Logs:Behind Door Number 3
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| RL Date: 26 August, 2007 |
| Who: Tavrie, N'thei |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 1, Month 4, Turn 13 (Interval 10) |
| Tavrie wanders into the cavern from the lower caverns. Tavrie has arrived. N'thei rests at a corner table by himself, the glowbasket on his table halfway lidded and the general feel of quiet and rest to pervade his immediate vicinity. The weyrling has his big feet hitched up on the corner of the table so the heel of his boot holds them in place, crossed at the ankles, and he's idly playing a solitary card game. His eyes go frequently across the cavern though, where a handful of pretty girls are arranging bouquets of early flowers for the tables. A shadow suddenly falls over him and the table, making what was dim now darker. Tavrie smirks down at the weyrling while he plays, noting the propped boots and the location of his gaze. "Comfortable? The view is nice from here, hmm?" she chides him with a mischevious look on her face and inquisitively arched brows. "Someone noted I might find you here, and look, here you are!" she says, sounding quite pleased about this. N'thei's slow to draw his attention away from the girls, them being pretty and him being male. When he does look up to Tavrie, he rewards himself with a slow smile and nod in the direction of the flower arrangers; "I should comment on how you've improved it, mm?" He very pointedly rakes the goldrider with a look before he makes the effort to sit up straight, his feet drawn off the table onto the floor. "Here I am. And what can I do for you, miss?" Tavrie laughs warmly, brown eyes lit with amusement. "Why thank you," she purrs at him, doing a little mock-curtsey. The woman lifts a finger and waggles it in a warning fashion as she speaks next. "No no, I think the question at hand is this: What can -I- do for -you-?" she queries with her usual Cheshire grin. The blond takes a step back, head tipping slightly as she waits for her question to sink and his interest to perhaps pique. "How would you like to be on your way out of the barracks, weyrling?" she asks, smile shifting from mischevious to more friendly now that she has revealed her purpose. "There are a few things I could think of that I'd like better." N'thei begins it in all seriousness, strokes his chin with his fingers and looks faraway thoughtful. Grin to grin though, he admits, "But they aren't fit for talk among mixed company. Have you come to be my liberator, miss?" It's hard to miss the hopefulness behind the words, even with his intentionally languid demeanor tonight. From afar, Talien checks - you gonna be here tomorrow night? I've got confirmation that it'll be happening then. :) Tavrie's smile shifts to a smirk again as she puts on a bold front to match his languid demeanor and she would succeed if it weren't for the dim pink that comes to her cheeks at the mere hint of a misplaced conversation. The modest woman places her hands on her hips and lifts a brow. "That would be ma'am to you," she gives him a hard time, jokingly reminding him of protocal. "And yes, I have indeed come to do just that. I've been getting to know these empty werys well and I knew I needed some larger ledges for just the likes of a dragon like yours -- so, I have several in mind to show you, if you'd like to meet me out in the bowl," she tells him. "It is hard to work with two dragons, so you'll have to be patient when we land on the ledges and let Nabrimeth clear out before landing," she notes. N'thei shows no sign of having seen the pinkened cheeks, except that his eyes brighten before he answers; "You hardly seem old enough to merit ma'am-ing. My mother always said she felt aged a decade when people called her ma'am." He's slow to stand, one who takes care not to hit his full height in a startling rush, and he collects his cards with equal precision. "I'll make every effort to check Wyaeth's proclivity for rushing into things, ma'am." He leaves a questioning edge to the form of address-- is she sure ma'am suits, truly? Tavrie smiles and rolls her shoulders in a care-free shrug. "I would just hate to have I'daur overhear and have a word with you over titles. I'm not the sort that takes pleasure in others getting punished," she notes. The woman quails slightly when he stands, shifting her weight to her back leg in such a way as to bring her away from him by at least a few feet. Who could blame her when she is more than a foot shorter than him and with no substantial build to make up for it? Tavrie lowers her gaze a moment, recollecting herself. "You needn't worry too much about checking him. Nabrimeth has quite a firm handle on things, not to mention that with her size as it is, most ledges just won't take him without her shoving off. I love her, but she is quite the monstrousity to bathe and fit in places," the woman says fondly, looking back up again. The petite woman tucks her hair behind her ears. "Shall we?" she asks, blinking at him a moment and then setting off with quick, short strides. "Very conscientious of you." N'thei puts away his cards, quick fingers buttoning up his breast pocket and then tucked away behind him as still-smiling eyes note the reaction to stature. "It seems Nabrimeth and I have a few things in common then, though perhaps not with quite the same scale on my end." Chuckling mildly, he nods ahead toward the bowl and falls in step behind the goldrider with a pleasant-sounding; "We shall." Tavrie laughs a touch nervously and happily leads the way, eyes focused ahead for the most part. "Yes, I suppose you do at that," she notes. She is quiet for a moment and then snickers softly. "Nabrimeth just gathered who you are from my memory of you thinking about breakfast eggs while on the Sands," she offers by way of explanation. They head into the bowl and the large gold is indeed waiting. Tavrie mounts quickly, her movements deft from