Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Scattered about in various perches and niches are fifty-one firelizards.
Trajan, Sikkyen, and Tatia are here.

Sikkyen waves after Lis, and tenses his muscles, flipping from hanging off the arm of the couch to sitting in a few fluid motions. "I need something to eat," he mutters, and pads towards the table bearing refreshments. A cookie is snagged, and augmented by newly-warmed klah. "I was, yes," he mutters at Trajan. Sik might be very flirtatious, but as going as far as letting a near stranger help remove his clothes -- well, in a flight it would be not a problem. But awkward aftermaths of lust and wet leather he has known. Once bitten, twice shy.

Deep green is lit with a fire that smolders in the depths of Tatia's eyes, flaring now and then into flames. The intesity of her gaze is eased by the faint fleck of gold that mars the iris of her right eye, catching the light at odd moments. Further paradoxes twine themselves through the 'rider's appearance as a pale complexion smooths over a heart-shaped face, offering a stark contrast to the deep, nearly auburn red of hair that hangs straight and smooth to a spot just above the small of her back. On good days, that is. On bad, it flies in unmanageable tangles, and the 'rider has taken to forcing it into a thick plait in the effort to keep it under control. Both her nose and lips tend to be a little on the thin side - she'd call them 'delicate' - but she manages to hide this fact most of the time with either a bright smile or a withering glare. Her stature forces her to look up to most, refusing to give her the height she might want at times, but her frame is smoothly muscled, testimony to the constant activity life with Vespurath demands. Her movements have begun to hold a hint of the unconscious grace of someone who's nearly always moving.
Midnight sky slides down Tatia's frame in deepest indigo to coat her in the warmth of a summer evening. The leathers creep across legs, fitting well to provide ease of movement. Riding jacket is of the same purple-tinged blue, fitting loosely over her arms and fastening with a row of polished silver buttons. Soft fur edges the cuffs and lines the inside, warmth against the biting chill of ::between::. The midnight of jacket is disturbed by the dance of starbursts, stitched at random along neckline and button line before winding around the hem. The shirt under the jacket is simple, of a softer sky blue that speaks of midsummer's day rather than evening. A dipping 'v' neckline leads into cap sleeves, and the hem ends just low enough to slide over hips . Gloves to match the lightness of the shirt fit snugly and tightly, keeping her grip firm. Boots of a shade even deeper than indigo wind their way up her calves, laced up the side for a tight fit.
Cords dance together, one blue, one black, twining in a single loop as each stuggles for dominance. The opposing colors are threaded together with one of deepest, sage-splattered green, a ribbon that proclaims proudly that Tatia is a 'Reaches greenrider.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Tatia is 22 Turns, 5 months, and 20 days old.

Creamy, alabaster skin conflicts heavily with the general darkness that enshrouds this young man -- his paleness gives him a constant look of general craftiness - mistaken for confusion, for some strange reason. Dark, deep occulars are odd colored: on the very rims of his irises, his eyes are so pale they almost blend in with their surroundings -- and then, it deepens into a spiral pool, until the fading into the ultimate obsidian of his pupils -- grey whirlpools, captivating by the mere fact that they truly are windows to the heart. Pale eyelashes fringe those oddities, contrasting demurely to darkened 'brows; near-white complexion combines with these interesting features to give him a fairly strange look. Sleek hair, grown out and trimmed, is ebon in color and long in length, reaching to the tops of his shoulders. Slender and slim, his short height doesn't detract from his image; and he's not a bag of bones, either. Broad shoulders, muscled from days of labor, contrast the narrow of his hips. Deft muscles, wiry and strong, line his legs -- he's lost that look of coltishness for the view of a predator, a pale leopard in lamb's clothings.
Loose /everything/ clads his form, now -- loose trousers follow his form with generous room - with a flare at the very end of their length, loose tunic, loose belt. All are dyed the darked ebon, by the way, with light twirls of white spirals. His hair, instead of being tightly bound back, is allowed to hang -- spiraling slightly at the end, given their soaking. His feet are bare, and slightly wrinkly -- as if he's just stepped out of a bath.
Black and blue twirl about in a double'd cord, singly looped around the badge of the High Reaches -- bound with brown and black threads, showing him to be a stablehand at the frigid weyr.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Sikkyen is 19 Turns and 23 days old.

Glimmering locks of pale hair flutter in featherlike tresses from this young man's head, flickering gently across his eyes and reaching to brush his shoulders faintly. Eyes glitter, palely blue fading into touches of violet at the center like gentle flames reaching outward. Alabaster skin covers the petite frame of the boy, pale as the winter sky and frail in appearance as the very snow. Thin lips curve upwards, shy smile peeking forth to brighten eyes to a glow of warmth which radiates about his entire form. Small and petite, he is in no way made of glass, eager for the outdoors and all the world has to offer.
He wears a tunic of pale sky blue, the fabric clinging slightly to his torso to disappear, tucked into comfortably fitting trousers. Perched on Trajan's shoulder is Gisei.
Trajan wears the knot of a High Reaches Weyrfolk.
Trajan is 16 Turns, 6 months, and 17 days old.

Trajan yawns a little bit, giggling faintly. "You should've gotten the food before you got comfortable then." Seems logical, yes? Of course.

Tatia looks a little damp as she enters the caverns, arms reaching to swiftly unplait the long lenght of hair that's been pulled over her shoulder for the task. Not wet, mind you.. just nicely sprinkled with drops that would likely indicate a rather-too-playful lifemate and an attempt at bathing her now that the water is only cold rather than numbing. Despite the dampness, she's grinning from ear to ear, an unsual sight on this greenrider. Her boots click in a step that even /sounds/ cheerful as she makes her way directly toward the klah, mumuring absently aloud. "No, I am /not/ bringing you any." That to the green outside, of course.

Linora wanders down the long stairway from the crafting area, with the look of someone not quite awake yet--in fact, she's still rubbing sleep from her eyes as she makes her way across the caverns, mostly managing to avoid walking into the furniture as she passes. She gets her eyes open just in time to spot a familiar face, "Hey, Tat." And then she backs herself up to the hearth, content just to warm herself before she starts looking around for something to eat.

Sikkyen quietly observes Tatia. Odd. Happy greenrider. "I probably should have," he sighs. Munching at his cookie, he resumes his old position of half-leaning off the arm of an overstuffed couch. It's hard to sip klah that way, though, but he eventually figures out a way -- and looks very odd doing that. "So, Trajan, where're you from?"

