Fort Weyr

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.

It's toward the latter end of the lunch rush and things are finally dying down in the living cavern. Zurii has, unfortunately, been conscripted to help clean things up and take away dirty dishes and all of that fun stuff that comes with being ye random resident without a particularly defined skillset. She's enjoying it, though, in as much as she can; which is to say that she's doing it with a smile on her face and some easy chatter for anyone that's sitting still long enough to endure her unrelenting optimism.

There must have been a mid-morning gathering of one of the Wings (or maybe two), as there’s a sudden influx of riders from the entranceways leading to the lounges and Wingleader offices above. Among the throng (that arguably, divides pretty rapidly) and no less centre is Th’ero himself. Looking as sour and broody as ever, which begs to wonder if the Weyrleader’s mood is further compounded by whatever was discussed or just the day to day. Maybe it has something to do with a greenrider talking but oh-so obviously trying to cozy on up — much to the growing horror of their companions, who’re hissing and gesturing at them from a safer vantage point. It has the unfortunate effect of distracting Th’ero enough that he has yet to recognize Zurii or, regrettably, much of his surroundings.

If only Zurii's powerful vague skill set were enough to contend with cleaning Maizin up. But he is not a dirty dish, nor a table in need of a once-over. Given his continued choice(?) of over-sized roughspun tunic that's got its share of old stains, mends and small holes in need of mending and the pants to match, it's a job that would take larger than just the tail end of the lunch rush. The bored expression he wears even as his curiously clean hands bring a meatroll to his mouth to bite and chew and rinse with a mouth of— it's probably juice? — and repeat certainly doesn't invite the young woman to try, even if she does enter the scope of his notice during the course of her task. "Hey," is almost like a 'psst,' lips quirking just enough into some small dark and private amusement but gives way to a slightly wider look of well-feigned smug neutrality, rather than just boredom. Then his blue eyes fall on the riders, with their illustrious leader amongst them, and he doesn't roll his eyes, but only just. Surely the fact that there are dishes near Maizin on his table to be taken away and seats that could be claimed will not go poorly for him.

The influx of riders is peripherally noted, though not Zurii's immediate concern. She's in mid-collection of a pile of plates and some silverware, with only a fleeting look to those that are filtering out of the entranceway. Th'ero is spotted along the way because, well, it's Th'ero. Much like a cat that can sense people that hates cats, she has a sixth sense for sussing out people that don't like fun. And, likely, some rogue thought pops into her head to approach the man but then she's being 'Hey'd at and her attention cuts quickly to Maizin. "Hey, Izi," is sing-songed right back, less a conspiratorial hiss and more a bright bauble of friendliness. She scootaloos over to his table to pick up some stuff, adding to her stack of plates with care. "How are you?"

An effort is being made, at least, to keep some decorum! But even he has a (short, so short) limit of patience and at last the —proddy— cozy greenrider gets a stern warning from him. Th’ero doesn’t even bat an eye for the affronted look given him, but he’s saved any further interaction as the greenrider’s companions swoop in for the ‘rescue’. With a long suffering sigh (and ruined appetite, ugh), the Weyrleader will turn to leave. It wasn’t so much the sing-song of greeting, but just bad, terrible luck, that he happened to glance sidelong — and spots Zurii. Instant scowl. But the colder reserved stare is for Maizin. If appearances could tell much of character, then perhaps there’s significant ‘red flag’ nagging that gives his steps a pause.

There's a slight shift of Izi's head to the side as though to say 'well' without actually offering words in answer to Zurii's question. After he finishes chewing his next bite, he does actually open his mouth to speak, but his eyes skim across to where they meet, briefly the scowl of the Weyrleader. "I'll get this one," is of his plate which is empty on his last bite and he takes up the plate and mug to unexceptionably go return them before he ducks out of the cavern.

She's at capacity, which means Zurii has to put the stack down for a few moments to make sure it's properly balanced. It also frees her hands up to allow her to snap off a salute to the Weyrleader, now that she spots him over there. "Hello, Weyrleader-sir!" Those instant scowls have no effect against her shield of cheer today! Also, she doesn't have her art supplies, so maybe she figures that will protect her well enough? Maybe? And, maybe it's just ill-timing on her greeting or whatever, but suddenly Izi's making a break for it and she blinks a bit in the aftermath. "Okay," is said to the seat where Maizin was - and with a measure of concern, at that - but, hey, one less plate to clean up? Bonus!

Is it any surprise that Th’ero’s dark gaze trails Maizin until he’s completely out of sight? It shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t be any shock either than his expression only darkens a fraction more before easing back slightly. Why? Because now he’s focused back on Zurii. “Do you know him?” Oh boy, she’s just striking two and two now, isn’t she!? First with the decor and the sketchbook, now this! Of course, he’s making a leap here to connection, given the girl’s concern but that could easily having him brush it off as an age thing. If there’s one thing he doesn’t understand? Youths. Specifically young girls. In fact, from the distant look his gaze takes on, he’s already veering in that direction before Zurii even answers.

She's about to heft her pile o' plates when Th'ero turns his attention on her. Zurii's smile falters only a little, but it's quick to recover. "Kind of," she replies, shoulders rising and falling. "I've seen him around, anyway! We've talked a bit." Confusion registers shortly after. "Why? Is something wrong, sir?" Concern crops up again, even as she finally does get the plates in hand.

Well isn’t that a logical answer? Th’ero’s brows knit, taking in the dishes she carries and then merely shrugs the whole scenario off — he’s bound to even forget what the man even looked like entirely by the end of the afternoon. “Nothing is wrong.” He remarks dismissively, already tiring of that conversation. Instead, he gives her another shrewd look. “You’re a lower caverns worker then?” Pointedly, he seems to dart a quick look to see if there’s any sign of her “art” about her.

"If you're sure, sir," Zurii tips her head briefly, concern lingering in the set of her eyebrows until the moment seems to pass and the emotion is summarily dismissed. And while she might not be proud of the work she does, she does answer him with a smile. "Yes, sir. I just kind of do whever they need me to do." Fortunately (or unfortunately?) there is no sign of her art to be found; no bag, no sketchbook lurking under a table, nada. Not even a firelizardly conspirator to betray her, even. "Do you- are you looking for something? Can I help you at all?"

Th’ero doesn’t answer the first question verbally, he allows a sidelong look to do that job for him. With a quirked brow for added emphasis! Yes, he’s certain and she’d be best not to pry at him. It never goes well and worse if he’s already in a ‘hackles raised’ mood. Despite the lack of greatness to her ‘tasks’, that she shows good work ethic (or so he hazards, but he’ll give that olive branch at least) seems to appease him. “No, thank you.” Colder still but not as frigid. Just as he seems readied to add another question, there’s commotion outside in the distance. The bang is loud enough to be heard from within the caverns, the sudden hush of the din of conversation allowing muffled voices to drift in. Along with that — the curious and wary vocalization and warbling queries of several dragons. Th’ero’s head turns towards the exit leading out to the bowls, scowl returning something fierce. “Excuse me.” And off he goes, each step building much like the growing charge of a terrible storm.

There's a slight nod for that, but the girl knows very well when to press and when not and now is not that time. Fortunately, any further interaction awkwardness is averted by what appears to be a curious series of events outside and well beyond her ken. "Clear skies, sir!" is called after Th'ero, for all that he seems to bring some storms and terribleness in his wake. Zurii is undeterred, though. And, once the man's gone, she returns to her task, escorting dishes off to be washed and returning to collect more until the day's duties are done.