Story time
Who: Phara, T'rev, Winston
Where: Living Cavern
When: Dinner time on day 15, month 12, turn 18
What: Winston's sharing stories and tells one to T'rev. Phara joins them and T'rev shares a story. Then Winston has to go without getting to hear Phara's.
Look! It's dinnertime! That means the living cavern is not only loud, but quite full. There's much jostling, laughing, and general dinnertime activities as a whole bunch of the Weyr gathers together. The smells from the kitchen mix with the smells of a whole lot of people many of them fresh scrubbed from their daily labors. Winston's got a plate and a half of food before him along with a cup of ale as he holds court at his table. A combination of men and women listen to some absurd tale he spins using cutlery and dinner rolls as props.
Leaning back from his seat just a table over, T'rev's been keeping an ear on the confabulation over there, while working his way through a plate piled high. "S'at really how it went, Winston?" he calls over, eyes twinkling after a moment.
The dinner roll being used gets a bite taken out of it as Winston turns to look at T'rev. "Oh, upon my mother's honor I swear the man did just that and the flock responded." He holds up his hand and presses it to his heart. "Would I lie?" This he asks to the table at large and in reply gets several half-eaten dinner rolls tossed at him.
"On your mother's honor," T'rev echoes, still grinning from ear to ear. "Lie? No. Spin a good one? Yeah. C'mon, give us another one and make it a challenge. We can try n' pick out the parts as is exactly like it was and the bits as is all storified up."
Leaning back now Winston's grin only grows. "Well, if you wish," he says with a twinkle in his eyes. "Now, the first thing I have to explain, for those come late to my life, is that I come from a little place down by Southern Boll called Two Trees Hold." He winks at one of the women at his table and glances at T'rev. "With me so far, wingleader?"
"Two Trees," T'rev says with a wide grin. "Ain't so far from the road down to the Terriv camp," he tacks on and tips his chair back onto two legs, listening, while some of his wingmates give him head-shaking looks.
Winston's grin steadies to an even thing not too carried away. "Well, truth is Two Holds has an interesting history for such a tiny place. Seems when it was settled the holder set to make a home for himself had a slight problem." There's a pause for a drink from his ale before taps a finger on his lip. "The problem was to get the hold he had to marry the right woman. But he'd been...seeing a woman for some time."
"Ain't that always how it goes?" T'rev says merrily. "Can't always get what you want?" Down come the chair legs and he reaches forwardto rescue his mug, gives a two-fingered salute to his wing table and ambles on over to pull out a chair nearer to the story-teller.
"Well, seems my great-great and something grandpappy had a plan," Winston tells T'rev with a wink. "He was a smart man. Suppose I take after him." This is said, likely, just to get a laugh and it does. "Now nothing says a man can't have cake and eat it too. Unless he's a baker I suppose and knows all the tricks."
A hearty chuckle even, from T'rev at that statement. "Best to have a plan too if that's what you're aimin' for," he notes, which makes a pretty brunette at the table titter and drop her head, hair falling to hide her face.
"So here he is, great old Tharton. With a woman on his arm and another tucked up away." Winston has to stop to take another bite of his food and he looks at one of the redheads at his table and winks at her. "Mighty fine job you did," he tells her before getting back to his story. "So he goes asking some farmers and finds a place for his pretty lady to wait for him and he sets up building his new hold with his wife."
"Frosting on that cake too?" T'rev teases the store-room worker gaily, then quiets down to listen. A brief, bright smile is flashed to that brunette as she looks back up at him and tucks her hair back behind her ears.
"Not all cake is good without. Now the problem Tharton had was those that were looking to be his holders rather liked his wife." Winston's into his story enough now to let his dinner wait. "And he goes to the farmer there and explains to him he needs a system so his lady friend will know when his wife is off visiting her family so she can come up to the hold to see him." The storeroom worker stretches his legs under the table to nudge the cook's foot. "The farmer he tells Tharton to plant a couple trees on the road. Says that the trees will bloom twice a year and that's when he needs to be sure his wife goes to see her family."
"And that's how the hold got its name?" T'rev asks, hand rubbing along his chin and he looks over and around at the others. "Anybody spottin' anything exaggerated there?"