Trajan just..looks at Sikkyen a moment. "Is that even comfortable?" Stare. Oookay. Blink. "Oh..I'm from Nabol, originally." Beam. "You?"

Sikkyen turns his head, dark hair hanging down. He shakes his head - hard, to make it all hang right [cough], before answering. "Yup, very comfortable. Born at Fort, though I come from good Bitran stock." A slight, upside-down nod. "T'least, mostly. My grandmother from my mother's side was from Fort."

Tatia glances up, eyes brightening a tad as the last of the braid is undone and loose hair, rapildy twisting itself into tangles, is shoved over her shoulders to dry more quickly. "Linora?" she questions as her eyes settle on the StarCrafters, and she grabs for two mugs instead of one. "What're you doing here? When'd you get here?" Because with Tatia's penchant for observation, it's entirely possible that she's been here for months and Tat's just now noticing.

Trajan blinks, brows lifting interestedly. "Really? Wow. I know my parents were both from Nabol..but I don't really know much more other than that. Never really thought to ask I guess."

Linora has, in fact, been here for months. She flashes a bright grin at the greenrider, suddenly seeming a lot less sleepy, and steps aside to make more room at the hearth. "I came up with Keris, t'make new charts of the northern skies," she explains cheerfully. "Right at the beginning of winter, I guess it was." And she makes a little face, unable to suppress a little shiver. "Cold up here and stuff, huh?" But she knew that before she'd come. And it's hardly news to Tatia, surely.

Sikkyen arches a brow. "Well, my family is pretty.. tight, you could say. We /know/ everyone." It's more of a clan than a family, really, with the countless cousins he's close to. "And I knew my grandmother pretty well." He yawns, suddenly, and arches his back, laying against the arm, before bouncing back up to sit normally. "Okay -- now I'm dizzy." The young man holds his head, chuckling and groaning at the same time.

Trajan meeps a little, then giggles, shaking his head, and hops out of his chair to move to the couch. "Well then sit /properly/. That might help you know."

Fila arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Sikkyen holds his head. "Me? Proper?" He feigns mock-confusion. "'M not proper. I don't even sit proper." Unless he's on a horse, or -- ahem. "You remind me of someone." The lad turns his head to gaze more intently upon Trajan, trying to place where he's seen him before.

"Beginning of winter?" Tatia questions blankly, expression echoing her tone as she eyes Linora. "Shards... you came up with Keris, and he's been here forever. How have I not seen you around?" The tone of that question is faintly accusitory, as if it's entirely Linora's fault for not seeking her out and tracking her down. Nevermind that Tat's been hibernating. She lifts the mugs, brows lifting in question. "Want some klah?" Yes, folks.. this is Tat offering to get someone else something. Offering.

Trajan blinks a few times, settling himself comfortably on the couch, brows lifted. Blink. "Hm? Who?" Stare.

Skinny and small, the petite girl is practically all bones and odd angles. Soft, black curls bob around her stubborn chin while long lashes cover greenish-blue eyes. A willing smile curves upon roseate lips below a nose that is, perhaps, a bit longer than most; overall, though, the girl has a pleasing countenance, framed by the mass of loose raven ringlets. Her skin is icy pale, save for the few freckles that spot her thin arms and the rosy blush that highlights her cheekbones.
Light pink colors the bulky, generic sweater that the waifish girl wears, created from some sort of soft wool. Alabaster tooling -- nothing special -- is etched across the front, forming random geometric shapes. A simple, ivory tunic peeks out from below the bottom of the sweater, left untucked from the pair of long, wherhide pants, worn soft from much use and probably castoffs from some older child. Contrasting the neutral colors of her outfit, the heavy, striped socks she wears with scuffed sandals are dyed a brilliant myriad of various hues; all, however, are bright and clashing.
She is awake and looks alert.
Fila is 14 Turns, 1 month, and 7 days old.

Sikkyen pauses, and just can't place it. Eyes narrow, and then -- he blinks. "Oh! You were the guy that I passed earlier today." When he was /soaking/ wet, and not just 'damp'. Sik curls a leg up underneath him, and leans against the back of the couch, hands curled about the warm mug of klah. "Hmm."

Trajan rolls his eyes slightly. "That's because that /was/ me! I saw you running off from the lake when I came down there."

Trajan coughs. In wet leather, too.

Sikkyen twitches. "Wet leather doesn't bother me, you know. It bothers /you/ for some perverse reason..." He can't figure it out. At /all/. "Well, Nez and 'Ner left, and the stablemaster would kill me, so.." He shrugs. "I /had/ to run off." Twitch. Plus, if Sik /had/ stayed, most likely he would have ended up modeling. Which would have *not* been good..

Linora shrugs a little, still grinning. "I dunno. I been workin' and stuff. Mostly I'm only down here closer to dark, on accounta I'm up mosta the night lookin' at the stars and stuff... is there tea maybe? Or just some broth?" Still can't make herself drink klah, but she's gotten a bit more polite about it. And since the liquid portion of her breakfast is under control, she slips over to the counter to pick over the sweetrolls.

Trajan blushes. Again. He can't /help/ it. He makes a slight face at Sikkyen. "It doesn't /bother/ me." Bother wouldn't exactly be the word..

Fila tromps in from the lower caverns and spares a disinterested glance for the other people present -- living caverns are always busy, no matter what time. After the young teen ascertains that there's none she recognizes more than vaguely, she sets off on her mission: finding sustenance.

Sikkyen can't help but laugh -- but he covers it with a cough, and takes a draw of his klah. "If it doesn't /bother/ you, then why do you blush?" He turns on the big, innocent-eye act; don't forget that Sik can /act/.

Ooo, Sikkyen is so mean. Trajan's cheeks are quite red by now, the boy turning his head away. "Oh, I dunno, because ya looked good?" So there. See? At least he doesn't get all stuttery when he's embarrassed? Wet leeeeather.

"What are you guys working on, again?" Tatia questions, attention only half - if that - on the StarCrafter. It's unlikely she'll remember what Linora tells her for more than a few minutes, anyway. "Oh! You ought to come up and visit some night.. maybe Vesp would let you tell her stories and leave me be. She's worse now that it's getting warm again. Tatia flicks a bit of damp hair back at that, as if reminded of what other things warm weather means. Like regular baths in the lake. "Hmm? Tea? Oh, I'm sure we can get some.. maybe I'll have some, too. Haven't had tea in ages." Despite her once-loyal following of the stuff. She turns, glancing over the table before beckoning to a drudge and whispering a few things before he scrambles off toward the kitchen.

