==== December 6, 2013
==== Chalelle, M'tias, S'kyre, W'rin, Xieli, Mayte
==== The comings and goings of Igenites in the Living Caverns at dinner time.

Who Chalelle, M'tias, S'kyre, W'rin Xieli, Mayte
What The comings and goings of Igenites in the Living Caverns at dinner time.
When 6 months and 15 days until the 12th pass
Where Igen Weyr

Chal09.jpg 1Wrin.jpg M'atias.png Mayte2.png


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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.


The wind rages as S'kyre hurries inside. Riding gear is removed so that he's not going to heat to death. I'tani follows shortly behind, "Shards," the one of them breathes, "That wind is bloody hell," the twins look at each other for a moment, then move towards the food. Of course it's food that draws the twins from their respective weyrs, nothing else would get them to brave that mess outside.

Few Whirlies have come out for anything but food since W'rin had them run drills this morning despite the winds. One has to be prepared to fight thread in all conditions. There are a couple spread out at the wing's table. One of them is Igen's weyrleader, who since he missed the major rush for food is free to sit where he pleases. And where he pleases is distinctly not the leadership table. One rider gives him a pat on the shoulder as he heads back out, a pat to which the giant responds with a grunt and then goes back to eating.

Having collected their meals, S'kyre and I'tani head towards the Whirlwind wing's table. W'rin is given a salute before they settle down. Not particularly talkative today they simply tuck into their calorie heavy meals. Leaving anyone that doesn't know them wonder how anyone so thin can eat so much? After a while S'kyre looks up, "Drill was brutal. Should maybe have more in inclement weather," this earns a groan from I'tani, "What're you saying?" all shock and dismay. Don't say that! "I'm sayin' we can't be certain what kind of weather we'll be flying in. Isn't that why you had us up and flyin' this morning, W'rin?"

"First time of the season we hads winds like this." W'rin lets his eyes shift heavily between the two, red from where he took his goggles off in the sand storm so he get a clearer picture of his riders in the mess. "Yah. And we'll need to do more. A lot of the oldtimers haven't flown in those conditions. We'll fly as much as we can so we can all be ready. Takes all of us." The last two sentences makes it clear he isn't faulting those who jumped forward for their lack of readiness in the Igen storms. "I may require twice a days for every wing whenever we get everyone out in a sand storm." His fork jabs toward S'kyre, "You're brother is right, and you know it. S'k…" His eyes fall on the complainer for a moment. "I'tani." Is declared with a grin. Hey, he's better than most.

I'tani gives a glare to his brother, who for his part simply shrugs, "We all need the practice when a light headwind can wrench a shoulder," he teases I'tani whose glare deepens, "That was not entirely my fault. Wac's neck ridges are slightly higher than Ats, and damn bony," a shrug and a grin from S'kyre has the other simply sitting quietly. He'll get his brother sooner or later, he really will it's just a matter of how?

"Wrenched shoulder?" W'rin finally is paying more attention to the conversation than his food. Eyes slowly drifiting up to the twins and his head following a moment behind. "Which one of you?" Because he wasn't paying that much attention. "Have you been to see the healers? And…wait…Were you riding each other's dragons?"

"It wasn't serious, better after a day," I'tani answers with a nod, "The day it happened. Almost a month back, it was minor really sir. I'd have told you otherwise," which is nothing but the truth, another glare is tossed S'kyre's way. S'kyre chuckles, as much fun as it is to try to confuse people that way they never fool around like that on sweeps, "No sir," S'kyre says about the dragons question, "We may goof around like that when we're on our rest day, but not on sweeps," this is said to reassure the Weyrleader. I'tani nods his agreement, "Wac banked, and the wind was up more than I was expecting. Shoulder slammed into the neckridge, and left me with a bruise and a strain," he is now back to paying attention to his meal. S'kyre continues, "Healer said it would be fine after a day or so of rest," which of course the pair are not well known for. They're always up to something.

