Logs:Of Security Blankets
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| RL Date: 11 September, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'hin, Satiet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| Where: Central Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 1, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
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| You stroll into the storerooms. Central Storerooms(#17755RJM) Though certain of the Weyr's supplies are stored at the places where they are used, most are kept here, in the central storage complex. A series of caverns grouped around a central corridor, the complex is cut on the grand scale necessary to hold all the items a full and active Weyr needs. You're currently in the main corridor, wide and tall enough to admit a laden wagon. The walls are lined with heavy wooden doors, their wide spacing evidence of the size of the rooms behind them. Each of the doors features a posted inventory and map of its room's contents, and there are small piles of returned items beside several, waiting until someone has the time to reshelve them properly. There is a set of hardwood shelves available on a space of wall between two of the doors where people can place items when they are not sure which storeroom they belong in. Scanning the door signs, you note cold stores, dry food stores, rooms for textiles and furnishings, the records room, and the supply closet. To the south, the corridor opens out to the lower caverns. Satiet is here with you. (Places code and +views (see '+view information'!) are implemented here.) Contents: Satiet Obvious exits: Lower Caverns The door to the records room is ajar, just enough to allow occupants within the large cavern to spy without should they please. Rather than the constant light of glows, a candle is lit within the otherwise dark room, playing shadows against the walls of the slight silhouette within, head bent every so often in work and then standing, figure lithe as it moves from shelf to shelf, seeking. The occupant of the records room might get the feeling of a presence, rather than actual knowledge; that sense that someone's nearby watching, even if you can't see them. A glance upwards would reveal R'hin leaning in the doorway, watching the goldrider through the partially open door. He's dressed in something that's far from his usual attire; long green tunic is embroidered, a stole pinned to one shoulder, and slippers - easily recognizable as one of the Dijilia's unique outfits. When she's working, truly working, it's difficult to command Satiet's attention with anything more than the overt. Simple presence, despite any awareness she might have of someone at the door, does little to draw her concentration away from the hides she reads and the slight purse of her lips and glitter that alights her eyes as her readings delight her. Instead of returning to her seat, her hip finds the edge of a shelf, her shoulders some of the bound hides that line it, and the tilt of her head allows the fire's light to gloss her raven hair. It's only when a low voice, uttered coolly, breaks the silence that the fact that R'hin's presence was noted becomes obvious. "You block my view with your- finery." Her gaze does not lift from the bound hide she reads from. A low chuckle is R'hin's immediate response to the accusation, not one he can deny. He takes the words, however, as invitation, and slides through the opening into the room, nudging the door almost closed. "If you wished to sit and watch the mediocre pass by, lady of the spires, you would have set up shop in the inner caverns. Or," a beat, as he considers, "Is it that you watch for someone in particular?" He moves further into the room, pale gaze sweeping over the hide that so engages the woman's attention. Satiet, quiet, concludes the chapter at least, though there's continued awareness as to R'hin's nearer presence in the way a twitch touches her lip corner. A page turns, and then another, her eyes barely skimming the words neatly written on the pages until at least, the book is shut and held in one hand that hangs loosely by her side. Her slight frame doesn't unwind from the shelf, but now the sharp chin lifts to espy R'hin out in the full glory of his new clothing. "Since you seem to believe you know what I do here, perhaps you can also enlighten me as to who I wait for-," she pauses and then allows sarcasm to climb up along her lips, "Perhaps it is you I watch for." R'hin doesn't stop there, moving around until he's behind Satiet, half leaning over her in a blatant attempt to impinge on her personal space. Part of that stole on his shoulder brushes against her back as he does so. "Somehow," his own voice has a dry sarcasm that echoes hers as he straightens, "I doubt you'd expect -me- to be lingering around the records room." A pretty tableau they might make, for all that Satiet stills tensely with the invasion of her privacy and space, her