Good ol'fashioned [rumble]

[rockmesaliqa]

WHO: Inviere, Shad, Warucori, Silarra, Saliqa, Gustav, Taikrin, Xeoshen, Ivana, Gabrion, npc: Trahalor, other candidates
WHERE: Candidate Quarters, HRW
WHAT: Lines are drawn and crossed when a candidate brings up a prank and others disagree.



With the evening winding to a close and the crummy weather persisting (thundersnow? /Thundersnow/?), the barracks are alive with post-chore, post-dinner candidates indulging in a few precious hours of free time. Pairs and trios of chatty girls wander in and out of the Common Room, from which sporadic bursts of laughter reveal the bulk of the evening's activity; a few of the studious Crafter-types are hunched over books or copying; and some are sprawled out on their bunks with pens and paper, writing letters or poetry or journals. Inviere is one of these -- though, judging by the appraising way she's considering the sheet of paper, she's essentially done with her missive.

Shad is one of the industrious types, though it's not a book he's hunched over, but a mess of thin wires in a three different colors. He's got one end of the wires tacked down under his footlocker, sitting crosslegged next to it, braiding the wires together.

With a laugh just bubbling out of her, Warucori is one of those few coming into the barracks, hand in hand with the towering and not-so-subtly leering Trahalor. The curly haired candidate is oblivious to it though, face rosy and lips curled up into the largest smile. "I will /not/ be going in there with you." She sing-songs at him and then lowers her voice as she lets go of his hand and makes for her cot. "I don't want to talk about that now anyway."

Silarra is curled up on her cot, a journal out in front of her. She taps her pen on the page absently. The young woman seems to be doing as much staring into space as actual writing. Warucori's entrance gets a quick, not entirely nice, grin from Silarra.

Gabrion's cousin isn't the only one noticing the entrance; a whole gaggle of girls, huddled around the leader of their group's cot, hawkishly watch Warucori and Trahalor walk in. As soon as the two are past, whispers are exchanged and then a burst of giggles erupt from each. One of them appears to be mimicking Warucori's oblivious smile in an exaggerated manner.

Inviere doesn't really go in for teenie bopper relationships and all, so she doesn't pay Warucori and Trahalor nearly as much mind as her compatriots. She glances up at their passing -- how could she not? That Trahalor guy is huge -- but except for the barest of smiles on Warucori's behalf, she's more interested in her own business than anyone else's. The clique's outburst does elicit a disgusted look, but disgusted looks haven't shut teenage girls up in centuries and they're likely not about to start. Sitting up, Inviere scans her letter a final time, then carefully folds it, and gets to her feet for a good stretch.

Shad ignores the ruckus caused by Warucori's entrance. He doesn't know the reason for it, and doesn't really care. Besides, he's busy. He finishes a bit of braiding, then sits up straighter, stretching his back after being hunched over for hours.
Trahalor, dangerous, towering and sharp-eyed notices those girls and he lags behind Cori, if only to lean onto the bed right beside one of the Lead Girl, invading her personal space. "What were you saying sweet cheeks?" He asks her, honey-sweet voice and wide smile countering the brittle look in those silvery eyes.

Queen of obliviousness from the land of oblivion, Warucori is too giddy to take notice of the girls teasing her, for now. She grips a pink hanky in a greedy fist, lifting it to her nose to smell it, grinning over at Trahalor. Only then does she notice where he is sitting -- with the Clique-Leader. Her lips flatten a little and she blinks around the barracks at last, smiling in that dazed 'too much sun in the eyes' unfocused bewilderment. "How is everyone doing?" The blush is slow to rise, color going warm and rosy in her cheeks when she takes in the room at last. Perhaps not a good thing to be /too/ happy.

Silarra eyes Trahalor for a moment with clear amusement on her face as he starts to invade the personal space of clique girl. "Oh, I think we're all doing find and dandy tonight." Silarra speaks up with her usual dry tone. "I hope you're doing well. Not feeling lonely at all, or anything."

There's not a lot of noticing any looks from Inviere, with the big man suddenly leaning in so close and all. While a couple of the girls flutter a few steps away with their furtive glances back, Lady Leader barely bats an eye. Instead, she flips her hair over her shoulder, all of its luscious blondeness. Her palm snaps up to Trahalor's nose, preventing him -- well, not with any /force/, but the idea of him -- invading further. "Save it for the airhead."

Behind all of this drama, and therefore two seconds past being aware of it, Saliqa wanders in. Her appearance is less than top shape, but with the air of that she tried to fix it to that before coming in. Peeling off fingerless gloves, she turns her hands this way and that to examine short nails for any extraordinary dirtiness or chipping. Out of her periphery, she manages to avoid bumping into Warucori, but she does pause near her right before walking past. "Oh, hello, dear," the friendly expression falls when she glances up. "Oh... is everything fine? You look a little..." Too polite to phrase it, apparently, she waves a hand in a circle around her own face.

Shad does finally notice the problem, and gets to his feet ... as much to be able to get out of the way of a fight if one gets started as to defend the girls if it becomes necessary. "Hey Saliqa." He calls, when she comes in. "How're we on the scavenger hunt?" Not-so-subtle subject change, yay!

Inviere, now sufficiently limber, stands at her bunkside to take in the quaint shenanigans of her fellows. She's careful to maintain a cool, unreadable expression, her long fingers turning that paper all the while. A single low "Hm" encapsulates the sum total of her feelings of this business, including everyone from Clique Girl to Towering Man to the Queen of Oblivious Oblivion, and her hands are thoroughly washed. Less metaphorically, one of those hands pulls a small key ring, with only two or three keys, from her trousers pocket. At her trunk in a few short steps, she crouches, pops one of the keys in the lock, and opens the thing.

Trahalor purses his lips in a little air-kiss to the girl, "you're just sassy enough to /eat/." He says, reaching out to grasp her chin in his big fingers and give her an unkind squeeze there. Not enough to leave a physical mark, but enough to startle her, maybe. He's hardly out of punishment-chores anyway, so this is a rare 'treat' for him to get to torment some of his fellow candidates. He looks the girl over, like he might just bite her and then releases her, if she hasn't squirmed out of his claws, "too small though." He notes , sounding disgusted as he withdraws. Smirking.

Cori misses this 'side' of her sweetie-Trahalor when Saliqa comes in close and speaks with her. The laughter is one pitched up in nervousness, "oh, justnothing. Just came in to see if I could find someone to join us exploring the store rooms." Her eyes trail over to Shad and to Inviere and the lock'age.

Silarra sits up straighter in her cot, closing her journal as she turns to watch what else is going on. She sneaks a look for Gustav nearby before stating. "Well, certain groups might have managed to get it all. Even if they continue to lie to their group members about not having something important." Trahalor gets another long look. But as long it's the clique leader his hands are on? She'll chill and watch.

