taire. "That might be going a tad bit too far, though..." Yeesh. What a temper. "Don't break the dishes, Taire. We have fights between riders for that." Turning back to the hearth, he gets that sinking sensation. "You're helping me with this, Kish." He says flatly, looking around for...a bucket and a mop?
Gabriela steps into the kitchen from the lower caverns.
Taire continues to work on the dishes, her penance for refusing to go outside and weed areas of the bowl. The others and their pilfering are eyed narrowly, "Hearths?" *snort* "Like I'm gonna take an order from /him/." Head tosses contemptuously as she works her washcloth into this glass and that, making them all bright and shiny for all her ministrations. "Aye, I /thought/ I knew the rotten git well... but.... only when it suits him, so it seems."
"You wouldn't want me to get berries smeared in the cracks, would you?" Kishairyn inquires softly, fairly oozing sweetness in the smile tilted obliquely over her shoulder. "I'll be done in a minute ..." Give or take an hour. "Oh, but everything has changed. The folk we used to work with now have the ability to either ignore us or order us around, and are exercising the privilege."
Gabriela steps into the kitchen, more than likely, knowing this bunch, following noise. "Who's doing what and why?" she murmurs as she leans against the door frame. That, she has discovered, is generally the best greeting, since it will offers explanations to naked guards and tubers molded into cotholds or whatever else they've decided to do this eve. "Has anyone gotten to talk to anyone else about our possible... excursion?" she whispers to Kishairyn as she steps further into the room.
Menacion just continues to eye Taire. "What did he do to you?" is polite question, finding a full bucket of soapy water and a mop. "Oh, don't worry about that, there's plenty of ash in the cracks anyway. The berries will help take some of the ash out." Menace isn't going to be taking no for an answer, here. "Oh, Hi Gaby, help me clean the hearths." It's not a request. Part of the bucket full of water gets sloshed onto the sooty ground.
Ashelyn has disconnected.
Taire grumbles some more as she moves on to utensils, sliding her cloth along the tines of the sporks. "I ain't never worked for /him/ and I ain't stopping now." She pours open her heart to the guy after all the horrors she has been through, and he shrugs her off. Ohhhhh, he shall pay. And he shall pay heavily. Steward or no steward. The girl's gaze flickers to Gabriela as she enters, chin lifting in greeting to the ex-trader.
Kishairyn snickers softly, still applying tongue to fingers at a slow lap. A little bit of berry only goes so far, however, and she moves next to put away the sort of kitchen tools she toted in with her. "What makes you think anything interesting is going on, Gaby?" Cough. "And no, we haven't," she answers in a normal tone of voice. "Won't be long, though, I'm sure." She blinks at Taire. "Don't you mean stopping?" She brandishes a wooden mixing spoon at Menace. "Busy still ..."
Menacion has disconnected.
Gabriela glances between the candidates, biting her lip in confusion. "Who is He, if I may ask?" she beckons quietly before blinking toward Menacion. "Why? Can't you do it yourself? I'll... polish this table. It needs a good polishing." She glances over at Taire again, shaking her head. "Maybe you'll Impress, Taire," she whispers with a soft smile. "And you can not feed your lifemate for two sevendays and then sic him after this man." She winks as she grabs a rag, not heading for the hearths, that's for sure. She shrugs slightly at Kisha's question before replying. "Because I know you all. Something interesting is /always/ going on, and if not, then... well... I'll have to take care of that, now won't I?" Like how? And for Gaby's next magical trick, she will crawl under the table and be quiet! Wow! And the crowd goes in awe... "Yes, if no one else does, I'll mention it to someone, I suppose."
Aryion steps into the kitchen from the lower caverns.
Taire's lips curl to the side. "Boy gets me so flustered. I ment starting. I sure ain't starting to work for him now." She'd just like to see him try to order her around. *grumble* At first, she is a touch alarmed at Gabriela's suggestion, almost horrified at the concept of impression. Ah, but she gets beyond it for all the red she is seeing at this moment. "Aye... now that would be a welcome time to see a dragon eat someone." Lips twist into a fine line as she scrubs this eating utensil and that with great aplomb.
