====June 10th, 2013
====Alwyn, Kyara, Webley, Aaron, Prineline, cameo by Ravene
====The Weyr gains a new Harper. People come and go, booze (and cold remedies) are shared…with interesting results.

Who Alwyn, Kyara, Webley, Aaron, Prineline, Ravene
What The Weyr gains a new Harper. People come and go, booze (and cold remedies) are shared…with interesting results.
When There are 2 turns, 0 months and 12 days until the 12th pass.
Where Living Cavern, Igen Weyr

Living Cavern
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.


Winter. Another day of cold, wet weather with most people cooped up inside the living cavern unless they have to venture outside. Any excuse to not be cold is taken. Sure, there are people moving around and doing what needs to be done to ensure the proper functioning of a Weyr, but there're also a lot of people who are taking their ease and enjoying a hot beverage. And then…there's the new guy. There's almost no way to hide the fact that one face amongst the masses is new. He's got that feel about him. His clothes aren't your usual Igen variety. His hair is a bit shaggy in the front and his eyes are scanning the chamber as though he's never seen it before. Feh. Tourist? With a satchel slung over one shoulder and what could only be described as a gunny sack is hefted over his shoulder. Must be a new arrival.

This is her third cup. Kyara never drinks this much klah, no matter how cold it gets. But the weather has been taking its toll; this is her first winter at Igen Weyr, and she isn't used to the damp chill. That said, she's been a bit under the weather, and a harper with no singing voice is never a good thing. Her voice is recovering today, and klah has definitely been helping. She wants it to get better faster. Maybe that's why she's drinking so much of it. Plus, it's right there within arm's reach. May as well go after it once her mug is drained. She sits close to the klah hearths to keep the guitar she's got with her warm enough to stay in tune. Still, a new silhouette against the cavern entrance catches her eye, and she looks up to find a face she's not familiar with. Another newcomer? Now? Perhaps it's just the fact that she's been cooped up for a few days, but she's curious. She shifts to get a better view. "Welcome," she calls, pleased that her voice now has some strength to it. "If you've come to get warm, you've found the best place for it. Have a seat and a drink!"

Alwyn was just waiting for an invitation. He's got manners it would seem - or at least the closest approximation of manners one could have after a long trip, in the cold. "Oh, thank you…," he mutters and wanders over to the hearths to grab a seat and with it a mug of that wonderfully warm substance that normal folk would call by that mundane name 'Klah'. Anyone who's been out in weather like this - for any length of time knows it by another name. Mmmm. Sip. Sigh. It's that exhale one has after they've taken the first sip of something warm when they'd swear that their own fire went out a few days ago. "A thousand blessings be upon whoever s-stoked this fire. After another sip or two he slides the large sack over to rest between his feet and leans back in the chair to let some of the fire's warmth start to soak in, "What do they call you? I ask so that I can remember this moment and, "he pauses to take another sip or two before continuing, "…great golden mother this is good." Distracted much? His eyes, bright as a blue's belly, dart around the woman's frame for a second attempting to pick up any small detail - however so slight. "How's your cough?" He asks apparently without cause or reason.

The harper girl watches the shaggy-banged newcomer curiously as he settles in with his mug across from her, smiling a bit to watch him absorb the warmth as though he hasn't experienced any for a few days. Which might be true. That his sharp blue eyes are assessing her isn't lost on Kyara. She seldom sees a person so intent on picking up the details of a person as she is, and she wonders what the boy does. His self-distracted question makes her chuckle - carefully, so that she doesn't cough. Then he asks about her cough, and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She hadn't even mentioned it. Perhaps he heard something in the roughness around the edges of her voice? "Observant of you!" she comments with a smirk. "It's mostly gone, but not enough to my liking. 'They' who know me in the short time I've been here call me Kyara. What do 'they', wherever you're from, call you?"

Alwyn tries to take a breath to speak and turns his head sharply to sneeze. Twice. "Awyn…" he explains with that post-sneeze voice which is never as clear as you mean it to be. "Alwyn," he corrects. "…from Benden Weyr." With another sip or two he reaches into the large sack set on the floor between his feet, fishes out a small glass bottle no bigger than his fist and fiddles with the stopper. His hands just aren't cooperating at the moment. His fingers - even with the big mittens, aren't working and he's not yet ready to remove them. "Would you mind opening this please?" he asks and offers the orange glass bottle to the woman. Slowly the warmth decides to slip in through the layers he's bound himself up in and his nose starts to redden a bit. "Try some if you like - my mother's own brew for sore throats, colds and scratchy harper throats." He smiles and whips his head to the side once more for another sneezing attack. Two of them.

