Who Aignes, D'had, F'inn, K'zre
What Czarduinath is a *little* proddy, and Aignes is making a not-so-little… blanket
When Winter - Month 12 of Turn 2720
Where Living Caverns, Fort Weyr

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Fort Weyr - Living Caverns
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.


Click clack. Click clack. It's not really a loud noise, but it's the only one Aignes is paying attention to as she furiously works her knitting needles. The weaver-rider has set up nearly a full workshop on one of the tables closest to the kitchens and even if there wasn't the ambient heat from the oven walls, the amount of yarn overflowing on the table would probably keep things more than toasty over there.

Maybe it's the over-abundance of yarn. Or maybe it's the click-clack of those needles at work. Or maybe it's just that K'zre decided that today, of all days, he would attempt to be social without provocation. Whatever the reason, he's heading toward that furiously-knitting greenrider with the clear intention of engaging in conversation. Or at least, you know… saying 'hi'. Which he does, once he's close enough. Still bunded up against the cold, he tugs the scarf away from his neck so that he can get a proper, "Hello, Aignes," out without being muffled. "You're… looking busy." Super observant, clearly.

Having gotten word that the sweep riders are back, F'inn latched onto the opportunity to ditch his office (and the mountain of paperwork that never seems to lessen) and head for the living cavern. Stomping snow off his boots, he pulls off his gloves and rubs his hands briskly together, beelining toward the serving tables for a mug of klah before heading toward K'zre and Aignes. "Knitting a dragon," he asks the moment he gets close enough to eye the yarn-piled table. "I don't think that is how things work, Aignes." In the wake of the words, he lightly bumps K'zre's hip with his own, his smile warming. "How did sweeps go?"

Enter D'had pulling off mittens on his way to the serving tables they're tucked into his belt in exchange for a klah. "Hey," the short greeting comes with a nod toward F'inn as they pass each other there and then the older man trails after him. Whether drawn by curiosity or the extra warmth that the kitchens provide that particular corner of the caverns is anyone's guess. "Or for a dragon," he tacks onto the Weyrsecond's guess. Shrug.

"I'm always busy," Aignes waves off Kez's hello with a lift of her elbow. She might be trying to simultaneously set a record for worlds quickest and longest blanket. The gesture upsets the layers of shawl and lap-ghan and other blankets enough to reveal a bit of the sunshine yellow dress that would be more at home at summer Gather day than another boring winter afternoon at Fort. F'inn's snowy boots are scowled at, but the suggestion of knitting a dragon has her eyes widening. "I wasn't…" But now that he's given her ideas, she stops knitting long enough to lift up that sparkly pink mass of what was probably a blanket, judging it. "Does Yasminath need a stuffed dragon?" That comes out right about when D'had adds his guess and she nods. "It could be both!"

"I don't think anyone needs a stuffed dragon. She might want one, though." Semantics. Of course Yasminath needs/wants a stuffed dragon! And she'd happily say so herself, if she knew what was at stake. Alas, K'zre does not pass along that message, and so the green is unaware of what might have just slipped through her talons. "Sweeps were… fine," he decides after a moment of thought, gaze sliding toward his weyrmate to answer that hip-bump and warm smile with a hint of his own. A bit of a wiggle, and he's strategically and not-so-subtly attempting to worm his way in against F'inn in a blatant attempt to steal his body heat. It's cold! "How could it be both?" he wonders. "I don't think a stuffed-dragon makes a good blanket…"

"Good point," F'inn notes as he flashes a smile at D'had. "Yes." The answer is instant and automatic and directed at Aignes without so much as a blink from F'inn. Cause he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Yasminath would /love/ a stuffed dragon more then anything in the world. Ever. Or, at least until the next most wonderful thing comes along. K'zre might not pass along the message, but F'inn? Absolutely selling K'zre down the river via Nymionth. Taking a long swallow of the klah as the message is passed along, he sets the mug on the table, one arm draping around K'zre's shoulders as he worms his way in. "Have you met D'had," he asks Aignes. "Aignes, rider of Green Czarduinath, D'had, rider of Blue Siebith." Cause introductions are important.

D'had blinks. Right.. What did he walk into? "A dragon for a dragon then." Well it does work, if there's a dragon who's into that sort of thing - which apparently Yasminath is, not that he'd know. "Fine," he echoes K'zre's answer about sweeps. Sweeps are always fine, unless they're not. "Think so…" he says of meeting Aignes as he takes a drink. She at least looks vaguely familiar.