"Well, shells, wingleader. I ain't even done with the story yet. Although that is how it gets its name." Winston takes a drink from his ale and sets the cup down with a thump. "Now the secret that ole Tharton didn't figure out being in no way a farmer is that his trees didn't ever bloom." He laughs at this, quietly and briefly. "So there his little side bit sat waiting and when a turn passed she gave up and moved on to Fort where it's said she seduced two of Fort's sons and got nothing for her trouble. And ole Tharton never did catch on until he caught his holders laughing at him over it. Guess he weren't so smart after all."
Dimpling cheekily, T'rev just lifts his shoulders in an innocent little shrug, before he starts laughing outright. "Poor guy. So those trees, they still not bloom, or is that gussied up?" His mug is tilted, a sip taken. "Wouldn't put it past some in the Lord's family to've gone that way, neither. Though Lord Savilan's pretty straight n' narrow."
"Trees're still there," Winston assures with a wide grin. "Ain't never seen a bloom on it at all. So, I suppose that means it really wasn't a blooming tree." Story done he tucks into his dinner with a smile. "Ain't his fault he was so smart he was dumb," he says once he's eaten some of his food while it's still warm.
"Nice. Have to go see 'em sometime," T'rev drawls out and lifts his mug in toast to the teller. "That's an innerestin' idea though. Bein' so smart you're dumb. Hmm."
The people at Winston's table seem to like the story enough that one of them shoves his own ale across to the story teller. "Such a thing as being too dumb. Such a thing as being too smart. It is a scary combo let me tell you. Runs in my family though." He thumps his chest. "Ain't my problem. I'm all pretty and no brains." With dinner in full swing the cavern is pretty loud and busy, but that doesn't stop Winston from speaking loud enough to be heard by everyone at his table.
Phara comes out of the inner caverns with her hair all messed up and her boots unlaced. The ends click against the floor with each step, but that's irrelevant in this noise. She glances around, thoughtful, and then smiles at a few people as she passes. A particular ruckus draws her attention and she turns to look at the table full of people making that noise.
"I dunno, Winston, you got a clever enough tongue in your head," T'rev compliments loosely and leans his elbows on the table, hands curled around his mug. "I like a good story at any rate. Have to remember that one." Phara's arrival registers as motion out of the corner of his eye more than anything else and the bronzerider turns, beams at his wingrider, holds out an arm to welcome her. "Hey!"
"Sure, but it only gets me in trouble," Winston replies to T'rev with a chuckle. "A smooth tongue is not all it is cracked up to be, you know." Phara's nearness is sadly missed right now because there's that redhead at his table who's making eyes at him and he turns his full attention on her a moment to listen as she leans across the table and whispers something in his ear.
Phara glances at T'rev, her eyes sweeping his face in a distracted way, like she's not sure he's actually who she thought he was at first. A lazy, tired smile crosses her face and she comes over to that outstretched arm, steps into it with her hip against his ribs so she can wind her arm around his head. "Hi," she greets with more warmth than she can muster on her relaxed face. "Having fun?"
T'rev threads his arm comfortably around Phara's waist, grins up at her. "Yeah, Winston's got his story on. Wanna try to give him a run for his marks? Just like old times y'know, when we used to tell stories at Telgar," the bronzerider tells her fondly. "I'm tryin' to think of some of my best trader ones. You know any of those Winston?"
"Phara, beautiful," Winston greets with a wide smile and a wink just for her. "Always a pleasure to see you. And if I'd known we were competing I wouldn't have just passed out family history I assure you." He picks at the remains of his dinner in between sentences, but by now he seems ready to be done with it. "Can't say as I know any of the good ones."
Phara considers for a time, touching a fingertip to one of T'rev's curls. "Oh, you know I'm always up for a story." She nods her head to Winston. "Hello, Winston. Family, eh? Sad I missed that one."
"Yeah, he told us how his home hold got its name," T'rev says happily and tips his mug up for another drink. "I could tell you 'bout the Terrivs and fire, if y'like," he offers, looking around the table and up at Phara.
The redhead gets up and comes around the table to nudge a place next to Winston. Something gets whispered in his ear that makes him chuckle and slide his arm around her waist. "Think a story'd be fine," he tells T'rev with a nod. "Always happy to hear a new one. Man gets stale hearing the same thing over and over. And, Phara, my dear. I would be happy to tell you again sometime."
