Fort Weyr - Candidate Barracks
Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this cavern has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants in comfort. Set into one of the long walls is a natural hearth area, not as large as some but more then enough to warm the cavern. Before it lays an old, well-worn rug that's colors have faded over turns of being un cared for. Mismatched chairs, an old couch, and a few randomly placed floor pillows finish up the sitting type area where candidates can relax after a long day of chores.
Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses with curtains dividing them for privacy, each made up to the standards of the Weyrwoman. The left hand row of cots is made up with coverlets of brown and trimmed in black for male candidates, while the right hand row is made up with a lighter brown coverlet that's trimmed in white for the female candidates.
Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours, while basket of emergency glows are stored in corners around the cavern for use during power outages.
It's very late at Fort Weyr. The sky is black and moonless with only the stars to provide faint illumination to the Weyr bowl. Nestled safe and sound in their cots, most of the Candidates are soundly snoozing the wee hours away, obeying curfew as any good Candidate should. Of course, not every Candidate is a good one, and some are worse than others. It is exactly this sort of Candidate that is shuffling very quietly under their cot at right this second, carefully extracting their "borrowed" goods. Several cans of paint make an appearance, in at least every shade of the rainbow, and as many brushes as that as well. "Psst," he calls, beckoning another Candidate over.
This Candidate has familiar sandy hair and a lean built. With stealthy steps he makes his way over to the ringleader, kneeling down and starting to help with the cans. "I gotta get Ash up," he murmurs quietly as he picks up a pair of cans and carts them over to where the CompCrafter is sleeping. He sets them down and reaches over to shake her gently, only to find his wrist grabbed, momentarily frozen in shock. "Mmph," she mutters, sitting up, her curls askew. "I don't know why I ever let you talk me into this." "Shh," Nirav cautions. "Just get out of bed and come on." He picks his cans of paint up even as Ashri springs into silent action. That light frame is certainly stealthy. She grabs two cans of paint — ironically green and brown — and trundles toward the barracks entrance next to Nirav. "Now what?" she whispers.
Ironically, for all candidates are misbehaving, Ayana isn't even in the candidate barracks. However, she creeps in, stealthily enough for a Runner, heading for her fake-closed bunk.
Parizi is awake, somehow having caught wind of this little prank being planned. So it's some surprise that she glides out of her cot and looms over the candidates bending over supplies. "Let me in on this or I'm telling," she whispers quietly. She's dressed all in black, and her mouse-brown hair is pulled back into a runner tail. She makes a careful note of the faces gathered around, and smiles tightly.
It would seem not all of the candidates that are still awake in their cots are in on this particular prank. At the sound of rustling and murmured voices, a head partially obscured by tousled curly brown hair pokes out from the curtains around one of the cots on the boy's side of the room. With an exaggerated huff, he does his best to rid himself of the wall of locks that partially obscures his vision. It's easy to tell it's Bernard, one of the tiniest and most annoying of the whole grouping of candidates. There's soft squeaking, the moving of sheets and curtains and the pat-pat-pat of barefeet against cold stone as the pipsqueak of a boy makes his way over to the gathering. "Is that /paint/?" he asks almost breathlessly, as though he might pass out over excitement of the fact. "Can I come? Can I?" He manages to push most of those obscuring locks out of his face enough to let his wide eyes to show out from his round face. Who knows. He might cry and give the game up if he's not allowed to come. So he stands there, looking all wide-eyed and innocent in his too-baggy pajamas and bare feet.
Wyndrei, however, is just arriving to sleep when the posse is gathering up their "gear" and apparently recruiting, her brows furrowing some, sleepily, her double shift of work catching up to her after a long lecture and subsequent note study. She wanders to her cot and falls into it, probably making more noise than the paint brigade would like, rising to one elbow, eyeing them.
Moydeo is there in her bunk, with the drapes closed. But she's not sleeping, only pretending incase one of the WLMs came in. At the sound of soft voices, and footsteps, she gets up, and opens her curtain, slipping out, wearing the darkest clothes she had. "You got everything that's needed?" She says in a hushed tone, and turns to peer at Parizi, of course she'd use black mail. She rolls her eyes Qixove stirs in his cot at the noise that Wyndrei makes. "Huh?"
