Trapped in a Closet

Fort Weyr - Dusty Storage Closet
Cramped and cluttered, this dusty storage closet is likely not the most pleasant of spaces. Wooden shelves line the stone walls, filled with all manner of cleaning supplies. Mops and buckets, and old washing rags are are tossed in musty corners, while odds and ends are jammed together beside more useful items such as coiled rope and empty jars. A single dim electric bulb, newly installed at the back, but barely enough to illuminate anything, provides a weak and oft-flickering light when a switch near the door is pressed. There are glowbaskets too, that hang from the ceiling, although these do little to chase the shadows. The occasional cobweb or crawling critter can be seen, peeking amongst the rest of the junk stored in here.


It's a dark, wet autumn day with the dull and dreary skies unleashing with heavy downpour that looks to last well past lunch and into the afternoon. On top of that it is cold and a little windy, making any work or travel outdoors to be potentially miserable. So is it any wonder that most weyrfolk find reason to be indoors, even if it means dull and boring chores or paperwork? Not at all. The caverns are full and even Shenanigan's sees a higher than average surge of visitors for the hour, many of which are clustered about some off to the side hole in the wall. Literally! Seems someone found a neglected closet after stumbling into it (literally) from being pushed when a minor scuffle broke out and curiosity trumps boredom any day for many. The closet doesn't yield any treasures, save perhaps that… uh, garish tapestry (which is the source of much flustered reaction from the Headwoman when she hears of it!). It may the tapestry itself that allows word to spread or it's just by fluke and luck that Th'ero is passing through and the Weyrleader strides forwards and starts to disperse the crowd. Nothing to see here, go on!

Ezra is always drawn to curiosities, and the closet is no exception. Small ale in hand, the young Stonehaven heir meanders over after Th'ero, peering into the closet. "What's so interesting about a closet?" he asks, squinting inside.

A commotion is also an excellent way to attract an Inri, for all that the weyrwoman usually avoids Shenanigan's. Why? Because it's sort of like the Gemstone's competition, in a way. That doesn't mean that when there's any sort of crowd it doesn't call her attention, and she'd been close enough to hear all the noise. So now she's actually trailing behind Ezra, attempting to look over Th'ero's shoulder, which doesn't work too well for her. "Someone find the meaning of life in there?"

Commotion breaking out in the Shenanigan Lounge really shouldn't be that much of an oddity. Those who caused it are long gone, the crowd who followed in their wake now dispersing, leaving the late comers to try and cobble together WHY there is so much interest to begin with. Th'ero starts a bit when Ezra sneaks up and peers inside and he almost reaches out to clasp the young teen by the shoulder and draw him back like an errant child. He really needs to stop seeing Ezra as that child found Turns ago and so he just shrugs his shoulders and gives him a questioning sidelong look. When did he get here? "No idea, but apparently this one has been forgotten and some tapestry left behind in it." he drawls with a smirk, taking a small step inside and looking up at the questionable lighting. The glows he doesn't seem to mind, but that light bulb earns a nose wrinkle. Turning, leaving just enough room for either Ezra or the now arrived Inri to slip past him if they wish to, he chuckles heartily at the young goldrider's comment. "If only! That'd be a far better cause."

Ezra dips his head slightly at the Weyrleader, watching him for a moment before he peers into the closet again. So much has changed, yes, between the two of them. Ezra has grown into a young man - a hold heir. "Ahh. Interesting," he says, stepping inside and peering around. "Hello, Inri," he says, offering her a warm smile as he drifts further into the storage room.

"Bold man, to go first," Inri teases affectionately at Ezra, giving him her traditional finger-waggling wave. "Since it is apparently a tapestry that consumes souls, or lures them to their deaths, or something of the like — though I guess people do keep leaving, they sure are getting sucked in, aren't they? Maybe it does hold the meaning of life." Which, as a result, means she wants to see it — and so she's heading in behind her friend. Just to check out what's what, even if the space is small.

Much has changed for many and even Th'ero is not the same man he was once before. At least, not entirely. Some habits are just too ingrained to lose or break but he makes an effort now and again. One of these times would be now and he has to fight the urge to call Ezra back and Inri as well when they both venture forwards. Honestly, he just chased a group of people off! He'll tag along last and as he does his heel will catch the door (hey, it's narrow in there!) and it will slide shut. Thinking nothing of it, the Weyrleader laughs for Inri's comments. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?" he drawls and craning his head to peer about the tiny closet he will spy the tapestry in question and just look rather perplexed at the garishness of it. Not to mention the rude hand gesture. "Ah, huh… Don't think it holds the meaning of life… but some meaning of another sort? Shards, no wonder it was stuffed in here. And it has Istan colours on it's borders?" Should they be taking offence or sending a note asking if they've lost something?

