Attempted Table Flipping

It's morning on the day after the smithy explosion incident, and somehow word has not gotten to the *entire* Weyr at large just yet; that, or Inri the perpetual news (gossip) hound has been so busy with a personal project she wants done before her dragon clutches that she genuinely hasn't been paying attention. Kouzevelth has taken to sprawling out in inconvenient places again, and is presently enjoying the late spring/early summer sunshine while obstructing a distinctly large proportion of the northern bowl. Her mindvoice reeeeaches out, slowly and gently, just a gust of soft wind on Rhenesath's hearthfires.

Kouzevelth senses that Rhenesath's hearthfire warmth is more forge-like today, and those flames are stoked high, into a blistering furnace that suggests rage. And yet isn't quite matched by the feathered softness that's there for Kouzevelth, so clearly that anger isn't directed at the mamma-to-be. She's here, she's listening. « Do your eggs come now? » Because how does a dragon measure the length of time?

Rhenesath senses that Kouzevelth does not recoil instinctively, because it's clear that the touch of fury is not for her — and she is not far long enough yet that she feels the need to protect her unhatched offspring from the younger queen. It's a gentle rain of compassion that stays away from the flame itself, not trying to douse, simply lighten the air. « Another … longer, » she tries to translate from Inri's explanation of 'a couple of weeks yet,' « More sunsets. Inri wished to speak to Thys about her work. » A mistranslation of that might sound like there's something wrong with Thys' job performance, but Kouzevelth is careful to keep the thoughts lined with positivity.

Kouzevelth senses that Rhenesath has a flash of sunset hues throughout her flames, which die down a lick or two, the light from them dying, even if the heat remains, smouldering away, and slightly smoky, too. And then? Blackness. Soot, char, irritation. « She is in the place she works. » Only… Rhenesath is not happy as she says that. Up spring her flames once more, smearing the soot and blackness away until it's gone. « In the black place. »

Rhenesath senses that Kouzevelth cues up a rumble of discontented, ominous thunder at Rhenesath's declaration; her response a simple, « She will come, » and then, « It is wrong? » Ten turns of life and her word usage still isn't always clear, but at least the psychic touches that come along with it make perfect sense … evidently something happened to the smithy and the other dragon is highly displeased, which concerns her.


Fort Weyr - Smithy Repairs
It’s the smithy, but now it’s the blown-up smithy, so it doesn’t presently quite match its actual room description.


The « It is wrong, » that Kouzevelth gets as a reply will make perfect sense when Inri arrives at the smithy. The blackened walls and stink of blasting powder and char give it away before the main entrance is even seen, and what's inside is chaos. Soot-covered furniture is overturned and dripping wet where it's been doused with water to quell flames, and the place is not only damp, but cold - and when is the forge ever cold? It's been cordoned off for now, but that's not stopped Thys from going inside. She's at one of the workbenches that looks especially damaged, trying to lift up some wedged debris to get underneath it. And when she fails miserably at doing so, she kicks the stuck wood hard with her boots, over and over. Someone's frustrated!

Confirmation, repetition, those are methods of communication that Kouzevelth favors; she remains a mental presence of sympathy as long as is desired while the humans carry out their exchange. Inri, largely oblivious, is nibbling on the remains of a pastry as she pokes her head into the smithy, and that's the point at which she just. Stops walking. Standing in the doorway. She has to stop to process, take a breath, and only then work her way around haphazard objects to get closer and call out, "Thys?"

Freezing with her foot mid-kick (it's probably just as well she wears steel toe-capped boots, right?, Thys's shoulders stiffen, and she looks over her shoulder to where she's being called. "Inri." A curt nod of hello is given, she follows through on the kick, splintering the darkened wood around her toes, then turns around and smoothes out her soot-smeared shirt, drawing herself up tall as she breathes in, deeply. "It's a sharding mess, isn't it?" She takes a step, kicks visciously at a fallen chair, then stands with her hands planted on her hips as she surveys the chaos. "You don't want to get your hands dirty, do you? Everything is under that bloody desk, and I can't get to it."

"Well, I'm not the one who's pregnant, so I should be able to —" Inri's expression is unreadable except for the clear theme of shock she has going on here. At least it's obvious that Thys wasn't injured, and so she probably wasn't there for whatever happened; Kouzevelth now is making enough draconic inquiries that she's getting something of a picture. At which point Inri's trying to figure out where to best position herself in order to help move furniture. "What happened? I seriously came here to ask about a jewelry commission and — I think now is not the best time, is it?"

