==== September 29, 2013
==== Aaron, Kapia, Kultir, Nevelyn, Sytin, Yulena
==== On a quiet afternoon, a candidate tries to remake a robe, and Kapia comes to chat.

Who Aaron, Kapia, Kultir, Nevelyn, Sytin, Yulena
What A quiet Spring afternoon passes with Yulena trying to sew, and Kapia trying to make sense of Southern Weyr. Good luck!
When One Turn, one month, and nine days to the 12th Pass
Where Southern Weyr - The Nighthearth

nevelyn.jpg Sytin-Young_Icon.jpg Yulena2.jpg


The Nighthearth
A comfortable nook, this natural extension of the living room is cozily attired with overstuffed chairs and a couple of well-worn loveseats. All have been covered in various shades of green, giving the very incongruous appeal of a miniature forest hidden away inside… a grove of man-made proportion. Fish stews and spicy white-wherry chili are often kept hot on the minor hearths east and west of the main, for those whose hours defy when meals are kept. Ornate, the largest hearth towers high, rich with carving and utilitarian in fashion: it holds court by providing the weyr with rich klah, the air thick with the scent of cinnamon wafting.

It's already been a few days after the rumours of skeletons behind walls in the Weyr started, but despite the warm, humid spring promising life and growth, Yulena is still content to sit, tucking her large frame into a large, wing-armed chair. The little table next to her has a steaming mug of klah on it, and held very close in Yulena's lap, is a cloth the obsequious colour of Candidacy world-wide: pure freakin' white. A needle is indelicately clenched between thumb and index finger and Yulena's grasping the cloth like it's trying to hold out on secrets she must know.

As if Kapia didn't have enough going on to make her skittish and uncertain, now she's got lurking skeletons to deal with. She makes her way in with a bit of a worried frown on her face, eyes sweeping over the tables before she spots the familiar face of Yulena. She quickly adopts a friendly smile, waving a bit as she approaches. "Hey there. Working on your robe?" Master of the obvious.

Yulena's concentration is so fierce that she doesn't notice Kapia coming in. And the needle is slowly pushing in through the fabric… avoid the thumb, avoooid the thumb… Kapia's greeting is replied with a sharp 'ouch!' and Yulena's thumb disappears into her mouth as she looks up, the cross line of her brow de-wrinkling a little as she notes that it's Klah-pal Kapia. "Hi there. And yes… Um. Again." A little shrug and Yulena examines the square of white where the needle still shows, for any trace of red ouchy-proof. A sigh of relief as there proves to be none: "I'll sure be glad when I'm done the thing." Time for a klah break! "How are you doing?"

Kapia winces sympathetically. "Sorry…" She says with an apologetic smile, taking a seat. "Do you, uhm, need some help? I know how to sew. I mean, kind of." Such confidence. "I'm doing okay. Still getting used to everything here. A lot of it is confusing. But I've managed not to make any platforms collapse." Apparently she believes that counts as an accomplishment around here.

The white fabric is folded and set very carefully aside, the needle still stuck in it (and whoa, won't that be a problem soon); the better to enjoy her klah over. "The Candidates have to make our own robes, but thank you for the offer. I think it's some ritual or rite of passage or something. And we can't use the same one that we had at a previous Hatching either." Yulena sighs and shakes her head at the lengths of fabric a Weyr must go through… The idea that this is confusing? Pah! "Confusing, how? Like, who does what, or how things get done?" Yulena was once in that position too, so perhaps she can tell some secrets. Sluuuuurp. Kl-Ahhhhhhh. :)

The klah looks so tasty that Kapia can't help but be tempted to have a little herself. "Excuse me." She hops up to obtain her own mug, then quickly retakes her seat and has a little sip. More smiling. "Ah." Then she finally gets around to asking questions, as invited. "Well, uhm… I guess it's more to do with the customs here? Like… what is and isn't appropriate to do? Sometimes I can't tell if people are acting normal for weyrs, or if they're just… odd."

Yes, yes, go get klah… Yulena will wait. And now that both she and Kapia are en-klahed, Yulie stretches out in her chair, and then leans back. "Well… They're acting normal for a Weyr, which is kind of by definition, odd." Yulena breaks it down, Weyr-style: "Welllll, with some exceptions, but they're just odder than usual." No names are dropped… at this juncture. A moment to consider and wet one's whistle with klah, "Also, we keep finding bodies, so that's got some people on edge. And the Candidates are sleeping pretty badly, though no one's run off screaming yet!" Yulie sounds hopeful; that's a good sign, right?

Kapia seems troubled by this assertion. She scratches at her head as she has another sip of klah, gathering her thoughts. "Really? So, uhm… the ordering women to serve them drinks, the running around naked, the not knowing what things like 'sisters' and 'beaches' are… that's all normal stuff?" She seems very perplexed as she drinks more.