Ezra grins crookedly at Inri, lifting his ale in a small toast. "I've always been bold," he says, chuckling. Peering at the tapestry, he snorts. "Is there a maker's mark? Remind me to not hire this weaver for Stonehaven…" When the door closes the younger Stonehaven brother glances at it, shifting his weight slightly, and then he pulls at his ale. No need to panic. It's okay.

"Remind me not to hire this person ever for anything," Inri observes, giving the tapestry a sour look and squinting. "I think I am getting a migraine." Overdramatic; Inri has never had a migraine and may not actually know what one really is. And yet, despite the fact it is definitely giving her a headache, she's still looking at it. And not afraid to admit it, apparently: "And yet I find myself unable to look away. No wonder so many people were shoving in here — it's a total house of horrors. People love those."

No need to panic! … yet. Th'ero glances sidelong to Inri and snorts softly for her overdramatic behaviour but all in good humour. Truthfully the Weyrleader is trying to observe it too and not wind up dizzy. "May not have been a weaver who did it." he mutters and carefully slipping past he will dare to touch the unknown tapestry by the corner, attempting to find the very mark Ezra brought up. "Doesn't seem to be marked or signed in any way. Personal piece?" He lets the tapestry fall back against the wall again and drifts back to where some crates have been stacked, brushing his hand across a thick layer of dust with a grimace. "Closet of horrors?" That is drawled to Inri as he wipes the dust from his fingers, only to glance about the room. "Doubt there's much in the way of "horrors" here beyond that thing. Unless one has a phobia of mops?"

Ezra chuckles, stepping back from the tapestry and bumping into a bucket on a shelf, which he manages to catch one handed and set back, rather proud of his feat. Did everyone see that? It was awesome. "Maybe it should be displayed somewhere," he says with a small smirk. Surely he's joking.

"Like jail?" Inri suggests, and while it might sound a little bit sarcastic, she would also totally put this thing in the brig if she had her way about it. Ezra's catch gets a soft clap — hands pressed together in a clapping motion but not producing any noise, because it's cramped enough in there already. "It's its own punishment. You just can't look away. And I somehow doubt Ista is going to want us to send it back with a friendly note, even if it looks like it's actually theirs — do we have any former Istans that have, um, interesting taste in art? Might be theirs."

Th'ero laughs all the same for Inri's suggestion, grinning faintly and extended to Ezra as well for being the source of the idea. "Nice catch," he drawls to the young heir, smirking crookedly as he carefully edges towards some shelves. The items on it are just junk and knick knacks of no importance and he nudges a few of them while speaking. "Punishment or torture? Maybe we could hang it in the interrogation rooms." he muses and with a hint of sarcasm too. He shakes his head, "Not that I know of? And I'm not about to roll this up and hand it to Cenlia and T'eo personally next time we're due to visit with Istan Leadership." Unless he wants to get a very clear message across? "Does it matter if we seek out the owners? I say we just see if any of the, uh… thread or fabric is salvageable and send it to scrap."

Ezra snorts at their suggestions, grinning crookedly. "I say we just hang it in the woods somewhere. Let other people stumble upon it and try to figure it out."

The attention given to the closet's shelves, however small, has actually managed to engage Inri's interest, and so now she is glancing at them, picking things up and trying to figure out if any of them are actually even remotely interesting. She finds a block of soapsand and pockets it (of course it's going back to the stores and not to her own weyr — maybe if she weren't in charge of the stores that'd be different, but in this case it's an innocent act). "Interrogation rooms isn't actually a bad idea, especially if we add more of them, but considering the — artwork — we might want to go with making the room uncomfortable with more abstract pieces of garish color. Just in case someone's both innocent and easily offended. Why is this pen in here?" Pocket. "Put it up on a tree, drive animals nuts."

Th'ero steps aside to allow Inri to browse, a brow quirking for the items she does pocket. "Are you even sure that pen works?" he asks with an amused edge to his voice. As he slips by, his knee catches the corner of one of the other crates and while not possessing the mad skills of Ezra, he keeps most of the stack from tumbling. The top one though teeters past his reach and tumbles to the floor, scattering the contents, most of which clink or clatter and roll away. Sighing, he mutters a curse under his breath and crouches down to begin picking up his mess. "I don't think they're looking to be polite in an interrogation room," Th'ero teases and chuckles heartily towards Ezra. "What and have the hunters breathing down our backs? Nah. Last we need is to make the wild wherries even more… irate."