The ringleader, Renald, looks up at Parizi with his dark eyes, scrutinizing her. "Grab a can," he directs her after a few moments, making a snap decision, as one often must in a situation such as this. He motions to the other rising Candidates, indicating their need for haste as he pulls the last of the cans out from beneath his bed. He nudges one quietly in Bernard's direction. "If you tattle I'll paint /you/," he hisses. It's a warning, likely to both Parizi and the scrub. He grabs two cans of paint himself and heads over to where Nirav and Ashri are crouched. "See anything?" he asks, taller than Nirav by only a few inches.
Nirav shakes his head, having craned his head to look out, the door slightly ajar. "Nothing." He looks back toward the assembling Candidates, noting the attendance of Prissy. "You sure?" he jerks his head toward the girl. "Don't worry, I'll deal with her… if I have to. Let's just go." Nodding, Nirav carefully opens the door just enough to let them slip through, the hinges thankfully oiled to where they don't squeak. Ashri follows, silent, but her shoulders squared confidently. Clearly she has committed herself to this course of action. Renald stands by the door, gesturing the pranksters out with a short sweeping motion. Get moving!
"I won't tattle," Parizi says, grabbing a can of paint and a brush. She's got a bright, lurid red. She sneers at Nirav, but doesn't deign to answer him. Renald's gesture to leave is obeyed, and she sweeps through the door and toward trouble.
Either Bernard doesn't realize he's just been threatened or he's just acting incredibly stupid, but he chimes in happily, "Be sure to paint me green if you do!" Then he seems to realize his squeak of a voice might've been too loud and he immediately clamps a tiny hand over it, looking abashed. Scurrying back over the cavern floor with only the sound of his feet hitting the stone, he rummages semi-silently in his locker until he comes up with some proper outdoor attire. He nearly falls over three times trying to put things on, but eventually wobbles his way back to the group in overlarge boots and a baggy black coat. Eagerly, he snatches up one of the paint cans with both hands and carries it awkwardly towards the door. It's rather ungainly for him, as he has to carry it with both of his hands and the thing keeps swinging like a pendulum. "This is going to be great!" he hisses in an almost-too-loud stage whisper as he follows everyone out the door. He's almost vibrating with excitement. Hopefully he doesn't wet himself and leave a trail for the AWLMs to follow.
Wyndrei watches them all and listens then blinks and turns to sit back up, is she moving to go with them? She narrows her eyes and glances to Ashri and Nirev, head tilted, brows wrinkling, a similar look given to Moydeo. "What are ya'll doin??" she asks in a hushed tone toward the group. Bernard's squeaks draw a blinks and she gawks at her friends, "What are you painting?!" she asks, still in a whisper.
Moydeo silently grabs up a can of paint, and grins as she heads out the door, probably grabbing a paintbrush as she goes too. Qixove gets the gist of it, and looks to Wyndrei. "A prank." He says in a hush tone, and grabs a paint can, before he slips out into the dark as well.
Setting his cans of paint down, Renald slips through the shadows like a ghost until he's right next to Wyndrei, looming over her with a too-sweet smile. "Just some early spring cleaning, my dear," he murmurs into her head. "It'll be a nice surprise come morning. Now," he pauses, Qixove getting a look that could melt steel before the dark-eyed Candidate turns back to the Dragonhealer, "you're welcome to join us, my dear, but if you would rather sleep, I understand. I merely /suggest/ that you pretend this was only a dream if that be the case." His threat is veiled but there. "Rest well, my dear." And with that he's back by his cans of paint, snatching them up and jerking his head one more time at the lingering members of his crew. Get out there already!
Nirav plasters himself against the wall upon exiting the barracks, Ashri quick to catch on and follow suit as Nirav's keen eyes survey the landscape for potential hazards. But the Weyr bowl is empty. The watch rider is silent, perhaps even asleep. All is well except for the Candidates sneaking out of the barracks. Nirav gestures to those who are slipping out, indicating that they should keep themselves equally hidden. Another flick of his sapphire spheres and he's gesturing for them to follow. First stop: the northern half of the bowl.
Parizi's lips are pressed firmly together with a downward tilt at the corners a she leaves, and she looks neither right nor left until Bernard squeaks. Then he gets a steely gray-eyed glare and a disapproving sniff. When Parizi sees Wyndrei, she looks away. She knows that Wyndrei is Milo's sister. Hm. Perhaps her scheme won't go as planned, after all.
