==== January 2, 2014
==== Nora, Th'seus, Yules
==== Yules subjects Nora and Theezy to her stinky Ocelot jacket.

Who Nora, Th'seus, Yules
What Yules subjects Nora and Theezy to her stinky Ocelot jacket.
When There are 0 turns, 3 months and 24 days until the 12th pass.
Where Living Cavern, Southern Weyr

Nora7.png Th%27seus21.jpg Yulena2.jpg


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Living Cavern
Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophobia. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the Weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.


It's early Spring in Southern, but some things don't vary much with the seasons: Thread is coming, Southern is weird, and Ocelot wing trains in all weather. At (almost) all times. This means that its wingriders are taking meals when they can. Today, Yules is sitting at a table, alone, her Ocelot wingmates giving her teasing but comforting catcalls from nearby - the new kid on the block, Yules received a jacket last night that drapes on the chair next to her, and… smells a little. Or a lot. It depends on how good your nose is. Still, Yules is eating heartily and slurping klah like someone said the supply is going to be cut in 15 miutes. Chomp chomp, smile-sneer at Ocelot - someone forgot to mention to them that ex-cooks have wonderful ways of getting their own back.

Smells of what? New leather or is there some kind of hazing going on here? Either way, it's probably not the first thing Nora notices as she swings around the corner of the table with a sway of her black skirt to sink into the seat across from Yules. "Hi," she greets simply, no apology for interrupting the solitude, though with the Ocelot riders nearby, perhaps that's not what the newly-knotted rider had anyway. "You don't mind, do you?" she's expecting a 'no' for an answer, setting her plate of hash and salad down, uncurling the fork from her palm, lifting her mug of tea for a first drink. "Your new wing?" she guesses with a tip of her head toward the noisy table.

Yules looks up from her seat near, but not at, the Ocelot table, with a bemused expression and a full mouth. Nora apparently has the knack. Yules chews a few more times to avoid choking, swallows noisily, and finishes with a swig of klah. Only then can she honestly say, "Hi, Headwoman." The 'assistant' is too many syllables when there's food to be et. A nod over at Ocelot who have quieted but are still grinning at their newest member, "That's them." The hand that's not surreptitiously trying to shove a stick of food into Yules goes to pat the leather jacket next to her, "I received this last night and decided to wear it this morning." Did you know that, sweating in something smelly will make it even smellier? Yules does now, "The wing asked me politely," and with a lot of cheery side-commentary from Desmeth, "to sit a little further away if I was going to wear it." That gets a shrug of obvious uncaring, "But it's my jacket now, so I'll wear it if I please!" Hmph and all that.

Are people cooking… leather down here in the caverns now? Th'seus knows the quality of food isn't always perfect in a mass production like this, but come on. Or maybe it's just body odor and Yules really needs to get that thing cleaned. Unaware of its source, he unintentionally wanders near the pair of women and takes a seat. With a roll stuffed in his mouth there's just a silent request to join them as he gestures and then sits. But he's staring at the young brownrider even as he wrinkles his nose and begins to chew around the mouthful of bread.

"Is that…" Nora peels the tea from her lips, which have pressed firmly together now. "The smell? Yules, you know you can have that… taken care of. Is it just the lining or is it in the leather?" She's eyeing the offending jacket, mouth pinched and fork not at all quick to dig in to her meal. "Maybe the jacket should go sit outside." A suspicious eye is about to turn toward the Ocelot table but it finds Th'seus instead, and there's maybe a bit of 'at your own risk' in her expression when she nods that he can join. "If you're wearing it to spite them," she considers to Yules. "I'm not sure they're really experiencing the full… waft of it."

And now there's Th'seus! Yules salutes him with a piece of meatroll in her mouth and a mug of rapidly emptying klah in her hand. Swallow. "Sir. Good morning." Is it? Really? As to where the scent is coming from, Yules isn't sure: "I think the worst of it is in the pits," a little shrug, "But you can get the smell cleaned out?" A look is shot at Ocelot, who is behaving themselves now - why didn't they think of that? (Answer: Because that's not the point) "I'm wearing it because it's my jacket," and stubborness trumps smell any time, right? "Sooner or later, the smell will fade. Especially if I can get it cleaned." Is Yules getting the gist? Who knows, in her head.

"That jacket smells like shit." Th'seus finally says once he clears that chunk of bread down into his stomach. "Afternoon. Yules. Headwoman." Because assisant is too many syllables for him too, especially when he's reaching for his glass of juice and taking a generous swallow of it. "I'd go with 'sooner' rather than later. You should take that thing down to the laundry caverns and see what they can do for you. Otherwise there's some weaver wandering around, maybe you can talk to him about it. Or get another jacket. Don't we have any of those things in stores? We must. Even if it's a size too big or something."

