LOG: I'm a Reformed Man
Date: Day 11, Month 11, Turn 17
Location: Orchards, Nabol Hold
Synopsis: High Reachians pick apples.
Orchards, Nabol Hold(#1216RJ)
Situated near the main Hold, down a gentle slope in an insulated valley lies Nabol's vast fruit orchards. Apple trees dominate the landscape, though sections, delineated by sturdy wooden fences, are portioned out for plums, peaches, cherries, and pears. Dark, fertilized earth is well tended and cared for beneath the trees, while the free space of grassy knolls roll downward into the orchards. In the distance is an apple refinery, where overripe fruits are sent to be pressed into ciders, both hard and not.
The apple harvest is in full swing, large baskets placed at intervals along the fences and throughout the acres of apple trees. Carts line the entrance to the apple orchards, some meant to travel up to the refinery, while others return to the main hold. The colors in the orchard are changing from green to the warmth of autumnal reds, oranges, and gold.
Contents:
Milani
Obvious exits:
Nabol Hold
Afternoon sunlight slants down through the orchard and everywhere the shapes of people, adult and child alike, bending to pick up fallen apples can be seen. There's music playing in the distance back near the hold and the Gather square and the scents of wonderful things cooking, flavored with the sweetness of apples and the pungency of spices. Among the Weyrfolk collecting is Milani, skirts hiked up as she laughingly picks up a ruddy fruit and flicks bugs off one side of what is otherwise whole. Many riders and candidates are here too, wandering to and fro with baskets and other containers or using skirts to hold the bounty from the ground.
Kasadel is among the collectors, too, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a sheen of sweat visible on his brow - he's got a large tub in tow, swinging it easily in one hand, because, at this moment, it's quite empty. He sets it down, ending up not far from Milani, immediately crouching to inspect the apples on the ground about him. Looking up, his attention is caught by a younger boy, maybe ten or twelve turns old, biting greedily into one of the fallen fruits - "Can't just eat /all/ of them, Bennin," he teases, his voice carrying easily. The child blushes.
Milani looks over her shoulder as Kasadel speaks and grins at Bennin. "He's right, eat too many of 'em and you'll make yourself sick. I mean, these haven't even been /washed/." Her mouth purses up as she flicks another insect off the fruit she's holding then she nods towards Kasadel. "Here, let me put this one in there?"
Bennin glances between Milani and Kasadel, cheeks still pink, but defiantly takes another bite anyway - completely failing to notice the bugs still present upon his treat. He makes a face, spitting out bug and apple all at once, and hurriedly gets back to work. Kasadel laughs at the boy's misfortune, but easily, grinning at him. "Sure," he adds, offering his tub towards Milani, "Toss 'em in. Going to be sick of apples pretty soon, aren't we."
Luttrell with his basket walks up the line a short distance from Kasadel. The candidate is focused on the task at hand. Picking up one apple that had a big bite out of it. "Hey, someone is half eating perfectly good apples here." He says standing up just in time to see Bennin and his misfortune with an apple. A headshake and tossing the apple away, Luttrell goes back to picking up what apples he can.
Milani's head ducks, trying to mask her own laughter and mouthful-of-bug then puts the one in her hand into Kasadel's tub. "Maybe not if the cooks stretch out the offerings well enough," the assistant headwoman counters and hunkers down to pick up a few more fruits, checking them over. One is mostly sound but with a bruised patch. This she keeps, another that's mostly bug-eaten she leaves behind. Luttrell's remark lifts her head and she holds up the bug-damaged one. "Either the insects or our friend Bennin there," she notes and reaches for another ruddy orb.
There's no basket with Oysric, nope. The stablehand seems to have forsaken the use of a basket to use a bag instead. In addition to the half-full bag of apples, Oys also has one apple each in his hands. Although, one of them appears to be in the state of being currently eaten. He tosses the other one up in the air and catches it. He doesn't look particularly motivated at the moment, simply walking around idly.
"Suppose so," says Kasadel, though his nose wrinkles good naturedly as he says so, adding another apple to the tub after inspecting it carefully. "Not really a huge fan of apples to begin with, though. So. -- Ah, Bennin, how many /have/ you started?" He adds, calling out towards the boy again, who flushes more furiously than ever. "Guess that's our answer. Looks more like toothmarks than," he bobs his head towards Milani's bug damaged apple, "That."
Luttrell shrugs slightly as he glances Milani's way. "I figured as much." he offers grabbing an apple in seemingly good condition. Another one is abandend for bug bites and bruises. "Seems he's gotten to quite a few." Luttrell adds spotting one the boy dropped earlier. Another apple, bug free, with just a few slight bruises is dropped into his basket.
"Waste not, want not," Milani tells Bennin with a little shake of her head. "Not fond of apples? Really? How about things made from apples, like cider and apple sauce and so on?" She looks back over towards Luttrell as she builds up a handful of four usable apples. "It does at that, she agrees and directs a little frown at Bennin.
Sunniva really has been here the whole time, honest. She's just been unobtrusive and in the background, methodically picking up apples and discarding them just as quickly; her basket isn't terribly full, but she's got rather discriminating taste. She's fairly focused on the task, with a distant expression on her face and her mouth set in a flat line. This one? No. That? No. Toss, toss, toss.
"I'm /hungry/," complains Bennin, "And they had bugs in them. When do we get to eat, anyway?" Kasadel laughs at the boy, winking at him, and shrugs his shoulders as he answers Milani. "Not a big fan of any of that, either, really, to be honest. Not unless you use heaps and heaps of spice, to drown out the apple taste - then they're okay."
Oysric walks onward, calling out, "I /like/ applesauce." And apparently that's all he's contributing for the moment. He does, however, take a moment to grin at Luttrell, nodding in acknowledgement of the lanky teen. And with that, he ambles onward, picking up another apple and throwing it in the sack. He nods to Milani as well, chuckling under his breath at the antics of Benin.
"As soon as you've filled up enough baskets," Milani informs Bennin pointedly, "if you keep eating good ones, that's one less in each basket and it's that much longer until we get to go eat all that lovely smelling stuff over at the Gather square," she continues and blinks at Kasadel in surprise. "Wow. Well that's a shame, and hopefully some of the stuff at the Baker stalls /won't/ have apples in it. Wouldn't be fair to do all this work and not get to eat because you don't like apple." And there's Oys. "Hey Oysric!" she greets him merrily.