Sikkyen ponders this for a moment. "Okay. I'll stop fishing for compliments." The young man turns pensive -- as if he's thinking about something far away[or far back in time]. Sipping at his klah, he seems majorly distracted -- by something. And no, it's not Trajan, Fyrspy. Don't get any ideas.

Shaela walks in from the Central Bowl.

Jalisea walks in from the Central Bowl.

Jalisea falls asleep.

Oh, so Trajan isn't distracting? Sniffle. Oh well. The boy merely sits there, color regained after a moment, and pushes a few pale locks of hair behind an ear. "Good." Because the boy would end up the color of a redfruit. Peeeeek. After a moment, he peeks again at Sik, and blinks, brows lifting again. Hm. "You alright?"

Linora never minds answering the obvious question, and doesn't seem particularly bothered by having to repeat herself. "Charts, acourse," she responds brightly, returning to the hearth with a stickybun that she proceeds to pick apart. "An' I'm up on the Star Stones most every night. She oughta come there. View's better." By now she's beginning to notice the blushing boy and the object of his interest, and she's trying not to look too surprised by it. Fortunately, the brightly-clad teenaged girl crosses her line of vision at that moment, and Linora flashes her an almost relieved smile. "Hey," she greets pleasantly, immediately returning her attention to the task of dissecting her breakfast.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Jalisea off to bed.

Tatia sends a quick glance toward the bowl, as if her lifemate may be hovering in the doorway eavesdropping. Nevermind that convenient mindlink that makes it unneccesary. "Shhhh!" the greenrider hisses swiftly, waving a hand to hush Linora. "Don't suggest it.. it's bad enough that we have to sit on the ledge every night and that I have to keep looking up new stories for her. I am /not/ going to the Star Stones, too." With the beginnings of a frown (was it too good to last?), Tatia follows Linora's gaze and offers a slight nod before glancing around for a semi-empty table. After all, food's on its way.

Try as Fila may to deny that she's color-blind, her striped socks often have the effect of having people take her for a liar. "Hi," she chirrups back brightly while shuffling towards a food table stocked with every kind of vegetable imaginable. "Have you seen anything that's not wilted?" the girl wonders, frowning mightily at the selection. "This is all brown."

Sikkyen still looks pensive, though he blinks at Trajan. "Oh, I'm fine. Just thinkin'." Thinkin' about what -- good question. But who's to ask him? His gaze rakes the caverns, landing on the Starcrafter in her moment of discomfiture about him and Trajan -- he holds back a smirk, and eyeballs the Oddly Perky-But-Getting-Back-To-Normal Tatia - then the Fila. Blink. "Odd crowd," he mutters, nearly to himself.

Trajan hasn't seemed to notice any discomfort. That, and his player lost all poses before the computer crashed. ^_^; He merely blinks, glancing out at the crowd for a moment before returning his gaze to Sikkyen, still quite curious. "Oh? About what?" Blink blink.

Linora shrugs a little, still chewing, eyeing the vegetable table warily. "I dunno," she replies after a quick swallow. "Stickybuns are good, though." She holds up what's left of hers, in case a visual would help the girl. Then her gaze wanders back to Tatia, and she completely misses Sikkyen's smirk. "Oh," she says, sounding subdued. "Maybe sometimes, though? It gets kinda lonely up there and stuff."

Sikkyen eyeballs Trajan-Who-Is-So-Very-Cutely-Curious, and glares at Isis-The-Needer-of-Hyphenates. Well Fyria-the-Sikkyen-dunker is her 'pet, so he's not /too/ surprised. "Oh.. Everything. This, that, and the other," is mildly - melancholily? - replied to the aforementioned Trajan.

"Wilted?" Shaela raises a brow from where she stands, pouring herself a mug of klah. Her distaste for the drink is clear, when she takes a sip, but she dispels any thuoght that the klah might also have a problem by piping up, "All seems to be okay over here at the drink table. Perhaps you'll just have to fill your tummy with a warm drink, Fila."

Trajan frowns faintly, looking..almost concerned. Hm. What /was/ the Wearer-Of-Wet-Leather-Sikkyen thinking about? ;P "Everything?" A tiny smile graces the boy's lips, head shaking slightly. "You shouldn't do that. Thinking about too many things at once could give you a headache."

The Fila would have to pick a fistfight if she'd caught the comment about her oddness -- after all, she'd probably assume that it was directed only at her. Happily, she doesn't catch it. She's too busy squinting at Linora's stickybun. "Those are messy," she declares primly, dismissing the suggestion and turning towards Shaela instead. "Wilted," she repeats with a small pout. After heaving a small (but loud) sigh, Fila follows Shaela's advice and scoots that-way. "I guess so." How sad.

Tatia sighs, the sound faint and only /slightly/ irritated as she moves quickly to claim a table as a noisy group of Inferno riders clears out. A jerk of her head indicates that the other two - Fila is included, now that she's joined the discussion - should join her, and she swiftly plants her feet atop an empty chair, legs neatly crossed at the ankles. "Well.. I suppose we could come up.. once or twice," she allows before lifting a hand. "But don't expect us to be making a habit of it!" Fila's treck toward the other table is eyed with a small shake of her head, and she calls after her. "Have a muffin then!" See? Tat can give good advice, too.

Sikkyen stares at the Fresh-Veggie-Wanting-Fila, and blinks at the Klah-Haters [Shaela-The-One-Of-Highest-Rank and Linora-Of-The-Discomfiture]. Sikkyen-Of-The-Wet-Leather gives Trajan-Who-Is-So-Very-Cutely-Curious a slightly withering look. "I don't get headaches," he notes. "Otherwise I would get them all the time."

Trajan shakes his head a bit, brows lifting. "Well then maaaybe you think a little too much. You need to do something to take your mind off this 'everything' you're thinking off."

Legolas arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Evidently Fila isn't any keener on the klah than Shaela is. Her lips still pursed at the bitter taste of the warm drink, she makes an attempt to improve the flavour by adding sweetener. Lots and lots of sweetener. "Evening, everyone," she bobs her head to all present at Tatia's table as she takes a seat amongst them.

Legolas exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Sinead arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Sinead exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Fila perks. "Muffins?" She pivots 'round and regards Tatia with round, hopeful eyes. "Did you say muffins?" Oh dear: you've found Fila's weakness. "What kind of muffin?" Hastily, to forestall an answer, she adds, "Not that it matters. Muffins are muffins are muffins, and muffins are scrumptious." The klah is simply ignored, as is Shaela for the moment -- muffins claim full attention.

