August 15, 2004
R'hyn looks like an idiot - again - in front of T'ren, Scay and Asoelian.

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Asoelian comes out the short, wide tunnel from the lower caverns.

R'hyn's standing by the hearth, chatting quietly to a tall young women who works in the kitchens. She's got a tray full of dishes, and seems quite eager to get away, though politeness, it seems, is keeping her in place. Flushing, R'hyn murmurs something, and hastily turns away, cupping his mug in both hands. "Don't let me keep you. I'm sorry." She bustles off.

Scay is seated at a table near the hearth, picking over the remains of a meal that she has no intention of finishing. A drink in front of her is pooling condensation around it, a testament to how long she's been there. There's a thoughtful, distant expression on her face, deep in thought; though her eyes are pointed at R'hyn and his captive, she doesn't seem to really see him.

It's a scene Asoelian's only briefly privy to for the briefest of moments, for she steps into the living cavern's towards the end of such; her gaze trails after the young woman as she disappears before it return's to R'hyn. Aso herself pauses for a moment longer at the entrance until she's setting something in thought and motion, for all that she soon continues forwards. Heading now for the serving table as her gaze scans the items displayed.

R'hyn, pink-cheeked, grasps his mug more firmly and moves to take a seat at the nearest table - Scay's as it happens. Though he glances about it briefly, he makes no greeting; instead, he seems quite content to scrunch his shoulders in and sip his klah quickly - perhaps, given the steam still rising from his mug, a little /too/ quickly.

With a start, Scay jumps and blinks, flushing as she sees it is only R'hyn, settling down at her table. She offers him a strained, embarrassed smile and takes a bite of food, as if to prove she's actually here for a legimate reason. She grimaces nevertheless, looking like she'd like to spit it back out. Somehow, she swallows and gets a drink down as well, before resuming her picking at her food, and occasionally cutting her eyes curiously at the man.

Asoelian's attention is fixed on selecting her meal. So much so that it's the only thing she see's. Even as she goes about pulling various pieces of food onto the plate balanced atop her palm. Though it's not a great portion, it is none the less big enough to make even her consider some of her choices and to slide a few slices of meat off her plate and back onto their main platter before she's securing a mug of juice and turning with both in hand to scan the area for a seat. It's only then that Scay and R'hyn are re-acknowledged, and only then that Asoelian moves towards the table the two are situated at.

"You, um," says R'hyn, apparently having caught - probably only out of the corner of his eye - Scay's actions, "don't need to... eat that. I'm not going to dob on you, or anything." His flush has darkened, and he quickly ducks his head in an altogether timid action, hands clutching more tightly to the rim of his mug. In an effort to keep his gaze off of Scay, he turns his head, which has the result of planting his gaze in Asoelian's direction. "Oh. Hi."

Scay's flush intensifies. "Oh. Well. I wanted to," she lies, forcing a smile. "But I think I'm done now," she adds, just as quickly. She pushes the plate away with another odd expression. The arrival of Asoelian is a welcome distraction, as Scay focuses an altogether too-bright grin on the girl. "Hello!"

Asoelian pauses in her steps towards the pair's table, looking almost caught. Though it takes her reaction's a moment longer to surface, and such comes in the form of a small smile that's trained on them. "'evening." She dips her chin slightly downwards in a small nod to further that greeting as her gaze switches over the pair one last time, only for Asoelian to settle herself a few seats down from where they are. Scay's abandoned food is spotted as Asoelian's arranging her own, and it earns a soft comment of, "Something wrong with the food?"

R'hyn smiles hesitantly - thinly, too. "Oh. Okay." He hastily takes another sip from his mug, keeping silent; there doesn't seem much else for him to be able to say.

Evening twilight disperses and the true darkness of a spring evening settles in fully. A light wind ripples the air, chasing a few stray clouds across the sky. The spring air is cool, still brisk but no longer icy. (50F, 10C)

"Oh, no. Not at all," Scay tells Asoelian less than enthusiastically. "It's just... great. Really." She peers at the abandoned plate, then back up at the girl. "I'm picky," is her awkward defense. "Also full." She falls silent, biting at her lower lip as her mind scrambles for something else to say. "Beautiful day, wasn't it?" she latches upon at last. Pause, while she thinks over the validity of that. "Except... that it rained... most of the day," she amends slowly, frowning. Her flush isn't going anywhere, except maybe further up her neck.

T'ren comes out the short, wide tunnel from the lower caverns.

