Star Stones - Saturday, February 06, 1999, 6:14 PM -------------------------------------------------- (Stub) Main Living Cavern (Stub) (Stub) The careless glitter of rose quartz reflects and refracts the light from within its bed of granite, each beam bringing a new shifting, a new subtlty of sight. Rows of long trestle table are seated in orderly awareness under the carven vault of the ceiling, centered around a great dais upon which sits the best-made one; this, too, shows the roughness of the others, but a roughness smoothed by time, and accented by the complexity of beams that show Turns-taken tesselation in their upward arch. Neither tapestries nor coverings mar the marbling of wild beauty, leaving unadorned grandeur that in naturalistic simplicity provides comfort to the occupants of the cavern. (Stub) One archway, the only covered by a drape of black and gold, shields the entrance to the bowl from the blow of sand; another, almost unobtrusive, marks the entrance to the lower caverns through a short, winding and uncarefully-carved tunnel. (Stub) (Stub) Perched somewhere up high, you see Sangria, Skully, Chiranjiv, and Wherryheaded Gutless Sack. (Stub) Lynnea and R'il are here. (Stub) Isabella, Nalarken, Catiri, G'tar, Tisee, Tala, Yodge, and Tiska are asleep here. (Stub) From here you can go: (Stub) Bowl Lower Caverns Infirmary (Stub) Stub has arrived. (Stub) You pop in from ::between:: (Stub) R'il shrugs slightly. "I never said I didn't like you, but some questions shouldn't be asked. So, what's been made today?" he asks as he examines the rolls. (Stub) Gucci has arrived. (Stub) Gucci struts in from ::between:: (Stub) Lynnea shrugs, "The usual. Herdbeast, wherry, bubblies. Whatever it is you like, I'm sure you can find something." (Stub) R'il nods slightly, piling wherry onto his plate. "You're in a cheerful mood," he comments, adding some gravy. (Stub) Lynnea shrugs, "If you think so. How's Ysaeth?" (Stub) R'il laughs. "Antsy. He's asked for three oilings, four feedings, and a leather changing. He's been wanting for some attention." (Stub) Eos treks in from NorthWest Bowl. (Stub) Lynnea tilts her head, "Why? Don't you spend enough time with him?" (Stub) R'il shakes his head. "Nah, it's just sometimes he wants /all/ my attention, /all/ the time. Hey, Eos," he greets while adding some mashed tubers to his plate. (Stub) Lynnea says, "Oh. Well, he probably has his reasons, I expect." (Stub) "Mmmm.. it is so warm in here, out there, /everywhere, don't you think?" Eos inquires as she languidly steps from the bowl; fanning herself with a make-shift fan, the goldrider instantly scans the room, hawkish eyes traipsing over each and every figure. Not a single person is missed in the curt inquiry, even the drudges assiduously examined as she continues to trek forward. (Kohath) NorthWest Bowl (Kohath) (Kohath) A shelter from the stronger desert winds that strike across much of the rest of the bowl, the original founders of the weyr found the lee a suitable location for the most active area of the weyr. A gaping stone awning provides covered protection and suitable sunning space for the occupants of the dragon infirmary. Shallow steps lead into a recessed entrance to the guest weyr. A much smaller entrance leads to the living caverns. (Kohath) (Kohath) The following dragons are here: Spectreth, Delennth, Sivadath, Nevanth, Aeoliath, Murath, and Ysaeth. (Kohath) You see Paint here. (Kohath) Feyena, Mel, and Leigha are asleep here. (Kohath) From here you can go: (Kohath) Living Cavern Infirmary Center Bowl (Kohath) Guest Weyr Stairs Up Weyr Entrance (Kohath) Ysaeth uncurls himself from one position, only to recurl himself in another. It's just one of those can't-get-comfortable days. K'den slips lightly down the chocolate curve of Kohath's shoulder to the ground. (Stub) Lynnea looks over to Eos, "Yes, Ma'am. Has something to do with being in a desert, I believe." Kohath bouncy-bouncies the moment his rider is free of him, narrowly missing Ysaeth's tail and blundering into Aeoliath's flank before he finds /just/ the right spot wherein to sun. Full of himself today, he is. Main Living Cavern Perched somewhere up high, you see Sangria, Skully, Chiranjiv, Wherryheaded Gutless Sack, Stub, and Gucci. Lynnea, R'il, and Eos are