The Flying Mug
The interior of the Flying Mug at first looks innocuous enough, but closer inspection reveals the scars and marks of a much-frequented bar. The tables all match each other, except for the wobbly leg on that one, and the big scar on this one, and the complex patterns of mug-rings on those, and that sleeping Crafter at the one in the corner... The chairs have many of the same problems, except they look much less used. The ceiling of the Flying Mug has been painted to resemble the sky over Ista. The painter must have been incredibly talented too, because he even knew how to make his paintings of dragons look like they were moving. Oh, wait, those are just firelizards. Nevermind. The walls, too, have been painted: small scenes of Pernese life intermingle with portraits and caricatures of famous Mug patrons.
*** WARNING: Please do not leave your objects in the Flying Mug. Pets are allowed, but any personal objects should be taken with you when you leave. Also, if you choose to leave pet your here, please turn off any pet spam. --Thank you, The Mug Staff ***
High in the rafters are seventeen firelizards.
You see Waldo, Tristan, Tippy, Zephyr, and Crimson here.
Sasha, Tatia, and Phea are here.

Bertram
This is a wiry young man, possessed of surprising strength. He's nigh on six feet tall, most of his height found in his torso, but he tends to slouch a bit, his spine relaxing into a lazy s-curve. Limbs are not long, but are well-proportioned, with sharply defined musculature, and he's a bit broad across the chest, witness to not-inconsiderable lung capacity. Soulful brown eyes are his most striking feature, milk-chocolate pools framed by thick dark lashes that would be the envy of any girl. His skin is deeply tanned, all over, probably naturally swarthy, and a thick mat of coarse black hair, neatly shaped, curls tightly against his scalp.
Khaki-colored trousers of a lightweight, finely-woven fabric cover his legs, roughly cut off just below the knees. No shirt is worn, but a wherhide vest hangs loosely over his upper body, its various pockets bulging with hidden treasures. His feet are hardened from Turns of going barefoot, although scuffed and well-worn sandals presently adorn them. Backpack hangs loosely over Bertram's shoulder. Perched on Bertram's shoulder is Dusk.
A single cord in brilliant orange loops once at his shoulder, marking Bertram as a resident of Ista Hold.
Bertram is 19 Turns, 2 months, and 11 days old.

Sasha flicks her hair over her shoulder and motions for a drudge to come over. " I'd like a juice please...tall and cool."

Phea
Elegant bone structure molds a delicately-shaped face, almond-shaped eyes shaded in an aquatic emerald under their curtain of dark lashes and the vuluptuous arch of eyebrows. Her nose is effiminately shaped in the classic length of aristocracy, leading downward to naturally rosy lips of near doll-like proportions. The fair skin of her face is crowned by the faint gleam of rust, copper curls having been tamed into seeming compliance by sectioning them off into close-lying yet distinct rows, each lock separated from its neighbor by a small clip. Not dainty, but decidedly not sturdy either, her limbs are slender to the point of thinness, long-fingered hands leading to near-bony wrists and arms, while small feet round off long legs.
Verdant preforms well in flattering her complexion: upper-half is clad in the typical tunica, neckline high to avoid any unessential peeks of cleavage. Skirts fall in multiple layers of lickable lime -- supported by a concealed belt at the waist -- which fall to just at the ankle. Here, traditional wherhide boots peek out, dusted in numerous materials from dirt to sand. Phea wears Mani's Listening Tube around her neck. Chittering irritably at nothing, nestled 'neath Phea's chin, is Exulcero. Cradled by the platform of Phea's shoulder, sprawled languidly, is Stella. Multi-faceted optics alight with amusement, Risio is curled possessively around Phea's neck. Looming over some stolen morsel hidden 'twixt Phea's hair, is Praedo.
Phea is 14 Turns, 6 months, and 19 days old.

