Bailey, Nathanael, Ebben, Niyati


Candidates sneak in for a little egg viewing and keep a heat stricken goldrider company.


It is midmorning of the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.



OOC Date


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Stone benches rise, black and showing the lack of polish from a thousand seats — by the look of it, these have not been used in… forever, if ever indeed.

Listen, it's hot, okay? IT'S HOT. IT'S REALLY. FREAKING. HOT. So Bailey has found the draftiest corner, she has a huge glass filled with ice water, and she's hardly wearing any clothes. She looks like she's about to die. Khalyssrielth, on the Sands, just looks a little smug. Because she's a bitch. Carry on, everyone, carry on.

You know, this is a scene that has totally happened before, with the only change being the fact that this time Nathanael has a little white knot on his shoulder this time instead of that little apprentice one. And he has a tray. With pastries (they're doughnuts seriously guys) upon them STRAIGHT from Ardstelle who apparently has decided the weyr can RUN ITSELF today so she can EXPERIMENT… on Bailey. Nathanael isn't skipping, that might drop the tray, but he is looking way much too happy to be here. "Ma'am! Ma'am Bailey!"

Niyati is up early. Why? It's hot and the fact that this is the COOL part of the day doesn't bode well. So, mindful of being caught not on some sort of chore, Niyati has snagged a bowl of melon cubes and is hiding in the most obvious place ever. She ducks into the cavern and makes for the galleries only to find that she's not the only one. "You look positively miserable," is daid to Bailey, though she at least has the class to add "But at least you make misery look good." Nathanael's exhuberence is met with a wince. Really? REALLY?

"Ma'am Ardstelle made these f'r ye ma'am," And wait, no, he's suppose to like, salute right? So there is some bobbling of that tray of his so that he can sketch something out in that general shape. "'n I dono' be thinkin any've 'em've got anythin' but jelly 'n 'e centers. Tho' mayhap, she was hittin' m' hand when I was tryin' t' see." Because the dutiful candidate must TASTE TEST. The tray is slid into one of those seats near by and Nathanael makes a valiant effort to look like he doesn't want one. Oh good! Niyati is there to distract him from teenage desire to eat everything. "Hia ma'am!" Breaking him of that ma'am habit is going to take some time.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not." Bailey to Niyati, followed by a distracted, "Remember to salute." She doesn't care, obvious in the way that she gestures for the once-weaver to come join her up in this drafty corner where at least BREEZES happen. But there are salute-nazi's out there. THERE ARE. They kind of suck, if you'd ask Bailey. She eyes Nate's sloppy salute and shakes her head before PEERING at the tray. "I'm a little scared. This is going to make my pants not fit, aren't they." There is a LONG, PROTRACTED pause. "Do you want one?" she asks Nate, including Niyati in the statement with a half-smile and a hidden wink to just the other woman.

"Oh, right," Niyati at least looks truely sorry as she manages the salute while still cradling her bowl. "T'ral gave me quite the talk… or question session over those." Ebben is given a humored look but she merely shakes her head at him. "To be young and eat twice my weight every day without paying for it." She finally settles on a bench, giving Bailey breeze room and a sympathetic look. "Well, since not many can manage to look good /and/ miserable at the same time… But I wouldn't worry about gaining. As hot as it is you'll just sweat it all away. I'll just settle for my fruit. I love warm weather but even I'm hard pressed to find mid-day heat in the morning appealing."

Does he want one? Does the sun rise every morning and bring heat specifically to make Bailey miserable? The answers to these are obvious, but Nathanael doesn't go for one of those pastries. Instead he rubs the back of his hand. "Ardstelle was pretty specific sayin' these was f'r ye ma'am. If'n ye pants aren't fittin… mayhap Donatien could be makin' ye new'uns?" Problem solved. He rocks on the heels of his feet, not at seeming to settle down into something less hot like, as in, no moving. Nope. He'll just stand here and smile.

