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-eight firelizards.
You see OOC NOTICE (look sign), White Clay Egg Pot, Thief, Slink, and Bandit here.
Daeyn, Lorsalia, Sinead, Lhana, Rianna, and Fyria are here.
Rianna peers up at Lors. "What'sa party? Can I come?" She giggles and pulls a sweetstick out of a hidden pocket in her dress and reaches out to slip it into Lorsalia's hand, almost as if smoothing the way. Hmph! Children these days, /already/ know how to bribe! She smiles up at Lors, a bit confused, but overall happier than sin.
Lorsalia bounces in her seat now, her long braid of pink and blond plaited hair jumping on her back. "It's gonna be in my weyr and it's only for /girls/. And y'all can come, yup." She nods, grinning, then beams at the sweetstick she finds in her hand. "Hey, you can come to, 'Anna! Yajisarath's gonna be there and she said we can paint her talons if we want. But it's gotta match her hide."
Lhana turns to blink at Daeyn. "A runner?" Blink. Blink. "Aeron's going to buy a runner. He went all the way to the Herder Hall." And he said he'd let her use it, too. Beeeam. At Fyria's remark, she headtilts. "We do? Maybe he shouldn't have gone all that way, then..." But that thought is gone with the wind as she is invited to an all-girl party. "Really? That sounds fun! I'll come." Nodnod. Forget long, boring end to long, boring day...it's party time!
Daeyn looks amused. "In fact, I suspect the stablehands - and one in particular - would be happy for your aid, Lhana," she suggests. "Paint ... talons?" Intending to keep quiet, she can't quite restrain that startled question. She chuckles softly. "Have fun," she advises the girls with a suspicious note of matronly amusement.
Fyria tilts her head sideways a bit, pondering the thought. "Well, if Yajisarath doesn't mind providing a lift, Lors...sure!! Wait.." She disappears briefly into the caverns, returning with two small pouches. "These.." and she jiggles the pouches "...may come in handy, eh?" Yes, they're beads. Perfect for braiding into one's hair.
Rianna giggles and pulls out another sweetstick which finds its way into her smiling mouth. More candy comes out and she passes it out to everyone whose hands or laps she can reach. Good thing Sinead and she raided the kitchen stash, otherwise she'd have nothing to bring to the party!
Linora slips down the stairs from the crafting area a good bit more quietly than usual, still rubbing sleep from her eyes as she makes her way to the hearth to dip out a mug of steaming broth. "Hey everyone," she greets one and all, without looking to see who that might be, and drops rather heavily into a chair at an empty table --remarkably without spilling anything on herself.
Lorsalia picks up on the other conversation and offers to Lhana, "If you want, you can ride my runner sometimes. Her name's Tarma. She's kinda little. But I don't get to visit her much 'cause of Yajisarath." Lors used to be an avid Runner-Girl when she was young. Then came her dragon. She finishes the last check on her list and stands, eyeing the packages again. "Okay. Are all y'all going to my party? It's in my weyr. I borrowed lots of those special glow baskets with flowers cut into the shades and colored films in 'em. And Yajisarath said she'd let everyone climb on this time."
Sinead nods as she listens intently to Lorsa. "I'm in," she states with a grin. "Sounds like fun."
Lhana turns around to regard Daeyn curiously. "One in particular?" she echoes. What does she mean by that? But wait - it's time to go. Nodding, she stands and prepares to follow. "Actually, Aeron said I could ride his, so I don't think I'll need to. But thank you, anyway." And she smiles charmingly. A little wave is sent Linora's way, and she takes a nice sip of klah, looking about busily. Everyone coming?
"There was a stablehand in here earlier that seemed ... quite upset, all things considered," Daeyn explains, stretching absently. "In any case, enjoy yourselves, girls." She closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair with mug in hand again.
Fyria tucks the pouches into a pocket...somewhere...and nods at Lorsalia. "Need help carrying anything up there?" She finishes her mug, depositing it on a passing drudge's tray, and walks back over to stand near the table. "Pink talons, I presume, eh?"
Linora has no idea that everyone's even leaving, curled into that chair sipping her broth, so she misses Lhana's wave as well as the implication of her invitation. Even if she'd caught it, she'd hardly assume she was expected to join a group of complete strangers for some unknown purpose. It'll be a little while before she's even actually awake.