Sasha
Elfin is the only word that can describe this young woman. Her tousled hair, once short and boyish has been allowed to grow until it cascades in long curly layers, as dark as klah at midnight, around and below her shoulders, Lashes as dark as her hair, are long and accentuate startlingly large brown eyes, which are usually dancing with fire and mischief. Soft lips curve in a warm smile, which tell silently of her friendly approachable nature. Standing at a petite 5'3, her body is lithe and slim, with a tiny waist and pale creamy skin. She is as agile as a cat and her limbs are taut and strong.
It is the tunnelsnake skin 'Z' on the back of the jacket that stands out the most on this set of riding leathers. They are a deep royal blue, the much lighter silvery pattern of the tunnelsnake-skin standing out in sharp contrast. With less lining and padding than a normal set of leathers, the jacket and the trousers both cling to Sasha's form, following curves that depict her waist and bust with elegance and grace. The single-breasted jacket fastens with shiny silver buttons, as do the pockets at hip level on either side, allowing them to be secured firmly. The long wherhide trousers are tucked into the ankle-high boots, to stop them from catching on straps, or flapping about during flight. The boots lace up tightly, the ends often tucked inside, and are an even darker shade of blue, almost black, matching accompanying gloves that complete the outfit.
Sasha's shoulders are adorned with her proudly worn knot...a double twisted cord of royal blue and black, with a single loop, threaded through with a misty green ribbon, indicating that she is a fully fledged Rider of a beautiful green dragon, at High Reaches Weyr.
Sasha is 22 Turns, 6 months, and 25 days old.
Sasha has no apparent threadscoring.

Tatia eyes Sasha as she settles back onto her stool, crossing one leg over the other as a shake of her head sends her braid flying back into place behind her shoulder. "Since when does 'juice' count as a drink?" she questions before glancing toward Phea - the overly cheerful, in her opinion. "Ah.. hello?" she replies before tilting her head toward the same drudge Sasha'd drawn toward them. "Don't suppose I can get some good wine here, eh?"

Bertram ducks in from the game room, dark eyes glancing about the tavern somewhat reflexively. Not seeing anyone he knows - why would he? - he slips into a corner booth. A second drudge is flagged down as she steps out of the kitchen, a murmured request made... and he settles back to wait. On his shoulder a deep blue firelizard unlids one eye and emits a curious half-yawn, half-creel, as if he can't decide whether he's more hungry or more sleepy.

Sasha eyes Tatia sardonically and chuckles. " Oh its going to be one of /those/ outings is it? Fine by me!" With a twinkle in her eyes she smiles at the bouncy young girl that just whipped past and the newcomer who has just walked in. " Yeah can that be wine for two please?"

Phea is overly cheerful, and basks in it. Really. After fetching the sandwich, some juice, and a random amount of sweetsticks, she navigates back through the array of stools to chatter with some previously acquainted healer, then treks onward to offer Sasha and Tatia a saccharine smile. "How're ya, there?" Bertram -- a new person! -- catches her eye, and she greets him with a nonchalant "H'lo!" and a congenial nod, since both hands are currently occupied.

Tatia grins, offering a light laugh rather at odds with her usual demeaner as she leans toward Sasha. "You mentioned it, not me!" the greenrider points our as she gives her stool a quick spin. The movement elicts a delighted giggle from the 'rider, even more unusual, and her eyes shine as they settle again on Sasha. "Shards! I have done that in /turns/," she notes with a grin that's then turned on the room at large. "We ought to make them put some in the Caverns." And fortunately for Phea, between the change of scenery, the promise of wine, and the spinning, Tatia's in an unusually good mood.. and she expresses it with a smile that's qutie friendly and words that echo the mood. "Quite good today.. and yourself?" See? Tat /can/ be nice, when called upon.

Sasha takes a slurp of the wine that has just been brought to her and with a smile of thanks she sets it down on the table. " Oooh the stools spin? I never knew that!" with an experimental push she finds herself pivotting merrily on the bar stool. " Oh wow! this is fun!"

Bertram catches a whirl of greenrider from the corner of one eye, turning an amused gaze at the trio near the bar. Sasha's smile is returned with a dazzling display of white teeth against brown skin, dark eyes twinkling, and the young Healer's nod is returned in kind, but he doesn't speak... being rather too far from the others to be heard without raising his voice. At that moment the drudge returns with a tray of food and a skin of wine, and he's saved from further socialization by a well-timed meal.

"Oh, sweets, I'm just /darlin'/ this fine day," Phea coos in an equally affable tone, beaming in that simple, unintelligently jolly manner. Settling her chubby form adjacent to Tatia and depositing her food items carefully on the countertop, she continues with happy oblivion. "A sweetstick for you two? I's got me a couple too many, I say.." All that stool-spinning is ignored for now, as the healer is more interested in being generous to others as well as herself.