W'rin's fork drops back to his meal, as proof of his reassurance, and he shoves a mouth full in, chewing and nodding as he listens. Swallowing hard before the food is properly masticated he finally speaks, "Alright, but if it starts to hurt again go see 'em again." He's preaching to the choir, and by the way he doesn't drop any foul language for emphasis he knows it too, still his grumpy papa bear tones indicate it’s his job to say these things. "I need you two in tip top shape. 6 months and we go up. There's no time to heal from a serious injury from here on out so..You know. Your pranks, just keep from doing anything that would hurt yourselves." After a pause he gives on the leash some. "At least badly."

The pair grin, "You know we're careful with our pranks," no one is ever hurt. Embarrassed? Soaked? Sure, but never hurt unless one is to count a bruised ego as 'hurt' that is. I'tani finishes his meal, and rolls his eyes as he looks out towards the bowl, "Figures, Wac's gone back to our ledge. Can't blame him, but I doubt I could get him to budge again. Mind if," a shake of S'kyre's head stops I'tani's question before it can be finished, "Yeah. Should have figured. We're both stuck then."

"You guys know I have to say it." The weyrleader looks up momentarily to offer a grin. "Yah, even Valiuth is curled up on his couch, and he'd much rather be on the ledge watching." The man plunges a finger into his ear and twists, "Bloody sand. Tried to explain to the woman that even after a bath stuff is everywhere, so whats the point?" He shrugs. Females, they don't get the practicality of not bathing.

S'kyre nods along with I'tani. I'tani grins a bit, "There was that one that did understand the practicality of things," but damn if he can remember her name. Cute little thing too, "What was her name, S'ky? You remember?" S'kyre shakes his head, but he does know the female his brother is talking about, "She'd be off limits anyway. You saw her journeyman. Don' know about you, but I wouldn't want tangle with someone roughly the shape and size of a mountain," which is probably part of why W'rin has S'kyre's respect.

With a snort, W'rin goes back to his meal for a moment before lifting his head again. "Yah, that's another order. Don't try to make it with a girl who's journeyman or woman could kill you." The fork is used to indicate one twin, then the other, that's an order for both of them. Of course what this place needs is a little lightening up, "What are you guys cooking up right now?" Is he sincerely interested. Perhaps. Fun doesn't come around as much as it use to, and for W'rin that basically never to begin with.

S'kyre snorts as he looks at his twin who looks back, "We found some orchids that give off a funny smell as they wilt," which has been strung together into a pair of garlands, "It's just a matter of figuring out who to give them to," I'tani, or is that S'kyre? says as the pair are also plotting a nice prank of epic proportions. Something about a certain bronze being 'painted' multiple colors? "We've found a water soluble pain that we think would be," an elbow to S'kyre from I'tani shuts the rider up, and a grin is given, "It washes off. No harm."

S'kyre guffaws along with I'tani, "Not at all," they say together, "We were actually thinking about Junior Weyrwoman Sadaiya for one of the garlands anyway," again the two speak in perfect unison.

"Good. Good." W'rin's grin grows, white incisors poking out uncharacteristically. Perhaps it is good he doesn't look mischievous often, and equally as good werewolves don't exist on Pern. "Anyway. What else has been going on? Speakin' of women." He drops back to a previous conversation, "How do you guys date. I mean…I don't think I've ever seen you apart."

S'kyre chuckles, "We really don't much," there has been the odd woman here or there for one or the other, but really? "Dragons are a bit more important really," where S'kyre has spoken first, the last part was a bit hard to follow as they kind of spoke over each other, "Seriously though, girls are fine and all but no one is really expecting us to settle down," at least not any time soon.

"Smart boys." W'rin's looks is clearly one of fatherly affection, if that father is the size of a bear, and looks just about a angry as one most of the time. "Smart boys in deed." Crossing his arms and resting them on the table he looks from one to the other, "Alright then. While you're here. Formation. The wing has changed a bit, but I don't want to move you from where you're at." Just behind A'lory in mirror positions. "But with K'vvan not behind S'kyre anymore…" And they all knew that was temporary, as small as the green was, "Who do you want behind you S'ky? You trust anyway to cover you." A test? Perhaps. Both of trust, and knowledge of his fellow wingriders ability.