Luttrell flicks off a bug that has quickly transfered from the apple to his arm. "Did you grow up eating them all the time?" He asks looking toward Kasadel. Oysric gets a wave just then and Luttrell bends after another apple and quickly tosses it away in fovor of one with less bite marks. "You finding any good ones Sunniva?" He asks noticing how quickly she is discarding the apples.
Bennin's lips purse sourly, and for a moment it looks as though he intends to argue, but he lowers his head, sighing, and nods. "I'll be good. Promise, Milani!" Shrugging Kasadel tells Milani, cheerfully, "It's not like I hate 'em, so if it's apple in everything, I'll be fine. Just would rather eat a - a peach, or a pear - than an apple." He glances up to note Oysric, with a shift of the head, while telling Luttrell, "No, not really. Just never was fond of 'em."
Sunniva blinks owlishly and looks up when she hears her name, a surprised, "Oh! Luttrell, hello," escaping her. She glances back at the apples left in her wake; a few of them were discarded for obvious reasons, but a few are still quite good. Just ... not good enough. Her basket is offered to the other candidate to look at, though she explains, "I found a few, but some are too dreadfully damaged or- or just /disgusting/. How many have you found?"
Luttrell glances into his basket at Sunniva's question. "Quite a few." He offers tilting the little more then half full basket for her too see. "Be glad when we can enjoy some of these." He adds picking up another apple with a large bite in the underside. "I think someone else got this one. That bite looks a little too big for Bennin there." He chuckles tossing the apple over his shoulder and continuing his search for another.
"Hey there yourself, Milani," the stablehand calls out gruffly. Oysric's eyes flicker downward, lowering his hand to pick up another apple before placing it back down on the ground. To Kasadel, Oys smirks and moves on, grabbing one more apple that actually looks better than the previous. "Applesauce is pretty good with chops, too." He looks back toward the candidates the back to Milani, brows arching curiously at the assistant headwoman. "They been much of a hassle?" he asks Hayda's assistant about the candidates, actually grinning at her.
One finger wags Bennin's way. "Better be," she warns the young lad, though there's just enough teasing in her voice to show she's not being super strict with him. "I think there's pear things too," she notes for Kasadel's remark, straightening to put the apples she's collected in his tub. "I think they have a whole pig roasting," she tells Oysric with a lopsided grin then shakes her head about the Candidates. "So far, so mostly good."
Kasadel reaches down to grab another apple to inspect, and adds it to the tub, apparently not too concerned about bruising - this one is a very different shade than it probably was upon the tree. "Than I'll do just fine," he tells Milani, clearly pleased. "Hey - " he adds, voice raising as Oysric questions the Assistant Headwoman. "We've been very good, thank you very much. /Bennin/ is the one who's been eating all the apples, not us."
Sunniva looks mildly horrified, actually blurting, "Who on Pern would take a bite out of an apple that had not been washed first?" Ew, shudder. The contents of Luttrell's basket are glanced at and given an approving nod, though she does extend a hand as if to take an apple -- likely to toss -- before she forces herself to withdraw it. "You must have been lucky to find so many decent ones," and never mind that the 'decent' is a bit strained.
Oysric looks to Milani curiously, grinning again. It's brief, but there. "A whole pig roasting sounds like my kind of meal," he offers. He glances back to Kasadel in amusement, asking him: "I might be able to believe that from any other candidate, Kasadel, but you?" His brows raise in expectation before chuckling suddenly. He lets the question hold for a couple beats before finally relinquishing it with an earnest: "Congratulations on getting Searched, Kasadel." He smirks once back to Sunniva at hearing her own question. He replies back with one of his own: "I have lunch with the runners, does that make me a bad person?"
Luttrell watching Sunniva extend her hand tilts his basket back up. He's not gonna let her toss away any of his hard foraged for apples. "Yeah. Hey look at that one." He says jokingly as he walks over and picks up an apple she abandend and drops it in his basket. A frown toward Oysric for his comment, but Luttrell doesn't say anything of it. Actually he's unintentionally retracing Sunniva's steps now.
"Well there's been the homesick crying from some," Milani points out, "and some confusion over things, but no pranks or bad falls, a few little bumps and scrapes, otherwise, smooth sailing," she elaborates and ducks her head a little at Sunniva's exclamations, masking the likely fit of giggles. When she looks up again it's to say: "I agree about the washing. Better to wait until most of these have gone through the sinks. So many /bugs/."
"Oh, but that one-" Sunniva makes a face when Luttrell picks up an apple she'd discarded of, voicing the rest of the thought in a sigh. She starts to move, then stops again upon hearing the question; she half-turns to seek out the source. "It does not make you a bad person, no," Sunniva calls back to Oysric, forehead creasing just a little. Puzzled. That puzzlement fades a little when Milani speaks and she nods, fervently. "/Exactly/. They are just so- so /filthy/."
Kasadel straightens his back, giving Oysric a long look as though he's inclined to be offended - and then he breaks into a grin. "I'm a reformed man, Oysric. All work, no girls, very well behaved. Really boring. Thanks, though." He sounds - not proud, just satisfied, as though this whole thing was always in the plan. ""m not afraid of any dirt," he adds, to the group at large, shrugging. "Natural, really. All of it. Just dirt."
Filthy, what? Doesn't bother Tiriana, who's juggling two apples into one hand so she can use the free hand to take the one she has in her teeth then. With a bite out of it, she wanders the crops, not so much working just now; the sweat she's worked up, though, testifies to recent exertion as she now cuts across the orchards at a lazy pace that eventually nears Milani and company. "Bugs?" says the goldrider, although it's distorted around the mouthful of apple. Now she eyes the ones she's collected with a frown like that didn't occur to her earlier.
Oysric almost looks ready to pick up an apple and start eating it right in front of Sunniva. But he instead nudges a rather damaged apple out of the way and continues on. Toward Milani, Oysric merely nods to her again. "Homesickness, I can understand," he replies. The stablehand can only chuckle aloud at Kasadel's reaction, nodding once before grinning back at him, replying: "I'll believe it when I see it, Kasadel." He continues eating that one apple in his left. No washing for him either. He glances toward Tiriana with a smirk before replying, "I heard once that if you eat a bug, it would fester inside your body and grow -really- long." Now he really does take a bite in front of someone, it's a rather satisfying sound of the stablehand taking the last bite into the apple he's had with him.