Phara nods her head, looks at T'rev for permission as she sinks down to rest lightly on his knee. "Yeah, like the Trader stories. And I can tell you about the caprine that fell in love with me, if you like." She winks at Winston. "Sure, Winston, some time."
T'rev shifts a little in his chair to make a better lap for Phara to sit on, keeping his arm around her waist to help balance the bluerider. "Mariun's goat?" he asks her, grinning up at Phara, then nods. "All right then, we'll do the story of how the Terrivs got their fire. Y'all ready?" and he looks around expectantly for some of the chatter to die down. When he starts, his voice drops into a regular cadence with a particular lilt to it. It's soothing and lends itself to remembering what the bronzerider says. "Long time ago, way back before anyone remembers, the family came over the water to the land here in the north. Things had been terrible when Thread came and for a time, all the people hid under rocks together and there was no fire as there had been, to keep the heart of the caravan at night."
Much to her dismay Winston shushes the redhead when T'rev starts to speak. The story starting also keeps him from offering more than a charming smile to Phara in reply. While the redhead may seem pouty it doesn't stop the lower caverns man from hauling up closer to his side. Which she allows so clearly pouting is just an act. At least she doesn't say another word even if she's maybe not listening as much.
Phara wiggles into T'rev's lap to get comfortable, letting her head droop against his chest. She watches Winston and the rest of the table rather than trying to watch T'rev's face. She lets his voice do the work instead. "No, not Mariun's goat, though I'm sure she had a bit of a crush on everyone in the Barracks." And then she's silent to listen.
"Good ole Lado," T'rev interrupts himself briefly, gives Phara a little squeeze and goes on. "If anyone knows the Terrivs at all, and many other trading clans like them, you know that the fire in the camp is very important to the life of the caravan. It's central, where everyone gathers at nightfall, so not having fire was a big a blow and as things got more organized and the family branched out onto the roads again, something had to be done. It wasn't enough just to light a new fire, something of the old one had to be found. So it was that Terriv himself went looking through all the wagons, all the families, asking after kindling and charcoal, any little piece left over from the time that was."
Since it's not his turn to tell a story Winston plays the good listener. Other than occasionally maybe letting his eyes stray to one woman or another that happens to cross the path of his attention.
Phara snorts at T'rev when he brings up the kid's name. "Of course you'd remember," she mumbles and shuts up again, settling into the rhythm of his story.
T'rev just dimples at Phara and goes on. "So after gathering up a lot of these things and making a sort of foundation out of near-ashes, Terriv went looking for fire that came from the sky, not fire from flint, stick or dragon. He had to wait though, for a storm to come and for the thunderbolts to fall from the sky. Several storms passed as the caravan moved along the roads, but none of them threw a bolt near enough or strong enough to make fire. It was as they passed through the hills between Gar and Fort, that Terriv finally decided to go see if he could draw a bolt down out of the sky himself. The caravan had made camp down in a dell, but he climbed to the top of a hill where a lone tree stood and tied a cross-bar from the dray-beast's harness to one of the higher branches, then waited for the storm to come."
The redhead doesn't seem into Winston enough to put up with his split attention. With a little huff she stands up and heads off and the storeroom worker just lets her go. His eyes follow her a bit, but then his attention is back on the storyteller. Shoulders shrug if someone meets his eyes. Easy come, easy go.
Phara lets her eyebrows crease when the redhead abandons Winston and licks her lips. Her eyes widen. "Wait a sec. He went /looking/ for lightning?" This gets a look from her and a shake of her head, but she lets him continue, trying hard not to interrupt again. Her talking isn't making her popular with the rest of the table, clearly, because she gets a sour look for the comment from more than one person.
"Terriv went looking for lightning. The rod was put in the tree and a string tied to the rod and the string's end put into the pot of gathered bits of wood." T'rev goes on, voice still moving in that same rhythm. "And then he sat down a little ways away and waited. And waited. The storm came. It broke overhead." The bronzerider's voice takes on a more urgent tone, breaking in between phrases to emphasize the storm's arrival. "Crashes and booms fell all around with the rain and lightning crackled overhead, reaching for the ground. Again and again it struck, but did not find the tree or the rod." He takes a deep breath, looks around the table. "The storm was starting to blow over and Terriv thought that once again, the chance had passed. He was just getting to his feet to leave, when, as the sky started to turn to blue again, a lone bolt struck the rod dead-on and the fire ran down into the string and caught in the tinder in the pot."