Wyn glances up at Renald and frowns at his… too-sweet offer and suggestion then sighs, glancing to the group. She shakes her head as they all start for the bowl, "I didn't see them I didn't see them I didn't see them.." Wyn mutters to herself in a little chant then she turns and lays back down, pulling the covers up to her ears. "Or hear them.." she mutters then the covers go overhead. "Just wait til the firelizards start talking.." she says to herself, then content she's had enough one-on-one conversation, closes her eyes and lets herself drift off, who knows what tomorrow will bring, likely something colorful. If only that were a good thing.
In her black clothes, Parizi blends in fairly well, the night cloaking her. Only her pale face and hands are a give-away. The fact that Wyndrei didn't join them pleases her. She looks out over her fellow mischief-makers, a challenge in her stare. And then, without waiting for them to start, she dips her brush into the vivid red pigment and starts painting - not a picture, but words.
Moydeo nods to Nirav, and, and moves along the wall, silently, and as stealthily as she can, carefully carrying her paint can as she goes. She heads for the northern part of the bowl, following those in the lead. Qixove being one of the last to leave, follows near the tail end of the group, carrying his own paint can. Moydeo looks around, and finds a spot, as she sets down her can, and dips her brush into the pale blue color. She starts painting random shapes. Qixove starts painting as well, with a deep purple color.
Stealth isn't Bernard's strong suit, though that might be more due to the fact his clothes aren't the right fit for him. Off he waddles into the bowl behind the rest of the group, his paint can swinging precariously between his legs as he half-hops along. Each step with those massive boots and that trailing coat hem makes fora tripping hazard every second. Somehow he contrives to stay upright, despite the fact his toe catches on several loose stones. He crouches low in some mockery of a renegade fashion as he scoots along behind everyone else.. And what is he humming quietly to himself? It sounds like he's made up his own theme music for the occasion. The tinny hummed tune isn't loud enough to carry far, but those in the group are likely to hear it. He nearly falls over as he backpedals to a stop when Parizi suddenly begins to paint, his theme song cutting off short with a squeak. "I thought we were supposed to paint pictures?" he half-whispers, staring wide-eyed at the message.
Renald is /always/ in black, and tonight is no exception. His long, lanky frame moves with cat-like grace through the shadows, clearly having turns of practice at this sort of thing. He hisses at Bernard, a sound that could certainly be described as venomous. "Paint whatever you like, but if you value your masculinity, keep /quiet/." He's up behind the tiny lad, having to crouch to spit into his words into the boy's ear. "Now either start painting or leave." He surveys the rest of his motley crew, his dark eyes flicking toward Parizi and the lurid words she's sketching out. Saying nothing, he finds an empty spot of the wall for himself, lips curling upwards in a smile that is certainly not nice as he cracks open his paint buckets. One is a deep ebon, the other is a horrid shade of putrid green. He begins.
Nirav throws a dagger look toward Bernard, but fortunately Renald deals with it before the Printer has to. His attentions turn to Ashri then, a broad grin splitting his face. Unlike the ringleader, however, his expression is one of excitement and eagerness as he kneels and pops the can lids off, revealing a deep harper blue and an intense white. He gestures encouragement to Ashri as he dips his brush into the blue, starting to address his canvas with love. Ashri looks at her cans, swallowing. "No turning back now," she tells herself softly. "Gotta live in the moment." And with that little mantra she flips hers open, dipping into the earthy brown and starting to mural the wall before her.
"Paint whatever you want," Parizi hisses at Bernard, not stopping to glance down at him. "Scatter, boy, I'm going to cover this whole area." Whether or not he obeys her is up to him, but she's not making him welcome. So far she's painted the following letters, two feet high: M-I-L-O-D, and she's working on what looks to be an A. Renald gets a rather approving glance for how he deals with Bernard. Once Nirav and Jayashri start painting, her stance relaxes a little bit. No one is going to back out, now.