What's this? No smile for Tatia? We simply can't have that. Jerking an elbow to nudge Sasha in the ribs, Tatia claims her glass and weaves her way through the tables, simply expecting her fellow greenrider to follow. Phea's offer of sweetsticks isn't noticed.. nor does she get a jab in the side, but judging from Tatia's unsual mood, she certainly wouldn't object to still more company. "Yes, they spin," she intones with a grin and eyes that flash in amusement. "But I did /not/ come to spin. I came for a change of scenery and new faces, 'member?" That said, she stops herself directly in front of Bertram, cocking her head to look down at him. "Mind some company?" Friendly /and/ blunt? Whoa. An unsual combination, for her.

Tatia
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.
Tatia is 19 Turns and 10 months old.

Bertram looks up from his meal, his startled expression quickly replaced with a smile. "Not at all," he says warmly, politely getting to his feet and waving to indicate the all-but-empty booth. "I'm Bertram," he says, with a nod that includes Sasha as well. "Late of Southern, living at Ista Hold now." He remains standing to let the ladies seat themselves, glancing at the unfamiliar knots without comment.

Sasha spins again one more time and then curiosity getting the better of her, she shyly follows her friend and plants herself, wine glass in hand beside her....and looks very closesly at her. Tatia..this friendly? Gotta be a reason...."Hey" she smiles again at the young man, half nervous half amused. "This is Tatia...and I'm Sash." Well somebody had to make the introductions. a grins is flicked to the other people in the bar that she does not recognise.

What's this? Leaving Phea behind? The healer is momentarily ruffled by being payed so little heed, but, as usual, it quickly vanishes beneath all that sweetness. "Dragon-doo, I liked my seat.. bu-ut I dun' wantsa eat alone," is muttered to herself, and she hops from the stool -- foodstuffs in tow -- to go reunite herself with Tatia and Bertram. "Hihi, dearish!" Too bad wine is unattainable (isn't she an obedient little dervish?) by the apprentice; she'll just have to settle for that juice. "An' I'm Phea!" Said girl sneaks into the vacant booth with a gracious smile of thanks to Bertram, careful to spare room for the others.

Sasha grins at the fellow healer...so eager to make their aquaintance. " Hey Phea...Well met."

Tatia has been known to be nice.. once or twice. Really. "Southern?" That bit of information sends Tatia's brows raising as she glances over her shoulder to exchange a glance with Sasha. "Shards, and I thought moving up from Gar was bad enough... I do believe that Southern would be worse." Phea's arrival gets another quirk of her brow.. yes, entirely too happy. Her glass is settled atop the table as she slides herself into a chair, then scoots to leave enough room for both clutchmate and unfamilar healer. "Oh.. um, yes. Well met. I'm Tatia." Nevermind that Sasha already took care of that.. she can speak for herself. Even if she does occasionally have to be reminded of those polite bits of speech most people consider normal. "Hope you're both well.. Phea and.. Um..." Well. She got the 'from Southern' bit. That's close to his name, isn't it?

Bertram smiles warmly, looking at each in turn. "Well met, Sash, Tatia... " - the smile broadens a bit - "...and Phea." Chuckles a bit as Tatia falters on his name, turning to look directly into her eyes. "Bertram," he repeats softly, seating himself again. The creeling on his shoulder becomes a bit more insistent, and he breaks a bit of meat from his own meal to quiet the little 'lizard. "Ista's very like Southern, I'm told," he remarks mildly, "although I've not been here long enough to judge for myself."

Phea waves a hand at Bertram carelessly. "Yep, dear, they both be th'same, I'd say. Y'see, I'm 'riginally from the top 'o Pern -- Bitra, ya know? -- but I's been t'Southern a'fore, and ain't much diff'rent from 'round here." A morsel of sandwich is snapped off and pecked at for a while, before she grows bored with that and devours the remnants of the small piece. "Oh, um, yeah, please t'meetch ya'll, too." Forgetfulness?

Sasha with a chuckle, Sasha becomes more interested. "Southern you say...." she flicks a glance to Tat to see if she has grasped the significance, but no, Tatia is way too caught up to notice. Pulling her braid over her shoulder she begins to idly play with it...a sure sign of shyness. "I love Ista....but only for a break. Living among the mountains becomes addictive after a while." she admires the little blue firelizard as he snatches the meat and a frown crosses her face..fleetingly.

