Mharen, Guard at Fort Weyr

2690.11.21 - Deflecting Attention

2011-10-10T18:03:12Z

Fort Weyr - Ground Entrance - SW Bowl

The dominant feature of the southern end of the bowl is the blue lake that fills the entire southern tip and the rockslide that tumbles down into its far side. It has been many, many, turns since the slide took place, but it still stands uncleared to this day. Occasionally, smaller pebbles tumble down to splash into the waters of the lake below, but the mass seems mostly stable. Sturdy fences mark the feeding pens that the dragons may choose their meals from, located against the west face. The beasthold here is minor, small cramped buildings, used mostly to maintain the herds which feed the dragons. The major beasthold is located out in the forests, just outside the Weyr. There's a sign which warns "that beasts in this location are fair game to the dragons" and that any domestic pleasure stock should be kept in the major beasthold location.

The other feature that does not go unnoticed in this bowl is the large cavernous archway. There seems to be cobble stone laid down near the archway, which causes a clatter when the wagons and trading caravans arrive. Indeed, it seems that there's a tunnel out of the bowl here, wide enough for two trader caverns to fit through and possibly a small blue dragon. To the opposite end, the great bowl stretches away far, leading to some very interesting locations.

Snow, snow, and more snow. Luckily there's been a break in the weather that has been plauging the Fort skies for a majority of the day, and enough Time enough has passed since the last batch of flurries for paths to be shoveled out, but late enough that there is few out and about. A few hours past dinner, Kairhys is found trudging along the bowl from the direction of the living caverns. Nose and ear tips are just starting to pink up, suggesting he just came from some place warm. He'd bundled up pretty well though, as if he intended to be out and about for longer than a quick jaunt across the bowl. A tiny blue head pokes out from beneath the collar of his tweed coat, whirling green eyes taking in the silent scenery. Spotting a place to sit, the weaver makes a b-line for it, dropping down with a shiver and jamming his hands in his pockets.

Mharen crunches up the path from the direction of the guard barracks, a knitted hat pulled low over her plaited hair. Wrapped snugly in a coat and scarf, she's cutting a straight line through the snow toward the caverns, slowing her progress only to tip a bland look at Kairhys and his little friend as they take a seat. Rolling her eyes faintly, the tall woman exhales heavily before altering her trajectory so that she can pass the shivering weaver. "Trying to catch a cold to get out of your early wake-up call, I take it?" And that's Mharen's version of 'hi, how are you?'

The cold weather has more than just Kairhys bundling up. Shena is in several layers of warm clothing to shield her from the snow, grumbling a little as she returns towards the caverns after delivering yet another package to some far-flung corner of the bowl. She passes by near Kairhys and Mharen, giving each a curious look.

Kairhys isn't wearing a hat, no. Perhaps worried it would mess with his hair or something. He scrunches down though, hunching his shoulders and making some feeble attempt to keep himself warmer. Or smaller. Or both. The firelizard snuggled up against his neck tucks his head in and disappears, causing the weaver to twitch some and grimice. "That hurts Muse. Ow. Ow.....OW!" he winces, hands coming out of his pockets and half way to where his jacket seems to have a life of it's own. "Hello, to..you...to...Mharen." His voice is strained, at one point forced past clench teeth before he all but collapses in relief. Where ever the creature had settled, he had settled, and that seemed to be enough for Kai. He eyes his own torso dubiously before lifting his head and grinning at the guard. "Gunna stay and keep me warm?" he teases, giving the woman a wink.

Hazel eyes narrow a disdainful look down at the lad and an irritated puff escapes Mharen's lips. "Not even in your daydreams, weaver-boy, " is her dismissive answer, arms folding across her chest. Nice try. There's a half-glance for Shena as the girl approaches, followed by a brisk, "But maybe she will if you ask nicely enough. She's around my sister's age, far more appropriate for you."

Shena is just about to walk on by when she picks up on the snippet of conversation between the unfamiliar duo where she is being discussed. She pauses in her tracks, first eyeing Mharen, then Kairhys with a somewhat dubious and mildly suspicious expression. "Maybe I'll do what now?"

Kairhys laughs and brushes off the rejection, likely taking it no more seriously then the proposal in the first place. Though the boy's eyes do slide on over to Shena, brows lifting some before his expression shifts from appraising to not so much displeased. "Hmm not bad. Not too fat, not too thin, takes care in her appearance." he mentions to Mharen, and then a coy little smirk draws up one side of his lips. "But there is something to be said about a mature woman in full blossom that calls to me." A pause and he leans back on his hands upon the bench he'd chosen as his perch, fur-lined gloves keeping long slender digits protected from the chilly stone. "And how would you know what I've been day dreaming about." He eyes her something wicked and full out grins. "Have you been peeking at my diary?" There is not a single shread of seriousness there, even as his attention shifts off of Mharen to Shena. "Mharen here was trying to divert my playful banter off of her onto you. Apparently she believe you are age appropriate." Amused. So, very amused.

Mharen stares, not unlike an incredulous fish. "It must be your lack of maturity that causes you to seek it out. Grow up, little weaver Kairhys." A hand lifts to impatiently flick a gesture between Kairhys and Shena. "Make friends with him, would you?" asks her casual alto. "He follows me like an unnecessary trundlebug."

Shena's jaw drops. For a moment she's simply stammering before she can come up with a coherant reply. Then she narrows her eyes and stomps towards Kairhys, snow crunching under her shoes. "I'm sorry, not /too/ fat? And are you saying I'm not mature? Who do you think you are, just saying those kinds of things about women passing by that you don't even know?" She plants her hands on her hips, fuming and glaring. She glances at Mharen, incredulous. "I sure hope you're not the one who taught him his 'manners'."