dark hair heavy along one shoulder as her head tilts, and the pale glitter of her blue eyes frozen for that split second before movement and speech return. Her eyes complete the path that slides back over her shoulder to spare R'hin a sidelong look, and her body moves forward, leaning at the torso and then straightening once she's a step away to turn and place the book back into its slot. "Then I suppose I was not watchful of you. How regretful." With absolutely no regret in her voice, the diminutive face lifts to spare the bronzerider a look of pure sass. "And yet, you are here. In the records room." "Only because you are here, Satiet of High Reaches, and how could I ignore your beguiling presence when it cries out for attention?" R'hin's voice is low, the suave words without a hint of facetiousness - at least, none that can be detected. A beat or two, then, "I thought perhaps, since I saw you here, I might invite you on a trip to Benden. I've an urge to raid the winecraft hall and secure some bottles of vintage Benden white." Pale eyes follow her as she moves, one of his hands reaching up into casual lean against one of the shelves. "Cries. I shall have to school my presence. Teach it to not cry so beguilingly to ensnare dubious attentions of bronzeriders who fit a stereotype only too well." Satiet's fingers dance along the thick bindings of the books, her gaze divided not so equally between them and the more riveting figure R'hin makes. "Passing regards and a passing invitation. White - so easily have you discerned my tastes where others seem to find difficulties." A slower smile forms, thoughtful, with care behind the extent to which her mouth spreads wide. "It has been some time since I have been that far out of the Weyr." A hint of anger, well schooled, though the woman knows him well enough to see the edge of it in pale eyes. "If I were the stereotype, lady of the spires, I'd be busy pursuing Josilina. She is, after all, our Weyrwoman." A beat or two, eyes flickering over Satiet's features in a very obvious way. "It behooves me to socialize our goldrider. And... the wise man, too." A curl of lips is evidenced as he bestows that title without a trace of facetiousness. Leiventh> Maxeoth senses that Leiventh's crimson mindtones are present all of a sudden, not deliberate intrusion, but perhaps intrusion all the same. « Mine wishes to travel to Benden Hold. He is... busy, convincing Teonath's to come, also. Would you like to travel with us? » Leiventh senses that Maxeoth considers the proposition shortly before a lazy, « I will travel. » Is all that's returned. All too aware of his anger, a hand steals upward to smooth his cheek and then touch against the corner of his eyes with deftly light fingers -- smoothing out the lines that might be there. "She is very much weyrmated. - Happily so." The latter comment is tacked on, much like an after thought, and punctuated with the dryest of smiles that turns introspective. "Very well." Decision made, Satiet nods once, dropping her hand to press at R'hin's shoulder and steps closer, too close for personal space sake, "I have no work left here to do, if you've the time now, perhaps the Benden vineyards would be receptive to our visit." Pale eyes narrow marginally, R'hin shifting his head deliberately to pull him free of Satiet's touch, the movement sharp. "Weyrmating," he remarks dryly, "Seems to be less permanent many would like to believe." His hand against the shelf pushes away as he turns, deliberately putting his back to the woman. "I've the time," he says, shortly. "M'wen awaits us." He strides past to the door, pulling it open, eyes drifting back to Satiet as if waiting for her to proceed him, the picture of a gentleman. When her touch fails to meet, a little lip quirk disturbs the beatific regard R'hin's garnered, and instead of dropping to his shoulders completely, her arm falls, casual. "Your erstwhile companion," notes she lightly, though when he pauses, she too waits a beat before taking that first step forward and out of the records room. Someone else can mind the candle she lit. Satiet meanders into the lower caverns. Satiet has left. You stroll into the lower caverns. You wander through the archway, out to the bowl. Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#880RJs) Standing on the western side of the bowl, the high crownlike spires of the Seven Spindles on the north wall tower magestically above the roughly ovoid bowl floor. Near you, a large boulder stands, placed almost exactly in the center of the bowl. This side of the bowl is busy with the constant flow of residents and visitors around the entrance to the living cavern to the southwest and the lower caverns to the west. To the north, the large opening on the upper wall leading into the hatching grounds catches your eye. Directly below it, the ground entrance to the same area seems almost tiny. Northwest, the weyrs belonging to the junior queens of High Reaches are accessible from a short set of stairs and a path of carefully laid black marble leads from them to the entrance to the living cavern. To the south, a few ground weyrs remain unoccupied, in case any visiting or injured dragons need them. The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior winks as a waxing crescent while Timor winks as a waning crescent. It is completely still, no winds blow and the winter air is freezing against you. Views: Junior Queen Weyrs Contents: Teonath(#223JOQaep) Satiet Leiventh Ulfianth(#18Jae$) Obvious exits: LIving Cavern Lower Caverns Hatching Grounds Ground Level Guest Weyrs Eastern Bowl Floor There's a hint of anger in the way R'hin strides out of the lower caverns behind Satiet, though he holds his tongue, pale eyes fixed on the weyrwoman. Leiventh is settled in the bowl, a crack of eyes betraying his awareness of his rider's arrival. From one of the ground ledges, Teonath lifts and then drops to the bowl, the flight a mere glide that allows her to exercise her wings briefly. Satiet's exit just steps before R'hin are of an easy stride, her arms swinging loosely and then lifting up to greet her dragon's arrival with a caress to one of the large forelimbs. "And M'wen?" The name is said with quizzical nonchalance, as if she doesn't recognize the bronzerider's anger. "He comes," R'hin returns, gaze flickering towards Teonath as the gold arrives, close scrutiny given the dragon. He steps towards Leiventh, his hand trailing against the bronze's side in much the same way Satiet greets her lifemate. "Are you in such a hurry, lady of the spires, to drown your sorrows?" "I am in a hurry, bronzerider," where the title could easily be replaced with a more sarcastic 'm'lord', "To make sure we arrive at the Hall in due time, when the residents and masters within aren't enjoying slumber only to be disturbed by the arrival of three dragons not of Igen's wings." Satiet looks to Teonath's straps, checking the tightness of each methodically before deigning to pass a glance R'hin's way. "Do you not wish to get your vintages tonight, R'hin?" R'hin's head tips briefly as he bestows his scrutiny on the gold's rider as well, before his lips curve. "I do. I have a debt to pay, after all. Let us get in the air; Maxeoth's will join us." With a gesture towards Leiventh, he turns to climb aboard the bronze, glancing towards Satiet, allowing her to take the lead. You hop up onto Leiventh's back, using his foreleg as a step. Leiventh> Maxeoth senses that Leiventh's presence is nearby, crimson tones quiet. « We will meet you in the air. » » Satiet climbs up onto Teonath's back, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching closely. » "To the air then," Satiet murmurs, pleased, before she too is atop her dragon, and in a flutter of brilliant wings, the young queen takes to flight. Five wide beats above the sky and the cold gust of between vanishes her into its depths. » In the sky directly above, Teonath launches into the sky from the ground below. » In the sky directly above, Teonath climbs higher in the bowl sky. You leap into the sky. You wing upward in the sky. Sky High in the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr As you soar high above the bowl, you find yourself at a most unique point in the sky; here, near the lip of the bowl, the southeast is fully visible - the open sky stretches to the Western Mountain Range. Behind you, though, to the northwest, you can catch only occassional glimpses of the landscape through the spaces between the Seven Spindles. Through the first and second spires, you can see out to the mountains surrounding the weyr. If you know just where to look, you can also glimpse part of the winding road leading to the Weyr. Ledges are hewn into the rock face in all directions, each with a dragon's weyr behind it. The winds here are usually calm, with the protection of the Weyr's walls to keep the worst gusts at bay. Still, flying can be a little difficult as an errant thermal sometimes crosses the bowl. Views: Weyrs Contents: Teonath(#223JOQae) Obvious exits: Lower Western Sky Lower Eastern Sky Star Stones Up » Teonath disappears into Between. » Below you, to the east, Maxeoth launches into the sky from the ground below. » Leiventh disappears into Between. Between You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats... Black... Blacker... Blackest! You suddenly emerge... Sky Over Benden Hold and the WineCraft Hall(#902RLe) High above the ground, you have a wonderful view of the cliff housing the WineCraft Hall and Benden Hold, and the surrounding lands. The air is sweet and fresh. The river looks like a thin blue ribbon discarded by a child. Frosty winds buffet you and it's a struggle to hover here. The scene below is rendered almost featureless by its covering of snow, but you can make out a few stone structures and paths worn in the snow. The scene below seems empty of life, but the faint noises of voices and laughter, and the lights shining from windows