Vitner Hall Excursion

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.

Tillek Vintner Hall - Working Cavern

The smell of yeast and spilled grape juice assaults your nose, indicating that this is where the fruits of the hall's labor come together in the making of the product that is in so much demand. In the center of the room are a couple of large stone wine presses, and on one wall is a number of tables where the grapes are sorted as to their suitability for pressing. Near the sorting tables is a large scale.
Along the other wall are a number of huge fermentation vats, taller than a man. A wooden catwalk runs along the top of the vats. Tucked up against the vats is a table covered with strange glass cylinders, small scales, and other odd instruments. In the southeast corner is a large set of doors where the grapes are brought into the cavern, and to the north is a portal leading to the storage area. To the south is a portal that opens out into the Main Hall.


It's Vinter Time! Candidates were snatched away from whatever they were doing, put onto the backs of several dragons, and whisked away to the Vinter Hall, near Tillek. Guards also came along, joking about how much they could consume if they were given free reign of the Hall's vast store caverns. Along for the ride is Kimmila, and she also let someone hitch a ride on the back of her blue. As the group arrives, they're given introductions and bustled first into the working cavern, where the spry Master assigned to their tour sweeps his arm around proudly. "And here," he says, voice booming and rich, "is where the magic happens!" Keeping to the edges of the group, Kimmila shifts over to stand beside Th'ero, rocking back on her heels and slipping her hands into her pockets. "Wonder if they have a gift shop."

"I thought magic was outlawed in the presence of candidates," heckles a wit in the midst of the candidate pack. Yeah, that'd be Kazulen, putting on a look of wide-eyed innocence. He's maybe been placing a few bets here and there with some of the guards he knows all too well about how long it's going to take whom to fall into one of those big vats around the edge of the room, but nobody's counting, right?

Borodin's day off from chores turned out to not be such a day off after all. Serves him right for being where someone could see him! The ride a-dragonback was accomplished with triple-checked harness straps and only barely managing to not grab onto the rider for dear life… but he did manage it, and he didn't even wet himself when they went between. Small accomplishments. Now he's toward the back of the group, peering around the assorted heads that block his view with an interested expression.

After carefully picking her way off of one of the transport dragons, Harmony — dressed sharply in her favorite color (pink) — adjusts the skirt she's wearing and promptly finds herself lost in the crowd of people taller than herself. She chews the nail of her right thumb and looks around. Hesitation clouds a normally confident visage as the girl picks her way to where… they are supposed to stand? Meet? One thing's for sure, this girl ain't at the back of the bus! (Yet, anyway).

A well-placed trip at the right moment might help those bets fall in the right direction? Not that Edani would do it. He is there, dressed up a little more than his usual day-to-day working clothes, hands shoved in the pockets of his well-pressed pants. He's got a keen interest now that his preoccupied look-round at each and every worker has been accomplished and the initial disappointment in recognizing none of them has waned.

Inyri is practically glowing, glancing around the Vintner hall like she's come home. Nevermind she hasn't actually ever been there before; it's making drinks, and making drinks is what Inyri does best. And what Inyri lives for, essentially, is creating a good mixer. She was thankfully working on something that allows her clothes and nails to be clean and her hair to be neat, so therefore is not actually dying of embarrassment on the inside. "Incredible, isn't it?" she gushes to the two nearest people — let's go with Harmony and Edani.

The master chortles, wagging a finger at Kazulen. "Not /that/ kind of magic, m'boy. That happens /after/ you've gifted your lady friend with some of our boisterous brew, or mellow merlot. Now, here is where we sort the grapes. Different types make different wines, you know. And sometimes we mix the grapes for an even /different/ sort of flavor. Depends on the turn, and the time of turn, and how the crops did. So come on over here and I've laid out five different types of grapes for y'all. Scattered them all over this sorting table. I want you to try and sort them into five different piles." It's harder than it looks - some of the grapes look nearly identical. Of course, they could smell them - or even taste them - but is that allowed? The Master doesn't specify, just watching the group with a crooked grin.

Abigail had luckly ridding a dragon before, so at least it wasn't a real surprize this time over such things! She follows along after the other, a hand lifting to push a few locks of hair back and she hums softly to herself. As she was helping in the library she didn't mind escaping to see what all was going on at the Vinter Hall. It is a grand thing, they make wine here after all! She pauses next to her brother and gives his side a slight poke. "It's this great?" Is murmured softly to him, a glance is sent over to Kazulen whom is not all that far off and she looks amused. "Funny." This said while she grins before her gaze turns over towards the vats of that lovely wine. At the answer from the master she holds back a snicker and coughs soft while she goes back to listening, listenlisten. At the table with the different grapes upon them a soft oh escapes her.

Velokraeth is also laden with passengers, guard and candidate alike and so is the third dragon tagging along for transportation duty. Th'ero of course is ignoring the joking for the most part, though he may cast a narrowed or warning look to some of the louder guards. Then comes the rather half-chaotic mess of getting everyone dismounted and organized and then it's off for the tour of the grounds. The Weyrleader keeps mostly to himself, silently listening in but alert, gaze constantly roaming. The guards fan out as well, almost enough to be forgotten that they are there at all as the Master assigned to lead the group begins to prattle on about the history of the area, what is done here, and so on. Then they enter the one last room, a working cavern no less, Th'ero is eyeing some of the instruments with an almost wary look. At Kimmila's comment, he snorts softly. "If they do, I'm afraid they'll only be able to browse." he drawls softly, also standing to the back of the group. As the Master speaks again, the Weyrleader blinks. "Huh. Hands on work it seems for them." Oh, lucky day?

Eirwyn is trailing along the latter part of the group, curiosity catching her as she spends a little extra time looking over some of the little things. As she hears the voice of the Vintner she rushes to catch up to the group. There is a little laugh at the joke he comes before she focuses studously on his presentation, only to get distracted by one facet or another of the process.

"Yeah…" Harmony shoots Inyri a look, the spoiled petulance missing from her tone this day, "… It really is. Makes me itch to find the stoves." The girl's not good at whispering — stage whisper at it's finest folks — so when the master starts talking again, rather than elaborate to Inyri, attention is turned back to the lesson. Once the master's given them the assignment, a small confident smile starts to tug at the corners of the former baker's lips. "Food, now, food I know." Perhaps still talking to Inyri, or to any of the Candidates milling around her. A baker better have a slight advantage here! Grapes, grapes, grapes… Strands of blond hair are tucked back as Harmony's itchy little fingers are eager to dive in. (Maybe not eager, but, her confidence has been restored!)

