Nathein meets Ywain, then discusses courage with Shanlee.
RL Date: 7/7/07
IC Date: 8/31/12
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#1000RIJs)
The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. Piles of summer fruit give off a shimmer of color and a waft of sweet aromas from their cradling bowls. Hanging sheaves of herbs and spices rustle in the breeze, adding their fragrance as well. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. People move briskly about their business, the chatter of children and creeling of hungry firelizards in counterpoint. The aroma of freshly baked bread fills the air.
Ywain sits, klah in hand and attention on Shanlee, who holds his drum.
Ywain may have put a tunnelsnake onto the wingsecond's lap for the look that the drum is currently getting. Trying to focus instead on his deep voice, Shan hovers on the edges of actually following his enticing instructions as clear unease flicks about the petite frame simultaneously. When he leaves her without it stepping away as he does to settle back into his chair, the redhead fixes a long stare at the stretched hide. Brows touch together in a frown as she finally takes it up, running a brief touch of fingers over the surface, then settles it carefully on the tabletop "I know how it goes." contrary to her words of before. Now it's the harper that comes under scrutiny "Why do you want me to use it?" the light tone low.
*...when he leaves her with it....
Ayson strolls into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Ayson has arrived.
Clearly, the harper thinks that is one oddball question, and thus, he doesn't answer right away, but studies the woman for a long, long moment, exploring the realm of possibilities for an answer. Finally, totally straigh faced, the man clears his throat, "It's a talent contest and secret recruiting mission I've been sent on," he speaks low, conspiratorily, eyes squinting slightly as he pretends not to notice anyone else in the room. "But you passed the test. If, in fact, you'd have drummed out anything with a semblance of talent, there were three fairs of Harper firelizards lurking just outside, who would have flown in here and -- dragon not-with-standing -- taken you *between* and then to an isolated lake on the outskirts of the Western Continent. I cannot," he murmurs, "Tell you any more without risking my station, Shanlee." He nods, seriously, and takes a bite of the pie.
Ywain sits at a table, attention on Shanlee, who has just put his drum on a nearby table. Both are armed against the morning with a mug of klah.
Nathein must have had a bath not too long ago judging by the dampness of his hair and the generally squeaky look of his face. Putting his buttons in order as he comes in, rolling the cuffs of his sleeves, he sets toward the fruit piles with abandon, picking up this and that and the other. As yet, he hasn't gotten around to noticing the harper and the greenrider, being as he's a healthy young man bent on foodstuffs.
Ayson arrives by way of the kitchens, looking as if he's been working in the kitchens. Which he probably has been, considering the stains and things on his pants and shirts. He runs his hands through his hair, getting it out of his face. Noticing Shanlee, he stuff his bandaged right hand straight into his pocket and heads for the food.
So focused on trying to avoid looking at the drum and keeping her own thoughts at bay that threaten to swamp her mind, Shan misses the arrival of the two candidates. Ywain's conspiratorially outlandish reply has the greenrider blinking at him clearly baffled a moment or two until it hits that he's teasing. Laughter peals out, light and musical for the exit handed to her by the harper "Is that a promise or a threat harper?" Amazing how she could change demeanor at almost the drop of a hat, however, the previous edges of discomfort still taint the green depths of her eyes.
"Which," Ywain's basso smooths just slightly, "Would you prefer, greenrider?" Now he'll nod toward both of the Candidates who have entered, a glance back to Shanlee. "Of course, for a price, I might be able to arrange to have -them- take part in the contest as well, ma'am. You say the word. We harpers," Ywain's expression is /definately/ not innocent, "Aim to please, you know." One brow crooks up as the man flirts outrageously.
Nathein finally settles for getting a big bowl and piling it with berries and cream and sweetener, with a pair of apples and the end of a loaf of bread to go with it, leaves him to linger long enough for Ayson to make his way into speaking range. "You don't quite look fit for civilized company. Ayson, isn't it?" One apple-wielding mitt lifts to wave toward Shanlee, whom he recognizes, with a study for Ywain, whom he doesn't.
Leaning back in her chair as the stiffness eases out of her, Shan chuckles "Speak to me at the end of the day and I might have an answer for you." Following his glance and the sound of a familiar voice, the wingsecond twists around her own hand coming to lift in response to Nathein's 'apple' greeting which then draws her attention on to Ayson. His somewhat disheveled appearance standing out starkly against the other candidates more 'scrubbed' look. Back to Ywain "Oh really?" a fine brow arches as a smirk plays about her mouth for the flirting "And, do tell harper." the title drawling out "Just how far would you be prepared to go to do that?" a calculating cast touching the woman's eyes.
A laughing chuckle meets Shanlee's words, with Ywain leaning back on his chair and studying her for another long moment. "We harpers do love such open-ended questions, you know." That's the warning, before he'll ask, "And where might I find you at the end of the day, ma'am? Words might only go so far in answering a quesiton such as yours; actions being much better fitted to it." Vague, yes. Ywain grins over to the other two, by default including them, and adding to the fruit-toter, "The bubblies were fresh-made this morning."
For all that he just put half of the full container of sweetener in his berries and cream, Nathein still says, "I can't quite fancy eating something that sugary for breakfast, but I'll keep it in mind this afternoon, sir." He leaves Ayson to sorting out his own food and, interpreting Ywain's remark as invitation, crosses over to claim a spare seat nearby. "Harper, then?"