Sikkyen smirks at Trajan-Of-The-Rubbers-Associated-Name. "And what if the 'everything' included you? So you /want/ me to take my mind off of you? Fine." Perpetually innocent, he rises, and near-sashays away from Trajan, standing in front of the hearth and pouring himself another mug of klah.

Linora follows after Tatia in a much better humor at the promise of even an occasional visit. "That'd be great," she says brightly, dropping into an empty chair and resuming picking at her stickybun. Which, truth be told, /is/ a little messy. But she licks her fingers very neatly before returning Shaela's greeting. "Hey." She takes a long look at the mug, and then at Shaela's expression, then grins. "Don't help much, huh? Try the broth," she suggests helpfully. Hey, how had she missed the muffins? No matter. Licking the last of the sticky off her fingers, she pulls out her notebook and a writing tool, and is soon deeply engrossed in her studies. Not meaning to be rude, just... distracted.

Trajan squeaks, a bit of a wide-eyed stare following Sikkyen, as the color floods the boy's cheeks again. Drat it! He can't stop doing that! Sputtering a bit, he looks for words. Well, he wasn't expecting /that/. "Well...erm.....not necessarily..." Erf..

Tatia's self-righteous smile is in full force as she settles quite comfortably in her chair and begins the task of finger-combing the dampness from her hair. "I did say muffins.. and I've got several coming.. fresh from the oven, I'm told." Seems the drudge does what she tells him - he's seen her in normal moods. "And tea, if anyone besides Lin and I want some. Who knows what kinda they'll come out with, but..." she lifts one shoulder in a shrug before peering toward Fila. "Who're you?" Well... Tat's always been good at bluntness.

Can't help it.. Do you know...the muffin man?
The muffin man?
The muffin man, the muffin man -- him, of course!
Who lives on Drury Lane?
She's married to the Muffin Man..
Not anyone from here, to be assured.
I'll give you a muffin.
The Muffin Man?
The Muffin Man!
Who says I /want/ a muffin?
She's /married/ to the Muffin Man?
Oh -- who?
Hopefully not Damia.
How about a muffin top?

Violet eyes gleam out from within the dark-skinned face of the petite woman, their deep shade reaching an almost blue-black tone in most lighting. Jet-black hair, defiantly still of plaitable length, is knotted up so as to fit easily beneath a riding cap. Shiny though her hair is, it has a permanent look of not enough washing, due to many hours spent with said cap firmly in place. Bangs frame her indistinct forehead, curling and waving in their unstyled way to fringe on thick 'brows. Black lashes, full and long, match the furried eyebrows. Lips often curved in a crooked smile reveal gaps spacing disproportionate and misaligned teeth.
Scarlet sisal has been cut rather simply to form a simple, unadorned gown. Though it lacks the usual embroidery and and beading that is so prevalent in Shaela's wardrobe, the dress accents all about her that is beauty, and conceals any flaws she wishes to remain unseen. The neckline is set far on her shoulders, and scoops across the chest and back enough so as to hint at flesh, but not so much as to show cleavage. The sleeves are long, hemmed just beyond the wrist, and tight-fitting, as is the bodice. At Shae's narrow waist, the dress flares into an easy, floor-length skirt, swirling and swishing as she moves. Blue Neckpouch hangs heavily from Shaela's shoulder.
Two cords, one blue, one black, intertwine to form a double loop marking Shaela as a Jr. Weyrwoman of High Reaches. A golden thread has also been woven into the simple knot, indicative of the girl's lifemate, gold Chayath.
She is awake and looks alert.
Shaela is 26 Turns and 11 months old.

Sikkyen leans against a random object, and cracks a yawn, pointedly not looking at Trajan -- but following the lingering looks his exotic looks are attracting. All in all, he looks sultrily silent, oddly sleepy, and all together -- very provocative. Very oddddd.

Shaela shakes her head, before trying another sip of the klah. Slightly improved -- her wince is only vaguely noticeable now, and could simply be confused with mild indigestion. "No, I have to drink the klah. It's sort of a... well, I was told it helps you with the uh... you know, if you want to get pregnant," she finishes with a whisper, red-faced.

Well, as long as Sikkyen isn't looking..Trajan will continue to stare. Yup. Staaaare. Brows do lift however, slightly curious about the sudden..erm..provocative change. Yeep. What brought this on?

Linora looks up from her notebook with a surprised expression. "Klah? No kidding. The Garish always say that's what their cider is for. Tastes better too," she adds sagely, with an emphatic little nod. Now distracted from her work, she glances around. Wasn't someone getting tea?

Muffins are simply too irresistable, and Fila harkens to Tatia and her table and the promise of many muffins. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?" she asks spritely after flopping into the nearest chair. "And tea, too!" She releases a blissful sigh: life is good. "Oh. Me. Right. Fila. Miri an' E'ren's kid." The last is added simply as clarification -- people tend to recognize the parents' names, not Fila's. "You're trying to get pregnant?" The teen asks incredulously. And loudly. So much for tact. "/Why?/"

Well, Sab's not old enough to be proddy, and no golds are exuding preflight -- he thinks -- so Sikkyen could be just acting for the hell of it. Then again, he might be... Well, he might be having one of his moodswings, which are somewhat common of the Old Sikkyen. Ever since Fyria dunked him and Nez taught him that bronzes /aren't/ that big and bad and dragons are to be *trusted*, Old Sik's commin' back to the surface. Pregnant swings his head around idly to peer at Shaela. Odd. Who would *want* to get pregnant?

Keanu stubbornly refuses to follow his owner and settles himself on a rug. Glancing almostboredly at the people in the room, he yawns and stretches luxuriously, at last sprawling out on the spot.

"Garish cider?" Shaela raises a brow momentarily, but soon shakes her head. "No, wouldn't do.. it's too far, and it's likely betweening immediately thereafter would ruin the effects. Maybe I'll just have to ask Catia." She wrinkles her nose at this prospect, though, evidently not especially keen on going to the healer with such matters. "Yes'm, that's the plan," Shaela turns to Fila briefly to answer the girl's question.

Trajan opens his mouth, and chokes a bit on his words as his head turns a bit to look at Fila. /E'ren's/ kid? Oh dear. Squeak. He boy just smiles a bit, nearly grinning, and bites down on his bottom lip to keep a giggle down. Goodness, what's gotten into him? Clearing his throat a bit, he peers towards Sikkyen again, eyeing him. "You..feeling okay?" Eye.

