==== February 14th, 2014
==== Veresch, Muirnin, Aikari, Erikkhan
==== Erikkhan is exhausted, Veresch has pants, Muirnin tries her best to nanny, and Aikari is just a brat. All in the day in the life of the Weyrfolk of Igen Weyr.

Who Veresch, Muirnin, Aikari, Erikkhan
What Erikkhan is exhausted, Veresch has pants, Muirnin tries her best to nanny, and Aikari is just a brat. All in the day in the life of the Weyrfolk of Igen Weyr.
When Nineteenth day of the first month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
Where Living Caverns, Igen Weyr

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Living Caverns
Dim light from hanging glow-globes cannot fully camouflage the ravages of time and neglect on Igen's busy living caverns, though hints of its former glory peek through in the decorative cuts to the cave's natural limestone and the high quality of dusty, tatty-ended tapestries. Here and there, skybroom tables — stained dark by wood finish and a decade of grime — sit in loose groups, flanked by wicker chairs with pointy, broken rattan that pokes out to invariably find unprotected skin. The seemingly randomly placed furniture, however, at closer inspection, forms a sort of cross-shape of negative space. At the northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns, a long buffet table with tarnished lazy susans hosts an array of finger-foods and pitchers for the interested, refilled occasionally by drudges that shuffle in from the curtained entrance to the south, beyond which lies the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside and, across from that, to the west, a set of rattling doors that open to reveal the tunnels and stairs of the inner caverns themselves.


It's a lovely day, if one likes bright sunny skies and nippy cold, and there's a steady stream of people in and out only too glad of getting their work done for once /without/ scorcing heat. Veresch is not one of the lucky ones; seated at one of the tables in the living cavern, she's got a bowl of some kind of legumes in front of her, and is desultorily shelling them. To one side, in a heap, lies a pile of leather, which gets a glance from her every so often as the baby rat — sorry, firelizard — turns back and forth in it. Great. Now there's blood to get out as well as dragon-oil, and from the pouty, sulky twist her mouth is in, she's not looking forward to it.

By the egg! It's a Zombie on Pern!! Oh wait, no, it's just a sleep deprived journeyman harper that just walked through the door. Erikk shuffles across the living cavern, searching for klah and some source of nutrition. From the looks of him, Erikk's been holed up in his studio for days again. Charcoal mars the handsomeness of his face, not to mention the brown bags under his eyes. His hair is mussed, and once fine clothes are covered in coal and paint and who knows what else. He walks on auto pilot through the line, and lazily to a spot near Veresch, where he slumps down into a seat and takes his first sip of klah. A satisfied sigh escapes him, and he drinks more, enjoying this one small pleasure.

Veresch glances up for a moment, attention drawn more by the fact that a bit of the charcoal smudging looks like Nerat's outline than the handsome face below, and there's a mumble of greeting, all rolled together into 'hurnurnurmorningharper' than anything else. The clothes get an inspection then - he seems to be in the same boat as her - but her head drops again to the legumes that she's shelling one a minute. Finally, clearing her throat, she speaks. "Um. Is it difficult to get oil out of leather pants?" Because seriously, he knows all about oily pants, right? Look at the state of him! "…and blood?"

Erikkhan lifts an eyebrow, hazel eyes coming 'round to land on the girl near him. " 'Mornin…" He grunts, voice still not found yet. He wipes one eye in an attemt to wake up a little more, mind slowly coming to focus. Again, he looks at the young girl, her question finally registering. "It's near impossible…" He answers, sounding less gruff than before. He clears his throat. "I might be the wrong person to ask about getting things /out/ of fabric…" He chuckles, lifting his klah to his lips once more.

Yeah, from the look of him, Erikkhan's more good at getting things /into/ fabrics. Still, Veresch's expression falls, and the /thing/ on the heap of leather utters a sound somewhere between a creel and high-pitched laughter. For emphasis, it turns around on its rump again, talons and wing-tips hooking into the tough hide with little kitten-pricks of naughtiness. "Stop that," she advises shortly, and indulges in some high-speed shelling to get away from her thoughts. "So… um." She tries out a hesitant smile - Nabol's really kind of pretty on his face like that. "…only, see, it's the Weyrsecond's pants, and he gave them to me because I oiled him up, and… yeah. The washing ladies are all busy with real work, my mother says."