Kimmila snorts, giving Th'ero a wry grin. "C'mon, wingmate," she murmurs, "you can't bring them to the Vinter Hall and not let them have a little /taste/. It won't kill them, and they won't be getting drunk." Encouraging, the Master motions for the Candidates to dive in and get started, giving Harmony in particular a wide smile.

Edani's lips curl in amusement at the back and forth between the Master and Kazulen but he's forestalled in adding anything by Inyri's enthusiastic exclamation. He shoots her a sidelong glance, lips part to answer but Harmony chimes in first. "I think I know who to have over to make dinner for me," he says instead. Because let's face it - two pretty girls, one cooking and one making drinks is a win. They're directed to the table and he just stares at the grapes, clearly not knowing where to start. He pulls one hand out of a pocket, picks a bunch up by the stem and squints closely at what's left of the vine, since other than size, he has no frame of reference. Helpless, that's him.

Borodin smiles to Abigail, and nods. "It smells a little like baking fruitbreads," he says to her. Well, yeast and fruit, no wonder they've got something in common! He blushes faintly at the response to Kazulen's heckles, then leans sideways to get a better look at the table. "Oh. Huh. Well…" He tilts his head again as someone steps in front of him, and starts toward it, following after the quicker candidates.

Kazulen is keeping the wide-eyed-innocent look going as best he can, very nearly batting his eyelashes at the Master. "You're terribly wise," he gushes. "You mix these grapes five different ways?" He's laying it on a little strong, isn't he.

Th'ero doesn't look quite convinced, though he turns to glance towards Kimmila. He's a master at schooling his voice, so he keeps it low for the bluerider's ear as the Candidates all begin to find their tables and work. "You know, you're the second person to try and tell me this? It's stretching the rules to let them, Wingmate." he murmurs softly. There's a pause where he stares after a few of the stragglers and then darting a glance up to be sure the guards are in place before he adds. "We'll see. If this doesn't dissolve into chaos, perhaps as a… reward, I'll allow it." So he's not so much a stick in the mud after all! Sort of.

Inyri cheats. Or, that is to say, she jumps to the conclusion that sniffing the grapes is an appropriate method of figuring out how to sort them; that's part of prepping for making any drink, after all. She smells the wine to help identify it, and make sure it's been casked right — and so she's also smelling grapes. That said, she's smelling grapes and sticking close to Harmony, because between them, they can totally accomplish this, right? Her perfect manicured fingers deftly moving grapes about make a nice contrast to the baker's general attractiveness. "Kazoo, you're awful, by the way," she calls over to the mooching guard.

Kimmila shrugs, "So what?" is her intelligently crafted reply to the Fortian Weyrleader. "Every group that comes here can have a little taste. Reward- yeah, that," she agrees. Glancing over the group, she reaches out to try and flick Kazulen on the shoulder. "Leave off," she mutters, grin crooked. "One thing you don't want is an irritated vinter, you hear? Sours the whole batch." Giving him a wink, she peers curiously at the grapes again, but lets the Candidates have at it. Meanwhile, the Master is nodding approvingly to the sniffing going on, just giving Kazulen a briefly baffled look. "Excellent. A good Vinter has to have a superb sense of smell. It helps with taste, you know! Keep at it, yes." Meanwhile, while he's doing this, other Vinters have begun to bring in bushels of grapes and dumping them into the stomping vats. You don't think…?

A pretty little smile for the Master and Edani alike, Harmony's cheeks boast a suffusion of color that only adds to the sweet confection of her countenance. Somewhat spoiled by the tone of her voice, and the silt of a perpetual whine that dredges the lower end of her tones. "Dinner is my specialty," the girl comments in typically melifluous soprano tones. "Do you like /fiery/ chili?" Names are a boon for those who remember them; for Harmony, names are barely bothered to be remembered if not linked to her own self-absorption. From askance, eyelashes lower when Inyri sticks close. The power duo of taste! Ahem. "Oh no," she interjects, halting one of Inyri's choices, "That one goes with that other one." As well as her talents take her this round, they will hold only so long.

Abigail chuckles softly as she hears Borodin. "Ya I suppose it sorta does don't it?" This questoned with an amused tone to her brother. Her gaze drifts over the table as she ponders, following along towards the table looking at the grapes. She leans closer to Borodin. "So.. Do ye know the difference then?" This questioned with a curious tone. Well he knows a good amount about cooking stuff. She glances over to Harmony and grins as she catches sight of her figuring it out.

Borodin glances to Kazulen again, and he frowns slightly as he brings his attention back to those grapes. His hands get shoved in his pockets - good luck sorting anything like that - as he leans in to take a better look, especially at the deft fingers of Inyri and and Harmony. Just the fingers, he's not particularly looking at the women themselves. "Well," he says to Abigail. "There's some red and some purple… but I don't know the varietals." He shrugs, and pulls out one hand and starts triaging grapes - just into two pools, and the others can refine it further from there.

Kazulen grumps a little as his efforts to schmooze fall short, and slumps his way over to the table, just standing there and watching for a moment. It doesn't take long to figure out that some people are more capable of doing this than others; on the other hand, nothing's stopping him from picking out the greenish grapes, either, and putting them in a big pile that-a-way.

"I like fiery," Edani replies leaving off chili perhaps purposely. Or perhaps not, for he's concentrating on the task at hand. Sort grapes the Master said, not sort bunches. So sort he does. He's got a pile of big green ones, middle-sized green ones and little green ones… and a pile of gnarled, tangled bare-branched stems. The girls get an overly-done smug grin. He's finished before they are! And probably all wrong, but hey. He tried.

Th'ero exhales a little heavily and murmurs under his breath for Kimmila's ears only, "Fine. They'll get the samples at the end. I'll inform the Master of the change." At the bluerider's words for Kazulen, there is only a small smile that quirks on the Weyrleader's lips and an approving nod. Then he's motioning for Kimmila to follow him if she chooses and walking off ahead, he begins to pass by the first Candidates on his way to the Master. Getting the man's attention quietly, he'll bend his head in close and murmur the exchange. Waiting on his agreement or acknowledgement, Th'ero will then nod and move on again. He doesn't notice the vats or the other Vintners, since his focus seems to be on overseeing the group. Silent — for now.