Kairhys simply grins at Mharen, "I'm sixteen, how mature exactly were you expecting?" he asks of her, and then laughs again when she tells him to grow up. "There's plenty of time to grow up, I'm in no rush." The flicked gesture between himself and Shena is followed, head tilted some off to one side before returning to the guard once more. "Whoa wait. What? I follow...you?" That's when he bursts out laughing, the mirth plain to hear. "If only the thought had occured to me." That said, back to Shena he goes and he blinks a few times. "Yes, not to fat, not too thin. Just right. What is so terrible about that?" he wonders, brows lifting. "I have no idea if you're mature or not. For one you're wearing far to many clothes, and for two I don't even know you." An honest reply, from the look on his face. Completely without malice or amusement. "I wouldn't even of noticed if Mharen here wasn't trying to deflect my attention off of herself onto someone I suppose she felt was closer it my age. I do wonder what was the point of her coming over to begin with." A blink and brown eyes and chin lift back towards the gaurds woman. A brow arches.

Mharen barks out a laugh, too, but it's not very mirthful and given for very different reasons. "It's stupid to sit out in the cold when there are warm hearths up that way, " she answers defensively. "Weyrfolk welfare and safety is supposed to be my business." And she resumes her crunching stalk to the main cavern, gait brisk. Shena will have to get a proper introduction another time.

2690.10.21 - A Rude Respite

2011-10-03T19:35:33Z

Fort Weyr - Storage Room
This room is filled with shelves, crates and boxes of dried goods, material, and other necessities of weyr life. The shelves are kept neat and tidy at all times and the floor has been swept clean recently. Occasionally a candidate or fosterling can be found in here cleaning and tidying, or checking for signs of tunnel snake or other pest infestations.

It's amazing the places that one can find to get respite from the bustle of Weyr life. The large storage room off the kitchens is normally quite busy, but right it provides a peaceful refuge for Idralia under the pretense of checking over the stores of light bulbs on hand. Instead of doing this work, the crafter has made a comfortable seat in an out of the way corner using a crate and some linens. Perched there, Idralia is reading, a small headlamp serving for illumination as most of the glow baskets in the room have been left closed.

Near the entrance, a hissed curse disturbs the relative quiet of the storage room, followed soon after by a stronger string of invectives before the illumination increases sharply in that part of the cavern. Having dislodged a glow basket to free the luminescence, Mharen unfolds her long frame, a hand extending to lean against the nearest wall while she regains her bearings. Nudging the glows back together with the toe of a boot, the guard carefully replaces the basket, leaving its lid pushed far aside as she carefully moves toward the shelves. Gait ginger, it's a pause near the end of a row that brings Idralia's cozy little haven into sight. Mouth pursing into a frown, an eyebrow lifts slightly as she stares at the technician's setup. A careful pivot turns her attention to the contents of the shelf, however, and she busies herself with pulling down one of the higher crates to rummage through.

Idralia looks up as the guard stumbles in, her headlamp casting enough glow along the path to her little corner to make that stretch, at least, a trip-free area. The guard's frown elicits a matching lifted brow from the crafter, who inquires politely, "Is there a problem?" without stirring from her perch. A pause, then she offers, "Want to borrow the light? It's a lot sharper than what the glows can give you, especially in a confined space like this."

"Most people tend to prefer reading by the hearth, I would think, " remarks Mharen coolly. Hands tightening around the chosen crate, she lowers it to the floor with little trouble, squatting next to it to peer cautiously inside. Without glancing up, she waves a dismissive hand for the offer of the light, too focused on her search to bother with an immediate, vocal response. After several minutes of items knocking uselessly against one another, the tall woman sits back on her heels to exhale in frustration. The crate receives a glare that would promise a good kick to the side, if such an action were sensible.

"If the aunties would leave one in peace there, I would," is Idralia's relaxed response. "As it is, this is a much more peaceful place to read, and I'm well out of anyone's way." Though the offer has been declined the techie watches Mharen's search, which means the light stays focused on the crate. When the guard sits back the crafter asks, "I take it what you are looking for isn't where it should be?"

Mharen nudges the rejected container aside--gently, to her credit, before getting to her feet to try for another. "No, I'm taking stock of this shelf's inventory for sheer pleasure, " comes the sarcastic retort as she pulls another crate down to the floor. More rummaging follows; the contents rattle loudly from side to side as her hand sweeps quickly through the pile. "Do little shelves get filed with knickknacks?" the guard asks at last, grudgingly reluctant.

"There's no need to snap at me. You could have found that what you were looking for was broken, or there were fewer than you hope," Idra points out, voice still calm. She continues to watch the guard, since it's rather difficult to read with someone making all that noise nearby. At the question she shrugs. "Not in my experience, but it may be that someone sorted those out of the general clutter recently and tries to organize them by putting them all together in one place." Since her last offer of help was turned down the crafter doesn't bother making another, simply sitting there and waiting to see what the guard does next.

"If by fewer you mean 'none, ' you're accurate, " Mharen settles for saying after a bit. Having given up on her search, the guard restores the crates to their original locations, arms crossing impatiently afterward. Gray-green eyes cast a narrow glance at Idralia's sitting and waiting, expression bland. "Well? Shall I try to sing or dance? Surely your reading material, " a look over at whatever the journeyman had been reading, "is more riveting than my clumsy antics."

Idralia's reading material turns out to be schematics for electrical wiring of lighting fixtures, dry reading for most people. "If you feel like singing and dancing, by all means. I might recommend against the dancing, however, given the limited space for movement. As for my reading, I came here to read in peace. At the moment, peace is rather lacking. If, however, you would like some assistance, I would be quite willing to set aside my reading, which I am making no progress on anyway, and help you search for... whatever it is you are looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything, actually, " rejoins Mharen with a swift shrug. "I'll leave you to make progress on your reading." Contrary to her brush-off, she moves several paces farther away to tug yet another crate down from a high shelf, shoveling through it before finally spotting a box of small, mountable shelves stacked two rows up from the floor. Awkwardly folding her legs as she sits, lanky arms pull that container to her; a short search seems to yields something of appropriate length that's suitable for being mounted above a small hearth, stained a dark red. At any rate, she holds it up before settling it onto the floor with a clatter, shuffling the other crates around rather loudly as she replaces them where they belong.