Muirnin comes outof the kitchen, a slice of bread between her lips and her hands high and back, putting her hair into a runnertail. She sees people actually in here and freezes, arms dropping quickly to put her shirt back in place so her tummy's not peeking at them. "MMffnnherr" she mutters around the slice before taking it out of her breath, cheeks hot. "Umm.. didn't know there were people in here," she says more clearly. Looking between the two, she pauses, not sure she wants to know about the weyrsecond being.. oiled.. or not.. a crooked smirk crawling across her lips.

Erikkhan chuckles. "Well, if you have to do it yourself, why not just /ask/ one of the washing ladies how to go about it? Surely one of them can spare a moment to explain to someone else how to wash something." He chuckles again and looks at his food with slight disdain. He's hungry, but the energy just isn't there yet. And a new arrival gets a slow greeting from Erikk too. "Mornin…" He says, sitting up slightly straighter.

Aikari sweeps into the Living Caverns, in only the way a seven-turn-old can. Her dainty little gold curled around her neck, the child, with her nose turned up into the air, skip-saunters towards the food. A pasty is selected, sugary and sweet, as well as just the smallest amount of klah. Because all the sophisticated adults drink klah so she can as well. Just ignore the large amount of sugar and milk that goes in with it to make it somewhat drinkable to a child's palate. Her eyes scan the seats open to her and finds a spot to her liking near a few others. Aikari sits and starts sipping at the klah, making faces with each time the stuff touches her tongue. GLECK. But still, she DRINKS. All while overhearing the conversation going on. Close enough to Veresch, the kid leeeeans over to get a look at the pants, before shooting a glance at Erikkhan, her eyes suddenly narrowing. "Simply buy a new pair," is suggested airily. Muirnin gets a look. "Of course there are people here! It's the Living Caverns. Duuuuh." Isn't she just PRECIOUS?

The pants are suspiciously big and quite stained, with patches of oily residue and blood from a firelizard's breakfast and, well, something that /might/ be one sleeping on the pile. It's sleeping half-on its wings, and is twitching every now and then. Its relaxed expression is curiously juxtaposed against Veresch's surly one, even if it does lighten a little when Muirnan makes her way to the table. The girl's been in her care even before they moved forward and Resh had her first growth spurt. She's probably responsible for half of the theoretical grey hairs. Then, more narrow-eyed, she eyes Aikari, who's looking suspiciously cheerful. And, you know, rich. "I can't buy a new pair," she points out. "I don't have the marks. I'll just … ask around." Her gaze drops to the pastry. She knows she shouldn't, really, what with teenaged hormones. But. "Did you bring enough for the class?" she snipes.

Muirnin sees the little one settle with khal of all things and forgets her own breakfast in hand. She gets a glass of milk and goes to her, ever the Nanny, she hands her the cup and takes the khal in a swift exchange with a look that gives the child no stand to quarel. "Swap, or I'll make you have fruit instead of a pastery," she warns, letting her off with the sweet. Having grown up a weyrbrat in the old Igen, and now one of those that looks over the nest of children instead of having left it fully, she has that whold "don't try it, been there, did it already" air about her. A wink is given to Resh as she settles then, a little nod given to the Harper for his greeting. "Did you use those things to oil someone's dragon after a feeding?" she teases the girl from 'home', a wink given of her mis-matched eyes.

Erikkhan had apparently been gazing off… he comes back too and suddenly, there's /people/ in the living caverns. He sits up straight and sips more of his klah, waving to all the new arrivals. "Well, sems the mornign has officially started." He comments, not ready for the hustle and bustle of the day. He really should get out more often..

