Over or Under Ice

Characters Briari, Daija, Neyuni
Synopsis Weyrbrat shenanigans and then a bit of chatter in the serving line.
Out-of-Character Date November 26, 2014

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.

Kids will be kids - even the teenage kind. There's a small group of them off to the side of the living cavern, mostly young men and a couple budding-women. It's the former causing all the trouble, as they play keep away from a boy of around eight turns, waggling his hat above his head and laughing as they toss it around. Nothing unusual here, just the pecking order common among weyrbrats, and therefore nothing for Daija to get bent out of shape about. She's standing next to another girl - this one more lithe with puffy brown curls that stand out from her head - looking relaxed, arms folded over her meager chest. "Eh, y'know how them things go, they ain't got a pot to piss in but they're 'tendin' they do. T'wasn't ever a problem, till now." Her female companion nods her head, hair bouncing, but her dark eyes are on the horseplay and that dark-skinned boy waving his arms as he chases after his hat.

Striding through the living caverns is a girl that sticks out quite easily amongst the sun-burnt faces of Igen Weyr. Every inch of Briari screams loudly that she is a girl born on the beaches of Monaco, from her tanned skin and lean, muscled beach body. Instead of wearing something a bit more fancy and fabuluos for a change, she has elected to wear a pair of brown pants and a simple green shirt to handle the Igen heat and dessert atmosphere. Her blonde curls are lightly pulled back into a simple pony tail instead of flopping about her shoulders per usual. As her boots thump along past the kids, a quick hand reaches out to snag the hat in mid-air, then in one fell swoop drops it down to plant it into the young boy's chest so that he can have his hat back. All in stride, she makes her way for the breakfast line, slipping her guitar off her back as she goes.

Surprised faces go all around, but the young boy, stealing a look at Daija, tugs his hat on and escapes while the getting is good. Several disgruntled voices pipe up at once. Amongst them, one stands out the most, being well over six feet and bulky, with stretched-thin tanned skin and cinnamon-colored hair. "Hey, mind yer own business from now on, ya stupid git," he says loudly, trying to be heard over the voices nearby, and growls petulantly as he turns back to his cronies. They're all staring after Briari, with varying expressions of curiosity, annoyance, and one or two with humor. Daija is mildly curious herself, twisting at the waist so she can follow the footsteps of the other girl. "Ain't no need to attack her jus yet, Nax, she t'ain't worth ya time."

"Just toast for me, please, and juice if you have it." Briari tells the wait staff as she stops before the tables, flashing a brillaint and positive smile despite the jeers behind meant for her ears. Once she plucks up her plate, she glances over her shoulder to the group of boys, tossing them a wink, mostly directed towards the six-foot loudmouth, then heads to a table to settle in. Her guitar is placed against her left leg, purposely, and she starts to munch on her toast. Between bites, she hums to herself, a playful melody with a complicated number of chords that drift past her lips.

Nax appears to be their fearsome, if simple, leader and by the way he defers to the smaller girl, she must have some take on their group too. They quiet down on their side of the cavern, but keep casting glares and shade towards the blonde. "As I were sayin, that idjit actin all high n mighty like he be the Weyrwoman hisself. Can't spell ta save his life, but he sure got /airs/," Daija sighs, flicking imaginary granules of sand off her black tunic. "Seems he needs some learnin, yeah?" Nax gleefully answers, his pale eyes narrowed with amusement now, his grin a little too wolfish to simply be suggesting he teach the subject of their chatter how to read. "Ya, could be." Daija flicks Nax a bemused look. There, something passes between them, unspoken, and the taller boy gathers his lackeys to leave.

What happens in Igen, stays in Igen. Briari can catch bits of the conversation but she isn't about to interfere or jump in. It's none of her business. (But the poor boy with that hat, she made that hers.) After finishing her two pieces of toast and sipping down her juice, out comes a small journal from her shoulder bag, followed by the guitar being pulled into her lap. Strumming along with her fingers slowly, she quietly hums a few bars, then writes down a lyric or two, followed by another slow strum. At times, the Harper from Monaco glances up to the caverns, almost expectantly waiting for someone to join her.