"All work, no girls," Milani asks Kasadel with a bright laugh. " That /does/ sound boring," she notes to the candidate with a wink then looks up at Tiriana's arrival. "You know, eating the stuff," and she holds up an example, worms this time, crawling in a greenish apple and she doesn't even bother to flick them off, just tosses the fruit off towards the pile where she's been putting other cast-offs. Oysric earns an eye-roll. "Oh please, everyone knows that's not true."
"No kidding," Kasadel tells Milani mournfully, his head shaking for emphasis. "Working right now, Oysric," he points out to the Stablehand, and indeed, he is still working on filling his basket. "And no girls on my lap, or doing naughty things with me - not even eyeing any up!" Aside from Tiriana, whose approach draws his glance, but, really, only for a few moments, and with mostly disinterest. "Did your Mummy tell you that, to make you stop eating insects?" he adds to Oysric, expression wicked.
"Lies," Tiriana agrees, and this seems to make up her mind for her as she very deliberately takes another bite of her apple. The other couple, she gives another look for a minute before she gives up looking for a pocket to stuff them in and just holds onto them. They do not make it onto the pile for the Weyr's reserves just now. "Were there ever any of them eyeing you up?" she then misunderstands Kasadel, arguably on purpose, as she glances at Oysric and Milani as if to ask if they've ever seen proof of as much.
High above the orchards, dragons come and go: this time Vrianth's among the reinforcements, blinking into existence along with a mix of other Snowstrike dragons and a lone Boreal green, descending wingtip to wingtip with the latter until at last they land upon one of the clearer knolls and start offloading passengers. Which wouldn't take as long if they weren't all talking half the time.
"I'll give you that one, Kasadel," Oysric replies back to Kas, grinning back at him. "It's one thing to do it one day, but what about the other six?" The stablehand moves onward and stops once at Kasadel's last remark, making him laugh. "Funny guy," he mutters. And then, at Tiriana's question, Oys laughs once more. The arrival of the other dragons, Vrianth included, makes him pause, but then he's back to looking for more apples again.
"You'd better believe it, sweetheart," Kasadel tells Tiriana, unconcerned by her misunderstanding, deliberate or no. "It's been trying, actually, having to tell them all that no, my warm embrace is off limits for a while. Poor things." To Oysric, he shrugs, unconcerned, adding in, "You'll just have to take my word for it, or maybe seek me out more often." He adds a few more apples to his basket, not really terribly choosy as long as they're not /too/ bug-eaten. Or Bennin-bitten.
Tiriana, snickering too hard, can't quite work up more than an ineffectual glare at Kasadel for the term 'sweetheart.' "Oh, please. 'Warm embrace,' who /says/ stuff like that." Besides Kasadel, obviously. Tiriana settles for shaking her head and taking another bite, then finally tossing her extra apples into his basket and flexing her hand when it's finally loose of the awkward handful.
Eventually the newest batch of reinforcements shows up, mostly a scrawny lot with a tendency to shirk, but at least they're carrying some spare sacks so they can't use the excuse of baskets running short. Though most of the dragons are already departing, Vrianth's still waiting as her rider plays shepherd, the short-straw designee to get the "helpers" over to the main group to actually "help." The only time when Leova stops them is when they reach the first wave of current workers, the greenrider scanning the people and trees and more tricky trees before calling, "Oys! Millie about?"
Oysric listens to Kasadel's retort to Tiriana and rolls his eyes. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, Kas," he tells the candidate. "Ever got kicked by her before?" He glances toward the goldrider in amusement before returning to his apple-picking. The stablehand's snickering, however, can clearly be heard at Tiriana's reaction to Kas. But soon his snickering comes to an abrupt halt as he hears the greenrider's voice. He thumbs to the group behind him, telling Leova: "She shouldn't be too far behind me. With the candidates."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," ripostes Kasadel, missing the point somewhat, but apparently not caring particularly much. "Though not until I'm no longer a candidate. Or a weyrling." He seems confident of this latter bit, not lingering over the words, just carrying on with what he's doing. "Been pushed off a cliff by her, I think I can manage," he notes to Oysric, cheerfully.
Milani looks between Kasadel and Oysrice, brows up and just shakes her head, picks up another apple, then looks along the rows of trees towards where dragons land, Vrianth among them and grins. "Here we go," she says lightly and puts that apple in Kasadel's tub. "I think hanging out and flirting are just fine, by the by, but you know, nothing that would lead to babies, because babies and baby dragons just don't /work/ together."
"I haven't kicked anybody in a while," Tiriana asserts, with a superior look down at Oysric. "A few months, at least." Beat. "Did that, though," is added after a moment, with a smirk and a falsely modest glance down and sideways at Kasadel. "How'd that work out, anyway? With that girl."
"Candidates. Check. Thanks, Oys," and Leova scans a second time, eyes narrowed against the slant of the sun. This time, her gaze runs into one of the people talking to the stablehand nearly right away, and if what's head-height on a good chunk of people is only shoulder-height on him, well, how convenient is that for spotting his candidate's knot? So she gives Kasadel's shoulder a nod without bothering to look higher, whistles at her crowd and takes a few steps forward... and past the lanky teen, lo-and-behold there's her not-much-shorter prize. Even more convenient! "Shoo," she tells her collective sack-carrying entourage. "Ask /her/ where to go." Milani gets a smile that doesn't even pretend at being sorry.
"Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple.
Kasadel fastens his smile upon Milani, nodding quickly: "No babies, and that's a promise. No intention of being a dad, anyway. Not for a few turns, yet. Worked out just fine, thank you, Tiriana," he adds in, turning towards the goldrider with a positive beam. "Though I nearly lost-- well. Something precious." Snorting at Oysric, he ducks his head back to his work. See: industrious!
Oysric says, "Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple."
Come down from the main hold, his shirtsleeves rolled up and a crate stamped "cider" held between both hands, N'thei cuts a distinctive silhouette against the ruddy afternoon light. By himself, a rare thing to see him without F'rint-the-sidekick these days, his strolling steps wind down the path in no particular hurry, approaching the collective apple-pickers with an absent survey of the industry. It's a fleshy woman from the kitchens that enjoins him first, asking with a congested chuckle, "Fine thing as the holders get us down here doin' their chores, idn'it?" Good-natured though, while she tosses another fruit into her basket.
"Faranth forbid," is Tiriana's quick response on Kasadel's potential fatherhood, with a smirk aimed at Milani and him both then for that turn of conversation. That is, until Kasadel earns her full attention again with his answer to her. Eyes narrowing, Tiriana eyes him a moment, then asks, "Something precious."