"Get your own!" Aikari snaps quickly, horking the entire pastry into her mouth and chewing vigorously. "S'mine." Or at least it sounds sort of like that, what with all that food in her mouth. It takes a few minutes for teeth and saliva to do their job, working the food down to something worthy of being talked through. As her klah, her BELOVED KLAH, is TAKEN FROM HER by the nanny, Aikari's face turns an interesting shade of red. Her eye starts to twitch just so, before they narrow, dangerously. The milk is stared at with absolute hatred, then the same look goes to Muirnin. A deep, looong breath is taken and a smile, fake and large, blossoms on her face. Her hand reaches out, picks up the milk, then Aikari proceeds to stand up on her seat. Ever so slowly, she tips the glass over, allowing the milk to trickle out onto the table, before the whole think is allowed to just turn over completely letting the liquid out with a WHOOOOSH. "No," is said simply simple, eyelashes fluttering. "Daddy lets me drink klah. You are not my daddy. You touch my klah again, I tell my daddy." Then her face gets drop dead serious. "Or worse, I'll tell my mommy." She'll do it too.

Veresch's head, if it had soundeffects, would be turning excruciatingly slowly, like a rusty gear, as the milk spills out. She watches, horrified, as the thin trickle turns int a splash, a /wave/ of milk that washes up against the pants, adding a milky-white patina to a portion of it. She doesn't move to rescue it — that would be too late, and she'd rather yank Aikari's spiral curls out. For a moment her mouth contorts, and her gangly body tightens as if she wants to jump over the table and do it. In the next moment, as realization sinks in, her head drops to the table with a thud and she groans, long and low. "Cha'el is going to /kill/ me. I'll be dead. Ded. And then that bas… that dragon of his will just nostril me, and I'll be chained to his side, slaving away forever as an oiling drudge!" Slightly melodramatic, yes. But Erikkhan! Yes, and Muirnen. Witnesses. "You guys!" she says, sitting up with a red forehead. "You'll tell them it was that baby wretch, right?"

Muirnin looks over at the little girl and smiles, sugar sweet and completely unruffled. "Tell you what. You go RIGHT AHEAD and tell your Daddy.. and your Mommy. They can come to me and tell me themselves that you're allowed to drink Khal with more sugar in it than liquid. And once they tell ME you have permission, I will be sure to tell them how you dumped your glass over, wasting a perfectly good glass of milk, instead of just putting it up. How's that sound?" she coos, eyes snapping with challenge that is in contrast to her soft, welcoming tones. With that, the brat's completely dismissed, head turning to Resh. "Cold water soak for the blood, then work in soap sand to the oily spots. Milk won't stain, but once you're done scrubbing them, you'll need to work some leather oil bakc into the while thing so they don't stiffen," she councils, having cleaned up enough after little kids be able to salvage her own clothes by now. She looks at the dozing Harper and shakes her head, just grinning a little as he seems to be asleep in his cup. "How did you get into this mess, Resh?"

"Sounds perfectly fine to me." Aikari says, sitting back down. Not in her original seat, there's some milk on that, but near enough. "We'll see how well you do, face to face with a bronzerider and a goldrider, nanny." Aikari hisses the words out, eyelashes still fluttering though, like an adorable bunny with razor sharp fangs to tear out the throat of any who dare cross her. "Hey!" All indignant now, as the child is called the most vile of words. "I am not a baby! I'm seven! I'm practically a teenager!" In, y'know, like six years. Bristling, the Weyrbrat sits in silence a moment, before a sly smile awakens on her lips. "Cha'el, was it?" Eyebrows raise. "I'm going to tell him! On you. Tell on you to him." Pause. "Yeah. That. You're gonna get in trouble!"