With a grin, Kyara takes the offered bottle and plucks the stopper from its narrow neck, sniffing lightly at it. "I thought you might be a harper," she says, adding a bit of the remedy to her drink before handing it back. "You've the eyes and ears of one." She sips, feels a slight numbing and warmth soothing the lingering rawness in her throat, and sighs. "Blessings on your dear mother for inventing whatever this is, Alwyn," she breathes. "And well met." She picks up her guitar and softly begins tuning it, discreetly looking him over much as he did to her a few moments ago. "So, Benden Weyr? What brings you all the way down to Igen? New posting?"

As soon as the stopper's removed, the wafting odor of ginger crawls out of the bottle and lingers around the two of them for a moment. Pungent, some would say. Warming and soothing for others. "Yeah - I have my letter of introduction somewhere in my bag, but my fingers aren't exactly nimble enough to," he pauses and inhales as though a sneeze was about to attack him and he has that half-sneeze face for a few moments. Ugh. Hate that. No way of looking serious when you're caught in the middle of that. "… get it." Reaching for the bottle he takes a brief swig of the mix and sets it on the table, the scent of the root spilling out to mix with the wood smoke of the hearth, the people and…is that wine? Yes…It would appear that Alwyn has either had more than his share - odd since he doesn't seem like a drinker and probably not for his age - or there's some opened nearby. An astute pair of eyes might see the dark violet stain upon his shirt - now exposed as he has opened his jacket to allow more of the warmth to penetrate his bones.

A light cough rises in Kyara's chest, and she tries half-successfully to stifle it before setting down her instrument once more and taking another drink. Her eyes linger on the stain now bared on the apprentice's shirt, and she glances over him again above the edge of her mug. "Better get that in the wash before that purple sets in beyond all hope," she notes, clearing her throat. "Trying to find another way to keep warm before you arrived?"

Alwyn snickers inwardly and shakes his head, "Oh - that happened yesterday. I brought two bottles as a gift and one broke in my bag. I have a feeling that I'm just going to have a half-stained shirt for a while." He takes the last few sips of his mug and up-ends it to get the last few drops. "As soon as I get settled I probably need to wash everything I own," he pauses to sniff himself and adds, "…and myself as well." The newcomer reaches for a second mug of klah from a nearby tray and nods to thank the drudge who wanders through the tables to clear away the empties. "I don't want to report to the Senior Harper looking like this if I have a choice."

Kyara makes a small show of sniffing a bit before shaking her head. "No," she remarks wryly, "still can't smell much, so I won't be able to agree or disagree with you on that front. You can try cleaning up a bit, but with the rain coming so often, I doubt you'll look more than a cleaner form of muddy, to be honest." Another sip. "Not that I'm saying you shouldn't, of course." Then she looks away, rubbing her neck thoughtfully. "You know, I'm not sure Igen has a Senior Harper. You and I are the only harpers about that I know of at the moment. I've sent a message to the Hall to let the Masterharper know of my…presence here, now, at Igen…and one of the weyrwomen knows I'm here (I think), but other than that, I haven't noticed a Senior anywhere around here. And believe me, I've been looking." She shakes her head a bit before looking back to the still-thawing newcomer. "I think things are still getting figured out around here. So many of us coming forward, so much excitement happening among those already here… It has to be maddening for those in charge."

Alwyn hrms and nods a bit, "Interesting. Would you point out that weyrwoman so that I can bug her as well? I mean - I'd hate for her to be denied the opportunity to be bothered by both Harp-*SNEEZE*.Ah-Sneeze*" And he didn't really get turned to the side as much as he might like. Well, he did but he just ended up sneezing on the back of some guy who was passing by their chairs. With a look of shock and a bit of embarrassment he turns back to Kyara and ruffles a square of cloth out from his jacket to wipe his nose. "Do you know if I'll be assigned to the Apprentice Quarters or if I would have a chamber of my own since there are so few Harpers?" He glances to the guitar in the woman's hand and then to her hands before his sapphire-like eyes flick up to her face to ask, "You've been playing a while…something that you've had more opportunity to work on since you can't sing as well right now. What's your specialty?"