tell a different story. Just below you is the main courtyard of the Hold, flanked by the mountainside on its north and west sides. Contents: Teonath(#223JOQae) Obvious exits: Sky above Igen Weyr CourtYard FireHeights Benden Road » Leiventh emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! » Maxeoth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! You spiral down to land in the courtyard. You climb down Leiventh's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds. Courtyard, Benden Hold(#555RJM) To the north, you see the towering cliff face that houses Benden Hold. A stone wing has been built off of the cliff to the west, and here you will find the WineCraft Hall. The shadowy bulk of the watch-wher can be made out high above on the Fireheights. Tall banks of snow have drifted up against the walls, but paths to all the entrances are kept swept clean of snow. The sentry passes by frequently on patrol, and you occasionally hear faint sounds from within - the clink of glassware or muffled conversation. The ramp to your south leads out of the courtyard. The doors to the Great Hall and guards' barracks lead into the Hold, and the doors to working caverns and the pub open into the WineCraft Hall areas. [+view is used here.] Type 'map' for a map of the hold. Type '+lhelp' for more information about Benden Hold Contents: Satiet Leiventh Teonath(#223JOQaep) Obvious exits: Ramp FireHeights STables Guards' Barracks Winecraft Working Caverns Tasting Hall Great Hall High above, Maxeoth spirals down to land in the courtyard. Maxeoth spirals down to a landing from high above. Maxeoth has arrived. M'wen vaults down Maxeoth's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles softly. M'wen has arrived. R'hin slips down from Leiventh's side, adjusting his unusual clothes as he touches the ground. Pale eyes focus on Maxeoth, watching the brown descend. A sharp salute is offered his rider, the bronzerider giving a nod of head in greeting, and a faint curl of lips. Teonath's descent is swift, the sunset that falls across the western horizon touching her gilt wings to emphasize the wheat interspersed with rose. When she lands, Satiet descends easily, adjusting her skirts with an absent hand that smooths down the panels of her dress, and then turns to also watch Maxeoth's landing. From the corner of her mouth, a wry comment is dropped for R'hin's benefit. "I dare say," she mocks, "I don't believe I see you leave the Weyr without your security blanket." M'wen slides down Maxeoth's side, a firm slap against the side of named dragon a brief thanks. Seeing R'hin's salute, he returns one, though with the added nod at the same time, it ends up looking quite odd. Stuffing his riding gear into a pouch at Maxeoth's side, he walks towards Satiet and R'hin. "That's true," R'hin concedes, of Satiet's accusation, complete with a tip of head in the goldrider's direction, "But it's more for the fact that I fear getting lynched, and the wise man's good judgement prevents me causing an... incident." A hand lifts, palm out, and gestures towards M'wen, the praise easily falling from his lips despite the man's very presence. If there's an edge of that earlier anger, he keeps it well heeled in public. Leiventh settles himself down, eyes half lidding, statuesque as always and largely uninterested in the differing surroundings. "Brownrider," the greeting drops courteously from the aloof weyrwoman's lips, as she foregoes the more traditional salute in favor of a gracious drop of her chin. "Your presence, as always, is welcome if it keeps R'hin from near certain death at the hands of his own tongue." Satiet turns a gaze about the dwindling business of the courtyard and turns her eyes towards the winecraft's caverns and the wide double doors where sounds of merriment and more importantly, the intoxicating scent of wine can be discerned as coming from. "Shall we?" One arm lifts, first to M'wen, accompanied with a charming smile, the second to R'hin, with a slightly less charming, more sly touched look. A small smile is visible at the corners of M'wen's mouth as he hears R'hin's comment, an almost imperceptible nod given to the lynching remark. On reaching the pair, he returns with "Goldrider," an arm raising to salute, but falling back on an afterthought. Turning his gaze in the direction Satiet was looking, he seems to find nothing of interest and returns his attentions to those of a closer distance. Taking the proffered arm, he returns the smile though it doesn't have quite the same charm on his face, he replies with, "We shall," turning to glance to R'hin awaiting confirmation. R'hin's low chuckle is his response to Satiet's words to M'wen, not inclined to dispute the words - even if he could. A curve of lips indicates his amusement as gaze flickers to M'wen. His eyes are on the goldrider rather than their destination, and he pauses to adjust the stole pinned to one shoulder before he moves to Satiet's side, slipping his arm