The Shrining
Who Ibreily, Leimna, Sygni
What Helllooo, Th'erice… I MEAN WHAT. NO. THERE'S NO SHRINE. NEVER.
When Spring, 2711
Where Living Caverns, Fort Weyr

ibbycon1.png SyIcon2.png


Oh right. Flags. Warnings. UHM. Some swearing and general terribleness ahead. BRACE YOURSELVES.

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.


AND SO IT IS, MUCH TO FORT WEYR'S (PROBABLE) DISMAY, that three very-different-but-somehow-chaotically-the-same cousins have been searched and knotted and Leimna is /already/ breaking the promise she made to Thys about Th'ero. /Ibby/ already knows about the shrine (SHE HELPED TO CREATE IT), but Sygni surely has not been privy to it's magnificence yet. AND SO IT BEGINS. The red-head makes her way in, dodging food-minded peers as she veers towards a table that's littered with flowers, a picture, candles that have been burned but are currently out - really, /everything/ you'd expect to find at a shrine. Sans maybe the blood. "And here," she breathes, if her cousins have caught up because really, this woman wouldn't know SLOW DOWN if it punched her stubbornly misguided head, "is where it happened." She will just stand there, with a /look/ upon her face, before depositing a fresh set of petals - which she uses to outline where her body /clearly/ rested when Th'ero pinned her to the table.

To be fair, Thys hadn't made it a pinky promise or a spit pact, so really, could she even expect it to be honored? Not hardly, or so says Sygni's posture, eager as she traipses into the caverns behind Leimna, only kept from being right at the younger girl's elbow by an over-tall rider in her way. "Excuse me," Sygni says, puffing up imperiously until he gets out of her way, and then without a backwards blink or any further to-do, it's onwards to the shrine! Blue eyes glitter with wicked, wicked mirth when she finally draws near, waiting for Ibreily to pull up alongside before she speaks. "Faranth, Lei, but you've outdone yourself," the young woman drawls through a laugh, flipping a chair around so she can straddle it, head hanging low over the chairback so she can observe petals, candles, all with the over-amused, over-solemn air of one taking this very seriously as the joke it is. "Where did you find the picture?," she asks because really, that is the piece de resistance, quick gaze flicking over Th'ero's visage before she turns bright eyes up to Leimna. "It totally makes it."

Ibreily still has little flecks of blood on her shirt, and a puppy strapped baby-style to her back, as she ambles into the caverns behind the other pair. She's a little slower, weaving through crowds to pick up a meat pasty, but the harper-turned-candidate makes it there not long after. "It's not bad. Needs more lights. Those little, flashing ones." Ibby says, seriously, plunging a hand into a pocket to drag up her own offering to the Shrine. It's. It's a severed wherry-head, brightly colored and very much dead. One-handedly taking a large bite out of her pasty, she sets the offering down among the flower petals, poking it too and fro until she's satisfied of the placement. Not seeming at all concerned with this, the canidate turns, lips quirking up in a smirk for the youngest of them. "It does rather pull it all together, doesn't it?" The question might not be terribly easy for most to understand, around a mouthful of pie as it is, but they'll manage. Absently, she holds a bite over her shoulder, chewing contentedly on her appetizer and wiping her hand on her breeches. "Think they'll take it down?"

When Sygni has to use her /business voice/, Leia turns to making shooing motions at HE WHO STAND OBNOXIOUSLY IN THE WAY. And then she grins, but with /mischievousness/ that speaks to how /very/ deliberate this joke /is/. She's not just crazy-stupid-airheaded-fun, she does it /on purpose/. This is her own, special (generally unappreciated) sense of humor. Making Weyrleaders want to murder you? HIIIIIIILLLLAAAARRRIIOUS. "I found it in a book." From which she promptly ripped it out, and she looks completely unrepentant as she reaches out to adjust the drawing of THE BOOTILICIOUSLY ESTEEMED ONE /right/ as Ibby brings in her offering of decapitated wherry. It doesn't bother her /nearly/ as much as it should, blue eyes narrowing on the macabre addition as in a way that says /something/ is missing. Give her one moment and - OH BUT YES. Leia claps her hands together with RADIANT JOY and plucks the remainder of Ibby's pie right out of her fingers. She doesn't even apologize for it, simply sets it on the table to adjust alarmingly close to the wherry head. That is, after all, how it began. "They can try," Leimna breathes then, near-cackling as she returns to her work with the petals. "But it will just keep showing up. Possibly in other places throughout the weyr. /Possibly/ on Th'ero's ledge." She might have to lie to a parent to get herself up there, or call on a particular HUMOR DRIVEN AUNT, but she'll figure it out. "Do you think he'll like it?" OBVIOUSLY NOT.

