Are You Suggesting That Pianos Migrate?

Characters S'las, Triven, Ariadne
Synopsis Just some good old fashion socializing during meal time.
Out-of-Character Date May 13, 2018

Igen Weyr - Living Caverns
Second only to the Hatching Sands in size -- although its walls are not so nearly circular -- the living cavern is filled with numerous rectangular tables, almost too many to count. The Weyrleaders have the table farthest from the kitchen and hearths at one end of the cavern. The hearths are kept as low-burning as possible during the day when folk come inside to escape the heat outside. They burn brighter at night to keep away the deserts chill. No matter hte level of flame, there is always a stew pot that hangs for nibblers at a good temperature. Favored drinks, particularly iced klah and juice, are kept on ice and interspersed at various food tables scattered about, along with baskets of rolls and fruit. There are, of course, scheduled mealtimes, and at certain points of the day the available fare slides into the menu for the nearest meal, be it breakfast, lunch, dinner, or late-night snackings, but the staff has long since acknowledged that people will sit to talk and nibble here at all hours. In the cooler parts of the evening in particular, the cavern hosts games of chess, checkers, dragonpoker, and others. Several degrees are knocked off thanks to the Technician Craft's cooling system.


The spring evening is finally starting to cool down, and the living cavern is starting to fill up. Not packed yet as people are still finishing there work, though some people seem to already be enjoying the first pickings of food. Triven, the skinny tattoo artist from Irene is one such person as he sits down at a table more towards the back and is idly eating food while making little scribbles in a drawing pad.

And the Grand Tour of Pern continues. Somehow, Ariadne has found herself sent from the hall to Xanadu, then Ierne, and now Igen. She takes a breath as she lks around the desert weyr's living cavern, a small carisak over her shouklder, a gitar case in one hand. She can't help shaking her head, not sure where to go.

Just because it's the evening, it doesn't mean the weyrs leading staff can settle down with the general populace. The Weyr's Steward can be heard, speaking crossly with kitchen staff in regards to a thick stack of notes wielded in his old hands. S'las happens to enter at this moment, stepping aside before gathering up his own tray and making it across the caverns to settle down for a nice, quiet, and peaceful dinner. He glances over to Triven, a brow raised in question while he takes his napkin and lays it out to prevent food from spilling on his clothing. "You're a brave man for wanting to work at these tables. Food tends to spill and it isn't always your own." Which is true, as a tray goes clattering to the floor somewhere behind him. The elder bluerider clears his throat and carefully begins to cut up his meat.

Triven looks up and blinks at S'las, his almond eyes owlishly take in the rider before he looks around as if realizing he isn't the only one in the room and blushes his ears turning a bright pink. "Oh sorry, sometimes I forget where I am when I am working…" He quickly closes the drawing pad safely storing it away from attacks of way ward meals.

Ariadne isn't quite so lucky. The tray clatters just short of her feet. That's all well and good, excepot that the food on that tray ends up all over the skirt, shoes, and lower legs of the willowy harper girl. "Oh!" She steps back, a dismayed expression on her face. "Um…" However, rather than saying anything angry, she sets aside her things, and kneels down tohelp clean up the mess.

"There's nothing wrong with that," S'las murmurs as he takes a bite from his plate. The noise behind him just earns a little rolling of the eyes and he continues on his meal. This is a nightly occurence. The first sevenday, he'd fly from his seat to find out the whos and the whats but turns later, he's over it. "Just make sure all that hard work doesn't get ruined by flying food. During the non peak hours are a little safer. It's rather busy here." He does relent, turning his head at the very least towards the kitchens. A matronly drudge is already on her way with some towels for the poor girl.

Triven nods as he starts to eat his food, "thanks, do people usually throw food here at this Weyr? I mean Monaco sure, and Half Moon they blow up things and throw pianos.." if he was hoping for a more quiet eating experience seems like he needs to move on. When the noise happens he does jump. Though not to help more of the, stray dog avoiding violence kind of jump. It takes him a few moments to fight back that impulse before looking over to see the drudge helping the girl with the guitar.

Ariadne's attention is atrtracted at something said. "Throwing…pianos? Who was strong enough to throw a piano, and I hope tht the Hall didn't her out it. They're so rare, you know…." She greatfully takes the towell, and accepts the assistance from the drudge with the cleaning. "And could someone tell me where I can find the Weyrharper? I've been assigned here for a sevenday before going back t Ierne. I'm Senior Apprentice Harper Ariadne."