Kishairyn whistles softly. "Well, he gets you flustered, hmmm? Why would that be, praytell?" This is a convenient moment to lean against one of the tables, three utensils still clutched in her hand as her defense against anyone who might poke her about slacking off. "Yes. And there are still more dishes. And vegetables other than tubers to tend to. I'll be amazed if we get to the hearths tonight, unless we have help." A lot of it. She coughs. "I don't think it's quite that dire that I'd want to see him eaten ... unfair on the dragon's digestion system."
Gabriela chuckles toward Taire, grinning and shaking her head, as she begins to scrub the table. "I know what you mean, Taire," she mumbles with a smile at the part of being flustered before turning to Kisha with a shake of her head. "You're going to make that girl cut herself with a knife, Kish, so be careful..." she reprimands jokingly and with a wink. "I say we leave the hearths for Menace. He did leave without finishing them. We can see about getting to the other things. And I don't think a dragon would eat a man anyway... But it's sometimes nice to think about."
Aryion emerges from the living cavern, white and auburn hair flying out behind him. He is drawn to the kitchen for one thing only, food. He pauses as soon as he enters, discovering three of his fellow candidates at work, and the head steward overseeing them. Uh oh. He continues on into the room, "Hello all! My looks like you could use some help?" Better to offer then to be told to do it. Grabbing up a meatroll and some klah, finishes them off pretty quickly and steadies himself for the chores. Picking up on the conversation, "who gets Taire flustered?" Sounds like he did walk into a good conversation.
Taire can't help but chuckle at Kish's last statement. "Very true. Very, very true." Her scrubbing looses some of its raw ferocity. She gently arranges the utensils off to the side before dipping few serving platters into the dishwater, washcloth working around and round them. And now all of the insinuations, "He is old enough to be my da!" Well, she never really asked him his age before, but that protest sounds good at this moment.
Kishairyn grins. "Well, that would definitely get her out of cleaning the hearth if she did cut her hand," she remarks, kicking back her foot. "And really, Taire ... such a protest! As long as he isn't your father..." An anxious gaze is cast around her, realizing that being idle really isn't a smart idea with all the kitchenfolk wandering in and out. "Need some help, Taire? Say, drying?" That seems to be a relatively easy task. She flashes a cheerful smile at Aryion. "Murkat. Clean the hearths."
Klachtga steps into the kitchen from the lower caverns.
Gabriela waves toward Aryion as she glances up from her work. "He, whoever he is, is destined to remain nameless," she mumbles in a deep, ominous-sounding voice before grinning. "Well, whoever he is, drop him and find some young stud with lots of marks... Yeah, that sounds good. I read a book once, where this girl... Nevermind." Get Gaby talking about what she's read, and she'll never be quiet. So she sets to scrubbing once more. She wrinkles her nose at Kish, grimacing. "Oh, Kish that's just disgusting... Please tell me he's not your father, Taire. Oh! He's not nameless anymore. Who's Murkat? Not your father, I would hope... but the dude... who's not your father?" Yes, she is a little confused.
Klachtga moves into the kitchen, her features slightly pale she moves towards the klah.
Klachtga quickly wraps the ribbons streaming from her arms around her wrist as she reaches to pour klah into her cup from the ladle. She takes a sip, and sighs, turning her pale blue eyes around the room for a moment.
Aryion is completely lost on the girls’ conversation and is not even going to try to start to figure it out. Casting Gabby a helpless look and a brief shrug he moves over toward them to help out where he can. The girls are scrubbing, he could dry? Yes that would be good of him, help dry. He glances back around the room and notices the new arrival. A nod in greeting and a "Hello" is cast toward the slightly pale girl.
Okay, so maybe there is hardly 10 turns between Taire's age and Murkat's. But at this point, she will protest in any ways that she can. She looks a touch uncomfortable before waving Kish over with her wet rag, "Aye, drying. That'd be welcome." But loverly Gaby just has to erg it on, "Ohhh, get your minds out of the midden heap, will you?" Ah, but for all her furious denials and such, a slow hint of a flush draws its way up her neck, bringing a warmth to her cheeks she would much prefer banished. Quick, save face. A finger jabs out, pointing Aryion in the direction of the hearths, "Clean those." Bossy, isn't she?
