[Log] Paranoid Much?
Who: Galavon, Ironeph, Vester, Zaeyla
When: Day 6, Month 7, Turn 442
Where: Unused Tunnel, Fort Weyr
What: Some of the candidates slip into the disused interior of the Weyr to enjoy a get-together.
Unused Tunnel
The tunnel widens into a round antechamber of stores, with several doors opening off it. The room has been set up for a party, with a couple of tables that have very basic snack food, and whatever alcohol partygoers were able to make off with - in all likelihood, not much of it. There are glowbaskets sitting on the floor all around the walls to light the dusty room.
Contents:
Zaeyla
Vester
Galavon
Galavon is setting up things on the table. Like a loaf of bread, and some meat, for sandwich rolls. And two half-filled skins with wine. "Someone else better be bringing something to drink," he says, "because this is all I have left over from that Gather."
Vester has arrived.
"Don't look at me," notes Ironeph as he, along with a group of his usual cronies, ambles in. "Nobody told me this was a bring-your-own-drinks affair. Whose idea was this, anyway--yours? S'not too bad," the handyman adds as he glances around.
"Who else arranges for the entertainment around here?" Galavon says, pleased with himself. There's a table with bread and meat for sandwiches, and two partly-filled skins of wine. "It's a pretty poor spread, but about as best as could be gotten under the circumstances. So. I oughtta make you go steal your own," he teases Ironeph. "Just don't drink it all."
Ironeph shrugs. "We'll eat better after the hatching," he remarks, eyeing the spread. "About as good as we ever have now, anyway." A shrug, and he's already moving to make himself a sandwich. "Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about me. Be my luck I'd be falling-down drunk and the eggs'd start hatching." He rolls his eyes as he prepares his lunch.
Vester isn't touching the alcohol right now. "You can have my share, I don't want to be too drunk to dodge a clumsy hatching with thirty odd of them out there." He moves to make himself a sandwich. "They're saying it'll be very, very soon, so..." A pause, and then he confesses, "Anyone *else* horribly nervous?"
"Naw," Galavon says, leaning against the table with his customary confidence and uncorking a wineskin. "It's gonna be fine. Just got to keep your head is all. I mean look who got hurt last time - a girl."
"Mathis' marks are on after dinner," Ironeph tells Vester distractedly, around a first mouthful of sandwich. "And he's always right." To the latter question, there's a chorus of 'shards, no!'s from Ironeph's gang of friends, the handyman loudest of all. "Faranth, kid. Nothing to worry about--leastways, not if you know what you're doing," Ironeph declares. If any of them are nervous, they're certainly not going to admit it to the younger boy. "Anyway," continues Ironeph, with a nod toward Galavon, "he got you there. A girl, and, well. Dunno what Sh'van saw in her in the first place, because--" He doesn't finish; he doesn't have to: the skepticism is written on his face. Of course, only then does he lean around, glancing to make sure Greta's not actually present yet.
Vester shrugs a bit. "Records show plenty of boys get hurt, too. Ya gotta keep your eyes on them and be ready to move quickly. I don't plan on having quite as much dinner as usual." Hence why he's tucking into a sandwich *now*. "Don't want to be slowed down, just in case."
Zaeyla has arrived.
"So if you're all hungry or whatever and faint on the sand, /then/ you won't even be able to duck," Galavon points out, as he takes a swig of wine. He corks the skin again, and sets it back down - even he is more conservative about his drinking, right now. He reaches for some bread and meat to make his own sandwich, since it's going fast.
"Paranoid much?" wonders Ironeph easily, sharing a mocking smirk with Galavon as he continues his meal. He scuffs at the floor, brushing away the dust before he seats himself, grimacing nevertheless. "Shoulda cleaned this place up before you dragged us down here," he complains briefly to Galavon.
"What, by myself?" Galavon says scornfully to Ironeph. "If you want it cleaner, I can go get you a broom or mop or whatever. I wasn't going to get all the food and drink /and/ spend a whole day scrubbing floors." He seems amused by Vester. "Balance, huh? Yeah, I guess that'd be the thing to stop you from falling over."
Vester seems just as amused, and clearly isn't taking this all personally. "Yeah, I guess it would. And I don't plan on falling over, and I certainly don't plan on getting hurt. Just that there's going to be a lot of us out there, so less space to dodge into, so gotta be extra careful."
Galavon reaches over to pat Vester on the head. "Don't worry, we'll try not to trample you."
Drawn by the sound of voices, Zaeyla pads down the tunnel and out into the antechamber. She seems taken aback by what she sees, looking at the tables and then at the people gathered there, not speaking. She takes a slight step back, as if to leave the three men to it.