Bernard grabs a nearby paint brush and salutes clumsily with it, nearly knocking himself in the head in the process as he replies in a hushed tone, "Masculinity! Value! check!" Who knows if that actually means he understands it, but he atleast starts to do what he's supposed to do - paint. Bending over awkwardly, he pries his fingernails underneath the lid and strains to open it. It pops open with a start, causing the tiny boy to stumble and fall right on his behind. He immediately lapses into a fit of silent giggles as he scrambles back to his feet. It turns out the paint in his can is a shade of baby pink, oddly enough. Completely nonplussed by this, he dips the brush into it and lifts the thing in both hands like a giant sword. "You write nicely!" he whispers at Parizi brightly, his tiny face almost pinched with the effort of smiling so wide. He does obey her, though, and ambles a few feet down to a more open spot. Standing on his tiptoes, he swings his arms in a wide circle to paint a giant oval on the wall. His tongue is stuck between his lips in concentration the entire time. It's hard painting circles, you know.
Moydeo glances over at Bernard, and Parizi, and shakes her head, as she goes back to her work, making the vague shape of firelizards. She looks at Bernard again, and chuckles quietly again, man, he was like one of the weyrbrats, it was strangely cute though. Qixove continues his work, making squiggly lines.
A horrific black shape is being formed with a strangely loving hand by Renald, his strokes broad yet precise as the unknown being takes shape on the Weyr wall. He smirks after Bernard as the scrub scatters, eyes narrowing as he continues to stay aware of his surroundings. It would not do, after all, to come this far only to be caught by an insomniac resident, particularly a rider. Bending his knees, he reaches down and grabs the second paint brush, dipping it into the horrid green and painting what are clearly supposed to be eyes, fathomless and staring into the depths of the soul, unblinking and unyielding.
Though Nirav does not own /black/ per se, he did have the insight to wear his darkest blues on this moonless night. His work is of a practiced hand. Perhaps not as good as Milo's, but certainly with a flair all its own. Surreal shapes take form across a midnight canvas, abstract splashes of white playing across the intensely dark blue in a display not unlike a collection of clouds, yet with more substance and form than a mere water vapor could have, while still leaving much to the imagination. Ashri it seems, has absconded with /someone's/ black coat. Her cinnamon hair is bright in contrast, but even that is now mostly tucked under the collar, unruly, but at least out of the way. Her earthen canvas is taking vague shape now as she begins to paint the green over it in a variety of shapes. Some are more obviously plant-like, whereas others seem to be feeding off Nirav's abstract cloudscape. As above so below.
Parizi glances at Bernard out of the corner of her eye. His bright enthusiasm seems to grate on her nerves. "Thanks," she mumbles. His large pink circle gets a curious sort of glare, but she concentrates on her work. M-I-L-O-D-A-N L-O-V-E-S is so far boldly emblazoned, and a careful E is painted onto the stone. She looks grim, though a bit of a smirk is starting to form. "This'll teach him to make fun of me," she mutters to herself.
Bernard staggers back, his paintbrush dropping a fraction as he examines his work critically. He even attempts that artist sort of look where he squints first with one eye and then the other, as though gauging just how accurate his bright pink oval is. Drip. Drip. Globules of pink paint splatter on the ground at his feet as he looks at his work. Then his eyes wander to Ashri's work and the others, "Wow! Those are great. It looks like .. wow. Like all this dirt was coming up to eat some grass and it sort of blew into the clouds." All this is said in a rather high pitched whisper and /very/ fast, as though he were in a rush to get it all out of him. Once all the words are gone, though, he has to take a giant sucking breath that nearly knocks him over. Then he goes back to his own 'masterpiece' and reaches up to his full height to draw an oblong oval at the top left corner of the fatter oval. It looks like a head or something. He positively beams at it. It's the best oval in the whole of Pern. He turns to Parizi and beams even wider, "I like your letters, too!" Atleast he's speaking all in whispers, still. Or trying to. He still seems about to explode with excitement.
Moydeo doesn't own black either, but is wearing her darkest brown to blend in, and work, as she paints distant mountains, and more 'firelizards' Qixove comes to work by Bernard, as he seems to help the boy in his drawing, this was going to be fun. He raises an eybrow at the letters made by Parizi, and he silently snickers.
Rather than just the normal pair of eyes that one finds on most organisms on Pern, Renald is not content with only two soulless eyes to stare at whoever is unfortunate enough to pass by. No, several more eyes are painted onto this black horror and left an uneven number to further accent the unnatural nature of this beast before he begins to start on a gaping maw before Bernard's whispers catch his ears and he raises his brush, hissing a warning. "Masculinity," he reminds, the green paint dripping onto the ground, though fortunately not /on/ anyone. Yet. "Hurry up. We move soon," he informs them before returning to his mural.