Blue eyes roll over to Ibreily for her assessment of the shrine and its needs, humming a moment before her head shakes. "Nah. The candles are better. More… heart-felt. Flashing lights'd be too easy, you know. Impersonal. Candles say, 'I've been here often enough during my day to keep this shit lit.' Nobody need know that we're taking shifts at it." Smirky-smirk-smirk. "Plus, there ain't a damn plug in sight around here. It's like being back at Ista," says one that has been enjoying her time spent in high-tech Ierne, and is displeased to return to a land without air conditioning and electric hair dryers. The horror. "Faranth. Table-bent by the Weyrleader and defacing public property. It's a wonder you're still here," Syg clucks in the tone of voice that reads, 'YOU ARE MY COUSIN, AND I AM SO VERY PROUD OF YOU.' Her entire body shakes with barely-contained laughter when Ibby leans in to deposit the wherry-head on the table, humming a sort of strangled-content noise in appreciation that speaks just as equally of her questionable sanity before she leans to be able to dig into her own pockets, fishing out a length of silver chain and the cheap, gaudy locket at its end. Dimples flashing, she clicks the locket open, revealing not pictures, but simply paper, a curving 'L' on the left and a no less decorative 'T' on the right, each black cursive letter framed liberally with red-inked hearts. Sygni waits for Leimna to settle the stolen, half-eaten piece of pie, then adjusts the locket to lay just-so, creating a trifecta of batshit crazy fit enough to mirror the three young women, dangling the chain so that it curves up and over the edge of the picture frame. "There." Her hands dust off as though indicating a job well-done even as she snorts for Leimna's answer, turning in her chair to tuck a foot up under her. "Just be careful, I think Boss means business. I still have my climbing gear from when Aunt Es took us to High Reaches," she adds, JUST IN CASE YOU KNOW. YOU THOUGHT SHE WAS BACKING OUT. No. It's just that big gold butts are very very visible even at night, and Sygni Thinks Of These Things. "Oh, he'll hate it. It's going to be great." And up come both palms, extended for high-fives before Syg focuses all her attention on Ibreily. "Now you owe us a story, little miss." Says the shortest of them. "We met a rider today. Blonde dude. Fancy, despite the mud, and he seemed to have had a very difficult time about his first search. Wanted to avoid it so much again that he tossed Lei's knot down the weyrwoman's tits. Any idea what that was about?"

Briefly, Ibreily looks horrified, like Leia might have committed a serious crime. A book. "Next time," The harper says, again around food. "I'll get you a drawing. We've plenty of artists at the hall." Where she isn't living any more. LOGISTICS. Whatever. And the joy with which Leimna steals her food is the only thing that saves her from a glorious tackle-fight; Ibby still lurches for it mournfully. HER FOOD. "Looks like he's eating it." Ibreily nods, surveying the offering with maternal affection. Contemplating between candles and lights, she has to cede, inclining her head solemnly. "I'll take morning." Magnanimous, the harper offers, lips twisting thoughtfully. "You think Hal still has that great big box of them in storage? I bet he wouldn't mind if we took, say, half." And by 'not mind' she means 'he'll never know'. Clearly. The lack of technology doesn't seem to bother Ibby one way or another — but she does eye Leia with a happy grin. "All grown up and raising whersport. Of course he'll love it." Beam. The final offering gets an impressed lift of her eyebrows; Rei whistles low, and somehow manages not to cackle, reining it in to a pleased kind of huff. Lovely. "Do you think they'd take us back? It was great, until all that snow." The harper's gesture says everything and nothing. She doesn't seem to expect an answer, instead waiting out the question with an expression that suggests nothing good. Sniffing, Rei snatches a passing pastry — its former owner, chatting animatedly, misses this — and shrugs. "Ista." Like she's eaten something bad, Ibby's face scrunches up. Their turn-day shenanigans are possibly forgotten, but not forgiven by all. A'ster's probably high on that list. "I left my dignity there, forgot to bring it back. Might have harked on his boots. A little. And I missed his sharding clothes." HUFF. She's so not the one at fault here. "…how were you supposed to get it out of her tits, though? Shells."

And the look that Leimna gives Ibreily manages to be unrepentant while /still/ somehow apologetic. "Deal." And then she pauses leaning towards the brunette to not-quite-whisper, "Do you think you can get a drawing of his ass?" A shoulder nudge, a bubbly thieving, a wicked bow for Sygni, and then she chokes on her own laughter when the locket is produced and added to the /WONDEROUS THING THAT IS THE THING/. "I'll get the afternoon," she volunteers after Ibby, holding stolen-pie above her shorter cousin's head when she lurches for it before she places it. And then - and then she is being interrupted by a flit. From A PARENT, no doubt. She blinks as the damn thing twitters until she takes a not it's trying to deliver and YOU HAD BETTER BELIEVE IF HOWLERS WERE A THING, she would be on the receiving end of one. As it stands, she looks /delighted/ by whatever's inside. /Still/, she lingers for Ibby's tale and /leans forward/ with a gasp only after returning Sygni's HIGHEST OF FIVES and bouncing excitedly on her heels. "What I would have paid to see the look on his /stupidly good looking face/. Next time, /definitely/ go for the outfit." And then she's arching brows to Syni and whispering, "And /you/ owe ups an explanation about /rider sandwiches/. We can build a second shrine in the bowl, you know. We found plenty of candles." A pause, and then she takes a step back. "But wait for me. I have to go answer this or I'm going to have some company." AND SHE DON'T WANT IT JUST YET. FLEEEEEE.

