Fort Weyr - Shenanigan's Lounge
The natural walls of this cavern haven been completely covered and replaced by straight and sometimes curving walls of brickwork. There's method to the madness of covering stone with stone. It's as simple as the electric buzz in the room. New grade electric lights dot the fancy brick worked walls, with wires cleverly hidden behind, allowing more focus to be centered on the rest of the room rather than the numerous strings of wire needed to operate the lighting. Each bulb roosts in a bronzed metal flowering fixture, giving the room a rich atmosphere. Still, the walls are not the only place which has stone on stone appeal. The floor has been run smooth, the surface now slate rock, creating an imperial cast.
Beyond the actual foundations of the lounge, the luxury continues. High backed wooden chairs with padded white seats have been stationed all around the room. Between the individual chairs are benches fashioned out of the same rich wood with pillows made to flatter the cushions. There are low lying coffee tables or end tables near the individual chairs, while there's larger dinning room sized tables with chairs to match scattered as well, giving much variety to those who find themselves in the room. Decorative hangings and framed artwork has been neatly hung around the room, but to offset the meticulous method of the room, there's some pieces that give a sporty feeling to the room - such as a fishing rod or a snow shoe.
Of course, the final appeal of the room comes in the form of it's purpose; athletic competition. There are several games of darts lining the walls, various decks of dragon poker cards available, a large velvet lined pool table centered to one side of the lounge, a mat area surrounded by ropes, and an area that keeps track of all the runner races around the world via radio signal, giving constant updates on the status of the runners. Lastly, there's a bar here, small and built with brick as well. There's usually a bartender on duty willing to mix drinks during the evening hours.


With the seasons in the cusp of spring and summer, the first day of the fifth month for most would be uneventful. For Fort Weyr, it's the Connell Festival, which done every Turn to celebrate Fort Weyr's Founding so long, long ago. There is an air of festivity about the Weyr from dawn until even now as evening settles and the clouds roll in and a cold rain falls. Not enough to dampen anyone's spirits however and the living caverns, the Gemstone Tavern and Shenanigan's remain comfortably packed with people of all ranks and positions, rider and non-rider.

Th'ero is over by the dart games, where few have gathered and where the Weyrleader has managed to snare a table for himself and his weyrmate, though the bench seats and chairs still remain empty for anyone wishing to join them. A mug of ale rests on the table, along with other drinks and some food that looks to be barely touched. Sitting on the bench against the wall and with a clear view of the lounge, Th'ero is holding a single dart in his hand and gently turning it through his fingers. "You know, it's been ages since I last played a game of darts. Wonder if I could still manage to even present much of a challenge…" he muses quietly (or as quietly as he can manage over the din of conversations buzzing around) to the one beside him.

Kimmila sits beside Th'ero, dressed in warm and casual clothes, looking well rested and even now a bit drowsy as she nurses a mug of lighter ale. "I doubt it," she says, but there's a teasing glint to her eyes. "How's your leg?" she asks, stretching a bit. Some might have heard of the pair's misadventure down in Southern, with the feline attack, and Varmiroth is still being carefully monitored to make sure the blue's wounds do not get infected and heal properly.

Nathaniel has spent most of the day passing out little sample soaps, since that's the sort of things Traders do during festivals, but it hasn't stopped him from enjoying the cheerful atmosphere in the evening, now that the day is over. In fact, here he is now, making his slow way in with the usual rhythmic *thunk* of his cane. He's looking flushed from the cold, in spite of a heavy (if somewhat worn) coat, and he heads first for the bar. He maneuvers his way through the crowd, and when he finally gets there, leans gratefully against the edge of the bar as he requests, "An ale, please."

The tale of the feline attack in Southern is no doubt a favourite among the Fortian hunters, most of the riders and some of the posted Beastcrafters for sure. Th'ero continues to turn the dart through his fingers and he snorts at Kimmila's teasing, a brow lifting as he smirks. "Is that a challenge?" he drawls, wiggling the feathered end of the dart at her. Yes? "Healing well. Stitches are due out… tomorrow?" He frowns as he scans his thoughts hurriedly and then nods. "Yes. Tomorrow. Varmiroth is mending well? I hear the Dragonhealer's check on him regularly?" Looking up then, his dark eyes scan the lounge for a moment and the Weyrleader muses while his eyes linger on Nathaniel. "Seems the festival has gone well again this Turn, eh Wingmate?" he murmurs to Kimmila.

Kimmila looks around before nodding at Th'ero with a crooked grin. "Isn't it always?" she teases. "Tomorrow? Excellent. And yes, they are. He's healing fine but he's so restless. Hard to keep him from over exerting himself," she admits with a frown and a sigh. "Hey, isn't that our soap maker? We're running low on the citrus…" She lifts her arm to try and catch Nathaniel's attention through the crowd, before nodding. "It is, yes!"

