Hatching Sands
The sands. The most prominant and possibly most important area for a weyr, this section of Fort is no exception to the rule. Completely enclosed from the outside elements by a high rounded ceiling, the golden white sand glitters under the streams of sunlight that manage to make their way in from the upper openings. Ledges abound in the upper areas of the dome, perfect for riders and their dragons to watch the action happening on the ground. At the back of the sands there appears to be a raised section of sand, built over generations by the golds who have laid clutches here, a couch of sorts for basking on while protecting their eggs. Slightly to one side of that, a small nook has been carved for the weyrwoman to take respite from the heat of the cavern.

Nothing is on fire. That's actually because the sands were totally on fire a few clutches ago, and everyone's still a bit over it; there are some rocks that didn't used to be there, though, debris from some of the more recent cave-in aftershocks. Kouzevelth has wound her very long tail around her squished-together mound of six eggs, all grouped together just in case more things fall from the sky. In a tiny pile, she can protect them better. Inri looks as if she's recently claimed the gold's paw as a table, and also looks … tired, and like she needs dinner, but her attention is firmly in the paperwork in her hand.

Rinxyth has never moved from the sands except for very short trips. Food mostly. Once and awhile to stretch his legs and his wings. Ashwin has come and gone. The latter has been very apologetic but there is nothing else for it. He runs the police and security wing and with the cavern collapses there are people trying to get where they should not be. There are people that need to be moved and people that are doing things that they are not supposed to be. It has been a very busy time for him. Rinxyth has been a dutiful enough father for them both. When Kouzevelth is not there he is, curled in much the same posture and shooting threatning looks at anyone who comes near. Though he is the smaller he is the angrier of the two and his protective instincts rival even that of a queen. He has been active in the moving of them too. When there is work to be done he joins her. He has not been much for conversation but a quiet and looming presence. If she knew him better, Kouzevelth would see serenity in the angry brown that is not usually present. But what's this? Ashwin has arrived. He carries a basket under one arm and looks beyond drained himself but still he lugs it. "Permission to approach the table?" He asks. The tone is only half sarcastic. "We haven't been able to make coming for dinner work so I've brought it with me."

"Dinner's been a disaster," Inri agrees, and that agreement in her voice and extension of her hand means it's generally an agreement to everything. "I would normally be going to the Gemstone to eat five meals a day — that's the bar that used to be mine, after all — but Kouzevelth won't let me even think about leaving." There's a sigh to that comment, because Kouzevelth won't even let her think about leaving the sands themselves, not just the Weyr. Inri has to stay whenever she needs to stretch her wings, too. Even with Rinxyth there. She trusts Rinxyth, but … not to be her eyes. Inri barely manages to escape. "Which makes me a sitting duck for things like the Steward yelling at me about expenditures and budgets and I'm not even allowed to just tell him he's cranky."

"Fort is kind of a disaster right now." Ashwin says deadpan. "Not just dinner." He's helpful though as he sets the basket down. He looks up at Kouzevelth briefly. "Wiggle one claw if it's acceptable if we continue to use your hand as a table please. If you are ticklish I'd hate to have dinner ruined." Half sarcasm again but some truth there for sure. He wanders his eyes along the queen as he ponders having to eat sleep and breathe sands. He doesn't envy her at all. "Will she let you arrange for some delivery? If not I'll see about bringing it myself. I can't do five times a day. Too busy. But I can probably do twice." There is a bit of what boils close to guilt in his voice. He should have noticed that earlier and looked after her better. "Why aern't you allowed to tell him something obscene because you have other duties right now? It's about all you can do to put up with the heat and the need to be here. You'd think that there would be some kind of exhempting for you from the rest of this nonsense." And that is what it is to Ashwin. Nonsense. There's too much going on right now to be concerned about expenditures.

Inri never verbalizes her needs. She's a problem child like that. It's certainly not Ashwin's fault. Kouzevelth doesn't seem to think so either; she gives a sociable snort in the direction of the top of the wingleader's head, and wiggles the claw next to Inri (and not the one she's sitting on) obediently. It is the obedience of a queen, who knows she doesn't need to, but is nonetheless amused by the request. Still, effective. "In reverse order — if there were someone to deliver things, like there had been before, I'm sure I could. Between kitchen staff and my weyrmate," Inri shrugs. Neither are present anymore. The evacuated kitchen staff, the weyrmate she doesn't have. "And this is my main duty, actually. As in, pretty much always." Math weyrwoman. "I don't like imagining the sands as a sort of vacation. If I want a vacation, I'll go to Emerald Isle. I can still do work." She can also still do a LOT of knitting.

Problem child indeed. It is a potential problem but it's still one that Ashwin can at least ponder solving. "Thank you. Very appreciated." He returns to the snorting gold and settles down on one of the claws. He has brought a heavy meal. Wrapped in paper are steak sandwiches. Still hot. These were not made by the weyr's kitchen either. Something home cooked. Not terribly complicated but hearty and warm. They are on the side of having too much meat on them than too little. "Vacation?" Ashwin queries. He scratches his head. "What's this strange V-word that you mentioned? I've never heard that before much less had one." He can only joke so much though. To go with the sandwiches are corn on the cob and a tossed side salad. He even remembered a bottle of dressing. "Anyway. Business before we relax. If I sent a guard as part of his patrol duties to bring you food would Kouzevelth eat him? I'm not convinced Rinxyth wouldn't but he could bring it as far as the end of the tunnel." Now that he's gotten that out he can nod at her. He respects a work ethic as much as anyone else. All of the math would probably make him sick though.

If Kouzevelth could flame, the suggestion of her eating someone would be where those flames would come out. Alas, but she cannot, even if she can share the thought of guard flambe all around with everyone. Inri rolls her eyes, despite her laughter. "I sometimes go on day trips," she explains, first, and then, "She allows people up to the edge of the sands, and I can walk to meet them. That's never been a problem. And she loves having candidates out here meeting the eggs, so you could just have one of them deliver it." Inri's precious candidates, in their … tent barracks. This is definitely the worst clutch ever and she's determined to have it work out well somehow.

Log is incomplete, but I just wanted to make sure part of it got posted!

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