Fort Weyr - Living Caverns
This cavern, having been created by bubbles in the volcanic flow of this extinct volcano, has a breathtaking ceiling — a vast dome that arches high above the heads of the weyrfolk that scurry around beneath it. A hollow echo can be heard from loud enough noises, and the chatterings of various firelizards are consequently multiplied into a chaotic babble. All in all, the living cavern is a loud place.
Tables are scattered around the room, apparently in no particular order. Over to one side near the kitchens, two medium sized serving tables are constantly spread with snacks, klah, and other goodies. The tables look worn, yet perfectly fitted to the atmosphere of the caverns. In the 'corners' of the cavern, smaller two and four place tables are set up for more private talks or just a less chaotic atmosphere in which to eat.


It's a lovely winter afternoon, with thick white snow drifting down in the bowl into fluffy drifts. Within the caverns, warm air circulates steadily, pushed by the steadily thrumming heaters. As afternoon ages into evening those who have been out in the biting cold have eagerly congregated in the caverns, clustering in groups in front of the heating vents, gathered together around bowls of soup and mugs of klah. Among these, easily chatting with some of the aunties, is Idralia, in a cluster near the merrily burning fireplace. With a few quiet words she parts from them, rising and heading over to collect a fresh mug of klah.

Carlyn pauses by the entrance, shaking show from shoulders and hair, and kicking a bit of muck off her shoes (Sorry drudges!!) before moving on. There's a bit of dirt on her face, and maybe a piece of straw in her hair, but she looks better than usual for having spent the afternoon in the stables. She pulls her gloves off as she heads for the klah pot, stuffing them in her pockets before reaching for a mug. Cold hands wrap around warm ceramic, and Lyn sighs audibly. "Nothing like Klah when there's snow outside," she says cheerfully.

Aniki appears admist a flourish of several fur robes and snow flurries. Cold snowflakes and wind blowing shoulder length black hair back as he makes his grand entrance. Bright blue eyes scan the caverns almost dismissively…until he spots a certain girl. "Kitten!" Light, graceful, and almost dance like steps carry the weaver towards Carlyns, tooping down and looking up at her before giving a once over. Inspection done, Aniki gives a small click of his tongue and shakes his head. "Hmmm, I have to say that you've certainly managed to do a bit better. But really kitten, you CANNOT go around with straw in your hair." With that, he takes the liberty to pluck it from her hair, staring at the piece of straw with a distasteful frown before gently blowing it from his hand.

Idralia chuckles as she pours klah into her mug, giving the stablehand an understanding look. "True enough. I'm glad it's snow and not sleet or ice. I'm hoping it stays nice and fluffy," she says as she sets the pitcher down and moves on to adding sweetener. "Brisk out in the stables?" she asks as she steps out of the way, sipping at the newly mixed mug with a happy sigh. Aniki's grand entrance catches her attention, and she watches him with faint amusement as the weaver traipses over. "Straw is the new fashion, haven't you heard? It gives a girl a lovely country look that is so alluring right now," she murmurs, just loud enough to be heard.

"Me too, but it never will," says Carlyn of fluffy snow. She sighs a bit and lifts her mug, though it's just to sniff at, no sipping yet. "Actually no. The stables themselves stay rather warm, which I was surprised at. I guess it's all that body heat from the runners. And of course, I spend all my time moving around. Keeps me warm. It's walking outside that's no fun. And breaking up the ice in the outside troughs is always a joy," she says with clear sarcasm, grinning. Aniki's entrance and pronouncement have Carlyn looking a bit stiff and scared. She puts a hand on her head as he plucks away the straw, looking a little sheepish. "It just jumps up there. I have no idea how it gets there…"

At Idralia's comments, the weaver looks over towards the techcrafter and gives the girl an assesment as well. "Really, if you knew what the current fashion's were you would NOT be dressed like that. /I/ on the other hand have an IMPECCABLE sense of fashion. With the amount of beauty I have, there's a certain burden to dress properly." Eyes wander back towards Carlyn however and Aniki leans back on the table, pulling his wooden fan out from one of his jackets and pointing it towards her hair. "That can be fixed. As can the clothes. In fact, you'd clean up quite nicely. Now….you best be taking notes on this kitten, it isn't every day that I go about honoring people with my advice."

"I know, but it's nice to wish," Idralia says wistfully, turning the mug between her hands to keep them warm. "Really? Hmmm, that's good. Can't have much in the way of heaters out there because of the straw, so I'm glad to hear it can stay warm." She snorts as Aniki turns his attention to her, shaking her head slightly. "It's called a joke, and I wear this because I have to crawl through vents and deal with grease. I'd rather not damage some nicer garments, thank you," she replies evenly. to Carlyn she offers, "If you want I can take notes. I always have a notepad on hand." She taps her beltpouch in confirmation.

"You crawl through vents?" asks Carlyn, looking both surprised and a little in awe. "Clearly, I have no idea what a techcrafter does…" more to herself, really. "I thought you guys just… played on computers," she admits sheepishly. But Aniki cannot be ignored for long. Because he's /Aniki/. Lyn chews her lip a bit, and then hides the gesture with a clever lift of her klah mug. "Notes?" she says, at just about the same time that Idralia is offering to take them for her. She looks a bit uncertain, but eventually decides, "I can probably remember," to Idralia and, "I have a great memory," is said to Aniki, to sooth any insult she might have accidently given by not physically writing down his every word. "But I have to agree with Idralia. This is practical," she says of her clothes. "Not everyone gets to spend their days… looking pretty."