Idralia snorts softly at Mharen's reply, shaking her head when the guard brushes off her second offer of help. "And dragons don't eat meat," she murmurs to herself, turning back to the stack of papers. She doesn't do much reading, though, since Mharen's moving around is just noisy enough to break her concentration when she's trying to puzzle out the notations. Since it is impossible to glance covertly with a light fixed to her forehead, the craft instead attempts to completely ignore the guard and stares blankly at the papers.

After more than sufficient shuffling and scraping, Mharen's errand into the storage cavern must finally be complete. She's hefted the little shelf-like awning up under one arm and is striding away from the boxes and crates, clearly intent on getting out as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, she neglects to leave Idralia an apology; on her way out, she does, however, push the lid back onto the glowbasket that she dislodged after entering.

2690.10.9 - Of Bedtimes and Baths

2011-09-30T16:18:10Z

Fort Weyr - Bathing Cavern
A high, domed ceiling stretches far overhead, voices echoing in the distance. Warm, moist air fills the room, coming from the variety of pools scattered about. Vines have been planted in baskets and grow up the walls, thriving in the soft artificial light provided by glows placed at random intervals about the room.

Everyone has to wash at some point, it's only polite. As the opposite would be not bathing, and causing people to pass out as you walk by could certainly be considered rude. Not that this is an issue for Kairhys who's up bright and early, long before sane people would even have roused themselves from their dreams to sneak off to the bathing cavern. Yawning, he strips himself from his sleep pants and t-shirt, skivvies the last to be removed before he folds up everything nice and neat and puts his towel on top. Satisfied with this, he turns towards the steamy pools and the cavern's accompanying haze and blinks a few times before shuffling off to find himself a place to wash. He's not at least so asleep that he trips and falls in, but there are a few close calls before he does indeed step into one and hissing, carefully lowers himself up to his neck.

Head tipped back, eyes closed and hair, quite soaked, Mharen's similarly submerged at the other end of the weaver's chosen pool. Judging by her expression, she's all but fallen asleep, lulled by the soothing warmth, the steam and the relative silence. Unfortunately, Kairhys' nearby hiss elicits a sudden tensing of frame, and green-gray eyes slit open a fraction. There's a bit of a displeased groan before the woman's eyes shut again; perhaps if she ignores him, he'll go away and her solitude will be restored.

It's likely the displeasured groan of the guardswoman that has Kairhys suddenly aware of the fact that in the reatively empty bathing cavern at this rediculous hour, he's still managed to find the one pool with someone actually in it. "Coming off shift or going on?" he asks, stiffling another yawn with the back of one wet hand lifted from the coma inducing water. If Mharen had hoped to scare off the weaver, well, apparently it takes more than effort than given thus far to chase the boy off. It might even be a miricle that he remembered who the woman was in the first place, especially half asleep as he is. Brown eyes hooded, he leans back against the lip of the pool, hooking elbows there.

Brow furrowing, Mharen re-opens first one eye, then the other. Try as she might to wish him away, Kairhys is still here. Worse, he's talking. "Off, " grumbles she at last, pulling her hands from the water to inspect the now-wrinkly pads of her fingers. "You're the kid from the lake, " she remembers, tilting her chin slightly to eye the fluffy towel next to her clothing speculatively. "What are you doing up so late? Or is it early, now."

Kairhys ah's softly and nods, seeming content with that as his eyes slide closed. No, he wasn't going anywhere, but it did appear in that second that he was at least done with the niceties and was going to be quiet. That is, until Mharen speaks again, and the boy chuckles, "Kairhys. Yes. And you are Mharen." Does he get points for remembering her name? Unlikely, but at least he's smiling about it. Eyes still closed, the weaver listens as silence comes, some tension in his shoulders lessening before once again the woman is talking. Brown hued slits peek past the boy's dark lashes for a second before his grin widens and he eases himself back completely. "I am an apprentice. The Journeyman I'm assigned to likes to be up /before/ the crack of dawn. He expects me to be bathed, dressed in clean neat clothes and ready to listen to him drone on and on about the complexities of advanced dye." He chuckles at this.

Mharen tugs her towel closer to the edge of the pool, sacrificing some modesty in favor of not having to take several steps forward once she's out of the water. "Kairhys, " the guard repeats, alto gravelly from being in that twilight phase between wakefulness and sleep. While he explains his journeyman's specific requirements, she takes that opportunity to haul herself out of the bathwater, quickly wrapping her towel around her. "Quite like weyrlinghood, then, according to my brother. Up early, at the mercy of your superiors and trying to learn something while in a half-asleep stupor. Of course, that also reminds me of my first turn as a guard, " she adds wryly, dropping her towel after a bit to pull her long nightshirt over her head in a quick series of movements.

So what if the weaver takes a peek when Mharen sacrifices her modesty there, brows lifting some before he sinks a bit lower with a fraction of a smirk drawing up one side of his mouth. Of course that does not mean that Kairhys doesn't look just a tiny bit disappointed that she gets so quickly out and covered. Or perhaps it's the loss of potencial company. "I wouldn't know anything about weyrlinghood. Family is holdbred back as many generations as we can remember, and not a single dragonrider among us." he says easily enough, rolling off him like water off the preverbial water avian's back. He's not even bothering to try and check out the woman's naked body anymore, having pulled himself up onto the lip and is now scrubbing at lean limbs and clearly defined muscle. Kid works out. "Or being a guard for that matter....leaving already?" he asks, now looking at her full out with no restraint, but she did have her nightshirt on now. Nothing to see, and yet his interest remains. "And here I was hoping for a little company before the drudgery of the rest of the day."