S'kyre thinks for a moment, "Shea," is finally said, "She's quick, her dragon is agile. We don't tangle each other up," he's clearly thought this out, "Kyara would be a good alternative, but really Shea is best there," a firm nod is given by I'tani as he agrees with his brother's assessment, "Kyara could be good there, but really I have to agree with S'ky."

"Shea…" W'rin trails off thoughtfully, but he perks up when the male picks Kyara as a second choice. "Oh Kyara. Good thought." Pulling a chart from inside the jacket hung on his chair, he unfolds it, draws out a stylus scratches down some notes behind S'kyre's name and then folds it back up and sticks it back away. "I'll make formation scholars out of you both yet."

I'tani nods thoughtfully, "You know S'ky that Liareth is pretty agile. She can slip in where Shea's Cervilaervath can't," S'kyre shrugs, "We can put her there," not like he has any say in the matter of course, "She's a strong will, so that's a plus."

"Kyara and Liareth it is…" W'rin tilts his head at S'kyre, "Strong wills are good - especially for you. Faranth knows it'll be good for you to have someone back there that'll not take your bullshit…and will be able to put with your inevitable pranks."

S'kyre can't help but grin at that. He's not going to argue the truth. No point really. I'tani simply laughs at that assessment, because he knows it applies equally to himself, "He's got us both, doesn' he?" is asked from I'tani to S'kyre. This just sets S'kyre off laughing again, it's either laugh or cry right now it seems. The tears are like as not for the weather outside.

Chalelle blows in from the bowl, a scarf wrapped tightly around head and face, and all other body parts otherwise covered in the usual ways. She ducks behind the entrance's covering and begins the tedious and only partially successful process of de-sanding herself. Scarf and jacket and left with the gloves near the entrance, then she begins entering the rest of the cavern, heading toward food and drink.

It has been a long time since a smile was drawn to the weyrleader's face. How fortuitous that the twins sat down to eat dinner with him tonight. W'rin lifts a hand. "Same could be said of me." He offers a shrug, and pokes at the nights dead animal with his fork. As the meal crowd as shrunk it because easy to pick out the people who enter and leave, and he's a man of details, even if he lacks in social graces. Really any graces. "That a herder?" His eyes narrow as he tries to make out the knot from Whirlwind's table.

Chalelle's foots falter when she spots not just one but three riders looking in her direction, one of them being the weyrleader. Uncertainty is obvious in demeanor and expression as she starts to offer an awkward smile, then an even worse, high-untrained salute. Aaaand, she'll just continue toward that food, trying not to dislodge more sand on top of it.

The pair of brown riders chuckle softly. Perhaps I'tani and S'kyre are looking forward to the discomfort of said possible apprentice a bit too much? Perhaps they just know what it's like to have to face W'rin for the first time? Whatever the case they are soon schooling their faces into stony indifferance.

Chalelle has that sick "oh shells" look on her face now. Turning with a plate of food and a mug of hot cider, W'rin's beckon is the first thing she sees. Eyes dart to the twins briefly, but grudgingly quick steps bring her toward their table. "Sir," she says first to W'rin, then, "sirs," to the other two, not coming close to meeting any of their eyes. She stares instead at the edge of their table, where she suddenly decides to set down her things. With hands free, she tries another salute. It's only marginally better than the first.

W'rin pulls his lips thin as he watches the twins struggle to contain themselves as Chalelle approaches, but by the time she's there his normal stern look as reappeared. "Have a seat." There was a request in the command somewhere. "W'rin, of bronze Valiuth." Not that she doesn't know, but then he jabs his fork in the direction of the twins, "S'kyre and I'tani of Atsusath and Waciath. Whirlwind wingriders." Her unsteady salute is met with a crisp, and formal one. "New?" Let's up so or that was probably horribly insulting.

S'kyre finally snickers just a little before he's sobering, "I'm S'kyre, that's I'tani," he points first to himself, then to his brother. Not that he really expects the young woman to remember. Very few seem to, and that's fine with the pair seated across from W'rin.