Winston's mug of ale gets occasional sips when the rhythm of the story allows it. The redhead is long since flounced out of his life for the evening. He does flicker his gaze away from T'rev to watch this woman or that cross the room. But none of them seem to really catch his eye since he's always back to listening to the story.
Phara listens with her lips pressed together firmly. She lets out a little sigh when the lightning finally catches, finally craning her head a little to see T'rev while he speaks.
"Jubilant, Terriv waited just a little before he went to get the pot of fire. He took hold of it carefully and carried it back down to the camp. There he lit the great fire in the camp's center, carefully feeding dry wood kept aside and built up a hearty blaze. That night there was dancing and singing and good things to eat, bringing back the old tradition at last. And every night since that night, the fire is re-lit in the camp, from an ember of the previous night's fire. The spark kept alive for hundreds of turns since that very night that Terriv first brought fire from a lightning bolt back to the caravan." And so does the story end, with T'rev just quiet for a bit.
Silence comes from Winston too the same as has been going on since the story started. His silence ends when his mug gets thumped down on the table so he can clap. "And my story whimpers and crawls off to lick its wounds, wingleader," he says with a chuckle.
Phara grins at Winston and drops him a wink. "T'rev's a good storyteller," she agrees, beaming proudly up at her friend like his ability somehow reflects favorably on her. "I don't think goats can trump that," she adds thoughtfully.
"Awww we need funny after the serious," T'rev says with a bright grin and empties the last of his mug into his mouth. "All kinds of stories are good ones. And I didn't make that one up. S'a traditional tale, y'know. C'mon, Pha, tell us about the goat."
With a sigh Winston gets to his feet and grins. "I would love to hear a story, Phara, my darling, but unfortunately I have a meeting with someone's feet." He winks at the bluerider as he picks up his plate and mug. "But we can trade stories sometime soon." Turning his grin to T'rev now he nods. "Still good. Thanks for it. I'll be seeing you around."
Phara snorts and readjusts herself in T'rev's lap. "Oh fine, Winston. I miss your story, you miss mine, we're even." She twiddles her fingers at him. "Have fun with the feet..." if that's possible.
Where: Living Cavern
When: Dinner time on day 15, month 12, turn 18
What: Winston's sharing stories and tells one to T'rev. Phara joins them and T'rev shares a story. Then Winston has to go without getting to hear Phara's.
Look! It's dinnertime! That means the living cavern is not only loud, but quite full. There's much jostling, laughing, and general dinnertime activities as a whole bunch of the Weyr gathers together. The smells from the kitchen mix with the smells of a whole lot of people many of them fresh scrubbed from their daily labors. Winston's got a plate and a half of food before him along with a cup of ale as he holds court at his table. A combination of men and women listen to some absurd tale he spins using cutlery and dinner rolls as props.
Leaning back from his seat just a table over, T'rev's been keeping an ear on the confabulation over there, while working his way through a plate piled high. "S'at really how it went, Winston?" he calls over, eyes twinkling after a moment.
The dinner roll being used gets a bite taken out of it as Winston turns to look at T'rev. "Oh, upon my mother's honor I swear the man did just that and the flock responded." He holds up his hand and presses it to his heart. "Would I lie?" This he asks to the table at large and in reply gets several half-eaten dinner rolls tossed at him.
"On your mother's honor," T'rev echoes, still grinning from ear to ear. "Lie? No. Spin a good one? Yeah. C'mon, give us another one and make it a challenge. We can try n' pick out the parts as is exactly like it was and the bits as is all storified up."
Leaning back now Winston's grin only grows. "Well, if you wish," he says with a twinkle in his eyes. "Now, the first thing I have to explain, for those come late to my life, is that I come from a little place down by Southern Boll called Two Trees Hold." He winks at one of the women at his table and glances at T'rev. "With me so far, wingleader?"
"Two Trees," T'rev says with a wide grin. "Ain't so far from the road down to the Terriv camp," he tacks on and tips his chair back onto two legs, listening, while some of his wingmates give him head-shaking looks.
Winston's grin steadies to an even thing not too carried away. "Well, truth is Two Holds has an interesting history for such a tiny place. Seems when it was settled the holder set to make a home for himself had a slight problem." There's a pause for a drink from his ale before taps a finger on his lip. "The problem was to get the hold he had to marry the right woman. But he'd been...seeing a woman for some time."