Klachtga arches a brow slightly in the hello and nods. She moves silently closer towards the warmth of the fire holding her cup as she stares into the flames.
Murkat steps back in just to hear a comment about the midden heap. "That's right. The old ashes need to be dumped there." No doubt they already knew that. "So, how are things going? Bright and shinny I hope." Maybe that's just a little bit too much to hope for.
Aryion's smile droops slightly as he is banished to clean the hearths. He reaches around Taire to get a rag and quickly whispers something in her ear before turning and heading to the hearth. Nodding at Murkat, "Is there something other than the hearth that needs to be done sir?" Ary is always the helpful one.
Kishairyn decides that the best strategy is to not be noticed, and so, back to Murkat as she quietly dries dishes, her shoulders dip almost imperceptibly, and she speaks in a murmured undertone that is meant not to be suspicious. "Sorry, Gaby," she says. "I did say that, in that circumstance, I should certainly hope things are not as they seem ..." Her lips twitch. "My mind seems to be more in this book Gaby read than the midden heap, for the matter of that ..."
Klachtga pulls her eyes away from the flames, blinking back into focus she glances around for a moment. Her cup empty now she reaches in for another cup.
"Hello there," Gabriela whispers to the newcomer before moving toward the hearths with a grimace. "This is just... wrong. What do I do?" She sighs as she peers at the hearths from many directions, still grimacing. She blinks at Taire, shrugging. "I'll tell you about my love life if it makes you more comfortable. I've told Kish about it before." Really, the whole story takes about five seconds to tell. And you know those sea-bred folks. They love telling stories-- though, in Gab's case, it's only when two or three friends are her audience. "Come on, Ary. You can help me. I have no clue what I'm doing." She blinks again, this time at the steward. "Old ashes are dumped there? So where do we dump the new ashes?" Is she sarcastic or just ditzy? Hard to tell... She chuckles over at Kisha, shrugging. "Just an old romance novel. Surely the men here won't like to hear that sort of thing."
Klachtga nods silently to Gabriela, as she moves away from the fires to a place out of the way. Her eyes gaze to Murkat, thinking to herself she raises her cup again and takes a sip.
Taire casts a glance after Aryion, lips working and softening. Ahh, but /he/ returns. Suds go spraying everywhere as Murkat is back and Taire is one amazing shade of red. Alas, it quickly shifts from embarrassment and on to something that melds well with her flashing eyes. Ah yes, anger.
Murkat doesn't even seem to notice the emotions making their way across Taire's face. He's far too busy examining the hearths, which seem not to have even been started on yet. "Nope, not a thing Aryion. Those hearths are top priority right now. Gotta get them cleaned up so that we can be prepared." And of course he could have the drudges clean them, but it's so much more fun to make them do it. The sea trader is eyed. "New ashes? Sure, why don't you just dump them in the midden heap as well." How exactly did this girl get to become a candidate?
Klachtga allows a smile to touch her lips as she listens. Tipping her cup alittle she sips the steaming klah. Her slender hand reaches out to touch the edge of a shelf, frowning slightly at the dust. Shrugging she continues to listen.
K'lyn steps into the kitchen from the lower caverns.
Klachtga 's eyes follow as K`lyn enters into the kitchen.
Aryion heads toward Gabby, "Gabby, it looks like you could use some help." After setting his rag down he reaches back and ties his hair at his neck, gotta get it out of the way for chores. Casting Gabby a sideways glance, Ary nods back over his shoulder at Taire's reaction to Murkat. Releasing a little sigh, he smiles and begins to help Gab clean the hearths, keeping an ear out for other interesting bits of conversation. A slight nod in greeting goes to the newly arrived rider as he sets about his work.
Kishairyn chuckles softly. "Is this how old wives' tales come into being, Gaby?" she inquires. "I think the love of your life is really very sweet ... and that depends on the man and the kind of romance novel, I think ..." Though her features flush with a hint of guilt, she continues drying with no more than a whisper of the cloth on dishes. No point in making unnecessary sound.