Sikkyen pipes up, "We have a good barrel of Gar Cider here," he calls to Shaela and Fila. Oh well, he's been eavesdropping. Then, his eyes sweep towards Trajan, and the lad suddenly looks mellow once more. "Yeah, I'm fine." He sighs, and heads for the couch, dropping back to sit beside him.

Linora doesn't know Miri /or/ E'ren, so forgive her if her smile is a little blank. Friendly, but blank. "I'm Linora. Starcraft apprentice. Well, senior, but that don't really mean anything outside the Hall." She pulls a bit of a face, then the bright smile returns. "Nice t'meet ya." She takes another look at Shaela then, and adds a thoughtful little comment. "Course, it'd prolly be better ifya... /you/ know. A lot. That'd work better'n klah. Or cider."

Trajan blinks a few times, just..looking at Sikkyen as he sits back down, head tilting to the side slowly. "..Are you sure?"

"Course not," Tatia replies instantly, though she doesn't remove her feet to open up another seat. There are other chairs. "That's why I offered, isn't it?" Fingers still combing through her hair, she turns to follow Fila's gaze toward Sheila, and the greenrider's brows fly upward. "You.. want. To be pregnant? Shards.. remind me to stay away from the klah," she notes with a faint chuckle. Right on time, too, as the drudge reappears with a teapot and several mugs on a tray, settled beside a basket that's piled high with fresh muffins of several varities. So fresh that they still give off faint wisps of steam to float upward. "Though I'd think cider'd be bad for it.. wouldn't you? Oh.. Fila. Right." Oh yeah. She /was/ the one who asked the name. "Well met." Nevermind that she should offer a name in return. Things like that tend to slip Tat's mind.

Sikkyen returns Trajan's open look with a level one of his own. "Yeah," he says. "Why're you all of a sudden all afire about me 'being okay'?"

"Oh." Fila's far from cowed, although that's all she says on the subject of Shaela and having babies. It's simply that she's got no more to say. "Cider? Sounds good, but -- but /tea./" She wavers indecisively. "I wonder what it'd taste like if I mixed it." Belatedly, she narrows her eyes at Trajan and awards him a hard look. Fi's easily distracted, though, and she soon turns her attention back to Tatia. "Yeah, same to you and all." Shaela's eyed consideringly. "So if I drink klah, I'll get pregnant?"

Sikkyen notices the look between Trajan and Fila. "What's with that? That girl and you?" He now is Sikkyen-Of-The-Wet-Leather-That-Needs-To-Know.

Trajan smiles, shrugging a little bit. "I don't normally see people switch the way they're acting that fast. Just wanted to make sure there wasn't anything wrong." He peers out at Sikkyen, through a veil of lashes, a few pale strands of hair in his face. "That okay." Blink. "What?" He looks towards the other group of people, blinking quickly, gaze falling on Fila. "Oh...I heard her say that her father is E'ren. I know him.. But..other than that I don'w have a clue.. I've never seen her before."

Linora giggles openly at Fila's assumption. "Sounds like it, huh? I kinda learned it different. I dunno why the Garish say cider helps. 'Less it's the alcohol." She shrugs a little and somehow manages not to blush. Even this far from the hall, there are still those pesky apprentice rules to deal with. So she busies herself with getting a mug of tea. "It'd prolly taste okay," she replies to Fila. "Most anything tastes okay with enough sweetener in it. Except klah."

Sikkyen eyes Trajan. "You know her father." Blueriding father, perchance? A scroll down his mental list of dragonriders informs him that he's a /greenrider/, and he jolts. "Oh. A greenrider sire? Wow. That's rare." A glance to Fila, then he shrugs, returning to a previous topic. "Moodswings," with a distracted wave of his hand.

"Well, it's a little more than just drinking klah, Fila," Shaela promises, trying to keep the smile of a snicker from her still-red face. "And L'shil and I are quite up on making sure the other happens. We're just looking for a way to ensure things happen sooner than later." With a shrug, she downs another swig of klah.

Tatia leans forward to reach for a muffin, which is quickly broken into smaller pieces as Tatia abandons her hair to the tangles. "I should hope not," she replies to Fila. "Otherwise I'd be pregnant several times over. It's all a bunch of nonsense, if you ask me. Just stop with the green stuff, and..." She smirks, gaze shifting toward Shaela as the goldrider speaks.

Trajan smiles, nodding. Cough. Yes. Greenrider. Whee. "E'ren's great! He's very nice...though he did promise to take me to see the dolphins sometime. We havn't done that yet." But then, the boy hardly ever sees the rider anyway. Ooh, moodswings. "Mm, I have those sometimes.."

As long as it's not an insult, Fila's satisfied. And besides, there's more important things to be doing than figuring out why random people do funny things when she mentions who spawned her. Like figuring out the connection between klah and kids. "I've had klah before," she mentions. "When'll I get a kid? Because, you know, I haven't had one yet or felt funny or anything, and it's not to say that I really /want/ a kid right now..." She trails off and awards Shaela a thankful grin. "Well, good." Muffins! She leans forward to procure one quick as can be.

Sikkyen rolls his shoulders. Greens are good. Bronzes are still a bit evil -- except for Nez, of course. Nezdarvyth is... awesome. Sik's one of his minions. Yup! "Moodswings suck," he idly comments.

Keanu discreetly rises and makes his way to under a table with klah on it. Perhaps a crumb or two will come his way sooner or later. in the meantime, 'nu patiently licks his paw and purrs contentedly.

Trajan blinks a bit, then quite promptly giggles, nodding. "Well, yeah. It doesn't happen with me too often, thankfully." Nope, normally he's happy all the time. Better than being gloomy, no?

Sikkyen resists the urge to tweak Trajan's ears. Or chin. Or nose. Or -- something. Relaxing into his 'Han-Solo-esqe' mood, the young man smirks. "Kid, I doubt you even *know* what moodswings are like."

Linora giggles again, abandoning her work altogether now. "Maybe it'll keep you awake so's there's more time to practice," she guesses, fixing a sparkling gaze on the goldrider as she reaches for a muffin. Really, there's only one way to get pregnant. Linora is quite certain on this point.

Seilyn comes down from the workrooms above.

Trajan blinks a bit, promptly scowling at Sikkyen annoyedly. Huff! "I am /not/ a kid!"