Ezra winces when the crate tumbles, setting his ale aside so he can bend down and help as well. Just for a moment though, before he's standing and moving to try and open the door. He's decided he wants some fresh air in here - well, as fresh as it gets from Shenanigan's.

"No, but even if it doesn't, it —" Forget the end of that sentence; Inri is jumping back to get out of the way of tumbling crates, before going to help pick things up instead. Which involves also finding a relatively nice metal goblet she gives the side-eye to. "I don't want to know why half this stuff is in here, do I. It might be someone's incredibly strange, kind of dusty private love nest or something. Or maybe it was a century ago — I wonder if the wherries would even notice."

Th'ero is also eyeing that metal goblet Inri happens to find. Not bad! If she doesn't pocket that, he will. Finding nothing but random bits and ends, he tosses them back into the crate and then makes a face, followed by a grunted sound. "A private love nest?" Eew? "Here? Not enough room. Though I suppose if folks are into that…" He cuts it off there, remembering where he is and with who and promptly clears his throat. Ezra's old enough for that sort of banter, right? Speaking of the heir, Th'ero mutters his thanks for the help only to follow the young teen's path to the door. A door which would open, if luck was favouring them. It isn't and while there's the normal turn of the knob, something jams or breaks and that door just won't budge. Nope! No escape for you.

Ezra bites back a curse when the door doesn't open, yanking on it harder. Don't panic don't panic don't panic. "The door won't open," he says, his voice just a tad strained. Then the light bulb burns out with a soft *pop*, and they're left with nothing but the faint green glow of dying glows.

Inri hadn't actually figured out yet if she was leaving the goblet or not; similarly, she hasn't gotten a chance to respond to Th'ero's comment about the relative smallness of the closet before Ezra's revelation about the door occurs; never mind about anything she was going to say. "Great," is all that comes out instead, a sarcastic drawl. Out in the bowl, Kouzevelth is definitely laughing at them. At least it's all in her head; no one hears a dragon laugh out loud.

Th'ero isn't exactly focused on conversation or on any goblet once Ezra announces the fate of the door. "Oh for Faranth's sake," he can be heard exhaling under his breath, only for the light to go out. Maybe he shouldn't talk? Having not been paying attention to where he was in relation of the other shelves, he goes to stand only to crack his shoulder against the edge and burst out with a few choice curses that are anything but proper. "Is it the knob itself, Ezra?" he manages to grumble after a moment, trying not to wince as he rubs at his shoulder with his opposite hand. Ugh. Kouzevelth may not be laughing out loud, but Velokraeth IS! The pale bronze is chuffing and rumbling and snorting up a storm on his ledge and probably already reaching out to a certain blue and to the young gold as well (even if she knows!) to share the tale of woe. At least he hasn't informed the whole Weyr?

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth reaches out and is rippling and bubbling with laughter. Great big waves of it that for a moment that is all the link contains until the bronze can focus his mind and strength. « Varmiroth? » Snicker. Chuckle. « Varmiroth! Were are you, little brother? »

Ezra shrugs, stepping back. "Feels like the door itself is stuck. The knob turns, but then…" It won't open. Don't panic, don't panic. "Can we get out please?"

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth is curious as he reaches back. « On our ledge, » his and Kimmila's, « working on the mosaic. Why? »

The whole Weyr doesn't know yet. But of course Velokraeth isn't the only one whispering to Kayeth, and Kouzevelth has reached out to her clutchmates as well. Ha. They're stuck in a closet. Look at those silly humans. Inri glares at the ceiling as the dragon's stand in, and sighs. "Of course my lifemate thinks this is the funniest thing to happen all month." Such disdain from Inri, who then suggests, "Kick it?" Since Th'ero, presumably the one with the strongest kick, isn't already injured or anything …

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth's mind is still roiling with laughter and amusement. « Oh, you would NOT believe what has just happened! » he says, his voice even sounding winded as though he is speaking through guffaws and chuckles. « Mine, Kouzevelth and the heir of Stonehaven have all got themselves locked in a musty old storage closet in the lounge! Shards, that sounds like a line to a very awful joke! » But he LOVES it.