Gabriela didn't do it. At least, she hopes she didn't. So she quietens and grabs some pails of soapy water, heading for the hearths once more. Looking first at Aryion, she gestures toward some empty buckets then back to the hearths. Those will be helpful for getting the old ashes. "This is what we get when Menace runs out on his work," she whispers to Aryion after nodding at the steward's instructions. She looks up at Kishairyn, nodding and grinning. "More than likely!" she replies with a wink. "The love of my life was seven turns old," she replies with a sigh. Don't get ill. She's not done. "I was six. He was an older man..." She turns swiftly around to the hearths again; ready to shovel out the ashes.
Taire, with soapy suds up to her elbows, leaves her washing work as is and quickly advances upon Murkat with all due ferocity. As the girl stalks right on up to him, that flash to her eyes seems to dominate her features. "Murkat! I've a bone to pick with you." Open-palmed hands flash out and push with all their might against his chest, which really isn't that much might considering who it is coming from. "Its been /how/ long?! And I throw myself at you... and... and you shrug me off! You haul off 'n never visit me anymore! You totally ignore me. And when you see me, you... you... you..." She is reduced to sputtering now.
Klachtga coughs as she listening to the "love-of-your-life" conversation and tries to clear the klah from her windpipe.
K'lyn should have known that there would be a congregation of candidates in the kitchen - it truly is a common occurrence, then she supposes that there is some logic to it, there is lots to be done there. The greenrider stops and looks to the steward who's words she happens to catch as she enters. "Prepared for what? A run on the cookstaff?" She says with a smile, as she winks at Murk.
Murkat just watches as the two candies begin on the hearths. Finally, someone getting around to that. Just then, his favorite messenger storms up. Stumbling back only slightly at the shove, he stares down at her. "Now that wasn't called for. How are you Taire, I guess it's been a while..." Isn't that the truth. Spying K'lyn, he makes his way over. "Yeah, trying to get things cleaned up. Just in time to dirty them all over again." Don't you just love hatchings?
Aryion turns and stares at Taire, mouth hanging wide open in shock. Now was it not just this morning that he saw her blow up at Menace in just the same way? This should be interesting. His eyebrows raise as he idly wipes the hearth with his rag, more intent on the Taire-ism going on the other side of the room. Thankfully his mouth closes on its own. Things were never this interesting down at Smith, rag cleaning the hearth as he stands gaping over his shoulder.
Kishairyn drops her face in the towel to muffle her laughter. "There is something to be said for older men," she agrees. "Mostly because they mature far later than women do ... you have to know when to pick them." She turns slightly to watch the face-off that turns out to be rather a disappointment, eyes intent. "My opinion is," she mutters under her breath, "if it's just going to get dirty again, why clean it?"
K'lyn raises an eyebrow at Taire's greeting of the steward, and then shrugs wondering curiously what brought that on. "You know her well?" The greenrider asks the steward, her tone curious to match her expression. But the look of curiosity gives way to a broad smile. "Yes indeed, candidacy is a wonderful time." She can say that now that her's is long past. "Doing menial labor is always rewarding." Was that a hint of sarcasm?
Taire's eyes flash ever more as Murkat seems to dismiss her once more. "Ohhhh, no you /don't/." The fourteen turn-old bounces forward once more, quickly inserting herself between the steward and rider. She isn't about to let him slide out of this yet again, stewards knot or no. "Why, you belly-crawling 'snake. Shaffit, you ain't gettin' off so easy. Just a couple of slick words 'n you think that’s /it/. Like /thread/." The girl rises to her tippy-toes as her glare is turned onto him, "Just who do you think you are!" With that last one, she puts all of her most haughty nastiness she can possibly possess into it.
Klachtga shakes her head sadly to think this is what kind of displays a Weyr offers. She moves to refresh her cup of klah.