Nirav winces, something that might be more obviously visible in more light, but as it stands there is hardly enough light to see what they are painting, though thankfully pupils have dilated to the point where things are as visible as they are going to be. And to boot, any incoming light will be visible /meters/ away. His abstract cloudscape receives several more generous donations of paint before he steps back, giving it a scrutinizing look and then looking down at Jay and her work. The CompCrafter has painted something that vaguely resembles circuit boards into the earth as well along with the plant life, as though technology itself were somehow growing. It's strange and perhaps in a way disturbing. But she seems to be drawing to a close herself, heeding Renald's warning.
"Keep quiet!" Parizi hisses at Barnard. She stares at this creation, a bit perplexed. "What is that supposed to be?" she whispers. There is a glance around at Moydeo and Qixove, but Renald's warning is heeded. "Almost done," she whispers to him. The rest of the phrase is painted in. MILODAN LOVES ELISIANA. And just for good effect, she splls some of the paint onto the ground and steps into it. If anyone's paying attention, they'll see that she's not wearing her own light tan boots - these are too big for her, and seem to be a man's.
Bernard jumps a little at the reminder, nearly dropping his brush in the process and letting out a tiny squeak. He manages to cling to the handle and dips the bristles into the pink paint to coat them liberally before brandishing it at the wall again. This time he can't seem to help himself - he starts to hum that odd theme song under his breath as he works. First there are a couple of triangle type things on the oblong shape for ears, a dot for an eye. Then four straight lines coming out of the body for some legs and a curly tail poking out the end. Then, with a final flourish, Bernard adds some cartoon wings onto the back of the rather badly drawn porcine. Staggering back and trailing a few globs of pink paint along the way, he beams around at those assembled as though waiting for applause, "It's a porcine! With wings!" Just in case anyone wasn't able to tell from his masterful representation of it. Parizi gets the biggest grin ever and he wiggles his brush at her boots, "You put on the wrong boots, you know? Those are guy boots!" He silently giggles at his own witty whisperings.
Moydeo looks up hearing Renald, and nods to him, as she quickly works to finish up hers. She looks up, and smothers a laugh at Parizi's message. Qixove, looks up, and nods, as he finishes up his random drawing, and picks up his paint can, placing his brush across the top of it, as he waits to move on. Moydeo finishes hers as well, and gathers up her can and brush.
And there Renald is again, standing behind Bernard. This time the shady man curls his fingers around the scrub's right shoulder, digging in slightly. "If you are quite done, I suggest you get your can and follow us /quietly/ or else you /will/ be green." The hissing baritone indicates to anyone with half a brain that this is not going to be the nice sort of green either. Letting the midget go with a rather forceful movement that is likely to propel the tiny thing toward his paint can, Renald strides over to his own supplies, adding a final touch to his grotesque creation: greenish flames about the hungry maw. Then lids snap onto the paint cans and he grabs them and his brushes. gesturing with his head as he slinks toward the center bowl.
Nirav snaps the lids back on his two paint cans as Ashri finishes up, careful to wipe away excess paint from his brushes so as to avoid giving their direction away to any one who might have the misfortune to pass by. His eyes widen as he spies Parizi's antics. "You idiot," he hisses at her. "They'll see those tracks for sure." He looks at his can of white paint, unsure whether he should try to cover it up or not, but with a little growl and a matching scowl he follows after Renald instead. Ashri looks up and spies the writing now that it is complete and it certainly doesn't take her long to figure out what the wench is trying to do. Her frame quivers for half a second in ire before she snatches up her own paint cans and follows Nirav. Best to deal with it on the way back.
Parizi arches a cool eyebrow at Bernard. "I know whose boots these are," she says, and makes sure to step into the paint. Then she picks up the pail and holds the brush away from her, and waits to follow the others to their next destination. She admires Renald's art for a moment, and turns to smirk at Nirav. "That's the point," she says quietly and calmly, in a near-whisper. "I'm going to implicate someone else for this." She glances back at the names written so large in such an eye-catching color. One guess as to who.
Despite the late hour, Joseph still isn't in the candidate barracks; he's been wandering around Elsewhere. He manages to trot in, however, just at the end of these paintbased shenannigans. It takes a moment for him to realize what's happening, but with the brightly painted things everywhere, and the candidates wielding the offending paint, he puts two and two together. "Are we painting murals?" A wicked grin comes to his face, "Can I join in?"