"He's the only one in our family who actually accepted Search and had something come of it, " Mharen rejoins as she finishes toweling off her hair briskly. "Our parents are disappointed that we 'ran off to the Weyr to make nothing of ourselves, '" she quotes, sarcastic. "The closest I ever got to the experience was doing the chores, cobbling together the white robe, all of that. H'drian was the one of us who's meant to ride, I suppose." An eyebrow lifts, followed swiftly by a barking laugh for his inquiry. "It's past my bedtime. Didn't your mother ever tell you that you'd turn into a gourd or some other kind of vegetable if you didn't end your day when you were told to?" Twisting the towel and her hair together atop her head, she picks up the rest of her clothes, stuffing them unceremoniously under an arm. "I'm sure you'll have company soon enough. Some of the headwoman's assistants bathe early."

Kairhys has finished scrubbing at himself and his hair, sliding back into the pool to rinse himself clean. He probably missed some part in the middle there but not not more than a few words. "None of us have been search. Like, ever." he chuckles, perhaps even long enough for her bark to mingle with his lighter and more carefree laughter. Though at her following question the weaver contemplates a moment before he shrugs broad shoulders and shakes his head, grinning up at the woman from his postion of still in the pool. "Hmmm, no. She pretty much let us go to sleep when we wanted, course, she also woke uus up early regardless of what time we finally closed our eyes. We learned pretty quick to go to sleep at a decent hour, and she saved herself a whole lot of headaches. Smart woman, my mother." He beams with pride, though a sly sort of look feathers over his features subtly. "Well I was hoping for conversation but I suppose I could work on something...with less talking." he grins, leaning back against the side of the pool again. "Thanks for the tip." A wink is sent the guardwoman's way.

Mharen steadfastly ignores the weaver's wink, rolling her eyes as she stalks past him to head for the entrance. "Good night, apprentice weaver Kairhys, " floats back firmly over her shoulder. Something with less talking, indeed.

2690.10.1 - Keeping Busy

2011-09-29T01:49:32Z

Fort Weyr - Shenanigan's Lounge
The natural walls of this cavern haven been completely covered and replaced by straight and sometimes curving walls of brickwork. There's method to the madness of covering stone with stone. It's as simple as the electric buzz in the room. New grade electric lights dot the fancy brick worked walls, with wires cleverly hidden behind, allowing more focus to be centered on the rest of the room rather than the numerous strings of wire needed to operate the lighting. Each bulb roosts in a bronzed metal flowering fixture, giving the room a rich atmosphere. Still, the walls are not the only place which has stone on stone appeal. The floor has been run smooth, the surface now slate rock, creating an imperial cast.
Beyond the actual foundations of the lounge, the luxury continues. High backed wooden chairs with padded white seats have been stationed all around the room. Between the individual chairs are benches fashioned out of the same rich wood with pillows made to flatter the cushions. There are low lying coffee tables or end tables near the individual chairs, while there's larger dinning room sized tables with chairs to match scattered as well, giving much variety to those who find themselves in the room. Decorative hangings and framed artwork has been neatly hung around the room, but to offset the meticulous method of the room, there's some pieces that give a sporty feeling to the room - such as a fishing rod or a snow shoe.
Of course, the final appeal of the room comes in the form of it's purpose; athletic competition. There are several games of darts lining the walls, various decks of dragon poker cards available, a large velvet lined pool table centered to one side of the lounge, a mat area surrounded by ropes, and an area that keeps track of all the runner races around the world via radio signal, giving constant updates on the status of the runners. Lastly, there's a bar here, small and built with brick as well. There's usually a bartender on duty willing to mix drinks during the evening hours.

Shenanigan's tends to run fairly quiet during the afternoon, leaving plenty of seats available for those who seek a more casual place to unwind than the main cavern. As the hour draws closer to the evening, weyrfolk trickle in. Among them is a group of guards, loosening jackets and unbuttoning collars as they collectively move toward the bar in various gaits. Mharen orders the same as the fellow next to her, sending the bartender to create two Proddy Greens. Entering into discussion with her colleague in a low voice, she ends up borrowing someone's napkin to draw rough lines and arrows in a scribbled diagram, punctuating her less than stellar artwork with a pointed frown to tell him just what she thought of that last formation.

It isn't often that Idralia spends time in the Lounge, preferring to relax in quieter surroundings in her off-duty hours. But this afternoon it is actually duty that brings her here, for the crafter is inspecting the wiring and fixtures to ensure none have become damaged and no wiring is exposed. Having been at this for some time, it seem appropriate to take a break as the guards trail in, and so Idralia makes her way to the bar to claim a seat near where Mharen is discussing training. "Just juice, please," Idralia says to the bartender when he comes by, watching the guards curiously as she waits for the drink to arrive.

Afternoons mean work is done, at least for the hunter. Deitra is making her way in to Shenanigan's and over towards the bar where the guards are, a dink is ordered and the young woman takes a seat. Attention settles on Mharen and the others, in which she inclines her head, whether or not she'll be seen. And then, to Idralia as she orders her juice. "Hey Idra." Her elbow comes to rest upon the bar, grinning widely. "How're you doin'? Are you working again? D'you ever take a break?"

Relief fills the face of the younger guard as their drinks arrive; he's free to hand Mharen her Proddy Green and turn slightly to try to engage Idralia in conversation with a crooked grin and a pleasant hello. Pale hand closing around her drink, the brunette's fingers tap idly against the glass while her gaze returns to her poorly-drawn diagram, lips parting to mouth silently as she crosses out a few circles. Leaning back to study her modifications, Mharen crumples the napkin in a swift, terse movement, leaving it on the counter in favor of sipping her alcohol and tilting her head slightly to study her associate's interaction with the techcrafter, eyes curious. And thanks to Deitra, to whom she spares a brief glance, there's a name to go with the new face.

"I'm not always working, but it seems that way sometimes," Idralia replies with a smile for the hunter. "Good to see you again, Deitra. I'm doing well. How are you?" The greeting from the younger guard is returned, and perhaps a few other pleasantries, but then Idra's juice is delivered and she turns her attention to it. "Thank you," she says to the barkeep as she sips her juice, eyeing the lights over the bar itself. "Do those look flickery to you?" she asks Deitra, nodding toward the light questioningly.

