Logs:Kids These Days - Revision history

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Satiet at 18:38, 27 September 2011

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Satiet at 18:37, 27 September 2011

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 N'thei's gonna tell. Seriously. Milani's so going to hear about this. Just you wait.
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	The largest tunnels lead to the main living cavern, to the bowl and to the Weyr entrance, but it's still easy for the uninitiated to get lost within this maze.		The largest tunnels lead to the main living cavern, to the bowl and to the Weyr entrance, but it's still easy for the uninitiated to get lost within this maze.
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−	~~<pre>>---< Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr: Glance >-----------------------------<~~
−	~~NAME SEX AGE HT BUILD HAIR EYES IDLE~~
−	~~----------------------------------------------------------------------------~~
−	~~Isziyo M 24 6'4 muscular shaven brown 6s~~
−	~~Mikandros M 19 6'4" muscular black brown 11m~~
−	~~N'thei M 29 6'4 stocky brown gray 0s~~
−	~~Rimara F 20 5'0" slender dark brown green 4m~~
−	~~>----------------------------------------------< 4 people / +glance/long >---<</pre>~~

	Mikandros just isn't content with anyone falling into silent listen mode. They must be drawn back into the conversation, because really, it's just rude to stand around chatting without including others. So once more, he directs a slightly nosy question towards Isziyo. Speak, man! "Yer accent marks ye as a native. Ye got family here? Folks, sibs?" His grin lingers on his face as Rimara continues her observations, though it starts to fade when her last sentence is finished. "Oh, miss Rimara, ye ought not think that way. Ye've made yerself a place here, and folks I've seen treat ye like onna them. An' shells - pardon - but if m'-Ma- likes ye... Ye b'long here, miss Rimara." Firm nod. Near the entrace to the kitchens, the tall and brightly clad younger Candidate is standing next to the dimunuitive Rimara, both of them looking freshly scrubbed though dried off by now. Isziyo is sat down on a chair with a couple large bins placed in front of him, one filled with a haphazard pile of washed utensils, the other boasting neat rows of dried ones.		Mikandros just isn't content with anyone falling into silent listen mode. They must be drawn back into the conversation, because really, it's just rude to stand around chatting without including others. So once more, he directs a slightly nosy question towards Isziyo. Speak, man! "Yer accent marks ye as a native. Ye got family here? Folks, sibs?" His grin lingers on his face as Rimara continues her observations, though it starts to fade when her last sentence is finished. "Oh, miss Rimara, ye ought not think that way. Ye've made yerself a place here, and folks I've seen treat ye like onna them. An' shells - pardon - but if m'-Ma- likes ye... Ye b'long here, miss Rimara." Firm nod. Near the entrace to the kitchens, the tall and brightly clad younger Candidate is standing next to the dimunuitive Rimara, both of them looking freshly scrubbed though dried off by now. Isziyo is sat down on a chair with a couple large bins placed in front of him, one filled with a haphazard pile of washed utensils, the other boasting neat rows of dried ones.

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