"Ain't that always how it goes?" T'rev says merrily. "Can't always get what you want?" Down come the chair legs and he reaches forwardto rescue his mug, gives a two-fingered salute to his wing table and ambles on over to pull out a chair nearer to the story-teller.
"Well, seems my great-great and something grandpappy had a plan," Winston tells T'rev with a wink. "He was a smart man. Suppose I take after him." This is said, likely, just to get a laugh and it does. "Now nothing says a man can't have cake and eat it too. Unless he's a baker I suppose and knows all the tricks."
A hearty chuckle even, from T'rev at that statement. "Best to have a plan too if that's what you're aimin' for," he notes, which makes a pretty brunette at the table titter and drop her head, hair falling to hide her face.
"So here he is, great old Tharton. With a woman on his arm and another tucked up away." Winston has to stop to take another bite of his food and he looks at one of the redheads at his table and winks at her. "Mighty fine job you did," he tells her before getting back to his story. "So he goes asking some farmers and finds a place for his pretty lady to wait for him and he sets up building his new hold with his wife."
"Frosting on that cake too?" T'rev teases the store-room worker gaily, then quiets down to listen. A brief, bright smile is flashed to that brunette as she looks back up at him and tucks her hair back behind her ears.
"Not all cake is good without. Now the problem Tharton had was those that were looking to be his holders rather liked his wife." Winston's into his story enough now to let his dinner wait. "And he goes to the farmer there and explains to him he needs a system so his lady friend will know when his wife is off visiting her family so she can come up to the hold to see him." The storeroom worker stretches his legs under the table to nudge the cook's foot. "The farmer he tells Tharton to plant a couple trees on the road. Says that the trees will bloom twice a year and that's when he needs to be sure his wife goes to see her family."
"And that's how the hold got its name?" T'rev asks, hand rubbing along his chin and he looks over and around at the others. "Anybody spottin' anything exaggerated there?"
"Well, shells, wingleader. I ain't even done with the story yet. Although that is how it gets its name." Winston takes a drink from his ale and sets the cup down with a thump. "Now the secret that ole Tharton didn't figure out being in no way a farmer is that his trees didn't ever bloom." He laughs at this, quietly and briefly. "So there his little side bit sat waiting and when a turn passed she gave up and moved on to Fort where it's said she seduced two of Fort's sons and got nothing for her trouble. And ole Tharton never did catch on until he caught his holders laughing at him over it. Guess he weren't so smart after all."
Dimpling cheekily, T'rev just lifts his shoulders in an innocent little shrug, before he starts laughing outright. "Poor guy. So those trees, they still not bloom, or is that gussied up?" His mug is tilted, a sip taken. "Wouldn't put it past some in the Lord's family to've gone that way, neither. Though Lord Savilan's pretty straight n' narrow."
"Trees're still there," Winston assures with a wide grin. "Ain't never seen a bloom on it at all. So, I suppose that means it really wasn't a blooming tree." Story done he tucks into his dinner with a smile. "Ain't his fault he was so smart he was dumb," he says once he's eaten some of his food while it's still warm.
"Nice. Have to go see 'em sometime," T'rev drawls out and lifts his mug in toast to the teller. "That's an innerestin' idea though. Bein' so smart you're dumb. Hmm."
The people at Winston's table seem to like the story enough that one of them shoves his own ale across to the story teller. "Such a thing as being too dumb. Such a thing as being too smart. It is a scary combo let me tell you. Runs in my family though." He thumps his chest. "Ain't my problem. I'm all pretty and no brains." With dinner in full swing the cavern is pretty loud and busy, but that doesn't stop Winston from speaking loud enough to be heard by everyone at his table.
Phara comes out of the inner caverns with her hair all messed up and her boots unlaced. The ends click against the floor with each step, but that's irrelevant in this noise. She glances around, thoughtful, and then smiles at a few people as she passes. A particular ruckus draws her attention and she turns to look at the table full of people making that noise.
"I dunno, Winston, you got a clever enough tongue in your head," T'rev compliments loosely and leans his elbows on the table, hands curled around his mug. "I like a good story at any rate. Have to remember that one." Phara's arrival registers as motion out of the corner of his eye more than anything else and the bronzerider turns, beams at his wingrider, holds out an arm to welcome her. "Hey!"