Not that many people pay attention to the state of M'tias' face (they're missing out) but the dark bruises under his eyes are pretty unmistakable. And anyone with an ear for gossip may have heard about the brawl he was in with K'ane several days ago at the Cantina. Thankfully the swelling has gone down, but his good looks are marred for the time being. Getting something to eat for meal time is a simple enough affair. Get on line, get plate, fill plate, sit down. But not at Arroyo's table. Not yet. Someone's pride isn't done being bruised. So he looks for another place with an empty seat, let the circling begin.

Chalelle's already darker complexion starts to take on a rosy tint as she starts to blush at the table. She does slide into the requested (commanded?) chair without knocking anything over. It's a plus. "I apologize, sir. We do not salute the herdbeasts. Or crafters. I was shown once how, but…" Maybe she wasn't looking at that guy, either. She glances at the twins when their names are mentioned, but hardly enough to figure out which is which. "Chalelle. Senior apprentice." At least she doesn't smell bad today. Sand storms are good for that. She looks at M'tias just long enough to frown at those bruises, but then she's pulling her plate and mug into place.

Having to possibly endure another session of Arroyo jokes about the wrestling match he had on the bar floor or sitting down at a table with W'rin? M'tias looks about ready to pretend like he didn't just hear that 'You' intonation from the Weyrleader. Maybe he can act like it didn't happen! Except that there's some other words being said at him and the greenrider sighs, quietly cursing down at his mashed tubers. He sits down in the chair next to Chalelle, giving her a brief tight lipped smile and nod of his head. It seems he probably knows this isn't the time to be funny. Instead, he starts to eat. Everything is perfectly alright.

A short growl escapes the weyrleader as M'tias sits. He has words, but at the moment, luckily for the greenrider, he is preoccupied by the herder. "No, no. Salutes take practice." He deadpans, or maybe he's serious. W'rin isn't known for his humours side. "How long you been at the weyr?" The wingrider spared for now, or perhaps bronzerider is just stretching out the torture.

A chuckle is given from one of the twins. Whether from S'kyre or from I'tani is hard to say, "Oi, you look like you were on the losing side of an ugly contest," the twinkle in the brown rider's eyes when coupled with the laugh in his voice, makes it very clear that S'kyre or maybe I'tani is just teasing. I'tani does grin at Chalelle, "Don't forget to forget breathing," he teases the senior apprentice. It's just the mood he's in.

"A few months, sir," Chalelle utters, enunciating enough to be clearly understood, but just barely. "Transferred from the Hold." Gaze skitters to the weyrleader's face, then just as quickly to the twins, then to the addressed greenrider. I'tani gets a confused frown for the joke, as she probably takes it seriously, but then she starts to cut into her meal.

It comes out of his mouth before he can stop it, "You should see the other guy." M'tias replies wryly, at least not seeming to take offense at S'kyre. Or is that I'tani? Or is that- Is there a third? "Don't you have another brother?" He could swear there's a third somewhere. Since W'rin hasn't gone straight to eviscerating his bowels, he decides to give the twins attention. Distraction! He narrows his eyes at them speculatively.

"Should have seen the other guy…" Oh yes, piss poor move on M'tias part, with W'rin sitting right there." His face turns towards the greenrider, even if his eyes which stay on Chalelle for just a second (he'll be back to finish this conversation once he's done putting one of his riders on a spike) are half a moment behind. That smile he's wearing, it isn't a happy one, and it gives him the look of a man whose about to do something unpleasant to another. His hands clasp together as he leans forward on his elbows. "Yes. Please do tell me what exactly the other guy did and just what you did to him." His voice having fallen to a dangerous low.

Both S'kyre and I'tani bust out laughing, though the rather serious tone that W'rin takes has both choking the mirth off mid mirth. Time to sober up, and be quiet for just a bit certainly. They can contain themselves, but sometimes it takes a lot of effort.

As the riders delve into clear riders-only territory, Chalelle begins looking for an exit. Though the only logical course seems to be finishing her meal, which she begins to do as quickly as she can without choking. And maybe scooting away from the riders at the table an inch or two.

