[Log] The Pea Whisperer
Who: Gerand, Gustive, L'han, Riadur
When: Unknown
Where: Living Cavern, Telgar Weyr
What: L'han scares Riadur, and Gerand and Gustive bully him into taking a sip of alcohol.
Notes: Beginning of log lost in computer crash.
Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern
This huge cavern is sufficiently roomy to hold a large portion of the Weyr's population without feeling cramped. There's always a bustle of activity here. Fragrant dishes are constantly in prepartion for mealtimes: currently for the evening meal. Drudges are always present, either cleaning under Pierron's watchful eye, or helping fetch and carry. A myriad of glowbaskets and many ever-lit hearths make the cavern warm and inviting despite its size. The scents of cooking meats, baking breads and pastries, and the pungent aroma of spices hang mouthwateringly in the air. It is little wonder that those seeking to relax nearly always find their way here to do it. Dark summer blooms of vivid hue decorate the tables.
A short tunnel jaunts northward out to the bowl and the merry sounds of cooking, chores, and laughter echo from the kitchen at the southeast end of the cavern near the easterly passage to the rest of the lower caverns. Within the lower caverns is an entrance to the infirmary weyr to care for injured dragons and riders.
Contents:
PLAYERS: Gustive Gerand Riadur Pierron L'han
OTHER: Telgar Serving Tables
Obvious Exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
Gustive grimaces and pushes the ale at Gerand. "Lucky you. I think I'm jealous of Harper Apprenctices." Noting Riadur's expression he waves it off. "No worries, I'll get used to all these rules eventually." Watching the rider eat the onion he screws up his face. "Is it good like that?"
L'han looks even more adorable with tiny droplets of onion juice clinging to his beard. Don't he? He do! "Like what?" Munchy crunchy crunch. He points the knife blade in the Candidate's direction, but is quickly distracted by the shininess of it. Ooh.
Gerand reaches out and grasps the mug of ale, taking a deep swig of it before he looks - finally - a little relaxed, "Well, now that that's settled... I guess I wait a while? I don't want to go back without delivering this stuff... It's urgent or something, I dunno." he shrugs a bit, looking between the two candidates and the rider. "At least I'm away from the Hall, first time I have been in many a week."
Riadur gives Gustive a small, encouraged smile. He's not looking at L'han anymore, after a first glimpse of him chowing down on that onion. Gerand becomes the focus of his attention. "How long have you been a harper?" inquires Riadur, shifting uncomfortably.
Gustive grins and watches the rider munch on the onion, one of the most interesting things he's seen since he's been here. Talking to Gerand, but not looking away from the odd spectacle before him he chuckles. "I'm stuck here and I can't drink and I've had to do kitchen duty. This is not nearly as glamorous as I thought it would be. Do you know him."
L'han very carefully places the knifepoint into the bench right beside his leg. For safekeeping. His eyes turn to stare at Gerand. All the popular kids are doing it. Doesn't say much for Gustive, there, DOES IT. Cannot trust a man who cannot drink a beer.
Gerand lets his gaze shift a little from person to the next, before focusing on Riadur with a smile, "I've been there just a few weeks now, still a novice though they should be promoting me to a full Apprentice if they want to keep me, any time now.." he looks a little bit uncertain of this fact for a few moments, perhaps slightly worried. He looks back over to Gus and shakes his head, "Can't say I know anyone here but you and Cruor." he grins wryly. He takes another swig of the ale, larger than the first.
Riadur glances down at the bench when L'han slides the knife into it. Riadur blinks and shifts over that much more, to give the knife and the rider wielding it a wider berth. "Really, it's not so bad. We'd have to do chores anyway, and as for drinking, well--I didn't, anyway." He shrugs, glancing downward. Gerand receives a faint nod when he answers the question.
Noting Riadur's sketchyness towards the rider he gives him a comforting clout on the back. "Hoi, now Riadur, it looks like you *need* a stout drink. Maybe we should break the rules a bit. I don't think I'd mind the extra kitchen duty for a good ale, what about you?" Smiling he raises his arm up and hails Pirron over to order a couple more beers and gives Riadur a wink. Cruor opens his eyes at Gustiv'e shoulder moving and gives an imperious squeek.
L'han takes a turn at leaning a bit out from the Candidate. He's torn, now. Admiration for a Pea-Whisperer, or fear of a Non-Drinker? There are landmines at every step. Good thing he left his knife there betwixt them. He offers to Gustive, "Take care no one tries to teach you how to bake the fish."
Gerand drains the last of the mug he'd procured from Gustive before he came to his senses and decided to get another anyhow. He doesn't look too guilty at having deprived his friend of a timelier ingestion of alcohol. He seems a little lost for what to do or say next as he leans up against the table he'd been sitting at until recently, "This place is definitely much different than Ista..." he observes, almost to himself. He glances over toward the slightly-less-strange than before L'han, "You're weird. Nobody at Ista was weird." he simply grins.