Oh. Those social issues. "Wellllll," and maybe Yulena's gonna philosophize a little, "The ordering women to serve you drinks? Ignore them," she instructs, "I don't know who on Pern thinks that would be a good idea," especially to the creator of klah spice, known to cause dietary disturbances if consumed in great quantities, "Because then you could just ruin the drink, and make them redo it themselves." Eloquent shrug. "Unless it's the Weyrleader. He sort of gets a pass. And the running around naked? Unusual, I grant you, but at least we have the weather for it." Since no one's going to catch their death of cold at Southern, Yulena gives that one a casual shrug too, but then Yulena looks puzzled, "How do yo… who wouldn't know what a sister or a beach is? Well, except for Dimitri, but he's…" Thoughtful pause, slurp of klah. Another slurp of klah, "Unique." By now, the Candidate's leaning forward in her chair, eyes focussed on Kapia. Do tell.

Kapia sets down her mug of klah to wring her hands, her little habit that tends to surface when she's nervous or uncertain. "Well, he wasn't the weyrleader. The weyrleader… he… uhm… scares me." She admits with a little bit of a blush. "And… I don't know. I thought that was weird. It was this boy, Daren. He seemed nice, but really… unsure about a lot of things. I don't know."

Yulena uses her klah-free hand to shoo away the very idea of being told to get ANYONE (BUT THE WEYRLEADER) a drink, "Then ignore him. Sounds like he'll trip over his own mouth sometime." And that's totally not an evil little grin at the edge of Yulena's lips. The question of Daren raises both eyebrows, though, "Daren? Huh, I don't know if I've rightly heard of him. Perhaps," and just perhaps, "he's one of those mountain kids who wants to learn at Southern, you know; maybe he has a different word for things." Like some people refer to klah as 'that hot delicious stuff that cook can't stop guzzling'.

Kapia considers the answers given as she has another sip of her klah. "… Actually, this girl punched him in the face. I think she knocked one of his teeth out. It ruined my old clothes." She pouts a little, then drinks more. "… You're probably right. I guess I just need to get into the swing of things here. Though I've been following your advice and trying to stay as dressed as possible."

Yulena chortles at the news: "Good. D'you remember their names at all? Were they riders?" Ohhh yeah, Yulena's expression says, remembering their last conversation. As for whether Yulena's right or not… Hah. Nothing need be answered there: "Weyr life does take some getting used to. The riders are different because they have their dragons talking to them, and their dragons are unique personalities too…" For a moment, her expression darkens and she tries to hide the pressing of her lips by bringing up her mug. Tension? Nothing to see here. "Sorry, did you say you were from a Hold before?"

Kapia taps her chin with a finger as the tries to remember. "Uhm… the boy who got hit said his name was Ez'iah… and I think the girl who hit him said she was named Alyei. I think. It was al pretty scary." She shakes her head quickly. "No, I was a trader before. My family and I mostly worked in holds, though. It was pretty different."

Ez'iah, huh? Yulena shrugs a little, "All I know of him is he's a Weyrling, to a bronze or something." Perhaps somewhere in the Weyr, a young man's ears are burning. Whatever. "Well, maybe he'll learn not to do things like that." AHAHAHAHA, chances are, definitely not. "A trader, huh? Never had a lot to do with traders… except cook for 'em." There's no bitterness or heat there, so presumably, the traders liked Yulena's feasts well enough. "Why'd you settle here?" Sure there's an easier way to these questions, but this way's faster, so Yulena's going to use it. Inquiring minds want to know.

The question, direct as it is, seems to give Kapia pause. She looks down at the table, taking another sip of klah and hesitating before she gives her answer. "… I come from a big family. All girls. I have six sisters, all older than me." She runs her fingertip along the rim of the mug of klah. "… Older, more talented, prettier… one of them will inherit the caravan and the business someday. The others will all get married to boys from the other caravans. Or they've apprenticed. Or… something. As long as I was there, I was just going to… fade into the background. I didn't want that."

A reasonable reason, according to Yulena's nod, "I have three Farming brothers. I kind of know how that is." Her own mug is becoming disappointedly empty so it gets set down, and Yulena's hands become tangled up in her lap. "So you're here now. It's a very exciting time here at Southern Weyr," she tells Kapia (as if that's not evident). "Have you had talked with Renalde? I just heard they need more hands in the Kitchens…"

Kapia is swiftly reaching the end of her own mug. "… Do you want me to get us more?" She offers with a smile, attempting to be helpful. The mention of Renalde earns a shake of her head. "No. I've tried. But he's always either busy or not in his office. I really need to. I need a job… though, uhm, my cooking isn't the best…"

Yulena shakes her head mournfully, "No, but thanks… I shouldn't even be drinking klah around this white fabric." One finger pokes the offending candidate 'robe'…to-be. "The last time I worked on it, I spilled klah all over myself." The idea that Renalde is not omnipresent gets a little snort, "Oh, he'll be around, don't worry. And there are other jobs in the kitchen than actual cooking." Is Yulena getting enthusiastic about kitchen chores? "There's chopping, and cleaning, and packing… and taking stock…" Either she's run out of fun little chores to do, or Yulena's off in her own reminiscing of the kitchen, "Just don't, whatever you do, offer to be a taste-tester." Slow, sad shake of her head to follow.