There are reasons M'tias is never going to be weyrsecond. Or a wingleader. Or even wingsecond. Along with a host of other issues, sometimes he just can't rein that mouth in. But as they say, in for a penny, in for a pound. So, "He punched me directly in the face with a right hook. I fell on the floor, dug my fingers," Some hooking of his fingers just for a good visual happens now, "-into the pressure points on his left ankle and tried to bite him." Insert snarling teeth here. "He fell over. We wrestled on the ground," Wild display of arms swinging around now, "-and I accidentally jabbed him in the eyes with my elbows. And I pulled his hair. And pinched him. And he got me in a bear hug. And then a loose chokehold." Mock gasping for breath. "Then we made up." Kissy face. And then he adopts a serious expression. "I'm already on punishment. If you need to punish me again, that's okay. Just don't hit me in the face, I think my nose would disintegrate, sir."

"Why the hell did K'ane punch you in the face? You did what to his hair?" An exasperated W'rin turns his look of sheer confusion to poor Chalelle, mouthing, 'he pinched him?' and widening his eyes at her in a 'WTF do I do with that' expression. His attention turns back to M'tias. It is true the weyrleader is a fiery ball of rage in a not so well locked up cage, but he's yet to hit a person who didn't truly deserve it. "Well. I'd like to punish you more, but since that's the most ridiculous fucked up shit I've heard…" A hand scratches through his beard, "No. I'm assigning you to sometime in The Pit. -" The man breaks off, "Really? Hair?" Sighing heavily his squishes his temples with a forefinger and a thumb, "Look. I'll have to work out the details with Mama Steen, but a. No more fighting and b. If you do at least do it like you fucking know how. A month of training in The Pit." Surely the woman will be okay with that, attendance is always up ridrers are down there. And perhaps it will jog M'tias memory.

M'tias actually sighs at this part. But only because it's more embarassing than discussing the blow by blow of the fight. "I may have tried to educate him on how to not get a woman pregnant. In public. He lost me a bet." That came out wrong. "Not because he got someone pregnant. But because he hit someone for saying something about-" Does W'rin really care about this part? The greenrider must be thinking not, so he cuts off there. Mostly to stare blankly at him for his assignment to the Pit. "Really?" Pause. "I haven't fought down there in forever. She'll be glad to see me again. Tell her I said hello?" There's a look of fond remembrance across his face for Mama Steen and then, "And hey we can't all fight like you, sir. When you fight someone twice your size sometimes you have to pull their hair and pinch their nipples. Or they'll kill you. I'm sorry but if you ever came after me I'd have to bite you in the calf too, that's just how the world works." He looks to S'kyre. Or I'tani. Or whoever he is. They are, whatever. "Am I right?"

"For saying something about what?" Oh yes, W'rin is going to hear the full story, whether he cares or not. His days as weyrleader are full of shit he has to listen to that he doesn't give a weyrbeasts ass about. Which despite any rumors is -ZERO. "Yes, well it seems you've forgotten. And if you can't fight in a way suitable to be discussed over drinks with your buddies then you should have fighting." It's a logical argument. What's the point if it’s too embarrassing to tell the story later. "If I came at you like that," W'rin's lips draw into a serious line, "You'd be dead." And with that he'll shove a mountain of food into his mouth.

The twins can but shrug. Whether this is in agreement to what M'tias has said or not is hard to figure out. S'kyre and I'tani are going to stay out of this one. They don't mind the joking, and teasing that goes on but they won't put themselves between W'rin and whoever has his ire. That is just madness.

"Something about some woman." M'tias answers when the Weyrleader prods at him, even as he begins to poke at his own plate of food again. "There's no suitable way to fight. Unless you're one of those people who believes that boxing thing is the only way to do it. You fight to win and if you have to pinch a nipple or take a chunk out of someone's earlobe?" Then so be it. "And I'm not embarrassed about the fight." It's the story proceeding it. And perhaps the laying around on the floor afterwards. Maybe. "Probably. Well-" No, no. He won't do it. He's dug a deep enough hole for the day, time to shove some food into his mouth before it creates anymore trouble. Swallowing. "But no, really. Where's the third brother?"