With a sympathetic smirk, Kyara grabs the nearest pitcher of klah and reaches across to top off the sneezing boy's mug. "I think her name is Sadaiya," she replies, offering a discreet apology to the unsuspecting target of Alwyn's sneeze. "I doubt she'd remember who I am at a glance though; I only briefly got to introduce myself to her out in the Bazaar one day. She's pretty distinctive - dusky-skinned, long, dark hair, dark eyes. That's what I remember of her, at least. I'll let you know if I see her. As to your rooms… I don't know. There are Crafter Quarters here, but I haven't asked to move in there yet. Maybe we can both go bug the Weyrleader about it at the same time." At his comment, Kyara reflexively fingers the neck of her guitar and nods. "Ever since I could hold the thing," she says, nodding. "I prefer pipes, though. I guess you could say my specialty is composing. If you hear me humming, you can safely bet I've got something new brewing up here." She taps her forehead for emphasis, bringing the instrument into her lap again. "What about you?"

"Archivist, of sorts," Alwyn begins and takes a sip of his klah after removing one of the outer layers of his winter wardrobe. The violet stain has covered the front of one of his shirts - across the chest and down one arm to the rolled cuff on his right arm. "…Well, my father was an Archivist at Benden and that's sort of what I decided to pursue." He takes a sip and sets the jacket on the sack between his feet, adjusting his posture in the chair before reaching for his mug again. "I got my eye from my mother; she can spot a patient a dragon's length away and tell them what's wrong with them before ya take your third breath."

"Your mother is a healer, too?" Kyara smiles broadly, but there's a sadness lingering around the edges of the expression. It's mostly in her eyes; she knows it and tries to hide it. "Mine is, too. Or was…hm." She shakes her head as though trying to straighten her thoughts. "I'm not sure the right way to say it. Coming from another time has made it a little confusing." She looks at the apprentice sheepishly, hoping her eyes aren't watering too much. "I'm sorry. Your…your mother sounds like a very talented woman."

Alwyn smiles a bit - though it's probably nothing to do with how the woman is reacting to the memories of her mother. "…A different…time?" It's as though something about the girl was being confirmed - something nearly unconscious. He just wants to hear her say it. "Do you have anything of your Mothers that you keep with you? A keepsake or perhaps a portrait?" He asks with an obvious plan in mind - you can nearly see it in his eyes.

Her fingers drift automatically to the pearly blue seashell pendant that hangs from the fine silver chain around her neck. "Well…" she answers quietly, her eyes seeming to drift to somewhere - somewhen - unseen…a good memory that brings the smile back for a moment. "…this…wasn't hers exactly, but she found the shell and had this made for me. I never take it off." Suddenly, Kyara notices something in the harper boy's eyes that snaps her back to the present. She isn't fully certain why, but her guard goes up a bit. This boy…she's only just met him. Why tell him this? Why does he want to know? Well, just ask him then, girl. Blinking, she finishes what's in her mug and reaches for the pitcher to refill it. "Why do you ask?"

Alwyn reaches to his satchel and withdraws a large, hard-backed book. Offering it to the woman he explains, "Open it…" Assuming that she does, Kyara would find at least a dozen or so charcoal sketches of various people - some obviously are riders, crafters and other weyrfolk probably from Benden. As the pages continue the portraits of the people shift. There's a bit more 'rough around the edges' look to them . One man's slumped at the front of a cart; another is caught in mid-laugh with a mug in his hand as though he were frozen in time at some tavern. "…because you can see her again… if you like."

Raising an eyebrow, Kyara takes the offered book. Carefully, she opens it, and her eyes widen. Sketches…charcoal, but surprisingly detailed. They're magnificent. She leafs through them silently and slowly for a long moment, letting the images tell her of a place she's never been - past or present. There's life to them, even though they're just sketches. She hasn't seen work like this in a very long time. "They're wonderful," she manages at last. "This… You drew these?"

Alwyn nods, "Yup. Anything and everything I see…and some things I've not seen but that's not important." He gives the woman's face a glance-over once more and asks, "Who do you get your looks from, your mother or your father? Wait…you have a lot of your dad in you - don't you?" With a sip at his mug he lets the woman browse through his art and then lets out a brief sigh with a faint scratch to his hair. "So…anyone you can describe - anyone you've ever…left. They're not gone. Not by a long-shot."