"Sure, but it only gets me in trouble," Winston replies to T'rev with a chuckle. "A smooth tongue is not all it is cracked up to be, you know." Phara's nearness is sadly missed right now because there's that redhead at his table who's making eyes at him and he turns his full attention on her a moment to listen as she leans across the table and whispers something in his ear.
Phara glances at T'rev, her eyes sweeping his face in a distracted way, like she's not sure he's actually who she thought he was at first. A lazy, tired smile crosses her face and she comes over to that outstretched arm, steps into it with her hip against his ribs so she can wind her arm around his head. "Hi," she greets with more warmth than she can muster on her relaxed face. "Having fun?"
T'rev threads his arm comfortably around Phara's waist, grins up at her. "Yeah, Winston's got his story on. Wanna try to give him a run for his marks? Just like old times y'know, when we used to tell stories at Telgar," the bronzerider tells her fondly. "I'm tryin' to think of some of my best trader ones. You know any of those Winston?"
"Phara, beautiful," Winston greets with a wide smile and a wink just for her. "Always a pleasure to see you. And if I'd known we were competing I wouldn't have just passed out family history I assure you." He picks at the remains of his dinner in between sentences, but by now he seems ready to be done with it. "Can't say as I know any of the good ones."
Phara considers for a time, touching a fingertip to one of T'rev's curls. "Oh, you know I'm always up for a story." She nods her head to Winston. "Hello, Winston. Family, eh? Sad I missed that one."
"Yeah, he told us how his home hold got its name," T'rev says happily and tips his mug up for another drink. "I could tell you 'bout the Terrivs and fire, if y'like," he offers, looking around the table and up at Phara.
The redhead gets up and comes around the table to nudge a place next to Winston. Something gets whispered in his ear that makes him chuckle and slide his arm around her waist. "Think a story'd be fine," he tells T'rev with a nod. "Always happy to hear a new one. Man gets stale hearing the same thing over and over. And, Phara, my dear. I would be happy to tell you again sometime."
Phara nods her head, looks at T'rev for permission as she sinks down to rest lightly on his knee. "Yeah, like the Trader stories. And I can tell you about the caprine that fell in love with me, if you like." She winks at Winston. "Sure, Winston, some time."
T'rev shifts a little in his chair to make a better lap for Phara to sit on, keeping his arm around her waist to help balance the bluerider. "Mariun's goat?" he asks her, grinning up at Phara, then nods. "All right then, we'll do the story of how the Terrivs got their fire. Y'all ready?" and he looks around expectantly for some of the chatter to die down. When he starts, his voice drops into a regular cadence with a particular lilt to it. It's soothing and lends itself to remembering what the bronzerider says. "Long time ago, way back before anyone remembers, the family came over the water to the land here in the north. Things had been terrible when Thread came and for a time, all the people hid under rocks together and there was no fire as there had been, to keep the heart of the caravan at night."
Much to her dismay Winston shushes the redhead when T'rev starts to speak. The story starting also keeps him from offering more than a charming smile to Phara in reply. While the redhead may seem pouty it doesn't stop the lower caverns man from hauling up closer to his side. Which she allows so clearly pouting is just an act. At least she doesn't say another word even if she's maybe not listening as much.
Phara wiggles into T'rev's lap to get comfortable, letting her head droop against his chest. She watches Winston and the rest of the table rather than trying to watch T'rev's face. She lets his voice do the work instead. "No, not Mariun's goat, though I'm sure she had a bit of a crush on everyone in the Barracks." And then she's silent to listen.
"Good ole Lado," T'rev interrupts himself briefly, gives Phara a little squeeze and goes on. "If anyone knows the Terrivs at all, and many other trading clans like them, you know that the fire in the camp is very important to the life of the caravan. It's central, where everyone gathers at nightfall, so not having fire was a big a blow and as things got more organized and the family branched out onto the roads again, something had to be done. It wasn't enough just to light a new fire, something of the old one had to be found. So it was that Terriv himself went looking through all the wagons, all the families, asking after kindling and charcoal, any little piece left over from the time that was."
Since it's not his turn to tell a story Winston plays the good listener. Other than occasionally maybe letting his eyes stray to one woman or another that happens to cross the path of his attention.