Shanlee raises a brow, mouth repressing a smirk "You'll find this 'humble' little greenrider not so easily played dear harper." His study of her returned with as close one of her own, then leaning forward to close the distance between them a little in an almost intimate way "However, a good bottle of whiskey and..." here the reason for that previously calculating look appears "...three questions you would find appropriate for each of my candidates to ask of a rider concerning the dangers they face..." her smile becomes one full of charm "...will find me right here. Waiting for you." Giving him 'actions' to act on as he'd mentioned. Once Nathein approaches with the sweetner overload, the greenrider fixes him with a sweeping look upward which settles to his mid-section "Planning on growing a belly already?" amusement flecking her tone.
Shanlee is addressed first, being quite more the harper's taste. His murmur turns silky, evidently only happening at very low volumes, I love to learn new ways to play," he answers, "And practice makes perfect." Consideration of the price, "They whiskey, I can do. Now. Allow me to ask for clarification: You want me to come up with three questions that you will have the Candidates ask other riders, concerning the nature of the profession and the inherant dangers thereof. This is what you ask?" In the moment he'll give Shanlee to answer, Ywain turns to Nathein, "Harper now." Ywain's answer to Nathein is buffered with another grin, that expression seeming to come easy to the man's features. "Ywain, sir," He'll 'sir' back to Nathein, "Weyrharper here until they toss me out or call me back." Whichever they may be, is left unaddressed.
Nathein puts a big bite in his mouth and rubs his stomach with his spoon-hand, smiles around his bite at Shanlee in a wordless answer to her question. He looks like he's enjoying the meal enough to suffer a belly later on. He swallows; "Are you taking bets on which comes first? The tossing out or the calling back?" There's a pretend-eagerness in his expression, the look of someone who'd like to get in on that wager.
Dry amusement now rests on Shan and is directed back to Ywain for his silken tones with a flick of green eyes "You can't play a player harper." her voice dropping to match his own in quiet reply, then lifting again to more audible tones. "This is what I ask. I could set them questions.." a glance flicked over to Nathein one of the candidates under open discussion "....but I feel an educated slant from a non-rider's point of view may provide more telling answers then from one involved in the daily risks herself." The belly rubbing coming from the big candidate elicits a roll of eyes "Just means more laps around the bowl if you do, or..." a sly tone "....being overlooked by the ladies." chin tipping toward several of the kitchen girls eyeing Nathein with moony expressions. His eagerness, narrows a contemplative look on him.
Ywain rather comically at Shanlee's mention of 'ladies', glances overtly at his pie, but he'll shrug and aside to Nathien, "Of course, if you're already overlooked by the ladies, you might as well enjoy the food, eh? --I'll take you a wager on that, then, Candidate: Which side would you be having?" The light banter gives the man a bit more time to consider some semblance of a witty answer to Shanlee, "You can, maybe, play a player who's willing to play, and then the play'd be all the better for both players. Or," he adds as an afterthought, "Maybe a player can play with a player. Making it near professional, and all." He'll pop the last of his own bubbly in his mouth and chew, still managing to look amused without loosing crumbs, even.
"There are some things worth a few extra laps, ma'am." Nathein fishes a plump-looking berry out of the depths of the cream and sweetener, displays it on his spoon, then puts it in his mouth with a sideways look toward the mooning girls. "And I'm less worried about being overlooked than some. As to your wager..." His expression shades serious, thoughtful, and he chews contemplatively; "You fancy yourself a ladies' man, obviously, which could get a person into trouble, except Master Rodric was always slick like that, so I imagine he'd look the other way. So I'll lay you half a mark on recalled before booted."
"Nathein...." the warning for the bets being placed coming without thought from Shan "...the last candidates that spent their time gambling found themselves restricted to barracks for a time and on double duty." pause "My dearly beloved clutchmates." this however, draws a grin and wry chuckle "You may want to rethink that." it doesn't seem she's about to make a fuss right now though. That plump berry is followed with a near covetous look and then it's gone. So back to Ywain and his apparent attempt to confuse her "But to play the player and play together requires a player to want to be played, no?" a hint of a pause "Or should the player not wished to be played, the play of it all becomes decided. Thereby...." a finger lifts "...making one of the players.....played." smirk.
A bold laugh from the dark-skinned harper, and Ywain's study lingers again on Nathein. "Hardly, there, lad -- hold up! You've forgotten the Harper's Addage: When in the Weyr, do as the Weyrfolk. Figure that there's weyrmating common enough here, but far less than handfastings at the Hold and Hall, so the expectation of behavior is, I'm supposing, more 'open'." Then, quieter, "I'll take that wager, but you'll have to find me at the Hall, to collect your winnings, or give me mine." A wink, before Ywain addresses mock-innocent eyes back to Shanlee, "Ever, for the love of the game, it should be attempted. One shall not play, for fear he might lose, eh? For how can one appreciate the eventual winnings, should they ever be had, if one does not know the sting of defeat?"
Nathein raises his eyebrows in an amused warning to Ywain; "When I made implications like that, harper, I wound up chastised. Something to keep in mind. And don't worry; I'll come looking for you when I win." Wordlessly, in light of the covetous look, he slides his bowl partway toward Shanlee, leaving the spoon resting along the edge of it. "This is hardly 'spending my time gambling,' ma'am. Just a friendly wager." He pointedly stays out of the topic of playing and players and being played. Instead, he eats an apple.