"Betram. Right." Tatia nods, eyes sparkling as they lock on his for a moment, then slide away in search of her wine. She /did/ grab her wine from the bar, didn't she? With a faint smile, she latches onto the glass and slides down into her chair, ankles crossing comfortably under the table. "From Southern." Her head tilts even as she leans back a bit to sip at the wine, and as soon as the glass is again settled on the table, her elbows plant themselves on either side of it. "Much like Ista, you say? I've always thought it was a bit warmer.. but then, I can't say I've spent much time at Southern." Her eyes slide toward Phea, and a slow smile spreads as she watches the girl. "Ah! Used to the snow then, hmmm? Me too.. I grew up in Telgar. Finding Ista a bit strange? How long've you been here?" Sasha gets a short nod and a soft smile for some reason or another.

Sasha shakes her head as she listens to the conversations.." Truth is I don't actually know where I hail from...some people say it might have been Southern but I have no way of knowing if thats true. " She rescues her wine glass from the bar and takes a swig, savouring its fruity bouquet.

Bertram takes the opportunity while the others are comparing birthplaces to snag a bite or two from his lunch, swallowing quickly as Tatia addresses him. Smiling, he shrugs lightly. "As I said, haven't been here long enough to really judge." But snow seems to interest him more, and there's a gleam lighting his dark eyes as he looks back at Tatia. "Never seen snow," he remarks casually, his glance darting to include Sash of the matching knot. "Where did you say you were from?" He lifts the skin from the table now and fills his own goblet, glancing over to see if the others are in need of a refill.

"'Bout a turn," Phea answers mildly, smile resolute even as she dines. "I's prefer th'snow, much better, I do. I lo-o-oved it up atta' Bitra -- a lil' place, 'tis, called Dacia Hold. My mammy an' pappy bred burdenbeasties an' runners an' stuff like tha'." To Sasha, she comments thoughtfully, "Y'remind me of a Southern gal, I 'gree." A swig of juice is taken with practiced ease, before the cup clatters back onto the table. "You like it 'ere at Ista s'far, Bertram? 'Tis a nice place, after y'get used to it."

Tatia is obviously taken aback by Bertram's addmital, and the swallow of wine she was working on nearly chokes the greenrider. "Never? No snow at /all/?" she questions as her eyes whip back toward his. "Shards.. I'd take you up to 'Reaches if we had any right now." Which, by the way, answered his question as well.. not that Tatia's noticing at the moment. "Oh..Sorry. Sasha and I are from the 'Reaches. The weyr, you know." Phea gets a grin that spreads across Tatia's face in a moment of swift kinship. "Why on Pern are you down here, then?" Says the one who moved from Telgar to Gar. Ahem. "The snow's lovely.. even if it does tend to turn the bowl into a pile of mush." And now her gaze swings from both new aquantinces to settle on Sasha with faint surprise. "Really? I didn't know that, Sash." her fellow greenrider gets a studying look, then a nod. "Yah, I think I could see that.. Southern." Because Tat knows /so/ many Southerns. Really.

Sasha's dark eyes twinkle a little as she sips more wine and she regards Phea with a curious stare. " You think I do too?" Turning back to Betram she shrugs. " I never knew my parents, and I was living with a band of travellers. I have no idea where I came from but my home is definitely the Reaches now! " she giggles realising that Tatia has just said where they are from. " One day I'll find out for sure..."

Bertram takes another look at Sasha, nodding thoughtfully without comment. He's still processing 'Reaches. High Reaches, obviously, if he remembers his Northern geography properly. Belatedly he answers Tatia's question with a rueful smile and slow headshake. "It doesn't tend to snow much at Southern." At all, actually. And until just recently, he'd never been any other place on Pern. He pops another bite in his mouth and turns to regard Sasha as she speaks, head tilting as he considers. Swallowing, he ventures, "Travellers.. at Southern? Or in the North?" He tops off his wineglass and lifts it to his lips.

Phea hunkers lower into the booth, as if fearful of the word 'Weyr'. "The -- weyr? Y'mean, wit' dragons?" Shudder. "I dun' like dragons, wit' their sharp teeth an' bigbig bodies an' all that.. scary stuff." Abruptly timid healerlet conceals her face behind the glass of juice, replying to Tatia's question in almost weak tones. "'Cause this be where th'Healer Master sent me'to, yes'm, tha's why I's here. I's adjusted pretty well, m'guess." Still, she refuses to budge from her cowering posture even when neither 'Reachian appears menacing, demeanor looking absolutely childish with that lip-puckering frown. "Travelers? We always a-had lotsa traders and travelers an' such at good 'ole Dacia."