That group of reinforcements is eyed by Milani and she gestures down the aisles of trees a little ways. "That section hasn't been gone through yet," she tells them with a grin and sweeps a loose strand of hair out of her face, trying to tuck it back into her braid. "Hi Leova! Good to see you feeling better," she says warmly to the greenrider. Kasadel is then eyed sidelong and she laughs outright. "Another good plan." She sniffs the air, the scent of roasting pork getting more intense as the afternoon shades later and the prospect of dinner starts to loom on the horizon.
Leova, upon seeing the herd over to Milani with a, "Thanks," backsteps away from any mention of babies, and if it means answering the stablehand, so much the better. "Not so thrilled," she tells him. "But. Wingleader doesn't want me on sweeps until I'm all the way over this cold, for-sure-this-time, don't-I-dare-sneeze-on-him-or-else." And so she lifts a shoulder: what can you do. "What about you, like the change of pace all right? Seeing as how it's just this once, for now, anyway."
"Full of good plans, I am," Kasadel promises Milani with a grin. Although his eyebrows raise a little at Tiriana's question, he doesn't answer her - his expression is one of 'well, wouldn't you like to know', very self-satisfied. "Is it nearly time to eat? I'm /starving/."
Footsteps slow and deliberate in the sometimes-awkward footing of the tilled earth, L'vae is making his way along an aisle adjacent to the one Milani points along. The basket he holds is mostly full, but he still stops every few strides to bend and inspect an apple - usually adding it to his collection. There's a small knot of riders a ways behind him, but he seems to be roughly heading for the large bin nearest the asistant headwoman's group of candidates.
Oysric nods again at Leova, looking behind him then back to the greenrider, saying, "Didn't know you were sick. Hope you recover quickly, if you haven't already." He chuckles softly as he listens to Kas talk to Tiriana, shaking his head in amusement. Another apple's picked and then Leova's glanced at again, saying, "Pace is fine," Oys explains. "As long as I'm working and the sky's not terribly cloudy at night, I'm happy." Hiram is seen in the distance, making the stablehand sigh. "Excuse me while I go explain to my good friend Hiram how to pick apples properly," he tells Leova. "I wouldn't want him to die. Suffer maybe, but never die." Oysric chuckles softly and he's quickly jogging toward the other stablehand in the distance, sack of apples shaking over his shoulder.
Tiriana's mouth sets into a line at Kasadel's lack of answer, and she glowers at him, too. However, with nose in the air (and a bite of her half-finished apple probably spurred on by Kasadel's question), she turns away from him, toward the rest of the group. "Isn't there supposed to be a /real/ party? They promised me a party, not just--" Working, apparently, as she eyes Oysric moving off to continue that effort.
Leova gives Oysric much the same, "Thanks," as she'd given Milani, with a dour note that speaks of stories that just don't need to be told right now, and a nod after it for the pace, for the skies, and yes, for even Hiram. She looks after him, hesitates, and look: an apple at her feet, brown enough to not even be good for cider, not so brown as to likely squash against her boot toe. So she gives it an idle kick, and watches where it goes.
N'thei, for lack of anything more useful to do, stops at a tree in the middle of the row being worked by Milani and her reinforcements, one that's cultivated an apron of grass already picked clean of fallen fruit. There, nestled against the trunk, he parks the crate of cider and himself next to it, lowers his back down till he sits between two knobby roots. "This isn't a /real/ party?" he questions wryly, peering around the trunk of the tree to watch Tiriana and Kasadel with the mockery of grin; look at the good little boys-and-girls doing chores.
Having been quietly, steadily working on picking up apples and either tossing them behind him or dropping them in his basket as proven effective. Luttrell's basket is full, and nearly overflowing as he drops an apple while carrying the basket to put it with the rest of the full ones. With no more baskets, the candidate gets a sack to begin filling and heads back toward Milani. A nod is given to N'thei as he passes him.
Milani smiles at Leova again and waves as Oysric heads off, then calls another warning out to Bennin. "Oh for the love of little Faranths, Bennin, stop /half-eating/ the apples!" And her last bunch go into the bin and it looks like things are fairly well stocked by now. N'thei's approach and hail bring Millie's hands up onto her hips and she eyeballs the Weyrleader assessingly for a moment. "Looks like you brought us a party in a crate, no? And if that pig is starting to smell like dinner is any time."
Kasadel returns Tiriana's glower magnified into a beaming smile, winking at her saucily, though, like the 'good' candidate he is, he quickly gets back to work, his tub now probably as full as can be easily lifted. "Not 'til we're all partaking," he decides, glancing back up towards N'thei, though his nose wrinkles slightly at the case of cider. "But - that pig," he agrees, echoing Milani. "Smells good. And then it'll be a real party."
An answer to her question, Tiriana expects, but not in that voice that has her head twisting around sharply to find it. her mouth, of course, curves into a definite scowl. Well, when she sees N'thei; not so much when a second later, her eyes settle on the keg of cider. "Well. Maybe," she rethinks too. Her apple's remainder is tossed aside as she gives in for the afternoon, apparently.
Leova follows the apple, gives it another kick, follows it some more. And there's Luttrell and the apple, fallng: she reaches sharply out to scoop it out of the air, spin it in one hand as he moves on, check the thing for extra bruises. A surprise around here, maybe, that there's not: she catches up, reaches to set it in the basket again. His, another's: doesn't much matter.
N'thei's eyes follow Luttrell, hang from the candidate's nod for a second, the bulk of the man's smirk hidden behind the mouth of the bottle he uncorks to sample. The rest of the crate is full, yes, and he answers for it to Milani; "Brought /you/? Love, this is all for me." A dozen bottles, and he's settled down to work his way through the lot of them. "But if someone's industrious enough to bring me food, could be persuaded to make a trade." He raises questioning eyebrows, looks from Kasadel to Tiriana to Milani and back again; someone run along and feed him, go.
"For cider? Ugh. Not I!" says Kasadel, now back to ignoring Tiriana completely, and tugging thoughtfully at his tub of apples. "I think I'll just go carry this one out of here, and get /myself/ some food, thanks all the same." N'thei gets an appraising glance, then a shake of the head, and the lanky candidate heaves the tub into the air, and begins to wander away. It's a little heavy: he staggers, once, then repositions the tub, and seems to manage much better.
Location: Orchards, Nabol Hold
Synopsis: High Reachians pick apples.