Pregnant? Thys's eyes go wide, she blinks at Inri, looks pointedly at her belly, then shrugs. "Yeah, well, I'm not either, and after the sharding kids that did this…" She frowns and shakes her head, then glowers at the goldrider - though it's not necessarily a dark look intended for her. "Don't tell Ralik I said that. He thinks we're trying." She moves back to the position she was in earlier beside the worktop, which is a pretty solid hunk of wood, and not at all light. Plus, it's slippery and soot-covered, so all the better to grip it - not. "Kyzen happened. And some other kid I don't know. And Aaron being completely irre-fu— irresponsible with blasting powder, and the whole lot went up like turn's end sharding fireworks. And my work is under here." She curls fingers under the slanted workbench, motioning for Inri to do the same. "My safe's there. Gems, metals, my journeyman's project. You help me get it, and I can make you something."

"Your journeyman's project," Inri repeats, with a dry, flat sort of horror to her voice. Because Thys doesn't actually have her journeyman's knot yet, meaning there is an intensely valuable and unfinished piece behind that disaster. Which may have been damaged. Belonging to a close friend of hers. Someone is going to die. At least until Inri processes that it was a pair of kids, at which point she will probably back off from murder. "Okay. Well. We can kill whoever was supposed to be watching the kids later, right now we need some kind of — better plan than giving it dirty looks because while that's always my first resort it isn't working. Oh, it's my dragon who I meant about being pregnant, by the way, if a human were as far along as she is they wouldn't be allowed to do any heavy lifting …" She trails off while trying to get the best possible position of hands-wrapped-around-bench, and once she's settled in a posture that will let her try to lift-shove without injury, she does what she does best and keeps talking: "Why was there blasting powder, anyway?"

"Flamin' Faranth knows why for Faranth's sake we'd need sharding blasting powder here, we're not a fu— oh, fuckit, I'm going to say it, we're not a fucking minehold, for Faranth's sake." And Thys kicks the fallen workbench again, though this time it's maybe got a purpose to it - to try and wedge that steel-capped toe of her boot under the edge. "Leverage. I think we need to make a lever. Unless… do you think you can lift it with me?" She sounds doubtful, given how heavy it is. "Tell me what you wanted commissioned. It's either going to be a good distraction, or it's going to make me mad that I can't do it because someone blew up my workspace."

"I … no." Inri sounded for a second, and looked for a second, like she thought they would be able to pick it up together. In all actuality, she's not much of an addition, and isn't actually all that strong. She drills and does PT with Thunderbird maybe once a week? And other than that rarely uses her upper body for much of anything that requires weight bearing excepting a flamethrower. "I don't. I think we can probably find some large metal scraps that maybe are supposed to be something else someday to help with that, though. And D'ani got me a ring, but I don't have one for him, so I needed one. Couldn't imagine asking anyone else."

"Hrm, metal mightn't be sturdy enough… I wouldn't trust it. Good thinking, though." Thys gives Inri a worn smile, then steps back from the bench and rubs her sootied hands along the thighs of her already dirty trousers. From her pocket, she pulls a handkerchief, relatively clean, for Inri to use for her hands if she wants. "D'ani got you a ring? It took you long enough." That gets a little bark of laughter, before she bites her lip and looks at Inri apologetically. "I'm sorry. I mean, what sort of ring do you want for him? If it's simple, I can always just head off to the Hall for a half a day and make one for you. Shardin' not gonna get anything done in here for a while, that's for sure." And she's given up on moving things around, for now. "I'll get some of the guards to come on in here and help me fish my things out later. There's no way we're going to move that ourselves."

Inri holds up her hand, which displays her simple ring — white-gold with filigree diamonds and a blueish-grey stone, but small and subtle. "I would say maybe it took him long enough, but we've always had different communication styles, so — I'll go make sure Alister knows you need him, I'm pretty sure he'll do anything to get an earring set for his mother. My bronze just loves to annoy him." Somewhere, Liechten is doing just that; sorry, Alister. Wait, what was she talking about again: "As for what I wanted to give him, something he can work in and is elegant but not flashy, and otherwise I'm really not sure, I've only ever gotten custom jewelry for myself before. You are the expert." Tell her what she wants, right?

