Fort Weyr - Living Cavern
This cavern, having been created by bubbles in the volcanic flow of this extinct volcano, has a breathtaking ceiling — a vast dome that arches high above the heads of the weyrfolk that scurry around beneath it. A hollow echo can be heard from loud enough noises, and the chatterings of various firelizards are consequently multiplied into a chaotic babble. All in all, the living cavern is a loud place.
Tables are scattered around the room, apparently in no particular order. Over to one side near the kitchens, two medium sized serving tables are constantly spread with snacks, klah, and other goodies. The tables look worn, yet perfectly fitted to the atmosphere of the caverns. In the 'corners' of the cavern, smaller two and four place tables are set up for more private talks or just a less chaotic atmosphere in which to eat.

Spring is slowly shifting into summer, seeing Fort Weyr now in new growth and bloom as the snow and ice finally recede (except from the higher mountain ranges). The area has seen a few days of rain and cooler temperatures, making for most of the roadways and pathways slick with mud — not that any weyrfolk here are stranger to it. With evening having settled in and past the dinner hour, most of the Weyr is winding down. Duties fulfilled, work completed, most weyrfolk seek the comforts of the indoors to ward of the still cold nights. While the living caverns aren't as boisterous as they are around meal times, a few souls linger about and there's the definite sound of music, laughter and heavier conversations drifting up from the stairs that lead to the aptly named Shenanigan's lounge a floor below. As for the living caverns, one could say it's quiet but certainly not cozy given the vastness of the Byzantine styled room with high curved and vaulted carved ceilings. Foregoing his usual spot on the raised dais often reserved for the Weyrleaders and weyrstaff, Th'ero has settled himself nearer the hearths. The Weyrleader is deep in his thoughts, staring into the fire and the glass of mulled, spiced wine in his hand currently forgotten. Rare is a day that he lingers this long or late in the caverns.

Beyrl meanders slowly through the Central Bowl into this chamber of lazy curves and reaching ceiling that nature carved in dynamic prose, in a language seen, not heard, enticing perhaps even the haughtiest of sentients to pause before the power of destruction, shaped into canvernous rugged beauty. Or so it appears in the eyes of one such mind currently taking in the majesty of nature's hand. He lifts his own hand, wondering briefly at the accuracy of such anthromorphism, but that is quickly dismissed as he glances around at the more mundane settings, placed by hands of more a man's nature, scattered haphazardly aross the hardened volcanic floor. It tells its story of men here, of structure, of lack thereof, of comfort without comfort, of gathering. For a pregnant moment his eyes behold a multitude of people imagined. Into mist this fades however when green orbs lay upon a figure lazied near the hearths, a glass of love's heat in hand, and lost among deep forests of hidden thoughts. A smile light upon the face of he who watches creeps. A story, a song, perhaps a history to weave. Interest piqued, like a bee finding a new favorite flower, he takes the shortest path toward the lone figure of a man.

Fort Weyr is the first Weyr to be founded after the second crossing when the Ancients (or more aptly, all their ancestors) saw fit to abandon the south for the north for safety. There is plenty of history here and not just in the huge library and records archive held somewhere in the depths of it and tended well by the posted Archivists and Harpers from Harper Hall. For that reason, Th'ero has strived to keep most of the Weyr in the old traditions, foregoing many of the technological gadgets unearthed Turns ago and mostly coveted by the newer Weyrs and Holds down south. The Weyrleader, once a Guard before Impression oh-so many Turns ago (a decade now at least), is accustomed to folks approaching him and so as much as Beyrl may think he's sneaking up on the bronzerider, he is in fact well aware and enough that though his eyes do not lift, his voice speaks. "May I help you?"