Lorsalia shakes her head to Fyria as she begins to load the things. "Nuh-uh. She says the pink talons would clash with her straps. Maybe golden yellow or green or something." The rider shrugs, then points to the rest of the packages- they aren't many in number, but enough so that it's awkward for one person to carry them all. "And I'd love if you could help! Yajisarath's going to wait for us next to the lake." The last part is spoken more loudly so that anyone who cares can hear.
Sinead snickers. "Guess that's that, huh Fy?" She enquires as she nods. "I'll help," meaning she'll grab a package or two and go, yup, isn't she helpful.
Lhana sets down her klah and clasps her hands behind her back, hoping they'll appear too occupied somehow for her to have to help carry things. She's never really been one for carrying things she doesn't have to, after all. "Ooh, I've never painted dragon talons before," she remarks excitedly. Or any other type of talon, for that matter. "This is gonna be fun!"
Daeyn turns away from the cheerful fluttering and conversation of the girls to direct a nod to the arriving Linora, mug lifted in a vague reflection of a toast. "Good day," she calls. "Do you know any of these women?" This with a nod to the cluster around. If Linora's merely sleepy, far be it from Daeyn to keep her from ... the party of her life?
Fyria gives Linora a rather cheerful wave, somewhat oblivious to the half-awake state of the woman. "Hello, hello.." Deftly, she snags one of the packages, making a face. "What in Faranth's name is in here, Lors?" Prolly the one with all those bells, as evident by the noise the package is making.
Rianna skips forth and wraps her hands around the tiniest of the packages. She gives a tug and nearly topples herself. "Lors? D'you have a smaller one? I wanna help!?" She looks mournfully over at Lorsalia and sticks her sweetstick back in her mouth.
Lorsalia giggles at Rianna and hands her the package of ribbons. "There! Just make sure you don't lose it, okay? It's important." With everything settled, the rider steps away from the table and leads the way towards the doors to the bowl, chattering all the way about how much fun they'll have and how Yajisarath's been so nice and pleasant and happy and not begging for baths as much since she Flew. Not that the nonriders really care. "Ohoh! I just remembered! When T'am stayed in my weyr a few days ago, we accidently ate all my special cookies, so the pink klah ones with the rainbow sprinkles are all gone now."
Sinead offers a smile Rianna way as she picks up a package, one of the heavier ones, and heads out after the rider. "Aww, no klah cookies?" She'll live, but she's allowed to whine...
Sikkyen walks in from the Central Bowl.
Rianna happily scoops the bag of ribbons into her hands and tags along at Sinead's heels. Poor Ead's gotten herself a new canine, appearantly. She giggles and makes childish happy sounds as she skips.
Lhana follows the others out, happily package-less, and smiling pleasantly at Lorsa's talk about Yajisarath. At mention of no cookies, she just shrugs. "That's okay." She doesn't eat them, anyhow, most of the time.
Linora blinks as she catches Fyria's wave from the corner of her eye, looking up in time to see a parade of people and packages headed for the Bowl. With a shrug she gets up and goes to refill her mug.
Sikkyen whistles a short melody, as Sabeicea alights his shoulder with a regal aire.
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, the shock is so mercurial. Dark, deep oculars are odd colored: on the very rims of his irises, the coloring is so pale that it almost blends in with the surrounding white of his eye -- and then, it deepens into a spiral pool, until the fading into the ultimate obsidian of his pupils -- grey whirlpools, carrying flecks of a color just shy of quicksilver - 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 contrasting, interesting look. Sleek hair, grown out and trimmed, is ebon in color and long in length, well on it's way to mid-back length. Another oddity plagues him, in the form of blue highlights - streaks varying from a single strand of hair to a thick, long lock; colors varying from the creamiest pastel azure, to the electricity-bright ice blue, to deep navy - and back again. Slender and slim, his short height doesn't detract from his image - he's no bag of bones. Broad shoulders, muscled from days of labor, contrast the narrow lines of his hips. Deft muscles, long, strong, and thick, line his legs Definitely, he's lost that look of coltishness for the view of a predator, a pale leopard in lamb's clothing.