"I…" Kyara trails off, her head subtly shaking every now and then as she continues flipping almost gingerly through his work. She feels his eyes on her again and glances sidelong at him, finding him examining her face, and quickly looks back down. For some reason, she finds his scrutiny a bit embarrassing, and it comes out in a laugh after he asks about whom she takes after in appearance. He's right, and she nods at his guess. Almost reverently, she closes the book and simply looks at him for a moment. "You have an incredible gift, Alwyn," she says, almost too quietly. "I…I'd easily pay all the marks I've got for what you can do. A picture of my mother…" The thought brings tears to her eyes this time, and she quickly blinks them back, almost frustrated. She hates getting emotional in front of people, especially those she doesn't know well. "I wouldn't ask you for one now. It's too soon. But if you'd be willing… I'll ask you for one. I just need some time before I actually can."

Alwyn reaches out to take the sketchbook from the woman and, taking a moment, he places his hand 'accidentally' against hers as though it was no accident. "Whenever you're ready," he offers with a maturity to his voice that shouldn't be there. "For now…," he tucks the book back into his satchel and leans back in the chair, "…why don't you tell me the low-down on this place? You've been here for a while and I've learned that if you want to know what's going on - find a Harper." Ok, so he's not really subtle about shifting the subject to something less personal. What do you do when someone's having a day that's a cheery as the weather? Klah and gossip!

Kyara accepts the shift in conversation gratefully, stretching in her chair with a laugh. "The 'low-down,' hm? What I know of it, anyway. Let's see… There was a double gold flight just a day before I got here, and there's still some aftershocks happening from that- oh, hold on." A familiar figure saunters in from the Bowl, another not-as-familiar face following close behind. "Actually," she tells Alwyn as she waves to the newcomers, "there's someone I'd like you to meet. Much better at this than I am. Hello, Webley! Come join us!"

Pouring again at Igen, Webley looks none-too-pleased as he glides in from the bowl. Miraculously unmuddy, some people seem to be able to go to the dirtiest places without accumulating any filth, and the merchant is one of them. He's pouring his mug of klah when he hears his name, looking up his head pivots in that direction, "Hmmm…" Is considered quietly, as he takes his mug o' wake up and slides into a seat at the hearth. "Hello, love." Sip. "OooO…" A little hot. Setting it on the table his scarf is unwrapped, and wrung out, "Who is your friend, love?" A little wink for the man he doesn't know, "Webley, I own 'The Night Flight'." In the bazaar, everyone knows of Igen's bazaar, and The Flight is well known as one of the most stylish, and expensive, stores there.

Aaron comes in from the rain too, though he's muddied from his shins down. His cloak gets hung on a handy peg inside the cavern entrance to dry, and he runs fingers through his soaked hair to at least get it out of his eyes. Hearing Webley being Webley, he chuckles. Gathering munchies first, then klah, the massive Smith sits down nearby. "Webley, even if you hadn't told him, he'd've known inside a sevenday." Such love. ;)

Ravene is busily bustling apprentices with hot food from kitchen to sideboard, and then shooing them back to the kitchens again. Sadly, the sideboard is bereft of any of Ravene's stuffed breads, but she's made up for it with other baked goods. When the last of the apprentices have disappeared, she pours a mug of klah and fills a bowl with stew. "Sharding idiot apprentices," she grumbles, finding a place to sit.

Alwyn peers behind them and turns in his chair to spy at the people she's indicating. Standing from his chair, he has a thick wintery coat splayed on the back rest and, oddly enough, appears to have had a cup of wine thrown at his chest recently. The chest and most of the right arm of his is once-white shirt has been stained violet. Though not wet it's clear that the stain isn't coming out anytime soon. His body tenses as his bright blue eyes dart over the two figures as though he were scanning the page in some large book; his mind screaming for details about their personality, their life and, more importantly, their function within the Weyr. At Webley's question he bows to the man, the bow his mother taught him 'when meeting people for the first time’. "Alwyn," he begins, "Apprentice to the Harpers and just arrived."

The new arrival is vaguely familiar…another face from the Bazaar, perhaps? Kyara acknowledges the big, green-eyed man with a nod and then turns back to Alwyn, regarding the apprentice's bow with a small, lopsided smile. Older than his age, this one. So far, at least. "Yes, two of us, now," she quips after another sip of klah. "What's this Weyr going to do with us?" Noticing a woman she's not seen before sitting nearby, she gestures. "There's room here, if you'd like to be closer to the hearth," she offers. It seems a good day for meeting new people. She looks back again, this time to the man that came in Webley's wake. "I'm Kyara," she says, offering her hand. "I don't know if we've met."