Moydeo snaps her lid back on her can, and moves to follow the others, yes, deal with it on the way back, good idea. She slinks into the center bowl, and takes up a spot to start again. She waves to Joseph. "Sure, just keep quiet!" She says in a hushed tone to him Qixove closes his own can, and follows the others into the center bowl, finding a spot for himself.
Bernard lets out a soft yelp as an iron fist of sorts clamps onto his shoulder. "Green!" he whimpers quietly, barely audible, "I get it!" As he's released, he does indeed stumble forward and nearly knocks over his can of paint. There's a soft thud and a good splash of pink goes flying towards the recently finished flying porcine. Now it looks like the thing is bleeding onto the ground, considering half the paint is running in long drips down the stone. Bernard swallows a sad whimper at the ruin of his masterpiece, but manages to snap the lid on his own can shut with some difficulty and hook his paint brush through the top for ease of carrying. With a sniffle, he snatches up the handle and canters after the rest. "But they'll be mad you got paint all over them," he hisses in response to Parizi. Poor innocent Bernard. It doesn't take long for his enthusiasm to kick back in, though, as he's soon whispering /very/ quietly, "I'm going to paint something even /better/ this time." Beam. Squee and all that.
It does not take Renald long to find a spot to begin defacing again. After all, time is of the essence. His familiarity with such things is quite clear from the way he moves however, with nary a movement frivolous or wasted. Midnight is once again his canvas of nightmare, the void conjurer of all things unknown and hideous. Green lends itself well as he paints what seems to be a concoction brewing a shade of chartruese. His dark orbs flit to the newcomer, a soft appraising hiss falling from his lips before he recognizes Joe and it turns into a smirk. No problems there after all.
Nirav finds a spot first, this time performing a white wash to make his canvas before abstract blues are applied in strange designs unseen and unknown hitherto. His pace is quickened from his previous work, perhaps his arm having had a chance to warm up to the task at hand. Ashri finds a spot not too far off herself and begins to paint another brown canvas, placing upon it evergreens, yet the branches are not graced with leaves, but rather circuit boards, yet lain in such a way that one would have to look quite closely to determine this fact. Her hazel eyes dart periodically to Prissy, a sour expression almost mirroring the pinched one perpetually on Parizi's.
Parizi starts when Joseph appears out of the darkness, but when he asks to join, she relaxes. "Sure," she says, and hands over the red paint to him. She follows the others, leaving red footprints for half a dozen strides before the ground soaks up the excess. It's still on the boots, though, and not easily washed off. She spares Bernard another irritated glance and lengthens her stride to outdistance him. Once at their next stop, she's quick to work. From out of a pocket she produces a piece of paper, upon which is drawn a portrait the Weyrwoman. The drawing is sensitively done, displaying Kessa in a lifelike manner that captures the woman's winsom air nicely Using this as a reference, Parizi starts painting, too, starting with pink and light oranges mixes with whites for the skin. It seems that, with a reference, Parizi isn't a bad artist, herself, though a discerning eye could easily tell that she's not really nearly as good as Milodann.
Joseph grins at them, pleased to have encountered no problems. Then again, for an act of mischief, who would expect Joseph to raise objections? "Will do." he whispers to Moy, nodding a thanks to Parizi as she hands him the red paint. "Didn't expect to see you here." he says to her, in undertone, before moving off and finding a place on the wall to paint. His can's red, but he begins to outline a dragon on the wall anyway- maybe it's an exceptionally vibrant brown?
Bernard wobbles his way over to a blank bit of wall and clunks his can down onto the ground in front of him. He's a lot more successful in prying the lid from his paint can this time and hardly staggers at all when the seal breaks. Snatching up his paint brush, he dunks it several times into the remainder of his pink paint before turning to face the stone. There he stands motionless, staring with a furrowed brow at it as though something might pop into existence of its own accord. Then, like a light being switched on, a face-splitting beam crosses his face and he gets to work. A splash here. A line drawn there. It looks vaguely circular with squiggles coming out at odd angles. A face? It's hard to tell, but Bernard is obviously fond of it. He nearly starts to hum that theme song of his again, but cuts himself off short before anyone can hear him. No need to be turned green prematurely. Parizi's artwork is eyed for a moment and he breaks into another bright beam, "Did you do that yourself? It is like the best ever!" The last word gets a bit loud, but he manages to stop himself before he rises to an audible pitch. Oops.