Even although the comment was not directed at her but backing Nathein's return up "Not..all...riders." Shan grits through her teeth for things being more 'open' in a weyr then elsewhere. As Ywain concludes the outlines of the wager and Nathein slides the bowl over, the greenrider sits looking at the spoon for a moment. Then foregoing the eating utensil plucks a berry out of it's creamy nest and pops it in her mouth a lopsided grin flicking to the candidate for the gesture. Noting blandly in response to the harpers last "Sometimes the sting of defeat is enough to ensure one is good enough to remain unplayed." the cast to the green eyes unreadable "Rather the player then the played." she ends with finality.
"And not all Harpers sing." Ywain casts back at Shanlee, then sending another amused look at Nathein, "And I'm not a Candidate, but I do appreciate your warning for the purposes of your winning your wager." A glance at the berries, the spoon, and the one that disappears down Shanlee's throat, but Ywain contents himself with his klah. "So. There's eggs on the Sands." Conversation abruptly turned. "When might they Hatch? The littles have all sorts of opinions."
"It was more of a warning for the purposes of not making Shanlee get cross. Now that you mention it, I guess it does hit two birds." Nathein has manners enough not to talk with his mouth full of apple, but he's still bent on getting through the rest of his meal, so he occasionally has to slow his part of conversation to keep up with eating. "Don't they teach harpers anything these days? 'Count three months and more, then five heated weeks...'"
"You learn real quick." Shan gives with a twitch of lips for Nathein's reply, then lifts a hand in truce to Ywain "And not all harpers sing." echoing his words back to him with light chuckle. Another berry sitting there all plump and juicy is just too much and this too is plucked up and swallowed in short course. Ywain's abrupt turn of conversation is about to have a comeback from the wingsecond when Nathein answers "How do you know that?" narrowed eyes fix on the big man, clearly she expected full reply on the matter.
But, as harpers will have the first and last word, Ywain doesn't let Nathein answer Shanlee without putting in his own quarter-mark opinion. And the candidate's rudeness has little to no visible effect on Ywain, who can't manage somber with the hints of grin on lips and eyes, "No, then, lad. They don't teach us a thing. In fact, it was rather like an red-fruit bob. Rodric, he left the Hall for a few days and the rest of us gathered around a big barrel, got blindfolds on, and had to pick a knot out of a barrel with our teeth, to find out what rank and specialty we'd have. Faranth be praised, that I got the drummer's knot. I was afraid I'd be solo-ing, or having to assist to the Master."
Nathein seems surprised by the suddenly narrowed eyes, and he hurries to swallow so he can answer Shanlee; "I thought everyone knew that, ma'am? It's a teaching song. 'Count three months and more, then five heated weeks, a day of glory, and in a month, who seeks?'" He does /not/ attempt to sing said teaching song, just pronounces it out like conversation. "Personally, I always fancied that law or scribing would be the worst lot for a harper. Can't even use it to pick up girls."
Ywain's sarcastic comeback on bobbing for knots has Shan throwing back her head and laughing delightedly. After a few moments and catching her breath the wingsecond manages to quip through a few chuckles that still bubble up "Well, now that explains a lot." in a rather ambiguous way. Nathein's explanation stills the laughter a perplexed look crossing the fine features "Yes, it's a teaching song. Just not a lot pay mind to them enough to remember past childhood." something clearly doesn't add up in her mind as may show in the folding of arms around herself as she slips into contemplative thought. A soft snort for harpers and picking up girls.
Downing the rest of his klah, Ywain rises and adds, dryly, "Helps to know when the queen rose, however, for the song to work right. -- But I suppose that's in another teaching song we Harpers have neglected to be taught." A general grin, and the drummer collects his instrument, swinging it over his shoulder by a strap. Next, the plate and mug, both empty, "Whiskey, this evening. Three questions." A quirky smile touches his lips, a nod toward Shanlee, before Ywain turns to wink at the lads, "Too true. Be tragic to find your true love in text, or to play a part in having them Shunned. But," he adds as he turns with a wave, "It'd make for a great fireside story, turns later." Off to the outside, where he is to meet his class, who may or may not bother to be present.
Nathein glibs, "Obviously, some of us paid better attention to our studies." Finished with his apple, he holds the stripped core by the stem and twirls it aimlessly from his fingers, looks up from that to Ywain as the harper makes ready to leave. There's a simple, ducking nod of farewell to the gent, then he glances Shanlee's way again; "Did you try asking the candidates for questions, by the way?"
The return to Nathein from Ywain, brings Shan's attention flicking back to the candidate watching for his reaction to it. The harper standing to take his leave of them flashes a smirk his way and a dip of head "Whisky and three questions this evening....here." the last added in case he thought to take the wrong idea of her deal with the man. Once he's left, the wingsecond turns her attention to the big ex-bendenite and raises a brow "You have one in particular you'd like to ask Nathein?" the twisting core given an idle glance, her tone turned sincere.
Nathein sets the core aside, reaches for the hunk of bread now. "Yes." He pulls the heel in half, offering a portion of it toward Shanlee with a questioning lift of his eyebrows. "If you knew then what you know now..." After a brief, contemplative pause; "Would you still have agreed to stand in the first place?"