"Oh. A woman." Well suddenly it all makes sense. W'rin's appeased with the details. "Just try and keep it together. Man. You two are wingmates. You have to at least be able to function. I hope you guys got all that shit out of your system." Not that he's lifting The Pit, ban, the refs would have totally called foul on a purple nurple in The Pit. "Anyway. Keep your nose clean." And with a shake of his head at the twins he hefts himself up from his spot. "If there was a third one of them…Pern would explode." And with a salute the weyrleader moving towards the council chambers.

Chalelle has been getting more and more uncomfortable by the moment. The swear words and all that talk of violence has killed her appetite, which is saying something compared to what she does everyday. While the riders are in the middle of M'tias' nipple-pinching story, Chalelle abandons her dinner at the table and stealthily scoots away down the nearest corridor, whichever that might be.

M'tias nods his head with all due seriousness to the Weyrleader. "No, no. We're totally functional. Best of buds. Everything is great." As the giant mountain of a bronzerider gets up and departs the vicinity, he turns to the twins again. "We even have our first joint mindhealing therapy session together. I figure it'll get turns of tension out into the air." He's not even attemping to sound serious now, such is the relief that W'rin has gone away. At the moment, the greenrider sits with the twins at a table where he's just now getting to eat his dinner.

It seems that M'tias can't get rid of Xieli. Or maybe Xieli can't get rid of M'tias. Nevertheless she is marching to where he eats, levering one finger in the air at him while arching her impeccable brows. "First, you didn't show up." Her voice is husky, but waspish. "And then I see you in here, as if nothing has happened, with a face that looks like that!" All ten of Xieli's long fingers execute a graceful gesture that seems to encapsulate the entirety of his cheeky face.

He should have just taken this plate of food and ate it in a corner somewhere. First W'rin catches sight of him and now the healer. "I showed up." M'tias starts and then clarifies with, "But I didn't see you or the attractive blonde girl that you brought up. So since I wasn't dying on the floor I felt it would be a waste of the infirmary's resources to spend time on me. Really, it was a selfless act." The greenrider is full of good explanations and helpful insights tonight. "Gesturing now at his face, "This happened after I was there. At night. And nothing is broken so I just put some ice on it." It's TOTALLY fine. Cracking a smile that totally betrays a bit of puffiness in his lower lip, "But I'm really flattered that you're so worried about me."

S'kyre and I'tani have finished their meal, and stand to clear their dirtied dishes away. They give M'tias a wave as they head for the bowl and the howling winds outside. Time to wrestle with their lifemates in order to get to their respective weyrs.

Xieli doesn't seem to much notice the exiting brownriders. Her gaze is for M'tias, and it's done through the purview of narrowed eyes. "Somehow I doubt that it would ever be a waste of the infirmary's time or talent to see a patient." Her voice is frosty - frosty enough for High Reaches or Fort or Telgar. But they are in Igen, and there's heat in her next words: "I leave to go to the latrines for two minutes." Her eyes narrow FURTHER at the greenrider. "I'm more worried about having to expend extra effort to keep you alive should you continue to sail through life avoiding healers."

"But I wasn't a patient. I was just a drop in guy wondering if someone could poke around at my body to see if it might be broken. I'm sure the other healers appreciated not having to deal with me." He leans his elbow onto the table, sparing the twins a brief wave as they depart. "You were really excited to see me, it's okay to admit. I was disappointed that you weren't there." He sighs in memory of her not having been in the infirmary at the exact moment he was. "If you really want to go poke around at my organs and make sure they don't explode, I can take my shirt off right now during dinner."

Xieli isn't good for anyone's health, all things considered. She's already taking off her listening tube from around her neck (she came straight from the infirmary by the look of her clothes) and gesturing imperiously for M'tias to put his money where his mouth is. Or take his clothes off, something. Her implements of goosebump-inducing coldness are at the ready.

He probably can't get in more trouble for the week, can he? That's rhetorical. He could definitely get into a lot more. When the listening tube comes out, M'tias pushes the chair back away from the table and proceeds to unfasten every button on his sirt all the way down and take it off. While not, you know, ripped beyond comprehension like a greek god or anything close to it, the greenrider's body has seen ten turns of riding so he's not a flabby lump underneath. He drops his shirt onto the table in front of Xieli. Challenge on.