Riadur flinches when Gustive pats his back, glancing around at the other candidate with wide blue eyes. "No, we can't," he insists, with a certain air of helplessness. "It's against the rules. I, especially, have gotten into trouble already. The coordinators would be really upset if I did something like that after they let me off so lightly last time." He frowns. L'han's continued eccentricity is passed over for the time being, as is Gerand's.
L'han quirks up an eyebrow at the Harper's proclamation. "Is that your urgent message, boy?" He would belabor the point if Riadur hadn't recaptured his attention like a sparkly bauble. "Trouble? Wha'd you do?" His Wingsecond's knot is right there, imposing its power and authority on the helpless Candidate.
Gustive blinks at L'han. "I hate kitchen duty," he says simply. Pushing the mug over at Riadur the Pierron had delivered he grins. "Blame it on me, but if you don't want it I'm sure Gerand will drink it. Even if he does seem to already be getting a little light in the head." Leaning over to Gerand he gives a slight whisper. "Interesting one, ain't he?" He jerks his head at the rider.
Riadur cringes, shrinking down slightly in the face of L'han's questioning. "I impressed a firelizard, sir," he answers quietly, glancing down to the long-abandoned food once arranged before him. Cutting his eyes back up to Gustive, then to the mug he offers, Riadur hesitates. "We shouldn't," he repeats dubiously, though he sounds less convinced by now. His resolve can't hold up forever.
Gerand holds up his hand at Gus' declaration about the ale, "Hey, I'm away from the Hall and won't look overcome by alcohol for ..." he pauses, and thinks a moment, "At least another four of what I just had. We're not supposed to drink either, but we have... understandings." the young Harper says with a faux-innocent look on his face. He leans in as Gus whispers to him and simply responds with a nod and "Ayep." just above his friend's volume.
L'han begins searching Riadur with his eyes, alert for any contraband firelizards. "Eh? What's wrong with gettin' a 'lizard? I got one when I was a Candidate.." Damn, that's one old 'lizard. Seeing as how Riadur keeps avoiding his gaze, he'll also take a moment to blink at Gustive, being the other candidate available for blinking at.
"We're not supposed to, though, and I did," explains Riadur patiently, glancing briefly back at the rider. He falls silent, though, still eyeing the mugs before him and Gustive warily.
Raising his glass before those present he laughs. "To not getting caught!" He takes a long, slow, enjoyable drink from the mug and sighs, slouching down into his chair. "That would be worth it anyway. Oh come on Riadur, I'll do your extra duty for you. You should enjoy youself once in awhile." Gustive raises his glass again to the Harper. "To drinking when you shouldn't." He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with any excuse to drink more. "To strange people!" He comes up with finally.
Gerand walks over toward the serving area, still looking at every knot he spots on a shoulder as he goes. He pours himself another mug of ale, but doesn't fill it completely. Apparently -he- at least, knows when he should moderate. The Harper's gaze looks back to the small gathering and he smiles somewhat, "To strange people." he raises his mug, having heard a toast to agree to. "Sorry if I'm loitering too much, really." he says with a more serious tone, looking toward the rider among the group. "I'll have to get this all settled within the next hour or so, and head back, I'm sure."
L'han hmmms all thoughtfully at Riadur, stroking a finger along his jawline. "So you're a rebel, is that it?" A new array of expressions dance across his face. In the end he grunts. "It is often that a person's first drink is not all that fun. In the end."
Riadur hesitates, then sighs, giving in to the bullying tactics. Very carefully, he raises one of the mugs to his lips and takes a tiny sip, grimacing at the taste of the liquid within. "Oh, no, sir," he hastens to tell L'han. "The, er, the firelizard was an accident, really. But--" his eyes flicker back to the drink before him. "It's not," he begins to explain, "that I've never tried it before. I just don't care for the taste, or the way it makes people act." A shrug.
L'han is horrified. See this face? Horror! "You...you don't like it?" He swallows heavily and slumps a bit against the table. "I feel woozy.."
Gustive cheers for Riadur. "There you go, but if you don't want to finish it and Harper is going to back out on drinking with Candidate who will surely feel the wrath of this later... then I'll enjoy it. You know, Gerand. You could always tell them you got held up." He winks at the Apprentice.
Gerand says with a slight grimace, but a smile shows through it. "Well, let's see... I'm a mug and.." he takes a long pull off the mug now resting in his hand, "A mug and a third into it, I have class at the end of the day tomorrow, but nothing early, and was told to come here and deliver this package -in- -person- by a Master I hadn't seen often before." he shrugs, "I probably won't be in any trouble, unless someone tries to get me in it."
Riadur gives L'han a worried look, brows furrowing in concern. "Sir? Are you all right?" he asks uncertainly. Pushing the full mug back to Gustive, Riadur says generously, "You can have it, if you like." He glances around at Gerand, but says nothing.
Gustive chuckles at Riadur. "Well, I guess you tried, didn't you." He gently slides the mug over to Gerand with a sneaky look in his eyes. "Now who would get you in trouble?" Cocking his head at the rider he comments, "maybe it was that onion..."
L'han is now frightened by Riadur's expression of concern. "Don't I look all right? What is it? What's wrong with me?" His eyes narrow slightly from their widened state of fear. "What's wrong with my onions? Did you do something to them?"