Flushes and thin smiles. They find Asoelian once more studying both R'hyn and Scay as a small pull on her lower lip is given as she bites softly on it. Her own food is almost laxly pushed about on her plate come Scay's response. "Mm. We had a problem with one of the 'beasts who always seemed to try to eat more'n he could handle. Half the time he ended up-" She however, pauses here to glance towards Scay as a partially amused grin filters over her lips, "Might actually have to save that one for another time." Because people didn't like hearing about those sorts of things as they ate.. or in this particular instance, didn't eat. As for R'hyn? It's he who's then asked, "Is it warm in here or...?"

R'hyn, Scay and Asoelian are sitting at a table near the hearth. The former is still flushed, his smile somewhat hesitant, and his manner seeming to suggest he's not very comfortable sitting and listening, but it may be more comfortable than anything else. Thus, as Asoelian addresses him, he turns pink again. "Sorry, what? Oh-- warm. Um. Not especially. Why?"

Scay stares blankly, blinking, at Asoelian. "I... see," she remarks drily, offering up a crooked smile. "Doesn't... seem real warm to me, though. But I'm usually cold," adds the girl, answering the question, nevermind that it was directed at R'hyn, whom she's still not quite willing to look at.

There is a bit of a flurry at the serving tables as a groggy T'ren tries to convince one of the kitchen workers that it really is a good idea that they give him wine or ale or heck anything with alcohol in it. When it becomes fairly clear that they've already been told not to give in he settles for a mug of klah with a growl. He heads hearthwards, only because there are bodies there. Mug gets set down on the table occupied by Aso, Scay and R'hyn and he offers the trio a slow nod, hand resting on a chair back, "Mind?"

Asoelian extends her fork towards R'hyn, "You're awfully pink." An astute comment, no doubt, "And you look a bit.." It's here that she once more haults, though the hesitation that's felt is covered up with a swallow of food, "..well..pink." And looking pink wasn't usually a sign of good health. At Scay's comment, Asoelian once more gives the other girl a studious look before something seems to catch and her lips give the faintest sign of a twitch at their very corner. "Must just be my imagination then." She offers non helpfully. T'ren's entrance is what gains a needed moment of distraction, and Aso gives the other a small shake of her head before shifting closer towards the far end of her seat.

T'ren pages: He's sporting a nicely blooming bruise across the right side of his jaw, looks like it'll be a good one since he got blasted there twice. Smells faintly of numbweed and fellis to boot.

R'hyn ums towards Asoelian, turning further pink. It's an unusual day when T'ren's arrival is greeted with enthusiasm, albeit, this time, surprise as well - a nice distraction. "Who clocked /you/?" he wants to know, staring in abject horror at the brownrider's bruises. "Um. Of course. Feel free."

"Not particularly," is the answer Scay gives T'ren, focusing her eyes next on him with more interest than she's shown in most of her company tonight. A slow, decidedly wicked smirk curves her mouth upward as she studies him. She offers Asoelian an indistinct nod, not having the grace to stop staring at the Weyrsecond and his bruises. "B'den, I bet," she offers R'hyn, almost cheerfully. Then, cheerfulness fades as she realizes perhaps she shouldn't have said that. She glances back down hastily, though she can't resist noting under her breath, "I /told/ Jorli."

T'ren drops into his chosen seat and promptly leans back in it. He turns to stare at R'hyn with mildly glazed eyes and finally clues in, running a hand over the right side of his face and wincing, "Forgot they were there," he mutters, "numbweed's lovely stuff." He does nod though as Scay takes the words right out of his mouth, "Mmmhmmm, B'den." He doesn't elaborate though, instead choosing to take a slow sip from his mug.

Asoelian's out of the loop, yes. Though Scay helps to fill in one of the hole's that are apparent in the conversation - at least on Asoelian's end, for the mention of a name draws a quick lift of her gaze up towards the other girl before she quickly reverts it back down to her food. The stablehand seems to then focus her attention on dividing her meal up into 'perfect' sections while keeping an ear open to the conversation.

"B'den," repeats R'hyn, his tone suggesting - not surprise, as such, but certainly interest. "I'm not sure if--" he breaks off, head shaking. "Well. Um. Yeah." His klah is a nice alternative, yet again.

Though she doesn't raise her head, Scay is plainly smirking as T'ren declares the correctness of her response. She looks at none of her companions until she's able to muster a straight face again, and then she turns hastily to Asoelian. "So, um," she begins awkwardly. "So how was your day?"