"You have soap for cleaning your straps, right? That would probably work. If it's the liner, though, you could have it replaced." Problem-solving, it's Nora's favorite hobby. And also, she'll point out, "You're not wearing it," with a naughty little smirk before she so bravely attempts to eat a forkful of salad despite the aroma. She nods along with all of Th'seus' suggestions, all good as well. Better than the mix of salad dressing and leather-funk. It has her eye narrowing at the Ocelot table again, retribution brewing. "Which one of them gave you that jacket?"

Yules wrinkles her nose, half agreement, half hmphing at Th'seus' candid observation, "I just got it yesterday," or time that seems to slide into itself, "Haven't had much time to do anything with it." Still, she adds more respectful words, "I will have it looked at, though." Yules shrugs at Nora, "It's warm in here." A wave to all the people, "Not as warm as the kitchens were, but warm enough that I don't need to wear it inside," and that tone of relief spells Yules' contentment with that situation. "El'ai gave it to me. V'dean was witness." Just so this doesn't get much further, Yules cranes her neck to see… "Neither of them are here right now," she says finally. Yules is down to the klah now, and lets a curiously benign grin spread over her face, "I have a wing-welcoming present for them too." No, nothing too aromatic, "I started making that klah spice again. I think they'll enjoy it." Totally benign.

Benign and a half, she's so benign.

The smell doesn't seem to dissuade the bronzerider from eating, he digs into his plate with his fork. His time spent between commentary is consumed by putting as much food into his mouth as possible. And swallowing. Sometimes he chews once or twice. "Your wingmates gave you that jacket?" He looks past Yules to the Ocelot riders beyond her. "…El'ai gave it to you?" That prompts one of Th'seus' eyebrows to jump up. "That nice, sweet kid gave you a jacket that smells like-" Well, he won't get into it. "Maybe the other one put him up to it." His expression is skeptical as he takes a swig of his juice and glances over at Nora, watching her expression.

Nora is still half-staring toward the Ocelot table, musing while she chews another blindly delivered mouthful. "Hazing," she says for Th'seus's benefit, not that he hasn't already come to that conclusion for himself. But with the discovery that no one currently present is at fault for the stink, she returns attention to her meal, to a quick swallow of tea. "Doesn't sound like him," she'll say for 'the other one'. She can't speak to El'ai. "Sometimes it's the sweet ones you have to look out for, Theezy." She'll punctuate that with a wink, both the sentiment and the coining of that horrendous (awesome) nickname. And even though Yules surely means something not benign in her very benign mentioning the spice now, Nora wonders, "Oh, is that the stuff they put in the muffins sometimes? I like that. It's definitely a 'start the day with your eyes open' kind of flavor."

"No, no," Yules says, "V'dean and I were talking before El'ai came in." Ergo. Yules is triumphant in her defense of the bluerider, though El'ai is less defensible, since he gave it to her after all. Who goes around giving jackets with Eau de Q'fex-pit afterall? Surely such a smelly act is the sign of a deviously devious mind. Hazing can go both ways, but Yules is happy to discuss this new topic, "Klah spice? Er, I don't think so…" which is just evidence that Yules has changed: "It's a little spice mixture that you add to klah, it makes it a bit… spicy." Yules is happily licking her lips at the thought of it, "I've started mixing it again, now that I have my own weyr, and no one in the Barracks can complain about the smell anymore." Irony alert! Her face darkens slightly at the very idea, "Unless they're using it in the muffins…" She's probably upset she didn't think of it first. Still, for all that, Yules doesn't miss that: "Theezy?" she wonders with an eye on the wingleader for reaction.

"Thanks. Is 'hazing' what they're calling it these days? You kids." Th'seus drawls back to Nora with amusement over his half-filled glass. Because you know, she's so much younger than him and everything. He's practically an ancient old man compared to Yules over there too. There's a moment where he just closes his eyes at the nickname 'Theezy'. "Don't even start that. It'll never go away. Theezy." Which is likely the point. At the mention of muffins however, he gets distrac remembers he's got one of those on his plate. "Mmmm. Muffin." And so it goes into his mouth. He's a bottomless pit. "Wait- Did the jacket smell when El'ai gave it to you? Or did it smell after you took it to your secret klah spice milling weyr that I'm going to assume reeks?"