It's midday on another hot, humid Southern day. Kapia is fidgeting, wringing her hands again. "I'll keep that in mind. I guess stocktaking wouldn't be so bad. I'm pretty good with with charts and numbers and stuff like that."

Yulena sits, empty hands knotted in her lap until she slowly untwines them, taking care as she sits back to not rest on a lump of white cloth next to her. She listens to Kapia with an absent look for a moment and then says, "Just… If you see a room with a lot of stuff in it…" And her eyes gleam with either anticipation or dread, "Let Renalde know first, if he does put you on stock-taking. That'll be good. Prevents surprises." An affirmative nod and then, "You been to see the Sands lately?"

"Yeah." Kapia answers with a little nod. "Just the other day. The eggs are so pretty. They're really… I don't even know the right word for it." She downs the very last of her klah, pushing the mug away and looking over at Yulena. "I'm not going to mess with anything unless I'm told to."

Enter Sytin. Candidate. Smith. Brother. Friend. Oh, and firelizard wrangler. Or are they wrangling him? The blue sits on his head seeming to watch in amusement as the boy tries to quiet the creeling bronze tucked in his sling only to get his finger bitten. "Oh! Faranth! Gimme just a—! Ow!" More creeling as the boy quickly scurries toward the kitchen, begging for scraps. Bowl is soon acquired and gobbets of the raw meat is promptly substituted for the finger that the hatchling is trying to gnaw off. "There, you wherry headed ninny!" Looks like the bronze got him good to boot, causing the boy to continue cursing under his breath as he makes his way over to someplace quiet. The nook of the Nighthearth is spied and the boy makes a beeline for it, setting the bowl of meat down on the table though he keeps stuffing Tischler's maw with the stuff, now sucking on his bleeding digit. "Hi," he greets around a mouthful of his own flesh, looking a mite sheepish.

Yulena grins a little and nods, "They're pretty interesting, that's true." Especially if you happen to touch one. Her brain is still ringing. "Well, not messing with things is certainly a good policy," though you find fewer bodies that way, but Yulena agrees, "At least, not until the Headman says so." The creeling of a little firelizard is really hard to miss, so Yulena's already looking up as Sytin enters, "Hi, Sytin," she says. Oh look, he's already on his way here! "Nasty, aren't they? At least when they're new." A sleepy protest can be heard from … inside Yulena's hair? Magrat resembles that remark…

"Yeah. I keep worrying that I'm going to…" Whatever thought Kapia was about to articulate gets cut off by the arrival of Sytin and his bleeding finger. She looks disproportionately alarmed. "Oh, no… are you okay? Do you need me to get you a bandage or something?"

"'E's only foll'in' 'is instinc's," Sytin mouths around his finger, sounding muffled. More meat into the tiny bronze, never-ending hole that he is. Finger is pulled out of his mouth and examined, the bleeding seeming to have lessened somewhat. "He'll grow out of it soon enough." Amber eyes roll to peer up at Zhiros, still perched on his head. "This one did." The blue chirrs a chipper note, looking pleased. "I'm fine, Kapia." A wry grin slides over his lips. "Besides, he's done worse." Bronze opens his mouth to protest the sudden stop of food and the Candidate promptly shoves more in. "If I got a bandage for every nick, cut or nip this fellow gave me the Weyr would be out in a sevenday!" It's a joke, mostly!

Yulena snorts slightly at the little bronze. "I'm not sure they actually grow out of it," she says casually, despite a little gold tail tickling around her ear. Magrat, it seems, is listening. "I think they just start learning to hunt elsewhere, behind our backs. Or they just start drinking klah." Which is really the only explanation for why Yulena's cup ever goes empty: there's no way she drank it all. "Good luck with that one, though. Looks demanding." A little sigh and Yulena untangles herself to get to her feet, seizing the white fabric next to her. And…. yup, Yulena as stabbed herself with the needle that she left amidst the folds of it. "Shards!" she yelps, and starts a long line of curses, glaring at the small dribbles of red glaring brilliantly against the fabric. "If you'll excuse me," and it's likely from her pause that Yulena was going to do something totally different, "I have to get some more fabric. Or cleaner. Lots and lots of cleaner." Another grumble and Yulena makes her way out.