Shanlee takes in that question, the silence that follows marred only by the faint clanking of pots coming from the kitchens and the soft scuffing of sandaled feet on rock as the drudges continue on with their chores. Catching her lower lip between small teeth, the greenrider finally nods slowly, eyes lifting to find Nathein's her expression somber "Yes Nathein, I would have. I owe the weyr a debt." Faint the smile that touches on her mouth as eyes slip off the candidate and travel around the cavern as if able to see outside of the rock too.
Nathein pursues to ask, "But a life debt?" He sets the offered half of bread down on the table where it can still be claimed should the notion arise, then leans back in his chair to start eating his own portion. "I never cared much for owing more than I could afford to pay, personally. So what debt?"
Chin coming up, total sincerity showing on Shan's face, she dips her head "Yes. A life debt." Following his movements with the bread, its taken up by the greenrider but likely more as something to do with her hands then to eat it, even if a small piece is pulled off and studied for a moment. To what her debt was "It matters not." then "Would you pay it to protect the life of another?" a question now directed back his way.
Nathein chews with the corner of his mouth, keeps the bite of bread from showing when he speaks; "You're asking me if I'd die for someone?" He doesn't answer, really, just takes a breath and shrugs. "Or you're asking me if I'd let someone else die for me? Neither one is an easy question, ma'am. Probably too hard for breakfast."
The small piece of bread finds its way to her mouth and Shan chews slowly as Nathein speaks. Swallowing before making reply "They're not meant to be Nathein, because -that- is what you face up there if you impress. The knowledge of holding your wingmate's lives in your hands and that of your dragon and the trust and teamwork involved in knowing they have your back too." Recalling a previous conversation, the greenrider inhales slowly then after the soft exhale "That first Fall over High Reaches Hold...." the light tone turning tight "....Snowstrike lost not only a greenrider but she lost her dragon and continued on to live herself - a hollow representation of what had been a vibrant, outgoing woman. Jorea's loss....most of us would rather die with our lifemates then to be without them." Shadowed green eyes touch on his face "I was her wingsecond and her friend and live with that everyday." his eyes sought out "Are you strong enough to do that?"
"I'm strong enough to know how much fellis it takes to kill a man, if that's your question, but I don't think that's what you're driving at." Nathein puts down the bread he hasn't finished eating and puts his elbows on the table instead. His fingers laced, he ducks enough so his mouth hangs behind his hands where it can't be seen, just his eyes. "You can't ask a man if he's brave enough to die or let someone else die. Nobody can know that till they have to."
"That is not knowledge hard to obtain." Shan returns on fellis with a smirking twist of mouth to follow it and glint to green eyes. Nathein hiding his mouth, draws her attention to his eyes searching for the truth of the man there, his answer bringing her jaw to tighten "Perhaps not. A lot of us younger riders flew untested and untried as will those that impress from your cycle. Life is a risk. It's how you face it that matters. Fight or flee? That is the real question."
Nathein must be smiling (or grinning) behind his hands to guess by the way the corners of his eyes wrinkle a little; "If we keep talking about this, you're going to realize I'm a coward. So maybe I'll think up a new question." He looks toward the bowl for a minute or two in thought, then asks, "What's your most favoritest of all the eggs and which one do you think will hatch the prettiest of all the dragons?" He manages to present the breathlessness of some of the more childish candidates in the query.
Lips curl into a wry smile for words coming from Nathein on being a coward "Would it help if I told you I'm terrified every time we go up there?" trying to offer the candidate a more human perspective on the task dragonriders faced. Shan's brow lift at this pretence of his "You are not seriously wanting an answer on that?" feigned incredulity brought to bear.
Nathein removes his hands now that the seriousness of the moment has passed, lowers them to collect his piece of bread. "Why not? It's the kind of question most candidates seem to have anyway, might as well get to the bottom of it. Aren't all dragons soooooooo pretty?" He flutters his eyelashes in rapture at the thought of dragons, a good impersonation of several of his peers.
Shanlee can't help but respond with a chuckle for the fluttering eyelashes, though a somber note does creep back in "Which is why you will all be shadowing riders for a day and asking those three questions as well as any of your own that you may have." Standing to her feet in a manner as to suggest weariness, the wingsecond offers Nathein a smile "You'll do fine Nathein. You don't strike me as one to run at the first sign of trouble." Dipping her head to add in hushed tone "Most of the weyr places bets on who will impress to what color and how many of each we'll be graced with." a wink as she straightens "That's how much we all know about it."
Nathein asks rhetorically, "I thought gambling was frowned upon?" He polishes his second apple against the front of his vest and smiles up at Shanlee in preparation for a farewell. "If I can make a request, I'd like to shadow the Weyrlingmaster. We met briefly the other night, and he seems like he's got enough to impart to make it feel like less of an imposition. And have yourself a good morning, ma'am."
Low laughter shows for the quip on gambling "Ahhh....but I'm not a candidate now am I?" Shan grins patting at Nathein's shoulder in a placating manner. His request is met with interest "I'daur?" a pause appears as she seems to consider this "Alright. I'll ask him." Approval clear in the green eyes "Clear skies Nathein." her hand lifting in a half wave as she turns and makes her way out of the now mostly deserted cavern.
Nathein sends a farwell-looking nod after Shanlee, then settles to eat his apple and probably contemplate the length and depth of that conversation. Eventually, that fades and he goes to introduce himself to the kitchen girls that were sighing all that time ago with a muttered, "Better late than never."