"Neeeeeeeed wasn't the question," Aignes drawls that out there. "And I meant both a dragon and for a dragon. I think I can work this blanket into a wingsail easily enough…" She holds it up and it's already wide enough to cover both her shoulders. "Maybe a weyrling dragon though." She will at least concede that much to her normal love of practicality. As F'inn makes introductions she turns to peer at the bluerider's face. "I think we met once before… maybe. But I'm Aignes. Green Czarduinath's." Like the weyrsecond had just said, but with her own introduction, Aignes will stretch out her hand towards D'had for a shake. Czarduinath likewise will reach out an emerald sequin ribbon of her own greeting towards the blue.

"A wingsail isn't a dragon. It's just *part* of a dragon." Ahh. Technicalities. But after that, Kez seems to decide that perhaps he ought to shut up while he can, falling silent at F'inn's side. Or maybe it's that Yasminath is making her opinion on a stuffed dragon very clear, given K'zre's gaze has gone glassy in that tell-tale look of bespeaking one's beast. A furrowed brow, and once his focus returns, a slanted side-eye at his weyrmate that holds much accusation. "She doesn't need any more stuffed animals," comes in a huff, the words quiet but clearly audible to more than just F'inn.

"Yasminath absolutely wants it," F'inn assures with a lopsided smile. "And Weyrling-size couldn't be more perfect." And he is intent on making that happen, now. Clearly. "Let me know what you need for the yarn? I'll cover the cost." Clearing his throat, he glances down at K'zre, and grins wryly. "Sure she does, Nymionth assures me she is very, very excited over the prospect and already rearranging their couch." Which is, as an aside, piled high with stuffed animals. A moment later, he is reaching for his klah, attempting to look oh-so-innocent while taking a long swallow. "Yellow is a good color for," he asides to Aignes. Yes, he saw the dress.

D'had stretches out a hand to meet Aignes' for a solid shake. Siebeth's return is brash compared to the green's ribbon, drowning it in crashing waves. The other hand lifts his mug as he takes a drink. F'inn took care of introductions, no point in repeating. For the rest he can only roll his eyes and shake his head. Dragons, stuffed animals. Nuff said. "It is," on the point of the dress, he can agree at least.

Ewww, soggy ribbons! Czarduinath evidently isn't as much a fan of waves as on her previous adventures with Siebeth and coolly withdraws those ribbons back into their spool with a huff. Aignes likewise is rolling her eyes at F'inn. "I took the same dragon anatomy courses as you… at least the weyrling ones. You are still just a human healer, right? There also aren't pink dragons, but you'll have one on your ledge soon enough!" She wiggles the edge of the blanket-sail as threateningly as a pink-sparkly yarn creation can be waved. As for the compliments, that distracts her and if it weren't for all the blankets currently in her lap, she might give a twirl. Alas, she just settles for rearranging a bit of the skirt while still remaining seated. "It is. And such a perfect color for winter. Why should summer get all the fun colors?"

There comes a flash of true irritation — there and gone — before Kez decides, "I'm getting a drink," and worms his way out from beneath F'inn's arm. Annoyed though he might be, he's at least careful in picking a path around Aignes and her project that avoids inadvertently treading on any of that yarn. The suitability of her dress, and its color, will remain uncommented on by the greenrider, and it is a fair bet to assume that K'zre hadn't even noticed before the others pointed it out. Even so, he spares barely a glance for the other greenrider before he's heading to the serving tables in pursuit of something warm. And he will happily take his time, fussing over mugs and tea and hot water, until he's figured out what he wants and whether he will return to the gang by the kitchens.

F'inn considers that for a moment before giving a mild shake of his head. "I think light blue is a better color for winter." Course, he has no idea Czardie is proddy and that he has just tread on dangerous ground. Particularly since his attention is taken by K'zre moves away to get himself something to drink. For whatever reason, F'inn watchs like a hawk. "Grab some meatrolls, please," is called. Yup, totally making sure that K'zre comes back. Nope, not even a little subtle about it. "We're going skiing soon," he points out to Aignes. "If you want to join us?"

Waves come with the territory as it were, but Siebeth isn't exactly put out by her withdrawl either. "Got a point there," D'had remarks on summer colors. "Some color's nice ti brighten up the days." Not that he's going to be the one wearing the color, he's pretty basic and boring when it comes to that, but he can appreciate it from time to time. A glance spared for K'zre as he takes off, nothing more, and then back to Aignes for her answer to F'inn. The bluerider idly adjusting the case on his belt, likely for a distance viewer given the shape, and making sure he hasn't lost a mitten since he returned and continuing to sip from his own drink.

Aignes gives another eyeroll. "Blue blue blue blue blue blue blue…" And then a quick look to D'had. "No offense." At least not against the blue dragons. "That seems like all the colors people have been commissioning lately. Or browns. But nothing… festive. Or springy!" Probably because they're more worried about freezing their parts off than this particular greenrider is. As for the question of skiing trip, she slumps back in her seat, arms crossed. "I don't think I'm supposed to leave the weyr. Wingleader's orders." For sooooome reason. And if there's a lost mitten, never worry. Aignes can whip up another in no time although the color probably wouldn't match D'had's other one at the moment.