Sikkyen smirks bemusedly at Trajan. "You're a kid, kid."

Here's lookin' at you, kid.

Seilyn has disconnected.

"Hopefully not for a long time, for all our sakes, Fila," Shaela's still trying desperately to hold back the giggles, which isn't doing much for setting her skin colour back to normal. "We'll see. I'll keep trying with this klah thing, and yes, of course, no green stuff, and see if anything kicks in. The other thing I heard was that you could eat a certain type of flower.. found somewhere near Ista, I think it was, before a flight, you'd get pregnant from the flight. But there's never guarantees with those as to who the father'll be."

Trajan narrows his eyes a bit, grumping. "I am /not/. And I don't appreciate being called such. I'm not a child." Huff. So there.

Sikkyen smirks s'more. "I didn't say you were a /child/. I said you were a kid. Big difference... kid." He can't handle himself. He can't stop it. He takes perverse pleasure out of seeing Trajan narrow his eyes. See? /NOW/ Trajan is a distraction.

"What, you think that I should start having kids?" Fila questions around her mouthful of muffin. "Maybe I will." The scary part is that this is said straight-faced and seriously.

Trajan reaches out....and promptly pokes Sikkyen. Poke! Glare. Eyes remain narrowed, shadowed blue nearly appearing violet. "Don't call me a kid. I'm not."

Tatia's brows lift sky-high. "I would have thought there was enough sharding chance of that /without/ eating the flowers... Everytime the sharding dragon gets it into her head to start glowing, you don't have much say in the matter," she points out with a bit of a glower toward her poor muffin, which is shredded even more. Eyes widen a bit more at Fila's words, and she studies the girl doubtfully. "/Why?/" she questions, equally straight-faced.

Sinead arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Seilyn off to bed.

Sinead goes home.

Sikkyen ducks from the poke -- and turns that into jumping up on the couch, then clambering up onto the /back/ of the couch. "Hey! Everyone! Let's.." And his eyes devilishly gleam at this point -- "Have a party!" And he completely deflates, hopping off the back of the couch to the floor, rolling up his nonexistant sleeves and beginning to rearrange the tables for ample 'dancing space'.

Miria skips (complete with silly grin) in from the Central Bowl.

Shaela isn't nearly so calm and collected as Tatia. Perhaps Shaela just has a bit more of a natural tendency to freak out -- or maybe it's that she knows Fila's exact age of 14. "I think you shuold definitely /not/ start having kids," she says with a sharp tone, the corner of her mouth twitching while she pauses to breathe. "You are by far not old enough, and what would your mother think??" /Breathe/. Twitch, twitch.

Trajan just...looks at Sikkyen. Stare. Blink. Staaaaaaaare. "Wh..what?" Party? Squeak?

Linora follows the pregnant-flight-klah conversation, wide-eyed, nibbling at her muffin. But the bellowing Sikkyen distracts her (and probably everyone else), and she turns to stare at him, not even realizing that she probably has the exact same shell-shocked expression on her face that Trajan does.

Sikkyen could just cackle at this point in time. "C'mon, ya'll, ya aren't /that/ brain dead. Most of us didn't get to Kh'ryn's party last night -- so, lets have one of our own!"

Or maybe Tatia just doesn't see much difference between dealing with Shaela's kids and Fila's. Kids are kids, you see. Shaela is eyed with lips that lift into a faintly amused smile, and one shoulder lifts to shrug as she states... "I don't know. Maybe she /should/." Ah. /There's/ the normal Tat. Watch the fun. "I mean, we've had 'riders Impress young... and they have flights, aye? What's the difference?"

"But.....but we don't have decorations!" Trajan pouts slightly. Those are /important/ you know! Sniffle.

Miria sidles cavern-ward, klah mug in hand, filled to the brim, and... "Party?" Oh no, her 'act like a complete weirdo' switch is on (as if she isn't one already) now. "Ohhh, there can always be one without decorations, you know."

Sikkyen shrugs. "Who cares? We--" An beam of approval is bestowed upon Miria, and he shoves the final table to the corner, making a rather large, spacious 'dance space'. "We can dance. And have no decorations." He pauses. "Do we have a harper in our midsts? Or a singing-inclined resident?" He's hopeful. Very hopeful.

"Well, yes, but don't you think...?" Judging by Tatia's expression, thuogh, Shaela is fairly certain that the greenrider doesn't share quite the same opinion as herself regarding Fila's proposal. "Nevermind. Fila, you should talk to your parents abuot this, I think," the goldrider recommends, perking now at the suggestion of a party. "What for?" she inquires, already calming.

Trajan sloowly gets to his feet, fingers brushing at a few errant strands of hair in his eyes. "Dancing? Well...I guess.." Hey, he likes dancing...

That certainly gets Tatia's attention - it's been her weak spot for Turns. "There's to be dancing?" the greenrider questions, glancing first at her table companions before shifting her sharp gaze toward those suggesting it. "Fabulous! Have a harper?" Yes, she's been paying attention. Really.

"Why not?" Fila simply shrugs at Tatia and continues to munch away at the fastly disappearing muffin. "You mind if I have another?" she politely inquires, eyeballing the remaining muffins. "Aw, Shaela, why not?" She pouts. "I'm plenty old enough. And my mom probably wouldn't care at all."

Sinead arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Absently, Fila also points out, "I doubt my dad'd care at all, either."

Sinead sweeps in, looking for some hot klah and a relaxing seat, but, no, that's not going to happen. So, what does she do? Look for the nearest familiar face, and that could be a lot, so she moves to the nearest guard. "Hey Miria."

"So do it? Nothing stopping you, it seems," Tatia states with a slight smirk and a quick shake of her head. "No, go ahead.. I'm done if there's dancing to be had, anyway."

Miria chuckles. "Eady! Heyla!" She's in quite an uplifted mood, now...

Fila's probably right on that, but Shaela's not going to admit it. "I think it's important that you discuss these things with them," she says with finality, before turning her attention to the dancefloor-to-be. Hmm...

Sinead finds her way to the nearest pitcher of klah and fills a mug full of the stuff, the former guard then finds her way back to Miria. "How have you been? Haven't seen you in awhile," nod nod.

Linora scoots her chair a bit closer to the table, just in case it--and she--might fall victim to the floor-clearing operation that seems to be underway. Well, maybe the dancing will distract everyone from the baby-talk. Fila does seem pretty young to be thinking about having kids of her own. But don't ask the holdbred crafter.