underneath her hand. "As you wish, lady of the spires." Something agreeable sits nicely on Satiet's lips, nearly genuine pleasure, as she guides the two men attached to her arms towards the winecraft doors. Satiet opens the northwestern door and steps into the tasting hall. Satiet has left. You open the double doors and step into the tasting hall. Tasting Hall, Benden Winecraft(#1001RIJM$) Wood reclaimed from old wine casks were re-used for the deep, red hardwood wall panels of this tasting hall, still trickling the pleasant aroma of elegant, aged red wine. Towards the back, directly opposite the entrance, a long, ornate, marbletop table stretches across the length of this room. Twin glass display stands flank either side of the main entranceway, showcasing bottles of the more recent vintages of the Winecraft, intermingled among placards and wherhide scrolls outlining the histories behind each pressing. Pots containing inviting, fresh, hot Benden klah sit on a table at one corner of the room, surely a welcome sight to any traveller during these cold, winter months. The free-standing glowlamp shutters are usually closed this time of night, leaving only the recessed wall lamps to illuminate the room. Large, double doors guard the entrance from the courtyard and keep away the elements, and a smaller but heavier door keeps the din of the gaming room from disturbing the serenity of this hall. A third doorway beckons students to the classroom. Tonight there is a gaily festooned set of garlanded bowers leading into the Gala Tent just out in the courtyard. [+view is used here.] Contents: Satiet Evina Obvious exits: Gala Tent Winecraft Classroom Courtyard Gaming Room M'wen steps in from the courtyard, letting the door slide shut behind him. M'wen has arrived. R'hin's eyes rove over the various casks and tables as he steps inside, looking pleased as he steps inside. "You do realize," he notes, "That it is only fair that we should taste test some of the wines we intend to buy first." He gestures towards the row of whites lined up down one side of the hall. Satiet turns large eyes, overly wide in their feigned innocence to R'hin. A beat later, her alto, low and warmer for the company they now keep - the abundance of alcohol - inquires, "And that wasn't the intent of our visit in the first place, my bronzerider?" Possession hints in the pronoun and in the arch way her voice lilts on the placed title. To the brownrider along her other arm, Satiet tips her head away and flashes a more amiable smile, dangerously saccharine. "Do you drink much, brownrider?" M'wen remains silent, not seeming to find his surroundings of much interest. Glancing about at the various sights, he attempts to find -something- that would warrent his attention. Failing, his gaze lingers back to Satiet as he answers the question, "I won't pretend I don't drink, but I won't drink for the sake of drinking." He pauses briefly, considering, "But I'll make an exception today." R'hin is either oblivious to the pronoun - unlikely - or prefers to let it pass on unremarked upon. "No, the intent was to secure bottles of wine for -later-. But since you insist..." he trails off, a hand gesturing towards a nearer table on which rests a tray of half filled glasses. The tone of Satiet's comment, and M'wen's response, earns a sidelong look. "Have you intentions of getting our brownrider drunk, Satiet?" Her drawls her name, though it's not enough to cover hint of surprise at M'wen's answer. That it just passes without remark only serves to deepen Satiet's smugness, though it's only betrayal is the slightest curl of her fingers along R'hin's arm. "I've no desire to get unwilling participants drunk, neither do I plan on getting drunk myself, but a pity to not taste first and then select later." Pale eyes, glittering in avarice for the casks drift across the expanse of the room before returning to her companions. "It's expected after all." Sparing R'hin a faint look from behind lowered lashes, the demure expression is turned on to M'wen. "Would that exception be for today, or for me, sir?" The last is drawled out. A small smile is given to Satiet, though it has almost a sly appearance to it. "Wouldn't you like to know," is replied furtively. He tilts his head slightly to address both Satiet and R'hin with, "Well you two are the wine connoisseurs here, let's get on with it. Might as well make sure the stuff we're...well you're taking back is good." With the faintest of snorts betraying amusement at the demure expression, R'hin slips his arm from Satiet's, stepping towards the table and selecting two glasses. Collecting one in each hand, he offers them towards his fellow 'Reachians, "Oh, ho. Good show, old man," he chortles approvingly of M'wen's words, "As for the wine, you should invest in some yourself. It can be useful." With one arm relinquished, Satiet slips the other from around M'wen's arm and eases them forward, fingers flexed together before an easy stretch