Oh look, it's Taikrin! She's been curiously absent for the afternoon chore sessions, and now the reason is apparent: her right arm, swinging at her side, is finally cast-free. Her mood is remarkably good, and she's got a cat-that-ate-the-canary look to her as she saunters into the barracks. The cluster of candidates catches her eye, and she changes course over towards them -- particularly, to stand casually besides Saliqa -- with an amazingly friendly, "Hey, 'sup?" She is, for the moment, utterly oblivious to whatever tension might be gathering.

"Ewwwwwwwww," is the chorus from the followers, one of whom entirely excuses herself from the company to go and do something... just not boy-related at all. Lady Leader, though, jerks away from the touch immediately after it is initiated, that hand that he clearly ignored slapping his away with no lack of force. "And you're a freak," she decides, wiggling dismissive fingers, "Shoo." When he's moved away, she summons her harpies back to her with quick snapping fingers, "He likes skin and bones," she smirks, "Well, he can choke. /Why/ don't they all have guards and ankle-chains, again?"

"Exploring the stores?" Saliqa repeats of the girl's explanation, looking entirely skeptical as to the appeal of that particular past-time. Then, realization dawning over her raised eyebrows, she leans in to grip at Warucori's sleeve, "Do you need a /chaperone/?" But before this can be discussed, she's apparently become the hub of activity. First, she straightens to give Shad a perfectly friendly smile then glances over to notice that Taikrin has arrived. "I got a smile-- did I tell you that? It's rather clever, even-- Oh, hey... sss'oup?" She tries, oh, she tries.

Her foot locker now open, Inviere reaches in for another, smaller box, big enough to fill a cross-legged lap. It, too, is kept closed with a small lock, more cosmetic than a real deterrent -- but it still requires the use of a key, which Inviere quickly inserts. Pop, it's open, and she's got her newest letter laid inside it and the lid down again before there's much chance to see what all else she keeps. In a few smooth motions, she returns the small box, closes the trunk, and locks the whole thing. The keys go back into her pocket before, with a final glance cast about the cavern, she grabs her jacket off a peg and quits the room to go do... whatever it is Inviere does at night. Probably turns into a bat or something.

Shad glowers at Trahalor, edging closer. He's got no illusions about how he'd fare in a fight, but he'd do better than some of the girls. "You did? Cool. That means we're almost done." he says, then waves to Taikrin.

Gustav strolls in, passes Inviere on her way out likely. If he checks her out as she goes by, maybe no one will notice? No one that matters anyway. Hopefully. The various tensions that fill the quarters are lost on him as he makes his way to his cot. Damp jacket thrown down on top, it's a sign that he's been outside recently in the crazy weather. He doesn't waste any time before he begins digging around in the press, looking for something, something.

Silarra moves forward to sit on the end of her cot, legs dangling out over the edge. Inviere is watched with curious eyes before she looks back to the other group. "Exploring the stores? Is it a new frontier full of adventure?" Silarra calls over before turning her gaze to eye Gustav instead. "Hey, you man up and get that fleece from Tiriana yet?"

The convict gives Lady-Clique a saucy wink, sizing her up with a slow up and down look from under his rough-cut hair before slowly rolling back onto his heels. "Don't get your panties all twisted up Sweets. Trahalor is more interested in the fluttering of the girls rather than if it stopped them from saying anything. With that completed the man saunters over to his cot and flops down, making the cot bounce loudly. As he kicks his booted feet up onto his cot, his bright eyes pin-point Inviere. The locks, the boxes, the way she's fussing in the cot. A quick lick of his lips and he waits there, staying awfully still and focused.

Cori looks over at the sound of the cot and then back to Saliqa and nods her head vigorously at her quick assessment of the situation, "yes!" She says breathlessly. Now is apparently not the time to talk about it though and after a quick squeeze to Saliqa's arm her hand falls away and she smiles at her other fellow candidates. "How did you get the smile? I'm afraid to ask...and I'm not very funny -you know, with jokes."

After a detour into the bathing caverns to clean up, Xeoshen is slipping his way into the candidate quarters. He moves out of the way of those leaving, and looks after them, before he nods to those in the room. "Hello." He greets, before he heads towared hiss cot.

Shad continues to glower at Trahalor, and actually moves so that he blocks the man's view of what he's staring at. It makes him nervous. What's the overgrown excuse for a human being up to?

Taikrin eyes Saliqa sideways at the mangled slang, but doesn't call her on it. Rather, Trahalor has captured her attention, and some of the smug smile slips away to be replaced with dark confusion. "Ain't that yer boy, Cori?" She pivots on her heel to watch Trahalor's departure, idly cracking the knuckles on both hands as she does so. "Y'should keep 'im in line. Boy like that needs a firm hand." Taikrin's capacity for obliviousness is, apparently, endless. "Smile?" Her attention is abruptly pulled back to the other girls. "Like, f'r th'hunt? Gabe says I gotta get that one too."

Now that Trahalor's not nearby anymore, the clique girls seem to have absolutely no problem going right back to what they were doing-- in fact, they've added an impression of his intimidation tactics to their repertoire. The power that is gossip is eternal.

Saliqa wants to be more mystified at Warucori's behavior, but she diplomatically spreads her attention to each person standing there in turn; though she isn't quite practiced enough in glancing evenly around at everyone without looking a bit hurried. Somehow, in this-- or maybe /because/ she's looking around so much-- she spots Xeoshen and raises her hand above the group to wave at him. Then, it's to the conversation. "I had an idea," she tells Warucori shortly, a little too amused with herself, "Though, I will say that I don't think jokes would be the way to go. Very serious man." And she nods sagely, before adding more solemnly, "All boys need a-- wait. /Her/ boy?"

Trahalor needn't fear: Inviere doesn't return in the next handful of minutes, and since she took her heavy coat with her, it's probably safe to assume she won't be back for a while. A handful of the girls, still tittering about his interference, scowl bravely at him -- there's safety in numbers, you know -- as they scoot past on their way to the Common Room. Of course, they have to encounter Gustav on their way there, and they seem about as happy as /that/ as anyone with two X chromosomes might. Well. Two out of three of them, anyway. One flutters her eyelashes saucily as her friends, disgusted, drag her off. "GROSS, Fiana."

Hearing Silarra, Trahalor rumbles with a certain dark laughter, "new frontier of -excitement- and adventure sweetheart." He assures her with a bold wink. When he resumes looking at Inviere 's press and finds Shad there, a shadow crosses his features. Slowly, he pushes himself up and rests his elbows on his thighs. Silvery-blue eyes meet Shad's and hold his gaze but he asks the room as a whole, "So, anyone -ever- wonder what that cold-fish has in that foot locker of hers? Got to be something to make that icy b..girl tear up."