frequency. "Meet us in the sky and then follow," she instructs him with a yell. Gnarled Roots Weyr(#11173RIJs) Oak and ash define the walls of this fair ledge, the knotting, ancient trees butting up against the rough-worked stone. They're pinned there, in fact, by ironwork and careful pruning, until now the wood and rock are impossibly intertwined. Once, the wall must have been verdant with leaf and vine, but time has stolen that luxury, the cold and the wind working together until, unattended, the trees have died. Now, like bleached bones, they lean against the grey granite behind him. Their gnarled roots have nibbled away the uneven steps that lead into the weyr proper, though the remainder of the ledge is in good condition, with a nice view of the bowl. The short, steep tunnel into the interior of the weyr is rough at the start from the efforts of those once-magnificent trees, but further in even they haven't been able to move the slick stone floor. The hearth is large but covered with soot, and the heavy wooden shelves on the wall are about to fall down. Only a few tatty hangings curtain off the storage alcove on one side of the room and the low-ceilinged sleeping room. Cracks along the walls leak in the wetter seasons, but the oddly round rooms are still in good condition, though they seem awkwardly placed in relation to each other. The small amount of furniture consists of heavy wood-and-iron pieces too heavy to move out. "That was all in good fun." N'thei himself laughs a little at the recollection, pre-Wyaeth, and his smile deepens when he meets the bronze out in the bowl. The flying part is evidently easy for them, the big fellow swings up and settles between two neckridges and the young bronze sweeps up happily. He follows Nabrimeth with a pleasant warble to the queen, quite the gentleman with the way he stays back to give her plenty of room. Nabrimeth, amused with Wyaeth's politeness trills sweetly over her shoulder at him, winging lazily through the air before dropping onto a ledge. Tavrie hurries down and moves away from the queen who then leaps skyward again to clear the ledge for the weyrling pair. Tavrie moves on inside, ready to let him have a look around. Wyaeth's impatience is visible, but he still stays off the ledge until it's clear. Flying, he has down; landings, he's not so great at. The pair land hard on the ledge, skate forward as his talons scrabble for purchase, and land with a bump; heedless, N'thei swings down promptly and follows Tavrie inside. "Trees?" Observant fellow that he is. Tavrie lifts a hand and turns away, hiding her need to giggle at the bumpy landing. She clears her throat and grins. "Yes, trees," she observes. "It is for the nature lover, which I'm not really sure if you are, but I thought I'd offer it anyway," she states cheerfully, fear seeming to be gone and mischevious nature back again. "The nature lover." N'thei sounds doubtful himself, walks in to the weyr, and he runs his knuckles across the wall. He finds a knot in the roots and raps on it a few times, looking over toward Tavrie with his eyebrow raised and his smile rather quirky now. "Have you got something a little less... outdoorsy? Maybe less water?" He finds a leaky spot and scrapes his index finger along it, a drop of water flicked off his fingernail toward the goldrider afterward. Tavrie grins at him in that feline manner which likely means she has plenty of weyrs, but which ones she chooses to show him is anyone's guess. "Hrm, I do think so, let's try another, shall we?" she toys with him. Moving to the ledge, she looks at Wyaeth. "You're out first, then follow us again," she notes, backing up and waiting for him to take off so that Nabrimeth can return and she can launch as well. N'thei probably takes the smile in an /entirely/ different way than it was intended, at least that's what one might judge from the raise of his eyebrows and the renewed brightness of those gray eyes. He sobers up in all haste though, pausing only to tap the walls one more time briefly, then he's out to the ledge and vaulting back up to Wyaeth's neckridges. They glide away and fly lazy circles, awaiting Nabrimeth. Nabrimeth returns for Tavrie who is standing there shaking her head and muttering something, then the pair take off and wing over to another ledge a short way around the caldera wall. Landing, the gold once again lets her rider off before hurrying to clear out for Wyaeth. Tavrie moves away and looks around, grinning at the weyr. Teeny Tiny Square Weyr(#11173RIJs) The roomy ledge at the fore of this weyr could hold a pair of bronze dragons easily. It even boasts a couple of sunny little hollows perfect for them. The left side of the ledge has almost constant sunlight, while the right side, thanks to an outcropping of bowl wall, is shadier and cooler by result. The room inside is stark contrast to all this space out on the ledge. The doorway that leads inward opens into a room that's only about ten feet by ten feet. The tiny square room boasts a surprising amount of furniture, though. To the immediate right of the door, the rest of that wall is devoted to a hide-covered desk, in front of which is a wobbly chair. On the back wall, is a bed, its bottom raised about four feet off the ground to make room for a couple of big boxes slap full of more old hides. Between the high bed and the desk is a clothes press; the wall to the left of the doorway bears a couple of hooks for coats or straps as well as a two-foot-deep closet with a few more boxes of odds and ends the previous owner has left behind. The closet, which runs about half the room's length, is sectioned off behind a grayish sheet. The only thing that keeps the tiny room from seeming more claustrophobic is the window set into the space above the desk. When its shutters are opened, it shows a nice view of that broad ledge. Wyaeth obviously, obviously thinks they're home. He lands with his standard graceless thump, lets