[Log] What's Her Problem?
Who: D'mer, Karyn, Sh'drian, T'lar
When: Unknown
Where: Living Cavern, Ierne Weyr
What: D'mer and Sh'drian team up--to make a little girl cry.
---| Living Cavern |-----------------------------------------| Ierne Weyr |---
Every wall has been decorated, either by the elaborate colorful tapestries that are Ierne's trademark or the intricate carvings and architectural features, which have come from generations of Ierne candidates. Alcoves carry baskets of glows as well as colored glass bowls and other gifts to the Weyr from visiting dignitaries and Holders.
The cavern's floor is covered in long wooden tables with equally large benches or high-backed chairs. There is no dais or separation of tables for rank, contributing to the relaxed, friendly atmosphere that characterizes Ierne. At the tall hearth opposite the main doors there is always a hot pitcher of Klah and a warm caldron of stew -- otherwise, food can be found at the sideboards.
No less than three curving staircases, hewn out of the rock, climb the walls of this impressive room to allow access to other caverns, while one smooth ramp going only half as high dominates a corner of the room. Other entranceways include the irregular opening that leads to the kitchens.
The sultry summer afternoon slips away as a gentle breeze whispers softly beneath clear skies.
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People: Sh'drian Karyn D'mer
Others: Erma and Arma
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Storage Caverns Underground Stream Cavern
D'mer
D'mer peers out into the world with a pair of large blue-green eyes, thickly lashed. Their color is frighteningly vivid and can easily draw the onlooker's attention first; brows above them are neat, and slightly arched. His nose is perfectly straight and narrow, leading down to a set of full cupid-bow lips. Cheekbones are high, chiseled, and his skin is as pale as fresh cream. Thick, short, honey-blond hair has been woven into a mat of interlocking layers, with bangs that come down to the level of his eyebrows framing his forehead. The ends of the layers that reside upon his brow are set to points like five tiny talons, some facing one way and some the other. He's around 5'4", and his build is slender. However, wiry muscle has been packed onto a seemingly delicate bone structure, allowing his true strength to remain a mystery. Much more beautiful than a young man should be allowed, most might mistake him for a fresh young girl as they have in the past and yet he still could easily break many a heart. He speaks with a melodic husky-alto; accent showing he's lived in High Reaches, probably since birth.
Seemingly painted onto Dax is a pair of darkly dyed weyrhide pants, fitting ever inch and curve down to imagineless proportions. Matching this is a high necked leather jacket in the same hue, the length comes to the hip and gathers to accentuate the slenderness of his waist. Held closed with several buckles in silver here and there, it would appear this set of riding leathers to be an original, yet playful design. Feet are clad it boots slightly lighter then the rest of the gear already present, yanked up to just below his knees. Hands bare soft skinned leather gloves, obvious made to match the rest of his attire. On his left shoulder is a knot consisting of a thread of black, a thread of ocean blue, and a thread of green for his lifemate Xyrinth.
Karyn
A young child, with waves of long fiery red hair falling over her shoulders, and down her back in a tangled mess. Rosy pink cheeks, shining hazel eyes, and a wide smile give the girl a lasting mischievous look. She stands tall for her age, at just around four and a half foot, leaving her limber, and small enough to get in and out of those tight places. She has only scratches and bruises common in children who play actively.
She wears common play clothes, which consist of a simple tan short-sleeved shirt, and brown durable shorts, with a worn leather belt to hold them in place. On the back on her belt she carries a pouch, the holder of her keepsakes. If she wears shoes at all against the hot southern beaches, it will be only sandals to cover her feet.
Karyn frowned even further. "I had not thought about that. My mom just doesn't like the idea of my being a dragonrider, she says I should get my head out of the clouds and starting thinking about a practical future, but she just doesn't understand, I really want to be a dragonrider when i'm old enough, I mean no one ever really notices the people who do all the work in the kitchens or behind the scenes, do they?"
Sh'drian looks tired as he enters the living cavern, hair more disheveled than usual, clothes wrinkled in places and not in others, as though he did a lackluster ironing job. His first stop is the serving tables, where he takes a mug of klah. Then, it's off to the emptiest spot of the cavern. Who cares if it holds both Karyn and D'mer? Sh'drian hardly even notices as he slides into a chair nearby.
D'mer sits alone in a practically empty section of the living caverns, his icy exterior speaking volumes of his mood. He talks quietly with Karyn, seated a table over from the weyrling, his hands currently wrapped around his rapidly cooling mug of klah. "I notice them...I used to be one of them." he comments all rather dead pan, his female tones bland and lifeless. "Before Xyrinth found me, I used to mend the holes in clothes..." That said he shakes his head a little back and forth. "No one seems privy to tell anyone that dragonriding is a very dangerous profession. Thread is scary and it can kill not only you, but your dragon." He then slides his glacial gaze to Sh'drian and nods to him, saluting all rather stiffly. "Sir..."
Karyn shrugs. "My mom wants me to go into a craft, rather then just be a kitchen worker or a nanny. I don't know if I would want to do that either, but I don't think I would want to do a craft either. There is so much to think about and learn, I just want to play with my toys." Karyn is almost in tears at this point, the loss of her toys has her so distraught. She barely glances at the weyrleader, and greeting him with only a mouthed hi.
Sh'drian blinks vaguely at D'mer, inclining his head at length to the green weyrling. He doesn't notice Karyn for a long moment, until her youthful voice causes him to frown and peer over at her, brows arching. He doesn't seem overly concerned with her plight, though. "What's her problem?" he asks D'mer brusquely.