Nathaniel gets his ale and then starts looking around for a free seat, of which there are precious few. He's still looking around for a place to rest his feet when he spots Kimmila's wave and sents her a broad grin, lifting his drink in a mock salute. He wends his way in that direction, and once he's close enough to be heard over the background noise, he offers, "Good evening! Enjoying the festival, are we?" He comes to lean heavily against his cane, and has a swallow of his drink with an appreciative little noise. "Now, /that/ is a fine drink."

Th'ero chuckles low in his throat and then promptly sets a few darts down on the table in front of her and a few for himself. The rest go to the centre of the table, an open and silent invitation to any others. "Hmm. What if he helped Aycheth and M'icha in overseeing the Weyrlings? Not actually fly or move but an extra pair of eyes and his empathy may be well suited." he murmurs and then frowns. "You heard about Zeltenith?" Who hasn't heard about that? "Hmm?" Th'ero takes a second look at the crowd and sure enough he spots and recognizes Nathaniel this time and he gives Kimmila a slight but playful nudge. "And I wonder why we're running low so soon? How many baths have you had of late?" he teases her quietly, only to add a wave of greeting to the Trader and soap maker as he approaches. "Good evening!" he drawls, before gesturing for him to join if he chooses. "Feel free to sit. We were considering a game of darts too if interested." He smiles crookedly. "Oh? Which drink did you order? I find Shenanigan's tends to import some good brews." He reaches for his mug then and takes a slow swig of it.

Kimmila nods, "Perhaps, though I doubt he'd want to stay still. He's working on his mosaic. Hopefully that keeps him occupied for a while so I have some free time." She picks up her darts and gets to her feet with a grin. "Yeah, I heard about Zeltenith." There's an eye roll. "Silly bronze. Hello! Nathaniel, right? The soap maker. And hush," she says to Th'ero with a nudge. "I'll have as many baths as I want."

"Well, don't mind if I do!" Nathaniel accepts, cheerfully. "It /is/ crowded tonight, isn't it. It's an ale. I didn't specify the type, though I think I should have asked. I'd order the same again." He sets the glass on the table before sitting heavily, and then waves off the offer of darts with a vague, "Ah, no. I'm terrible at darts. I will watch, though…" He grins then, and leans slightly toward Kimmila, "And you have as many baths as you like, lass. I believe we men are born with less delicate noses than the fairer sex…"

"Perhaps it would be too much temptation and cruel to just have him lay there…" Th'ero mulls over his thoughts and agrees with her, only to give Kimmila a lingering sidelong look. "Does he need anything for the mosaic? More supplies or bits of shell and glass?" he asks softly and then pushes to his feet as well. As he steps forwards to rest by the end of the table there is only a subtle limp to his stride but he no longer requires support. "Foolish bronze! Doubt we'll see a repeat though. Not when he brought three Queens on his head for his stunt!" Th'ero shakes his head and grimaces but only grins when Nathaniel accepts the offer cheerfully. There is a low laugh for Kimmila's nudge and he smirks crookedly. "The ale served tonight is rather fine!" Th'ero agrees, turning his focus back to the Trader and chuckles. "Keep score then?" he suggests, only to snort. "Don't encourage her!" The Weyrleader teases again as he gathers his darts and then with a sweeping gesture of his hand, signals Kimmila to step up and take her turn at the dartboard. Ladies first! "The citrus isn't so bad, really." he drawls. "Refreshing!"
Kimmila eyes Nathaniel, though her grin is crooked. "Are you implying that I smell so badly I can't stand it and have to constantly bathe, while
Th'ero doesn't even notice?" Looking back to Th'ero, she nods. "He always needs new materials. Glass, shells, tiles." She watches him walk critically, before seeming satisfied. "He'd be stupid to repeat that stunt, it's true. One of the weyrlings flew longer than he was instructed to," she adds for Nathaniel's benefit.

Nathaniel smirks at Kimmila's reply. "Actually, I was implying that perhaps excessive bathing on your part might be a subtle hint that /he/ could use an extra now and then… But I was trying to be more delicate than that," he claims, with an innocent expression, and has another sip of his ale. He glances between Kimmila and Th'ero, rather lost on the subject of the bronze until Kimmila clarifies, and his brows raise in acknowledgement. "Ah! I see… I suppose that's dangerous, then?"

Th'ero laughs softly. "Oh, I'd notice." he drawls, only to fix Nathaniel with a long and searching look for that innocent expression (which he doesn't buy for a second). The Weyrleader only grins though and shrugs. "I do pride myself that I at least keep a regular routine so though I may be offensive after a day of work or perhaps a sparring match or some sweep riding, I am not as foul as some men could be and are?" he muses and then sobers as the topic turns to the weyrling. Th'ero grimaces, eyes still turned to the Trader. "At this stage of their growth and training? Quite. The bronze probably could have flown well enough but they're young and new to it all. It'd just take one good burst of wind or a change and inexperience would lead to disaster. Unmanned flight is supposed to progress slowly. Dragon wings can be damaged…" He tapers off there and shrugs his shoulder and pointing the feathered end of a dart again at Kimmila, Th'ero muses. "So are you going to go first or not?"