here. Isabella, Nalarken, Catiri, G'tar, Tisee, Tala, Yodge, and Tiska are asleep here. From here you can go: Bowl Lower Caverns Infirmary (Kohath) K'den walks toward Main Living Cavern. R'il smirks at Lynnea's little comment. "I would have to agree with her, Eos," he responds, hefting his plate and toting it to a table. "It's not like Telgar around here," he adds, stating the obivous. It's... 8:30 on a sixthday, and K'den shuffles in. No old men making love to alcoholic beverages, unfortunately, so he can't continue with the pun. Instead, he murmurs an absent hello to the cavern at large, and heads to the food table to relieve it of a muffin or two. (Kohath) Ysaeth eyes Kohath's display, before mimicking his movements, stretching languidly but shaking himself silly at the end. Eos all but purrs her response, cranberry-hued lips veering into a crafty, determined smile. "Why yes, lovely Lynnea, that would be it, wouldn't it." Always trust cooks to give to obvious answer. "It is so hot though.." she maintains her complaint, fan brushed against her face as she swivels to see both K'den and R'il. /Males/. "Oooh, I didn't see you there, you lovely, handsome bronzeriders." Terrible, truly terrible. The skyscraping form often identified as M'del, brown Guccith's rider, sways its way into the darkness of the cavern. The rider's clean-cut, unrealistically picturesque visage sends the more frivolous lower caverns women all-aflutter with titters and whispers; the man tosses a flashingly dimpled smile their way before nodding to the other rider, and sketches a bow to Eos. (Kohath) Sivadath sleeps; oblivious and unconcerned with the activities about her, the queen simply /sleeps/. Lynnea raises a brow at the 'lovely'. "The obvious answers are usually the best. Now, had we been at High Reaches, and you complained it was cold, perhaps something more... Creative... Would have been in order. But alas, we are in a desert." K'den lifts an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder. Last he'd checked, Kohath was brown, but... given Kohath's obsession with Sivadath lately, he's not entirely surprised. "Hey, Eos," he greets, minus any extra formalities. She's his /friend/ before she's a Weyrwoman; can't shake first impressions. "Sivadath added anything interesting to her collection lately?" R'il looks up, and cautiously eyes Eos' and her unusual tone. Peering curiously at the miner, he eyes her movements, and decides that she's behaving more like Chine the bluerider than Eos the goldrider. Best not to pay attention, especially as a slow flush stains his cheeks. Ducking his head, he returns to his meal, his nice, safe meal. All this chatter and over-indulgence of the heat makes one thirsty; in Eos' case, it makes her hungry - for dessert. "Lynnea," the goldrider spontaneously pivots towards the cook, coquettish wink given to the girl, "Could you possibly arrange for a delicious plate of dessert for me? - Your choice?" K'den hmms, munching on a large bite of muffin. "Be careful what you wish for, Eos," he murmurs with an amused wink to Lynnea. R'il swallows another gulp of klah before picking at the dried streak of paint on his hand. He really shouldn't go out of his weyr looking like a mess, he abruptly decides for the umpteenth time. That settled, and once his stretches out his legs, he resumes consuming his meal. Ignoring proddiness is the best thing to do in his mind. Lynnea ponders that a moment, and gives a wicked smile, her first for the day, "My choice, you say?" Eos's fingers, quivering with apprehension, slink instantly to her hips, endowing her with a determined, near-seductive demeanor. "You choice, lovely." She purrs again, side-stepping to reach K'den within a matter of moments to whisper towards him, "Maybe I'll wish for something else.." Smiling -- beaming -- at this, her interest turns towards M'del and R'il. Ooooolala. Lynnea smiles sweetly, "I think I have just the thing that will fit your mood." She stands, "I'll be back in a few minutes to give it to you." The hunger goblin has made itself known in M'del's stomach; he's currently involved in selecting a course to sate it. Onto his plate he piles the choicest of greens, fingerroot, cress, oh, a splendid salad he concots, and tops it off with a few bits of wherry. One must eat