N'thei hop down off one side, and immediately swaggers over to take stock of one of the big hollows. Impressed, shown in a gruff-sounding sniff of approval, the bronze settles down for the long haul. And N'thei, like it or not, steps into the tiny inner room with his lips turned into a wordless O. With all the makings of a bull in a china shop, the big guy touches nothing and looks back at Tavrie bemusedly; "It's a little cramped, but I don't know that I've got a choice. You specifically pick ones like this to torment people, I imagine?" Tavrie smiles ever so sweetly at him. "If I showed you the best ones first, even they wouldn't look so good," she offers and then tacks on, "and I'd get to enjoy much less time in your company." The woman smirks and then eyes the bronze. "Come on handsome, if he isn't happy," Tavrie thumbs over her shoulder at N'thei, "you won't be for long either." Tavrie smiles convincingly at the bronze, urging him to get back up. "Okay, no more lame weyrs. I know a few that really are rather neat," she says, looking mock-shamed and winking at N'thei. "Well, if you're just looking to spend time with me..." N'thei trails off, his smile big and his eyes all bright on Tavrie. Getting Wyaeth to relinquish his claim to this ledge is too hard to make much of flirting right now, shown while the bronze snorts gustily in the goldrider's direction. The argument is entirely silent, but it shows on the weyrling's face; he wins in the end, but Wyaeth stalks to the edge of the ledge like he's fit to be tied. "Look what you've caused." The chide never lands with the forgiving smile N'thei employs when he climbs up once more and sends Wyaeth off to, once again, await Nabrimeth. Tavrie smirks to herself and lifts her chin with mock arrogance at his first comment. She'd look down her nose at him, except, well, he's much too tall for that. "Alright, I'll stop teasing you both. I know of the best ledge and it has a nice weyr to boot. I just wanted it to be fully appreciated," she states resolutely. When they are safely off the ledge, Nabrimeth returns and soon the golden pair are leading them around the wall to a wide ledge that overlooks the lake. Sunset Across the Lake Weyr(#11173RIJs) Broad and flat, this large ledge could likely hold a bronze dragon and a visitor comfortably, if with little room to spare. Slanting slightly downward so that any rain may spill over the unsheltered outcropping, the bumpy ledge has smooth grooves that travel like wagon wheel tracks from where the weyr entrance begins to the very edge, paths worn smooth by turns of wind and running water. Dug into the rock next to the opening of the sheltered sanctuary and where the ledge begins to dwindle before disappearing into the wall entirely, a small cavern has been dug so that someone could carefully climb in and sit comfortably for a while. The tattered remains of a cushion even remain there, torn and rotting due to weather. The view from the ledge reveals just why a cozy hidey-hole might be valuable, with its location almost directly behind the lake, this weyr's true treasure lies in its perfect sunset watching spot. Stepping inside, the weyr has been designed in two parts that curve in something like a half circle. The first part of the large room lays straight back from the ledge and holds a large and well-worn dragon couch. From here, the weyr wraps around, the inner depths shielded by the curving wall and added protection added in thick swathes of fabric that hang just beyond the dragon's couch to narrow the passage down to a more human size entrance that a dragon could still peer through. The inner workings of the weyr are unremarkable and currently poorly lit. The room has been dug a little more square here, allowing one to push furniture back against the walls more easily. In fact, a rickety desk remains on the left wall and a large bed covered in thick mats and furs is on the opposite wall. Between those walls on what might be called the back wall, a hearth invites someone to start a cozy fire. Wyaeth continues to sulk, barely stops long enough to let N'thei hop down before he's off to pretend the view isn't that great. N'thei doesn't play at hiding his impressed reaction, leaving a long, low whistle to announce it to Tavrie. "You could have saved a lot of trouble and just started with this one." He ducks his head to the inner weyr enough to assure that it's not a little box of a room and there are no trees, and then he looks back toward the goldrider with a renewed smile. "I could be cozy here." Tavrie smiles, looking about the sparcely furnished weyr and nodding. "It hasn't got a lot in it, but it seems to be a good place start, if you ask me," she tells him. "The bed is large and shouldn't need much fussing with, the desk, well...you might want to replace that, and anything else you will need can be taken from the stores," the goldrider continues, walking over to smooth the furs and then looking around and nodding approval. "If you like it, it is yours," she offers. Tavrie walks back to the ledge and then gives and 'ooh' of appreciation. "The sun is setting, come see this!" she calls out to him. Eyeing the nook on the ledge, Tavrie ever so carefully walks out on the slender part and crawls up into it. "This is neat," she approves, almost looking as if she would like it hersel.f "I'll have to hear about it for a while." Wyaeth snorts right on cue. "But it's mine then." It's only a few long strides from the inner weyr to the ledge, just in time to get a nice rosy view of the sunset. Hands folded behind his back, he stays just behind and to one side of Tavrie, in such a way as to minimize the whole height issue; if there was a hole, he'd stand in it. "Don't get any ideas, miss. I've staked a claim." And by behind and to the side, that really means kind of off to one side of the nook by the wall. Yessir, that's what he did. |
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