"No need for bows, I'm no ranker." Webley flutters his long lashes at the teen, however the clothier does manage to 'tsk' a little over the stain. "What happened there, darlin'?" Slender digit flits out toward the stain, because formalities have no place in Webley's aggressive charm. Emerald clad legs cross at the knee, smiling at Aaron as he sits, "I like people know to who they are dealing with, suga'." Cause, he's kinda of a big deal. Or not. Elbow settled on the armrest of his chair, and his palm flips up in the air as he turns to Kyara. "Tell me, love, how are you settling in?"

Prineline is looking a little rough around the edges as the day stretches towards its apex. Red nose looks angry and chapped, and in between sniffles and stuffy snorts, a wadded up bit of blue hankerchief appears to pat and wipe. Slightly hunched with a crate held in both arms, the Headwoman enters the cavern with a loud sneeze. She shuffles forward, looking decidedly miserable, which is usually an exceptionally good time to get out of her way. Sniffle. Hack. Achoo.

Seeing Ravene walk out of the kitchens, Aaron reaches into a pocket, producing first a pair of /very/ shiny scissors, and then a rather large flask. Holding both the items in one hand, he lifts said hand and rattles them to get the Baker's attention. Booze and sharp things, a wonderful combination! The big man sets the shears on the table and pops the flask open, pouring some of the clear liquid inside into his mug. "I'm Aaron," the big man says, taking Kyara's offered hand. Turning back to Webley, he grins. "You mean warn them who they're dealing with?" He's teasing, and it's obvious. Prineline is spotted, and the sneeze gets a raised eyebrow from him. Awwwww, shardit. This won't be pleasant for anyone. He stands up and walks over, taking the crate from the Headwoman. "Where do you want it?"

A small smile is given to the harper, even as a slight glare is thrown at the kitchen entrance. "Thank you," she says, moving to sit with the small group. Then, "Excuse me one moment," she says, heading for the kitchen. "Liesan!" and she's gone for a bit. When Ravene returns it's with an apprentice in tow. "Help the headwoman, and do /not/ irritate her if you can avoid it," is snapped at the boy. Then she's back and turned to watch the apprentice. Liesan, for his part, has carefully approached the headwoman, "Ma'am, can I help you with that?" A nervous look, and the boy is prepared to flee if need be. Ravene's relieved that the boy has at least remembered his manners, "You're a life saver, Aaron," she says as she reseats herself at the table.

Alwyn glances down to his shirt and then, with the faint flicker of a smile, looks back up to the merchant and offers, "I brought some gifts from my home at Benden. One of them opened up in my bag yesterday while I was on the road. And…actually…" He bends to undo the flap covering the top of his duffle and fishes inside for a moment before pulling out a bottle of what would appear to be wine. The cork has been replaced with something close to a wooden stopper that's been waxed in place to prevent it from leaking. There's probably two-thirds left in it as he puts it on the table for people to see. "Benden Brandy…" he explains. "My brother said that I should open a bottle with the first friends that I make when I arrive and…well, you're all the first people that I've met, so can I offer you a bit of my home?"

Prineline's sneeze draws Webley's attention. "Oh, someone should help her. Aaron you are…" He was going to say a giant, but the man has already taken care of it. "Headwoman, come have a seat, that apprentice can deal with it, no use you dying a cold." Fingers are waggled at a seat across from him. No use in him dying of a cold either. Alwyn's offer brings a mischievous smirk from the merchant. "Brother said, eh? Oh, I do think I like him." Gliding up from his seat, he wafts to where the glasses are, and returns with an arm full. "I think this is enough, yes? I'd hate for you to disappoint your brother. Now darlin', are you from wine country, or did you yank this from your parents before you left?"

Prineline is watery-eyed and stuffy. She squints at Aaron and her claws attach to the crate as she pulls back weakly. "No. Shardit. Gittoff." But, of course, another sneeze, and her tired, achy limbs give way and the burly Smith has her crate. As for the 'helpful' Liesan; one very loooong glare, followed by a near-lunge has the kid shooting back into the kitchen. Prineline growls and glares up at Aaron. "The stores, you bloody simpleton. Where do you think I'm taking it?" Sneeze. Angry mutter. Sniffle. Sick Prineline is a peach. Webley is given a look. She has things to do. Can't you see thhackitycoughsnerkat?!