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth seems a bit concerned. « How did Kouzevelth get in there? »

Th'ero has to investigate for himself and clasping his hand to Ezra's shoulder, he gives him a brisk nod. "We'll get out." Don't panic. "Just a matter of figuring out the problem and then getting… help. If needed." At least they're stuck in a closet in a public room? Bang on the door enough, someone's ought to come! Or just point and laugh. In the semi-gloom, Th'ero flashes Inri an understanding and sympathetic look. "Velokraeth is laughing his ass right off as we speak." Stupid dragon. Glancing back to the door, Th'ero will try the knob and then throw his shoulder (the less tender one!) against it. The door rocks but doesn't budge and the Weyrleader grunts. "Kicking it won't do much either. Maybe someone from the outside can open it? Do we… just shout or shall we do this uh… quietly?" Meaning by firelizard or via dragon summon?

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth's laughter just magnifies for the blue's reply. Oh Faranth, he's slaying him here! « I know Kouzevelth is lean and slender, little brother but even she could not fit more than a few of her lovely fingers in that storage closet. I meant her //rider. A Weyrleader, a goldrider and a hold-heir all walk into a closet… » Oh boy.//

Ezra steps back, wrapping his arms around himself for a moment before he grabs his ale. He's fine, it's fine. It's all good. Promise. "Don't care," he says in answer to Th'ero's question.

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth begins to laugh as well, slight and amused. « What are they doing? Does yours need mine? She's in the bath right now… »//

"Kouzevelth," Inri intones, still sounding irritated, though not with them, "will be of absolutely no help whatsoever." She does her best to reach out and touch Ezra's shoulder supportively, as opposed to scaring him out of his wits by touching him in the dark. Which means that her feet were audible and it was a slow approach, at least. "My bronze might be, if no one has a better idea, though. I mean, maybe Nyalle will come save us just because everyone's telling Kayeth how hilarious this is, but we probably shouldn't count on it, she's got plenty of other things to worry about."

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth is pleased and thrilled when the blue catches on into the amusement. That's it! « Well, they had gone in to see this rather obnoxious and rude tapestry. Ugly thing, really. » And the image of it is flashed for the blue's "enjoyment". « And it would seem the door slid closed and refuses to open again and now they're stuck. I //suppose they need rescuing but tell yours she can take her time with her bath. Enjoy some, ah… pleasure and relaxation. They'll be fine! » And the bronze is just SO curious to see how it resolves.//

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth considers for a moment, and then he returns, amused. « Mine is snickering, but she will come let them out. »

Th'ero frowns a little towards Ezra, giving the young teen and heir a long and lingering look. "We're going to get out of here," he says and now it sounds like a determined promise. He doesn't want to be trapped in here forever either! To Inri, he snorts and then sighs. "Velokraeth isn't being helpful either. Guess both he and Kouzevelth are in a humorous mood? Though now he's drawn Varmiroth into it." He scoffs, "Nyalle? Perhaps. Or she may leave us all in here to serve as a lesson…" he mutters and then scrubs at his face. "No, that isn't true either. I doubt the Weyrwoman would do such a thing. Inri, send your bronze firelizard out. I'll see if I can coax Velokraeth into asking Varmiroth to send Kimmila if she's not preoccupied." There! That is… sort of a plan?

Ezra glances over at Inri, nodding his head at her supportive gesture. "Sure someone will come get us, I mean…" It's the Weyrleader and a Weyrwoman. How hard can this be?

Apparently not that hard, because as amused as Kayeth is, she /does/ tell Nyalle, who is - of course - horrified and hastens down to Shenanigans. "Th'ero?" she asks, knocking on the door from the outside. "We'll get you out. EXCUSE ME!" she says, clearly shouting to the room, "I need some people to help get this door open. Weyrleader Th'ero and Weyrwoman Inri are stuck inside." And Ezra, but…maybe she doesn't know he's in there too?

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth's laughter is at last subdued to small chuckles and the bronze is pleased. « No rush, no rush, little brother! Kayeth's rider is there now. Yours can take her time. He'll need his bruised pride soothed once he's out but that won't be for a little longer yet! » Snicker.

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth leaves and returns, again amused. « Mine will say he can soothe his bruised pride with her when he gets home. She's added more water to the bath. »

Inri can breathe a little easier, apparently. "Thank you," she calls loud enough that hopefully Nyalle can hear her and yet she hasn't managed to blow Ezra's eardrum out. Her bronze does appear outside the closet, doing his 'guarding' schtick, which — means hovering politely and quietly near the Weyrwoman's head. Just in case she needs help to get people to help! From a firelizard. "This is definitely one of those moments for the records. Maybe personal ones, though, and not the Weyr's blotter. 'Weyr leadership gets stuck in closet.' Really inspires faith."