Orchards, Nabol Hold(#1216RJ)
Situated near the main Hold, down a gentle slope in an insulated valley lies Nabol's vast fruit orchards. Apple trees dominate the landscape, though sections, delineated by sturdy wooden fences, are portioned out for plums, peaches, cherries, and pears. Dark, fertilized earth is well tended and cared for beneath the trees, while the free space of grassy knolls roll downward into the orchards. In the distance is an apple refinery, where overripe fruits are sent to be pressed into ciders, both hard and not.
The apple harvest is in full swing, large baskets placed at intervals along the fences and throughout the acres of apple trees. Carts line the entrance to the apple orchards, some meant to travel up to the refinery, while others return to the main hold. The colors in the orchard are changing from green to the warmth of autumnal reds, oranges, and gold.
Contents:
Milani
Obvious exits:
Nabol Hold
Afternoon sunlight slants down through the orchard and everywhere the shapes of people, adult and child alike, bending to pick up fallen apples can be seen. There's music playing in the distance back near the hold and the Gather square and the scents of wonderful things cooking, flavored with the sweetness of apples and the pungency of spices. Among the Weyrfolk collecting is Milani, skirts hiked up as she laughingly picks up a ruddy fruit and flicks bugs off one side of what is otherwise whole. Many riders and candidates are here too, wandering to and fro with baskets and other containers or using skirts to hold the bounty from the ground.
Kasadel is among the collectors, too, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a sheen of sweat visible on his brow - he's got a large tub in tow, swinging it easily in one hand, because, at this moment, it's quite empty. He sets it down, ending up not far from Milani, immediately crouching to inspect the apples on the ground about him. Looking up, his attention is caught by a younger boy, maybe ten or twelve turns old, biting greedily into one of the fallen fruits - "Can't just eat /all/ of them, Bennin," he teases, his voice carrying easily. The child blushes.
Milani looks over her shoulder as Kasadel speaks and grins at Bennin. "He's right, eat too many of 'em and you'll make yourself sick. I mean, these haven't even been /washed/." Her mouth purses up as she flicks another insect off the fruit she's holding then she nods towards Kasadel. "Here, let me put this one in there?"
Bennin glances between Milani and Kasadel, cheeks still pink, but defiantly takes another bite anyway - completely failing to notice the bugs still present upon his treat. He makes a face, spitting out bug and apple all at once, and hurriedly gets back to work. Kasadel laughs at the boy's misfortune, but easily, grinning at him. "Sure," he adds, offering his tub towards Milani, "Toss 'em in. Going to be sick of apples pretty soon, aren't we."
Luttrell with his basket walks up the line a short distance from Kasadel. The candidate is focused on the task at hand. Picking up one apple that had a big bite out of it. "Hey, someone is half eating perfectly good apples here." He says standing up just in time to see Bennin and his misfortune with an apple. A headshake and tossing the apple away, Luttrell goes back to picking up what apples he can.
Milani's head ducks, trying to mask her own laughter and mouthful-of-bug then puts the one in her hand into Kasadel's tub. "Maybe not if the cooks stretch out the offerings well enough," the assistant headwoman counters and hunkers down to pick up a few more fruits, checking them over. One is mostly sound but with a bruised patch. This she keeps, another that's mostly bug-eaten she leaves behind. Luttrell's remark lifts her head and she holds up the bug-damaged one. "Either the insects or our friend Bennin there," she notes and reaches for another ruddy orb.
There's no basket with Oysric, nope. The stablehand seems to have forsaken the use of a basket to use a bag instead. In addition to the half-full bag of apples, Oys also has one apple each in his hands. Although, one of them appears to be in the state of being currently eaten. He tosses the other one up in the air and catches it. He doesn't look particularly motivated at the moment, simply walking around idly.
"Suppose so," says Kasadel, though his nose wrinkles good naturedly as he says so, adding another apple to the tub after inspecting it carefully. "Not really a huge fan of apples to begin with, though. So. -- Ah, Bennin, how many /have/ you started?" He adds, calling out towards the boy again, who flushes more furiously than ever. "Guess that's our answer. Looks more like toothmarks than," he bobs his head towards Milani's bug damaged apple, "That."
Luttrell shrugs slightly as he glances Milani's way. "I figured as much." he offers grabbing an apple in seemingly good condition. Another one is abandend for bug bites and bruises. "Seems he's gotten to quite a few." Luttrell adds spotting one the boy dropped earlier. Another apple, bug free, with just a few slight bruises is dropped into his basket.
"Waste not, want not," Milani tells Bennin with a little shake of her head. "Not fond of apples? Really? How about things made from apples, like cider and apple sauce and so on?" She looks back over towards Luttrell as she builds up a handful of four usable apples. "It does at that, she agrees and directs a little frown at Bennin.
Sunniva really has been here the whole time, honest. She's just been unobtrusive and in the background, methodically picking up apples and discarding them just as quickly; her basket isn't terribly full, but she's got rather discriminating taste. She's fairly focused on the task, with a distant expression on her face and her mouth set in a flat line. This one? No. That? No. Toss, toss, toss.
"I'm /hungry/," complains Bennin, "And they had bugs in them. When do we get to eat, anyway?" Kasadel laughs at the boy, winking at him, and shrugs his shoulders as he answers Milani. "Not a big fan of any of that, either, really, to be honest. Not unless you use heaps and heaps of spice, to drown out the apple taste - then they're okay."
Oysric walks onward, calling out, "I /like/ applesauce." And apparently that's all he's contributing for the moment. He does, however, take a moment to grin at Luttrell, nodding in acknowledgement of the lanky teen. And with that, he ambles onward, picking up another apple and throwing it in the sack. He nods to Milani as well, chuckling under his breath at the antics of Benin.
"As soon as you've filled up enough baskets," Milani informs Bennin pointedly, "if you keep eating good ones, that's one less in each basket and it's that much longer until we get to go eat all that lovely smelling stuff over at the Gather square," she continues and blinks at Kasadel in surprise. "Wow. Well that's a shame, and hopefully some of the stuff at the Baker stalls /won't/ have apples in it. Wouldn't be fair to do all this work and not get to eat because you don't like apple." And there's Oys. "Hey Oysric!" she greets him merrily.
Luttrell flicks off a bug that has quickly transfered from the apple to his arm. "Did you grow up eating them all the time?" He asks looking toward Kasadel. Oysric gets a wave just then and Luttrell bends after another apple and quickly tosses it away in fovor of one with less bite marks. "You finding any good ones Sunniva?" He asks noticing how quickly she is discarding the apples.