Beyrl strides up, even when his presence is found, so indicated by the query voiced, though not in his direction, to him nontheless. As is custom for the politeness of others, he moves to the side of the gentlemen there, and views the hearths as the answer he gives. "Good evening and tidings. I wish not to disturb. Please forgive curiosity, for it breached its mental confines when my vision beheld this most favorable of places." He turns with gentle motion, his eyes to meet the other, in a respectful motion and tone. "I am known as Beyrl, and I greet with upmost respect. A pleasure of your aquantance is, I'm fair sure, far more mine then that I present to you, dear sir. May I perchance inquire for the name of he who took notice of he of lower stature?" he asks with all politeness in voice and expression.

Th'ero does eventually lift his eyes from the fire in the hearths in a slow motion as he turns his head to regard Beyrl curiously and silently. Taking note of stature, clothing, speech and perhaps his ranking knot if the man is choosing to wear it (as most do, in order to be identified). "Good evening," he replies in return with a reserved but polite dip of his head. The Weyrleader has never been known for many words and today is no different, though he certainly quirks a brow for Beyrl's extremely formal choice of wording. "You are not disturbing me and you don't need to ask for forgiveness if curiosity is what brought you here. You are not the first, nor will you be the last." Th'ero shifts in his seat, sitting straighter than he had been before and that glass of wine, now remembered, is brought to his lips. "Well met, Beyrl. With your favouring on formality and prose, I'll say… you're of Harper Hall, aren't you?" Th'ero appears almost amused by this though the emotion only flickers on his features as he's neither a man to show much in emotion. "Lower stature? You're no drudge and even so we don't tolerate grovelling or such… hmm… focus on statures. I'm Th'ero, Weyrleader of Fort, rider of bronze Velokraeth. Have you come to visit?"

Beyrl indeed sports the knots of rank, an apprentice one sits upon his shoulder. "I was, as fate drew its path across mine, born of Harper Hall, to parents sharing the same weave of fate." he answers in his own manner. "I believe groveling to weaken a man's strength and set upon him an air of disdain from those who may return with more positive review. It's meaning was anchored in respect, to reflect the honest honor I portray, a simple honor that I may stay humbled, for my stories are not my own, my life not for me to bear alone, my song not for my ear only." he explains, then gives a wider smile at the name given, and the start of the story behind it. "Well met, Th'ero, hope runs perhaps we'll be more closely acquainted in days hence, for a reason dear to this heart I must admit brings me to your abode and haven. A dragon's fate I seek to intwine with mine, to find if fate deems it my grace to be bound to such. And thus my feet have led me here, my current stop on a journey dear." His tone fills with enthusiasm at the mention of the dragon, his eyes seemingly brighten at the prospect as it entices his mind.

Th'ero silently listens to Beyrl while still nursing his glass of wine, saying little though it's common for him to do so. Snorting softly, the Weyrleader again looks faintly bemused. "Spoken like a true Harper with an over-fondness for words. Don't feel you need to speak so polite or formally, Apprentice Beyrl." he tells the young man, only to quirk a brow. "You hope to one day be a dragon rider? Ambitious and a dream shared by some… but not guaranteed. You know this? Not that I aim to discourage you but perhaps enlighten you on the truth. A dragon must Search you, if you appeal to them and even then Standing as Candidate does not guarantee you Impress. If I were you, speaking an honest man to another, I'd not place all my hopes on one journey or path."

Beyrl at first appears slightly confused by the first statements shared by this man he's coming quick to enjoy the company of. "I do not wish to express in a way overly used with the language I chose. It is my way, and my mother's, and my father's. Their speach, their lives, their stories drive my own ever further." He doesn't appear to be reaching for words, but rather they flow as easily to his lips as water flows over a waterfall. He shifts some though, trying to at least appear more relaxed, though he was already at that stage. "I.." He takes a moment to gather thoughts from a walk through the stream of stories, to a singular path in a nature more refined, or perhaps in his relative view, restricted. "I shall attempt a more .." A small pause, perhaps something less, "directly mode of discorse." He does listen closely as Th'ero tells of dreams and unknowns, and he nods his head in understanding, trying to refrain from the politeness in the motion he's well learned in, and succeeding only partially. "Of all this I am aware. My journey has two futures, perhaps only or the other, mayhap both. I leave it to fate to decide, and yet my stories can grow out here. I learn, I watch, I wonder. If a dragon's life I do not share, their stories instead will pass from my lips to others' ears. I shall not regret either, but look forward to both, to experience, or to tell."