reaches them high towards the ceiling. Exhaling, her arms drop and one step goes forward to speed the process of accepting the wine glass R'hin offers. "I might like to know," is her belated return to the brownrider, slyness stealing across her features as she takes in the heady scent of the white in appreciation. M'wen takes the offered glass of wine with a nod of thanks. Taking a brief sniff, "It just smells like wine to me, but then again, it's not to often that I drink and it's not from R'hin's seemingly endless private stores." Regarding the raven haired woman beside him, "What's in it for me?" Is his reply, the sly look returning to his features. Once the glasses are accepted by his compatriots, R'hin turns to collect a final glass for himself, lifting it in a toast. "To knowledge left unspoken." He takes a sip - a small one, rolling the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing. "Hardly endless," he answers, "Or I wouldn't be here seeking to restock them. And you, my good man, are always welcome to partake of my private stock, if you've a wish to." He tips his glass towards M'wen, before lips curve and he turns pale, speculative glance on Satiet to await her response. "A toast, my dear brownrider," Satiet returns, careful to swish the liquid in her glass and inhaling its aroma again. The glass lifts lightly to the brunet. "But nothing more can I promise as my heart, alas, has been divvied and partitioned less equally amongst many." The flirtation drops wry on her silvered tongue, her lashes lowering in a false sense of embarrassment. It's drop also masks the shift in her gaze to glance to R'hin. "And what do you make of this wine?" "Then the answer to your question will remain unanswered." is M'wen's reply as he raises his glass to the toast. His expression remains unchanged, looking to have been expecting a reply as such, as he turns his attentions to R'hin. "Ahh, but that is where the word seemingless comes into play. We shall see if your stock is in worry from me afterwards." "Our weyrwoman is happily weyrmated, a permanent and joyous bond," R'hin murmurs over the top of his glass. Rather than answering Satiet's question immediately, he takes another sip of the wine, before smiling blandly. "Sweet, and light, but hardly vintage," is his eventual assessment, the glass put aside as he begins to move towards the next table along, though M'wen's comment earns a look over his shoulder, low laugh audible. "Now I think I should be concerned," he comments with some amusement. "Such that it is," is Satiet's response, a thread of anger hinting beneath the silken tone. "Happily, indeed." While R'hin sets his first glass down in favor of another, the weyrwoman tips the glass back, downing the entirety down her throat. "It's an easy wine to drink. A good first start at the least for our less inclined brownrider." Her empty glass finds the table, slid along gently to sidle up next to the bronzerider's still filled one, and with a beckon of her fingers for the brownrider, she also continues after R'hin. M'wen downs the glass, muttering to himself sounding much like, "It just tastes like wine to me." But follows after the other two, hoping to have some light shed on the matter. An eyebrow is raised at Satiet's tone, but rather then make a comment, he remains silent, awaiting the next taste test of wine. The tone of voice is enough to draw R'hin's attention, a glance over his shoulder at Satiet's expression and a single, lifted eyebrow bespeaking surprise. "Trouble in paradise, lady of the spires? Say it isn't so. Xalerth still haunts Teonath's ledge." R'hin, being R'hin, can't -not- make a comment. The next table is examined, the bronzerider swiftly procuring three more glasses, passing them along. "Ah, my good brownrider, you must learn to better appreciate the finer things in life. It is as much about how the wine complements the intended meal... and the diners... as anything else." His gaze seems to linger on the goldrider with a hint of a smile curving his lips, though concealed swiftly enough by an experimental sip. Silent now, coldness radiating from her inwardly drawn physique, Satiet reaches for her own glass and pretends ignorance of the conversation about her, R'hin's comments to her or to M'wen, as well as the look he proffers. Another swish, a sniff, and then a miniscule sip is taken. "Looks like you hit a nerve R'hin, now would probably be a good time to drop it." M'wen directs towards the bronzerider, knowing all to well that his words will probably do no good. Taking a sip from the new glass, he seems inclined to mutter some more, but remains quiet, hoping to look like he actually noticed a difference in the two wines. This wine is a little more sharp, the aftertaste more noticeable, almost bitter. A long sigh is given as R'hin's eyes drift to M'wen, seemingly pleased as much by Satiet's reaction as the brownrider's words, though he says, "Certainly, my wise man. I'm merely attempting