"You simply don't know what you're missing, then," Tatia intones swiftly, sipping again at her wine before sliding still lower in her chair, lips parted to offer some comment in reply to Sasha.. before her gaze whips toward Phea. And remains there, eyes widened, staring. How exactly to respond to /that/? At least the greenrider's in a good mood at the moment.. which means that no noses are likely to be broken.. right? No more comments are offered on snow or Ista.. or even travelers. Tatia's just a bit dumbfounded, you see. "You don't.. /like/.. dragons?" the greenrider finally manages, voice swiftly sliding from cheerful to tight and carefully phrased. Oh, do watch where the conversation's going. Tat's known for rapid mood swings.

A shadow, long banished, flits across Sasha's eyes. "As far as I know I was abducted...I only have the chain I wear round my neck left from thse times...some old woman told me it belonged to my mother. " she pauses...for a second remembering times that she'd rather forget. " They weren't kind..."...shaking off the melancholy mood, she chuckles. " Life sure is better now. And yes you must come and experience the snow Bertram....the views of the seven peaks in winter are quite spectacular...in fact they are pretty good now!" Her eyes flick to Tatia..uh oh....did somebody say they didn't like dragons?

Bertram smiles warmly at Sasha, dark eyes concerned as she tells her story. "Perhaps you'll remember me this winter," he suggests, only half teasing. He finishes the last couple of bites of his meal and gets to his feet. "But if you will be kind enough to excuse me," he says, his expression and tone apologetic, "I've an appointment to keep." Good timing? Perhaps. He nods politely to each in turn. "Nice to have met you... perhaps I'll see you again?" Knowing he'll most likely see Phea again about the hold... but how often do 'Reaches greenriders visit Ista Hold?

"Issa' not tha' I dun' like 'em, see, issa' just.. well.. they kinda scare me." Not only that, Tatia is beginning to scare the mousy Phea as well. "I's didn't mean to offend ye' or y'dragon or nothin', really! Honest! Healers don't lie! M'sorry." Now, the mug wavers, being lifted higher to hover *protectively* in front of her face. Should she start running now? Gulp. "Bub-bye," is squeaked pathetically at Bertram.

Bertram waves and slips out.

Later...

The Flying Mug
The interior of the Flying Mug at first looks innocuous enough, but closer inspection reveals the scars and marks of a much-frequented bar. The tables all match each other, except for the wobbly leg on that one, and the big scar on this one, and the complex patterns of mug-rings on those, and that sleeping Crafter at the one in the corner... The chairs have many of the same problems, except they look much less used. The ceiling of the Flying Mug has been painted to resemble the sky over Ista. The painter must have been incredibly talented too, because he even knew how to make his paintings of dragons look like they were moving. Oh, wait, those are just firelizards. Nevermind. The walls, too, have been painted: small scenes of Pernese life intermingle with portraits and caricatures of famous Mug patrons.
*** WARNING: Please do not leave your objects in the Flying Mug. Pets are allowed, but any personal objects should be taken with you when you leave. Also, if you choose to leave pet your here, please turn off any pet spam. --Thank you, The Mug Staff ***
High in the rafters are seventeen firelizards.
You see Waldo, Tristan, Tippy, Zephyr, and Crimson here.
Tatia, Phea, and Kiriya are here.

Kiriya hrms. "Bitra? Isn't that near Benden? Far away sort of place, that is. How'd you get here?"

"We've got the mountains too, though, y'see," Tatia intones, head tilting as she slides back into the mood she arrived in.. or at least something similar enough that Phea's no longer in danger of ending up bruised. "Which makes the snow much more fun. Sledding and all that." Of course, Bitra could very well have mountains as well, for all Tat knows.. but she's not about to admit that.

Bertram makes his way across the tavern to the counter for a cool mug of juice, nodding a greeting to Tatia and Phea as he passes. Still here, eh? And all body parts seem to be intact... a little smile curves his lips as he turns his attention to the server.

Kiriya rests a hand on her long quarterstaff, which gently leans on the table beside her. "I'm Istan, I think, although my face is about as pale as a northern Hold-dweller's...hn. I don't have any past record of where I came from, all I know is that I was abandoned near the rainforest here as a baby."