"Really, you don't have wear THOSE kinds of clothes just for practicality's sake. Using your work as an excuse isn't befitting of a lady." With a flick of his hand, Aniki unfolds his fan, beginning to wave it at himself before scrutinizing Carlyn once more. "And I'll tell you the same thing. An exuse like that isn't proper at ALL. If you were concerned about your image you could easily ask a brilliant and skillful weaver such as me to reccommend something." For a few moments, Aniki closes his eyes, basking in self-praise before snapping his fan shut and pointing at Carlyn once more. "NO! No, this will not do. This will not do at all. Neither notes nor memory. You will be coming to my Miki's weyr today and we shall fix you."

"Yes, I do," Idralia replies with a brief smile. "That's computercrafters, not techies. I get to do all the fun mechanical maintenance, like keeping that mammoth heater of the Weyr's running." Since the stablehand has declined her offer of notes, Idra turns her attention back to Aniki. "When you do my job you can tell me what is suitable to the work and what is not. Until then, I would appreciate it if you refrain from commenting on the needs of my work," she says to him archly. "Practicality does preclude fashion in many instances, and my work is one of them."

"Oh? Oh," says Carlyn, contemplative. "Actually, that sounds much more interesting," she mutters to Idralia about vents versus computers. She sips at her klah, in long, lingering motions, probably so she can come up with her next response to the Weaver. But for all his flash and flair, Lyn is actually paying close attention, even if she tries to pretend like she isn't. "Um… no offense Sir," because it never hurts to say 'sir' right? "But I doubt even you could make an outfit that would look good on me after I muck about a dozen stalls…" and a bit softer, "you do know what mucking is, right?"

Aniki rolls his eyes at the techcrafter, clicking his tongue with obvious distaste. "Yes yes, blame your lack of fashion sense on work. Continue your denial and excuses. It really is in poor taste. Saying you do not want to or do not care is one thing, hiding behind your craft is another altogether." The flick of his hand he aims at her is rather indifferent, as are the words that follow. "Perhaps I shall let you have the honor of giving you my precious time at some other point, when you aren't so lost in your ways." The weaver's attention then moves to Carlyn, a rather egotistical smile crossing his face. "You DOUBT ME? My kitten, the skills I possess rival my beauty. Nothing is impossible. My knowledge of course does not pale in comparison either. Of course I know what mucking is. Even mucking cannot hinder ME!"

Idralia snorts softly, commenting, "I'm not blaming a lack of fashion sense on anything. As it happens, I have plenty of fashion sense. I simply choose to not dress for current fashions when other garments are more suited to my work. It's hardly my fault if you have trouble accepting that reality." A pause, then, "As for your time, respectfully, I decline. I have no interest in availing myself of your expertise, and would appreciate it if you withhold disparaging comment for what clearly does not match your sense of fashion."

Carlyn considers things, her lips pressed together in a thin line as her eyebrows furrow. Clearly, there is some deep thought going on behind those brows. "Well, a consultation couldn't hurt," decides Lyn, of herself of course. If Idralia doesn't want to partake, all the better for Lyn. She does flash the techcrafter an emphatic glance. "Just gotta ignore him," she says covertly, hiding behind her mug incase Aniki is of the type to lipread. "But, perhaps not tonight?" And back to Aniki. "Maybe tomorrow? After I've, er, had a bath?"

It isn't that Aniki is ignoring to what Idralia has said, he simply doesn't bother to listen. It is as if she wasn't right there just beside them. Another of his often infuriating habits. "Hmm…you are. About 5'3, perhaps a little above or below I believe. A good height. But Miki's clothes won't work on you…" The assesment given as he once more begins to eye Carlyn. The man claps his hands together softly twice before bringing the fan to his chin thoughtfully and then making a twilring motion. "Turn around if you'd please. I'll take note of your physique and think on it tonight….I should be able to adjust a few of my designs to work and we'll try them tomorrow."

A nod of Carlyn's head, a sip of her klah and, after blushing furiously, she offers up that small turn for Aniki. If she's getting' in the pool, she might as well dive head first. "Much obliged," would be her attempt at high-etiquette. But, really, now it's just too much for the girl. "I will see you in a few days, then…" and after flashing Idralia a quick, apologetic smile, Lyn is heading for the tables. To hide.

Aniki observes carefully, practiced eyes taking note of the stablehand's build, the colors of her skin, eyes, and hair, as well as several other details, despite the turn being only a small one. "Mmm, yes I see. Well you certainly aren't bad material to work with. No one can really compare to my beauty, but perhaps with the proper clothes we can bring you a bit close. For now however, this beautiful head of mine must be used. It isn't purely for girls and boys to stare at in awe. Until I grace you with my presence again." His version of 'until we meet again' is given and a parting wave with his fan before Aniki disappears in another swirl of fur coats.

Idralia doesn't seem to mind being ignored, sedately sipping her klah as she watches the weaver be himself. As he talks and Carlyn replies she observes, quiet, patient, taking in his comments and the stablehand's reactions. It isn't long before Carlyn is beating a hasty retreat and Idra nods in response to the quick smile. The dramatic departure of the weaver elicits a final snort from the techie and a soft mutter of, "He has such an ego." Refilling her mug once more, the crafter returns to her seat with the aunties, easing back into conversation with them and passing the afternoon with pleasurable company.


'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.