to look out for you - after all, you two seem to be hitting it off quite nicely." Satiet nurses the glass closer and more tenderly, a picture of distance from her two companions though M'wen -- M'wen, he receives a fleeting look, brow lifted and gaze keen. Light steps keep her moving along to the next table, a row of various dessert wines in tinier glasses decorating the surface. Then, she turns to spare the pair of men a cool look, her face tilted, chin lifted, and her gaze slanted downward along the high slopes of her cheekbones. "I see how he keeps you alive, b- R'hin. You couldn't do better for a lifelong companion." M'wen returns the look, before turning to R'hin and chuckling softly, "Yeah, you lucked out on meeting me R'hin." He then widens his gaze to fall on both riders, waiting on a response from either of them, as he sips from a wine glass, trying to figure out what makes it any better then the previous two glasses. R'hin's head tilts at Satiet's comment, a beat, then breaks into low laughter. "Very true," he agrees easily, "I did indeed, M'wen. And don't think I don't appreciate it. I'd buy you a bottle of white in appreciation, but I think it would go to waste. Perhaps you'd like something of the Dijilia's wares instead?" A hand reaches up to twitch the stole attached to the embroidered tunic he wears, "Though you perhaps strike me as after something more conservative?" The mention of the traders draws Satiet's pale eyes to what R'hin wears, a mix of emotions shadowing her delicate features and narrowing her eyes. "Traders of a feather flock together," her mundane quip falls flat, and with an expressive shrug on her shoulders, the goldrider turns to take a second wineglass, and then somehow manages two in one hand and approaches M'wen with the singular glass in one hand. "This will be more to your liking," her advice firm, "It's sweet, made for desserts rather and tends to seem more like juice that's been left out a bit too long and chilled than wine." M'wen gives a smile and nod to Satiet as she gives him the glass, a murmured 'thanks' as well. Taking a brief sip he nods, adding on a brief, "Yes it's quite good," before turning back to R'hin. "Maybe I'd look good in something as garish as that, you never know 'til you try eh?" Turning back to Satiet he asks, "What do you think? Garish and showy, or..." he makes a weak gesture towards himself. R'hin moves along to the next table, selecting a glass, though more of his attention is on Satiet than the wine at this point. "The younger woman that's with them - Jen?" He uses the nickname, perhaps deliberately, "She's certainly an interesting one. Very persuasive." M'wen's comment receives a speculative look, though he's no fashion expert, "Ask the lady trader. She'll find something suitable for you," he encourages. "I'd be interested in your opinion of her." Alternating between her two glasses, Satiet favors the sharp bitterness of the second to the over-sweetness of the third. For garish or showy, rather than make a decision, the weyrwoman looks M'wen up and then down before following up again and spares a simple shrug. Her head turns, the slight and very deliberate movement eliciting a light tousle of her dark hair, as pale eyes seek distraction from the conversation, or her companions. Seeing that the current line of talk has managed to lapse one of the party into silence, M'wen takes it on himself to say, "Well I met Bayan the other day, quite the character he is..." Though finishing rather lamely, it's hoped that a bit more enthusiasm is invoked. "Ahh, I've met her, she reminds me of the two of you, but much less tolerable to be around, and slightly more...bothersome to me." A brief sip is taken of the next glass, R'hin looking thoughtful as he takes another experimental sip, approving. "Ah, now this is more like it. It goes down a lot smoother than the others - that's how you can tell the age." Pale eyes flicker to M'wen at the mention of Bayan, though hand waves as if immediately dismissing itinerant. "If you ignore him, he'll go back to Fort eventually." Head tips, however, more intrigued by the latter comment. "Oh, really? I found her quite pleasant. Intolerable how?" he queries. "Bothersome?" That draws Satiet's attention back over, her lashes flying upward immediately at the brownrider's appraisal of the trader woman. The press for more information lilts in the one word inquiry. But before that, the last of her second glass is drained and set onto the table, the third taking center stage as it plays between her two hands - merely the stem being traded back and forth to keep her warming fingers off the curve of the glass. M'wen stammers slightly as all attention is turned to him, "Well, um, she acted really single-minded, then as soon as she thought she had figured me out, the rest of the time was spend being treated with a condescending attitude." Having nothing else to say, he silences any efforts to continue by turning his attention