Bennin's lips purse sourly, and for a moment it looks as though he intends to argue, but he lowers his head, sighing, and nods. "I'll be good. Promise, Milani!" Shrugging Kasadel tells Milani, cheerfully, "It's not like I hate 'em, so if it's apple in everything, I'll be fine. Just would rather eat a - a peach, or a pear - than an apple." He glances up to note Oysric, with a shift of the head, while telling Luttrell, "No, not really. Just never was fond of 'em."
Sunniva blinks owlishly and looks up when she hears her name, a surprised, "Oh! Luttrell, hello," escaping her. She glances back at the apples left in her wake; a few of them were discarded for obvious reasons, but a few are still quite good. Just ... not good enough. Her basket is offered to the other candidate to look at, though she explains, "I found a few, but some are too dreadfully damaged or- or just /disgusting/. How many have you found?"
Luttrell glances into his basket at Sunniva's question. "Quite a few." He offers tilting the little more then half full basket for her too see. "Be glad when we can enjoy some of these." He adds picking up another apple with a large bite in the underside. "I think someone else got this one. That bite looks a little too big for Bennin there." He chuckles tossing the apple over his shoulder and continuing his search for another.
"Hey there yourself, Milani," the stablehand calls out gruffly. Oysric's eyes flicker downward, lowering his hand to pick up another apple before placing it back down on the ground. To Kasadel, Oys smirks and moves on, grabbing one more apple that actually looks better than the previous. "Applesauce is pretty good with chops, too." He looks back toward the candidates the back to Milani, brows arching curiously at the assistant headwoman. "They been much of a hassle?" he asks Hayda's assistant about the candidates, actually grinning at her.
One finger wags Bennin's way. "Better be," she warns the young lad, though there's just enough teasing in her voice to show she's not being super strict with him. "I think there's pear things too," she notes for Kasadel's remark, straightening to put the apples she's collected in his tub. "I think they have a whole pig roasting," she tells Oysric with a lopsided grin then shakes her head about the Candidates. "So far, so mostly good."
Kasadel reaches down to grab another apple to inspect, and adds it to the tub, apparently not too concerned about bruising - this one is a very different shade than it probably was upon the tree. "Than I'll do just fine," he tells Milani, clearly pleased. "Hey - " he adds, voice raising as Oysric questions the Assistant Headwoman. "We've been very good, thank you very much. /Bennin/ is the one who's been eating all the apples, not us."
Sunniva looks mildly horrified, actually blurting, "Who on Pern would take a bite out of an apple that had not been washed first?" Ew, shudder. The contents of Luttrell's basket are glanced at and given an approving nod, though she does extend a hand as if to take an apple -- likely to toss -- before she forces herself to withdraw it. "You must have been lucky to find so many decent ones," and never mind that the 'decent' is a bit strained.
Oysric looks to Milani curiously, grinning again. It's brief, but there. "A whole pig roasting sounds like my kind of meal," he offers. He glances back to Kasadel in amusement, asking him: "I might be able to believe that from any other candidate, Kasadel, but you?" His brows raise in expectation before chuckling suddenly. He lets the question hold for a couple beats before finally relinquishing it with an earnest: "Congratulations on getting Searched, Kasadel." He smirks once back to Sunniva at hearing her own question. He replies back with one of his own: "I have lunch with the runners, does that make me a bad person?"
Luttrell watching Sunniva extend her hand tilts his basket back up. He's not gonna let her toss away any of his hard foraged for apples. "Yeah. Hey look at that one." He says jokingly as he walks over and picks up an apple she abandend and drops it in his basket. A frown toward Oysric for his comment, but Luttrell doesn't say anything of it. Actually he's unintentionally retracing Sunniva's steps now.
"Well there's been the homesick crying from some," Milani points out, "and some confusion over things, but no pranks or bad falls, a few little bumps and scrapes, otherwise, smooth sailing," she elaborates and ducks her head a little at Sunniva's exclamations, masking the likely fit of giggles. When she looks up again it's to say: "I agree about the washing. Better to wait until most of these have gone through the sinks. So many /bugs/."
"Oh, but that one-" Sunniva makes a face when Luttrell picks up an apple she'd discarded of, voicing the rest of the thought in a sigh. She starts to move, then stops again upon hearing the question; she half-turns to seek out the source. "It does not make you a bad person, no," Sunniva calls back to Oysric, forehead creasing just a little. Puzzled. That puzzlement fades a little when Milani speaks and she nods, fervently. "/Exactly/. They are just so- so /filthy/."
Kasadel straightens his back, giving Oysric a long look as though he's inclined to be offended - and then he breaks into a grin. "I'm a reformed man, Oysric. All work, no girls, very well behaved. Really boring. Thanks, though." He sounds - not proud, just satisfied, as though this whole thing was always in the plan. ""m not afraid of any dirt," he adds, to the group at large, shrugging. "Natural, really. All of it. Just dirt."
Filthy, what? Doesn't bother Tiriana, who's juggling two apples into one hand so she can use the free hand to take the one she has in her teeth then. With a bite out of it, she wanders the crops, not so much working just now; the sweat she's worked up, though, testifies to recent exertion as she now cuts across the orchards at a lazy pace that eventually nears Milani and company. "Bugs?" says the goldrider, although it's distorted around the mouthful of apple. Now she eyes the ones she's collected with a frown like that didn't occur to her earlier.
Oysric almost looks ready to pick up an apple and start eating it right in front of Sunniva. But he instead nudges a rather damaged apple out of the way and continues on. Toward Milani, Oysric merely nods to her again. "Homesickness, I can understand," he replies. The stablehand can only chuckle aloud at Kasadel's reaction, nodding once before grinning back at him, replying: "I'll believe it when I see it, Kasadel." He continues eating that one apple in his left. No washing for him either. He glances toward Tiriana with a smirk before replying, "I heard once that if you eat a bug, it would fester inside your body and grow -really- long." Now he really does take a bite in front of someone, it's a rather satisfying sound of the stablehand taking the last bite into the apple he's had with him.
"All work, no girls," Milani asks Kasadel with a bright laugh. " That /does/ sound boring," she notes to the candidate with a wink then looks up at Tiriana's arrival. "You know, eating the stuff," and she holds up an example, worms this time, crawling in a greenish apple and she doesn't even bother to flick them off, just tosses the fruit off towards the pile where she's been putting other cast-offs. Oysric earns an eye-roll. "Oh please, everyone knows that's not true."