There is the sound of stamping footsteps, hard-heeled boots seeming like they are trying to kick holes in the stone flagging of the cavern floor as Kultir enters. His face is a complete blank, for once, but his eyes reflect a fury the boy hasn't been in since he'd been asked to Stand though only those who know him well will recognize it. Without bothering to look around him, the teen grabs a plate and fills it with a few items from the ones on offer along with a mug of klah. Once food and drink has been acquired the boy retreats to the quiet corner around the nighthearth and plops into a chair without a 'Hello' or a 'By your leave'. He tears into the food with a savagery similar to the little bronzes, like to take someone's head off if they ask the wrong question.

"OH! Uhm. Bye, Yulena." Kapia says a little sadly, lifting her hand to wave goodbye before her attention is back completely on Sytin. "But you're bleeding. You should at least clean it out. You don't want it to get in… oh." And there' Kultir, stomping in and savagely devouring food. Kapia looks concerned. "… Hi?"

The bronze's creels are slowly tapering off as his belly distends with the meat being stuffed into his maw, giving Sytin a chance to breath rather than continue the delivery train. Just in time to offer Yulena a grin as she suggests they don't grow out of it. "Maybe. Mine are still growing. I'll have to get back to you." The meat in his fingers gets ignored, the bronze finally stuffed into a stupor and earning a sigh of relief from the Candidate. "I can't decide whether I should be grateful he disrupted that awful lesson or annoyed at the interruption." This is said to no one in particular but Yulena gets a grin as she goes to leave. "Hey, save some fabric for the rest of us!" he teases and then she's gone. And then there is suddenly Kultir. Angry, stomping, snarling Kultir. Oh my. "Saliva is a great disinfectant." Or so he's been lead to believe. Now, there's this Candidate who is earning the fish eye from the youth. "What's eating your innards?" Tactful and delicate as always, Sytin.

Kultir continues ripping into his food, a good thing it's all meatrolls and such instead of something requiring utensils since the boy probably would have bent a fork or spoon in half the minute he picked it up. The two who speak to him get a quick flash of blazing amber eyes and a grunt of greeting goes to Kapia with a short nod. He doesn't want to frighten her, but … he's having trouble controlling himself at the moment. The teen has apparently been reduced to monosyllables by his anger since Sytin only gets a growled, "Berdin." before the older boy is back to his meatrolls, growling like a dog over a meaty bone.

Suddenly, the doorway into the nighthearth is blocked, nearly completely, by the bulk of the Weyrsmith. Looking over the tableau before him, Sytin and Kapia get a curt nod, and then his eyes lock onto the poor, hapless Kultir. Not really caring if the boy's already angry, Aaron opens his mouth, and out comes, if not a roar, then at least a tidal wave of discontent. "Candidate Kultir! You and I, boy, we've got a problem. What in Faranth's name is wrong with you?!"

Kapia doesn't like conflict and anger. She doesn't like it one bit. She shrinks down in her seat, hesistant to even voice anything. But she'd be kicking herself if she didn't make some attempt to defuse the situation. "Uhm… uhm… please calm down…" She squeaks out quietly, probably scarcely even heard.

Fish eye turns into a scowl at the mention of that ill borne scamp. Even Sytin only has a grunt in response for that at first, though from his expression he might be contemplating Bad Things to occur later. Whatever else he might have said to try and encourage or cheer Kultir is lost as suddenly Aaron is looming and booming before them, like Uriel. Ulp. Gaze turns to Kultir, then Aaron, then back to Kultir and finally to Kapia as she shrinks away from the conflict like a tunnelsnake. Unfortunately damsel in distress wins out over best friend and Sytin scoots around the table to beside Kapia, gentle hand suddenly on her shoulder. "Hey."

Kultir's head lifts slowly to fix his furious gaze on the big Smith, unable to muster up more than a little respect for anyone at the moment. "What problem?" he grates out, adding as an afterthought. "Sir?" Unfortunately, the lack of respect is quite evident in his tone. He's mad at the world right now and doesn't care who knows. "Apparently … there ain't nothin' wrong wi' me a good beatin' won' fix." His gaze returns to his plate, unknowing or uncaring that this is most likely the wrong tack to take with the man that stands blocking that rather large doorway at the moment.

Aaron swings around to Kapia, a thick finger pointing in her direction. "You, young lady, will hold your tongue until you're spoken too," he says, voice rumbling deep through grated teeth. Sytin gets an EYE, but since he's not trying to talk over Aaron, is let off with that warning. Swinging back to Kultir, he just… growls. "I have to find out from your bloody weyrmate that you have an allergy to fellis?! That you could've died?!" The Smith pauses, making a /very/ visible effort to not close the gap between himself and the candidate when Kultir goes back to eating. "Not only would you be dead, but then I'D have the blame for it laid on me?! What the flying FUCK were you thinking, boy?!"

Kapia looks momentarily relieved by Sytin's presence, giving the boy a quick glance that is worried, but definitely grateful. The moment of calm passes quickly when Aaron yells at her. She looks increasingly panicked and shrinks down further in her seat.