Leathern, tan breeches hug his waist, skin-tight until below the knee, where they disappear altogether; the tops of high boots, dusty and mudsplattern, have the ends of the fawn trous tucked neatly into them. A thin, braided black 'hide belt holds his breeches up, and a similarly braided thong holds the ends of his shoulder-length hair back. Chest would be bare, but a similarly natural-oil, skintight tunic clads him, with an overcloak of solid ebon - which appears to hug his form, even still. Yes; Sik's leathers have returned. Perched on Sikkyen's shoulder is Roi. Perched on Sikkyen's shoulder is Hynerian. Perched on Sikkyen's shoulder is Nerf. Perched on Sikkyen's shoulder is Sabeicea.
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 and looks alert.
Sikkyen is 19 Turns, 8 months, and 7 days old.
Honey-blond tresses, sunstreaked with platinum highlights, tumble heavily to a spot just above her hips, although her hair is generally worn in a single thick plait down her back. Short in stature, girlish in appearance; nonetheless she has a look about her pale blue eyes that's old beyond her Turns. Set in a warmly tanned oval face, they remain her most striking feature, more for the odd gleam that lights them than for color or shape. Full lips are just a fraction too wide, quick to warm her distant expression with a genuine smile or merry laugh.
Linora has finally resigned herself to cooler weather and got some warmer clothing... Soft flowing skirts of deepest indigo flow over her hips and legs, hemmed just above her ankles. A thick woollen sweater, cableknit in a fisherfolk pattern and dyed a brilliant shade of lilac, covers her upper body from neck to hips, too-long sleeves often slipping down to cover her hands. And the final indignity, thick woollen socks and solid shoes of sturdy wherhide cover her feet - but rest assured they'll be kicked off at the first opportunity.
Red and silver, royal and black -- four cords form a single loop at her shoulder, with a small tail to denote her status as StarCraft Senior Apprentice posted to High Reaches Weyr.
Linora is 20 Turns, 3 months, and 5 days old.
Fyria just sorta follows everyone out the exit to the bowl. Lucky Yajisarath. She gets to play taxi. Mwah.
Lorsalia exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Lhana exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Sikkyen wanders in idly, glancing as everyone.. leaves. Snuff. Just his luck, it is. He collapses on a chair, and looks slightly mournful.
Sinead exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Rianna exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Fyria exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Daeyn is still here, however ... though she may not comprise part of everyone, merely being an elder-statesman - stateswoman? - of a brown draped in a chair with hands in her lap and a mug of juice lurking ominously by her elbow. An old fuddy-duddy, by anyone's reckoning.
Tevya arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Tevya exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.
Linora makes her way back to her chair with a fresh mug of broth just as Sikkyen collapses nearby. She jumps just a little, at first thinking maybe he was headed for the floor instead of just a chair, then she manages a little giggle. "Hey," she greets, sort of recognizing the guy who danced with her that weird day in the caverns. Which weird day? She's losing track.
Sikkyen blinks at Daeyn. Just.. blink. A shake of his head, before he rolls off the chair. Thump. Peering upwards, under a braided lock of raven-and-cerulean inspired hair, he nods at Linora. "Hi," is greeted, as he drapes himself randomly over the floor. A drudge tsks, and he just looks innocent. Yeah. Sik, innocent, in the same sentance. Hack.
Daeyn blinks at Sikkyen as well, cocking one eyebrow and regarding him with barely veiled skepticism. "Are you ... quite all right?" she inquires, sipping at her juice. A faint grimace fleets across her features as she realizes that it has warmed considerably.
Yumi arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Linora stops in her tracks as the man falls at her feet. Um. "You okay?" she asks--the obvious question, of course. Nevermind that someone else already asked it. And she shoots the brownrider a quick grin, then offers Sikkyen a hand. To help him get up, of course. Don't ask how she's remained unspoiled after nearly a Turn at the Weyr. Hiding in the crafting area, more likely than not.
Sikkyen dimples at Daeyn. "In the mind or body? A bit scratched up in the latter, and.. nobody has figured out if I'm right in the mind." An innocent beam, once more, and he grins up at Linora, waving her hand aside. "Thanks, but this is comfortable." A grin. Now, all he needs are animals to cuddle with. Or Traj. Hack. "Yuminess!" is called out in a sing-song voice. "Check it out!" He cranes his neck up from his spot at Linora's feet, gesturing to his hair. In tiny braids, small black and blue beads adorn the end, giving him yet another odd look.