"You," notes Ironeph to Galavon, smirking, "are a terrible host." He grins then, glancing sideways at Vester. "Mayybe you can, I dunno, hide behind somebody. That one guy they brought in from Harper, maybe--he's fat as, well. Fat. Anyway." He clears his throat, shrugging. When Zaeyla peeks in, he waves distantly, more focused on his sandwich.
Vester laughs, ducking away from the pat, or trying to. Galavon probably manages to touch his hair. "If /that/ one Impresses, he's going to have a miserable weyrlinghood. I wonder if he realizes how much hard work dragons are."
"Bite me, Ironeph," Galavon says. "Like I said, if you want it cleaned that bad, you can do it. I'm not a washerwoman." He catches sight of Zaeyla, and brightens up. "Zay! Hey, come on, get a sandwich!"
Zaeyla doesn't move back any further when Ironeph waves, but she still lingers, not quite entering the room. Her eyes snap on to Galavon at his much brighter greeting and it's with a longing glance at the table that she steps in. "I wondered where you guys had got to," she looks round at them. Her eyes are drawn back to the table. "Where'd you get all *this* from?"
"Hey, take a joke, man," complains Ironeph, eyeing Galavon disdainfully. Vester, too, receives a similar look. "Yeah, and I can't wait to see what M'vari does to you," he snipes back. But, mood shifting from one end of the spectrum to the other, he grins at Zaeyla. "We're having a party, kind of. You gonna join us or just stand in the doorway all day?"
"I have my sources," Galavon says with a pleased grin. "The wine's all I had leftover from the Gather. Nobody else brought any drinks, so. Go easy." He holds his sandwich in his mouth, since there are no plates are napkins, to free his hands to make one for Zaelya. Then he holds it out to her, and tears the sandwich out of his mouth, sans a big bite. "Here you go. It's just too bad I couldn't get a Harper."
Vester snorts a bit. "M'vari gives everyone a hard time. Better that than somebody who's soft on us." He takes a bite of his sandwich, and moves to lean against the tunnel wall...he's apparently not bothered by the dust.
Galavon has disconnected.
"A party?" Zaeyla shakes her head, though her smile betrays her amusement. "Wine as well? You've pulled out all the stops, Galavon." The sandwich takes her by surprise, but she accepts it and smiles. "Thanks. Oh, go for the full works. Some music, dancing." She takes a bite out of the sandwich, looking around at the room and wrinkling her nose at its condition.
"Speaking of," remarks Ironeph, then, gesturing with his sandwich toward Galavon, "d'you hear about that one here, that Tristan?" Rather than explain, though, he turns to Vester. "You're just weird, kid," he concludes. And to Zaeyla: "Dancing? Uh... How about no? Not unless you're going to press him into it?" He gestures to the assortment of guys gathered, including Galavon and Vester.
Vester chuckles. "What, because I'd rather be given a hard time as a weyrling than a soft one? And I think Galavon tried to get a harper, so unless..." He glances around. "Unless we have some people here who can play? I know there's a couple of harper apprentices who got Searched."
Zaeyla chews on her sandwich, wide eyes taking in the room. "Hm?" She looks at Ironeph. "I can't dance at all. 'specially not to no music." She turns her attention to Vester then, shrugging. "Wouldn't music give us away? Are we, uh, even supposed to be here?" She looks guilty, and mollifies herself with another bite of the sandwich.
"They dragged Tristan off to... I dunno where, but somewhere," remarks Ironeph with a shrug. "I dunno any of the apprentices yet--well, by sight, but that's about it." A glance to Zaeyla later, he's shrugging yet again. "S'good to know--don't have to worry about you hitting me up now. They don't say nothing if they don't catch you," he points out. "I come down here sometimes when I'm trying to avoid someone." Or something--aka work.
Vester shrugs a bit. "No. But we're not in anyone's way down here and we didn't raid more than a reasonable lunch, so...I doubt anyone will care as long as we come out later." He grins a bit.
"Tristan?" The name finally triggers something in Zaeyla's mind. "Wasn't he that harper? I don't know what happened to him. He must've left." A nod for Ironeph's comment. "Hitting you up?" She snickers quietly, voice breaking into a little giggle. "I don't come down here." Another look of disgust as she glances around. "It's all dusty and horrid. That's a point," she muses in reply to Vester's statement.
"See, it's nice slipping off here to eat," Ironeph remarks easily. "It's easily to lose people, and you can take all the time you want. If you sit in the living cavern eating, people start giving you dirty looks after the first hour. Here, though? Nope. Though, well. The dust sucks, but I know a few rooms that are cleaner, so..." He trails off with a displeased wrinkle of his nose, continuing his meal.
Vester nods. "I like to take my food out into the bowl sometimes, but the weather isn't always good for that. Never thought of coming down here." A pause. "Hoping not to have time for it soon, though." He winks at Ironeph.