"No kidding," Kasadel tells Milani mournfully, his head shaking for emphasis. "Working right now, Oysric," he points out to the Stablehand, and indeed, he is still working on filling his basket. "And no girls on my lap, or doing naughty things with me - not even eyeing any up!" Aside from Tiriana, whose approach draws his glance, but, really, only for a few moments, and with mostly disinterest. "Did your Mummy tell you that, to make you stop eating insects?" he adds to Oysric, expression wicked.
"Lies," Tiriana agrees, and this seems to make up her mind for her as she very deliberately takes another bite of her apple. The other couple, she gives another look for a minute before she gives up looking for a pocket to stuff them in and just holds onto them. They do not make it onto the pile for the Weyr's reserves just now. "Were there ever any of them eyeing you up?" she then misunderstands Kasadel, arguably on purpose, as she glances at Oysric and Milani as if to ask if they've ever seen proof of as much.
High above the orchards, dragons come and go: this time Vrianth's among the reinforcements, blinking into existence along with a mix of other Snowstrike dragons and a lone Boreal green, descending wingtip to wingtip with the latter until at last they land upon one of the clearer knolls and start offloading passengers. Which wouldn't take as long if they weren't all talking half the time.
"I'll give you that one, Kasadel," Oysric replies back to Kas, grinning back at him. "It's one thing to do it one day, but what about the other six?" The stablehand moves onward and stops once at Kasadel's last remark, making him laugh. "Funny guy," he mutters. And then, at Tiriana's question, Oys laughs once more. The arrival of the other dragons, Vrianth included, makes him pause, but then he's back to looking for more apples again.
"You'd better believe it, sweetheart," Kasadel tells Tiriana, unconcerned by her misunderstanding, deliberate or no. "It's been trying, actually, having to tell them all that no, my warm embrace is off limits for a while. Poor things." To Oysric, he shrugs, unconcerned, adding in, "You'll just have to take my word for it, or maybe seek me out more often." He adds a few more apples to his basket, not really terribly choosy as long as they're not /too/ bug-eaten. Or Bennin-bitten.
Tiriana, snickering too hard, can't quite work up more than an ineffectual glare at Kasadel for the term 'sweetheart.' "Oh, please. 'Warm embrace,' who /says/ stuff like that." Besides Kasadel, obviously. Tiriana settles for shaking her head and taking another bite, then finally tossing her extra apples into his basket and flexing her hand when it's finally loose of the awkward handful.
Eventually the newest batch of reinforcements shows up, mostly a scrawny lot with a tendency to shirk, but at least they're carrying some spare sacks so they can't use the excuse of baskets running short. Though most of the dragons are already departing, Vrianth's still waiting as her rider plays shepherd, the short-straw designee to get the "helpers" over to the main group to actually "help." The only time when Leova stops them is when they reach the first wave of current workers, the greenrider scanning the people and trees and more tricky trees before calling, "Oys! Millie about?"
Oysric listens to Kasadel's retort to Tiriana and rolls his eyes. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, Kas," he tells the candidate. "Ever got kicked by her before?" He glances toward the goldrider in amusement before returning to his apple-picking. The stablehand's snickering, however, can clearly be heard at Tiriana's reaction to Kas. But soon his snickering comes to an abrupt halt as he hears the greenrider's voice. He thumbs to the group behind him, telling Leova: "She shouldn't be too far behind me. With the candidates."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," ripostes Kasadel, missing the point somewhat, but apparently not caring particularly much. "Though not until I'm no longer a candidate. Or a weyrling." He seems confident of this latter bit, not lingering over the words, just carrying on with what he's doing. "Been pushed off a cliff by her, I think I can manage," he notes to Oysric, cheerfully.
Milani looks between Kasadel and Oysrice, brows up and just shakes her head, picks up another apple, then looks along the rows of trees towards where dragons land, Vrianth among them and grins. "Here we go," she says lightly and puts that apple in Kasadel's tub. "I think hanging out and flirting are just fine, by the by, but you know, nothing that would lead to babies, because babies and baby dragons just don't /work/ together."
"I haven't kicked anybody in a while," Tiriana asserts, with a superior look down at Oysric. "A few months, at least." Beat. "Did that, though," is added after a moment, with a smirk and a falsely modest glance down and sideways at Kasadel. "How'd that work out, anyway? With that girl."
"Candidates. Check. Thanks, Oys," and Leova scans a second time, eyes narrowed against the slant of the sun. This time, her gaze runs into one of the people talking to the stablehand nearly right away, and if what's head-height on a good chunk of people is only shoulder-height on him, well, how convenient is that for spotting his candidate's knot? So she gives Kasadel's shoulder a nod without bothering to look higher, whistles at her crowd and takes a few steps forward... and past the lanky teen, lo-and-behold there's her not-much-shorter prize. Even more convenient! "Shoo," she tells her collective sack-carrying entourage. "Ask /her/ where to go." Milani gets a smile that doesn't even pretend at being sorry.
"Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple.
Kasadel fastens his smile upon Milani, nodding quickly: "No babies, and that's a promise. No intention of being a dad, anyway. Not for a few turns, yet. Worked out just fine, thank you, Tiriana," he adds in, turning towards the goldrider with a positive beam. "Though I nearly lost-- well. Something precious." Snorting at Oysric, he ducks his head back to his work. See: industrious!
Oysric says, "Oh, that's good to hear," Oysric intones dryly. Though, from the sound of it, there's a hint of relief in his voice too. There's a chuckle before going on to look over his shoulder and tell the goldrider (but including a look to Kas in the comment): "With Kasadel, there's /always/ a girl involved, even if he says there isn't one." He glances toward Leova, chuckling under his breath as he watches her posse. "What's Vrianth think of all the conveyance duty, Leova?" Oys asks the greenrider curiously. Oh look. Another apple."
Come down from the main hold, his shirtsleeves rolled up and a crate stamped "cider" held between both hands, N'thei cuts a distinctive silhouette against the ruddy afternoon light. By himself, a rare thing to see him without F'rint-the-sidekick these days, his strolling steps wind down the path in no particular hurry, approaching the collective apple-pickers with an absent survey of the industry. It's a fleshy woman from the kitchens that enjoins him first, asking with a congested chuckle, "Fine thing as the holders get us down here doin' their chores, idn'it?" Good-natured though, while she tosses another fruit into her basket.