Eirwyn makes her way to the sorting table and looks down at the grapes in her pile. Well…they are grapes. That much she can tell. There is a glance to her left and right to see how the other groups are faring with their sorting before she attempts to follow suit. She of course goes for the obvious sort. Colour. She has about three piles and one lone grape she can't quite figure out what pile to put it into. With a quick glance around she deals with that grape in a way that a teenager can do best. Eats it. Yep, problem solved. "I Think I am done here…

Abigail hums and nods as she hears Borodin and ponders while she goes about looking over a free grapes and thus starts to moves them into different little groups an so forth. She hears Eirwyn and waves over to her while grinning as she talks about being done and looks over to see what her friend did and a soft huh escapes her while she goes back to finshing hers. Which is done for shapes and colors like others have done it seems.

The Master swoops on Edani like that one kid who starts to doodle in class instead of read, like the teacher told the class to a /million/ times. "M'boy," he murmurs, "I meant to sort out types of grapes. Varieties. But I applaud your creativity." And he does. Clap. Twice. And then he moves on.

Victory! Kimmila grins at Th'ero, wandering along with him as they talk to the Master. Hey, Candidates, she got you booze! You can thank her later.

"People who don't like chili are weird," is Inyri's conclusion, as she handles the internal debate over which one of them winds and decides to be either kind or just assume she's wrong and place it in the other pile as recommended. Then she laughs at Edani's piles, and begins to resort them for him. Without his permission. He wanted the help, right?

Molasses could run a race with Harmony and win, for dawdling is commencing at an alarming rate. "I couldn't agree more," is murmured in slow susurration of tones, distraction playing a part in the symphony of the girl's attention and movements. "Do you now?" Edani's comment is followed by the upsweep of pale lashes, revealing slate-shaded-beryl of eyes that lack intensity of attention. Teasing lilt shades her voice and adds a slight crinkle to the corners of her eyes, but Harmony's prize is then sought: the plumpest grape, skin taut and color perfect. Sorting comes at the price of perfection; only those not withered, bruised, or small are chosen. The rider's approach and conversation are noted, dimly, but this baker's attention is on - "Ew." What? "I think there was once a worm in that one." Judgmentally, she flicks the lame grape off to the side, catching that moment to offering a sweet, succoring smile to Abigail.

Maybe he inadvertently came up with a new blend? They could name it Green Pastures or something! Edani knows better than to suggest it to the departing Master though. Instead he's lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck while re-examining his three piles. Welp! He can't taste every one of them and other than size, he has no clue. They're all green. Looking closer, well, shades of green. Maybe color? He's starting on sorting the darkest ones here, the lighter ones there, the palest- Inyri's lovely hands enter his periphery and he pauses, flashing her a grin that's a touch impish. "You know," he murmurs, "they might kick us out for cheating in class?" His answer to Harmony is wordless - just a widening of his smile and a flash of white teeth.

The Master observes their progress, making a few helpful suggestions and moving a few grapes where needed. "Finish up quick, now," he says, glancing towards the vats, "because we're about to do something extraordinary. Traditional! One of the greatest things in the world! The start of our magnificent vintages! And then, at the end, your Weyrleader has ever so graciously agreed to let you each have a little sample of one of our finest vintages. One that was bottled the turn that your clutch dam was hatched - appropriate, I think, yes? And we will of course be sending more to the feast for the hatching! Where…well. Some of you will impress." He can do math. "But the rest will be free to get drunk and merry!" This man sure loves his job.

The bruised are some of the easiest ones to sort. The scent is strongest. Though some of them might be too bruised… so Borodin's piles, as they gradually evolve, end up with little continuums of relative degree of quality. He's not exactly steady with it, going back and forth, making little sub-piles of uncertainty and then splitting them up again. Out of chaos comes order, or at least a bunch of piles. There! He smiles wide, then looks over to the Master and goes oh, his gaze flitting to the vats… and then down to his feet, sticking one out a bit. …it's not smelly, right?

Th'ero caught that, Eirwyn's little taste sample of the grape. He lingers behind her long enough to quickly murmur a few words in his usual low and drawling tone. "Probably best not to do that. Too much." he points out gently, giving her a vague sort of smile before he's straightening again and moving on. She only had one, after all! At the claps, the Weyrleader looks up and frowns slightly until he realizes why and relaxes again. Yes, they get their booze. Small little thimble sized samples. Hardly enough to harm and only likely to make the want for more worse. Better some then none, though? Soon enough he completes his circuit, satisfied and back to watching (closely!) from the sides. He does turn to Kimmila though, giving her a small smile. "Seems to be going well enough." he remarks and completely unaware of how he could have just jinxed them all then and there. At the mention of Tradition, Th'ero's attention is immediately honed in, often very approving of such matters. There's a slight quirk of his mouth given for the Master's choice in vintage for the Candidates to all sample (small little samples!). "Wonder what he has in store for them after this," he says thoughtfully to Kimmila, provided she's still by his side at this point. Seems he's not quite clued in yet…

Abigail goes about finshing up with what she feels is the right places to put the grapes she was working with. Though she is rather sure this is wrong, she wipes her hands off against her pants and looks up as she hears The Master vinter talk. A soft oh escapes her and she chuckles softly before nodding a moment and she smiles. "We're very lucky for that." She gives Borodin a soft elbowing, well a little win isn't bad in the least!

Kimmila shrugs, reaching past Eirwyn to take a few grapes to pop into her mouth. "It's one way to tell what they are," she says, grinning at the girl before she meanders back to Th'ero's side. Glancing around, she suddenly grins. And that's not always a good thing, with some teeth showing and looking a bit feral in her intentions. "I have /always/ wanted to do that," she says eagerly. "Th'ero. You have to do this." Because it'd be funny. The Master pauses by Borodin, and nods approvingly. "You are doing a fine job. The sorting by quality is something we do next, yes, so well done m'boy. You'd have a place here."

Kazulen has gotten distracted, somewhere along the line, and started eating grapes. By the handful. Hey, at least he can say decisively that they haven't started to ferment already! No alcoholic content here, no sir!

Pearly white teeth are snapped in Edani's direction, impish light overshadowing the visage of spoiled child that Harmony usually carries about herself. "Perhaps we can," tones lower, slow steps weaving closer to both Inyri and Edani, "combine into a group project." Perfection makes up very little of the entire population of grapes, thus the former-baker's sorting is pitifully small. The Master is eyed from the veil of blond eyelashes when traditional is mentioned in the same sentence as extraordinary. "I begin to fear this man." Side-long glance is given Inyri, the other half of her power duo of taste. Come-come, those beryl eyes say, let's share, thus leaving Harmony with half the work.