"Titanium." Thys's response there is almost instant. "Maybe slightly oxidised so it won't look like it's worn so quickly, and… inlaid with… hrm." With her arms crossed over her chest, she reaches up to drum her fingertips against her chin. "I'm thinking inlaid with tektite, for some reason, which would be the first time I've used one in that way… they're quite rare, though. Have you got a budget? And can we get out of here? You're the perfect distraction right now and this," she waggles figners at their surroundings, "is really not helping my mood."

Budget, budget. Someone as mathematically-minded as Inri probably should have thought of the answer to that before, but she's busy listening to Thys imagine things and then imagine them up herself to try to get a mental picture, lips pursing, before she actually remembers to answer. Which means having to think about it. "Oh, I don't think more than three marks. It's important and I'll want to make a good investment, but I'll have to afford everything else, too." At least her position doesn't pay too poorly, and she is still selling recipes. "I am up for going wherever you'd like. I'd offer to buy you a drink but it's still morning, and I guess that bothers some people."

"A klah would be blissful," Thys sighs thankfully, her shoulders sinking as she relaxes just a fraction at the thought of getting out of the burnt smithy. "There's really nothing more I can do in here, is there? Not until I can commission some muscle…" It's a rhetorial question, though she does look hopefully at Inri as she says it, perhaps seeking validation. "What else do you have to afford to buy? And don't worry, I'll only charge you for materials, maybe for the cost of renting a space, though I think I can probably blag that, or get Tashryn to lend me her workshop… which I should have thought of before."

Inri instinctively heads living-cavern-wards, where she had recently stolen that pastry; it's not really stealing, though, as they were put out for the public. She maybe just nabbed one a ittle early. Thys' expression is met with sympathy, if not so much a brilliant idea that she can fix anything without a bit of a wait. "No, I think it's — best you take a break and calm your nerves, yes. Oh, we were going to have a party, a sort of housewarmy-weyrmating party kind of deal. Considering we're public faces, it'd be best for the Weyr. So I've got to fund that and have proper clothing for it, too — I am so glad," she adds, grinning, "that Master Brebain is posted here, now. He won't give me any discounts so you certainly don't need to either, but I won't outright refuse because that is, also, rude."

Thys exhales a deep breath once she's stepped away from the smithy, looking considerably more relaxed the further they get from it. "A party? And one not organised by me, which means it'll go off without a hitch. I'll look forward to coming… and I may even get myself a new dress. If I'm invited, of course?" She winks to show she's teasing, and rubs her sootied hands along her thighs as they walk. "I feel like I should be angrier, Inri. And yet I just can't seem to muster it."

"It's like compassion fatigue," Inri hazards, because she's guessing, but it's with the honed experience of someone who spends a lot of time behind a bar. Which is kind of like being a mindhealer. "Only it's anger fatigue. There's just so much of it you can't get the energy to really feel all that anger. Worn down. But yes. There will be a party you can come to — everyone can, we'll invite the whole Weyr, that's intimidating, but like I said, public figures, expect to have to do the same thing yourself if you go for that level of commitment in life — and I definitely encourage new dresses."

"A red one, I think." Thys drums her fingers against her upper arm, then nods in certainty. "Claret red, perhaps, because I've got the perfect garnet to go with it… and you'll have the perfect ring for D'ani by then. You'll get me his measurement, won't you? Or send him to me and… shardit, no, I don't have what I need to - never mind. I'll get it from the Hall. Easily fixed, no need to get flustered over it." She breathes out once more, and then the living caverns are right there and there's sweet, sweet klah waiting within them. "I'll show you some designs by this evening. When're you having the party? Just so I know what sort of time scale we're working on…"

"After the clutching," Inri can say oh so very definitively, becuse that's extremely definite. It does at least provide a few weeks comfortably, though! "We haven't talked about it much yet, just sort of — mentioned it, I mean. Keep breathing. I'll be sure to get you measurements." Kouzevelth may or may not have been responsible for D'ani having hers, or maybe he got it long enough ago Inri had completely forgotten. "Pile on all the sugar." Even if she doesn't normally like sugar in her klah. "Sugar cheers you up."

Thys nods, driving them in a beeline towards the klah and pastries. "Good. Plenty of time, then." If past experiences with Thys and disasters are anything to go by, the kitchens are going to need to pump out more sweet things to satisfy her craving for them - and right now she's started piling the sweetest of dessert pastries onto her plate. "Now, Inri, distract me for a little longer, will you? I need to forget the forge and forget what I'm eating here…"


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