IC Date: 8/31/12
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#1000RIJs)
The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. Piles of summer fruit give off a shimmer of color and a waft of sweet aromas from their cradling bowls. Hanging sheaves of herbs and spices rustle in the breeze, adding their fragrance as well. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. People move briskly about their business, the chatter of children and creeling of hungry firelizards in counterpoint. The aroma of freshly baked bread fills the air.
Ywain sits, klah in hand and attention on Shanlee, who holds his drum.
Ywain may have put a tunnelsnake onto the wingsecond's lap for the look that the drum is currently getting. Trying to focus instead on his deep voice, Shan hovers on the edges of actually following his enticing instructions as clear unease flicks about the petite frame simultaneously. When he leaves her without it stepping away as he does to settle back into his chair, the redhead fixes a long stare at the stretched hide. Brows touch together in a frown as she finally takes it up, running a brief touch of fingers over the surface, then settles it carefully on the tabletop "I know how it goes." contrary to her words of before. Now it's the harper that comes under scrutiny "Why do you want me to use it?" the light tone low.
*...when he leaves her with it....
Ayson strolls into the cavern from the lower caverns.
Ayson has arrived.
Clearly, the harper thinks that is one oddball question, and thus, he doesn't answer right away, but studies the woman for a long, long moment, exploring the realm of possibilities for an answer. Finally, totally straigh faced, the man clears his throat, "It's a talent contest and secret recruiting mission I've been sent on," he speaks low, conspiratorily, eyes squinting slightly as he pretends not to notice anyone else in the room. "But you passed the test. If, in fact, you'd have drummed out anything with a semblance of talent, there were three fairs of Harper firelizards lurking just outside, who would have flown in here and -- dragon not-with-standing -- taken you *between* and then to an isolated lake on the outskirts of the Western Continent. I cannot," he murmurs, "Tell you any more without risking my station, Shanlee." He nods, seriously, and takes a bite of the pie.
Ywain sits at a table, attention on Shanlee, who has just put his drum on a nearby table. Both are armed against the morning with a mug of klah.
Nathein must have had a bath not too long ago judging by the dampness of his hair and the generally squeaky look of his face. Putting his buttons in order as he comes in, rolling the cuffs of his sleeves, he sets toward the fruit piles with abandon, picking up this and that and the other. As yet, he hasn't gotten around to noticing the harper and the greenrider, being as he's a healthy young man bent on foodstuffs.
Ayson arrives by way of the kitchens, looking as if he's been working in the kitchens. Which he probably has been, considering the stains and things on his pants and shirts. He runs his hands through his hair, getting it out of his face. Noticing Shanlee, he stuff his bandaged right hand straight into his pocket and heads for the food.
So focused on trying to avoid looking at the drum and keeping her own thoughts at bay that threaten to swamp her mind, Shan misses the arrival of the two candidates. Ywain's conspiratorially outlandish reply has the greenrider blinking at him clearly baffled a moment or two until it hits that he's teasing. Laughter peals out, light and musical for the exit handed to her by the harper "Is that a promise or a threat harper?" Amazing how she could change demeanor at almost the drop of a hat, however, the previous edges of discomfort still taint the green depths of her eyes.
"Which," Ywain's basso smooths just slightly, "Would you prefer, greenrider?" Now he'll nod toward both of the Candidates who have entered, a glance back to Shanlee. "Of course, for a price, I might be able to arrange to have -them- take part in the contest as well, ma'am. You say the word. We harpers," Ywain's expression is /definately/ not innocent, "Aim to please, you know." One brow crooks up as the man flirts outrageously.
Nathein finally settles for getting a big bowl and piling it with berries and cream and sweetener, with a pair of apples and the end of a loaf of bread to go with it, leaves him to linger long enough for Ayson to make his way into speaking range. "You don't quite look fit for civilized company. Ayson, isn't it?" One apple-wielding mitt lifts to wave toward Shanlee, whom he recognizes, with a study for Ywain, whom he doesn't.
Leaning back in her chair as the stiffness eases out of her, Shan chuckles "Speak to me at the end of the day and I might have an answer for you." Following his glance and the sound of a familiar voice, the wingsecond twists around her own hand coming to lift in response to Nathein's 'apple' greeting which then draws her attention on to Ayson. His somewhat disheveled appearance standing out starkly against the other candidates more 'scrubbed' look. Back to Ywain "Oh really?" a fine brow arches as a smirk plays about her mouth for the flirting "And, do tell harper." the title drawling out "Just how far would you be prepared to go to do that?" a calculating cast touching the woman's eyes.
A laughing chuckle meets Shanlee's words, with Ywain leaning back on his chair and studying her for another long moment. "We harpers do love such open-ended questions, you know." That's the warning, before he'll ask, "And where might I find you at the end of the day, ma'am? Words might only go so far in answering a quesiton such as yours; actions being much better fitted to it." Vague, yes. Ywain grins over to the other two, by default including them, and adding to the fruit-toter, "The bubblies were fresh-made this morning."
For all that he just put half of the full container of sweetener in his berries and cream, Nathein still says, "I can't quite fancy eating something that sugary for breakfast, but I'll keep it in mind this afternoon, sir." He leaves Ayson to sorting out his own food and, interpreting Ywain's remark as invitation, crosses over to claim a spare seat nearby. "Harper, then?"