Her own drink arrives and Deitra's taking the glass and peeking over at Mharen, watching the guard with mild interest before it trails back towards Idralia as the tech crafter speaks to her. "I don't think I've seen you not workin'. You were at the table with paperwork, in the garden fixin' things and in here fixin' more things." The glass is brought to her lips and she takes a drink before lowering it. "Good ta see you, though. 'm good. Good mornin'." She again glances towards Mharen and then finally speaks up, "whatcha lookin' at?" A grin is offered towards the guard before looking up at the lights with a wrinkle of her nose. "Ain't they always flickerin'?"

Mharen's chin lifts to better regard the lights in question before she leans slightly over her colleague to inquire at about the same time as Deitra, "Shouldn't they be?" Flickering, that is. "We have a few in the guards' barracks that could use replacement, if you happen to be working over that way in the next sevenday. Not my place to put in a work order, but consider it an advance notice, or something." The guard next to her offers an apologetic look for her brusqueness as she retreats back around him to her personal space.

Idralia chuckles softly at Deitra's observations, pointing out, "I wasn't doing work. Those papers were for fun. I like to research new things." She sighs then, as both Deitra and the guard confirm the flickering. "They /shouldn't/ be flickering. It means either the wiring or the filaments are bad, which means they need to be examined and replaced," she says sourly, glaring at the offending blubs with distinct irritation. Mharen's observation about the lights in the guard barracks pulls another sigh from the techie. "Thanks. I'll move them up on the inspection rotation."

Deitra chuckles softly at Mharen's question, nodding her agreement that is before lifting her drink again. The glass is left against her lips for a moment before taking another drink. Grey eyes watch the guard as she again retreats and then shrugging her shoulders. Another drink is taken and then she settles the glass back down upon the bar. "Why're you researching durin' lunch of all times? Shells, that's a time ta enjoy not doing nothing." A soft chuckle, a smile playing upon her lips before she takes her glass once more. "Seems like you got a lot ta do."

"You have the captain's thanks, I'm sure, " Mharen replies to Idralia, pushing her glass away with a dismissive movement as she hunts in her pocket for the proper payment. There's a slightly amused glance for Deitra as she adds wryly, "Research can be perfectly enjoyable. There's nothing wrong with reading manuals and records of former regiments over a good meal." Truly riveting material, to be sure. Exchanging marks with the barkeep, she replaces what's left into her jacket before directing a general motion of her hand toward the other guards in farewell. "You've reminded me that I owe one back to the archives. Excuse me." Exit Mharen, stage right, without so much as a 'by your leave.'

2690.9.25 - Meeting Kairhys

2011-09-27T16:20:45Z

You walk down to the lake.

Fort Weyr - Lake Shore
This lake shares many features common to mountain lakes -- a brilliant blue jewel nestled amongst the rocks. The waters are crystal clear, and the north shore slopes gently before abruptly falling away into the depths. This lake does have one significant differentiating feature, however. The south shore of the lake is a tumbled mass of rubble, rock and earth of an ancient rockslide smoothed only by the elements in the intervening years. This rubble, as well as the rather sheer east and west faces, makes for the north shore to be the only one easily accessible.
The seasons shift around the lake in a timeless flow. Waters grow choppy as autumn blends the summer calm with winters coming fury. The shoreline soaks in the heat of the day and provides a pleasant strolling area in the evening hours as long as the weather remains tempered, releasing the heat of the day to the cool of the night. In the early morning a layer of frost can sometimes be found dappled over the shoreline though the waters remain liquid.

It's not long past the dinner hour; the skies purple into dusk, steadily making moons and stars that much more visible. Seated near the lake's shore, Mharen's legs are crossed, lanky, sweater-wrapped frame awkwardly supported by her arms pressing to the ground, head tilted vaguely upward. Surely she had an actual purpose in being here, but with her weaponry unbuckled and placed just to the side, and her expression, distant, she's undoubtedly lost it to some other train of thought.

Dinner might of passed, but it hasn't stopped Kairhys from snagging himself a meatroll from the serving table before heading out towards the lake. He nibbles away on it as he wanrders, brown eyes darting here and there without any real sense of purpose. His expression is one of passing interest alone, pausing now and then to admire the branch of a tree or merely the beauty of the night sky. He's got on a pair of thick mahogany colored leather pants, several layers beneath a long tweed coat in muted browns that's securely buttoned and belted, a crimson woolen scarf tied and tucked around his neck, and soft fur lined skin gloves over his hands. Feet are dressed in a pair of weather-proof leather boots in black. It's likely the weaponry on the ground that draws his attention first and foremost Mharen's way, noticing the woman herself in turn. Brows lift, breath visible as he exhales, the cold weather having kissed his cheeks and the tip of his nose a rosy color. He hasn't exactly been stealthy upon his approach to the lake, but there is an air of caution now. "You all right over there?" he asks of her, helping himself to another bite of his meatroll and chewing thoughtfully.

The late night hour normally means that many are retreating to bed, there's no work to be done at such late hour especially when one is to be setting out in the morning. Deitra wanders, however, without reason or cause with her hands tucked into her pockets and grey eyes staring at the ground as she makes her way to the lakeshore. Occasionally a rock comes into her view and the worn boots kick it forward, continuing until it veers off course and out of her range. Eventually, her gaze lifts and the figures upon the beach are spotted. Her head tilts in consideration and her hands are shoved deeper into her pockets, making the paints strain against the belt but not quite pulling them free of her hips. And slowly, she approaches peering at Kairhys then to Mharen. "Hey Mharen. Doin' okay? How'd that flower thing go?" At least she remembers the face to the name she so briefly met. Grey eyes flicker back towards Kairhys and she smiles easily at the man. "Hey. Don't think we've met. 'm Deitra."