Warucori hears him, she really does. She looks over at him with a mixture of anger and horror for him speaking of their trip but what's worse is Taikrin is calling her to task for it. "W-well, he's not really 'mine'. I mean, he's not even formally courting me." Her chin comes up in pride, "so, until that time, I have no claim on him nor him on me." although she does wring the pink cloth in her hand more tightly.

Silarra looks over to Trahalor with a smirk. "Maybe someone finally told her that she's not actually better than everyone else in words she'll actually believe? Or threatened to make her spend the rest of her life mucking stables?" Silarra quips, swining her legs. "I bet it's something really vapid and stupid though."

Gustav probably saw that eyelash fluttering, but he seems preoccupied today. Still arms deep in his press, he's got enough ears to hear what Trahalor is saying. A frown crosses his face and causes his eyebrows to narrow together thoughtfully, he turns and peeks over his shoulder. The larger, scary-making man is given a long look. Everyone else just gets a roll of his eyes as he silently continues to do what he's doing.

"He ain't? Way he been followin' you around, like? Reckoned your sorts wouldn't go in f'r that sort'a playin' around. Needed commitment or whatever." Taikrin is really terribly confused, now, and she studies Trahalor again with furrowed brows. "Boy's gonna get himself beat, he don't watch it." Gaze returns to Saliqa and Warucori, then. "You girls really go in f'r that sort'a thing? Pretty boy like that's dangerous." Beat, then, plaintively: "I /really/ didn't think y'all were th'sort t'keep him occupied, or so y'keep tellin' me."

Shad's dealt with bullies all his life, so he doesn't back down from Trahalor. "I don't think it's any of our business what's in there." He says. Oh, he's been as curious as anyone else, but he's not going to encourage Trahalor.

"Better not," Saliqa defines, eyeing Warucori with all her nineteen turns of seriousness and wisdom, "Seems like a really... terrible idea..." She had a few words for Taikrin, and being lumped into 'you girls', too, but the disturbed thin-lipped expression that merited gets pushed away by her distraction at Trahalor's announcement. Her mouth opens and closes a few times to make her excuses to the girls but then she's grasping her skirts and marching on over to stand near Shad. "Excuse me, but he's right. No business of yours, or ours, and that's being a bit rude to say," to which she includes a glance to Silarra.

For all the threats, either verbal or in silent daggers sent his way, Trahalor is as troubled as if he were alone in the room with only himself and Shad there together, plotting away. "Really? Seems to /me/ that this is a public dorm and we're all candidates right? Couldn't we just have a peek?" He eases towards Shad, lowering his eyes slightly, something very confident and confiding towards the younger lad, "you were a smith. I -KNOW- you have the skills to pop open those locks." The convict snaps his fingers, "poof, like that. And we could have a quick read. See who she's writing about and to -whom- eh?" He doesn't look away from Shad though, his smile a brotherly one. Perhaps his voice is low enough no one else hears him.

Warucori's teeth press against her lower lip as she shoots a worried look at Trahalor as 'her' guy hatches up this particular plot in the barracks. Her frantic look flitters around at the others, "ohoh that'sthat not a v-very good idea." She murmurs.
Silarra gives Saliqa a quick grin. "But it's not like we'd /do/ anything to them. Just read them and put them back. Life is all about information." Silarra states. Her tone is rather light for this. She might just be joking around. "It'd just be a prank. No one'd get hurt."

Taikrin lets out a rather huffy sigh, but trails after Saliqa nonetheless. "Oh, leave 'im alone, Saliqa. Y'ain't talkin' sense into 'im." Her voice lowers, then, to a loud whisper as she leans in closer to the other girl. "He's as likely t'stab you as look at you, that sort. For serious." The she maintains her smirk of nonchalance, there's an underlying current to her posture that speaks of deadly seriousness. Louder, then: "That boy ain't gettin' in there on his own, anyways." Silarra gets a hard look, though it's followed by rolled eyes. "Don't encourage 'im. Y'all're all crazy, payin' mind t'him." He's a criminal, after all!

Dig. Dig. Dig. Those tensions are beginning to get to him too. He takes in a breath and looks back over in their direction once again. His eyes rest onto Silarra eventually, "Seriously, you're not really that much an idiot to think this will be a harmless prank?" This is probably not something that Saliqa will enjoy being phrased that way, but it's what comes out of his mouth. "There's an expectation of privacy in that footlocker. It's not public. You break into it, you read it, you're a jerk. Simple. More of a jerk than whatsherface. I'll be the first to rat you all out." Shad, Tralahor, Silarra, whoever.

Shad /glares/. "We are all Candidates, yes. And you're about three seconds from being reported. We all have a right to privacy, and that's what Inviere's asking for by locking her things away." He says.

"No one hurt?" Saliqa angles herself out to properly address Silarra, "How would you like your own things pawed over?" Though she hesitates when Taikrin comes near, a clear layer of color leaving her face briefly at the mention of stabbing. But her feet hold ground, and her hands find their way to her hips for the proper posturing. "Because he's not being sensible I just ignore it and let it go on?" She inquires incredulously of Taikrin, perhaps a taint of disappointment in her voice. There's a reversal of this, a kind of pride and companionship when she sidles a step closer to Shad. "The lock means it's private," she reiterates, slowly as if that'll help Trahalor understand.

At this point, a couple of the younger boys, no doubt in awe of Trahalor and his swaggering manly manliness, scootch ever-closer to the candidate cluster to see how they can interfere. Err, help. It wouldn't take much to recruit them into an unsavory scheme or three, judging by their eager expressions and, well, their genetic predispositions for shenaniganry. "Come on," one of them, a kid about 13, urges. "No one's gonna know about it unless we say something." The others nod enthusiastically, wickedly. And the trunk, well, it just sits there. Trunkenly.

Trahalor sweeps a hand through his hair, grinning slowly as his eyes travel around at all the other candidates. "Oh please. 'Report' me? Who would you tell?" He swivels and then stands up, going to his own press and withdrawing a small bag. A sly, wolfish grin over at the boys and then he's gliding over to Inviere's truck. Who ever is going to report him, better do it quick, because he's already kneeling down and picking at the first of the locks. Over his shoulder he calls, "Corikeep a look out on the door."

Warucori makes a sound of protest, but also can't help but giggle, "Okalright." She goes to stand 'watch' for Inviere's return. "it's not like we're going to break anything." A worried look at the others, "try not to break anything."
You paged Shad with 'Are you gonna shove him? Cause otherwise Sal totally is...'.

Silarra isn't making a move to actually /do/ anything for or against it. She's still sitting on the edge of her cot, swinging her legs with a smirk on her face. "Ah. See, you say that like someone wasn't already in my press since the start of candidacy. I survived. It completely wasn't the end of the world." Silarra pauses a moment before she shrugs. "Besides. It's /Inviere's/ press." As if that makes all the difference in the world to the girl.