Daeyn nods to Linora in passing, letting the mug drop from her fingers ... somehow managing not to break it in the doing. "Hmmm. I think I can answer that question fairly easily: do you think you're right in the head?" she returns, rising after a moment to gather up her mug. She blinks at the sight of beads braided into the boy's hair. "I see ..."
Yumi breezes into the Cavern heading straight for the hearth. Having served herself a snack she turns back looking for a place to park herself. Moving toward an empty chair she nods to those she knows. That done she turns her attention to the young man on the floor. "Sien! That came out quite well..." Blinking quickly she asks, "What are you doing down there? Or should I not ask?" Too late now..
Linora drops her hand in confusion, then shrugs and goes to sit down, glancing up at ... Yuminess? Wow. Maybe she'll just hide in a corner somewhere. With her broth. "Is anybody?" she murmurs, a sort of rhetorical question in response to the 'rider's question. But she didn't say it very loud, so maybe people will ignore her and she can fade into the woodwork until the stars come out again. Hopefully it'll be a clear night..
Sikkyen pauses at Daeyn's words. "Well, now to think of it.. I really don't know." A pondered thought, and he gives a happy-go-lucky shrug. "Whaddya think, Yumi? Am I right in the head?" Then, a pause. "Didn't it?" A grin. "Oh, I'm.. down here.. because I want to be down here?" A managed, articulate shrug. "Humm."
Daeyn smiles slightly. "Only the crazy people," she answers Linora, just catching the mumble ... more the shape of the syllables than the definite. "No, no ... it comes down to your perception. It's the ones who think they are perfectly sane that are the ones to beware of."
Sikkyen has disconnected.
Sikkyen falls asleep.
Yumi smiles, then looks around the cavern again. "I suppose you're normal for Reaches..." That's not saying much, though..everyone seems to be a little off. Waving to Linora, she adds, "By the way my name's Yumi." Rolling her eyes at Sien she laughs.
Linora has actually noticed that about High Reaches, when she does venture away from her lonely post on the Star Stones or her workstation in the starcraft area. But she does hear the introduction, and she's quick to respond. "Linora, Starcraft apprentice. Nice t'meet you." Boy, was /that/ an automatic response. Because everyone she's met so far has been pretty scary.
Daeyn adds into the mix, addressed or not, "Daeyn, rider of brown Anwyllth ..." She sighs faintly, stretching as she goes to pour herself more juice. The cold of High Reaches notwithstanding, the newly-filled mug is pressed against her forehead as if to cool herself now. "Normal for High Reaches. Ominous statement, that."
Yumi smiles, shaking her head, "We're not all like Sikkyen. He's um, special." *cough* It would be boring if everyone were the same, no? Besides, who wants to be normal. Nodding to the brownrider, "Well met Daeyn."
Yumi goes home.
Linora blinks as Yumi abruptly disappears, hunching just a bit more in on herself. "I kinda noticed," she says wanly, pale eyes lifting to regard Daeyn almost timidly. Will it /get/ weirder today, or is it safe now? "I just came here to chart and stuff."
Daeyn is more or less safe, most of the time. "To the living caverns?" she inquires softly, arching an eyebrow as she returns to her seat. "Or I take it you mean High Reaches?" Fingers are drummed absently along the side of the mug, a staccato pattern.
"High Reaches." Linora starts to relax a little as this begins to seem like a normal conversation. Nobody coloring their hair weird colors or lying on the floor for no apparent reason. "Mostly at night I'm up on the Star Stones and stuff," she adds, by way of clarification.
Daeyn nods once. "Sounds like a better place to be at night than down in the caverns, most of the time," she observes with a shake of her head. "How long have you been here, may one inquire?" An arched brow adds to the words.
Wiry and lean, her form is as streamlined as mercury, the lines of corded muscles and sparse curves melding and melting into each other. Lithe and elongated, she must stand over six feet tall. Her face glows light golden beneath its soft sandalwood tan, as if lit by some inner incandescence. Her pale blue eyes are of disconcerting lightness, sharp and keen. They leap out like beacons in a face composed of high arches and angles ... a face stark and faintly mishapen that is further marred by the outline of a deep knife-scar across her left cheekbone. Sunkissed mahogany tendrils curl about her features, escaped from the tight braid that falls to midway down her back. Dark, thin brows expressively accent her expression, though her face tends towards the hidden neutrality of a mask. When she speaks, her voice is even blended between alto and tenor, cool and androgynous.