Mharen visibly starts, rising on her knees to reflexively reach for her belt before she registers the source of the new voice. Blinking, she slowly settles back onto the ground, stretching her legs out before her. "Never better, " she informs Kairhys crisply, slanting a quick look over him. "Haven't you ever heard of someone getting lost in thought?" While refastening her weapon to her waist, she affords Deitra a tiny nod. "Lady's man got the flower and took it to his lady fair, " she relates dryly. "Beyond that, I haven't a clue and don't care to know."

Kairhys is very tall, so being mistaken for a man is likely something the boy is used to at this point. He may of corrected Deitra if she had addressed him aloud as much, or he could very well have just run with it. Though up close his youth is fairly evident, putting him around fifteen or sixteen turns of age. "Kairhys." he returns for the introduction, fixing his gaze to the woman on the ground when her name was mentioned as if binding the two together in his own mind. "Yeah, I've heard that before. Just never seen someone armed drift off like that. Seems better to keep your mind from wandering when you have something sharp laying around." he muses, offering Mharen a grin before popping the last bite of his snack past his lips and chewing away.

Deitra snorts softly in amusement, "I see. I wouldn't want ta know beyond that, either. What they do is their own business." The hunter chuckles idly and tilts her gaze skywards, her gaze lingering there. "Would you been willin' ta work with me on some of my defense moves later? Gotta friend I want ta help out, but need a bit of refreshin' on it if yer free ta at any time?" Grey eyes drop to look to the guard and the woman grins widely, "if not, figure I can wing it some. Got a guy willing ta be our dummy and get thrown 'round some." Mirthful laughter follows with just a bit of a wicked tinge, before she again quiets and shifts grey eyes towards Kairhys once more and she inclines her head. "Well met and all that." Another scanning look for the younger man and she smiles a little wider. "Where you from, Kairhys?"

"Quite sure of that, are you?" Mharen prompts, but gives the lad an approving look. "You'd be right." For Deitra, her look is longer, appraising. "Alright. I hope you're buying him a drink to make up for being roughed up a few times once you've refreshed your skills." After all, her tone implies, who would do such a thing for nothing in return? Her head tilts slightly in Kairhys' direction at the hunter's inquiry, but it's her only outward display of interest in the answer.

At Mharen's question, Kairhys holds up a finger while he chews and only after finishing and clearing his mouth does he respond. "Pretty much, yeah." There's even a short laugh for that, before his grin widens for the approval and confirmation to the powers of his common sense. He is polite enough to go quiet while the women talk about beating up some poor dude in the name of training. From the looks of it though, the weaver looks vaguely amused about the whole thing, even as he finds a boulder to drop himself onto nearby, seemingly unwilling to do so on the ground. It's probably the mirthful laughter of Deitra that brings Kai back into the fold, brows lifting as the question is asked. When she finishes, his smile turns less smirky into something far more genuine and friendly. "Fort Hold. Yourself?" he asks, dropping a hand behind him on the rock he's chosen to perch, leaning back on it. Apparently this is extended to both women, as brown eyes flick from one to the other.

"'Course I am. Told him he could get as drunk as he wants if he lets two girls beat up on him. I ain't /cruel/. Or, that cruel. Man's got his pride and all." Deitra winks at Mharen, laughing freely. "Thanks. Lookin' forward ta the help. Let me know when you're free? I'm usually good for the afternoons or later in the evening, depending on how long we decide ta be out hunting." Her hands come free of her pockets and lift above her head, stretching out before folding and residing there. Her upper-half turns in consideration of the weaver on a boulder, returning the friendly smile with one of her own. "Here. The Weyr. Born and raised like a proper weyrbrate. Y'know, being fostered off and the like." She winks once more, this time directed towards the weaver there. "Got any interestin' stories ta tell about the Hold?"

Mharen flicks a hand briefly in the direction of the Weyr proper. "I'm finishing up my round of being on the night rotation this sevenday, so you're in luck. I'm sure we'll find a suitable time." Reluctantly, she adds, "I grew up just outside of Fort Hold, if it makes a difference." No exciting stories here, apparently, for she, too, looks to Kairhys for those, half-expectantly. "If you were up at the Hold proper, I'm sure you'll have more engaging tales to offer."

Kairhys glances between the woman with some mild interested now in the discussion of training, though it could very well be in passing. Merely something to do other than stare at the starlight reflected on the lake. He nods to both reponses for his returned inquiry, though the full on amusement returns as Deitra asks after stories. "Ah, I'm sorry, I'm not blooded or anything like that -- sad to say. Anything that might of been even remotely worth mentioning happened so long ago it wouldn't even matter these days." he sighs, doing a good job of at least looking as if he was disappointed that he had no gossip or heroic tales to tell. Whether it was how he really felt, is difficult to say. "My father works at the stables as a groom, and my mother fixes shoes. Not really all that exciting I'm afraid. They're fairly down to earth people and don't believe in gossip, so I haven't even heard anything from them."

"Well, I'm just lucky, then. Maybe I should go bettin' on somethin' soon." Deitra laughs and straightens her spine once more, only to turn in the other direection before against straightening. "Fairly flexible, so whenever. Haven't made the rest of the plans for the training, so any time before then." Grey eyes close as she listens to Kairhys speak, remaining in silence until he finishes and the woman clicks her tongue just so. "Don't matter if it's relative or not, just something interestin'." Her arms drop and shoulders heave a slight shrug before she's turning to settle down upon the ground, legs crossed and hands resting upon her calves. "Mm. Gossip is just good for a laugh or two. Sometimes they're true, sometimes they ain't and either way they're good for a laugh. Sometimes I think 'bout starting some just ta see if people believe it."

Having noted Deitra's schedule and learned of Kairhys' parentage, the tall guard gets to her feet in a series of careful movements, pale gaze neutral. "Deitra, right? I'll be in touch." Mharen's chin jerks briefly toward Kairhys as she checks over her pockets; "Take a leaf out of his parents' book, or you could find yourself on the wrong end of a weapon or a fist. Gossip can hurt." Stuffing her hands back into the warmth of her sweater's sleeves, she doesn't offer the others any farewell, boots scuffing into the ground as she makes tracks for the bowl.