"Faranth forbid," is Tiriana's quick response on Kasadel's potential fatherhood, with a smirk aimed at Milani and him both then for that turn of conversation. That is, until Kasadel earns her full attention again with his answer to her. Eyes narrowing, Tiriana eyes him a moment, then asks, "Something precious."
That group of reinforcements is eyed by Milani and she gestures down the aisles of trees a little ways. "That section hasn't been gone through yet," she tells them with a grin and sweeps a loose strand of hair out of her face, trying to tuck it back into her braid. "Hi Leova! Good to see you feeling better," she says warmly to the greenrider. Kasadel is then eyed sidelong and she laughs outright. "Another good plan." She sniffs the air, the scent of roasting pork getting more intense as the afternoon shades later and the prospect of dinner starts to loom on the horizon.
Leova, upon seeing the herd over to Milani with a, "Thanks," backsteps away from any mention of babies, and if it means answering the stablehand, so much the better. "Not so thrilled," she tells him. "But. Wingleader doesn't want me on sweeps until I'm all the way over this cold, for-sure-this-time, don't-I-dare-sneeze-on-him-or-else." And so she lifts a shoulder: what can you do. "What about you, like the change of pace all right? Seeing as how it's just this once, for now, anyway."
"Full of good plans, I am," Kasadel promises Milani with a grin. Although his eyebrows raise a little at Tiriana's question, he doesn't answer her - his expression is one of 'well, wouldn't you like to know', very self-satisfied. "Is it nearly time to eat? I'm /starving/."
Footsteps slow and deliberate in the sometimes-awkward footing of the tilled earth, L'vae is making his way along an aisle adjacent to the one Milani points along. The basket he holds is mostly full, but he still stops every few strides to bend and inspect an apple - usually adding it to his collection. There's a small knot of riders a ways behind him, but he seems to be roughly heading for the large bin nearest the asistant headwoman's group of candidates.
Oysric nods again at Leova, looking behind him then back to the greenrider, saying, "Didn't know you were sick. Hope you recover quickly, if you haven't already." He chuckles softly as he listens to Kas talk to Tiriana, shaking his head in amusement. Another apple's picked and then Leova's glanced at again, saying, "Pace is fine," Oys explains. "As long as I'm working and the sky's not terribly cloudy at night, I'm happy." Hiram is seen in the distance, making the stablehand sigh. "Excuse me while I go explain to my good friend Hiram how to pick apples properly," he tells Leova. "I wouldn't want him to die. Suffer maybe, but never die." Oysric chuckles softly and he's quickly jogging toward the other stablehand in the distance, sack of apples shaking over his shoulder.
Tiriana's mouth sets into a line at Kasadel's lack of answer, and she glowers at him, too. However, with nose in the air (and a bite of her half-finished apple probably spurred on by Kasadel's question), she turns away from him, toward the rest of the group. "Isn't there supposed to be a /real/ party? They promised me a party, not just--" Working, apparently, as she eyes Oysric moving off to continue that effort.
Leova gives Oysric much the same, "Thanks," as she'd given Milani, with a dour note that speaks of stories that just don't need to be told right now, and a nod after it for the pace, for the skies, and yes, for even Hiram. She looks after him, hesitates, and look: an apple at her feet, brown enough to not even be good for cider, not so brown as to likely squash against her boot toe. So she gives it an idle kick, and watches where it goes.
N'thei, for lack of anything more useful to do, stops at a tree in the middle of the row being worked by Milani and her reinforcements, one that's cultivated an apron of grass already picked clean of fallen fruit. There, nestled against the trunk, he parks the crate of cider and himself next to it, lowers his back down till he sits between two knobby roots. "This isn't a /real/ party?" he questions wryly, peering around the trunk of the tree to watch Tiriana and Kasadel with the mockery of grin; look at the good little boys-and-girls doing chores.
Having been quietly, steadily working on picking up apples and either tossing them behind him or dropping them in his basket as proven effective. Luttrell's basket is full, and nearly overflowing as he drops an apple while carrying the basket to put it with the rest of the full ones. With no more baskets, the candidate gets a sack to begin filling and heads back toward Milani. A nod is given to N'thei as he passes him.
Milani smiles at Leova again and waves as Oysric heads off, then calls another warning out to Bennin. "Oh for the love of little Faranths, Bennin, stop /half-eating/ the apples!" And her last bunch go into the bin and it looks like things are fairly well stocked by now. N'thei's approach and hail bring Millie's hands up onto her hips and she eyeballs the Weyrleader assessingly for a moment. "Looks like you brought us a party in a crate, no? And if that pig is starting to smell like dinner is any time."
Kasadel returns Tiriana's glower magnified into a beaming smile, winking at her saucily, though, like the 'good' candidate he is, he quickly gets back to work, his tub now probably as full as can be easily lifted. "Not 'til we're all partaking," he decides, glancing back up towards N'thei, though his nose wrinkles slightly at the case of cider. "But - that pig," he agrees, echoing Milani. "Smells good. And then it'll be a real party."
An answer to her question, Tiriana expects, but not in that voice that has her head twisting around sharply to find it. her mouth, of course, curves into a definite scowl. Well, when she sees N'thei; not so much when a second later, her eyes settle on the keg of cider. "Well. Maybe," she rethinks too. Her apple's remainder is tossed aside as she gives in for the afternoon, apparently.
Leova follows the apple, gives it another kick, follows it some more. And there's Luttrell and the apple, fallng: she reaches sharply out to scoop it out of the air, spin it in one hand as he moves on, check the thing for extra bruises. A surprise around here, maybe, that there's not: she catches up, reaches to set it in the basket again. His, another's: doesn't much matter.
N'thei's eyes follow Luttrell, hang from the candidate's nod for a second, the bulk of the man's smirk hidden behind the mouth of the bottle he uncorks to sample. The rest of the crate is full, yes, and he answers for it to Milani; "Brought /you/? Love, this is all for me." A dozen bottles, and he's settled down to work his way through the lot of them. "But if someone's industrious enough to bring me food, could be persuaded to make a trade." He raises questioning eyebrows, looks from Kasadel to Tiriana to Milani and back again; someone run along and feed him, go.
"For cider? Ugh. Not I!" says Kasadel, now back to ignoring Tiriana completely, and tugging thoughtfully at his tub of apples. "I think I'll just go carry this one out of here, and get /myself/ some food, thanks all the same." N'thei gets an appraising glance, then a shake of the head, and the lanky candidate heaves the tub into the air, and begins to wander away. It's a little heavy: he staggers, once, then repositions the tub, and seems to manage much better.