T'ren shifts in his seat and nods slowly at R'hyn, "Right, for the second time." He pauses and it's fairly obvious he's not quite all there at the moment, "Not sure if what, Weyrleader?" He gives a brief curse as he tries to clear his head a bit, "Sorry," he offers to his tablemates, "Still trying to get over the fellis."

Asoelian's gaze slides towards Scay as the other asks her a question, though given Asoelian's in the mist of chewing down a small portion of her meal, it takes her a moment longer to respond. "Long. Not quite over yet. Still need to muck out a few areas and check the fence. Likely even check the 'beasts to see if any are sick." Asoelian seems quite sure - or acts as though she's quite sure - that Scay truly wanted to hear that rather full report. Come the end of it, she smiles lightly before inclining her fork towards Scay, "How'd you fill your day out?" Genial enough in essence despite such fading into something more curious as she regards T'ren silently for his statement.

The embarrassment has yet to leave R'hyn entirely, and nor will it yet: he looks a little more embarrassed, as T'ren responds to him, though he doesn't flush again. "Sorry - I was just thinking aloud. I was just a little surprised; B'den doesn't usually use his fists on his, uh, superiors." Through the corner of his eye, he glances back at Asoelian and Scay, but he doesn't butt in.

"Oh, we understand, I'm sure," Scay offers airily, her mood lightened by T'ren's presence. Lest she seem too pleased, she glances again to Asoelian, nodding as though she cares. "Mine? Oh, it was okay," is her reply. "Not real busy, actually. Mostly dish-washin', same as always." She wrinkles her nose slightly.

Asoelian looks as though she's struggling to find something sufficient enough to offer Scay for her response, and it does indeed take her a moment longer than what would be considered normal before she's even able to offer a simple, "Oh.. well that's nice." Quietly given no less, for all that Asoelian's voice barely raises. Her gaze however, no longer seems locked on her food, for she occasionally glances at R'hyn and T'ren as they talk.

T'ren ahs a little at R'hyn's explaination and he starts to say something, but stops and turns to look at Scay carefully for a moment. A shrug is given and he turns back to R'hyn, "No need to be concerned, Weyrleader," a pause as he sips at his klah and then, "he's not likely to use them on you. This was a special set of circumstances I doubt you'd be able to match."

R'hyn pushes his mug away, listening intently to T'ren. "Oh, I'm not," he says quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, though his brow furrows curiously. "Um. Concerned, that is. I'll take your word for it." It's said slowly, and with no small amount of interest, though he doesn't press for details. Then again: when does he?

Scay nods. "Yep," she agrees mildly with Asoelian, before falling silent. All the better to eavesdrop, of course. Though she's not looking at either T'ren or R'hyn, she's plainly doing her best to overhear them: subtlety is not her strong suit. She raises one hand to her mouth and nibbles on a fingernail intently, trying to find something to occupy her hands.

T'ren gives a little nod as he listens to R'hyn, "Good," gets offered out slowly, "wouldn't want you to be worrying that you were next on the list or anything." Aso and Scay and watched for a moment and then he turns back to R'hyn as if just remembering something, "T'an. He's out and about. Looking for something to do."

Asoelian finishes up the remainder of her meal and is rather quick to place it all atop the plate. Empty mug, eating-ware and all. Come such she lifts upwards from her seat and takes the utensils into her hands before giving the table at large a small nod of her head before she turns and moves towards the serving table to deposit the used dinner ware in. Once it's settled in the bin, Asoelian heads for the outer bowl.

Asoelian heads through the tunnel to the bowl.

"No need for me to live in fear," says R'hyn, though there's a distinct lack of confidence in his voice; it's probably not hard to guess that he's a little intimidated by B'den. "T'an. Oh? And?" Twining his fingers together, he leans back in his seat, shoulders slumped and expression unreadable. He glances after Asoelian, but says nothing.

Scay blinks in surprise as Asoelian stands and exits without so much as a good-bye. "Um, bye," she mutters under her breath, looking briefly lost again as she's left with only T'ren and R'hyn for company. She glances at the pair, but still seems reluctant to actually participate in the conversatioh rather than just listening to it. Suddenly, her already bitten nails are fascinating.

T'ren gets confused by R'hyn's question, "And?" He screws up his face trying to see if he missed something along the way. Not coming up with anything he tries repeating himself, "He's looking for something to do." His mug is lifted and he moves to drink from it, pausing as he goes over that statement to make sure it actually does make sense.