Trajan hurries over to the food table to gather himself a piece of fruit, making sure to stay out of the way as space is cleared. Nope. He doesn't wanna get run over in the process.

Miria chuckles. "Well, thank you."

Sikkyen quietly observes his progression of the dance floor, and gives a miniscule nod. He pulls a hide out of his pocket, scribbles something on it, and returns the hide to his pocket. Odd. He bumps his way to Tatia, and looks keenly at her. "You know a harper," he half-states, half-pleads. The rider /should/, in his infobase. "Don't you?"

Miria has disconnected.

It's fortunate for Sikkyen that his bumping into Tatia was followed rather swiftly by a question she wanted to hear. The sharp glare sent up toward him lasts only a moment before she nods swiftly. "If there's to be dancing, I'll get a harper." Whether she /knows/ one or not.. she can certainly threaten them into coming down. She rises with a swift grin, rather too bright for the same face that bore a glare a few seconds ago, and weaves her way easily through moving tables and chairs. "Be back!" she calls cheerfully over her shoulder, directing that toward her tablemates.

Sikkyen grins. He was right. Good! "Okay, now." He beams at the other 'tablemates', and then a sly on back at Trajan. "Well, it looks like we'll at least have *dancing*."

"I didn't say that I actually /wanted/ it," Fila points out with a hurt expression. "Geez. Like I want to tote around a whiny, dribbly baby. I've got better things to be doing with my time." Like eating muffins. A hand snakes out to snag another while the other fashions a wave for Tatia.

Trajan nibbles on the redfruit as he watches people run around, then blinks, peering at Sikkyen again with a bright grin. "Well that's good. Dancing is fun!"

Sinead continues with her mingling, twirling about the living caverns, playing a good little candidate, just so long as someone who's in charge of something doesn't see that white knot sitting on her shoulder.

Sikkyen surpresses a smirk. "Is that a hint?" he enquires of Trajan, smothering yet another grin.

Linora watches as Tatia leaves, then lets out a relieved little giggle at Fila's last comment. "Good choice," she says brightly, reaching for another muffin herself. Now how much time can she waste before her mentor summons her upstairs and back to work?

Trajan blinks. "No!" Wait a second.. "Well I" Gahh.. Blush. He frowns a bit at Sikkyen. Horrible person. Head turned, he promptly takes another bite from his redfruit.

The housekeeper arrives to cart Miria off to bed.

Sikkyen is hurt. Mentally damaged for turns to come. He was implied as a horrible person?! From a person he's beginning to adore?! I doubt the young man will /ever/ get over this one. Sik simply grins devilishly after Trajan -- "Where'd this shy person come from? I want the guy who was willing to strip me of my leathers." A brow quirks, he grins, and moves to shove another table back.

Shaela has, at this point, dismissed all talk of babies, determining it better for her chances of conceiving should she not allow herself to be overly stressed. "Personally, I'm a stickybun fan. You got any there on that plate?" she inquires, unable to see from her vantage point.

Tatia reappears after several minutes, bring two very sleepy and very sullen harpers with her. They may be following, but they don't look happy about it. They stop in the entrance to the caverns, eyes blinking as one runs a hand through his hair and the other rubs at his eyes. Tatia turns, flashing a grin before sliding back toward her former company. The harpers glance at each other, muttering softly before taking up chairs in the corner. One sings his gitar around, absently plucking at strings to check their tune, while the other settles a small drum into his lap and gives it a roll for practice.

Trajan blinks a bit again, brows lifting, and then gives Sikkyen a sideways look, sloooowly grinning. With a faint giggle, he calls after him. "You 'want'?" Smirk.

Sikkyen contemplates dragging Trajan to a groundweyr right then and there, but decides against it. He reminds himself - wet leathers and lust.. or even just dry leathers and lust can create some serious awkwardness. Besides, this one's cute, but -- like he's said -- a bit young. "Yeah, I want," Sik calls over his shoulder, shaking his head ruefully and giving the table a final pat. "I think our dancing space is nice and.. spacious. Whatcha think, madams?" A glance to the ladies sitting at the table.

Sinead exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Fila shoves the rest of her muffin into her mouth and, through the crumbs, tells Shaela, "I don't see any." But that doesn't mean that there aren't any. It's been yet to be decided if Fila has good vision. Up she jumps with a flash of those horrible socks, and she saunters over towards the two men as her opinion -- presumably, she's included in the 'ladies' -- is sought. "Yeah. Dancing's nice." Not that she knows how to, of course. The hints of a smirk tug at her lips, although she does her best to keep her expression completely proper and solemn and all that. And there simply isn't a trace of mischief in her tone as she addresses Trajan, either. "Although if there's to be dancing, then I think that you should give me your first dance, Uncle Trajan."

Trajan grins a little after Sikkyen, then blinks, eeping a bit as he finds a Fila next to him. Oh dear. Blinking rapidly, he looks at her, then beams brightly, nodding. "Sure!"

Sikkyen looks startled, and stares from 'Uncle' Trajan to Fila. With a rueful shake of his head, he spins on a heel and seeks out the Starcrafter -- the one who was so very uncomfortable watching his and Trajan's aimless flirtings. "Ma'am -- if I may be so bold as to request your first dance of the night?" A playful grin causes dimples to grace his cheeks through the stubble, causing him to look even /more/ the mischeivious rogue.

Fila looks severely put out. And here she was hoping to get a good reaction so she could tease Trajan and her own father mercilessly for Turns to come. However, now that her request has been granted, Fila can't very well back out. So she just mumbles some sort of ambivilent response while scowling at the ground.

The harpers are warming up even as the dancing partners are, and the sound of sour notes moves gracefully upward into pleasant chords as strings are tightened into tune. The gitarist gives his eyes one last rub before his head bends over his instrument, and suddenly a dancing riff rises upward as fingers pluck over the strings with lightening speed. Showing off? Likely. A smirk is given to the other harper, who responds with a lifted brow and a drum roll that promises lively dancing. A quick bob of each head, and then the music takes off together, working in harmony rather than challenge. Let the dancing begin!

Trajan just smiles at Fila happily, head tilting a little to the side. Hah! see? He /likes/ to dance. He's got no reason to say no. He peers at the scowl, brows lifting upward. "I don't bite or anything ya know. You don't /have/ to dance if you don't really want to."