healthy to retain such a perfectly sculpted figure. Lynnea walks toward Lower Caverns. K'den coughs, turning quickly for a glass of juice before he chokes himself. Wish for something else, indeed... wouldn't Kohath just jump at /that/. R'il's interest is firmly fixed on his plate, however, filled with all sorts of unhealthy food. He will /not/ look up, almost scared of what he might see. Lynnea walks in from Lower Caverns. Lynnea wanders back in. She carries no food, but HAS added a brightly colored ribbon and bow to her wardrobe. She saunters towards Eos, grinning impishly, "We're out of sweets..." She offers a small plate of butter as she gets closer, "But how about a buttered crumpet?" And what a /large/ salad it is; maybe what they say about the size of your salad is true? Eos, however, is disinterested in the healthy, beneficial attributes of a salad: she craves the unhealthy taste of dessert. However, as Lynnea returns, she receives a /different/ kind of dessert: "Ooooh, are you for me?" M'del almost chokes on his redfruit bit, dreamy blue eyes widening at the sight of Lynnea... and Eos. Guccith's restlessness doesn't hurt, either; a slow, measured swallowing bobs his Adam's apple. Lynnea nods, smiling, "It's the sweetest thing I could think of on such short notice..." Only because honey is too sticky. K'den sputters into his glass, trying not to spray his drink everywhere. Butter... now there's an intriguing thought. R'il can't help but look up after /those/ comments. Crimson flashes over his face as he watches the two women. What's an honest, holder boy supposed to do? Go find Sidhe and have her dump ice water on you? Butter is such a practical condiment, useful for /any/ situation. "Oh, Lynnea, you are just so -" Eos pauses, insidious smirk pitched towards the surrounding riders, " -- /sweet/. I'm sure that /I/ could put this to good use." Her latter statement, said towards the men in the room, is more insinuative than anything else. Lynnea smiles, winking saucily, "I am, as always, at your disposal, weyrwoman." Or just look away. R'il can't seem to manage that right now, though, as brown eyes remain firmly fixed upon Eos and Lynnea. Food is even forgotten, fork drooping in his hand, as he stares at the women. K'den will just sit down for a while... yes, right over here looks like a good spot. Kohath's chortle of amusement from outside is assiduously ignored. Sheesh. Weyrwomen get all the luck! M'del's mouth is practically watering as his eyes flick from cook to queenrider; poor boy, with that salad in front of him, and buttered strumpe- er, crumpets before his eyes! Eos's lips form into a mock kiss towards Lynnea, the butter gingerly taken from the tray as a shrewd wink is given to the girl. "And that's why we love you so." One finger, then, raises to pluck at the ribbon, more so to arouse the men about her. "What would happen if I -- /pulled/ -- this ribbon?" M'del's jaw would hit the floor and his eyes would pop out, that's what would happen. Lynnea chuckles, "It would come off, leaving just the present inside to be removed from it's wrapping..." R'il would probably die a slow death. Or at least he feels that way. So, calling on that inner strength, he tears his eyes away from the women and back down to his meal. K'den swallows, lifting his unfortunately now-empty glass to his lips to ease his suddenly dry throat, but doesn't seem to notice that there's nothing there to be had. The images Kohath is coming up with aren't helping. Mahlia walks in from NorthWest Bowl. As if admiring some unobtainable, invaluable object, Eos inches back several steps. "Mmmmm.. mmm" Emotions fluctuate, as do her interests as she suddenly singles out the males again. "Would anyone care to /help/ me unwrap my present?" Quinta registers graceful, lightly-stepping gait with sensuous sway of curvaceous physique, tread directed purposefully in from NorthWest Bowl. K'den will just... sit. Right here, thank you. Wild runners would be hard pressed to get him to move anywhere soon. As if Lynnea and Ayana haven't teased him /enough/ about his... err, dragon... Mahlia smiles as she lookss around, knowing everyone but R'il and Eos "Hello" Lynnea glances around, and her eyes light on her favourite brownrider, "I bet K'den would. Kohath always has such