T'lar walks into the living cavern, tucking his gloves into his belt. He heads straight for the Klah and pours himself a large mug before even glancing around the Weyrhall to see who happens to be there. After taking a sip he glances around to try to find a quiet location. The quietest happens to be near where Shad, Karyn and D'mer are, so he heads in that general direction, but taking a seat far enough away so he doesn't seem to be intruding on them.
D'mer looks pointedly at Karyn. "If you don't like hard work and learning, I certainly hope you never become a dragonrider." he says flatly, not seeming to care just how cold and heartless to the poor girl's dilemma. "From the moment you Impress, its hard work till you and your dragon either go between together when your of no use any more...or until Thread claims you and your mount's life. Its not easy, and if there wasn't such a rich reward as being bonded to a dragon...I'd certainly pick a craft over the work involved being a rider." That said his gaze drifts over to Sh'drian when the man's question finally registrars. "She doesn't want to learn and be of use, so her mother took away her toys." he replies flatly. T'lar is noted, and his presence made know with a nod and salute from the weyrling greenrider.
Karyn frowns at D'mer, just incredibly hurt by his remarks. If she wasn't crying before she is now. So much so that she hasn't seen T'lar, and isn't paying attention to anything else but the cup of juice in front of her. "W-Why does evvverything have t-to b-be s-so hard?"
"How tragic," Sh'drian observes, glancing appraisingly over Karyn at D'mer's analysis of the situation. "But there's work in everything, no matter what you do. And if your life's ambition is to get yourself killed for other people's sakes, dragonriding is the way to go." He smirks dryly, rubbing at a temple tiredly despite himself. That smirk, however, fades as Karyn starts crying. Shooting a glare at D'mer, he tells the little girl sternly, "Don't you start that, now. You know nothing about hard, so... Stop it." Nanny he's not.
T'lar returns the weyrling's salute and sighs. He looks at both D'mer and Sh'drian and shakes his head, "don't either of you two have an ounce of compassion? Though it is basically true what both of you are saying, when you are as young as this young lady there should be a happy mixture of play and work." He glances at Karyn, "It is true, that there needs to be some learning, but it is also true that there needs to be play too. Dragonriders, weyrlings" he pauses and looks pointedly at Sh'drian, "and especially WeyrLeaders need to take time out of their busy schedule to play!"
When Karyn starts bawling, D'mer's head tips just a half of a degree to the left his brows drifting upwards only a touch upon his brow. His opinion if any at this point is not shared with the rest of the gathering, his gaze soon dropping to the mug between his two small hands, lifting it to his lips and taking yet another miniscule taste of the klah within. In so doing he misses Sh'drian's glare, which perhaps is for the best considering the greenrider's current temper. "Play is a useless waste of time." he mutters icily.
Karyn glances at Sh'drian, as he comments make her cry even more, she just looks so hurt by the heartless riders and gets up running over to T'lar wraping her arms about his waist and bawling into his arm. "Meanies." She calls back to the other two riders, in an attempt to inflict some sort of verble injury.
Giving T'lar his nastiest, most unimpressed look, Sh'drian notes sarcastically, "And what would you like to play, rider? Dolls, perhaps? Make-believe? Because there are quite a number of weyrbrats out there I can draft to entertain you." He then turns to glower moreso at Karyn, never mind he's probably not helping any more now than earlier. "Watch your mouth, brat," he snaps.
T'lar says, "Well, you aren entitled to that opinion, Weyrling. I just hope that you are never in my wing in that case." He suddenly has his arms full of a young crying girl and doesn't have a /clue/ what he should do about it. He carefully sets down his Klah so as to not spill any and patts Karyn's back. "there there now ... " He pointedly ignores Shad but softly says to Karyn, "just ignore the mean old idiots. They don't have a clue as to what they are talking about.""
D'mer's chin drifts to the palm of one hand, supported by an elbow propped up on the table before him. Casually his gaze lifts to fall like snowflakes drifting down upon T'lar, his still pretty aqua eyes chillingly distant. "Yes sir." he replies simply, not in the least bothered apparently by Karyn's state or her attempt to hurt his feelings. That is if he has any. Anything else is left unsaid as the weyrling's lips seal once more leaving him silent again.
Karyn shrinks further away from Sh'drian as he snaps at her, crying even more. She simply doesn't know what to do, around such mean people. All she wanted was to have her toys back, and now this, what ever is a little girl to do?
"Whose wing, T'lar?" Sh'drian asks dangerously. "Shava's wing, isn't it?" He doesn't look at the other bronzerider, however, instead focusing on Karyn again. He doesn't know what to do with the girl, any more than she knows what to make of him, so he just stops and stares, blinking.
T'lar says, "well, its her Wing in as far as she is the Wingleader, but still my wing in the aspect that i'm a member of it. Anyone with the intellegence of a wher...." his voice trails off as he turns his attention back to Karyn trying to sooth her tortued soul."
One might say that D'mer looks rather bored at all this, that is if the greenrider had an expression at all. As quiet as he is presently, and with nothing to add worth saying, he just slides his dulled blue-green eyes between one bronzerider, then the other before finally slipping to Karyn. Once a cycle is completely, he starts all over again.
Karyn's crying has settled down to sobs between breaths. She has nothing else to say on the matter, and is now incredibly tired from the ordeal. Sniff sniff poor little Karyn.
Sh'drian prompts T'lar innocuously, "Of a what?" He levels a glance at the man, then stands. "Say it. I really don't care what you think of me, T'lar. You're not important enough to bother with. But if you'd like to remain in a wing, and not find yourself playing watchrider for that obscure little mining camp down south of here, you might want to watch your mouth. I /am/ important." Done channeling his own former wingleader Kayjay, he turns and stalks out.