"/Yes/," Taikrin hisses back towards Saliqa. "'Cause I /ain't/ feelin' like gettin' /stabbed/ f'r you t'day." In Taikrin's world, everything ends in violence. Her eyes roll, again, and she folds arms defensively across her chest. Much like one would eye a rabid dog, her focus remains on Trahalor: a ripple of tension runs through her frame as he goes to his press, weight shifting instinctively to the balls of her feet, and it only dissipates a bit when the lockpicks are revealed. "Oi, /you/ ain't need t'be seein' this." The nearest of the young lads is cuffed on the side of the head, abruptly, which prompts a yelp of dismay. But the lad only scurries over to hide behind Trahalor with a dark look for the apparently less-intimidating convict. "And /you/ are th'worst thief I /ever/ saw." The last is directed pointedly at Trahalor. Despite her disgust with the proceedings, Taikrin remains nearby, still poised for an attack -- or defense.

"Oh, you know. The headwoman. Weyrwoman. Whoever else can make sure you go back to the fucking mines. Or whatever disgusting hole they dug you out of." Gustav replies easily, he turns around and remains in that kneeling position, just facing them now instead. When a look out is posted he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling again, watching as various teenagers pick sides. "It doesn't matter who's press it is. You may have survived but I'm sure you wish someone would have stood up for you. Unbelievable, the people here are unbelievable." Slowly, like an old man he starts to get to his feet. Maybe he's hoping someone else will decide to be a hero by the time he straightens up.

"I'd go to the Weyrleader." Shad says. And he is, matter of fact, edging towards the door. To report this idiot. Because as much as he wants to know what's in there ... yeah. This is so not the way to get him to do it.

"/Fine/." Which is the last, chin-jutted out, retort Saliqa has for Taikrin before she's on the move. Pushing around any boys who feel the need to watch this wretched endeavor, she plows right up to where Trahalor is doing this wicked deed and aims a very unladylike reaction: she puts out both of her palms towards his shoulders and /shoves/. It doesn't matter that he's big and she's never had to lift weights in her life, but she's meaning to get herself very much in his way -- even to the point of trying to grab up that lock-pick, and generally making a physical nuisance of herself.

Unlikely as it is, it's probably worth noting that Trahalor's got a couple pals almost as big as he is, and they have years of practice as professional goons. One of them takes up a position near the exit, and the smile he gives Shad is probably the same look a tunnelsnake gives to any small mammal small enough to fit in its jaws. "Hey there, buddy," the guy, Derrinar, says affably. "You got somewhere to be?"

"So go and fetch her, sissy-boy." Trahalor says smoothly and looks over at Gustav with a horrible smile but Gustav and Shad both move to the door he grunts and turns back to the lock before him. He has a dark laugh for Taikrin, really enjoying his work it seems as the lock snicks open. "Might not be as good and smooth as you Sugar-hips but, dirty gets the job done." Dusting off his hands he flings off the top of the press with a flourish, "That is how it's done m'boys." Ah, training the youth of the weyr. He grunts at Saliqa's weight and twists, a big, powerful hand reaching for her wrist, his other hand holding the lock pick, "Easy now Baby, you don't have to throw yourself at me." Years in the mines and who-knows-what before plus many years of brawling with other convicts make him pretty immoveable.

Warucori shivers in the 'watch' post, particularly when the big guys come to join her at the door. The sound of scuffles makes her turn her head though and she shuffles her feet, "For goodness sake!!"

"Ah, see, but Inviere deserves so much worse than a bit of breaking and entering. Not like the big guy is going to steal anything. If it was someone actually nice? Then maybe I'd care. But that bitch? Deserves it." Silarra decides, though her eyes are on Trahalor and Saliqa. She looks ready to spring off and over now, but who knows what side it'd be for.

Oh, no, no. He wanted someone else to be the hero, but not /Saliqa/. Gustav's expression is one of unadultered horror. He stops being slow (and wasn't heading toward that door right anyhow) to straighten up completely, rushing towards the midst of the goons. The guys that are probably much better at beating the crap out of people than he is. Long legs take him around several stunned candidates who are just /staring/ at the spectacle ahead and right into the fray, where he tries to desperately insert himself in between the smaller woman and bigger man. Hissed to her, "/Stop/."

"Oh, bloody shells." Taikrin's comment is surprisingly droll, and she lets out a put-upon sigh as Saliqa has her, well, tantrum. Knuckles are cracked one more time, then she wades into the burgeoning fray. "Yeah, whatever, pretty boy." Her voice is so disinterested that it reeks of being forced, to match the carefully blank expression on her face. A sidelong look is directed at Gustav upon finding herself beside him, and a flash of surprise appears before being ruthlessly suppressed. "Papers, whatever. Don't care. Ain't my problem." Beat. "Hands off th'girl." Because that, apparently, is her problem... and will soon become his, too.

Ivana walks right into the barracks, carrying a tray. "Heya all, ah brought us a sn.." The heightened noise level and the fact that that mook Derrinar's standing next to the door.. in fact, a lot of people seem to be guarding the door.. "What th'cracked mussel is goin' on *here*?" She smacks the covered tray, top first, into Derrinar's chest. "Hold that, wouldja?" she asks, and elbows her way towards Cori, letting the big guy deal with the mess. "What's goin' on?" she says loudly into Cori's ear.

"Welcome to the party," greets the door goon, Derrinar, shutting said door loudly behind Ivana. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Shad is not to be deterred. "Well, you're going to be joining /him/ in disgrace." He says. "Because even if I don't get out of this room now, I /will/ speak to people in authority about this. You're about to sign up for a /very/ long term in the bottom of Crom's nastiest mines."

Since she's planted herself in the spot, Saliqa makes herself an easy target to grab onto; Trahalor's big hand might as well envelop her entire arm for the size difference between them. "I'm not your baby! And-- And you're an ass!" So there! Wriggling with growing discomfort, the yanking of her arm probably only makes the grip worse, what with him being so immovable. The fear that would probably be some kind of self-preservation is so far nowhere in sight, leaving only stubborn anger when Gustav appears. "You say it to /me/?" There's no time to notice Taikrin; she notes the open press and, grip on her wrist or no, ducks down with all of her deftness to try and grab up whatever's in there before anyone else can.

--and as to the mess: Derrinar's a big dude. It doesn't seem to bother him much. In fact, he trails his finger through some of the food and pops it in his mouth, slurping noisily, lasciviously. "Just for me?"

Aside from the coveted Box O'Letters, there's not a whole lot of super-interesting stuff inside the foot locker, though maybe it's a bit nicer than some of the other candidates' stuff. On top of a few sets of work clothes lie a silver-handled brush, a small drawstring purse, a small gilt jewelry box, a few other girlish implements and accoutrement. Lifting the workwear, Trahalor might find some more richly-colored fine fabrics and gowns -- just a dress or two, enough to fit in a suitcase -- but that's about it. There is, of course, The Box. And its delicate brass lock is very small indeed.
Xeoshen has arrived.