"And regular wing duties aren't enough for him?" R'hyn sounds confused, and takes a long moment to peer at T'ren. "Sorry, I'm... not really sure." He glances back at Scay, his expression not really giving away much - except that he's confused.

Scay is an equal shareholder in the confusion marking the table as she finally glances blandly at T'ren and R'hyn. When she sees the Weyrleader looking at her, though, she's quick to deflect her gaze back to the far wall, staring at it until another idea hits her. She stands and heads for the serving table, returning to her seat shortly with a fresh mug of klah in hand. Only then does she remember some semblance of manners, blushing despite herself as she looks to the two men. "Y'all... didn't want anything, did you?" she queries hopefully.

T'ren sets his mug down and just stares at the weyrleader. The look on his face suggesting that maybe R'hyn has sprouted another head or something, "He can't do regular wing duties." He speaks slowly for the weyrleader's benefit, "He was just released from the infirmary. He's not walking, she's not flying?" Voice trails off as he turns to shake his head at Scay, "No, thank you." Manners, woo.

R'hyn turns pale with comprehension, and hastily distracts himself for a moment. "Er-- more klah, thanks?" It takes him a while to meet T'ren's eyes again, and he sighs. "Of course, of course. I'm sorry - I'm tired. I wasn't thinking. T'an, yes. Um. He needs something to do on the ground, then. Perhaps Orilee needs another assistant - or maybe even just B'myr, for the moment."

"Oh, okay," Scay says, peering at R'hyn a moment, her expression similar to T'ren's. Wordlessly, she sets her mug of klah down on the table to mark her place, then shuffles back to the serving table to procure an identical one for the Weyrleader. Soon enough, she returns, setting it down and sliding it hesitantly over to him before sitting down in her chair, tucking one leg under her. She sips slowly at the hot liquid, glancing over at R'hyn as though to make sure he's properly appreciative of the effort she put into getting that drink for him.

T'ren picks up his mug and pushes away from the table. He stands and, "I'll let him know he can assiste with the candidates then." He gives his head a slow shake and grumbles, "If you'll excuse me I think I'm going to get some air." He sets the mug back on the table without finishing it's contents and starts towards the bowl.

"Ye--" R'hyn breaks off without concluding any kind of farewell, and flushes scarlet. "Thanks," he mutters beneath his breath, head shaking, his eyes seeking out the hearth glumly. Then, again, this time probably towards Scay: "Thanks."

T'ren heads through the tunnel to the bowl.

"Oh, um. Good-bye," Scay offers T'ren as he departs. She takes a deep sip of her klah, studying the spot where the Weyrsecond was earlier seated while she shifts her position slightly. "You're welcome," she tells R'hyn, sounding pleased. She then falls silent, resuming biting her lip and nails in alternating bursts.

R'hyn shifts his gaze to stare into his klah moodily, and in silence. Finally, he wonders, "Have we met? I don't recall. Then again," there's a note of bitterness in his voice, "I probably wouldn't remember, even if we had."

"We haven't," Scay affirms confidently, shaking her head and pushing back strands of hair that slip free with the motion. "I'd remember." She pauses, as though running over just how that sounded in her mind. She hides her grimace behind her glass, then notes, more shyly, "I'm Scay."

R'hyn glances up, and manages a bit of a smile, if somewhat muted. "Hi, Scay," he says, quietly. "And, of course, you know me." That bitterness is there, again - though his smile doesn't waver. "What do you do around here?"

"Of course," Scay drawls, nodding. "I think everyone does." She's probably not being comforting, but she passes over that fact easily enough, explaining, "Different stuff, really. Lots of dish-washing, because that's easy -- if excruciatingly disgusting. All that food that Faranth-knows-who's been eating..." She trails off, pulling a face quickly, then reddening a bit at this gesture.

"I should ask, before we have a real conversation," says R'hyn, a little jaded, "are you one of the people who hates me automatically, or are you just irritated with my presence? Because it's okay - I just want to know before I stick my foot in it." He picks up his mug again, though he doesn't sip. "Ah. Yes. That is disgusting. I'm sorry."

Scay blinks, staring blankly at R'hyn. "Um..." she falters. "Is there even a right answer to that?" is added aloud, though she doesn't look like she meant that thought to escape her head. "Well... I don't /hate/ you automatically," she tries to explain, looking uncertain. "I just... Very disgusting. But I guess someone has to do it, right?" Her joke is feeble, as is her smile, as she tries to change the subject alarmingly quickly.