"T'ral? Oh I can only imagine," Bailey drawls in response to Niyati; "I'll save you from any more extended conversation on it." Because she only crushes souls on Tuesdays. She eyes Niyati's fruit chunks for a moment but doesn't move to steal any bits. Yet. No promises. "Nate. If you don't eat any of these I'm going to throw them to the porcines. I'm sure they'll enjoy them." Bailey has truly hit TOO HOT TO EAT, because she eyeballs the plate again: "I may throw up just looking at them. It is way too hot for sugary foods." Unless they were popcicles. Can we get some popcicles? That would be GREAT.

Niyati holds up her bowl in offering. "You know what would be marvelous? Taking some of these melons and other fruit and putting them in ground ice. Or, you know? We could get someone to bring a slab in and drill holes into it and freeze juice. Or wine and juice, if one were allowed wine." Which she isn't, because someone in the past was a jerk. "Perhaps we can add that into our shore list. Making cool foods for all of this heat. Oh, I didn't really mind it. T'ral /did/ ask some very good questions and he did show me how to peel tubers without taking forever. Nathanael, you've been /told/ to eat them by the person they were intended for. Goodness knows you're at the stage where you could eat a herdbeast and not gain one bit of weight."

Ebben shuffles on up to the galleries with a slow gait. The candidate appears tired and whether it's simply the heat or the morning spent trying to tie up some loose healer ends followed by a healthy dose of chores, we may never know. Okay. No. We know. It's all of those things. Together. Meh. But, now that he's done for the day, he figures he ought to go take another gander at those eggs, so mesmerizingly intimidating. The sound of voices alerts Ebben to the close proximity of viewers, but once he pops into view he can see a couple white knots and Bailey. Eyebrows inch upwards and he gives his curls a slight tousle before proceeding in to find a comfortable spot close enough for conversation with the small group but far enough away that none of their body heat can mingle with his own. It's. Too. Hot. Bailey gets a small salute and the Niyati a bright smile and a nose tap. She knows what for.

"That would be marvelous," Bailey wistfully remarks in regards to Niyati's idea for freezing ALL THE GOOD THINGS. "I'll have to see if Ardstelle will reallocate your chores to include experimentation with frozen goodies. Now that we have all the ice we ever want," Bailey remarks with a quirk of her lips. "T'ral… would know best the forms of etiquette, I expect." It's a very DIPLOMATIC statement. Turning her attention from the weaver-candidate, she nods once at Ebben with a murmured, "Candidate," in greeting. She watches Nate's devouring of foodstuff with abject fascination: "Where does he put it all, do you think?" murmured to Niyati, before she shakes her head. "Yes, Ebben," since that's apparently what his name is, "You should have a pastry." She eyes the plate. "Or three."

Niyati taps her leg and says "Hollow. Both of them." Ebben is given a wave as well as a look of sympathy. "Perhaps the sugar will help you get going again. The good news is that they don't appear hot, so you won't have to pause between bites." The idea of Bailey making the request is given an enthusiastic nod. "It would give us all the incentive to behave ourselves. …call it the reward chore. Who wouldn't want to stand near large amounts of ice in this heat?"

Ebben blinks as he looks down at Nathanael and… takes it in. "No shit," he says, eyeing the knot and then the boy attached to it. Catching himself in front of Bailey however is deemed immediately necessary and he dips a self-deprecating smile her way. "Sorry for the language, I just haven't seen this kid since he almost broke both our legs." And now he's a candidate. Ebben snorts, amused, before accepting the pastry. Also doesn't hurt that Bailey is enabling as well, so… munchmunchmunch.

At least it actually is pretty easy to figure out where Nathanael puts the food he eats. See how he's still rolling from foot to foot in an effort not to bounce in place. When one is in almost constant movement food goes fast. Like that second pastry which is already disappearing down his throat. Because, yes. Please. He tilts his head slightly listening to the talk between the two women. "Didn't be meanin' t' run int' ye! Just wasn't too keep on…" but wait. Bailey is there and so Nathanael shuts his lips again and decides on a safer topic of conversation. "Ain't ne'er stood next t' ice what be that big."