Silarra springs up and moves forward, padding across the floor in just socks. "Let her go and get on to the good stuff." The young candidate drawls, though it's pretty useless when Saliqa frees herself anyway. She turns and looks over to Shad. "Really? You're going to run off and tell on us? Like we're five year olds tattling to mommy?"

You paged Warucori with 'If you say Sal got 'em, you're, of course, free to shove her around. She's, like... mini-sized.'.

Warucori draws Ivana in closer, hands trembling, "I'm keeping watch. Theywell.. Trahalor really, is going through Inviere's press to see what's in ther." She cranes her neck now that the trunk is open and the sound of fussing and struggling has gone up in volume. "I just hope no one is going to get themselves hurt."

Trahalor hisses, "Calm downCaaaaalm down Missy-Britches." He still holds onto Saliqa, trying to yank her out of the open trunk when she flings herself over it. "That's itthat's got to be her box of letters. " A quick look in at the other things, he skims over them, doesn't care as it's not theft he's interested in, but what the woman was hiding. "Not going to do anything to harm them, just want to see what is all fire important and get that little priss in such a snit all the time."

"What you're doing is wrong." Shad says. "And it's not tattling to mommy to let people know when you're invading other peoples' right to privacy. If you're willing to do this, what /else/ are you willing to do?"

Gustav's eyes go wide when she goes to snatch that box. There's a noise of frustration in his throat and he hardly notices Taikrin appear there. The yank must be what does it. "Let the damn girl go or you're going to find something a lot more interesting in about a minute. And it's going to be my hand in your damn face." And well, if he doesn't let go or she doesn't twist free it's very likely that this is going to escalate. He's not going to punch per se. But there's going to be some body checking. And Gus isn't a teenager.

Gabrion sails into the candidate barracks, only to walk into the middle of DRAMA. He pauses just inside the door, his good mood dissipating into an expression that shows he's highly dubious about the wisdom of continuing further into the room. He glances back over his shoulder, considering just leaving instead.

Silarra raises her eyebrows and looks over to Shad. "I'm not /doing/ anything. No harm in talking is there?" She even gives Shad a falsely sweet smile. But then she's turning to look over to Trahalor. "Lay off touching the girl. You want to see the letters, tell us all what they're about? That's one thing. But no idiots need to be harmed to make it happen."

Ivana glances back at Durrinar, then at the closed door. "Waste'f good pie," she mutters, her left arm around Cori's shoulders. Silarra's taunts just make Ivana look disappointed. "They're going through /Inviere's/ press?" A quick surprised look at Cori confirms it and then she's staring at Trahalor as if looks could kill.

As Derrinar the Door Goon opens the door for Gabrion, here's what Gabe and, for that matter, Ivana, can expect to see: Saliqa tussling with Warucori's giant, sketchy pal Trahalor, who's kneeling over Inviere's open press; Taikrin and Gustav taking noisy exception; Shad getting up in Door Goon's face and, well, failing; and everyone else looking kind of like they wish they'd been somewhere else about 10 minutes ago.

Shad says, "Gabe, go get the Headwoman, now!" Shad says, diving forward to keep Jurassic Thug from grabbing the smaller boy. "Now!""

"Wasn't kidding." Taikrin remind Trahalor, drolly. She doesn't speak, otherwise: Gustav seems to have that covered. As Saliqa is being yanked backwards, Taikrin sidesteps swiftly around to the Trahalor's other side, moving with sudden violence to kick at the leg he's kneeling upon. It doesn't have enough force to do any damage, but if it lands it'd probably affect his balance at least. "One warning, boy."

With some stroke of swiftness, Saliqa manages to close fingers around the box causing all this trouble just before she's hauled backwards by Trahalor's yank. Aha! So she stumbles with the movement, trying to bring the item close in for a better hold while also straining her wrist against the same grip now stopping her from escaping with the valued prize. "Well, I don't care--what-- you want!" She curls up her fingers and puuuulls but if he doesn't let go then she's not going anywhere, just throwing her own self off balance by it-- not likely a good combination with everyone else's movement around.

Derrinar's hetero lifemate Agathor, who's just as big and mean as he is, has the added disadvantage of being quite a bit more stupid and impulsive -- so it's probably no surprise when he grabs Gustav, who is not a small man, by his pretty-boy collar and hauls him off towards a wall. "HEY now, ladies' man," he growls, "let's not be startin' nothin' we can't finish. Wouldn't wanna bruise your titties."

"Wait, what?" Gabe blurts, blinking at Shad. He's just not that quick on the uptake, not with all the chaos going on. Amidst the shoving and grabbing and collaring, it's Taikrin he fixates on for some reason, and strides toward, demanding to know, "What's going on?"

"The little lady, I might remind you -boy-, is the one who threw herself at me." Trahalor grunts like a bull when he's kicked by Taikrin. His head rears back, eyes growing dangerously narrow as he fixes her with a cold look. "Thank you Agathor.very kind of you." Though his leg is hurt by that kick, it only makes him look more dangerous. With the threat of Gustav out of the way, his big mit closes on the box and he yanks with all his strength to get it free of Saliqa's hand. "You're making a bigger deal out of this than you NEED." He growls and lets go of the tiny arm he was gripping and does as he's told. He all but flings rag-doll-candidate- Saliqa at Taikrin. A dangerous look is slowly flicked around at the others as he stands, already deftly working the tiny lock as he backs towards the goons by the door. There's a satisfying click and then the lid falls open and he runs a fat thumb over the letters, eyeing them in haste.

Warucori's eyes round and she clings to Ivana, "He ...he's really not that bad. He just...it's all for a joke. He said it's just...to read what she's been writing." The curly haired candidate looks really torn. Between concern for her friends and concern for the crush.

"They're stealing stuff from Inviere's trunk." Ok, technically they're not /stealing/, but they're breaking and entering. Close enough. "And you're on /that/ side of the door. GO."

Silarra looks over, giving her cousin a slightly guilty look. "Just trying to see what Inviere's hiding away from everyone." She states. But then she's turning to move towards the goon holding Gustav. "Hey. Let the sissy down. Surely you're big enough to keep him away without needing to leave marks on his pretty skin. He's still got to get something bright pink from Tiriana for me." Silarra still doesn't seem to be taking it all that seriously, though she's watching everything closely.