Veresch, being late on the stages of sexual evolution and somewhere between ponies and boyz, does not blush at the question. Instead, she slanders forth happily, because her hand is still itching to smack Aikari. "It all started when I oiled the Weyrsecond up. Well, no. First I oiled his pants up, because he snuck up on me at the lake." with a huge dragon. Right. "So I guess it was the brown's fault. But then he points me to a boulder, and strips off as if he wants to get oiled as well - who knows, riders are vain sometimes, right, and Granny did say it's good for the skin afterwards. So I told him to take them off and I'd clean them, but before I could that thing over there decided to have breakfast in it whilst I'm shelling legumes, and now that…" She flicks a couple of shelled legumes Aikari's way - double points for in the mouth whilst she's talking, hopefully! "Now she ruined them." This, of course, before Miss Milk decides to threaten her as well. The thing that crosses her face can vaguely be called a smile. Really, it has teeth. That's about it. "I'm more than double your age, shorty. Want to get it on right here?"

Muirnin rolls her eyes a little. "Resh, you're not going to rumble with Toddler!" she scolds and then smirks, knowing the term will further urk the little high and mighty weyrbrat. "Like I said, cold water for the blood.. soap for the oil.. wash as normal after, and then oil the leather and work it it so they don't stiffen. It's not going to be an issue," she assures, moving over to sit closer to the girl, eyeing her firelizard mess on them. Belatedly she decides to grace the little girl with a response, giving her a sly little grin. "I don't care if your parents are tunnel drudges or the Senior Weyrwoman, you.. are still a child.. and still a brat, and I have no fear of telling them to their face. They fart, burp, and bleed like every other human here. Their rank is their earning, not your excuse to be intollerable. Now, you have the option of wiping up that mess yourself, or I can be sure to suggest other chores to your Mother when I see her next?"

Aikari tries to duck the legumes, but isn't quick successful, one hitting her square in the forehead. Two points to Veresch! A growl leaves the little lady's throat before she's attempting to calm her child-aged temper down. If only she had some pastry or milk left. Eyes continue to narrow dangerously, before she rolls them oh-so-daintily. "Puh-leeease. You lay a hand on me, and I'll be crying and sobbing and making a scene so fast. You'd be thrown from this Weyr in seconds!" With a haunty flip of her hair, a move gleaned from the adults she's been around surely, Aikari is the picture of smugness. "You are truly an idiot then." That's right, she went there. "A stupid, dimglow!" A laugh, almost a little creepy coming from a child. "I'mma gonna go back to my daddy's weyr and tell Dhioth to call over Talicanitath and my mommy. Because I won't be cleaning nothin' up. I ain't— err, am not, yeah, no drudge. I do not clean." Aikari gets up to her feet now, hoping down from her seat and standing her full MASSIVE height at seven turns. Hands go on her hips. "The name is Aikari, if'n you both didn't know. And you," her chin juts to Veresch. "can't touch me. And you," a dark scowl at Muirnin. "can't tell me what to do! So NYAH!"

"Wipe it up with her head," Veresch mutters sulkily, deprived of the opportunity to yank out glorious handfuls of sproingy curls. "Her hair ought to soak it right up." There's a quiver in her voice there, pique and rage and sniffles in some strange triangular fashion, but soon enough she reaches out to the little bronze and lifts it, putting the sleepy form on top of her head instead until it sprawls there like a miniature puppy, wings covering her ears. It grunts at her, obviously used to the treatment. "Water," she repeats obediently. "Then soapsand. Then wash, then oil. Got it. Thanks, Muirnin." And that's when Aikari speaks up again, threatening to toss her out, and Mount Veresch explodes: beneath it all she's as painfully insecure as any other teenager; combine that with very strict parenting and she's afraid of being no good in the Weyr anyway. "You… you…!" Her chin quivers as she tries to gargle for words, but it's as if the hinges of her jaw seized up from sheer irritation.

Muirnin listens to her full on rant, lips pressed together tight. Not in anger, but you can see her chest and her shoulders twitching with swallowed down laughter, trying so hard not to bubble up snickering at her indignant rage. Dimglow indeed! Her eyes tear up with the effort to not bust out and simply further enrage the little haughty beast. "Whatever you say," she says with obvious patronizing tones. "Why don't you run and do that then," she offers, not feeding the girl's rage a bit. Seeing Resh react however, she smooths a hand over the small of her backand leans in whispering. "She's a child, spoiled and bratty. Don't let her get to you, if you do, she wins. She has no more weight to throw around than your little bronze chittering in the face of a Gold dragon. Breath, let it go," she sooths, every ounce of her voice dripping with that motherly care she's come to learn how to wield, her usually soft alto going a knotch warmer.