Bailey thoughtfully considers Niyati, then nods her approval. "Yeah, that sounds about right," she finally states. "I'll talk to Ardstelle about it." When she's not sweating BUCKETS and looking like she's going to pass out. Seriously. To Ebben, her smile is serene. Maybe a bit toothy. "Trust me when I say I know language that you haven't even considered, candidate." She doesn't comment on his remarking of Nate's status as a candidate. "If it keeps getting hotter, I may just send you all off to the hold," she flippantly remarks. "Renalde would know what to do with you." Doesn't sound ominous at ALL, does it?

Niyati looks quite happy at this prospect then gives a green Nathanael-ward. "It's wonderfully cool for as long as that ice lasts. Ebben earns a raise of one eyebrow but she merely shakes her head. "How anyone can be in as constant motion as Nathanael, is beyond me, but now I'll remember to look round corners before turning them just in case." But then the Hold is being mentioned and she perks right up. "Oh that would be /wonderful/. It seems like ages since we discovered that spring and all of those bones. I wonder if we'd find more?"

Ebben is looking past the small group to the eggs below with a measured interest while he munches when Bailey's comment strikes him. "The hold? I didn't think it was entirely livable up there." Ebben says after a tick, thinking back to Kultir with all his furs and knives… "Though I'd be interested to see it. I hear it's a whole different world."

"Twas an accident!" Nathanael is going to register that protest again. But alas, it doesn't seem to be doing a whole pile of any-good-at-all. Another pastry will simply have to sooth his wounded integrity with another pastry. Like that one, with all the white cream spilling out of the end. He bounces just slightly, and listens for the moment about talk of the ice hold- having no experience with the stuff outside of the occasional drink he has nothing to add.

"Well. You guys keep… doing what you are doing." Bailey shuffles to her feet with a baleful look down at the Sands: Khalyssrielth is currently looking up EXPECTANTLY. "Yes, there are people at the hold — apparently it's quite nice. Nicer than this." She gestures vaguely, perhaps encompassing the topic of HEAT. With a quick smile, Bailey's trotting down the aisle and then taking steps three at a time, completely heedless of risk, her bare feet sure on the stone.

Ebben watches the goldrider scoot off with some mild bemusement. "For a woman who appeared to be wilting with heat, she's got a bit of pep in her step, don't you think?" As Bailey ducks out of view, Ebben turns back to his fellow candidates, leaning against the bench and stretching his long legs out to drape over the seats in front of him. Arms extend to encompass the back of the bench on either side and he melts into expansive comfort. "You're a candidate." He murmurs at last to Nathanael with a slight shake of his head and a thin smile of inward humor. "Quite the motley crew." He says by way of both his fellow white knots.

Niyati gives Bailey a sympathetic look as she makes for the cooler spot. "Oh of /course/ it was an accident. I'm sure Ebben doesn't hold it against you so much as remembers it without much fondness. And you really must see the hold, Ebben. It's lovely. Ice everywhere and that hot spring with its skeletons. I do hope they haven't been removed yet, but I suppose most would find them unsettling. I'm sure it was, or an unfortunate weyrling who made a mistake betweening. I don't think we'll ever find out." Sigh.

Nathanael flashes Ebben a bright smile for his comment regarding their motleyness, and his eyes fall speculatively to the six pastries still upon the tray. (Really, did Ardstelle think Bailey was going to eat a solid dozen of them by herself? Where does that woman get these ideas from?) "I hope mayhap we're able t' be seein' it." With that said he gathers that tray up. "'m gonna be seein' if'n any'un 'n 'e barrack's'll be wantin' some've these." With a cheerful fingerwave he's dashing off, heading up rather then downwards to find someone to share this bounty with.

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