interesting thoughts on such things." G'tar has connected. (Kohath) Aeoliath wakes up from his nap. (Kohath) Pralanth lifts his forleg so that J'avia may dismount, carefully helping her to the ground. "I'm always at your disposal, weyrwoman," murmurs the throaty bass of M'del, his brawny arms folded across his chest as he blatantly ogles the pair. J'avia strides in from NorthWest Bowl. K'den hehs weakly. "Maybe, uh, Kohath should help, then." R'il would. /Wouldn't/. That's /wouldn't/. Again, brown eyes try to stay planted on his meal, but as ever, they stray towards the weyrwoman and her..cook. Ayana quietly makes her way in from Inner Infirmary. J'avia strides in looiking around for something or someone, but apairently what ever it is isnt here. She grimaces slightly and spies Eos, she'll do, Javi is starved and didnt stop off at home before running her errand after a quiet sweep ride, "Weyrwoman?" Quinta stumbles. That's right, she stumbles; a not at all graceful, mincing pace, both hands extended halfway outward for balance. Eyes lift, and she spots the cook: "Lynnea!" No, really, you didn't hear any particular /affection/ in the middle of all that muddled confusion. G'tar enters, a skip and a hop away from downright jovial. Peering across the room, the bronzer has no idea whatsoever what he's stepping into, and thus makes his way directly toward the cook and Eos. With a crisp clap of hand, he grins. "So. What's cooking?" A glance left, a glance right. Clueless? Mahlia giggles a bit at G'tar's comment.. Lynnea what's cooking ha! Anyway she plops down next to K'den "Hey" she waves to all the people she knows. S'wing walks in from NorthWest Bowl. R'il can't quite believe G'tar just did that. No, he can't. So, he actually chuckles, and even relaxes a touch. Proddiness isn't all bad, afterall. More people - more willing participants; enlivened by the gathering crowd, Eos' emotions nearly overflow, her insidious smirk a permanent fixture upon her features. "Oh, will you help, M'del?" purrs the goldrider's voice, one hand generously waved towards Lynnea. "Lynnea, darling, do you mind?" K'den crosses one leg quickly over the other. "Hey," he murmurs distractedly, reaching blindly to one side for a refill of his mug. Redfruit, the stuff of life. Or at least something to hide behind. J'avia grumbles and glances out to the bowl, exiting the way she came. S'wing swishes in, her hips swinging -- Pun intended -- back and forth with every step. Until she trips over a dropped mug. Uff. "Hi, um, everybody." J'avia strides toward NorthWest Bowl. Lynnea smiles slightly, "If that is what you desire, Eos, who am I to object? After all, who you choose to share your dessert with is hardly the concern of the dessert..." She beams as Quinta enters, "Hello, Quinta!" Ayana looks about, watching everybody with silent repose, "What's...oh hi K'den...Lynnea...how are you two doing?" (Kohath) Aeoliath rumbles softly in the deepening trance of sleep, not quite edged toward dream, not quite awake. Behold the tail. It slithers, quite on its own. Laih shuffles in from NorthWest Bowl. Eos wants to share her dessert with everyone at this moment; however, she's got a tad bit of dignity within her, despite the proddiness that lurks within. "Oh good - M'del, come here.." demands the goldrider, lively sky-blue eyes restless in their pursuit for male companionship. "Oooooh, G'tar - you look charming today. Come to play with us?" R'il shakes his head slightly, and silently thanks his own lifemate for his inability to be proddy. Fork is once again picked up, and meat is shovelled into his mouth. (Kohath) Sivadath continues to sleep, the occasional rumble and twitch of tail's trident hinting of the emotions just /waiting/ to unfold upon those about her. (Kohath) Kohath is wide awake and sitting like a watchful Sphinx, jewelled eyes alternately shifting between the cavern's entrace and his lifemate's most amusing predicament, and the slumbering golden lump that is Sivadath. G'tar raises a brow. "Desert? I want desert." Shadows coil from his leathers slickened in deep harper blue. Beneath the mop of red that flares on his head, clear innocence rests in his eyes. "Who's serving?" (Kohath) Ysaeth is content, for the moment, to remain folded himself. He twists about