Shanlee raises a brow, mouth repressing a smirk "You'll find this 'humble' little greenrider not so easily played dear harper." His study of her returned with as close one of her own, then leaning forward to close the distance between them a little in an almost intimate way "However, a good bottle of whiskey and..." here the reason for that previously calculating look appears "...three questions you would find appropriate for each of my candidates to ask of a rider concerning the dangers they face..." her smile becomes one full of charm "...will find me right here. Waiting for you." Giving him 'actions' to act on as he'd mentioned. Once Nathein approaches with the sweetner overload, the greenrider fixes him with a sweeping look upward which settles to his mid-section "Planning on growing a belly already?" amusement flecking her tone.
Shanlee is addressed first, being quite more the harper's taste. His murmur turns silky, evidently only happening at very low volumes, I love to learn new ways to play," he answers, "And practice makes perfect." Consideration of the price, "They whiskey, I can do. Now. Allow me to ask for clarification: You want me to come up with three questions that you will have the Candidates ask other riders, concerning the nature of the profession and the inherant dangers thereof. This is what you ask?" In the moment he'll give Shanlee to answer, Ywain turns to Nathein, "Harper now." Ywain's answer to Nathein is buffered with another grin, that expression seeming to come easy to the man's features. "Ywain, sir," He'll 'sir' back to Nathein, "Weyrharper here until they toss me out or call me back." Whichever they may be, is left unaddressed.
Nathein puts a big bite in his mouth and rubs his stomach with his spoon-hand, smiles around his bite at Shanlee in a wordless answer to her question. He looks like he's enjoying the meal enough to suffer a belly later on. He swallows; "Are you taking bets on which comes first? The tossing out or the calling back?" There's a pretend-eagerness in his expression, the look of someone who'd like to get in on that wager.
Dry amusement now rests on Shan and is directed back to Ywain for his silken tones with a flick of green eyes "You can't play a player harper." her voice dropping to match his own in quiet reply, then lifting again to more audible tones. "This is what I ask. I could set them questions.." a glance flicked over to Nathein one of the candidates under open discussion "....but I feel an educated slant from a non-rider's point of view may provide more telling answers then from one involved in the daily risks herself." The belly rubbing coming from the big candidate elicits a roll of eyes "Just means more laps around the bowl if you do, or..." a sly tone "....being overlooked by the ladies." chin tipping toward several of the kitchen girls eyeing Nathein with moony expressions. His eagerness, narrows a contemplative look on him.
Ywain rather comically at Shanlee's mention of 'ladies', glances overtly at his pie, but he'll shrug and aside to Nathien, "Of course, if you're already overlooked by the ladies, you might as well enjoy the food, eh? --I'll take you a wager on that, then, Candidate: Which side would you be having?" The light banter gives the man a bit more time to consider some semblance of a witty answer to Shanlee, "You can, maybe, play a player who's willing to play, and then the play'd be all the better for both players. Or," he adds as an afterthought, "Maybe a player can play with a player. Making it near professional, and all." He'll pop the last of his own bubbly in his mouth and chew, still managing to look amused without loosing crumbs, even.
"There are some things worth a few extra laps, ma'am." Nathein fishes a plump-looking berry out of the depths of the cream and sweetener, displays it on his spoon, then puts it in his mouth with a sideways look toward the mooning girls. "And I'm less worried about being overlooked than some. As to your wager..." His expression shades serious, thoughtful, and he chews contemplatively; "You fancy yourself a ladies' man, obviously, which could get a person into trouble, except Master Rodric was always slick like that, so I imagine he'd look the other way. So I'll lay you half a mark on recalled before booted."
"Nathein...." the warning for the bets being placed coming without thought from Shan "...the last candidates that spent their time gambling found themselves restricted to barracks for a time and on double duty." pause "My dearly beloved clutchmates." this however, draws a grin and wry chuckle "You may want to rethink that." it doesn't seem she's about to make a fuss right now though. That plump berry is followed with a near covetous look and then it's gone. So back to Ywain and his apparent attempt to confuse her "But to play the player and play together requires a player to want to be played, no?" a hint of a pause "Or should the player not wished to be played, the play of it all becomes decided. Thereby...." a finger lifts "...making one of the players.....played." smirk.
A bold laugh from the dark-skinned harper, and Ywain's study lingers again on Nathein. "Hardly, there, lad -- hold up! You've forgotten the Harper's Addage: When in the Weyr, do as the Weyrfolk. Figure that there's weyrmating common enough here, but far less than handfastings at the Hold and Hall, so the expectation of behavior is, I'm supposing, more 'open'." Then, quieter, "I'll take that wager, but you'll have to find me at the Hall, to collect your winnings, or give me mine." A wink, before Ywain addresses mock-innocent eyes back to Shanlee, "Ever, for the love of the game, it should be attempted. One shall not play, for fear he might lose, eh? For how can one appreciate the eventual winnings, should they ever be had, if one does not know the sting of defeat?"
Nathein raises his eyebrows in an amused warning to Ywain; "When I made implications like that, harper, I wound up chastised. Something to keep in mind. And don't worry; I'll come looking for you when I win." Wordlessly, in light of the covetous look, he slides his bowl partway toward Shanlee, leaving the spoon resting along the edge of it. "This is hardly 'spending my time gambling,' ma'am. Just a friendly wager." He pointedly stays out of the topic of playing and players and being played. Instead, he eats an apple.