Borodin nods to Abigail's nudge, though he glances up at a couple of the guards briefly with an uncertain expression. "…only a bit, though." He returns his attention to sorting. And these here should go… "Oh," says Borodin to the Master, and a moment later he adds. "…thanks." There's a quiet little smile now, as he finishes things up and glances over to Abigail again, including her in the smile before looking out over the rest… well, skimming over them. He mostly looks at the tables and equipment, not so much the people.

Th'ero knows that grin that Kimmila has all to well and instantly his gaze is following hers, to figure out what exactly prompted it. Then he see's the vats, matches the Master's words to it and those of the bluerider. His reaction, of course, is predictable for those who know him. "Oh, no." he says immediately, giving her a sidelong and stubborn look. "Shards, no." he says more under his breath for her. He knows it would be funny. And fun! Both of his failings. So of course he balks, firm in his decision. Given enough of a push though… "Feel free though, to join them." Th'ero adds with a smirk that then changes into a bit of a grimace. "There were baths here, right?" Or else they'll be taking home grape stained Candidates.

As the sorting continues, with varying degrees of success, the Master decides it's time to move on. These aren't Apprentices, after all. "Okay!" he says, clapping his hands twice and beckoning everyone over to the vats, which have been filled with grapes. And the little feet washing stations at each, watched over by attentive Journeymen and older Apprentices. "It's time to stomp the grapes!" Opah! "First you must wash your feet, and push up your pants or skirts - if you need to change, we have pants you can change in to that you can roll up. And then you get in, and you stomp! You mash the grapes and fill up the casks with the juice. Come now! Groups of four, feet washed and into the vats!" He acts as if he fully expects everyone to jump for JOY at this honor.

Kazulen is busy staring, not sure how much he wants to fall over laughing. If he times this badly, he's going to get his clothing STAINED, after all! But. But. Hesitant muttering, sotto voce: "Aren't the stems still in there, with the grapes? Isn't that going to hurt, stomping on them?"

Inyri seems quite content with herself and her production of sorting, and at least she's got very nice fingers for Borodin to look at. "We could," she agrees, shooting a satisfied smile at Harmony, "Drinks and dinner. When the whole Search thing is over. Depending on your Impression," to say nothing at all of her own, which she's not predicting, having told people to bet against her at this point, "it might take a long time, but we should still —" The Master's speech has her cutting off, though, and just staring for a moment, face blank … before her lips turn up into a curious, but rather delighted little imp of a smile.

Harmony can have half, Inyri can have half and Edani will be their cheerleader? The beastcrafter/candidate waves them to have at his grapes, smirking at the snapping teeth can't resist murmuring a quip in return, "No biscuit for you if I'm bleeding by the time we're finished here." He'll let the girls sort his mess and gladly, looking perked at the mention of tasting later. He approves! As for the vats, he nearly chokes. Do they know where his feet have been for turns?

Kimmila grins all the more wickedly at Th'ero, looping her arm through his and giving him a tug towards one of the vats. "C'mon, wingmate. It'll be fun! And…" And she tries to think of something else she can say to persuade her stubborn, un-fun weyrmate, and fails. So she just tugs at his arm again. C'moooooooon. "Wuss," she also says to Kazulen as she tries to tug Th'ero past the Candidate. Besides, they pick the stems off - most of them.

Well. Kazulen can't have that, Kimmila! No calling him a wuss! Instead, well, he shortens his life expectancy drastically by trying to help Kimmila out. Th'ero will never expect to be assaulted with a helpful candidate at his other elbow, now will he?!
Abigail blinks while she looks up at the vat, they get to stomp on the grapes? Well this is rather interesting turn of events! She gives Edani's shoulder a good pat as he nearly chokes. "No choking now." Is said with an amused tone. "I get the feeling this is going to be amusing. "Come on Borodin, ye know ye just want to join in." She isn't about to leave her brother out of this if she has to go clambering into a vat so does he!

"Drinks and dinner," concludes the girl, mindless in conversation as distraction comes at the hand of a little grape. Mutiny rises, quelling words that rise proverbially up the column of Harmony's throat. Confection's sweetness may well burn for the rising ire that nearly has the baker bursting one of her perfectly chosen grapes. "I will not-" hissed susurration of denial is low enough only for Inyri and Edani to hear (perhaps anyone else near her). Decibel volume of a whisper ensures that the master's ears never be privy to her voiced denial, though pinked cheeks and a souring of such sweet expression may give a clue. "I am not going to debase myself by getting squished grapes on my /clothes/." Really, clothing's not optional here! Delicate shudder commences.

Borodin is still riding high on his successful sorting of small ovoids. That, combined with the care some of the others take for their clothing, actually has him as one of the first people to reach a squishing vat. As a matter of fact, he's already gone by the time Abigail turns back to encourage him. He has no fear of stains. They can just join the rest. He kneels down on first one knee, then the other, taking off his shoes and rolling up the legs of his trousers. Up to his feet again, and… yes, washing them. Washing his feet seems a very good idea. Soapsand and rinsing both, until he's ready to sqweesh.

Th'ero stares down at Kimmila as she loops her arm through his and attempts to tug him towards one of the vats. She may as well be tugging on a stone statue for all the movement she gets from him — which is none. He's got his weight braced and he's not budging. "Somehow I don't think it's fitting," he drawls in defence, scrabbling for any sort of excuse beyond simply repeating 'no' at her endlessly. He eyes those vats again, warily now and at the bluerider's comment to Kazulen, he snorts. "Come now, don't call them that." he chides, but not with much firmness behind his words. He's startled though when Kazulen is suddenly there, posture going rigid as the Candidate snares him on the other side. So he begins to move, halting little steps. Will they win? It seems so. "But what if all don't want to participate? Someone should stay with those Candidates…" he mutters, forgetting that that is what the guards are for.

"But my feet have been steeped in rain-soaked manure mud for turns," Edani clarifies at that little pat and amused chiding of Abigail. Surely no one thinks a little soap and water will fix that, right? He doesn't! He's only thinking of the folks who'll drink the stuff ages from now (watch poetic justice mete them corked bottles of this exact juice after the hatching - ew). As for the girls, he'd be happy to watch their feet stomping and turning pretty shades of pink… "I'll stomp slowly so I don't splash," he promises and could very well bite his tongue right afterwards. Where did that come from?