2690.9.21 - The Meaning of Flowers

2011-09-26T19:05:46Z

You go into the flower gardens.

Fort Weyr - Flower Gardens
This fairly small portion of garden has been dedicated to the art of flower-growing, with everything seeming to radiate outward from the small fountain that's been erected in the very center. Flowing outward, like the rays of Rukbat, are paved paths that are lined with various things -- from bulb-grown flowers to flowering shrubs. Any rhyme or reason is for the gardeners to discern; it is, to the most casual observer, a place where flowers appear to randomly erupt in vivid bursts of color through the year.
Carnation pinks, daisy whites, and rose reds typically dominate ... but, from time to time, seemingly exotic flares of daffodil yellow and iris blue and orchid purple may make a memorable appearance. Pansies and other such flowers also peek their heads out from time to time, if only to add unexpected glimpses of color where green and brown dominate. The air is thick with the perfumes of flowers as they bloom, the commingling of scents being potent but not overwhelmingly so.
Around the stone fountain in the middle are a few low benches, with everything appearing to have been made with an eye for the abstract. The fountain itself is a thing made of stone and overlaid with broken bits of tile and glass to make an eyecatching mosaic in a rainbow of hues; the benches are sturdy, made of well-treated wood that's been carved with stylized floral patterns and stained a rainbow of hues to reflect as much.

Midmorning in Fort's garden is apparently a quiet time; perhaps the majority of the gardening staff are at a late breakfast, or it's just a rather quiet day in general. Not deviating from the theme of 'quiet,' but definitely commanding a presence on one of the benches by the fountain is Hanild, wrapped in a shawl, hair pinned up to her head. She's got a sketchbook on one knee and is alternating between focusing intently on a climbing orchid and looking down to what her hand has been drawing without her eyes on it and correcting something, biting at the corner of her lip and occasionally crinkling her nose.

Certainly more quiet than less, X'dis at least isn't disrupting the peace and quiet of the gardens too badly as the brown rider makes his way into the flower garden from the herbs, pausing now and then to peer curiously at a plant, pushing the flowers out of the way to peer at the base, before straightening up and offering a little sigh and a mutter and moving on.

Miki isn't quiet at all, she's humming a children's song under her breathe, sometimes singing and sometimes whistling along as she makes her way through the gardens. There's a glance at the unfamiliar girl trying to sketch, curious as to the new face. There is once face she /does/ know however, and the green rider walk up to X'dis. "Hey you. Off-duty? And do you know her?" A thumb is jerked in the drawer's direction.

Mharen hardly seems to be the flower-loving sort; in fact, she's eyeing the perennial blossoms rather dubiously as she approaches the multicolored garden. Posture held stiffly, she cautiously roves from one row to the next, expression less than pleased. There's a quick glance spared for artsy Hanild before she abruptly heads in her direction, ignoring any others nearby. "Hate to bother you, " she begins in a brisk alto, "but I could use some assistance. I--need an opinion, " and a hand makes a sharp motion toward the flowers still in bloom, expectant.

"Hm?" Head up from her drawing almost immediately, Hanild is -- slightly wary, perhaps, but sociable enough as she is suddenly approached and spoken to. "Sure, of course. On the flowers?" Her head tilts a little bit to the side, and Hanild glances at where Mharen is gesturing thoughtfully, as if awaiting an epiphany.

A large yellow petal is idly rubbed between his fingers as X'dis ponders, and then Miki's there, asking the question, and he's lifting his chin, blinking a few times. "Sorry, was distracted..." He offers with a little clearing of his throat, before he's glancing n the direction she's indicating, shaking his head even as he offers the green rider an arm. "Ain't seen her before, sorry Mik.."

Miki looks over at the yellow flowers, tilting her head a bit and then raising a brow at X'dis. "You always seem to be distracted Xan. This time you're playing with flowers though, it certainly is a step up." A tiny grin forms on her face before she turns to glance back at the girl. Of which there are now two. "I haven't seen eitherof them before....hm, the garden's a popular spot today I guess."

"No, the air, " Mharen replies impatiently. "Of course, on the flowers. Look, there's a guy I work with who asked me to help him pick out a pretty one to give to some girl he's seeing tomorrow." Her mouth twists a little. "I really don't think I'm the best person to make that kind of selection, so--I'd like you to do it. I already told him I'd probably just as well choose a pretty weed as an actual blossom he'd want to give." Her foot taps for a minute before she remembers to add, "That is, you look like you'd be better at this sort of thing. I'd--appreciate it. The help, I mean."

"I could argue the air, if you were wondering about something like the pollen levels in the air, but then again I'd just as soon say that I had absolutely no idea," is Hanild's response, and she sets the sketchbook down, moving to stand. "Men. Always asking other people to do the work so they can take the credit -- I'm happy to." Onto the flowers: Hanild paces in front of the nearby brighter-colored ones, looking very serious on the whole manner, before remembering to ask, "Are these actually for picking? Because I've not been here long and I don't actually know. But I think this pink one here should do nicely for the task."

"You just catch me at awkward times.." X'dis tries to defend himself with a little, crooked smile, glancing at the flower petal in his hand and quickly dropping his hand away and then shoving it in his pocket. "Trying to think of what to get Blondie... And some old auntie said not flowers, cause flowers die, but a plant. But.. I don't know what." He makes a face, and then follows her gaze towards the pair of girls, tilting his head curiously. And then as Mharen gives an explanation of her problem, the brown rider's eyebrow arches, and he's giving Miki a nudge, grinning widely. "Hey, this might be what I need..." He murmurs under his breath.