Veresch's explosion only fuels the evil darkness that lies in wait in Aikari's soul. Bwaha. Bwahaha. BWAHAHAHAHAHAAH! The seven-turn-old gives a snap to her fingers, grinning all the while. Even Muirnin's amusement doesn't send the weyrbrat into a snit, as anticipation of something good is written all over Aikari's face. "Okay!" Her little nose is up in the air again. "I will." And so the girl turns on her heels and happily skips a few steps away, before turning around and throwing up both her middle fingers at the two older girls. She has no idea what that means, but she's seen adults do it before, so surely it must be good. That done, Aikari grabs another pasty, shoves it in her mouth, as she struts out on the Living Caverns, giggling and spitting out specks of food as she goes.

For a moment there's a spot of breathing, suspiciously lamaze-like, that comes from Veresch. On the one side it's really quite amusing, seeing her mottled with red like that. On the other hand, it might be kind of alarming, given then way that she squints after the brat, longingly eyeing her spiral curls. That's when she sees it, and for a moment the planet stops moving around Rukbat. In that second a fiery hate boils up from somewhere inside - heartburn, maybe - and she half-lunges over the tables as That Kid flips her the bird. It's not successful, since Muirnen and a pretty sturdy piece of wood is in the way, and seconds later there's an anguished yowl as the firelizard sinks its talons in to avoid being jostled around. "You gnarly little bitch!" she decibels after Aikari, teary-eyed. "You miserable little runt! Let me just go and get her, Muir, it'll take five seconds!"

Muirnin reaches up and puts her hand on your shoulder, pulling you back down to your seat before reachingup and petting under the little bronze's chin to calm him. "Why? So you can get in trouble for giving her the slap she needs? No.. it'll be much sweeter when I talk to her mom and her 'untouchable' little delisions are shattered by her own parents. Breath, Resh," she sooths shaking her head. "It dawns on her the way that being a nanny's warped her head, she's amuzed instead of angry and a whole lot more patient than she'd ever admit to. "Just worry about getting your bloody mess of trousers cleaned up, that little runt will hang herself with her own rope."

It takes long moments for Veresch to sag back in her seat again, teary-eyed and still shivering with sulky rage; whilst Muirnin has seemingly successfully navigated the waterfall of Teenaged Hormones, Resh is juuust about pushing her boat over the beginning of the waterfall. "She deserves one," she sniffs. "A smack, I mean. A huge, fat one. And he does too, but he deserves to get kicked in the …" She doesn't quite say it, her mother isn't /that/ far away, but the significant glance she gives states louder than words that he, whoever he is, did not make a good impression. "I hate everyone," she finally mutters, resting her head on the desk again. "And I hate legumes!"

Muirnin sighs and finishes off her bit of toast, brushing crumbs off of her shirt and then eyes the girl. "Everyone? Really? I guess I'll slink back into the brat's nest then and leave you to your pant scrubbing," she says in a rather emo tone, but there's no shortage of twinkle in her eye or smirk on her pink lips.

That's probably the fastest that Veresch's hand has ever smacked out, that grab she makes for the nanny's wrist. "No!" she says, sitting upright in a flash and earning herself another clawing. "No! I need you. You know what to do, right?" She grabs the soiled pants off the table, ignores the bowl and leans forward to kiss Muirnin on the top of her head. "You'll be my rescuer. I might still survive. I'll not-hate you for fifteen minutes of scrubbing at least!"

Muirnin can't help it, all the laughs she wanted to spill all over the indignant 7 turn old now bubble out. "For a whole 15 minutes, huh?" She teases, nodding once. "C'mon.. let's get them fixed so you can avoid your impending doom," she says, ramping up to match the younger teen's drama level.

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