"Uh-oh! I's supposed to be studyin', yep.. Well, um, I's'll see ya'll lata'!" Leaving the drudges to organize and clean the edible entries she left -- sweetsticks smuggled from the table, though -- up she hops, twirling out with a beam and flutter of her hand. "Bub-bye, Kiriya! Please t'meetcha', Tatia, an' hi-hi and bub-bye to you, Bertram!"

Phea bounds, with childish glee, through a door into the great hall.

Kiriya waves. "See ya!" She grins. "Well, that was intriguing...

Tatia simply watches Phea's exit with a minimum of enthusiasm.. most likely to make up for the exess the healer displayed. Once she's gone, that gaze shifts to the reentering Bertram, who gets a short waggle of her fingers before Tatia reclaims that glass of wine. "Shards..." she breathes softly. "Some people simply have /too/ much energy."

Kiriya
A young teenaged girl looks at you, a look of wonder in her big brown eyes, which are shielded behind a row of bushy bangs. Her long brown hair is kept back in a slightly unkempt braid that seems to be always tossed over her shoulder. There is a long but faint scar running across her left eye, a vicious-looking testimony to a tormented past. A gentle smile curves across her ruby-red lips, and her thoroughly clothed form hides a curvaceous, slender body.
She is covered from shoulders to feet in black. A long black cloak sweeps over her form, covering a long black tunic tucked into stiff black breeches, cinched tight around her waist with a belt. Her black boots look like those of a rider's, although she has not been one. The material of which her clothing is made is stiff, but gentle enough to move around flexibly.
On her left shoulder is a knot of orange and black, entwined in a single cord and loop, denoting that she is a resident of Ista Weyr.
Kiriya is 15 Turns, 9 months, and 12 days old.

Bertram merely shakes his head as the healer bounds out the door, smiling to himself. Noting Tatia's fingerwaggle, he ventures to return to his abandoned table, smiling a greeting at Kiriya as he seats himself. "Afternoon," he greets politely. "I'm Bertram." Turning sparkling eyes to Tatia, he says, "How lucky you have a free afternoon." Glancing about, he adds, "What happened to Sash?" He leans back into his chair for a long, cool sip of that juice... watching with a rather bemused expression as the stranger walks out without a word.

Tatia shrugs, lifting her hand again to wave toward the door. "Bran," she states simply. "I think she wanted a wash or something... though you'd really think that Ista's sun would be enough." Of course. So says this greenrider, anyway. Another shrug, and she shoves her glass onto the table. "Yah.. there aren't that many of them.. but sweeps have gone easy, this sevenday, and we haven't Threadfall due for the next couple, so..." And still another shrug. Hey, it's better than her glare, which was fast on its way when Bertram last left.

Bertram blinks once, then again, before his brain processes the fact that Tatia's obviously talking about Sash's /dragon/. Of course. His smile is self-deprecating now, as if the 'rider might be aware of his ignorance. "I see," he says, and he almost does. The smile is almost teasing now, dark eyes twinkling. "So why Ista, with all of Pern available to you?"

Tatia responds with a grin nearly equal to that she entered with. "It's warm," she states swiftly, again stretching leather-clad legs to cross one ankle over the other. "'Sides," she continues with a shrug. "It's been ages since I've been here.. and I spent nearly six turns on the Isle, so..."

"Six turns?" Bertram's expression is clearly surprised. "Doing what?" He drains his mug of its juice and returns it to the table with a barely audible thump, smile returning although his gaze remains questioning.

Tatia grins, laughing at his expression as she leans forward. "Studying," she informs him with a wave of her hand. "Or at least, pretending to study." This second admission gets another grin and a shake of her head. "What.. did you think I'd just not existed til Vespurath popped out of the shell? Nah.. I spent six turns at the StarCraft Hall before I went to 'Reaches for good."

Bertram chuckles. "Perhaps Vespurath thinks so," he teases, the twinkle returning. Then he shakes his head. "StarCraft, eh? What was that like?" Maybe she doesn't know, if she only 'pretended' to study.

Tatia wrinkles her nose as she shakes her head swiftly. "Vespurath," she informs him. "Would be much happier if we still lived at the Hall, I'm sure. She's far more obsessed than I ever was." Not that that's saying much, but... She grins as she tilts her head to one side, eyes sparkling. "Ah.. the Hall was.. interesting. Not a whole lot to do.. unless you made things to do." And from the look of her grin, Tat was one of the ones who 'made things to do'. Just because she didn't studying certainly doesn't mean she didn't figure out what was important at the StarCraft Hall while she was there. It just didn't happen to be the constellations or moons.