"Aw, c'mon." Inyri is giving Edani a Look; Harmony, it seems, she is forgiving for being a girly girl who doesn't want to get dirty. A beastcrafter, though? "You're used to having your feet sticky, and wine gets filtered a thousand times. Just give 'em a wash. I'm fine so long as my pants stay pinned up." She's accomplishing that by removing hairclips and pinning her twill pants into short-shorts. How's that for a view, then, Edani?

"That's what the Guards are for." See? Kimmila didn't forget. Flashing Kazulen a look that is both wry and sympathetic - she's impressed he just stepped in like that, and fears any possible retaliation on Th'ero's part for the boy - she helps tug Th'ero along. "Fitting? It's beneath a Weyrleader of Fort to take part in such honored /tradition/?" She thinks she's got him now, and her look says it.

The Master laughs heartily, shaking his head. "The foot scrub will erase all the turns of stink and stench, and it is quite…what's the word." "Exfoliating," a female journeyman supplies, with a grin. "Exfoliating! That's it! Great for your skin, m'dear," he says to Harmony with a wide grin. "You can change into our things if you would prefer?" How generous!

Abigail snickers as she hears Edani. "I don't think he is going to let ye wiggle out of it Edani." This said as she hears The Master go about bring up reasons why he can join in with the rest. A shake of her head is seen and she goes about taking off boots, socks, rolling up pants and getting her feet all squeaky clean. So far so good! As if stains was really going to stop her from joining in, not in the least.

Staunchly against the slip of her feet onto something so disgusting as round, juicy grapes. Plus, the pink and white of her attire would clash /horridly/ with grape juice. "I'll watch," Harmony decides, decisively. A dip and rise of her head is the right movement to add emphasis to her tone while nimbly stepping back, and away from the crowd of Candidates aiming for the enrichment of stomping grapes. Before leaving, Edani is graced with another sugar-sweet smile that curves pretty pink lips. "You wouldn't want people to think you're not man enough, right?" Inyri + Harmony = Effective Team Coersion Skills. "Grape juice," primly, stated to the Master's own enticement, "gives me hives." With that, the girl - a nod to Inyri - slips into the back of the crowd. Back of the bus, it seems, gets this pixish girl a way out of the chance of stomping. Exit; stage left.

Right. Feet are clean, and he's ready to do this thing. Borodin glances back at the others - at Edani and the two girls arguing over whether they're even going to do this thing with a frown, though he's too far away to hear most of the words, to Abbey getting ready with a half-smile, to Th'ero… being dragged on over. Eep! His eyes widen and he quickly steps forward into the tub. Squooosh go the grapes underfoot. They're wet and slimy, and it gets right up in between your toes. Like mud, if mud was… lumpy. He leans forward, holding onto the edge of the tub as he brings his other foot in and down. Squelch.

Snared and trapped. Well done, Kimmila, well done. Kazulen as well, for making sure Th'ero has no exit now. But the bluerider's words strike home right in a place where the Weyrleader is weakest. Pride, honor and tradition. So with an exasperated sigh, his body goes slack and they'll have a much easier time dragging him closer now. "Of course not," he says in a low tone, shooting his Weyrmate a rather pointed look. Oh, she'll pay for this later. "All traditions must be respected and Fort will not slight the Vintners of theirs." Which means, as much as he's not wanting to do this, he's going to do it now. And possibly have fun. Oh, the horror and inhumanity! He'll shake himself free of both their grips then and begin to slip off his boots in preparations like all the rest. "You two can get on with it as well," Th'ero says with a smirk. He's not going to run. He will, however, take his sweet time getting through the steps.

Kazulen is stuck, but hey, he's already figured that out. He's also well-accomplished when it comes to shucking his boots off, and has his pants rolled up above his knees by the time Th'ero's first boot is unfastened. "Ohhhhh," he groans, as soon as his feet are in the washtub. "This is amazing. I could just stay here, soaking, the entire time we're here." The water's probably going to need to be changed, too.

Edani truly really is just thinking of where his feet have been. He does MUD, Inyri. On a daily basis, even. "Sticky isn't the problem…" He begins but then there she goes, pinning up her pants into shorts and providing alllllll the incentive he needs. Forgive him Ezra! But, my he is admiring those legs through eyes lazily veiled with his lashes while a reluctant smile tugs on his lips. The Master says washing will take care of it? Well then! He's washing with alacrity, shooting Harmony a smirk over his shoulder. This is sweet torture, is what it is. But he's not complaining anymore as he follows Inyri towards the vat. Score one for the Vitner, two for Team Inyri-Harmony, but Edani is the winner.

Kimmila beams right back at Th'ero, as innocent as she can manage. Oh, she knows she's going to pay for it later. But she's looking forward to it. Sitting down beside him, she tugs off her boots and socks, and sets to scrubbing her own calloused feet. They're not lovely things by any means, and she works away at them like she was scrubbing stone. Standing, she's rolling up her pants too, though hers are left a bit more modest than Inyri's. Damn. And then she's swinging a leg over into the tub, glancing over to see if Th'ero and Kazulen will join her. There's room for one more in this tub, too!

At least the girls' team can /share/ the win with Edani. Inyri seems to be enjoying the foot scrub, too, though not to the extent of Kazulen's apparent ecstasy. "You're having way too much fun," she tells him, though, even as she slides her glance back to Edani once she's done saying it — more than one of the men appears to be having too much fun! Though it could be said that she's enjoying herself just enough; a she's a steady stream of smiles as she scrubs her feet to the point where, yes, flakes of moist-previously-dry skin come off. Exfoliating, indeed!

Abigail shakes her head slightly as she follows after Borodin peering down at the vat of grapes an so forth. "How's it feel?" Is questioned towards her brother before she hops in herself and a soft eee escapes her. Well it is sorta cold and lumpy, wet, sticky not yet at least! Well this is a rather new expierence!