Xieli has a very defineable skillset that has enabled her to navigate the waters of the nowtimer crafthall with a reasonable amount of ease. Talent, after all, is always accomodated for, no matter the politics. This skillset spills over in being carelessly dismissive of the environment that they are in - the ability to block away the ambient circumstances is a good thing for a triage healer. She gives her hands a cursory rub before going in on her prodding, but her fingers are still cool to the touch. And maybe ticklish, despite the firm way she wields them. "When was the last time you were seen by a Healer?" Her voice is clinical, as is her visual assessment of the scars on his chest.

M'tias can be carelessly dismissive of the environment around them too. But that's only because he really has nothing to lose at this point in his life. "A few months ago when they had to set my arm." He reminds her, flexing that arm that she was poking at and around at their last encounter. There's a few odd stares from people going about with their meals, but that's just met with a lift of those ruddy ginger eyebrows. His chest has the scars and also some bruising from that wrestling match a few days ago.

Oh, the bruises. Xieli lacks the gentleness that most would naturally assume from her gender. The fairer sex doesn't apply to this healer. She pokes at one especially-nasty looking bruise with a quick glance up, possibly to gauge his pain threshold or possibly just because she's perverse. "How long ago has it been since whatever incident caused all these?" Her eyes flicker to the arm and back again. Of little consequence now, apparently.

The greenrider does wince here and there as she man handles him, poking at that one ugly looking bruise like she does. "Several days. Whatever day it was that you stood me up at the infirmary." M'tias answers, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he moves this way and that through her examination.

Xieli's mouth draws down in a line. She keeps going, placing her listening tube finally against his chest. "Take a deep breath, please," comes the traditional request. She even says please! Even though it doesn't necessarily sound any less grating. "Why were you fighting?" He's going to rehash this every day for the rest of his life, at the rate he's going, poor little ginger man.

M'tias breathes deeply, holds it in for a moment and then exhales naturally. On the exhale he'll launch into the tale of how this all happened to him. "I may have said something that was completely obnoxious and borderline infuriating. To a person that doesn't do so well with that kind of thing. That man then punched me dead on in the face. At which point I nearly went unconscious on the floor, came to, and brought him down onto the ground with me." How that happens is left out, skipped over. "And then we wrestled on the ground for awhile."

Xieli repeats the process on the other side of M'tias' chest, then his back. The methodical procession of this examination is a testament to how little either of these two parties give a f…ig. "And how did you get him to the ground?" She pauses and withdraws her listening tube, a faint frown on her face, patting at her pockets as if she's trying to locate something or figure out if she's left it elsewhere. M'tias is shirtless and Xieli is giving him a disapproval-laced public examination. There may be a few gawkers.

As she repeats the process, M'tias is kind enough to breathe in now and again to help accomadate her examination. He's sporting a bruised face and some markings on his chest as well, courtesy of that encounter a few days ago. Rolling as his eyes up to the ceiling and looking nonchalent about it, "I took my fingers and I dug them into that tender spot on your ankle and I pinched as deeply as I could." Pause. "Then I tried to bite him but he was already falling on top of me."

Mayte makes her way in from the Outside, taking a moment to shake off as much accumulated dust as she can. It's been a long day, evident by a girl's tired and grumpy expression, and the way she rolls her shoulders is telltale of labour. The dust that rolls off her is telltale that she hasn't bathed yet, and anyone close to her gives that dirty look like they weren't out in a field of grapes all day. Mayte stalks to the food table and fills a plate with heavy, rich foods, and a tall glass with water, before making her way back to a seat which is somehow open very close to the show. That… for as tempered as Mayte is right now, she can't help but listen in, and admittedly watch. Between bites of food. Right. Then there's something she can't help but reply to, "Sorry, what part of him were you trying to bite?" Nipples for two marks, A'lex…

Xieli finds her glow-tube, just in time to level a disbelieving look at M'tias. Her eyes shift over to Mayte at the girl's questions, and the woman herself can't help but loft eyebrows upwards. It is a good question. "Well? I need to look at your eyes. Don't blink." She does that light-sweep, closer-farther. "Are you using substances to self-medicate? Open your mouth and say 'ah'." Do all of these things, M'tias, all at the same time! Superman.