Even although the comment was not directed at her but backing Nathein's return up "Not..all...riders." Shan grits through her teeth for things being more 'open' in a weyr then elsewhere. As Ywain concludes the outlines of the wager and Nathein slides the bowl over, the greenrider sits looking at the spoon for a moment. Then foregoing the eating utensil plucks a berry out of it's creamy nest and pops it in her mouth a lopsided grin flicking to the candidate for the gesture. Noting blandly in response to the harpers last "Sometimes the sting of defeat is enough to ensure one is good enough to remain unplayed." the cast to the green eyes unreadable "Rather the player then the played." she ends with finality.
"And not all Harpers sing." Ywain casts back at Shanlee, then sending another amused look at Nathein, "And I'm not a Candidate, but I do appreciate your warning for the purposes of your winning your wager." A glance at the berries, the spoon, and the one that disappears down Shanlee's throat, but Ywain contents himself with his klah. "So. There's eggs on the Sands." Conversation abruptly turned. "When might they Hatch? The littles have all sorts of opinions."
"It was more of a warning for the purposes of not making Shanlee get cross. Now that you mention it, I guess it does hit two birds." Nathein has manners enough not to talk with his mouth full of apple, but he's still bent on getting through the rest of his meal, so he occasionally has to slow his part of conversation to keep up with eating. "Don't they teach harpers anything these days? 'Count three months and more, then five heated weeks...'"
"You learn real quick." Shan gives with a twitch of lips for Nathein's reply, then lifts a hand in truce to Ywain "And not all harpers sing." echoing his words back to him with light chuckle. Another berry sitting there all plump and juicy is just too much and this too is plucked up and swallowed in short course. Ywain's abrupt turn of conversation is about to have a comeback from the wingsecond when Nathein answers "How do you know that?" narrowed eyes fix on the big man, clearly she expected full reply on the matter.
But, as harpers will have the first and last word, Ywain doesn't let Nathein answer Shanlee without putting in his own quarter-mark opinion. And the candidate's rudeness has little to no visible effect on Ywain, who can't manage somber with the hints of grin on lips and eyes, "No, then, lad. They don't teach us a thing. In fact, it was rather like an red-fruit bob. Rodric, he left the Hall for a few days and the rest of us gathered around a big barrel, got blindfolds on, and had to pick a knot out of a barrel with our teeth, to find out what rank and specialty we'd have. Faranth be praised, that I got the drummer's knot. I was afraid I'd be solo-ing, or having to assist to the Master."
Nathein seems surprised by the suddenly narrowed eyes, and he hurries to swallow so he can answer Shanlee; "I thought everyone knew that, ma'am? It's a teaching song. 'Count three months and more, then five heated weeks, a day of glory, and in a month, who seeks?'" He does /not/ attempt to sing said teaching song, just pronounces it out like conversation. "Personally, I always fancied that law or scribing would be the worst lot for a harper. Can't even use it to pick up girls."
Ywain's sarcastic comeback on bobbing for knots has Shan throwing back her head and laughing delightedly. After a few moments and catching her breath the wingsecond manages to quip through a few chuckles that still bubble up "Well, now that explains a lot." in a rather ambiguous way. Nathein's explanation stills the laughter a perplexed look crossing the fine features "Yes, it's a teaching song. Just not a lot pay mind to them enough to remember past childhood." something clearly doesn't add up in her mind as may show in the folding of arms around herself as she slips into contemplative thought. A soft snort for harpers and picking up girls.
Downing the rest of his klah, Ywain rises and adds, dryly, "Helps to know when the queen rose, however, for the song to work right. -- But I suppose that's in another teaching song we Harpers have neglected to be taught." A general grin, and the drummer collects his instrument, swinging it over his shoulder by a strap. Next, the plate and mug, both empty, "Whiskey, this evening. Three questions." A quirky smile touches his lips, a nod toward Shanlee, before Ywain turns to wink at the lads, "Too true. Be tragic to find your true love in text, or to play a part in having them Shunned. But," he adds as he turns with a wave, "It'd make for a great fireside story, turns later." Off to the outside, where he is to meet his class, who may or may not bother to be present.
Nathein glibs, "Obviously, some of us paid better attention to our studies." Finished with his apple, he holds the stripped core by the stem and twirls it aimlessly from his fingers, looks up from that to Ywain as the harper makes ready to leave. There's a simple, ducking nod of farewell to the gent, then he glances Shanlee's way again; "Did you try asking the candidates for questions, by the way?"
The return to Nathein from Ywain, brings Shan's attention flicking back to the candidate watching for his reaction to it. The harper standing to take his leave of them flashes a smirk his way and a dip of head "Whisky and three questions this evening....here." the last added in case he thought to take the wrong idea of her deal with the man. Once he's left, the wingsecond turns her attention to the big ex-bendenite and raises a brow "You have one in particular you'd like to ask Nathein?" the twisting core given an idle glance, her tone turned sincere.
Nathein sets the core aside, reaches for the hunk of bread now. "Yes." He pulls the heel in half, offering a portion of it toward Shanlee with a questioning lift of his eyebrows. "If you knew then what you know now..." After a brief, contemplative pause; "Would you still have agreed to stand in the first place?"