A full tunic of deep lavender sisal, sleeves cuffed at three-quarter length, falls comfortably about her, worn quite loose but obviously tailored to her comfort. A single tie of complementary darker hue fastens at the neck, and matching trim lines the base of the shirt. It falls to mid-hip, hiding the top of fitted deep green trousers - obviously the lower half of riding leathers - that in turn disappear into crease-worn but polished obsidian boots. Perched on Daeyn's shoulder is Cytherea.
A flash of opal and gold catches the light and illuminates the ring on her finger. Always on, it is thus - like the one who gave it to her - never far from her heart.
Daeyn is 26 Turns and 25 days old.
Linora's usual friendly smile returns to warm her features. "Just about a Turn now," she replies, unable to hide her relief. "The project was... /is/... to make a new chart of the northern skies, one for each season, really."
Daeyn nods once. "New chart? Has something changed in the skies as to make the old one inaccurate?" she wonders, curiosity evident in her voice as she pauses with the mug only inches from her lips. This is just the sort of thing she eats up.
Linora's eyes widen with earnest enthusiasm. "Well, only the stuff that always changes. Stars move and stuff, even though it takes a long time t'notice. And planets too, of course. And the charts for the northern skies hadn't been updated in quite a few turns, on accounta you haven't really had an active starcrafter up here in a while."
Daeyn purses her lips in thought as she absorbs this, nodding slowly. "How fast do they change? Wouldn't ... the chart just be inaccurate as soon as you finished it?" She frowns slightly, attempting to digest. "That does make sense, though I confess I hadn't noticed our lack."
Linora shakes her head. "It takes Turns for the changes to be noticeable, really. Except the planets, which change all the time, only they have orbits and stuff so you can kinda predict where they'll be. But sometimes new stars form, an' old stars burn out, and you never really know when something like that might happen. You could watch every night until Thread fell up an' always see something different." Hence the attraction, apparently.
Daeyn leans forward on her elbows, sipping absently at her mug of juice. "I see ... I think. But do the orbits change as well?" Her head tips to one side. "How can you tell when lose an old star or gain a new one, though? There are so many of them, I can't imagine counting every glow of light in the sky." She has no compunctions about admitting her ignorance.
Linora grins. "Well, that's what the charts are for," she says, brightening as she warms to the topic and wakes up a bit more. Circular argument? Perhaps. Try talking to her mentor sometime. "You can look and compare from Turn to Turn how things change... and we really pay most attention to the most visible stars. So if suddenly there's a real bright one where there never was before..." She lets the thought trail off as if the conclusion were obvious. And, well, it is... to her. "Anyhow, most of the major stars are grouped into constellations, so it's real easy to pick out the shapes and patterns." Provided the viewer has any clue what he or she is looking for. "And orbits change a little, but they're mostly predictable in the way they'll change. We watch 'em anyhow to make sure nothing really unexpected happens."
Daeyn's brows tilt downwards for a moment as she ponders this. "I think that makes sense," she murmurs. "If you divide the sky into patterns and shapes ... I see." She nods to herself, surprised when she reaches the bottom of the mug once again. "I'd never really thought about how much there is to keep track of," she admits. "You've given me something to chew on, Linora ... thank you. But I need to get back to work now," she concludes reluctantly.
Linora nods quickly. "Me too," she agrees, pausing to gulp down the rest of her broth. "It'll be dark soon, an' I gotta get my notes together and stuff. But it was nice talking to ya..." She hesitates only a moment, then grins. "Come on up to the stones some night ifya want to see what I mean. Only do it soon. On account when winter comes, I get to go home." And there's no question from the girl's expression that this is something she looks forward to. Not running away, but going home.
Daeyn flashes a brief smile, a moment's surprise in her gaze. "I will ... I'll make a point of that. Thank you ... it was a pleasure to talk to you." She inclines her head in a quick nod and is shortly gone from the caverns.
Daeyn exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.