Phara snorts at T'rev when he brings up the kid's name. "Of course you'd remember," she mumbles and shuts up again, settling into the rhythm of his story.
T'rev just dimples at Phara and goes on. "So after gathering up a lot of these things and making a sort of foundation out of near-ashes, Terriv went looking for fire that came from the sky, not fire from flint, stick or dragon. He had to wait though, for a storm to come and for the thunderbolts to fall from the sky. Several storms passed as the caravan moved along the roads, but none of them threw a bolt near enough or strong enough to make fire. It was as they passed through the hills between Gar and Fort, that Terriv finally decided to go see if he could draw a bolt down out of the sky himself. The caravan had made camp down in a dell, but he climbed to the top of a hill where a lone tree stood and tied a cross-bar from the dray-beast's harness to one of the higher branches, then waited for the storm to come."
The redhead doesn't seem into Winston enough to put up with his split attention. With a little huff she stands up and heads off and the storeroom worker just lets her go. His eyes follow her a bit, but then his attention is back on the storyteller. Shoulders shrug if someone meets his eyes. Easy come, easy go.
Phara lets her eyebrows crease when the redhead abandons Winston and licks her lips. Her eyes widen. "Wait a sec. He went /looking/ for lightning?" This gets a look from her and a shake of her head, but she lets him continue, trying hard not to interrupt again. Her talking isn't making her popular with the rest of the table, clearly, because she gets a sour look for the comment from more than one person.
"Terriv went looking for lightning. The rod was put in the tree and a string tied to the rod and the string's end put into the pot of gathered bits of wood." T'rev goes on, voice still moving in that same rhythm. "And then he sat down a little ways away and waited. And waited. The storm came. It broke overhead." The bronzerider's voice takes on a more urgent tone, breaking in between phrases to emphasize the storm's arrival. "Crashes and booms fell all around with the rain and lightning crackled overhead, reaching for the ground. Again and again it struck, but did not find the tree or the rod." He takes a deep breath, looks around the table. "The storm was starting to blow over and Terriv thought that once again, the chance had passed. He was just getting to his feet to leave, when, as the sky started to turn to blue again, a lone bolt struck the rod dead-on and the fire ran down into the string and caught in the tinder in the pot."
Winston's mug of ale gets occasional sips when the rhythm of the story allows it. The redhead is long since flounced out of his life for the evening. He does flicker his gaze away from T'rev to watch this woman or that cross the room. But none of them seem to really catch his eye since he's always back to listening to the story.
Phara listens with her lips pressed together firmly. She lets out a little sigh when the lightning finally catches, finally craning her head a little to see T'rev while he speaks.
"Jubilant, Terriv waited just a little before he went to get the pot of fire. He took hold of it carefully and carried it back down to the camp. There he lit the great fire in the camp's center, carefully feeding dry wood kept aside and built up a hearty blaze. That night there was dancing and singing and good things to eat, bringing back the old tradition at last. And every night since that night, the fire is re-lit in the camp, from an ember of the previous night's fire. The spark kept alive for hundreds of turns since that very night that Terriv first brought fire from a lightning bolt back to the caravan." And so does the story end, with T'rev just quiet for a bit.
Silence comes from Winston too the same as has been going on since the story started. His silence ends when his mug gets thumped down on the table so he can clap. "And my story whimpers and crawls off to lick its wounds, wingleader," he says with a chuckle.
Phara grins at Winston and drops him a wink. "T'rev's a good storyteller," she agrees, beaming proudly up at her friend like his ability somehow reflects favorably on her. "I don't think goats can trump that," she adds thoughtfully.
"Awww we need funny after the serious," T'rev says with a bright grin and empties the last of his mug into his mouth. "All kinds of stories are good ones. And I didn't make that one up. S'a traditional tale, y'know. C'mon, Pha, tell us about the goat."
With a sigh Winston gets to his feet and grins. "I would love to hear a story, Phara, my darling, but unfortunately I have a meeting with someone's feet." He winks at the bluerider as he picks up his plate and mug. "But we can trade stories sometime soon." Turning his grin to T'rev now he nods. "Still good. Thanks for it. I'll be seeing you around."
Phara snorts and readjusts herself in T'rev's lap. "Oh fine, Winston. I miss your story, you miss mine, we're even." She twiddles her fingers at him. "Have fun with the feet..." if that's possible.