Gerand crouches down just a little bit as he looks over the seemingly unconscious rider, "Well, I'm not the most popular guy around." he smiles faintly, "A few of the Journeymen are having a time toying with the fate of the apprentice that's older than they are." he hrms at L'han, "No, definitely not the onions. If it was the onions, Riadur'd be the one unconscious from the breath."
Riadur's mouth drops open in surprise, and he hastens to reassure L'han, "No, no, you look fine. Really. Nothing wrong with the, er, onions, either." The rider isn't the only one in near-panic; Riadur's on the edge of it himself. "You just looked--and you said--but I guess--I don't know? I'm sorry." It's the answer to everything, after all. Glancing downward, he shoots a quick helpless look at both of the other young men.
Gustive lays his head down on the table and laughs. Lifting it up he raises his glass to the Harper and drinks again. Any excuse to drink, you know. He once again clouts Riadur on his back. "Maybe wine is more your speed." Waving Pierron over he orders a wine and has it set down in front of the other Candidate. "Maybe the rider here wants another, too?"
L'han smells delicious! Ask anyone. Really! But goodness, where'd they get such a wilting Candidate? Oh, yeah, he said he was from Telgar. Figures. He claps his tablemate on the shoulder. "Which was it that Searched you, hmm? A blue?"
Gerand resumes his seat and says as he looks over toward Gustive, "I know wine's what I drink around the Hall, but for some reason being away from there makes me feel like drinking an ale." he shrugs a little, "But I do need to be careful. I'm just a... well, I guess a guest here. Don't want to upset anyone by being a hassle."
Riadur cringes as someone else now claps him on the shoulder. "Kassima's green Lysseth, actually, sir," he tells L'han without looking at the brownrider. A glance to Gustive, and the candidate shakes his head again. "No, none of that, either, please," he practially begs. Wilting is exactly right.
Gustive cocks his eyebrow at Riadur and pushes the glass of wine over to the rider. "Well then, I guess that's settled. Hoi, Gerand, how's your drink doing?"
L'han adopts an immediate air of consolation. "Poor dear. You'll be marked for life." He looks to Gustive and Gerand for additional support. Their friend is in need.
Gerand looks down at the drink, "Still about a third, and it's fairly good stuff. Made here at the Weyr, is it?" he blinks as he catches a glimpse of a knot in passing, "Shards, Harper!" he stands up and makes sure he has his package, "Gotta run, I just saw him pass through! I'll be back!"
Gerand walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.
Gerand has left.
L'han pats gently at Riadur's shoulder, now, speaking lowly as Gerand escapes. "I'm sure the abrupt departure had nothing to do with your being found by Lysseth." The look he shoots over the boy's head to Gustive say differently, of course.
Riadur glances between L'han and Gustive as his third companion exits so abruptly. "That's... that's a bad thing?" he wonders curiously, frowning slightly. "I mean, what's wrong with her? She's so... nice."
Gustive shrugs. "I've only talked to her rider, she seemed nice enough." Takes another drink and looks at Riadur. "I'm sure the dragon is a fine creature, I've never met one that isn't. You should loosen up, you're as fidgety as a wherry."
L'han's tummy rumbles noticably at the mention. Mmm, wherry. At least it's distracted him. He'll stop patting on Riadur for the while. And suddenly it occurs to him to ask Gustive, "So who are you?"
Riadur flushes, but makes a great effort to still himself. "Sorry," he apologizes to Gustive. "Kassima was very nice; Lysseth, though... Well, she was nice at the end there." He frowns. The sudden shift in L'han's conversation leaves him bewildered, glancing between the pair.
Gustive grins at L'han and pushes the glass of wine towards him again. "I think I may have said before, But I've got a bad memory for that sort of thing. Gustive is my name, from Bitra. And you're a rider of a brown, as much as I can tell of you."
L'han only gives the wine a cursory glance. "I have relatives at Bitra. Not to be trusted, they." Wow, that's a lot of strikes against Gustive. Pity. "At least you have your looks." Which is more than Riadur can say for himself, with all that scowling. He tries to use his fingers to push at Riadur's wrinkled brow. Just to see if he can smooth that out a bit.
Riadur doesn't move, doesn't dare even breathe when L'han touches his forehead. Obediently, though, he relaxes, achieving the desired result. He still seems a bit uncomfortable, though, with things in general. "I, uh, have work," he finally decides. "I should go." As yet, though, he's making no move to leave.
Having lost out on his only drinking partner he sighs and leans on his propped up hand. "Everyone has relatives at Bitra that aren't to be trusted it seems" Turning his head in a lazy manner to regard Riadur he cocks his head even more to the side so that the young man looks to be almost sideways. "Are you going to leave me here with the anonymous rider?"
L'han is pleased by the obedient wrinkles and their attached candidate. He sits back, looking every bit as pleased as he is. "Which chores did you pull?" You know. In case he decides stalking is in order. "Hey, my knife! I wondered where I'd left it."
"I'm sorry," Riadur ventures again. "But really, chores and that sort of thing--enough trouble already--you understand, of course..." He flees without answering L'han.