"Too late," Nora beams, entirely too pleased with herself. "It's started. You love it. Theezy. Blame your mother and your dragon, I've only taken things to their natural conclusion: Theezy." Let's say it again. The warmth breadth of a smirk might soften any, you know, your-mom insults; the way her fork fiddles in her hash is totally innocent. And then it points at Yules. "That is a good point. Are you sure the spice isn't… augmenting this delightful smell?" She scrunches her face in distaste. "Oh, don't ruin it. Now every time they make those muffins, I'll think of old leathery armpit grease." In fact, maybe she doesn't want to eat that hash. Maybe she'll just stick to the greens.

You know who also may have heard that nickname? There's a sudden hush over at Ocelot table, though at least no one's snickering over there, so maybe they didn't overhear that. Yules is sitting right across from the man, so she's quite willing to let sleeping dragons lie, jumping instead to the defense of her home-made klah spice, "It doesn't smell bad! It's just a bit… powerful. You know, grinding the spices releases a lot of the smell anyway." Yules pats down the side of her own pants, but huffs, "I don't have any on me right now, but I can definitely get some for you," and a chin jut is to Nora and Th'seus..zy. Anyways, onto new things: "Sooo how are things in the Lower Caverns?" That's to Nora, of course, but then a suddenly skewed look at Th'seus: "Has Lynx picked up any Weyrlings?"

Nora is given a narrowed eyed look. He's going to remember this later on, someday. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next seven. But someday. That's when he'll get his revenge. "Yeah it releases the smell right into that jacket." The bronzerider gestures at it with a thick finger before shooting a look over at the Ocelot table. Nothing like picking up a totally delightful and awful nickname. "We picked up a few, yes. Just tapped D'cen yesterday, actually. I like him. A little off-beat. But seems reliable." Off-beat is probably being polite given how outright geeky the young man is.

The patting raises one of Nora's fine brows, "So I can do what? Wear it like a perfume? Or.. a deterrent?" She's teasing, perhaps more about her lack of kitchen skills than, okay no, maybe the deterrent thing isn't particularly flattering. But it's still just teasing, or so promises the flash of her smile. She just gives a shrug and the wave of her fork for the state of the caverns, "The usual. It's unending," and is content to listen to talk of wing tapping while she finally gets around to trying the hash, only to discover it's gone a bit cold. "He's a little stiff," she'll suppose for D'cen's off-beatness. Does she eye Th'seus's plate? Is there anything left on it? "Do you want this?" she wonders, fork pointed at her cool mash of potato and various other stuff.

Yules waves an inconsiderate hand, "At least my klah spice tastes nicely later." Anyone want to lick an armpit to test this? Yules is happy to laud D'cen before anyone can ask for a comparison: "Oh, wonderful!" There's nothing hidden in Yules' grin now, "He's thoughtful and dependable. And compared to some of the other Weyrlings," no names mentioned but she's talking about you, D'tri, E'don, Maosa, "D'cen is pretty normal. He'll do you good." Speaking of wings, the knot of riders at the Ocelot table is starting to break up. One of them calls, "Yules! We're heading out!" as he makes his way out. Yules huffs and drains the rest of her klah, "If you'll excuse me. I should go with them." She does grab her jacket and wave it at Nora a little, "I'll come by the Laundry and see if they can do anything for this." A look over at the plate in front of Nora, and Yules nabs a piece of potato: "Huh. Needs more pepper," is her verdict, but she's saluting Theezy without much of a grin… much of one, saluting Nora because she's there too, and making her way out, slinging the jacket over her shoulders, to the dismay of many. Even maybe Yules.

"A little." Th'seus will allow on the commentary of D'cen, a crooked grin crossing his face. "I think he's got his uses though." Distracted by the possibility of more food, he looks appraisingly at what's left on her plate. His is gone already, the muffin long devoured. "If you're sure that you don't want it." He'll never turn down leftovers, this is a fact. There's a lazy wave, no salute, for Yules as she makes her exit to the bowl. "I hope she walks really close to them and makes them faint from the smell. Disgusting." People can say a lot of things about his lack of fashionable style, but Theezy looks clean and smells okay pretty much all of the time.

Smells okay. That's good enough for Nora, whose wave to the departing Yules becomes a more dramatic fan at the air. "It's lingering," she grimaces. "I mean, I get wearing it just to spite them, but then you're supposed to sit with them, so they can benefit from it. Maybe that was the plan and it went awry." She'll readily give the new wingrider the benefit of the doubt. "Really, though, there are only so many ways you can get back at a person with klah." But Th'sues' urging has her taking another bite of the hash, just to be certain, and then she's sliding the plate over toward him. "It's cold," is probably supposed to be a warning, but there's little doubt that would stop him. "Do you do anything like that? Make trouble for your new riders?"