Th'ero nods his head again and drains the last of his wine, swallowing slowly as the now empty glass is set aside to be collected later by the drudges and cavern workers. "I meant no offence, Beyrl. Speak as is comfortable for you, but simply be prepared for some to be perplexed and confused by your method." he tries to explain. "We Weyrfolk are not quite the same as Holder." Again, a ghost of a smile curves one corner of his mouth. "Good. It'd be a shame for you to waste your talents in your Craft simply on the hopes of one day Impressing. Some focus too much on being a rider and when it never comes to be, they find themselves lost. If you are wanting the experience, then by all means that will not be denied you — should a dragon Search you when there are eggs on the Sands."

Beyrl says "I thank you for your kind words. I shall endeavor to learn the ways of the weyr, so that I may weave my life in a way more settling for those here. To learn a new, a life mode of speach, is to me a new story to tell with how I live my life." he mentions to Th'ero, to show he's willing, and has wanting and reason, to learn this way of living. He considers something however. "What may I offer to the community here, if I shall be entertained to stay a season to find more stories to teach and tell?""

Th'ero chuckles dryly, "It can be a bit of a shock, adjusting to life in a Weyr but most adapt. If you are in need of a room, you need only speak to the Headwoman Talica or Steward Zhirayr and they will see to it that you are situated comfortably in the Crafter area." Quiet for a moment, the Weyrleader seems to consider that last question before answering Beyrl but when he does, he speaks only of honesty and truth. "Your Journeyman would know best as to what you can do here in the Weyr. Most Apprentices seek to continue their studies. We've a few posted Journeymen Harpers here. I'd imagine you'd be helping with the teaching of the children here or working in our library and archives. Aside from that, it's what your Journeyman sees fit."

Beyrl says "Headwoman Talica. Steward Zhirayr." He repeats these names to solidify them in his mind. As for the rest, he responds in kind. "Then a journeyman I shall find, and be happy to assist in whatever capacity deemed best. As others of my Hall, I have experience in teaching, and the learning of others I enjoy quite well. Though it was truely my mother who's has mastered the art of times past, and my father who scribes those words to make them last." he adds of personal opinion. Honesty should beget honest, in his thinking. He then looks back at the hearth, studying its every detail with trained eye. "If I find all to be of such fair hospitality as you, I shall find quite the pleasant place here after all. I appreciate both your time and words." he adds, offering a smile kind to the gentleman."

"I'm sure there will be something here for you to do," Th'ero reassures Beyrl again and once more chuckles, "Most Fortians are curteous and welcoming. We've nothing against visitor or traveler and if you are looking to stay on then you are more than welcome. If you take the stairs to the lower caverns, you will find the Headwoman and Steward's offices and they may be within. If not, you may bunk with the Residents for the night and see to it that you are given your correct room in the morning." With that, the Weyrleader pushes to his feet, straightening his tunic and adjusting the belt that holds what looks to be a dagger to his hip. Reaching for his flight jacket, he'll slip it on over his shoulders. "Well met, Beyrl and I hope you enjoy your days here in Fort. Clear skies and good night." No rest for the Weyrleader and his farewell likely means that he has business to attend to, even at the late hour. Dipping his head, Th'ero will turn and head out towards the bowls, heading north towards the administration complex.

Beyrl pays strict attention to the directions given to him, to ensure he doesn't make a fool of himself (which he still may, but luck does favor the more prepared). "I shall take your advice, and a pleasent night to you as well." he returns with earnest. He settles down for the nonce, going over some details, and forming some learned knowledge into form to be woven into story later. Bits and pieces, like a tapestry, only threads, but put together a picture comes alive and tells a tale hopefully enticing. He smiles to himself however. Tonight has been good. An aquaintance of some enjoyment has been made. And a bed for the night is his. A fine day this has turned to be.

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