Zaeyla laughs. "Well, it's a bit obvious you're not doing anything if you're sat out in the living cavern," she says, ending the sentence with a snort. "This place'd make a nice hideaway," she adds thoughtfully, giving the room a slow sweeping look. "Clean it up, sneak some chairs and things down here." She lifts a corner of her lips in a semi-smirk at Vester's comment, glancing at Ironeph to see his reaction.
Ironeph rolls his eyes in answer to that wink, though he's smirking amiably enough. "Too many watchers out in the bowl, too," he notes with an airy sandwich-handed gesture. To Zaeyla: "There's some old bedroom-type rooms off some of the halls, from way back turns ago--still have okay furniture, too, some of them, and you can swap pieces out between rooms if you need something."
Vester nods. "True, somebody's dragon spots you sooner or later. Then again, I'm not the type to shirk chores unless they're heaping on me unreasonably." He finishes his sandwich and eyes the remaining fixings with the uncertain air of one trying to work out if he needs another one.
Zaeyla is making rapid work of her sandwich inbetween her contributions to the conversation. She moves to lean against the wall then. "Not to mention all the people around there," she tells Vester. "It's not like you *can't* get noticed." Ironeph gets a tilt of Zaeyla's head. "Huh...I'll have to come explore around here more. I wonder how long it's been since people came far down here?"
"Oh, me, either," agrees Ironeph quickly to Vester--either he's lying or his idea of 'unreasonably' is quite different from the younger boy's. "Turns and turns," is his answer to Zaeyla, however. "Probably since the last Pass."
Vester hrms. "Probably. Weyr doesn't have as many people as it once did, so a lot of space has been abandoned. 'Course, if we keep having clutches that size, then we're going to have to start cleaning this stuff out. More dragons, more riders, more non-riders needed...if the weyr gets bigger, we'll have more people coming here looking for jobs."
"No wonder it's so dusty then," Zaeyla says thoughtfully, slumping against the wall even more and finishing off her sandwich. "Ugh. Cleaning out rooms as dirty as this?" She makes a face at that prospect. "Well, if we Impress, we won't be made to clean. Hopefully."
Ironeph shrugs. "I guess," he hazards in agreement. "But this clutch is gonna pretty well clean us out, I think. Everybody'll be in barracks and then weyrs--even less use for those rooms. You really think people are gonna want to come to /Fort/? I mean, sure, we're the first 'n' best, but still. Such grandeur," he notes, with a mocking gesture at the dusty walls. "Something's gotta change before people are goin' to come here."
Galavon has connected.
Zaeyla rolls her eyes at Ironeph before moving away from the wall, flexing her elbows so that they click. "It feels like everyone's been Searched...." She moves towards the tunnel out, giving the others a little wave of her hand. "I suppose I'll be seeing you later. Out on those sands, I guess." A smile and then she's gone.
Zaeyla has left.
Vester has disconnected.
Galavon returns just in time to wave to Zaeyla as she leaves. "Oh. She's going? Darn, I was hoping she'd - well. Nevermind." He looks around at the people gathered. "So have you guys laid down any bets on the Hatching?"
"Everyone /has/ been searched," Ironeph points out. "All the guys, at least. There's, what, twenty or so of us, I think? That right?" He glances between Galavon and Vester curiously. "And I don't think they've even got ten for the gold. Bets, me? Nah. You do?"
"Eight. Isn't it?" Galavon says.
Thinking hard, Ironeph ticks names off on his fingers. "There's Greta (again), and Samiya. Zaeyla. Yasia. Breide. S'all I can think of. Do we count Vinderis in there?"
Galavon hoots with laughter! "We could, we could. Although between you and me, I dunno if he has what it takes to impress a gold."
"Good point," concedes Ironeph with a smirk. "Though, he's probably as good as anybody else, at this point. Who's your pick?
Galavon thinks. "Maybe that blonde girl Breide? Or Zay. I dunno. Who do you think?"
Ironeph hesitates, perhaps debating his answer, or whether to answer at all. Finally, he shrugs. "My marks are on Breide," he admits. "She's... well. I don't know what kind of weyrwoman she'd make, but she could impress a gold."
"Honestly, I think Zay's the best of the lot. I don't know if the gold would choose her," Galavon says, "but if it did - she's - well. She's not all, you know, /girly/ and stupid."
Ironeph glances toward the door, after Zaeyla's exit. "Maybe," he agrees vaguely. "I dunno. Who knows how they pick?"
"I just hope they don't go and impress fighting dragons. That would just be... I don't understand why the Weyrleader allows that stuff," Galavon says, shaking his head in disgust. "Probably the Weyrwoman just has him whipped, or something. I remember when Riss /hit/ him and he didn't do a single thing about it."
"Faranth, yes," Ironeph is quick to agree. "I bet she does--Raine's tough. I wouldn't mess with her. I mean, it's just not... right. Girls can't do that kind of stuff, you know? That's just the way it is."