Th'ero does get his boots off and set aside and then it's on to scrubbing. Which takes more time too, as the Weyrleader's feet aren't the greatest but not the worst. Trying hard not to grimace and keep his expression schooled and neutral, he rolls up his pants just past his knees and then balks just a little more as he pretends to fuss over it to be sure they're snug enough not to go unrolling mid-stomping. Of course, the fussing is such an obvious ruse, so he eventually straightens and turns to the vats again, eyeing those already with Candidates busily at work. He notes who's within and busily stomping away, turning to scan the tables for any still backing out and then with a sigh, accepts his fate. Climbing into the vat Kimmila has chosen, his features twist when his feet make contact with the grapes and he visibly shivers. "Ugh. This is the worst sensation I've ever felt." he grumbles under his breath, failing at keeping his grimace from showing through. Tradition or not, this is one he would have preferred to view and not experience!

"Well," says Borodin to Abigail, "It feels sort of, uhm, like…" How to describe it? Ah, but then she steps in, and the description becomes obvious. "That. Very much like that." He keeps on stomping, slow and methodical… or at least trying to keep his feet underneath him instead of sliding off and sending him sprawling. Even so, bits of the juice splash up. It's a wardrobe-changing experience, it is.

"Oh, come now, sir," Kazulen chips in brightly, crowding Th'ero in deeper. After all, he's not going to do this by halves — and he knows already he's going to get in trouble if he only ever soaks his feet, and never gets to the work part! "It might be a little bit gross, sure, and kind of like eyeballs if you think about it too deeply, but at least it isn't painful." Until someone steps on a splintery shard of vinestem, anyway.

Kimmila laughs when her feet squish into the cold, oozing grapes. "I know that's not true," she teases her weyrmate, giving him a poke in the chest and a wide smile. Stomping around, she chuckles heartily and pushes hair behind her ear. "This is a blast, admit it," she says, looking over to the other vats. "How's it going?" she calls to the one where Borodin and Abigail are, and then she's checking out Inyri and Ednai's vat, too.

Skin flakes and toe jam. Yummy! Who invented this method of grape pressing anyway? Edani no longer cares. Having rolled up his pantlegs to just above his knees, stepped out of his good shoes, he's washing, but not giving his feet the careful attention he perhaps should be, given those hiked pants and all those pretty, naked girly feet. Candidacy be damned! This is SO not fair! He flicks a little bit of soapy foam at Inyri as he stands, "C'mon you're clean enough already." And he offers her his arm gallantly like they're going to the dancefloor.

Abigail peers over at the ones trying to get Th'ero to join in? Well this is interesting, no comments from her! No instead she is going about stomping upon the grapes within the vat. "I truthfully can say this is a first." Stomptompsquishsquash, on the stories one could come up with after this trip. Hearing Kimmila she looks over and grins. "It's going great. Can say this is a frist for sure!"

Dancing was /exactly/ what Inyri was hoping for, after all! She takes Edani's arm once she's batted his flicked foam off her, and says, "Yes, let's go waltz in some grapes. Or, no, that's way too slow. Can you do a foxtrot? Because I can show you, if you can't. A jig would be best, but you're from the South." To this girl, anyone who's not from as far north as her can't possibly know how to do a proper jig. Maybe she'll have to teach them all. "And I wonder if it's true weyrlings really have dance lessons. I heard that. I hear all sorts of things, though."

"I'm from the West," corrects Edani with a slight bow as she takes his arm, adding, "Training to take over a hold includes dance, M'Lady. So your preference is?" The jig he'll give his best to imitate and learn on the fly without admitting he's never done it before (though when he flounders and drags them both into the soup it'll be obvious enough). He steadies her with a light hand to her elbow as she steps in, then moves after her with a curious look at his feet as grapes squish underfoot. "Hey Inyri," he smirks, "What are the grapes saying?"

"No," Th'ero denies Kimmila again! For now. Kazulen is given a long look, the Weyrleader's grimace spreading for the Candidate's choice of words. But neither can he simply just stand there, uncomfortable and awkward. So slowly but surely, he lifts a foot and stomps. Then the other follows suit and soon finds some sort of strange, hesitant rhythm that pauses frequently until he learns to stop looking at his feet and ignoring the unpleasant sensations. Focusing elsewhere, he glances towards the other vats and notices how quickly everyone else has taken to it. Back to Kimmila, he grunts a bit when she pokes him in the chest. Which of course, will earn her a jab or nudge in return. "A blast for you perhaps. I find it strange." he mutters. "How long do we do this for?" He wants out already!

Kimmila grins back at Abigail, nodding. "A first here, too, but something I've always wanted to do." When Th'ero nudges her, she resists the urge to shove him back, else they fall into the grapes squabbling like a couple of toddlers. So she just grins at him as she stomps around, keeping a hand on the edge of the vat at all times. "Until they're done?" she asks with a shrug. Leaning over the edge, she peers down at the thin stream of juice dribbling into the cask.

Abigail chuckles and nods as she hears Kimmila. "I'll admit I had been curious. So now I know!" This said while she grins and continues along stompstompstomp, and the grapes continues to get pressed and smooshed. Her gaze turns over to Edani and Inyri, dancing there is an idea to stomp out the grapes. She wonders if it works or not. "It's not that bad, though yes it does fel sorta strange." There goes her attempt to help out showing dear Th'ero all is alright! It jsut feels strange it does, icky grape bits sticking between toes, and others things along those lines.

South. West. Whichever! Inyri shrugs, laughing delightedly indeed as Edani agrees to the dance. "Um, that sounds like 'goog,'" she translates, with a smirk on her lips and light in her eyes. "I'm not /entirely/ sure what that means, but I'm completely certain it's encouraging. Do you want to try a jig? I can make you look good, and it'll definitely make a dent in the grapes." That's for sure; a good jig, even without shoes, will make total juice out of the grapes.

"Doing alright Kimmila," answers Edani belatedly, obviously distracted and doing a bit of a double-take when he notices she's coerced the Weyrleader into grape-stomping too. Wow. She's his hero now. When Inyri gives him an answer, he lifts a finger and corrects with a twinkle, "Nope, they're just letting out a little whine." Whine-wine, get it? Okay that was corny. As for the jig, he simply nods as he trods, quipping, "You just concentrate on looking good yourself and I'll be happy with that."