The fellow Candidate's lack of respect for the towering figure that is the Weyrsmith is met with a dismayed grimace from Sytin, who, despite all his flaws, has developed enough common sense to not interrupt Aaron. Or maybe he's simply too busy trying to soothe the frazzled teenager with his winsome ways before she has a panic attack? If nothing else the former Smith is shocked to learn of Kultir's allergy and even more so the severity of it, causing his jaw to drop into a momentary gape. It works noiselessly for a moment and then he finally manages to pick it up off the proverbial floor and turns to Kapia instead as she shrinks even further away. "'e's jes a big 'erdbeast," the youth whispers to the girl in an attempt to soothe her.

Kultir winces violently at the Weyrsmith's mention of Kalea and springs to his feet, plate and mug crashing to the floor as he assumes an unconscious fighting stance. "She ain't m' weyrmate!" he yells at the big man, tears springing to blazing amber eyes. "They made sure o' that when they stuck this flaming knot on me!" He grabs the offending white knot and yanks on it but doesn't take it off, remembering what that would signify and refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of making him quit. "An' th' Healers know'd I was allergic! They changed it right quick this mornin' anyway! Bes night o' sleep I got since gettin' stuck in them Barracks!" He doesn't mention the headache he'd had this morning, nor the dizzy spell he'd had at morning exercise since someone else had noticed and chewed his tail for him for shirking.

Kapia and Sytin? Forgotten. Totally forgotten in this moment. Taking a step forward, Aaron moves towards Kultir, joints popping as his hands curl into huge fists for just a moment before they slowly relax. "SHE still seems to think otherwise, /boy/. She's pining for you just as bad as you are for her. Now put your ass back in that chair before you do something you'll regret." The words might be, maybe, seen as a little conciliatory, but they're delivered in a slow, careful cadence from the looming Smith. "You should have told them last night, Candidate. You should have told me. And I know you had a headache this morning, just like I know you're not the type to shirk you're duties. Do you think I can't talk to people or something? Faranth's Egg, boy! What kind of a rider do you think you'll make if you can't even take care of your/self/?" Oh yes, someone's pissed, though rightfully so it seems.

Kapia doesn't like this one bit. She bites her lip and looks at Sytin, uncertain. Then she looks at the door. Perhaps she's pondering making a break for it. But for whatever reason, she doesn't yet. She just watches, silently terrified.

Sytin's jaw clenches as Kultir spins about to face the gargantuan Journeyman, body screaming defiance in the face of the accusations being levied. Throat bobs in a swallow as the knot almost comes free and the boy is utterly transfixed, clearly surprised at the vehemence or sheer stupidity the fellow Candidate is demonstrating. "Kultir…" he begins, trying to warn his friend off from the rocky shoals the proverbial keel is being steered into. Whatever else he might have added is drowned by the booming vocals of Aaron, drilling down into his eardrums like hammers. Ow. Kapia. His gaze moves back to her and his shoulders straighten from their unconscious slouch, the Candidate doing his best to look courageous and competent. "Just stay out of his way." Perhaps this boy has a little experience in dealing with the molten core of his former mentor? Or he's simply too stunned by the confrontation occurring before him, best friend and mentor verbally dueling it out.

Kultir braces himself as the big man steps toward him, even at the distance between them looming like a thundering mountain over the somewhat shorter and less bulky boy. At the words, the boy can't help the sob that wracks him causing his chin to quiver and the tears to spill over onto his cheeks. One hand creeps out from his side to flick toward the bowl as words are forced out between stiff lips, "I can't even cla …" The words are bitten off as his lip is clenched between his teeth, refusing to let any more of that thought slip. Despite the order, the boy stubbornly remains on his feet, fists clenching once more. "I figgered them decidin' I needed it 'stead of the teas they give me this mornin' … They's Healers! An' I do take care o' m'self! I do m' work, I go t' m' lessons, I keep m'self fr'm knockin' th' shit outta somma them kids as deserve it … what d' I git in r'turn? Yelled at, nose rubbed in how ignorant I be, told I cain't be friends wit' certain people …" The sobs he's been holding back since that first one manage to escape as soon as the boy stops yelling, though his voice has been slowly growing softer and thicker as the anger fades and the emotional upheaval he's been dealing with exerts itself once more. He clenches his teeth and forces those sobs back down and just glares at the Weyrsmith.

Aaron stares, just stares at Kultir for a moment, then lets out a soft sigh, the tension leaving his arms visible even through the long sleeves. "Kultir… You didn't tell me you were allergic, and I practically ordered you to take it. When Kalea told me you were allergic… Shard it, boy, I spent half my day trying to track you down, worried that I'd managed to get you killed." He sighs again, shaking his head at the mess on the floor. "Sit down. I'll get someone to clean this up, and bring you some more food. I know you're having a rough time of it. I'm not mad, boy, you just had me worried sick." There's a pause, and he turns back to Kapia. "I'm sorry I yelled, Kapia. I deeply regret that you two were here to witness that. I really try not to lose my temper like that in public."