Taikrin's eyes narrow in response as she prepares to meet violence with violence, the sham of nonchallance fading. Left arm cocks back, preparing to throw one of those off-handed punches she's been practicing. "I ain't playin-- OOF." She would explain to Gabrion, really, except suddenly there's a Saliqa flying at her! Arms instinctively move to wrap around the smaller girl protectively, but the sudden change in momentum is enough to stagger her back a few paces and then, with another 'Oof!' to land flat on her ass,

The letters, once Trahalor gets them out and sorted, are numerous and date back several months, to within a few days of Inviere's arrival. None of them are from Inviere, save for perhaps a few notes she's made to keep track about correspondence, some scattered diary entries, that sort of thing. No, most of the letters are from someone named Vianna -- and most of them are boring. Lots of people's names, who's marrying who, who's impressed a firelizard, what new ships are in port at Misty Hold. It's evident pretty early on that Vianna is Inviere's sister, and that Vianna takes quite a bit of pleasure in bringing her sister up to speed on the gossip at Balen Hold -- not only just because, it seems, that Inviere had some romantic connection to Balen's heir apparent. It's mostly incomprehensible and uninteresting.

No, the REALLY interesting stuff is from the last month or so. The tone of Vianna's letters begin smug, but become increasingly hostile as it seems Inviere is not cooperating. The gist of it: Tiriana has done something with money belonging to the Holds... money from the meteors? And that, it seems, is why Ezalea packed up and left the Weyr. And the Holders -- they are not happy. They're really, really, REALLY not happy.

Gabrion looks at Shad, moving beyond dubious into dismissive territory. "Inviere can suck it," he tells him. "She's nothing but a -- HEY!" That's for Saliqa, when he sees her attacking Taikrin, and suddenly he's sailing across the room to join the fray. "You can't jump someone who has a broken ARM! Let go of her!" He's grabbing for anything he can reach, be it Saliqa's arm or hair or clothes, to pull her away from Taikrin.

"Cori, anyone ever tell ya that y'r entirely too nice?" Ivana turns from her angry regard of Trahalor to give her friend a slightly exasperated look. Saliqa and Taikrin's fall distracts her attention, and then Gustav and his grain fed midcontinent.. what? Her head snaps back again to hear Gabrion. "Hey! She didn't..." and then Ivana's off across the room herself to sort this thing out. "Stop it! Let 'em up! Saliqa just fell."

What--no! Saliqa does her solemn best to hold onto Inviere's property but she's all curve and no muscle and the box is ripped quite easily away, even if not without a fight. In the end, her own shoving and retaliating is probably what helps the momentum. Before she really knows what's going on, the tiny girl-shaped projectile is surrounded by Taikrin and then, just as quickly, on the floor. "Oww.." is muttered, possibly into some body-part of the female (former!) convict before suddenly she's being grabbed all over again. "Ow--/ow/!" Her hair isn't very long for grabbing, but Gabrion manages to yank some before he's got her arm and she's too confused to do much else but be pulled.

Long distance to Gustav: Saliqa saw! And laughed... I just thought you had your own problems off with some thug there. :O
Gustav is momentarily stunned by the headbutt he got. By the time he recovers letters have been grabbed but there's a much more pressing issue at hand. Gabrion has clearly gone insane. He tries as quick as he can to gather the younger and smaller candidate up and try to haul him bodily away if he can. "She's not attacking her you, you maniac!" And if he has succeeded in detaching Gabe from her he'll move him and set him down somewhere else.

"Sharditall!" Shad snaps. This is getting /entirely/ out of hand. "Out of my /way/." He tells Jurassic Goon, and dives for the door.

Silarra rushes over towards Gustav, trying to get inbetween him and Gabe, even it means grabbing at the bigger man's arm. "Don't you dare touch my cousin." The joking tone is gone now, that bit very serious and threatening. "You lay hands on him, and I'll make sure you don't enjoy looking at a pretty girl f`or a long time."

Taikrin flushes a very interesting shade of pink as her brain catches up with her reflexes and the fact that she's got an armful of Saliqa. Her voice is rather strangled, and it can't all be attributed to the pain of the fall. "Oi, you oka-- HEY!" Her right arm -- now obviously castless -- closes as tightly as the weakened limb can manage around Saliqa, and she bats at Gabrion with the far stronger left. "GABE! /Get off/! Y'gone crazy or somethin'!" A push of her legs against the floor is made, attempting to open some breathing room from the suddenly coalescing fray, and she twists around to try to put her shoulder between Saliqa and the worst of it.

Gabrion realizes something is wrong and lets go of Saliqa, spinning to face Gustav and Silarra. "I saw it, she jumped on her!" he insists, but he looks confused.

The convict reads, passing letters to the goons and keeping an eye on the goodie-two-boots and keeping one ear out for the sound of someone coming. At last he whistles, long and low. "wah wah wah" he passes the letter over, "oohhsomeone's marriedyadda yadda" And another, glanced at and passed. At last he pauses, eyes sharpening. He looks up at the room and then turns away, re-reading. "Well, I'll be a Rich Pretty-Boy-Dandy." Trahalor nudges one of the goons as he taps the corner of the letter against his front teeth.

As Shad jumps for the door, he finds none-other than Cori there, holding up her hands. "No no! NO! Not yet, not yet." She tells him, getting in his way as a last resort to the escape route. She looks over her shoulder, "Well..what is it? What does it /say/?"

Derrinar obviously doesn't have much of a future as a professional bouncer: his attention caught by Trahalor's acquisition of the prize that /started/ this whole mess, he wastes precious seconds on gawking -- and by the time Shad's caught his peripheral vision, it's too late. "HEY," he bellows, diving. He misses, stumbling over one of the many impeding feet and straight into a wall. WHAM. High Reaches Weyr's candidates earn the dubious honor of learning never-before-heard vulgarities.

Gustav is surrounded by crazy people. He hardly knows what to do next. With Silarra pawing at him and Taikrin helpfully trying to deter that he places the young man down safely, so he can do his twirling around thing. "Your cousin is out of his mind! We got enough problems right now. She didn't /attack/ Taikrin, she got thrown at her. Calm the fuck down." If the other teenager makes anymore grabs at him he'll bat her away, push. Whatever but he won't get overtly phyiscaly with the small girl. "Calm down, damn /it/."

Ivana shakes her head and reaches out a hand to help Saliqa up, the other for Taikrin, if she'll take it. "Y'all right?" she asks, leaning down so she'll be heard with everyone shouting nearby.

"Bite me, I saw her," Gabe says to Gustav, but he's not all /that/ interested in the argument - or the scuffle - for he's not jumping on anyone /anymore/, and he's much more distracted by Derrinar's profanity. "I don't actually think that's anatomically possible," he informs the nearby candidates, bemused.

There's so many people in one spot all of the sudden. Saliqa notices Gustav go by, feels that she's released, and then is nudged by Taikrin's shoulder so that some of the mess is finally over somewhere else. The first friendly face she sees is Ivana's, though, and that's possibly just as confusing. "No!" She'd charge forward on this insistence, but it's possible there's still an arm around her-- and a bunch of other people. "Come on! I'm not done with that guy!" Regardless that she did very little but deter Trahalor slightly.