Kimmila laughs. "I'm hardly delicate, so come right out and say it if you've got something to say," she says good naturedly. "It is, yes. First flight and all, he could have done himself serious damage. And no, Th'ero, you're not at all offensive. He's very clean," she assures Nathaniel with a grin. Then she gestures to Th'ero. "Injuries before beauty."

Nathaniel rolls his eyes a little as they both start getting defensive, jokingly or not, and takes another sip of his ale. "Can they, then?" he wonders, focusing on the topic of the dragons, instead. "I've always thought of dragons as being very… Tough? But I suppose the children of any species are bound to be more delicate," he acknowledges, slightly bemused as he waits for Kimmila and Th'ero to sort out who wiill start the game.

Th'ero would have bristled and become all defensive once and when he was younger. Not so much now, though if the teasing went any longer or further the Weyrleader may have become uncomfortable. Nothing like a bit of ale though to relax the mind! "Thanks, Wingmate." he muses with a grin. Of course he's not offensive! At least not in the sense of smell. His behaviour sometimes? Is another matter. "Oh, dragons are tough when they mature…" Th'ero begins and then nods to Nathaniel with a crooked smile. The Trader go it! "They'll be getting stronger in flight every day now. Seems once they've mastered the basics it's all uphill from there. Won't be much longer now until the Weyrlings will be taking on light duties." Oh, how fast they grow up! Th'ero rolls his eyes to Kimmila then and shoots her a narrow look though his grin gives away that he is joking around. "Funny. But if you insist!" Stepping into place, Th'ero will shift his weight to one side as he still favours the uninjured leg a bit and proceeds to line up and take the first shot. It goes wide and strikes just within the target's farthest band. "Shards." he mutters with a frustrated sound. "Rustier than I thought!" Cough. The next darts follow and each fall a little further in but still not to centre. Shrugging, he shuffles forwards and collects his darts and then sweeps his arm again to Kimmila. Her turn!

Kimmila chuckles, throwing her darts and scoring slightly better than Th'ero. But not by much! Seems she's rusty too, and her focus is mostly on the conversation. "Plus it's the issue of control. You don't want a dragon that disobeyso rders. That can be dangerous during thrills and mock falls." Real falls too, but…no Thread. Sigh.

Nathaniel nods a little, considering all of this as he watches the two throwing darts. Now and then he has a drink of his ale, but he's grown rather quiet during the discussion about why a dragon should obey orders. Finally, he wonders, "Why continue to do mock Falls?"

Th'ero makes a slight 'tsk' like sound with his tongue when Kimmila scores a little better than him at the darts and takes his seat again at the table. Reaching for his ale he will lift in in salute to his weyrmate and smirk crookedly. "To the victor!" he drawls and then takes a long swig of it. Leaning back in his seat, his other hand will rest on his thigh though his fingers press and knead gently in a not so subtle way. Either it's habit or the Weyrleader is trying to settle the dull ache of a still healing injury. "Why? Good question. Tradition, I suppose." Th'ero murmurs, lifting his head slightly to glance to Kimmila. Does she have an idea? Back to Nathaniel, the Weyrleader shrugs. "It's good practice. Dragonriders need to work as teams in Wings and nothing like having to "survive" a mock Threadfall to give the taste of it." Brows knitting together, he is still mulling over that even as he goes on to ask casually. "How have you been? Settling in well?"

Nathaniel seems just a little bit amused when Th'ero can't come up with a good reason for it. "I see. So you might say that it's an unnecessary hold-over from the past?" He has a drink of his ale, and nods at the last question. "Oh, yes. Everyone has been very friendly. I have more requests for different kinds of soap than I could possibly manage, but I'm going to give it a try. I've got a new batch of citrus that's just about ready, by the way."

Th'ero blinks for a moment and he tilts his head as if to judge whether or not he heard and understood Nathaniel correctly. The Weyrleader keeps his smile in place, though it's slipped a bit and his brow knits together as he ponders how to respond and not come off too brisk or clipped. "I wouldn't quite put it like that. It has merits and values, even if being something of the past. Flying a mock fall requires a certain degree of skill and strength. Good for keeping riders and their dragons in shape, not that Thread is a menace and threat any longer. But some of the maneuvers and things learned from these old drills can be applied to the new." he attempts to explain and takes a little more of his ale. Maybe that will help? Likely not. "Good! Always nice to hear that. So business is going well? Excellent. And you've no trouble finding the supplies you need?" Th'ero asks in a curious but polite tone and then chuckles dryly. "Well, I'll just have to see about placing an order then for some of that citrus scent."

"In case Thread returns," is Kimmila's rather frank and controversial answer. "Varmiroth needs me, sorry," she says to both men, though it's to Th'ero that she offers a kiss. "Later," she says to Nathaniel, a promise of marks given in exchange for soap, as she makes her way out.