Kapia looks down at the table. She wrings her hands, obviously still nervous and shaken, her legs fidgeting under the table. She murmurs something, possibly "It's okay." But she's being much too quiet to be heard clearly, even by Sytin.

Kultir's words tumble over Sytin like a flood, causing his jaw to clamp down harder and harder until there is suddenly a metallic taste in his mouth and pain catches up with the other sensations roiling in the youth's gut. Nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath, finally letting up on his now hemorrhaging tongue and swallowing the fluids away. Left hand unclenches, having been balled at his side and now sporting oozing nicks that he quickly hides, giving Kapia a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, though the haze of his senses cause him to miss her words. Emotionally distressed though she may be, his forte is rescuing them from danger, not their hormonal miasma. Legs are moving before the Candidate is fully aware of his course, taking him over to behind Kultir and reaching up to grab the elder by the shoulders and forcibly haul him back into his seat. Apparently all those chores are putting some wiry muscle on the lean frame after all. "Would you sit down, shut up, and listen for once, Kul?" he begs around a thick, benumbed tongue, tossing Aaron a pleading look for just a moment as he continues to hold onto the larger Candidate's shoulders for all he's worth. Please stop the amber eyes beg of his mentor.

The fight goes out of the boy as soon as the big man relaxes and speaks gently to him, at least gently for Aaron that is. "Ye didn't need t' go to that trouble … sir." he says thickly, respect for the big man tinging his tone now. He really does admire the man and wishes he could have a relationship similar to his friend's with this man, but that's impossible. He glances at the mess he's made and sighs heavily and begins to stoop to pick it all up when he feels someone grab his shoulders to force him back into his seat. His breath woofs out of him and snaps his head back over the back of the chair, his gaze going to Sytin as soon as he's able to control his instinctive attempt to fight his way out of the other's grasp. He looks up at his friend through the tears that won't stop even though the sobs have been silenced. He swallows hard and glances from Sytin to Aaron to Kapia, who he'd forgotten was even there.

Impossible? Says who? Aaron's damn friendly until someone gives him reason not to be. He sticks his head back out into the main caverns, calling out to, presumably, the drudge that come into the room shortly thereafter, complete with mop and bucket, followed by a second with a second tray of food. The Smith settles himself in a chair, leaning forward and scrubbing his face with his hands for a moment. "Kultir…. You pull something like that with me ever again, and I will beat you like you deserve, understand me? Once is an honest mistake, but twice makes it a willful act." He reaches into a pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and tossing it to Sytin to give to Kultir. "I swear I'm going to get tired of having to bug Lendai…" he mutters to himself, leaning back. "Get yourself together, kid, and we'll talk." Turning to Kapia, he smiles a little, chuckling. "I promise, dear, I really don't yell like that often."

It's a tense situation in the Nighthearth. There has been shouting and near-fighting, mostly between Kultir and Aaron. Kapia, who has tried to shrink back into the corner, is doing her best to stay out of it, with some help from Sytin attempting to calm her. Right now she's doing her best to stay hidden and silent, just barely nodding at something Aaron has said to her.

Sytin's throat convulses in another swallow as the iron liquid continues to well up in his mouth, preventing much by way of actual conversation from the younger Candidate. Oral communication going the way of the dodo, the former Smith settles for the next best thing: body language. Ariel ain't got nothing on him! Long arms wrap around Kultir, pulling him into the biggest, tightest, most brotherly hug he has within him. And he just holds onto the teenager for a long moment, chin on Kultir's shoulder as squeezes. And then suddenly their is an object flying at him and reflex takes over, arms snaking out to snatch the floating cloth from the air and dutifully hold it in front of the other Candidate's nose. Once Kultir takes it the boy returns to his hug for a moment more before he extracts his appendages and simply puts his palms — left one evoking a wince — onto the back of the chair and leaning for stability as he stares at Aaron, trying to puzzle through the whole message in his head and still wrestling with his swollen speech organ. Eh, silence is golden, right?

Yulena is ready for a nice, relaxing evening of klah, and klah, maybe people watching and… a snack. Maybe she should write a book of it. Call it the Joye of Snacks. This is where Yulena's mind is as she wanders into the room, picking up a mug of klah and a cookie. A pouch from her pocket liberally dusts the klah with spice. There. Now all she needs is a chair, and she's set. So Yulena starts making her way to an open cha…. Heeey, people aren't looking too happy. She'd totally settle back for the show, but one of the players is Aaron and the other is Kultir, so Yules makes her way over to a seat nearby, and announces blindingly happily, "Hi!" Nothing like a screamingly happy attitude to brighten the room up. And then she sits back, entrance made.