Gabriela peeks toward Taire, managing to keep her jaw from dropping. "Doesn't she realize she's a candidate now? Things are different," she murmurs toward no one in particular before shoving some of the "old" ashes in a bucket. She grins up toward Kish, shrugging. "I've not met anyone since then, I guess," she replies quietly, with a blush and giggle before whispering again. "Is Taire okay? Do we need to call in a healer?"
Aryion hides his silent laughter behind his hand, hearth completely forgotten now as he has turned and is staring with a bemused look on his face at the exchanges between Murkat and Taire. Nudging Gabby he indicates the excitement, leaning over to whisper, "this is getting pretty good. Knew Taire had it in her." Eyes twinkle with hidden mirth as he watches the show.
Kishairyn shakes her head. "Looks like the person who's going to need a healer is him," she murmurs in an amused undertone, sliding up onto the table amidst the stacks and piles of wet and dry dishes. Her feet dangle, though she keeps them from thumping: no sense in drawing unwanted attention. She grins at Aryion. "Bet you could escape now, if you tried ..."
Murkat nods toward the rider. "Aye, you could say that." As the tiny messenger inserts herself between the two of them, he turns back to her. Holding up his hands, he tries to look innocent. "What did I do?!?" He's not mad, not yet anyways. But by the way things are going, it might not be too long. Especially since all the other candies are basically watching and laughing. Turning to the rest of them, he tries his best to glare. "Back to work, all of you!" Nothing to see here, not at all.
Taire totally ignores all images of purported innocence. NopeNope. The girl lifts a fisted hand. And instead of striking him, a finger flashes and waggles in his direction, not all that far from his face. "After all I've been through! After all that has been done! And you... you... you /ignore/ me. You just toss me aside like the rest of your women." Wait, maybe she doesn't really wanna be associated in that sort of way. Finger continues to waggle as she steps closer, "I actually hugged you 'n you could have cared less! You bordo-lovin', muck-swilling, bovine-arse!"
Klachtga has disconnected.
The greenrider's expression transforms from one of shock to one of utter disgust. First, you don't place yourself between K'lyn and Murk, it's just not a wise move. She moves so as to step behind Murk, and wrap an arm around his waist, all the while shooting Taire a venom-filled expression. "You do realize candidate, that you are now guilty of insubordination? You're planning on mucking out the stable single-handed? Or would you prefer that I dismiss the other candidates and let you finish the kitchen alone? You do /not/ talk to your superiors that way, understand?!"
Gabriela would pull out some popcorn, but Pern probably doesn't have any. She nods toward Aryion, agreeing as long as she stays out of seething range. She settles on the ground so she can watch and work at the same time, and she glances up toward Kishairyn, shaking her head. "If she hurts him, I'll bet the weyrleaders will be sharding upset." At Murkat's outburst, she lifts her full scooper, succeeding in raining ashes all over herself. Sputtering, she sticks the scoop into the bucket. "I just left the baths, too..." she grumbles as she reaches for a rag, nearly toppling several chairs over in her attempt. Face now crimson, she returns to the hearth. Even Taire's harsher words don't bring her eyes up from her work, though she does lean over to mumble to Aryion, "What'd she do now?" Oh, the greenrider's words bring her vision back to their level, however, as the trader girl bites her lip.
Aryion casts Kisha a sly grin as and a too late shrug as he turns back to cleaning the hearths. Yup, orders obeyed sir! He continues to clean, keeping his mouth shut, but his ears open to the exchanges going on behind him. At Taire's string of curses he jumps up and hits the back of his head on a over-hanging flume. Rubbing one hand on the bump on his head, and the other one cleaning with the rag he listens intently at the continuing conversation. A quick glance at Gabby, Ary mouths a "oh no" to her at the greenrider's words.
Kishairyn remains on the counter, but goes rather half-heartedly back to drying ... all this without once looking away, enrapt - if dismayed, on some level - by the altercation. She shakes her head, with no intentions of leaving Taire to handle things on her own. "Maybe they'll send her home," she murmurs to Gabriela, hoping for the other candidate's sake, although the next several months are already hard to visualize without the feisty messenger.