Moydeo works for a blue canvas, this time working on the shapes of dragons, though they're not very detailed, as she's not the best artist in the world. The colors aren't very varied either, being all blues. Qixove picks up his random drawings, of asquiggly lines, and otherwise, moving to do them in random spots around the other.
If Renald could shoot daggers from the depths of his void-like gaze they would be firing at Bernard right now. "Put a sock in it," he hisses. Clearly if the lad does not comply Renald has no problem /forcing/ the scrub to comply. His drawing is certainly coming together, however, as hands float over the goo-filled cauldron, a pair of eyes hovering above that. The hands are more like claws, however, and their shape is horribly gnarled, leaving much to be imagined as to what the rest of this creation might look like outside the cover of shadow. Certainly a creature of madness lurks beneath the surface here. But the rest shall be imagined, for Renald is starting on a new section of the bowl wall.
Nirav's drawing serves little seeming purpose. It lacks direction in this instance, but rather leaves much up to the imagination of the viewer, signs, shapes and symbols creations of the imagination or perhaps drawn from references mostly unknown to the average Pernese. Still, they do form an interesting canvas, and some have begun to take on more familiar shapes, as if a dream trying to be reality. Ashri's evergreen circuit boards have become suitably numerous for the CompCrafter and she moves to a new surface, her short form unable to paint as high as the rest of them. She wanders over to where Joe is painting, offering ht brush brush to him. "Wanna share?" she offers in a nearly inaudible breath.
"Well you don't really know me well enough to expect anything of me, do you?" Parizi asks Joseph cooly. She glances over at Bernard. "No, I didn't draw this. That arrogant Eastern trouble-maker did." She scowls a little bit, and checks her painting against the drawing done by Milodann. It's fairly accurate. Carefully, she draws horns poking out through Kessa's hair, and then adds a goatee and a mustache. Stepping back to see the Weyrwoman's defaced image, she smirks to herself. Another little puddle of black paint, which she is careful to tread in, and Parizi nods to Renald. "My damage here is done," she tells him, setting down her paint and the brush. "I'm going to bed. You have fun." And off she goes, her black boot-prints, too large for her feet, headed straight for the Candidate barracks.
Joseph eyes Bernard, unperturbed. "Where's the fun if there's no risk of getting caught?" He says, his voice a whisper loud enough for the small group to her. He seems to take a bit of a hint, though, because his voice is quieter then it was before, even if he's not completely silent. "Sure," he says to Ashri, taking the green brush and passing her the red. This suits a dragon much better. Next to the rough "Brown" he just drew, he adds a green dragon. Parizi gets a raised eyebrow, particularly when he takes in the subject matter she just drew, but he says nothing.
Bernard blinks his wide-eyed gaze at Renald - all innocence and light, "I left my socks in the dorm!" This is all said in a hushed whisper that's barely audible, considering the fact he's mainly just mouthing the words to him. Still, he gives the man a thumbs up and a beam before going back to his own monstrousity. He jabs a few times at the wall with the brush, creating eyes and a nose and some other features. The weight of the brush is almost too much for him and giant drips often marr his work, not that he seems to mind. Huffing a bit with the effort, he staggers back a little and gestures dramatically at the picture, "It's Parizi!" Too bad that the girl has already left and can't see his masterpiece - a fact which makes him pout visibly, his lower lip jutting out sadly. Not that the image looks anything like Parizi, bar it being vaguely human head shaped. Bernard brightens momentarily at the portrait of the Weyrwoman on the wall and comments in his stage whisper, "It's good but I don't like the horns and the beard."
Moydeo blinks, and looks up at the picture, and chuckles quietly. "Nice." She says, and continues to paint on her part of the wall, this was fun, and the punishment would be so worth it.Qixove keeps working silently.
Renald's latest work seems to be something that defies explanation and perhaps even form, as strange tentacles and other appendages reach forth from the darkness in a horribly putrid shade But the unknown as to the form of the rest of the beast or beasts is what makes it truly horrific, as the mind plays tricks upon itself. The defaced image of the Weyrwoman receives an approving smile from the swarthy Candidate, a horrible thing to behold. He does watch the trail she is leaving with a certain amount of annoyance, but so long as he does not get blamed he does not care and as such he moves further down the wall, getting into the more southern end now.