Kultir flinches at Aaron's words but he nods slightly. "Aye, sir." he says in a voice nearly a whisper. Then, he's wrapped in Sytin's arms as the younger boy gives him a hug that … if he'd been standing and the Weyrsmith weren't around, would have found the boy on the ground and being tickled mercilessly. As it is, the boy gets a sideways glance with a slight pullaway and raised eyebrow. "Git off, Sy." the older boy says dully, flushing a bit in embarrassment at the brotherly affection the boy is displaying. He dutifully takes the handkerchief and mops at his streaming eyes and wipes his nose as well before deciding that blowing it would be better, and does so. A heavy sigh escapes him again as the last of the tears evaporate and a more calm demeanor takes over. Yulena gets a brief look and an attempt at a smile though it's a bit less than happy that another Candidate will be privy to a talk with the big man, but it's not like he can leave gracefully … not now.

Aaron grins as he sees Yulie, and chuckles more then a little at the attitude she brings into the room. "Where were you ten minutes ago when I wanted to rip off some damn fool's head, Yulie?" he asks, eyes dancing. He scrubs at his face again, running his hands back over his again-shaved head, and the last of the tension leaves his body. "Kultir… Swing by my office in the morning. I'll have a word with the Headman." That wince from Sytin's hand is noticed, and he… Sighs. "What've you gone and done this time, apprentice?" he asks with a wink. It would seem that he's decided that this is a little to public of a forum for airing Kultir's dirty laundry.

Oh good. A distraction. That seems to be just what Kapia needs at the moment. While nobody's paying attention to her, she slowly, slowly tries to leave her seat and sneak towards the entrance, hoping to slip out of the awkwardness altogether.

If there ever was a physical incarnation of Rukbat, Yulena would be it. At least, that is what Sytin's opinion of the overly bubbly klah girl is at present. Brow quirks as she just sort of comes in and pronounces her good cheer upon the assembled. Small scowl and the Candidate glances back down at the lump of emo that is Kultir and lets out a hefty sigh through his nose, head shaking slightly. Eh, he'll save further brotherly affection for later. Aaron's question gets the former Smith's attention — especially when he gets called apprentice — and the boy forces himself to swallow the fluid in his mouth and speak, though somewhat awkwardly as he lifts his left hand and shows the palm with its four nail gashes. "Nuttin' dat won' heal, sir," he manages, closing his mouth to hide the red sheen on his teeth and lips from the bitten tongue. Kapia's slow jail break is noticed and an eyebrow raised at her as his amber eyes land on the skittish teenager. "Eh?" Leaving so soon?

Worrying about 'grace' or 'tact' with Yulena? No fear! It's not like she practices them too frequently either. Speaking of which, her timing might suck too, "I was in the baths. Getting clean so I could get some sleep tonight." Well, we'll see. "Whose head was it?" Aaron's movement is noticed and Yulena pouts a moment. "You shaved it," she reminds him, and reaches over to rub one hand over his head. Still, "Looks good, though." And then Kultir is given a slightly alarmed eye, "The Headman? Why?" The last is not with panic, more a lilt of suspicion, even with the nearly insanely happy grin. But alas, Kapia's leaving and gets a wave and a, "See ya, Kapia, I'll talk with you later!" Promise? Threat? You be the judge! And what brings all this good cheer to the unhappiness? Klah, of course. A lonnng sip is made, and a gold figure slowly starts to work its way down Yulena's shoulder and arm in search of the beverage. Squalk. Gimme.

Kultir looks up at Aaron and nods briefly at the order to report to the man's office and then sighs as he realizes his headache has returned, worse than ever. As usual after such an emotional upset the boy doesn't seem to have anything to say, which is why he usually stays away from people till he can at least try to act normally around them. He's red from more than just embarrassment now, a quick flare of anger flashing in his eyes as he watches the interaction of the Smith and his fellow Candidate but is dismissed with another sigh. It's not their fault, after all. He forces his shoulders to straighten and sits up in the chair, jaw clenching as he makes himself at least appear nonplussed … if you can call it that after his yelling at the big man across from him. His hands fold carefully in his lap as he simply sits and waits to be able to make normal conversation again.

Aaron does notice that red sheen, but doesn't say a word. Nope, not his problem or his place right now. Surely the lesson he was giving Kultir made it through Sytin's thick bloody skull too. At Yulie's question, he just tosses a glance at Kultir. "Nothing bad, I promise. And yeah, I shaved it again… I just couldn't get used to it being long." He chuckles, and waves goodbye to Kapia, resignedly. He's going to have to track her down later and apologize again, isn't he? Kultir, though… Kultir just gets a sad, sad smile. He knows what's going on, but it's not really his place to air it right now. "Kultir…. We'll talk, alright? You have my earnest apologies."