Kyara laughs, shaking her head. "You're not going to have much of that left at this rate," she observes, taking up her guitar and strumming out a few brisk chords. She glances around at the new faces, committing them to memory as best she can. "Let's see," she muses aloud as another sneeze from beyond the group at the hearth catches her attention. "Hm. Between me, Alwyn, and the Headwoman there, we may be at risk for an outbreak. Best pass that brandy around, Alwyn! It might save the lot of us."

Ravene chuckles as the apprentice runs back to the kitchen. "Well that wasn't really unexpected," said to no one in particular. "Shards, what's he doing?" The cook has come out and is waving a menu, and as he approaches Ravene is up and moving to intercept. "I'll handle this matter later. Don't you have some stew or something to tend?" she asks, sending the young man back to the kitchen. Menu is tucked into a pocket of her apron, as she slips into the kitchen.

Alwyn smiles, produces a knife from his left bracer and starts to cut through the candle wax that was used to seal the makeshift cork. "My family lived at the weyr, and my father…wouldn't miss this." Once the cork has been cut and the bottle ready to be poured, he reaches into his satchel for that orange glass bottle that he lent Kyara just a few moments ago. Ignoring basically everyone near his chair he weaves his way through the tables until he can stand beside the woman Prineline and offers her the fist-sized bottle. Thick-walled and heavy by the sound of it as it's placed on the table, Alwyn explains, "Ginger-root extract. My mother's tonic for…well…everything it seems that you have." Without waiting for an answer - a response or even a by-your-leave, he walks…no…slinks back through the tables and chairs as effortlessly as though he grew up in a tavern. "Oh - that's not the only bottle I brought with me. It's just the one that opened." As the bottle is passed around to fill up the glasses, he tries to make sure that everyone who's gathered has a taste of his home.

Aaron takes the crate and wanders back to his seat, setting it down beside him. It'll get down to the storeroom, but he wants some of that brandy first. "Siddown, Headwoman, or I'll pour some of my 'shine into you." And that's a valid threat from him. And when he has that brandy, he waits for everyone else to get some, then grins. "To newcomers, I suppose!" And down it goes. Mmmmm, booze.

Prineline's look brings a sympathetic frown to Webley's face, but it is Aaron's movement away from where he was that makes him raise an eyebrow. His lips pull down in a frown as if to say, 'Ballsy, man'. His own glass of brandy is procured, and he twirls it a bit in the glass, examining. Ah yes, the good stuff. Thusly approved, at least by look, the man takes a sip. And with a raised glass to the new harper apprentice at the weyr he winks, "Not bad, harper, not bad at all." An appreciative smile. "How long have you been a harper, darlin?"

Prineline is feeling a little dizzy anyway, so maybe she will sit down. But she's sitting because she wants to sit. Not because any of these good-for-nothing plebians decided for her. And certainly not because that annoying not-going-to-the-stores-like-she-told-him-to-Smith ordered it. She sits down, close to the hearth and bundles herself into her ivory shawl with a miserable little hiccup. One hand raises to pat at her swollen throat as if she could press the virus out of her. As for a tonic, she is skeptical. She peers at the bottle, red and runny nose nearly pressed against the glass as she assesses the likelihood that some stranger is serving her poison. Since there is a glass apparently provided, the Headwoman pours two fingers worth and shoots it back wholesale. She makes a face and then slowly, ever so slowly, puts her head down; forehead hits the tabletop with a light thud. There's a snuffly gurgly noise, but Prineline remains unmoving.

Aaron isn't ballsy, it's just that there's delicious booze to be had. He picks his flask back up and hands it towards Alwyn with a wicked grin. "Here, that's our, well my, little contribution to your welcome party. Try some." He eyes Prine for a moment, making sure she's still breathing. Colds are evil, but fortunately he hasn't caught one. Yet.

Kyara listens with one ear for Alwyn's response to Webley's questions, re-tuning her guitar with the other. The harper boy can't be older than her, certainly…though he acts it. Much as she tends to put on an older face, herself. The thud from the table grabs her attention, and she blinks at the suddenly somnolent headwoman. This could be a situation either comical or dire. Hopefully, it's nothing to worry about. Much. "Erm…is she going to be alright?" Kyara ventures.

Aaron looks at Kyara and shrugs. "I guess that depends on whether your new friend poisoned her or not. She's still breathing, and even as stubborn as she can be, I'd hope she'd at least take a day off." He's keeping an eye on the headwoman, though.

