Living Caverns

Brightly lit by a regimented march of strung glow-globes, Igen's busy living caverns are cut of the same exotic limestone design that frequents the bazaar without. Tapestries line the tops of the walls, one for each of Igen's wings, past and present; beneath them, skybroom tables litter the floors in scattered profusion. Some of the wicker chairs have seen better days, but most of the worst offenders have long-ago been replaced. The seemingly random placement of furniture, however, at closer inspection yields a sort of cross-shape of negative space. The northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns are owned by the kitchen's buffet, food-laden thrice daily in regimented shifts by busy bakers from the curtained southern entrance to the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside; westerly lies the large doors leading down into the bowels of the Weyr itself.

The great outdoors isn't always so great for everyone, so when the Weyr decided to throw a massive party to end the T-Tourney, both the lake shore AND the living caverns were commandeered for the festivities. The sun has set and crowds of people and dragons both mingle around the lake and the grill pits set outside. Inside, things are a bit calmer and controlled. A couple of harpers are tucked in a corner playing their guitars and drudges are currently making rounds with plates full of all sorts of finger foods. Tables have been pushed away to make room for dancing later. For right now? Magdaline is currently staring at one of the banners hanging on the wall with her head tilted to the side. "You? Do you think that looks straight?" Sure, she has another helper right next to her, but the assistant headwoman instead beckons a third opinion from whoever might be near enough to be waylaid.

Several T-Tourney wins and other placings have left Th'bek with a lot of praise and free drinks. Not normally possessing a ravenous ego, he nonetheless soaks it in. Tavuqth is slightly more arrogant about it, as he did most of the physical work. Day two of celebrations have made the brownrider a little more appreciative of quiet, but then he'll be back in the thick of the fray in no time. The living caverns are just a breather. "A little too left of center, my left, but with all of the good stuff at ground level, no one will notice." F'dan's scion has a neutral sort of expression but his sanguine baritone is able to carry on a good-natured legacy. "You and the lower caverns staff outdid yourselves. I think I need bigger flight leathers after these past two days."

"Good strategy," even if Magdaline didn't craft it herself, she might use that excuse if anybody asks. "I think we probably have enough wine trays floating around here to distract anybody." As if right on cue, one of the servers come through with a tray full of red wine. She claims one herself and gives a dismissive wave of her hand for the compliments. "Organization is what we do. Although there is danger in being too good. For the next several sevens we'll probably here 'why can't we have that so and so… it was served at the party!'. But I'll make sure there are plenty of salad fixings on the menu come tomorrow." And maybe some greasy hangover food as well.

Drawing in a breath and holding it in, the brownrider slaps his palms against his chest just under the ribs. Then the breath releases and he groans, seeing some warm bread leave the kitchen for immediate dispersal. "The bread got me," wine he'll drink, but it's a little too fancy for someone who subsists on cheap suds. "Salad?" Th'bek looks piteously at the assistant headwoman like she's leaving her dog out for the night. "If we're eating weeds tomorrow, I'd better have my bread now." And he rips off an end piece to chew on without even butter. Lowering his voice just slightly, "our stores could handle all this after the hatching feast? C'mon, you can tell me."

Magdaline is used to folks looking piteously at her when vegetables are mentioned. She's raised several children after all. "Salad. It's the green stuff." There's a bit of a smile to soften that and although she doesn't partake of the bread herself, the smile grows a bit as the smell wafts over to her. "Ahhh. I think that was the bacon cheesy knots Marlen was going on about." The cook probably had a different name for his grand creation, but she's going with the descriptive terms. As for the last question, she raises her eyebrow just a bit. "What do you think, rider? Would we really allow all this…" There's a hand waved towards the decorations, the food, the booze, "If it would just put us on tight rations come winter? We might throw one or two less smaller gathers through the turn… but yes. Our stores are adequate." There was a budget and everything!

Th'bek has to search hard for some plain water to pair with the bread, but he hadn't needed to go far for half a glass. "Whatever it is, it's delicious," and just like that, gone. Having no real basis to doubt the lower caverns' stores, Rev nods his head multiple times as a tanner journeyman approaches them both. "So long as salad doesn't become a staple, a glass hovers just over a grin as he drinks when the journeyman peers into Th'bek's glass once lowered. "You're drinking water? Please tell me it's because the ale and beer are all gone. You droll brownrider, you." Th'bek laughs once at Krias, "I'm just biding my time, don't you worry. That just means more temporarily for you." The journeyman playfully rolls his eyes at Magdaline then escapes to the outdoors. "Look, if you have more," Th'bek throws a few fingers in the air, "banners to hang, don't let me stop you ma'am."

"Banners to hang. Bread to plate. Always something more to do! Don't let me keep you from your evening, Rider. Journeyman." And with a smile and a nod, Magdaline will take her wine glass and go off to find the next thing that needs sorting. And eventually after all the mess is done, perhaps even relax herself. But yes, there will definitely be salad on the menu for the next month, although plenty of wherry and caprine to go along with it.