Murkat's hand reaches up and behind him to gently touch Lynn. She's got the right idea. "What exactly have you been through? And how was I supposed to know. And I didn't ignore you. I said hi." He just has his big bad reputation to protect. "And I didn't say I could care less." At the stream of words that follow, his face hardens. "And I suggest you watch your choice of words, /candidate./" The stress on the title is clear. The title is temperary, and can be remedied at any time she wishes. As for the rest, Lynn seems to have covered that nicely."
Taire doesn't spare a single glance to K'lyn. She'll bare the brunt of any sort of punishment, and gladly. It'll be worth it in her attempts to bring Murkat low. And Ohhh, how she is so very determined to do so. Beware the wrath of a Taire scorned. All she sees before her at this point is one long, red tunnel and the beast that is Murkat at the end of it. When he left, her rather passing anger simmered into quite the boiling point. "Come fall, fire or fog, you withie-livered, son-of-a-" The girl immediately cuts off, sputters for a long moment at his return of words. Her rise of emotions become so intense that the girl just opens and clothes her mouth in the perfect rendition of a fingertail. "I... I... I..." A single tear winds it way down her cheek before she takes a long step away, buries her head in her hands and just starts weeping.
On your right, you will see Gabriela, face a dark crimson as she proudly wears dark patches of soot on her skin, hair and clothing. Beside her, view Aryion, the one with the bump on the back of his head. Before you... yes, the lovely Kishairyn, the *snicker* quiet and amused. In the center of the room, witness the spectacle: Taire the Vehement as she unmasks the sharding man of doom, who is being protected by the wiles of a greenrider. Yes, this is quite a show. Gabriela glances up at Kishairyn, shaking her head as she traces patterns in ashes with her fingers. "Oh, I hope not. I'm sure she just needed to get that out of her system. She'll be good now, surely." Gab can hope. She nearly jumps up from her seat to hand something to Taire to wipe her eyes, or at least to comfort the girl. But now... see, this is the test. The candidates shouldn't be the ones comforting the lass.
K'lyn can see that Taire is obviously hurting, but she will not allow that as an excuse for such behavior. "Candidate, straighten yourself up. This behavior is unacceptable, you need to exercise a little bit of self control. Feel free to confront people you have a problem with, however - there are much more appropriate venues. You've now made a spectacle of yourself and Murkat, did you really want to do that? Now, I suggest you regain your composure, and then you will report to me for your next assignment, is that clear?" Send her home? No, never, though she won't be seeing much of the barracks any time soon.
Kishairyn draws in a sharp gasp, sliding off the table in a raucous jangle of dishes. "Oh my ..." she whispers, shaking her head at Gaby's words. "But she's said it before ... she wants to go home, doesn't she?" Realizing her voice is too loud; she swallows hard, biting the corner of her lip. "Taire ..." The sea trader may think of it as a test, but it's all Kish can do to keep herself from rushing over, tuber knife brandished, if necessary.
Murkat hardened features take on a slight look of surprise at the messenger's reaction. He couldn't let her get away with what she was doing, but maybe it was a little much. He makes no move, instead letting Lynn deal with the situation. Aryion's glare isn't missed and as the former smith turns back to the hearth, Murkat stares right at the back of his head, his voice hard again. "Is there a problem...smith?" Better hope not, otherwise he'll be next. Kish is eyed as well, his glare almost daring her to cross him.
Taire sniffles 'n snuffles and basicly makes a mess of herself. Something that might be conscrued as an affirmative to K'lyn's words is managed between hiccups. Face never resurfaces though as the girl turns tail and runs out the door, snuffling miserably the whole time.
"Want to go dump this, or shall I, Ary?" Gabriela murmurs, nodding toward a full bucket. She has to keep her attention away /somehow/. She pauses slightly to hear K'lyn's words, only nodding slowly as she resumes scooping and scrubbing. Looking up at Kish, she finally sets down her tools, closing her eyes for a moment. "Surely there are easier ways... like just saying: Can I go home?" She turns quickly toward Taire's retreating figure, standing slowly. "Oh, my... Should we go after her?" Part of her is ready to march out the door, but the other part realizes the rider and steward standing behind her.