"The ankle." M'tias answers that questioner from the peanut gallery. He twists around now to track down the voice it belongs to, landing over there on Mayte. When he turns back aroud, there's a glow-tube being held up in his face. He does the exact thing that she requests he doesn't do, which is blink. Several times in surprise, actually. Then he widens his eyes and tries to keep them open through the exam of them. "Waaah? Mnnnnooo." That's what happens when you want two things done at once!"

Mayte is just about to tuck into a nice slice of wherry on toast as M'tias answers; however, the response leaves her mouth agape for a moment. "The ankle?" Even acknowledging it herself requires a few moments to envision the action, and only then is it good that Mayte put down the food instead of biting in because she starts to snicker and laugh. No one wants bits of wherry sprayed into the examination area. "Why… Why would you…" giggle-snort, "Bite the ankle? D'ja chip a tooth? On the bone, I mean." Dinner, and becoming part of the show. They could charge for this kind of entertainment.

"No chipped teeth." Clinical, Xieli's statement. "Well." There's a pause there. "No recent ones." She finishes her inspection of M'tias' tonsils (with her glowtube, not her tongue, unfortunately for the greenrider) and withdraws, slipping her glowtube back into her pocket and shifting a final look of disapproval to the brawler. "Try to put things between you and fists flying at your face, next time." That apparently is the end of her examination. At least she didn't ask him questions about his bowel movements. She smiles faintly at Mayte. "Do you have any questions for me?" she asks M'tias, eyes already drifting back towards the inner caverns.

When he gets the opportunity to speak with the full ability of his mouth again, "Because I was on the ground. Does no one in this weyr understand that when you're small you don't run head on at something like a fucking idiot? The reason half the weyr is going to die in the first threadfall is because they'll probably send their dragons flying straight on ahead into a steaming, tangling mess of it and try to punch it with their bare hands mid-flight. And everyone will sit around wondering, "How did that go wrong?" For the end of Xieli's examination, this scathing ramble of a monologue involves a lot of pointed hand waving. "No." To the her suggestion about next. And then he steps back, plucking his discarded shirt off of the table. About questions, "No." And then he leaves. Into the sandstorm. With no top on. It's called leaving with flair.

Mayte has calmed down from her snigglefest (snicker+giggle) to get a bite of wherry-onna-bun, watching the rest of the examination with detached interest. Xieli's faint smile gets one briefly in return just before M'tias begins his rant. Mayte continues to munch, eyebrows rising slowly with the visionary path M'tias takes. There's a brief, concerned look shot at Xieli. Should this man be saving Pern from imminent Threadfall? And as he leaves, Mayte wonders aloud, "Uh, is he okay by himself tonight?" Xieli seems to be healer-like; she'd know, right?

Xieli closes her eyes for a long moment. She breathes in through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale pink, exhale blue. When she opens her eyes she turns them upon Mayte. And then Mayte's plate. "You need more vegetables." Xieli, ruining everyone's fun for the last twenty turns. "I'm not sure. If you'll excuse me?" Because someone walking half-naked out into a sandstorm apparently is enough to trigger the do-no-harm clause for this particular Healer. She'll even pat Mayte's shoulder before she leaves, in a consolation prize of it's-okay-that-you-don't-eat-enough-leafy greens. Off to save the world. Or M'tias. Or her sanity. Wait, the last one is already gone — shucks.

Carbs are eventually obtained from vegetables, right? Mayte looks down at her plate upon Xieli's condemnation of her eating habits and huffs a little, popping a bit more wherry into her mouth. Defiant to the end, but anyway protein eats veggies, so it counts too. But the Healer is pardoning herself and Mayte barely has time to react to the pat on her shoulder before it's gone and Xieli's out the door. Mayte twists around briefly to make sure she's gone before digging more fully into her open-face wherry sandwich. As for needing more veggies? The Vintner pulls out a wineskin. How's that for your fruit'n'veg?

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