himself, settling head upon his haunch. What a nice pillow. Quinta ambles smoothly toward Lynnea, wraps an arm around the cook's waist, and tucks her shin on the shoulder before her, casting an absent smile to everyone present. The Miner's amber eyelashes flutter once, twice; the Weyrwoman is rewarded with a queer look, not at all unlike one that Quin might issue in a rabid wher's direction. (Kohath) Ropeth, personally, has his head settled -- Flopped. -- onto his forelegs. Singly-lidded eyes open fully, brown looking about with only a faint haze of confusion floating in his eyes. Mahlia is completely stuffed into a compact oblivion and just sits there blankly watching Lynnea grins at Quinta, "Have you met Weyrwoman Eos, Quinta?" K'den nods his head toward Lynnea. "She's err... well, doing everything, really." A squinted look is given Quinta, followed by an intake of breath and unspoken warning. Oh, do /not/ mess with the proddy.... Quite like her acquisitional lifemate, Eos nearly snarls as Quinta approaches her prized dessert: Lynnea. Spirited gaze dissolves with a distant, inquisitional lure, quickly returned towards G'tar as the snap of her arm indicates Lynnea. "Lynnea is serving /herself/ as dessert; doesn't she look scrumptious." Mahlia giggles R'il pokes at gravy-smoothed mashed potatoes absently as his brown eyes watch the show. And blink as Eos' snarls. Quinta maintains the dimpled sigil that's been made her trademark even at the goldrider's growl, continuing with her public display as if Eos didn't, and had never, in fact, existed. Does wonders for one's ego; not that this woman's needs any inflating. Mahlia cringes a bit as the proddy woman snarls and stares some more Ayana blinks and walks over to Lynnea and gives a finger wave to K'den, "And how are you this fine day?" She first glares at Quinta then thinks, hmmm, two for the price of one, "Who's your friend Lynnea?" Lynnea smiles, "This is Quinta. She's a miner, and quite nice, really." A desert by any other name would taste as sweet. "/Lynnea/, is serving herself? How generous." G'tar's eyes drift from Lynn to the lure of spirit in the weyrwoman's gaze. He goads. He drives. He dares. (mashed potatoless) "I'll take /two/." Lynnea giggles softly, obviously relishing all the attention. She smiles, "I am, of course, EOS' dessert, for tonight, and it's up to her whom she allows to partake of it..." R'il watches in silent awe. He could never be so forward, never. Well, hopefully never. Fork is once again dropped as he rests his cheek in his hand, elbow propped on the table, bemused by the spectacle. Ayana glances towards Eos for a moment then simply shrugs, "That's ok...I'll take seconds. But thirds...fourths and fifths...forget it." Then brow arches, "Quinta...hmmm...were have I heard that name...." She taps her cheek for a moment, "Hmmm, well it's a lovely name to say the least, belonging to such a lovely creature." Mahlia watches, and that's it.. she could never do that.. well now that is Quinta lets a steady stream of chiming giggles pour from her parted lips; coincidentally, one might catch a whiff of some sweet vintage in her breath. How typical. "Perhaps the Weyrwoman will, this eve, be as gracious as I've heard she is. I'm feeling hungry." Look, she's /drunk/. Very drunk. Drunk enough to flatter relentlessly and come up with exageratedly lame puns. Talented, no? (Kohath) Sivadath suddenly stirs; tail's trident abruptly lashes into the air, violent and lustful as moonlit facets unlid to investigate /her/ area. With an unusual, sensual appeal, she rises from her taut coil, her hide blazing and pulsing a resplendent rum-gold as lissome neck swerves skywards: her future destination. G'tar raises a brow long fallen in tease as one hip leans against the table, arm atop it resting in his other hand lain across one table-bound leg of bronzer. One glance falls on Lynn, then finds the depth of Eos again. He rumbles softly, "do you.../share/?" Eos instantly tenses, muscled shoulders rigid and unmovable as the goldrider's glacial stare whisks towards the bowl. "S/ivadath/.." she all but purrs, those about her ignored as soot-stained fingers clench to her chest. "I must leave.. now.. I must.." is her murmured chant, legs stretched to their furthest as she sprints for the bowl.