Bertram smiles, a flash of white teeth against dark skin. "I somehow think the Hall might take exception to a dragon taking up residence there," he says thoughtfully, but the idea of a dragon stargazing definitely amuses him... and bemuses him. With a shake of his head he returns to the present. "You must have been pretty good at making things to do, if you lasted six turns!" Ah, but the grin gives it all away. Trouble on two feet. He finds her eyes again, his own sparkling. What /is/ so appealing about trouble?

Tatia laughs, head shaking as she lifts one shoulder in half a shrug. Her wine glass is regarded for a moment before she discards the idea of another sip and glances at him instead. "What else was I going to do?" she questions, a faint smile playing across her face. "My parents would have killed my if I'd gone home without a decent knot on my shoulder.. and Gar wasn't as bas as all that." Trouble on two feet? Well.. there are certainly some who'd put it that way.

Bertram nods, his eyes locked on hers. "Ah, but you didn't go home, did you?" Or perhaps she did, and with something a lot more substantial than a knot to show for her efforts? He smiles. "So it was your parents' idea for you to be a StarCrafter?" He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs under the table.

Tatia shrugs again. "More or less," she responds, pausing for a moment as she debates how to phrase this. "Mostly they wanted me out of their hair, I think," she continues after a moment, watching him. "And my mam didn't quite think I'd make it as a healer.. that's what both of my parents were. Healers. Anyway.. we decided the StarCraft would suit me best.. and off I went." An amused grin, directed at herself, spreads across her face. "I'm not sure it was the best place for me.. but it got me to 'Reaches twice, so I suppose I can't argue too much, eh?"

Tasia walks in from the dining hall, closing the door behind her to prevent the Mug's noise from spilling into the dining hall.

Bertram chuckles softly. "I don't know about 'Reaches," and why would he? "But I've yet to meet the 'rider who regrets Impressing." The fingers of one hand tap idly on the side of his empty mug. "Even six turns' worth of friends couldn't compare, I'd wager."

Ah, but see, Bertram has yet to meet Vespurath. Of course, despite all Tatia's grumbling and complaining, and even her usual foul mood after a fight with the green, deep down she'd never take back a moment of it. Of course, don't let that get around to said green. Tatia's nose wrinkles for a moment before she grins, eyes glowing faintly of something. "Well, once we got beyond junior weyrlinghood.. and then that dratted restriction.. Vesp and I can go anywhere, anyway. We stop by Gar quite often."

CeNedra walks in from the great hall.

CeNedra smiles shyly as her blue eyes look around "Hello." She seays herself at a stool and orders a drink.

Tasia slips into the mug and looks about. Perhaps looking for someone in particular but...Red head jounces and a bright smile lights up the young apprentices face as she sees all the people. Perhaps she was just lonely.

Tasia looks to CeNedra as she makes her way over to her. "Hello.." she says back and then giggles just a bit.

A faint gleam of... envy?... flits across Bertram's features before his smile returns. Even children learn the risks dragonriders face, why begrudge them the convenience of being able to travel anyplace on Pern they wish to go? But something in Tatia's words causes an eyebrow to lift inquiringly. "Restriction?" Entering people are noted, nodded politely to... but his attention remains fixed on Tatia, waiting for an explanation.

CeNedra smiles, as her eyes light up "Hello, I'm CeNedra, nice to meet you."

Tasia nods "Tasia..nice to meet you too." she hops up on the stool beside her. "So where are you from?"

Of all the words in that sentance to lay hold of... Tatia's expression clouds over for a moment, and she frowns vehemently before straightening a bit. "Restriction," she echoes. With a sigh, she fixes her eyes on his, then proceeds with as breif an explanation as she can possibly mange. "You see.. we aren't allowed anywhere til we're seniour weyrlings.. and we all graduated the sevenday Ista was having a Gather.. so we all came down.. y'know... to dance 'n stuff." And about here is where the greenrider's eyes begin to wander away from her audience and her words beging to blurr together. "AndVespurathcameintheGreatHallandsodidNylanthandhegotstuckandsoweweren'tallowedtogoanywhereelsetilwegraduated." Get all that?