It's late and certain people should be in a bed somewhere. Are they? Why no, of course not! Nevach doesn't seem to mind being awake. Or running into a group of total strangers. The 7 turn old pull up short as near to middle of the group as he can get. You're all here to visit me right? "Hi," he blinks up from person to person with his big brown eyes. "Nevach!!" Nevelyn isn't sure she's ever been more embarrassed as she follows the child into the fray. "Come back here," she snags him by the arm and pauses to look around apologetically. "I am /so/ sorry!" A blush spreads quickly along her cheeks and she bends down to scoop Nevach onto her hip with practiced ease. The antics of Yulena's 'lizard draws her eyes to .. klah! She looks at the woman's beverage with longing. Everyone else in the gathering gets a curious if embarrassed glance.

Spotted! That throws a wrench in Kapia's escape plans. She eyes Sytin and frowns worriedly. "Eh… no, no, I mean… well, uh, maybe. I was just thinking that I…" She's really not making any sense, rambling incoherently. Luckily, a small child charges in and distracts from her lack of articulation. Whew!

Yulena's cheer is sort of tuned out for the moment by Sytin as the pays more attention to Kultir and Aaron. The tenseness in the elder teen's frame causes the former Apprentice to give Kultir's shoulder a squeeze of encouragement before he backs off, giving the boy room. Naught but time will mend this ailment. Aaron's fish eye is certainly noted and causes the former mentee to smile — though through closed lips — as a means of assurance for the Weyrsmith. He'll see a sharding Healer, a'ight? Somehow his expression seems to convey that sentiment. Maybe it's the cock of his eyebrow and the tilt of his chin. Then there is suddenly a tiny boy half his age there and even Sytin can't help but let out a little chuckle as Zhiros peers down at the boy from atop the Candidate's head, chirr. Hand — the good right hand — is waved at the tot before his mother comes in and scoops him up, resulting in the boy looking up at the tall female. Huh. Another wave, tongue just being uncooperative at the moment. And then Kapia's stuttering, getting a sidelong glance and the youth decides to get some more lunch while he's at it. Why in Faranth's name not? And thus the snack tray occupies the predominance of his attention from here on out.

Magrat is making tracks down to the klah and has her head peeking into the cup - not even Yulena's noticed, but then there's a child running about and the ex-cook's nearly-manic grin begins wear a little on her cheeks. Fortunately, the small one is contained and Yulena eyes the eyeing of her mug, trying to shift Magrat's head out of it, "There's plenty, if you like," she tells the woman, waving her un…encumbered hand to the klah pots. A little sigh and Yulena stands up a little, turning to the group with a slightly less manic grin than before, "If you don't mind," dramatic yawn, "I think I'm to bed…" She pauses briefly and then cautiously pats Aaron on the shoulder, "It really does look good on you," she tells the big smith before slowly making her way out, trying to not disturb her klah mug or the firelizard intent on it.

Kultir swallows hard against the lump in his throat and looks back up at the Smith with a faint smile and nods. "It … is fine." he says slowly, trying to let the man know that he doesn't hold a grudge. He reaches for a meatroll on the platter the drudge had brought and gathers a new mug of klah and sighs softly before taking a bite and chews slowly. Maybe if he can keep his mouth full, he won't have to talk to anyone for a while. Though since there's people here too, he won't be able to think things through either. Yulena gets a smile and nod when she announces that she's leaving once more and a soft, "Night." Then the boy is back to staring at a spot just about his knee, chewing another bite of meatroll.

When Yulie makes her was out, Aaron sighs, and heaves himself out of his chair, towering over everyone in the room. Nevelyn and her spawn get a soft, tender smile from the Smith, and he reaches over to Kultir, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You'll make it, kid. Come see me tomorrow morning, I got a few things you need to hear." Sytin gets a pat on the shoulder too, and the big man's heading out. "Y'all take care of yourselves, alright?" Kapia gets a tilt of the head, and then he's gone out into the deepening night.

Nevelyn smiles the patient mama smile at Sytin's brief wave in her direction. She starts there and her eyes make the bounce from person to person. "Thanks," she smiles happily when Yulena waves toward the klah pots. She juggles Nevach and bends to pour herself a mug. Given the day she's had the only thing keeping her from the liquor is her son. "G'night," she tilts her head toward Yulena when the other woman proclaims to be off for bed. Neve wishes she had a bed to be off to. But it's currently sailing somewhere out on the open sea by now. So she's left to swill her Klah and watch people leave. Though there is a rather comfortable chair left available by the big guy's leaving. It looks big enough for the two of them so Neve swings Nevach onto her lap and sits. This will do for a bed this eve.

Once settled on his mother's lap Nevach seems to lose interest in the people around him. He curls up in her lap and sticks his fist in his mouth. Nevelyn reaches up with her free hand and tugs the boy's tunic into place. Generally helping him get settled. She rocks her body in a natural rhythm to get the child to calm down further in hopes that he'll fall asleep soon. Since no one is speaking to her.. she sits quietly and drains her klah. Wondering what tomorrow will bring after the chaos of today.

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