back to the wineglass. "Really." R'hin's lips purse thoughtfully, the faintest narrowing of eyes as if ill-pleased with the treatment on his friend's behalf. "I believe it may be worth taking a closer look out our new visitors." The statement is offered casually enough, filed away for later attention as he swirls the wine in his current glass around, before draining the rest of the glass. "I believe I've made my choice." "As have I," comes Satiet's quiet words, though the softness of it doesn't negate the inherent cool quality of her intonation. Past M'wen, pale eyes find R'hin a long beat, then with a turn that shrouds her expression and leaves only the glossy image of raven hair to her companions, the slight weyrwoman saunters towards one of the journeymen on duty with low words of a transaction begun. M'wen remains silent, letting the buying of the wine go on in peace. He lingers back, waiting for them to finish. He drums his fingers along a table slightly impatiently, humming a soft tune to himself. R'hin's eyes find and follow Satiet as she turns away, the bronzerider taking a step closer to M'wen as he murmurs in a confidential undertone, "I believe our weyrwoman senses competition." The wry comment is followed by a step after the woman, garnering the attention of one of the other journeyman as he places his own order. Busy in her dealings, the goldrider doesn't overhear the comment. The exchange of marks, a hefty pouch of them, is finally made after the continually low-kept conversation with the faintest smile that hints on Satiet's lips. The journeyman leaves, and soon thereafter he returns with a small crate of 12, only a third of the vintage the trio have partaken of today. Gesturing simply, the weyrwoman indicates for the man to take it outside to the courtyard and then turns to the other riders. "None for you?" A brow lifts M'wen-ward. "Not even one?" "I said I'd make an exception today, and I still stand by that, and I can always take advantage of R'hin's hospitality." M'wen sends a grin towards the bronzerider, not being obvious whether the comment was in jest or otherwise. "Shall we go?" R'hin's own order is rather smaller than Satiet's, and consequently fewer marks are exchanged. Pale eyes watch the apprentices pack the crate and take it outside, before eyes shift towards M'wen, smile curving his lips. "I bought an extra bottle specifically for you," he replies, and for his part he does seem to be serious. The answer to M'wen's question is seemingly deferred to the goldrider, as he casts a querying glance to Satiet. At M'wen's words, without a word, Satiet strides towards the courtyard, her skirt swishing lightly around her legs. Satiet pushes open the double doors and steps outside. Satiet has left. You push open the double doors and step outside to the courtyard. Courtyard, Benden Hold(#555RJM) To the north, you see the towering cliff face that houses Benden Hold. A stone wing has been built off of the cliff to the west, and here you will find the WineCraft Hall. The shadowy bulk of the watch-wher can be made out high above on the Fireheights. Tall banks of snow have drifted up against the walls, but paths to all the entrances are kept swept clean of snow. The sentry passes by frequently on patrol, and you occasionally hear faint sounds from within - the clink of glassware or muffled conversation. The ramp to your south leads out of the courtyard. The doors to the Great Hall and guards' barracks lead into the Hold, and the doors to working caverns and the pub open into the WineCraft Hall areas. [+view is used here.] Type 'map' for a map of the hold. Type '+lhelp' for more information about Benden Hold Contents: Satiet Maxeoth Leiventh Teonath(#223JOQaep) Obvious exits: Ramp FireHeights STables Guards' Barracks Winecraft Working Caverns Tasting Hall Great Hall M'wen pushes open the double doors and steps out from the tasting hall. M'wen has arrived. M'wen grabs his riding gear from Maxeoth's flank and throws it on, The brown looking on. With a grisp salute to R'hin and surprisingly enough, a gallant bow to Satiet, he swings up onto the dragons back, a rumbled greeting from Maxeoth. M'wen hops up onto Maxeoth's back, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching closely. M'wen has left. A speculative glance is given the brownrider, R'hin waiting for the apprentices to get the crate securely strapped Leiventh before he follows suit. You jump up onto Leiventh's back, using his straps as handholds. Surprised foremost by the bow, Satiet's response is belated, but is her own variant of a bow - her chin dropping slightly lower than normal and a cordial look affixed onto her features. The apprentice that awaits with the crate is then directed to Teonath's side, his lack of squeamishness only a testament to the boy's general boldness, or his experience with loading dragons. Then, Satiet also mounts and Teonath rises in the air. |
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