CeNedra smiles and her musical voice says "Pardise."

Tasia purses her lips as she tries to think where that is. Geography is not her strongpoint. She nods "Why are you here?" That probably sounded rude but sometimes she lacks tact.

CeNedra smiles and chukles "Vacation"

Filli walks in from the great hall.

Bertram has been listening intently, nodding at each point... but what was that last bit? "I'm sorry... did I hear you correctly?" He glances to the entranceway. "/This/ Great Hall?" Abruptly he's laughing, a merry baritone ringing through the tavern. "Must've been quite a sight," he says finally, after he's caught his breath. "Say, could I get you some more wine?"

Tasia ohhss "That must be...exciting." Of course she doesn't sound very convincing..maybe it's all the work she's been doing.

CeNedra has disconnected.
CeNedra falls asleep.

Tatia scowls slightly - the better to keep her lips from twitching in matching amusement, you see - and shakes her head swiftly. "It wasn't funny when it happened," she points out, jerking her head toward the hall. "And they weren't nearly as big as they are now..." she trails off, fighting something of a losing battle as one side of her mouth quirks upward into half a smile. "That is.. Yes, this great hall. And that lovely new doorway you have is courtesy of the Kamikaze wing of 'Reaches weyrlings." Now there's a full smile in place, though she still shakes her head. "Oh... no, thanks. I'm on my second.. anymore for me and I'd fall right off Vesp when we tried to go home."

Filli whistles softly as she walks in from the Great Hall. She automaticlly makes her way towards and empty table before sitting down and looking around. "Good evening." she says with a slight nod of her head as she notices others in the Mug as well. Digging her rucksack she pulls out a scroll and unraps it carefully.

Filli
She stands at six foot tall with a lean muscular figure. Her hair is a beautiful raven black cascade that falls to her knees. Her face is thin, but not too thin, with high cheekbones. Her eyes are a stunning jade green in color. Her lips are a deep crimson, while her skin tone is a deep tan.
She wears a deep crimson tunic that buttons up the front with small ruby colored buttons made to fit snuggly to her body. Her pants are solid black with red threaded designs running along either side of the legs shaped like runner galloping, and playing. Her knee high black boots are well polished and supple so to get her free movement when needed. To finish off the outfit a think black weyrhide belt and a necklace made of small round silver beads and a charm with a runner in a rearing position dangles from it.
Filli proudly wears a knot with a double cord, single loop and long tail that denotes her position as a Journeywoman in the Herdercraft.
Filli is 22 Turns, 2 months, and 2 days old.

Bertram chuckles and nods, eyes sparkling. "And a lovely new doorway it is," he concedes, having wondered why it seemed so much newer than the rest of the Hall. How fortunate he hadn't thought to mention his observation to the Lady Holder when he applied for residence. He gives Tatia a wink, unable to resist a little tease. "What? Fall off Between on only three glasses?" Tsk tsk. "And surely you're not leaving so soon?" The entering stranger probably wouldn't have been noted except for her greeting. "Evening?" Hm. Later than he suspected. "Yes, I suppose it is." He gives the woman a smile.

"Not my fault I haven't much tolerance," Tatia intones, shooting him a sharp glance before some unheard comment causes a faint giggle to escape her lips. Most likely Vespurath assuring her 'rider that she'd never /let/ her fall off between. "Hmmm? Me? Oh, course not.. the sooner we leave, the sooner Vesp'll make me tell her story after story," she informs him as her gaze slides absently beyond him toward Filli, though she only greets the girl with a slight lift of her chin - half a nod.

Filli smiles back towards Bertram, "Time passes by quickly don't it." she says with a sligh chuckle before giving a nod towards Tatia, she then returns to her scroll for the moment.

"Yes, it does," Bertram murmurs, getting to his feet again. He flashes another smile at Tatia. "Sorry to have to leave you again." Yes, he seems to genuinely enjoy her company. "Perhaps another time? My duty to Vespurath." He gives a slight bow and starts toward the exit.

"Of course," Tatia intones with a faint incline of her head as she lifts her hand in a wave. "Nice to have met you!" That's tacked on as an afterthought, even as the greenrider reaches for her nearly-empty glass of wine. Her eyes slide to Filli for a moment, then back to the glass.. and then go a bit blank as she shoots some comment or another toward her lifemate, who is, fortunately, still in the courtyard.

You pass through a door into the great hall.