There is definitely another look aimed at the bronzerider, before Kez turns back to his tea. Sadly, the mug is as prepared as it is going to be, and he is left with excuse to dally further. A bit of hesitation, a deeper scowl, and then he snags a plate of meatrolls without really looking at it, and… stalks back to the group. At least by the time he gets there, his expression has cooled into something nicely neutral. "Probably because it's not spring" he points out, the words a low mutter. At least that little tidbit about not leaving the Weyr has the wheels in his head turning, and after a moment of silent and serious study, an 'aha' moment comes when those dots connect correctly.

F'inn blinks once, his brows twitching mildly. "Oh! Well, not that soon.. We need a really good snow to go skiing." And it is way safer to wait until Yasminath has risen, as well. "I'd wear yellow," he decides as he finishes off his klah and sets the mug back on the table. Snagging a meatroll off the plate, his arm returns to its drape around K'zre's shoulder, a gentle tug pulling him back in against F'inn's side. "Orange would be good, to," he provides. "A nice burnt orange, actually." Without missing a beat, he takes a bite of the meatroll, indulging in a slow stretch while chewing. "D'had's coming along with us. K'zre is certain he's going to have to set broken bones. It could be fun all around."

"None taken?" D'had replies, not quite certain that that's right answer, but it seems to be right. As to spring he can only shrug, "Ain't spring, doesn't mean you can't wear yellow." He's not about to step in the hole and ask about why she's not allowed to leave. "Hey!" Offended? Maybe a little. "How is the two of you planning on breaking me fun?" Because that's what its come to in his head at least.

Aignes pshaws at Kez. "But it will be!" And she'll be ready for it. Probably. Or just back to her normal cozy sweaters. As for the delay, she blinks. "But isn't there always snow up North?" High Reaches can share their snow, she's pretty sure of it. "And yellow would be a good color for skiing. If you get off the trail, it'll be easy to spot you!" Her nose wrinkles a bit at the mention of broken bones. "I don't want broken bones." Not her's, not their's. No broken bones period. And for D'had's objection she laughs. "I'm pretty sure it's F'inn's bones K'zre is really worried about. Nobody wants to deal with a weyrmate with both legs broken."

F'inn can have all the meatrolls he wants — K'zre is happy to shove the plate at him with the expectation that the bronzerider will take it, and then cross his arms (carefully, since he has a mug) over his chest and… stand there. "Do you /like/ skiing?" he wonders of Aignes with a skeptical look. But of broken bones, there is just a scowl. Because yeah, Kez totally expects to be setting at least one mangled limb before the end of winter. "Breaking anything is not fun," he insists, perhaps in agreement with D'had, even if the words might sound more like an argument. "I don't want to set broken bones. I would prefer nothing to be broken. On anyone," he adds, a little dip of his head seconding Aignes' words on the matter. "And you can wear whatever you like," comes in a huff, a bit of that neutral façade cracking with a flash of eyes and a roll of tense shoulders. "It wasn't a comment on the color. Aignes said no one was ordering anything 'springy'." And Kez felt the need to point out, rather unnecessarily, that it is not spring. "Forget it," he decides, mug lifted as a convenient excuse to stop talking and start sipping.

F'inn exhales a quiet laugh as he glances at D'had and shakes his head. "There will be no bone breaking," he assures. Snagging another meatroll, he gives K'zre a nudge of his hip, his chin tilting toward the exit. "If we don't head back now and get the fire going, the weyr is going to be an icebox." And he still needs to chop wood. Glancing back at Aignes and D'had, he flashes another lopside smile before noting. "We'll make sure you have more then enough notice before the trip. It'll be fun." Course, he's none to subtle about nudging K'zre toward the exit. (I gotta take care of some business. But thank you for the RP!)

D'had snorts. "Fine, fine," no one's breaking anything. That of course remains to be seen. "Should be fun." It will be. A nod is sent towards F'inn, and K'zre if he's leaving with the bronzerider, a silent 'later'. "So what else do you make?" this to Aignes.

"I think someone might be getting ready to rise," Aignes will lean over to stage whisper towards D'had while nudge-nudging towards K'zre, completely ignoring the elephant of terran-lore in the room. And a hand waves off the complaints about lack of springiness. "Don't worry. I think this dragon will be bright enough to lighten up the winter." She pats the knitting in her lap that she takes up again, but not before giving a wave towards the departing. "Don't freeze to death!!!" Always good advice, right? As for the question of what else she makes, she shrugs. "Quilts normally. And sometimes lace. Socks and scarfs and blankets and sometimes even ball gowns. Or whatever else people might ask for."


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