"Yeah," Galavon agrees. "They need to just face up to it, and stop trying to act like men. Honestly, I don't know what - oh hey, I was going to tell you. I saw him teaching that one girl. Adria? to go Between, yesterday."
"How'd it go?" wonders Ironeph. Then: "Well, I mean, of course she didn't get killed or anything--I'd've heard about that--but. It's crazy, you know? How'd we even get to this point, s'beyond me."
Galavon shrugs. "I was wondering if she would. It almost seemed like he was - well. She didn't. Then, they landed, and M'vari was all like 'You're done. Practice on your own.' Like, he let her do it supervised once and then... she's just on her own. So maybe he's trying to get rid of them? I don't know if he is doing that with the guys too. But, he was... he wants to get them all graduated I guess. He told her she was completely finished. She didn't have anything else to learn from him."
Ironeph quirks a brow. "How much could M'vari teach somebody, anyway?" he wonders evenly. Shrugging, he adds, "I dunno--I think he's rushing 'em all up like that, you know. Lazy bum, doesn't want to teach them properly, I bet, so he graduates them and sends them off to the wingleaders for teaching. If I was weyrlingmaster? Hmph."
Galavon grins. "If you were weyrlingmaster," he teases. "Getting a little ahead of yourself? Ha. What would you do then? Chuck the girls right out, for a start, that's what I'd do."
Vester has connected.
"They sure wouldn't be in fighting wings," agrees Ironeph. "If I was weyrlingmaster, I'd... do a good job of it. M'vari's an ass, you know?"
Galavon nods in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah, he is. Course we're gonna have to deal with him, so..."
Ironeph smirks. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Ain't worth fighting him about it, you know?" he agrees.
Galavon says "About the girls? or him being an ass?"
"All of it," answers Ironeph, quirking a brow. "He's the weyrlingmaster, right? And we're just poor lowly weyrlings. Or are gonna be, anyway, right?"
Galavon shrugs. "Yeah, although I don't know. Maybe we'll get a new weyrlingmaster. If he's too lazy to properly train fifteen weyrlings, and he got one of them killed anyway, what's he going to do when there's 33? Hell, he'll probably quit the first night."
Vester comes back over to the two, and then, simply. "Why does everyone blame /M'vari/ for that?" It's starting to annoy him.
Glancing around at Vester rather than responding to Galavon, Ironeph hazards, "Because it's his fault?"
Galavon just rolls his eyes at Vester.
Ironeph turns back to Galavon. "Anyway, yeah, I wouldn't be /too/ surprised if he did," he notes. "At the least, he's going to drink himself under a table somewhere. You just /know/ he was doing it during the clutching, when Fedayth just kept popping 'em out."
Vester shakes his head. "Ain't his *fault*, it's his *responsibility*. There's a difference. And on the off chance that I do Impress today...he's gonna give me a hard enough time if I /do/ get in the habit of showing him respect. Whether he's earned it or not."
Galavon laughs at Ironeph's comment. "Yeah, no kidding, he... oh, seriously, Vester, come off it. It's the same thing. And he's not going to give you any harder time than he gives anyone."
"Speak for yourself," Ironeph notes cheerfully. "I'm going to start sucking up like nobody's business. We're kindred spirits, M'vari and I." Nevermind all that criticism from earlier.
Vester snorts. "He thinks I'm a wuss because I work in the infirmary, which he thinks is women's work for some reason...plus. The hard time he gives everyone is *quite* hard enough."
"Cause it is?" Galavon teases Vester. "At least you had a real job before that, right?"
Ironeph just grins at that, quirking his brows curiously as he glances between the pair.
Vester snorts. "Bet the Master Healer would disagree with you. Just 'cause there are women healers...and there have to be, there are some things a woman just needs to talk to a woman about...don't make it women's work." He sounds more amused than anything else, though.
Galavon shrugs. "Dunno, I'm just glad I don't have to talk to any women about that stuff."
Ironeph smirks, nodding. "Me, too," he agrees simply.
Vester laughs. "Me too. Always get a woman to do it." He shrugs, leaning back against the wall. "Besides. Frankly, X'drian didn't exactly give me the choice about the assignment. And it's more interesting than being a stablehand."
Galavon looks at Vester with interest. "X'drian gave you that job?"
That catches Ironeph's attention. Leaning foreward, he regards Vester curiously, though he lets Galavon do the talking.
Vester nods. "Yeah, he did. During the embargo, when we didn't have any real healers, and then Quinley showed up. She needed help, and had no apprentices to help her. So..."
"Huh," says Ironeph. "I guess that makes sense." But he directs a frown briefly at Galavon, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Anyway, I got to run. See y'all later," he tells the group as he stands, dusting himself meticulously off before exiting.