The living caverns are a bit sparse right now, but a blonde harper from Monaco is residing at one of the tables, and on the other end of the cavern Daija and her friend are watching their other, less than reputable friends skulk off to the bowl. "He's kinda dumb," Daija mumbles, finger lined up against her nose, and slants her kohl-rimmed eyes towards the other girl. "But he looks amazing with his shirt off," says the voluminous-haired girl, with a mischievous grin as she, too, slinks off after their group of too-old-to-be-weyrbrats. "Faranth help me." This last mutter from Daija, who wanders over to the food line to argue with a server about the advantages of putting the fruit ''under'' the ice or ''over'' the ice.

As the blonde Harper from Monaco continues to strum away at her guitar, it seems that she has found her 'zone' and is currently scribbling furiously away at the journal in front of her. The empty plate and cup is nudged to the side with her elbow. "Will the rain starts falling tonight? - Because I can no longer handle the light. We wander in a place of drought - when it comes, the flood will help us out. I want to dance in the puddles and celebrate the rain! I want to jump into the water, and celebrate the rain!" The guitar is paused for a moment as she works on fixing one of those lyrics.

Neyuni strolls in with several other riders, although she's not particularly gossipy with them. Whatever business they've had seems to have concluded, whether for the better or worse it's hard to say as each drifts on to their next task of the day. As for Neyuni it seems a bit of a snack and refreshment is on her bucket list and in that direction she heads. Ears catch a strain of music before attention settles primarily to the food. With the sparse crowd there doesn't seem to be much of a line to deal with and as she looks over the offerings, inadvertently hearing a discussion over, or under?, of ice. "I suppose we could do a platter of one over, and a bucket with one under and see which gets eaten first?" she offers randomly as she picks up one of the cold meat pies from the selection.

"Ma'am," Daija prefaces, dipping her head in polite respect, "pardon, but we done had this problem 'fore. Ice on top crushes 'em, ice under keeps em cool an crunchy." A glare is given the server, who looks poised to continue the argument, despite the Weyrwoman's intervention. "Dun give me tha lip, Serg, go ask my ma and she'll set ya straight." There's much grumbling, under Serg's breath, as the infirmary aide takes a cup of the frozen fruit assortment and moves to the side, to allow the goldrider ample space.

Catching the conversation in regards to ice on top or on the bottom, Briari giggles a bit to herself as she gives another light strum before she puts the guitar back down against her leg. Propping her chin up in the palm of her hand, she watches the interaction curiously.

Neyuni has been pretty patient with the kitchen staff these last months anyways and now seems to expect better results "Well, I suppose I'm not to picky long as my weyrfolk are happy," she pauses "oh… but it doesn't sound as if you are so happy…" and that makes Neyuni.. unhappy? Gaze settles on the poor server who swallows hard. She takes her time picking out a few select pieces of the fruit "soggy, squished fruit would be such a shame." and moving along she considers what drinks there might be following Daija in the line without hurry, continuing conversationally. "I was in the infirmary the other day, and who was it complaining to me they thought their might be a tunnelsnake about since some of the bandage supplies kept getting knocked in a messy pile, but I wasn't so sure it mightn' just be some folk fooling around. Have you noticed anything?"

"I'm fine, ma'am, jus tired of arguing with idjits," Daija says, equally as conversationally, scooping fruit onto her spoon and into her mouth. "Coulda been Doran. He's always complainin bout somethin. Can't say as I don't blame him, but not now. Nothin outta place I seen, could be one of the kids foolin round in things. Prentices not always watchin their charges, if'n ya see what I'm sayin." She's content to stand on the side and comment, since it seems she's off-duty for now and obviously /not/ out in the desert.

Neyuni looks a little amused at the idiots comment as she gather a cup of klah and looks for a place to sit. "Well I've been on my feet all morning. You're welcome to join if you'd like, Daila isn't it?" She's still not the best with names "I was certainly thinking it sounded more like play than pests myself, but I didn't want to seem rude." and makes her way towards the table with the musician, sitting on the opposite end so as not to intrude.

Giggling softly to herself, Briari leans back in her chair and drags her journal forward to her a bit closer, then turns another page. Starting to sketch with her pencil, she watches the pair move about the line as she creates the visual of the weyrwoman and the other girl upon her paper. With another glance to the tunnels, she squints her eyes, then drops her shoulders. Seems that her party may be late to meet her. Oh well.

Most people might drop what they're doing to entertain the Weyrwoman's company, but Daija has an agenda of her own. "Nah, thanks, but I've gotta get some things done a'fore the sun sets today. Enjoy your food, ma'am. I'll talk to tha Weyrhealer and see what yer talkin bout, maybe it's something we're overlookin," she says, with a wave, and meanders towards the exit.

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