Th'ero is not as good with resisting or waiting to exact revenge it seems. Because the Weyrleader will shove Kimmila back and does so, aiming to clip her low and throw her off kilter. He doesn't take in account of not being on solid ground though so it turns into some awkward maneuver that has him frantically trying to regain his own footing. Which means he falls too (unless she doesn't and then the joke really is on him!), but partially, catching most of his weight on his arm as it comes out to break his downwards descent. Just as quick, he's back on his feet and without thinking, flicks his arm free of the half pressed grape-goop that clings. Heads up! And what was that about acting like toddlers? Cause Th'ero just acted like one and is pulling quite the disgusted face before straightening his posture, schooling features back to neutral and also brushing off the worst of it from his pants. Back to Weyrleader-mode. No one saw it… well, except for whichever poor soul gets smacked by flung crushed grapes and likely whoever is closest. The looks he gives too say all: go about the work, folks. Nothing to see. "It does feel strange," he replies belatedly to Abigail, likely in an attempt to smooth over his not-so suave attempt to dunk his own Weyrmate. "But you lot seem to be adjusting to it well enough."

Kimmila grins, waving an arm at Abigail. "We're all about experiences! Maybe you'll decide to become a vinter if you don't Impress." Ahh, so /that's/ why the crafts are so eager to participate in this. Potential apprentices! How…crafty of them. (Har har har). She's about to comment on Edani and Inyri's flirting (it's /so/ obvious) when Th'ero /shoves/ her. How un-weyrleader-y of him! The bluerider is clearly shocked that he would do such a thing, and her expression is priceless as her arms windmill and flail before she goes down, trying to catch herself against the edge of the vat and only managing to give her forearm a bit of a scrape. She lands flat on her back in the grapes and juice (there goes /that/ outfit), and scrambles to her feet in a sort of 3 Stooges comedy of slipping and sliding. And then, in thoughtless retaliation, she grabs a fistful of grape-mush and flings it at Th'ero. So much for being diplomatic and on their best behavior?

Abigail chuckles softly whie she turns to look back towards Th'ero and Kammila, wait until she tells Fellan about this outing that he has missed! "Naw, I'd go back to being a guard. I'm ratehr good at that already." No reason to change jobs. An once this is said she gets a face full of grape gunk and she acks! Blinking an pausing to wipe off the goop she smirks faintly. "Oh, could be worse. Sorta like calmbering about in a muddy field." She chuckles while blinks as she looks up in time to catch sight of Kimmila throwing grape-mush?… "Oh dear.."

Inyri flirts like she breathes, though, when she's in a good mood — so nobody can /really/ judge her, right? It's just that she loves everyone, you know. Her eyes open /wide/ as she catches a glimpse of Kimmila and Th'ero, and she actually uses the hand that had once been on Edani's shoulder to cover her mouth for a moment to avoid choking out a laugh. "Well, /that/ was amazing," she whispers to him, not actually giggling hysterically, but in part because she's oh-so-focused on her feet. "Though I also liked your pun."

Kazulen squawks, of course, as his Polished and Professional and Diplomatic co-grape-smushers degenerate to behaving like four-year-olds in a mud puddle. A very purple staining sort of mud puddle, that is! He attempts to dive to safety; there is, sadly, no safety to be found, nowhere, no how — but now there's a great, growing grape explosion of juicy pulp spreading away from the Weyrleader's violated tub, and a Kazulen-shaped grape stain on the floor, too. Well. That'll come out in the wash eventually, won't it…?

Flailing Weyrleader-y types distracts Edani so that he's open-mouthed for a moment, swallowing the shout of laughter he really wants to let out. That might be a bad idea, so let's not. "It smells much better than the muddy fields I usually wade around in," Edani tosses towards Abigail with a smirk that widens at her sudden faceful of smooshed grapes. His eyes are dancing as he recaptures Inyri’s hand and guides it back to his shoulder. "Thank you," he says lowly, brown eyes crinkled in laughter. For the compliment? For the hand back? Both probably! Yeaah, he's focused on Inyri's feet too. They're turning such a pretty pink!

Th'ero should have learned never to turn his back on Kimmila or, rather, know far better then to do it. So while he's attempting damage control for his little stunt, he's not aware of her recovery and the handful of grape-mush she gathers. Diplomatic and best behavior? Gone. Sort of. Either way, the Master is getting work done on these grapes, even if it means they're using full bodies rather then the traditional feet-only stomping. She'll hit her target though and with a half strangled curse that is half grunt as well, it clips him in the shoulder, which also sends it up the back of his neck and a bit into his hair. "Agh, shard it all, Kimmila!" he growls. Very Un-Weyrleader like now! He also gives himself a shake, twitching. Eew, it's in his shirt! For his credit, he doesn't send some flying back at the bluerider, leaving her the winner (again!). Kazulen's rather spectacular exit of the vat has his attention instead, Th'ero giving Kimmila darting look before he's stepping from the vat as well to check on the now fully stained Candidate. "You alright?" he asks, all stiff and business like again. Probably not the most compassionate of folks to have by your side.

"Fine," Kazulen squeaks, shooting an Edani's-foot-covering-eating grin up at Th'ero, gathering himself up to all fours, and … shaking all the grape juice off himself, canine-like. He's going to share those stains with everyone, which is at least slightly less of an arrestable offense than actually turning and shoving Th'ero straight back into the vat. Right? Of course right. And now he's going to run awayyyyyy, before the Weyrleader can have his revenge. (Also, he hopes, to find new, clean clothes.)

Kimmila loves how Th'ero didn't ask her if /she/ was alright. She gives his back a bit of a glare, but then it's gone, replaced with a wry smirk as she gets to her feet and tries to get off the worst of the grape bits. Her clothes are totally stained at this point, as she climbs out of the vat. "You okay?" It's then that the Master returns, and the Journeymen and Apprentices that had witnessed this entire, rumor worthy spectacle, suddenly get /very/ interested in what they were doing. The Master pauses at the sight, but recovers quickly enough with a guffaw. "Happens all the time," he says, setting down the tray he was carrying with a flourish. As promised, there are small sample cups for the Candidates, and some larger ones for the Guards and the riders. "Come get your taste!"

"Well, don't /they/ look great." That's Inyri on — well, everyone. Kimmila, Th'ero, Kazulen. She's shaking her head a little, and with most of her hairpins on her pants, the hair catches a bit of wind and wafts around, getting in her face. Which requires her to toss her head /again/, of course. There's definitely grape goo in her hair now, but hey, she can wash it! "I mean, that was actually hysterical — which I should probably feel bad about, but, uh." She's busy dancing with a friend in a vat of squished grapes. How can one feel bad about anything? "Oh, hey, we get to actually drink now," she adds, glancing over her shoulder, nose screwed up a little bit in a funny smile. "Which might mean we have to /stop/ dancing."