Silarra turns to give Gustav a look. Her hands are off him though, on her hips now instead. "Who gave you the right to badmouth my family?" She asks, but then she's distracted looking over to the convicts. "Well? What's so interesting there? Juicy sexual habits or something? Inviere /really/ did like the runners in a perverted way?"

"Hey, stupid chits. Listen to this:" Trahalor roars out to the general buzz of noise in the room. He crackles the hide and reads:
"' ...Balen's been going on about Ezalea for sevens now. The things she said about that Weyrwoman of yours, Viere, you would not believe it..." And then, a little later, "...so anyway, apparently she and her slimy law expert decided to keep the meteor money all for themselves..." and "...the Holders are meeting in three days.'"
Trahalor look over the letter, growling, "pack that shit up boys and put it back. Hurry up damn it. Sharding Weyrwoman theif!!?"

Taikrin meets Ivana's offer of assistance with mute relief and a smile that's been twisted by all the chaos. Her attention is diverted again, though, by who else: Saliqa. "You're gonna get yerself /killed/ shardit Saliqa!" Taikrin is genuinely upset, now, which generally doesn't bode well. She attempts to hold her grip on the smaller girl, but it's her weak arm and it would take little effort to break away. "It's done, leave it!" Apparently she caught the tail end of the announcement, then, because her jaw drops-- and if she was looking angry before, she's positively poleaxed now. "Did he-- /what/?"

"Weyrwoman" and "thief" are not typically two words one expects to hear juxtoposed, but there they are. The younger lads, previously so very interested in helping their idol achieve his goal, are now drained of color; mere seconds pass before they have utterly disappeared into the secondary sleeping cavern. They were not here. They did not hear this just now. A few of the girls are simply staring at each other, and someone in the back of the room barks a forced, nervous laugh.

"The weyrwoman is not either a thief!" Gabrion insists loudly and vehemently, fists clenched angrily at his sides. "Don't you dare insult her!"

Gustav makes a noise of absolute disgust for the two teenagers near him. "Just shut up al- /Saliqa/." He sounds serious. He hardly ever sounds serious. He also sounds angry and frustrated as he whips around to try and grab her too. If Taikrin fails, the small girl is going to find a much stronger grip on her. And he's going to manhandle her just like he manhandled the last midget that got out of hand. Lift and place.

Real shock appears on Ivana's face at Trahalor's reading of the letter. Her hands are flat, palms outward toward Saliqa, just about to try and convince their newest brawler that it's probably better at this point to take things rather slowly.. but she whispers, "Law expert? Harper Addiene said.. and meteors?" Hurriedly she renews her offer of assistance from the floor, a frown on her face now.

Trahalor flaps the letter at Gabrion with a smirk, "maybe she isn't, maybe she is. This letter here all inked up says...she is."

Warucori obviously can't stop Shad from scamping off. She does give him a worried look. The big, awkward hands of the convicts aren't fast enough for her. "oh, give it to me." Deftly she takes up the letters, trying to be as careful as she can. She even angry yanks the box out of Trahalor's limp fingers now that he's too busy with that last letter. As though he's not going to be reported for breaking into her stuff when management walks in. The girl is strangely faithful to the brute of a candidate, enough to be the one red-handed in Inviere's press. "It must be a mistake. It's got to be.... GOT to be. Please. Stop it now. PLEASE." Trembling she gets the last letter free and runs for the press to get it tucked away.

Silarra considers that for a moment. "Might be a matter of perspective." She offers. "Like whether reading a letter you put back is actually stealing." And now that the violence seems to be mostly over, Silarra will wander back towards her cot, stockinged feet barely making a whisper on the floor.

"Well, Inviere's a stupid, nasty, mean, obnoxious, bratty liar," Gabe says heatedly. With that, he heads for the exit of the barracks with purpose - what purpose, he's not saying.

Saliqa just doesn't make it very far, what with all the hands willing to stop her. But there's also that, just like everyone else, the loud pronouncement means a slow down of action to let it sink in. If she's settled into a new, farther away, spot by Gustav right then, her only brow-wrinkled frown is still for the words hanging in the air. "... with the meteors? But-- it's just a story. See what a lot of good a harmless prank does..."

Xeoshen has been here, really, watching from his perch on his cot, the announcement makes his jaw drop, and eyes widen. "There aint no way the Weywomans a thief." He says. and nods to Saliqa. "Could just be somebody tryin' ta spread a rumor.

In the confusion and their bro-like concern for each other's manly injuries, Derrinar and his pal Agathor maybe aren't doing as good of a job actually guarding the door like they're supposed to be. Because suddenly, Inviere is standing in the entrance. And there they all are, her comrades-in-arms. Her fellow future Saviors of Pern. Her... partners in crime. "What," she says, entirely too calm, "are you doing?"

With teenagers off of him, with Saliqa finally not throwing herself into the middle of a brawl, Gustav is able to relax. He rubs his sore forehead and pushes his hair back with great agitation. "Oh you know, just the usual. People breaking into your personal belongings, us trying to stop them and the revelation that there's some sort of conspiracy going on with the Weyrwoman." He stops wiping his hand to drop it down against his side and stroll off to his cot, really. His work here is done. Or something. At the very least he's done getting wrestled with for the next five minutes.

Shad comes up behind Inviere, out of breath and irked. "Things they shouldn't be doing." He snaps between breaths.

Trahalor smirks, "shame those letters were not written by Icequeen... oh Inviere, so nice to see you." There's that slippery sweetness about his smile and he looks at her with a completely new enlightenment. That's gotta make her guess something is up.
Warucori Blinks owlishly from right alongside said Inviere's cot too but tries to flee away from it before the other woman can get her.

Taikrin rapidly overcomes her shock, though it's with anger and disgust. If Saliqa hasn't broken loose at this point, she'll find herself released with startling alacrity as Taikrin gets her feet under her and spins away, muttering under her breath to the room at a whole. "Y'all are /ridiculous/. Feedin' into that sack of /crap/ an' dirtyin' th'Weyrwoman's name an' y'ain't even know whacher fightin' for." Her fists clench, tightly, but seeing as no obvious target presents itself, she stomps a handful of paces away and kicks the leg of an unfortunate cot. Hard. Violence!

Silarra turns to look over to Inviere. She sinks down on her bunk and nods her head. "Really, I think Gustav summed it up pretty well. It was all terribly entertaining." Silarra states very dryly, with a non-too-friendly look towards Inviere.

Xeoshen snorts. "It's probably nothin' but a dirty rumor, ta place the blame on somebody innocent." He says, though he does eye Inviere as well.