Alwyn turns to Prineline and explains, "I've been apprenticed for…four years now," he pauses to count as though it's been forever ago that he got his knot. Accepting Aaron's offering of a bit of 'home brew', he takes a small sniff of the mix before taking about half of it in a gulp. Yup…ballsy - or stupid. The two are close cousins.

"What did you do?" Webley snaps up, his finger is accusingly pointed at Alwyn. "Headwoman?" The willowly man arcs over toward the face bent woman, though a curious look is given to the young harper who addresses a question to the comatose woman. "You all right, headwoman?" More glares for the boy.

Prineline stirs, a little, and watery-squints at the group at large. She will find whoever got her sick and she will kill them. Everyone will understand. She will make it slow, and painful. Small slivers and citrus juice will be involved. After a long, long look at Aaron to convey the necessity that he eventually follow through on his intentions with her create, Prineline finds the energy to push herself back into a standing position only after Webley comes over. She turns to him just as she coughs—directly on him. "It is fine. I'b fine. Bake sure that… that… Aaron gets by crate to the stores." She blows her nose and grumbles to herself. "Webley. If I don't bake it till toborrow… kill hib." The 'hib' (or, you know, 'him') she is referring to here is Alwyn. And with that, the Headwoman starts a slow, measured, shuffle-stop-shuffle-wheeze step further into the Weyr.

Alwyn shakes his head, "It's just a winter tonic…or was it the sleeping potion," he offers with a fair bit of smirk to his voice. Turning to the woman he asks, "I gave you the blue bottle, right?" He's trying to be as serious as he can - trying to hold onto the moment.

Webley is coughed on, coughed, he manages to suppress a gag, though his head pulls back and his eyes close. Prineline's orders are taken with a nod, and a hand on one hip, commanding glares given first to Aaron and the crate, and then Alwyn and his potion of death. "With pleasure, headwoman," is cooed softly before she shuffles off. Falling gracefully back into his seat on a couch, his arms and legs fly upward, and fall on to the fabric with a sigh. "This really is good brandy," he says, slender fingers wrapping around the stem of his glass as if nothing happened. "You old enough to be drinking this stuff?" One eye slides open as he studies the boy again.

The harper girl sets her guitar aside once more, unfolding the leg she's had tucked up beneath her as she watches the headwoman for a moment, then flicks her gaze from Aaron to Webley to Alwyn. Kyara knows her slightly younger counterpart is joking, but are the other men going to play along…or make Alwyn regret sharing his brandy? Ah, no. All is well. At least Webley's hackles seem to have settled again. She takes her own sip of brandy and smiles subtly. Much nicer than the stuff from the orange bottle.

Aaron arches an eyebrow at poor Webley's expression at getting hacked on, rather glad that he was out of range. "Don't give me your sass, Webley. You know I'll take care of Priney." Okay, now he's just being an ass. He eyes Alwyn, wondering how the boy's going to react to downing a good six ounces of pure moonshine. Shooting Kyara a grin, he doesn't mention the usual…proscription against apprentices drinking.

Alwyn shakes his head and offers a smile to Aaron and then a wobbly glance to Webley. Yup, wobbly. Slowly and with as much dignity as he can, the young Harper apprentice slowly lowers himself to a chair next to his duffle bag. "What…that wasn't water," he comments with a shake of his head.

Webley, whose head is lying in the direction of the smith's chair, tilts his head back so he can see the eyeroll he gives him. "Oh great, suga', you've gotten the boy drunk." The boy in question, Alwyn, gets only the slightest sway of his head. "You really shouldn't just drink anything someone gives you. I would think you of all people would know that. After what you just did to the headwoman of this weyr." Eyebrow raised beneath a wink, talk about mixed messages. "That, my dear, was an entirely different kind of poison. The kind where you wake up the next morning next to a hairy woman whose name you don't remember." Perhaps not great conversation for children, but Webley has never been good with kids.

Alwyn blinks. He gulps. His face, already pale from the winter weather and from the long journey, becomes somehow less colorful at the realization that he just met the headwoman. "I just…oh Shards," and he gasps as though he just caught himself cursing in front of adults and he knew, somehow, that his mother was going to hear about it. Wait…he's not home anymore. His mother is a thousand miles away. The realization of his newly-found freedom of speech seems to warm him up a little, but not before he remembers that he just walked up and offered a gift to the Headwoman without so much as a bow or introduction. Oozing across the nearest table, he sets his wine-stained arm up on the surface to support his head as he looks from Aaron to Webley to Kyara. "My head feels weird… I should draw someone."