Abigail shakes her head as she hears Edani. "I'll take yer word for it." This said with an amused tone at the idea of the fields he has been stomping in knowing what craft he is involved in and what he talked about his feet been sloshing through. She works on getting the grapey bits off her face and did some get in her hair? Most likely yes, she gives her head a good shake sending curls bouncing and blinks as she watches Kazulen take a swan dive out from the vat. A soft ah escapes her at the sight and she moves over to lean against the vat wall slightly that she is in and peers down at the fallen guard. "Kazulen…?" Is questioned with a worried tone, her pale blue gaze unmoving for a moment. At the sudden shake from the fallen she smirks and eyes him slightly. "Oh so funny…" If that happens all the time she is rather sure she doesn't want to work in the vats for long. She shifts and shakes her head while making her way out frm the vat, eyeing her grape covered feet and the bits that are all clinging.

With a chuckle, "They look purple," Edani says with a very wide, wide smile for the mayhem. Who knew Th'ero-Kimmila couple could be so gruff-tough-cute?! All the while he's mimicking Inyri's movements, though he’s a half-beat behind her, he’s not doing too badly. He's quite enjoying her joy and reluctant to stop but there's wine. He's breathless anyway and so offers her an arm once again. "C'mon Pink Legs," he invites with a leer at said juicy legs. Harmony might just be sorry she didn't prance around in the grapes when she sees them!

Th'ero isn't that callous! Once he's certain that Kazulen is unharmed, he gives the Candidate a nod and then sends him off to one of the Guards to help him clean off. Revenge won't come, it seems. Though he does turn to Kimmila and now he does give her a concerned look, eyeing her clothing. "I'll replace them," he says gently but truthfully. Even if the stains come out. "Are you alright? Your arm?" See? He was paying attention and he's already reaching to gently grasp it in his hand. Then the Master is returning and Th'ero tries not to look too unsettled by the guffaw. "Our thanks, Master, for the experience and for the samples." he says in an even and steady tone. Might as well brush it off as what it is rather then fight it, right?

If Kimmila heard Edani call her and Th'ero gruff-tough-cute, she'd punch him. Probably in the face. Eying Th'ero for a long moment, she shrugs and glances at her arm, which has a bit of a shallow scrape but it's really not bad at all. "Yeah," she says to his talk of replacing clothes, and then she eyes his and quirks a grin. "It got you to wear color?" That's a plus, right? She climbs out of the vat, using Th'ero's arm or shoulder to help insure she doesn't slip as she goes. "I need wine, thank Faranth," she mutters, rinsing off her feet in the now-clean water before she toddles over to pour herself a glass, and one for Th'ero as well, motioning for the Candidates to come sample. Lifting her glass, she grins. "To…" She sucks at toasts. "Squishy things and tradition!"

Abigail shakes her head slightly, a soft chuckle escapes her and she goes about getting some of the grapey bit s off her feet in the process while she shifts. A wine sampling sounds good to her! Her clothing is a bit well spotched and gunked in certain ares but she doesn't seem to bother her all that much. "Well, at least it was fun." Could have been a boring lesson about how grapes grow, and how they make the barrles, or perhaps what typ of dirt is needed for certain plants? That is what she would consider boring. With some more gunk off her toes, which wiggle a few times to help this she is over to get said sample!

How… fortunate for Edani that he merely meta'd that gruff-tough-cute sentiment? He lends Inyri a hand out of the tub, gentleman that he is, and pays close attention that she doesn't slip on grape-y feet as they make their way over to those samples. Lifting his, he adds, "To friends." He doesn't wax eloquent but perhaps his sentiment is shared?

Th'ero wouldn't be quite so physical as Kimmila in his reaction. He'd likely just glower and glare disapprovingly. Maybe find some snarky response. Right now though he does frown a little at the scrape. Shallow or not, he's a little guilty over the cut. At her comment on color, he glances down and then snorts. "So you did. Again." he replies dryly, but when he looks up again he's smiling faintly and wryly. The Weyrleader will be her support as well without complaint and once she's steadied on the ground, he too goes about cleaning off as best he can. Then it's off to some wine, a full glass, not like the tiny portions the Candidates will get. Stepping close to Kimmila's side, he'll slip an arm around her while using his other hand to lift his glass as well, waiting for the last of the Candidates to approach before adding. "And to the Vintner Hall's and it's Master's hospitality." Along with the rest.

Kimmila loops her other arm around Th'ero's waist, standing easily beside him without leaning on him or doing anything that'd be gag-worthy PDA. Lifting her LARGE glass in a toast, she then takes a DEEP pull of it, sighing happily. "That's some good stuff," she says, flashing the Master a grin. "Can we name this bottling," she adds, nodding to the vats, "Candidate Chaos?" Because that'd be awesome. The Master guffaws as he sips his own smaller (but not as small as the Candidates'!) glass. "I'll consider it. Thank you all for coming, and I hope some of you return, perhaps as apprentices."

Abigail eyes her tiny sample of wine, that it huh? Very well. A thankful smile is seen and she nods to The Master and lifts her /tiny/ glass, or is it a thimble? "Indeed. An to the weyrleader and company that let all this happened. It was a grand idea." Then she is eyeing the thimble of wine and ponders if she can just take a sip from it, but that is about all that is there so she drinks it down. Yay! a sip of good wine. At the idea for the name for the vintage she chuckles. "Wouldn't it be more Weyrleader Ch…" She pauses and sends a slight look towards Th'ero and then inches over a bit closer to Edani and eyes her now empty tiny glass. "Candidate Chaos works!"

Lost in the crowd, easily does Harmony blend in, and thus managed to escape the touch of squished grapes to dainty feet. Her tiny taste-test of wine is lifted in toast, dainty nose wrinkled as slate-on-beryl eyes sparkle at the hint of a smile private in nature. Teeny taste is taken, critical in the moment, before sweetened lips are licked. Taste test done, grace is not inherent to the spoiled girl's countenance, but the dip and rise of her head also goes along with the general sentiment woven through the crowd: Thanks. Eyelashes fall to curtain off the gaze of a girl who's beginning to test the waters of mischief. Chaos, indeed. Perhaps, a second, baby-tiny test will be sought after, should any have left aside theirs in careless fashion. Still a part of the crowd, is Harmony.

< There were more poses after this - feel free to add them here. >

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License