"It was a worthy sacrifice," Sygni says of the damaged book, a patpat dispensed to Ibby's elbow before the woman issues a painful-sounding snort for Leimna's whisper. "Faranth, please tell me that's a thing. I have so many butts to commission." Still, daytime offerings to keep the Beacons of Keltherodor lit are met with a tilt of her head and a gooey-love expression, hand pressing to her chest. "My girls. You do know how much I love to light up the night." And with that settled, she shifts her hand to tap at her lip, thinking about Hallac's candle stash with slow tap-taps. "You know, he might. Not sure how we're gonna go about getting them though. Got anybody you can bribe yet? I'm already indebted to the only riders I know here," she says with a flare of the dramatic, "so it'll take time." Precious, precious time! And then, as though the universe KNOWS THAT THEY ARE CONSPIRING TO STEAL FROM FAMILY, that flit pops out of between to interrupt Leimna, and Sygni clearly recognizes the thing, for she leans far enough back in her chair that it's almost a recoil and definitely a hiss, hand flicking in a shoo after the 'five is returned MOST HIGHLY. "Yes, for Faranth's sake, don't give them a second to think something's up. I'm sure daddy dearest has already heard of my escape from Ierne," and by that she means he's gotten the bill, because Sygni sure as shit didn't tell him, "and if he thinks for even a second that we're causing trouble here after last week's debacle, he'll be breathing down our necks." And they really don't want that either. She's laughing her way through the theatrics, though, the noise only increasing in fervor for Ibreily's dignity being left back at Ista and all over A'ster's boots. "Yeah, you were uh… Well, 'three sheets to the wind' is just too polite. There were dozens of sheets. Hundreds. I'm impressed you only got his boots." TWINKLE. "And I think that was the point. She wasn't supposed to get the knot outta her tits. But Boss took pity, I think, and made Lei promise she would stop mooning over Weyrleader Grumpypants and quit macking on Blondie in exchange for the knot." Whoops. "But yes. Rider sandwich stories later. Parents now." And off she goes!, Sygni watching after her with a fond sigh and a wry, "They grow up so fast." YOU KNOW. WHAT WITH THOSE FOUR TURNS SHE HAS ON HER. SHHH.

"Of course I can get a drawing of his ass." Ibreily tsks, giving Leia a 'come on, son' kind of look. Sygni's pat-patting gets an appreciative, mournful kind of look. "There's a whole subset which only paints asses. Well. I say asses. Really, it's more…" The candidate trails, gesturing vaguely all-over. She might have continued, too, were it not for the arrival of The Firelizard, and a brief look of terror. Quick determination shows that it is, at least, not directly one of her parents; it's not banded obnoxiously. "It was a good look. Little vein, just here." Tapping her temple, the harper cackles, tuuuuurning around to eye Syg. "Yes, we'll have to hear that one. In detail." A pause, in which a very Zan'ri kind of grin lights up Ibby's face — she beams for the other pair. "But Siggy's fits are fun." She sighs, holding a corner of her filched pastry over her shoulder for her ride-along. The pup eats it like this is normal. Ibreily is not at all aware of the exact number of wind-sheets she was, and the look on her face suggests that she doesn't actually want to, waving Leia off with flappy hands. "That sounds like a promise nobody would keep. Shouldn't count. Unfair grounds." She's a harper. She knows these things. "Don't they just?" She has a whole two. It still counts. Totally. "Syg, you come with me. I know a guy. He owes me a thousand favors. I saved his whole entire ass once. He'll get us in quick and quiet, and he definitely counts as a proper Rider Escort For Candidates." ANDDDDD, BREAK.

"What a life. I should'a been a Harper," Sygni sighs, eyes distant and dreamy-eyed, vividly picturing rows of Harpers painting butts. Butts for days. Pern to Syg, snap out of it~. "But I digress. I vote if it gets taken down, the next picture definitely has to be of his butt, or at least, our very best approximation," she trills before giving Ibreily a slight snort for her temple-tap. "Ah, yes. He was wearing a similar look today, but you know, I'm just not sure the temple veins were standing out quite far enough." You know. Despite the fact that he was tackled. "We'll have to try harder." Faranth. RUN, A'STER, RUN. As for Siggy, "His fits are fun because you only have to endure the first one. Not the second. Or the third. Or the quiet muttering about dignity and disrespect and the disappointed looks that follow for days. I can recite his speech about as well as I can recite your mother's," she says with a huff, playfully scrunched features evening out for her pup-feeding. "Still. I agree. No contract. No spitshake. It was void the moment the knot hit her fingers." And, since they're in agreement on all fronts, Sygni stands when she's bid, issuing a sharp bark of a laugh as she follows her out. "His whole ass?," can be heard as they make their way out. "My, you were feeling generous." And then they're gone!


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