Shanlee takes in that question, the silence that follows marred only by the faint clanking of pots coming from the kitchens and the soft scuffing of sandaled feet on rock as the drudges continue on with their chores. Catching her lower lip between small teeth, the greenrider finally nods slowly, eyes lifting to find Nathein's her expression somber "Yes Nathein, I would have. I owe the weyr a debt." Faint the smile that touches on her mouth as eyes slip off the candidate and travel around the cavern as if able to see outside of the rock too.
Nathein pursues to ask, "But a life debt?" He sets the offered half of bread down on the table where it can still be claimed should the notion arise, then leans back in his chair to start eating his own portion. "I never cared much for owing more than I could afford to pay, personally. So what debt?"
Chin coming up, total sincerity showing on Shan's face, she dips her head "Yes. A life debt." Following his movements with the bread, its taken up by the greenrider but likely more as something to do with her hands then to eat it, even if a small piece is pulled off and studied for a moment. To what her debt was "It matters not." then "Would you pay it to protect the life of another?" a question now directed back his way.
Nathein chews with the corner of his mouth, keeps the bite of bread from showing when he speaks; "You're asking me if I'd die for someone?" He doesn't answer, really, just takes a breath and shrugs. "Or you're asking me if I'd let someone else die for me? Neither one is an easy question, ma'am. Probably too hard for breakfast."
The small piece of bread finds its way to her mouth and Shan chews slowly as Nathein speaks. Swallowing before making reply "They're not meant to be Nathein, because -that- is what you face up there if you impress. The knowledge of holding your wingmate's lives in your hands and that of your dragon and the trust and teamwork involved in knowing they have your back too." Recalling a previous conversation, the greenrider inhales slowly then after the soft exhale "That first Fall over High Reaches Hold...." the light tone turning tight "....Snowstrike lost not only a greenrider but she lost her dragon and continued on to live herself - a hollow representation of what had been a vibrant, outgoing woman. Jorea's loss....most of us would rather die with our lifemates then to be without them." Shadowed green eyes touch on his face "I was her wingsecond and her friend and live with that everyday." his eyes sought out "Are you strong enough to do that?"
"I'm strong enough to know how much fellis it takes to kill a man, if that's your question, but I don't think that's what you're driving at." Nathein puts down the bread he hasn't finished eating and puts his elbows on the table instead. His fingers laced, he ducks enough so his mouth hangs behind his hands where it can't be seen, just his eyes. "You can't ask a man if he's brave enough to die or let someone else die. Nobody can know that till they have to."
"That is not knowledge hard to obtain." Shan returns on fellis with a smirking twist of mouth to follow it and glint to green eyes. Nathein hiding his mouth, draws her attention to his eyes searching for the truth of the man there, his answer bringing her jaw to tighten "Perhaps not. A lot of us younger riders flew untested and untried as will those that impress from your cycle. Life is a risk. It's how you face it that matters. Fight or flee? That is the real question."
Nathein must be smiling (or grinning) behind his hands to guess by the way the corners of his eyes wrinkle a little; "If we keep talking about this, you're going to realize I'm a coward. So maybe I'll think up a new question." He looks toward the bowl for a minute or two in thought, then asks, "What's your most favoritest of all the eggs and which one do you think will hatch the prettiest of all the dragons?" He manages to present the breathlessness of some of the more childish candidates in the query.
Lips curl into a wry smile for words coming from Nathein on being a coward "Would it help if I told you I'm terrified every time we go up there?" trying to offer the candidate a more human perspective on the task dragonriders faced. Shan's brow lift at this pretence of his "You are not seriously wanting an answer on that?" feigned incredulity brought to bear.
Nathein removes his hands now that the seriousness of the moment has passed, lowers them to collect his piece of bread. "Why not? It's the kind of question most candidates seem to have anyway, might as well get to the bottom of it. Aren't all dragons soooooooo pretty?" He flutters his eyelashes in rapture at the thought of dragons, a good impersonation of several of his peers.
Shanlee can't help but respond with a chuckle for the fluttering eyelashes, though a somber note does creep back in "Which is why you will all be shadowing riders for a day and asking those three questions as well as any of your own that you may have." Standing to her feet in a manner as to suggest weariness, the wingsecond offers Nathein a smile "You'll do fine Nathein. You don't strike me as one to run at the first sign of trouble." Dipping her head to add in hushed tone "Most of the weyr places bets on who will impress to what color and how many of each we'll be graced with." a wink as she straightens "That's how much we all know about it."
Nathein asks rhetorically, "I thought gambling was frowned upon?" He polishes his second apple against the front of his vest and smiles up at Shanlee in preparation for a farewell. "If I can make a request, I'd like to shadow the Weyrlingmaster. We met briefly the other night, and he seems like he's got enough to impart to make it feel like less of an imposition. And have yourself a good morning, ma'am."
Low laughter shows for the quip on gambling "Ahhh....but I'm not a candidate now am I?" Shan grins patting at Nathein's shoulder in a placating manner. His request is met with interest "I'daur?" a pause appears as she seems to consider this "Alright. I'll ask him." Approval clear in the green eyes "Clear skies Nathein." her hand lifting in a half wave as she turns and makes her way out of the now mostly deserted cavern.
Nathein sends a farwell-looking nod after Shanlee, then settles to eat his apple and probably contemplate the length and depth of that conversation. Eventually, that fades and he goes to introduce himself to the kitchen girls that were sighing all that time ago with a muttered, "Better late than never."