Kyara gives Aaron a smirk that wrinkles her nose, shaking her head before turning to watch the apprentice carefully. Perhaps it's because she was the first person he met here, or because she's a journeyman in the same craft as him, but she gets the feeling she's going to end up making sure the boy wakes up in the morning. "What say we get some real water into you, hmm?" she says, rising to find a glass and some actual water. "Maybe a bit of food, too."

Aaron chuckles and takes his flask back, capping it and sliding it into a pocket. Aaron stands up again, and picks the crate up easily. "Probably not a bad idea, feeding the boy a little. I've gotta get going, I'm sure I'll see you all around." He wanders off into the inner caverns, destined for the storage rooms.

"Yes, because when I'm feeling good what I think is, hey I'd like to draw someone. Now if you added naked in there somewhere, it would be what a normal drunk person would say." Webley eyes the journeyman harper with a shrug. If she isn't going to discipline him it's not of the storeowner's concern. "No, no, love. Let's see what he draws in this state. Maybe the smith's jug is his muse." Aaron gets a parting waggle of fingers. "What do you say, get the boy some paper?" After all if he isn't in trouble for drinking, much less getting himself in a state, why not have fun with it?

Alwyn looks over to Kyara as she wanders to get him some water and then to the backside of the man who offered him the fakewater and then back. "Who was that guy? You know…I should probably tell someone he got an Apprentice…wow…my nose feels weird. It's all numb and tingly now." Turning to Webley he smirks a bit too loudly - one of those moments where his snerk finds the silence in every other conversation in the room so it seems to echo a bit too loudly… And he starts to get the giggles. "You make it sound like I've never drawn someone naked. Feh. I've drawn plenty of people naked before - they just were wearing clothes at the time."

The lithe man stands, unfolding slowly. "He doesn't give his own apprentices booze, and you should know better." Lashes draw down in a wink, as a finger is twirled through the air. His smile is easy, but he is clearly bored with his game. Scarf is spun around his head, and knotted with a practiced twist. "See ya round, darlin'. Come see me if you have the coin to replace that shirt." One end of the scarf is tossed over his shoulder as he takes a single long-legged stride away, turning, "Good luck with that hang over." And then he’s drifting through the crowds and out into the bowl.

In spite of herself, Kyara is laughing aloud. She sets down a glass of water and a meat roll in Alwyn's vicinity as Webley walks away, quieting back down quickly as she realizes a point the merchant made. Apprentices…shouldn't be drinking. Generally speaking. She rubs her face in frustration. Well, at least there isn't a Senior about to call either of them on the carpet for it. "Hey, Alwyn?" She places a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Please, drink that. All of it. And eat. We'd better see if we can find you a cot."

Alwyn reaches up for the glass of water and starts to drink - and drink - and drink. It's as though the boy's throat was suddenly dry and parched and he didn't know it. "What was it that he gave me to drink? It was…water, right?" The meat rolls, at least two of them, are gobbled up as quick as you like. So much traveling and he's just now found his new home. "I…should get a bath first. It should help my head…I think." Fuzzy vision and a weird taste in the back of his mouth starts to convince the young Harper that alcohol is something that he should steer clear of.

"Yes, it's water, I promise," she answers with a chuckle. As Alwyn polishes off the meat rolls, she gathers together the glasses left around by the others…without knowing quite where to put them. She sets them in a cluster near the end of the table; at least they won't be all over the place when the drudges come by. When the boy mentions a bath, she scratches her head. "I suppose…the Baths would be the place for that. Of course, the rain might clean you off just as well on the way." She scratches her head, looking between her guitar, the apprentice, and his belongings - such as they are. How is this going to work? Kyara sighs, once again wondering why she feels the need to watch out for him at all. "Look, if it's anything like what happened when I first got here, there's an extra cot in the Resident Terraces you can use. You'll be holed up there with me and a bunch of others, and the Baths are near there. Let's start by heading that direction, alright?"

Alwyn nods and presses himself to his feet with obvious effort and bends over to grab his duffle, which wasn't a very good idea. Once he has his sack over his shoulder, he gathers up his coat and whatever else he may have brought with him. With a quick slink - though that was as wobbly as he's walked since his first riding lesson - over to the table to fetch the orange bottle from earlier, he staggers to follow Kyara towards the Baths. "So… not bad for my first day…" he comments, and the two go in search of a cot.

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