"What if they don't drink klah? I don't drink klah. If she wanted to get her revenge out on me, she'd have to try something else. It seems like a lot of effort. She should just throw bags of garbage on their ledge or something." Because that would require zero effort, naturally. He hooks the plate when it slides within reach and he begins to scoop up the cold hash with his fork. The temperature doesn't deter him, it's true. "Me? Nah." He shakes his head with a crooked grin. "I do enough to do them during drills and sweeps without giving them an extra reason to hate me. I don't think hazing makes them bond with each other better. What pranks they play in their freetime? That's on them however."

Nora lifts her tea, because it's tea and not klah. Not that it's never klah but… anyway. There's quick agreement in the bounce of her brows, and in her sip as well while Th'seus digs into the remains of her meal. "There's probably enough trouble without fabricating things," she remarks. And then a thought, "So all the weyrlings have been assigned, then? You don't happen to know where D'tri ended up, do you?" If he's even familiar with probably-infamous bronzerider. "Or what they'll do with Cerise and Jiamoth? I suppose, any wing would just be nominal for a while, but they won't be on the ground forever. Her wings still work." Or at least, they probably will if/when she tries them.

"That's what I figure. Plus, I don't need them to smell." Like he's got enough problems in this world without having a bunch of smelly new riders that he made that way. On D'tri's name, he purses his lips together and looks thoughtful. Then he gives a shake of his head. "That's Cerise's brother. But no, I don't know which wing he went into. It wasn't Lynx. Possible Ocelot might have swept him up too, I wasn't looking for that many more heavy dragons." As for the young bronzerider's ill-fated sister, he shakes his head slowly. "That's the one that I wanted. But…" He lifts his heavy shoulders in a slow shrug. "From what I've heard she's not going to be given wing-approval anytime soon. But I'm not a dragonhealer. She could end up helping in the barracks? Or in the dragon infirmary until she catches up? Not sure."

Ocelot. Nora's glance slides aside toward that recently vacated Ocelot table, though it was hardly the whole contingent of the wing, so D'tri's absence would mean little. And anyway, Th'seus' declaration of preference turns her attention back to him, a mix of surprise and wistful pride on her face as she smiles over the rim of her mug. Of course, it all goes nowhere, much like Cerise and Jiamoth. "Oh. Well, I guess it'll be a while before they're back up to full strength." 'Full' being relative. "Still, I worry about them, you know, looking forward, realizing that they aren't finished before they've even begun. It'll be good if they have something to work on." Or so Nora, the workaholic, would presume, even if she's gone a touch more quiet and thoughtful while she finishes off her tea.

"Hmm." Th'seus scrapes around the cold has on the plate, his appetite finally slowing down as he nears the dregs of Nora's meal. His own plate has been pushed aside and his drink, finished. "I don't like to think of what happened to Jiamoth as being the end of anything. Their lives are just going to be different than what they expected and really, that's not so terrible. She's smart, driven. Cerise is going to find something to focus on and dedicate herself too." He tips his head to the side, glancing across at Nora now. "I think they're past the very worst of it now. You're a good friend to worry about her." Since he's assuming they're friends, apparently.

Th'seus' encouraging words bring something rather fond to Nora's expression, a gentled kind of consideration as her glance skims over his face. "Exactly. They're both here, they're alive." A jackpot so easily overlooked. "But I haven't been able to get a straight answer out of her about the pain," which might be cause for some worry, too. "They're strong, though." And with that, with the bronzerider's praise of her friendship, Nora seeks to shake off the weighty talk with the crack of a smile and a hand reaching out along the table to flick a speck of food toward him. "That's me. I'm the best." And she's also getting up from her chair.

"Maybe she doesn't want to give one. We don't have to produce every detail of our personal struggles if we don't want to." Th'seus muses to Nora. The rest of the plate is cleaned up and he pulls the empty dishes together, making a neat pile in front of him. He grins lopsidedly when that piece of food comes flying towards him. "Lets not get too ahead of ourselves." It's a gentle tease as he watches the assistant get to her feet. It seems that though she may be leaving, he's going to hang around for awhile longer. Maybe get a second brunch. A lazy salute for her, two fingers to the forehead. "Later."

So not all of Th'seus' comments are warmly received. Nora takes his cautions with cooling of blue eyes and the tightening pinch of her lips. Perhaps it's only because she's leaving that she lets it go, or maybe the light teasing softens it all into idle chatter anyway. She sets her empty mug on his nice pile of plates — he can take care of that, too — and offers him a wry, if weakened, smile for his salute. "Later, Theezy," she agrees before she heads off.

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