S'las twists around and stares at the woman, with a look of absolute bewilderment etched upon his face. "Why, didn't you hear?" His tone is serious and the look of his eyes grave. "He's no more! Struck down by a Piano and I never thought the myths were true but Half Moon Bay has yet again proven that such instruments most definitely migrate. Perhaps it was mating season and he struck to close to the mating tinkle-tinkle-tink! Weyrharper is a dangerous profession. Faranth, save him." Those last words spoken as he turns back to Triven with a deadpan look, picking up his fork and knife to resume his meal.

Triven is just staring slack jawed at the elderly blue rider, food half way into his mouth. "Wait.. REALLY?" is all he can say before he looks over at the young woman with a look of sympathy "So does that make you the new Weyrharper? I haven't live in a Weyr really so I don't know how these things are done." He slowly starts to eat again hoping his question will be answered.

Ariadne gets a /very/ wide eyed, herdbeast in the dragon's gaze expression. "Um, I /HOPE/ not. I'm only a Senior Apprentice. I'm not experienced enough to be Weyrharper, yet…" She trails off.

S'las peers over at Ariadne before glancing over to Triven, motioning his fork in a circle while he finishes chewing and swallowing his meal. "The Harperhall will find someone fitting to step up and avenge our dearly departed Weyrharper. Someone who is likely an expert at pianos so such a horrible tragedy isn't likely to happen again." The bluerider even puts a hand over his heart, lowering his head in mourning. Then he's back at his meal.

Triven nods at S'las, "lets hope so, it would really be a shame if someone met the same fate. Would show a lack of training somewhere.." He turns and gives Ariadne a warm smile "Why don't you come and join us, or you are likely to get spilled on again." He motions to a spot across the table from him.

Ariadne settles down in the offered chair. "Well, I do have pino training. But most piano experts I know are back at the hll, other than one at Ierne." She grins ruefully, and continues cleaning herself as she does. "Farantgh knows why the hll sent me here. I thought they were going to leave me at Ierne with Ebeny, at least for a whle, for additional voice training. But then I got the notice today…

"A lack of proper training can prove fatal." You know what makes wonderful music? The sound of forks and knives doing that eye twitching squeaking sound as they scrape across the bluerider's plate. The food is particularly good tonight and the old man is rather famished. At least S'las took care of poor Chessylith. Letting the dragon eat his fill, giving him a good scrubbing and oiling and letting him sleep soundly. "There is likely a subordinate you can report to if you can locate the Headwoman. She handles the weyr's logistics so she should be able to tell you where they can be found." Chain of command, and all that.

Triven does have that eye twitch going at the blue riders evening sonnet of dinner wear. He finishes his own meal and leans back "That must be really inconvenient, do the higher ups just shuffle you around all the time?" He looks to the blue rider before adding "Though I am sure the Senior rider here knows all about the dangers of the Weyr. So you might be in good hands?" Yes he is naive and hopefull.

Ariadne "giggles. "It /can/ be, but it's given me more adventures than I ever imagined…" She looks round at the mention of the Headwoman trying to see if sshe can find her. Mind yu, she's the daughter of a Major hold's steward, so she definiteoy knows what to look for.

She could be the daughter of the Weyrwoman of Fort and it won't make a lick of difference, S'las will still point to the Headwoman in terms of professional contacts. Anything territory related would be sent to the Weyr's Steward. Anything in regards to his roll smothered in the juices of his meat are sent to his mouth and he enjoys his meal while he can. "Igen is wrought with terrible things," he murmurs, cheeks full, to Triven. Nevermind that he's one of them!

Triven tilts his head at the elderly blue rider "Really? I guess I just got lucky last time I was here and met the love of my life instead." Because hey every romance starts with a terrible journey right. He smiles back to the Harper, "I am sure you will do fine, can I ask what your speciality is?"

Ariadne notes the headwoman for future reference, and makes a face at the ideaa of the love of one's life. "I'm not /quite/ redy for that, to be honest. Oh, my specialty is voice, with secondary in Gitar…" She grins wryly as she indicates the case "…and Archivist. Which may be why they're sending me all over the place. Except at Ierne, I was helping out with records.

Faraennequietly enters the room. She looks tired but happy. Slips over to a seat and pours herself some klah and gets a plate of snacks…

"My specialty is going home, having a good stiff drink, and then getting to bed while the evening is still young." S'las gathers up his dishes and stacks them neatly on the tray, then gathers up his napkin to clean his mouth before tossing it onto the pile. The elder bluerider rises, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor as he moves, scooting it back so he can make his way over to the staff collecting up dishware for proper washing. "Good night, and uh, watch out for migrating instruments, love type things, and the wailing in the night." You know, night time nature doing night time things and all that. With a nod of his head towards the tables occupants, he departs to places unknown.

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