Inviere's coat is hanging over her arms and not, as it might otherwise be, concealing her body; it is not hard, then, to see her beginning to shake. She shoots a cold look over her shoulder at Shad, but whether it's because she's too furious or too stunned to speak, she has no words for him. Quietly, then, she advances to the trunk, closes the lid. She kneels, retrieves the lock -- and finding it tampered with, but not entirely useless, she clicks it back into place. Her coat slides to the floor, where she lets it lie; and she straightens, though with some visible effort. "Who did this." Her eyes, shining, flick from Shad to Gustav to Warucori, where they land. "Who fucking did this."

"It's nothing, we don't know anything about," Saliqa informs whoever's left close to her, which could be no one thanks to all the stomping about, which none diminishes her need to say it. "All we got was a few words from a guy who had no right seeing 'em. That's how bad things start." Though she's yet working off some of her anger, her voice lowers in volume as she goes and all the lines in her forehead are just from being uncomfortable. This isn't enough to stop her from working her way towards Inviere, though. Slowly, a hand out. "Let's take this to them in charge..."

Trahalor chuckles quietly as he watches Inviere come in and crosses his arms over his chest before taking a slow stroll forward. "Oh please." He calls out sharply to Saliqa, "I did it. Keep your eyes in your head and how about you tell us why the hell you're not speaking up about those letters?"

But not to let Trahalor take the full weight of it, Warucori squeaks, "it was m-my idea. Iasked him to." She shoots a look to Saliqa, biting at her lower lip and scooting away a few more steps.

Gustav doesn't make it quite to his cot, instead he drops down onto the one that Taikrin has kicked. He looks up at her with a mostly blank expression, his eyebrows lifted before he shifts his attention back to Inviere. When she settles her own gaze onto the teenager responsible for helping this he watches as the truth comes out. Well, that was easy. And that's the look he shoots at the woman standing nearby too. Hopefully no one is using this cot tonight because he starts crawling on it to lay there.

Ivana straightens as Saliqa and Taikrin figure things out for themselves. She glances quickly toward Inviere, her cheeks flushed and jaw clenched with the tension in the room, and then watches Saliqa in surprise. But not in as much surprise as she then regards Cori with. "*You*?" pops out of her mouth before she can stop it.

"I think that's a grand idea. Why don't you take those letter right to Tiriana and see what she has to say about it?" Silarra states. "I'm sure she'd be so happy to have a big discussion about it in the hatching galleries. Or maybe up in the middle of the living caverns in front of the whole damn weyr."

Shad may have been willing to tell the adults, but he's not going to tell Inviere. The others, though, do it for him. "I tried to stop them. Then went for help." Because one guy against many is not exactly a fair fight, if things had gotten physical.
Taikrin cracks her knuckles then flexes her hands several times in a row in an obviously nervous gesture. She moves, at first, to sit on the cot besides Gustav, meeting his gaze with a flat one of her own, but as he lies out she jerks back upwards and paces with frenetic energy down the aisle and back again. Then, she's suddenly eyeing Trahalor with a terribly predatory look, though it's nothing beyond a glare. Yet.

Inviere's attention flickers, candle-fast, to Saliqa's hand: she regards it dispassionately, as if it were transparent, as if the gesture simply had no meaning. When her gray eyes dart back to seek Trahalor's face, they are angry, red-rimmed and shimmering -- but by the time her gaze has settled to Warucori, she is fully humiliated and betrayed, her eyebrows pushing up small mountains of skin at the bridge of her nose. Her arms shiver at her sides, briefly, before a step forward brings her to Trahalor. There's a jolt, and she slaps him hard across the face.

Gustav moves his leg with surprise when it seems like the convict-candidate is about to sit down there with him. He pulls his legs up and gets prepared to move into a sitting position. His eyes switch from Inviere and company back to the anxiously pacing woman. "Hey, Taikrin." He reaches across and pats a part of the cot that's sufficently far enough away from him to not be considered too close to him or anything. And unlike that last time they talked he's not being purposely obnoxious or anything, just kind of concerned looking. Whether she sits though is lost on him for a moment as he hears the sound of slapping.

Warucori is likely the worst liar in the whole history of Pern. She goes pink faced and wrings her hands together, having lost that pink cloth long ago in all the fuss. Lower lip quivering she lifts her chin, trying not to look at anyone directly really, especially not Ivana. Nope.

Trahalor starts to say something to Warucori at her foolish attempt to 'protect' him, and so he's not expecting Inviere's slap. And it's a goodie. His head whips with the force of it and he grunts in the pain of that sting but other than his hands flexing into lose fists, he doesn't do anything. Then there's a small chuckle and with a flip of his hair he looks at her, licking blood from his split lip and meeting her gaze, "what's next Icequeen?" Leaning in just so slightly towards her but without any real malice, more than he wants to see if she's going to act on the letters or report him.

Silarra leans forward slightly at the crack of that slap. "Wow. She might be awful and horrendously pitiful, but she's got a decent slap." Silarra comments to no one in particular. She tucks her legs underneath her, content to watch this play out.

Taikrin glances towards Gustav, temporarily distracted from impending murder by the call of her name. For a moment, she's visibly torn, bouncing on the balls of her toes as she is. But, eventually, sense wins out even if by a hair. The cot bounces suddenly as she drops onto it gracelessly, then continues to vibrate as she taps one leg against the other. "Thanks," is shot towards the other candidate, voice laced with sincerity. "Reckon it'd be a bad idea t'kick his balls through his throat?"

Trahalor does not impress Inviere. Not at all. "Fuck you," she grates out, her face contorted into an ugly red rictus. She turns to address Warucori, enunciates, "And fuck you." And hey, let's not make anyone feel left out. The first tears are spilling out of her eyes, which sweep to encapsulate the whole cavern: "FUCK. YOU." She shoulders her way past Trahalor -- which is to say, she kind of brushes up against him, and he doesn't really notice -- and past Shad, and through the door, and she is gone.

"Real bad idea. Personally, I think we've done enough for the evening." Gustav tells her and puts his hand out, a fist made. To pound it or something. He winces when the first fuck you comes out. Then he really, really winces when she gets really loud and yells it at everyone. He glances at Taikrin and then his eyes sweep back to Trahalor where he stands, landing finally on his goons. "I think I'd like to sleep far away from them for the evening."

Putting his hand to his chest, Trahalor pulls a face of shock, "Hey, will you lookie there. No thanks sister, think we're all getting screwed enough -- thanks." He smooths the back of his hand over his lower lip and looks around the barracks with a 'anyone else want a go', smirking sideways. Seems he's got blood in his mouth, might as well see who else wants to dish some out.

Warucori...weeping like a...a Cori...runs and flings herself into her cot. Baby.

Ivana simply rolls her eyes, and stalks off to her cot too above Saliqa's.

"Shardit." Taikrin's voice is matter-of-fact. "Ain't stayin' here t'watch him." Another grateful look is slanted towards Gustav -- though she doesn't seem to know what to do with that fist -- before she bounces to her feet again and flees the room.