R'hyn hesitates, before responding, as if debating between dragging the topic back, or going with the change. Flushed, he takes the latter course: "I suppose so. Just... glad it's not me, which isn't very useful for you, I guess. Um."

"Yeah, wish it wasn't me, either," Scay notes wryly, shrugging. "But I do other stuff, too," she adds, forcefully light. "Like...well, sewing. Except I'm really slow because I'm methodical and everything has to be just perfect, and I end up poking myself with the needle, too. Hmm." That didn't come out right. To try to salvage some of her dignity, she takes a big, unladylike gulp of klah.

R'hyn gives Scay a long, curious glance, though he manages a hesitant smile. "Ah. And you're... just happy, doing this? I just... it seems very unambitious. And now you /are/ going to hate me, because I criticised your life choices, right? I really need to shut up tonight."

Scay glances sideways at R'hyn, smiling crookedly despite herself. "Nah. I hate it sometimes, too," she admits, ducking her head slightly. "I'd say I'm unambitious, but I think it's more that I'm indecisive. I could never decide on just one thing to do with my life, and I just kind of got stuck doing this by default. So I do it, and, well. I guess not everybody can be Weyrleader or Weyrwoman." Her smile is a bit forced, as though she's afraid that comment might have been too much.

R'hyn expresses visible relief upon his face, but bobs his head. "I was unambitious," he notes, in a soft voice. "But my Mother made sure I didn't stray from-- well. What she wanted." With a little laugh, not particularly mirthful, he remarks, "And thank goodness for that. At least you have a choice."

Scay snorts skeptically at R'hyn's words, rolling her shoulders slightly. "My mom always wanted me to go on and do great things -- all my family did, actually. But I didn't, and somehow I doubt I will by now," she notes, not sounding particularly bothered. "I guess I was lucky, because even though they all had their special little things they wanted me to do, they let me pick." She pauses, glancing away from the bronzerider before admitting quietly, "Sometimes I think it might have worked out better if they had just told me what I was going to do with my life, though."

"So long as you're happy?" suggests R'hyn, uncertainly, though he nods. "I don't know. Mother wanted me to be a Harper, and I was-- but I hated it. It's far better to find something you enjoy than to do what someone else thinks would be good for you, or what you're good at, if it brings you no real happiness."

Scay eyes R'hyn, brows arching at this sudden burst of wisdom. "Yeah, my parents both said I could do that. Not the singing, or the teaching, either, but I like doing records and things. And if I actually wanted to, I could've probably learned to play an instrument. I just didn't have any interest in it," she explains.

R'hyn, his head tilted to the side, wonders curiously, "And what do you have an interest in? I mean - there's got to be things you like, right?"

Scay frowns warily at this sudden interest, leaning back in her chair away from the man. "Um, well," she falters for an answer. A drink of klah wets her lips again, and she volunteers hesitantly, "Well, the best thing I've tried is actually helping to keep the records, like I said. That's interesting, mostly. Not always. Inventory?" She makes a noise to express her low opinion of that particular task.

R'hyn only seems to remember his klah, which is still held in his hand, as Scay sips at hers, and hastily takes another gulp of his. "You haven't thought to get yourself a position there?" he wonders, surprised. "I know they have dedicated staff, and-- well. I don't know. I doubt you'd need special training, or anything."

"It just... always seemed easier to stick with what I was already doing," Scay admits, staring dully into her klah rather than at R'hyn. "And it's not so bad. I've helped out a few times, like when they get too understaffed or something. That's how I know I like it, after all." She forces a smile as she looks back up at him.

R'hyn rolls his eyes, head shaking. "I'm sure I'm not really the kind of person you want to take advice from, but... If you don't really like what you're doing, it's not that hard to change. We may as well all /try/ and do something we enjoy." Apparently well aware of the hypocrisy of his words, R'hyn ducks his head, adding in a mumble, "Those of us who can, anyway."

Scay gives R'hyn a long, faintly amused look, smile losing its forced edge. "Ah, well. Maybe I'll look into it," she tells him at length, shrugging. She takes another sip of her klah, then stands. "It's gettin' late," she notes, vaguely apologetic. "I should probably go."

R'hyn flushes a little, as he adds, "Sorry. I shouldn't push, or anything. Um. -- Sure. I should, too. Nice meeting you."

"Oh, um. You're not," Scay is quick to reassure R'hyn, though she wears an old expression. "Good night," she adds after a moment. She quickly scurries off, glancing back once at the man before disappearing into the lower caverns.

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