Nirav's mural seems to have turned into an abstract beach scene now, with clouds and seagulls, waves, and strange designs tying the whole mass together. Solid patches are color are hard to come by with all the swirls and tribal shapes, yet it gets the point across. Stepping back he admires his work for a moment before scooting over to where Ashri and Joseph are, starting to add sky and clouds to the dragon-scape. Ashri takes the red from him and starts to create flames pouring forth from the dragon's mouths, using some of Nirav's white to lend it more heat in the core, a slightly more noble mural taking shape under their three pairs of hands.
Joseph grins, liking this expansion of his scene. He concentrates mostly on the dragons, mixing colors occasionally to create some shading and odd markings. He even uses the white— waiting until the other two candidates are done, of course— to add some thread falling right into the dragons' flames. Take that, parasitic menace in paint form!
Bernard bends forward happily and swirls his paint brush vigorously into the remainder of his pink paint. Droplets go flying every which way, but he doesn't seem to care. With a floursih he yanks the handle up and is rewarded with a spray of paint that splatters across the rock in an artistic sort of way. Delighting in this new style, he starts flying the brush at the bowl wall with wild abandon. Splash. Drip. Flick. It looks like a bunch of paint cans attacked the wall, now, but Bernard is having fun anyhow. Having too much fun to go squealing or yelling or doing anything he might've been doing before. That's got to be a plus for those present.
Moydeo ooohs softly at Nirav's portrait. "Nice!" She whispers towards him, and grins at Joseph's mural as she keeps working on her own, or the same if they're working together, whatever. Qixove paints around the entrance to the living caverns, or, at least as high as he can reach, depending on how tall the doorway is.
Finishing up the final grotesque mural, Renald cleans off his brushes as best as he is able, sealing the paint into the cans. Picking up the brushes and the cans he moves past Qixove, murmuring. "Finish up, we're done here." Clearly the general thinks his troops have done enough damage. He moves toward Moydeo, murmuring something similar before he stops to peer at what Bernard has done. "Enough, boy, we're done." He's close enough to Nirav, Ashri and Joseph that they'll likely hear him as well, and if they don't, well, he jerks his head toward the barracks to indicate their next move.
It doesn't take Nirav long to finish up the sky and clouds and he seals the blue after adding a blue Dragon of his own to the scene, picking up the can and paint brush while he waits for Ashri and Joseph to finish with the white. Ashri finishes adding her flair to the scene, including a earthy brown and a dainty green, sealing the cans and picking them up as she eyes the Weyrwoman's defaced portraits, her gaze roaming back toward where they started before starting to shuffle back the way they came, Nirav following once Joseph finished with the white can.
Moydeo finishes up her own, and seals the can up, nodding to Renal, before she starts to sneak back to the barracks. Qixove finishes up, and seals his can as well, and sneaks after the others. Luckily their eeyes had long since adjusted to the darkness, so it wasn't that hard.
Bernard nearly stumbles and falls as he attempts to stop mid-swipe with his paint brush at Renald's words. Thankfully he manages to catch himself before a disaster happens and he lets out a very whiny sigh, "I was just getting started." His lamentable artwork is given a forlorn look before he reluctantly goes to snap his paint can shut and make some attempt to clean up the pink paint off the brush without getting any on himself. Plucking the can up, he holds the thing away from him as though it were about to explode as he trots as stealthily as possible back towards the barracks. And he's back to humming that theme song again in a low undertone. Stealthy, Bernard, very stealthy.
Joseph smiles widely to Moy, nodding. "Thank you." he responds, before looking at Bernard's manic pink attack of the wall. "Nice," he comments. "I like the randomness." he puts the finishing touches on his mural, and then deposits the brush in the can, stepping back and regarding it happily. "I think I'm done." he says quietly to himself, looking at the dragon scene before him.
With a satisfied grin, Renald surveys the damage before hefting his own paint cans and bringing up the rear of the motley crew. No doubt the results come morning will be most interesting for the Candidates. Or perhaps the Weyr will appreciate the artistic work done. Either way, it's mission accomplished as far as the shady Candidate is concerned. Now to dispose of the evidence. "Hehe, I wonder what A'tien will think of /this/." Now to catch some sleep before they catch it.