Linora turns in her chair, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around the back of it, the better to watch the proceedings. She hasn't decided yet whether dancing is a good idea, but the music is nice. And Fila's pronouncement elicits yet another giggle, which fades abruptly to a slack-jawed gape as Sikkyen abruptly approaches her. "Um... sure?" She drops her feet to the floor and manages to stand more or less gracefully, a warm smile lighting her pale eyes.

Sikkyen beams at the near-transformation of the Starcrafter. He snags her hand, gives a glance towards the performaning harpers, and pulls her out onto the dance floor. Automatically pulling her to him and arranging his hands in an artful positioning for the fast dance, he waits for the beat to catch up with his rhythmic tapping toe, and starts leading. Buahahaha. The young man's graceful, quick, and nearly just a joy to /observe/ dancing. Thankye, grandmaw-from-Fort, for teaching him to dance.

Fila is quick to transform her visage from something unhappy to something better to look at; a temper tantrum is perhaps a little bit out of place just because she didn't get the reaction she was going for, and Fila isn't stupid enough not to realize that. Instead, she coughs. "Um, right. It's just, you know..." She pauses, then confesses more quietly, "I don't know how to dance."

*Er, make that: Fila's smart enough to realize..

Tatia has snagged herself an innocent bluerider from some corner or another, and the pair is quick to spin into the improvised dance floor to the beat. Nevermind that it looks more like she's dragging him along than that they're /dancing/. Tat's got enough talent - and enthusiasm - for the both of them.

Sinead arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

With the music having commenced, Shaela decides to forego the stickybun in favour of kicking up her heels. Savouring the chance to dance with a partner who doesn't step on her toes who has a sense of rhythm, she approaches a shy bluerider named Ch'e, known for his dancing skills, and drags him out onto the floor.

Trajan grins brightly as the music starts, and shakes his head, latching onto the girl's hand to pull her towards the dance floor. "That's okay! We don't have to go as fast as the music. Just don't step on me." Beam.

Sinead makes her way back into the cavern, having heard the music from where she was. The candidate moves off to the side to watch the dancers on the floor and simply, well, sits.

"Well..." Fila looks plenty unsure of herself, but she can't really back out without losing face, and that's simply not an option. So, breathing a epithet in an undertone, she simply allows herself to get pulled after Trajan. "Fine." She'll probably step on his feet just to be contrary.

Trajan reaches his destination of 'dance floor', and stops, turning, and properly places his hands where they should be. He grins at the girl, nodding. "There's not much to it at all. Really!"

Linora manages to follow, despite really having not much idea what she's doing. Sikkyen seems to know enough for both of them--it's really all Linora can do just to keep up; she doesn't even really have time to notice the artful positioning of his hands, or his proximity. But it is kind of fun, isn't it? As they whirl by Tatia and her blueriding partner, she flashes her friend a bright grin.

Tatia returns Linora's grin with one of her own as her partner finally picks up his feet and the two fly around the floor, picking up speed as they go. Evidently they aren't bothered by the lively, but still moderate pace the harpers are giving.

That doesn't mean that Fila won't be stepping on his feet. She's a brat in the fullest sense of the word. Since she doesn't have any more muffin in her mouth to speak around, Fila takes to munching idly upon her lower lip and mumbling around that. "If you say so." Doubt seeps into her tone, and she sneaks a quick look down towards her feet -- rather, Trajan's -- so she can know where to stomp when the time comes.

There's no room for chatter on the dancefloor if you're keeping up with the beat, save the occasional yelp of laughter or gasping breath. And with a good dancer such as Ch'e, there's little need to talk. With a skillful embrace and practiced step, he leads Shaela around the room, swirling and twirling her to the harpers' music.

Trajan nods a little bit, glancing down as well. Hey, he doesn't want to accidently step on a misplaced foot! Grinning, he laughs and goes with the music, moving with it easily.

Evidently one fast-paced spin is too much for Tatia. She stops suddenly, torn between glaring at her partner, as if to blame the entire thing on him.... and running for the bowl with a rather nauseous expression. She decides on the latter. Odd that one so accusomed to a good dance should be so bothered by it.. but then, no one ever qualified Tat as anything but odd. The harpers continue, music floating through the crowd.

Tatia exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Fila looks utterly jealous of Shaela, whom she spies while peeping over Trajan's shoulder. She can dance. And besides, Ch'e's dreamy. Fi shuffles along, completely clumsy. Little by little, she just turns redder and redder; it's practically a given that she'll be hiding in a corner once the song finishes.

Ch'e /is/ dreamy. However, he's also old and not at all interested in girls.. or females in general. "Whoo!" Shaela yelps as that particular tune comes to an end, and a moment is given for the dancers to breathe before the harpers start in on another equally lively tune, this time with a vocal line depicting a rather humourous tale of a weyrwoman, a cook, and a missing batch of cookies.

As the first song winds to its conclusion, Linora politely extricates herself from Sikkyen's artful grasp with a murmured apology. "Thanks for the dance and stuff. I really prolly oughtta get t'work now, though." She looks around, confusion evident on her open face when she can't locate Tatia, then gives the others a quick wave and slips out.

Trajan stops, letting go of Fila with a smile, beaming at the girl. "See? That wasn't so bad at all. You dance very well." See? He's nice.

Just Fila's luck. No one's interested in nice young girls who try their best to stomp on people's feet anymore. And, by the way, the end of the song provides the perfect time for her to aim one at Trajan's toes. "I dance like a herdbeast," she corrects, scooting off without waiting to find out if her stomp connected or not.

So many tunnels, so little time; you opt to head across the cavern and up the long broad stairs into the rooms above the lower caverns. Working rooms, these, filled with busy little crafters.

Mellow> Linora opts for broad stairs that lead up to the Crafting rooms above the inner caverns.

Mellow> Sinead listens to the end of the song and sips at her klah, watching the people conclude the dancing for this song.

Mellow> Trajan makes a little yelping noise, bottom lip bitten hard. Ow! Hey! He doesn't say anything to Fila though, eyes a bit wide, and shuffles away to sit down.

Mellow> Fila is completely satisfied: mission accomplished. The new quest entails stealing another muffin -- the last one -- from the platter and traipsing off towards the lower caverns before someone else should dare ask her to dance.

Mellow> Shaela is fairly certain of who the song is about, and so is Ch'e, as evidenced by their doubling over in laughter at one particularly incriminating line. With a pat to the bluerider's back, Shaela thanks him for the dance, but makes it clear that she'd best be heading out for the time being.

Mellow> Shaela exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Mellow> Fila steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.