Th'ero blinks in the semi-gloom. Shells, that was fast! "We're in here." he calls through the door when the Weyrwoman calls for him and he adds after grimacing to her shouting out to the room. Oh well, so much of this being a secret? "Stonehaven's heir, Ezra, is also inside." Just that added little incentive! Muttering under his breath, he runs his hand through his hair with a crooked smirk. "She could've just kept this to the Headwoman." There's a short, gruff laugh for Inri's suggestion. "I'd rather this stay OFF all records. Leave it to a… rumoured tale about the fire." Please?

Ezra just exhales when he's forgotten. Don't care. Get them out please. He's tense beneath Inri's hand, breathing slow and steady as he takes another swig of his ale.

Outside, Nyalle has the bar roused, some laughing and joking until she calls them to order. When it works, it's a bit of a thrill for her. Hey, people listened! And then it's 'yes ma'ams' all around as the strongest men are pushed forward to grasp the door, rocking it back and forth. But it's not until a kid steps forward, bends, and removes the stones from the runner tracks that the door actually pulls open. "Are you guys okay?" Nyalle asks, nervous and even wringing her hands.

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth laughs all the more now. « Nicely played! » he muses. « They've been sprung and he will come home once he's finished there. More than his pride is bruised, » Tsk, tsk. « He may need //quite the bit of soothing and comforting. » Wink, wink, nudge, nudge and say no more?//

"Slightly cramped," Inri chirps, squeezing Ezra's shoulder again and then taking in a nice breath of non-stale air and blinking at the light. "And you do not want to know what we found." Really. She doesn't. Inri is sure of this.

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth knows what the bronze means, as does his rider. Say no more.

No one better mention that their rescue comes from the aid of a child to Th'ero! He's trying his best not to be overly flustered about the whole situation and when the door is finally open and light spills forth he lifts a hand to shield his eyes. As he adjusts, he gestures for Ezra to go first. He's not been forgotten, not by the Weyrleader! He'll allow the heir to slip to freedom first before stepping out last and dusting off his clothing. Ahem. So pointedly not looking at the crowd, nope! "I believe we're all fine. Thank you for your help," And he at least extends that gratitude to all those who DID help and not just the Weyrwoman. As Inri lays down some temptation (or not), Th'ero wrinkles his nose. "It's a garish and rude oddity. We were discussing how to dispose of it before the door closed and shut us in."

Ezra is swift to exit, glancing around before he vanishes out into the cavern, and from there to the /outside/. Never mind the weather. He's out.
Nyalle steps back, smiling in relief as they all emerge. "A stone was stuck in the tracks," she says, "this…wait, where did he go? A boy fished it out. And oh?" She peers into the storage closet but does not seem inclined to enter. "This is filthy. I'll see to it that it's cleaned out and anything not of use will be properly disposed of."

Inri hasn't actually taken an inventory in full, but, "Found some nice goblets, a good pen, soap," pocket pat, "and I have no idea what else is in here but I suspect more of it's useful than previously thought." Let's not talk about the tapestry right now. "I certainly hope nobody put that stone there on purpose. Can't have been from when the shelf in here fell over, it must've been on the outside."

"I don't know if I'd trust that soap, Inri." Th'ero drawls to the young goldrider, only to pause as Ezra flees for the outdoors. Frowning briefly, he then sighs softly before nodding his head in agreement with Inri's assumptions. As for the boy, he grimaces and running his hand through his hair again he begins to step back as Nyalle approaches the store room. "Don't know why anyone would do it purposely," he mutters, only to smirk. "Sounds reasonable, Weyrwoman. Some might be salvageable." But there will be no love lost for that tapestry.

Nyalle nods, peering inside and then stepping back, brushing her hands together. "I'll get right on it." She sounds pleased. Pleased to have something to do other than paperwork, most likely.

"Perfect! Perhaps recruit some of the weyrbrats?" Th'ero suggests to Inri and Nyalle, glancing back to the crowd who are still lingering. Fighting the urge to glare at all of them and fidget under their looks, the Weyrleader coughs. "Would you mind if I took my leave, Nyalle? I'll file a report if needed, but…" And he rolls his shoulder with a grimace. "Need to attend to something." Namely his pride and a bathing weyrmate.

Nyalle dips her head to Th'ero, smiling. "Not at all, and yes, please send me a report Whenever you get a moment."

Th'ero dips his head in a respectful nod and then turns on his heel and strides briskly from the lounge. Of course this will be the story of the day and if the Weyrleader isn't needed for any pressing matters he will hunker down out of the rain and cold in the privacy of his weyr.


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