Miki grins and shakes her head. "You're /always/ awkward as far as I can tell. Hmm...maybe you can get her a fruit plant? I don't know. All I know is that kids like flower jewelry." At the nudge, her attention is drawn back to the girls, listening to their conversation and soon a small giggle escapes the tiny woman. "Heh. Way to show a girl you like her, get the idea for her gift from someone else." There's a teasing tone to her voice, but the assistant seems quite keen on listening as well.

Mharen's arms cross. "I doubt they'll miss one flower, " the guard opines dismissively, peering over at the indicated pink blossom for a fraction of a second. "Let's hope she likes pink, " she decides with finality. If the mystery girl can't stand the hue, her suitor will clearly have to fix the oversight himself. "Unless you think there's something better. He said she's shy, if that makes a difference." A glance cuts back over her shoulder toward the nearby voices, but returns to Hanild and the flowers soon enough--the selection business is far more pressing.

Hanild processes this, but seems pretty solid in her decision at the end, with a firm nod. "Hence the pink, as opposed to red -- at first, I was thinking red, but red's awfully forward for a new relationship, and pink tends to be gently romantic without being pushy." Evidently, Mharen made a good choice in Hanild for her flower-picker! The two of them are standing and contemplating a pink flowering plant, and are being eavesdropped upon by a nearby Miki and X'dis. "Maybe one of the little blue ones, as well, for a miniature bouquet sort of thing. That shows effort. Unfortunately it's your effort and not his, but she won't know that, will she? I'm not sure if, in the end, that's doing her a disservice."

"Would you rather have the *right* thing picked out by someone else as a gift, or the wrong thing picked out by me?" X'dis teases Miki as she picks on him, tilting his head as he eyes the various flowers around the garden, eyes coming to rest one the various pink specimens that are currently in bloom. "The old lady said something about... bulbs or.. something." He thinks, shrugging and looking hopelessly at Miki as he continues to eavesdrop on the others discussing flowers, a smirk on his face.

"The wrong thing! Well at least in my opinon. Cause that means you put thought into it. That's how I think about the stuff the littles sometimes make for me. The work's hideous and it isn't done right, but they put in the effort for me, y'know? Hmmm, what about a pretty blue one? What's her favorite color?" Miki grins, crouching down to look at a few more flowers. "Bulbs? Those are....well I don't really know. When I think bulbs I think of onions. You should give her a bagful of onions." The suggestion seems to be a joke, especially considering the way Miki's degenerated into giggling. "Or grass. I let the littles raise grass all the time!"

One would think that Deitra would not be the sort of girl to visit flower gardens, but, here she is entering with her hands in her pocket and her bottom lip held between her teeth as she visibly chews upon that poor lip of hers. Her gaze scans the area, settles on Miki for a brief moment before the woman instantly changes her course to head over besides Mharen and Hanild by the flowers, inserting herself in there. "Colors mean different things? I thought they were just colors. I don't think some guys would like the pink flowers, just cause it seems feminine." Then, she's tilting a look over towards Miki and X'dis, to wave a quick greeting before attention shifts. "What's yellow mean? Or orange? Blue? Purple?"

"Right, " says Mharen briskly, giving the pink bloom a longer stare. "I'll tell him to collect this one for his interest." Finding the entire affair to be to her distaste, the tall woman twitches her shoulder in a careless shrug. "I suppose he'd be the one asking you all of these things if he could make the time for some effort, " she remarks dryly. The poor blue bouquet candidates aren't even spared a mention while she closes in on her objective. "Thanks for your help--?" And while an expectant brow lifts for Hanild's name, she sends Deitra a side-glance at her insertion. "Ask her, I know nothing about flower colors."

"Hanild," the flower-artist supplies her name politely and promptly, with an awkward flash of smile. "And he should have been. Tell him to stuff it next time he makes you do something, since odds are there will be someone able to help, not that *I* work here, but those who do should know -- something." Because if they don't, her expression says, they are failing at their purpose in life. To Deitra, she responds as if quoting an encyclopedia, though it's just as clearly cited straight from memory: "Friendship, happiness, good cheer. New beginnings, like a birth or a marriage. That's yellow. Blue is for peace, purple's about success and pride, and -- orange. Hm. I'm not entirely sure about orange, though I'd be willing to bet it has something to do with energy."

"Onions!?" X'dis says quite loudly, ruining the fact that he was "secretly" eavesdropping on the conversation, staring at Miki with his mouth agape, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. "Remind me of that later, when you're asking me for romantic gift ideas." He teases her, and then, there's a swear, and he shakes his head. "Shards, Mneo... Don't move..." And then he's patting Miki's shoulder. "Gotta go, Mneo's... umm, stuck." He offers, glancing at the trio of girls curiously once more as Hanild explains the flowers, and then he's off at a brisk pace.

"Course, onions." Miki grins at X'dis, the expression fades at his sudden panic, only to come back full force with a fit of giggles. "Ohhh. Go get him unstuck! Let Sohnyu and I know if you need help." There's further snickering before she's wandering over to the gaggle of girls now left. "Hey Deitra. And you two....new faces. What're your names?"

Huh. Deitra then looks to Hanild, expectant of her answer with grey eyes considering the other woman, head tilting just so. Shells. That's quite a lot of different meanings. So, red is love and pink is... New love? The young woman reconsiders the flowers with another look, at least until she's turning back to consider X'dis for his outburst. Brows lift and then she chuckles softly, sending an amused smile in his direction before redirecting her attention once more towards the flowers. "Hey Miki. How're you doin'?" She turns then to the greenrider with a smile of greeting, "yer lookin' cheerful."

"Hanild, " repeats the guard with a quick tip of her head. "Well, thanks. I'll just tell him to find you if his first date with this girl is successful." There's a bit of an eyeroll in there, no doubt; her expression briefly starts to glaze over as the other unloads her wealth of knowledge about the varied and subtle meanings behind flowers, but quickly snaps back to alertness as Miki approaches. There's no escaping without giving her name now, alas. "Mharen, " the owner of that name says at last, flatly. "Good afternoon." Three long strides later, she's off, presumably to relay the choice flower selection to her well-intentioned colleague.