Xanthee, H'rik, Fergus


The Weyrleader comes to check out the Jungle that has invaded the Candidate Barracks


It is midmorning of the thirteenth day of the sixth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Candidate Barracks, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 13 Mar 2018 04:00


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Candidate Barracks

Hopes, dreams, and fears are contained in these cramped quarters, full of small cots and smaller trunks; thin ragged curtains barely provide privacy between the bunks, shining patches in the material suggesting one too many mending attempts. The minimal floor space is kept clear of debris and personal possessions, wide enough for a single broad table often used for study in the art of dragon care. It is a cramped space despite it all, when dragoneggs lie upon the Sands: there's no helping the worn surroundings, when use is at an all-time high. Near the entrance, one cubby exists, large enough to contain a bit of luxury for an adult overseer of the candidates, and a desk — for once in reasonable shape — is set to the left of the entrance, conveniently placed for the monitoring of comings and goings.

It's midmorning and all is not well, Xanthee is returning to the barracks after some chores that took hardly any time at all that morning. And being the smart candidate she is, decided to take the extra time she was left with for herself instead of looking for more work. It's a personal motto that she developed in her Turns growing up and working in the lower caverns, "If you finish early, keep it to yourself!". So she decided on working on her robe. Only problem with that is having to go and get it, in the spinner infested jungle that now invades the Candidate barracks. But that's ok, because Xan has somehow managed to arm herself with an iron poker, just don't ask where she got it. As she takes her first few trepidatious steps into the crowded room, she uses the point to shuffle folliage and vines out of her way gingerly.

H'rik is definitely coming to the barracks on official business, oh yes. He's a few minutes behind Xanthee, but by the time he reaches the entrance, she's slowed down due to having to navigate the - er- decorations. The Weyrleader stops in the doorway as well, eyes widening in surprise as he absorbs the sight in the already cramped room. "Huh." The simple word, more of a noise, somehow sounds as impressed as it is surprised. Xanthee and her gentle manipulations of the foliage catches his attention (how could it not, she's right there!) and he asks, "when did…how long has this been here?" He doesn't sound angry - if anything, on the verge of a smile.

Xanthee looks back when she hears the surprised sound and switches the poker to her off hand so she can offer him a litle salute. "A couple of days now. And it's not just plants either, the jungle creepy crawlies seem to have been swept along, like spinners as big as your face." Xan may be exagerating just the teeniest bit, but it's obvious that she is unhappy with the current state of affairs in the room where she tries to sleep. "I mean really? I've seen Candidate pranks but this is ridiculous!" She jumps with a sharp cry as she pokes at another clump of soil and thinks she sees the egg legged terror, but calms when she sees it's just some roots. Her eyes have the bleary redness of someone who hasn't slept well in a couple days.

H'rik is trying his damndest to look serious about this, but there's something bright in his eyes as he looks about, taking in the very Southern-esque look of the place. "Oh? The tunnelsnakes will probably take care of those." Like that's supposed to be a positive thing! "It's quite…extravagent." He takes a step into the room now, moving towards a bundle of plants sticking out from a clod of dirt, running the purple petals between his fingers.

There's a slight scraping sound coming from within a dense clump of foliage somewhere near the back of the barracks. Scraaape. Scraaape. Followed by a grunt of satisfaction before the noise resumes. It's only when the chatty talk between Xanthee and H'rik continues unabated that the source of the noise might be revealed - Fergus pokes his bearded, hairy head out from between a set of hanging vines, completely unperterbed about any potential spinners. "Morning," comes his deep voice by way of greeting. Hopefully he doesn't startle anyone too much - he's also holding a whittling knife in one hand, so that's probably not the best impression to add to his sudden appearance. Seems he must have finished his morning chores a bit early, too.

"Tunnelsnakes, just what we need." Xanthee says with a snort and another shudder, "Although anything would be better than that spinner. It was huge! And hairy with enormous fangs." She freezes when she hears that scraping though, gooseflesh rising on her arms. She only jumps slight when the bearded cnadidate peeks his head out from behind some vines. "Shards Fergus! Don't scare the armed woman! And weren't you complaining about there being no trees here..and you're from Southern." She waves her poker in his direction suspiciously as she continues her slow transversal of the Barracks all the way to the back where her bunk is. This may take awhile.

H'rik peers over at the sound of scraping and grunting. Has a feline somehow come along with the plants, too? Though surely someone would have noticed that by now? Still, he does look relieved when it's the bearded face of Fergus that emerges from the vines. "Morning!" H'rik returns, giving the knife a quick eye before he recalls the man's association with wood carving and relaxes. He doesn't seem to believe Xanthee's description of this beastly spinner. "It's more afraid of you than you are of it - at least, that's what my mum always told me," he offers, trying his best to soothe the sore feelings about the current decorations. He's trying, bless him! He also seems to be trying to take in as much of the vista as possible, looking all about, and going to poke at certain bits of foliage curiously.

Fergus gives Xanthee's poker a rather unimpressed stare from beneath bushy brows and makes a noise in his throat that likely indicates he doesn't find such a thing a threat. He takes a moment to thoughtfully peer around him at the enshrouding vines and whatever spinners they may have secreted away, his movements slow and thoughtful. He glances up, then to the side and then to the other side. Then he gives a languid shrug of his broad shoulders, "These aren't trees." Pause for emphasis before he adds, matter of factly, "They're vines." As if any self-respecting Woodsmith wouldn't know the difference. And that's as far as a 'I didn't do this' anyone's likely to get from Fergus. "He's right," is his addition to H'rik's words about the spinner. "I'll stab it if it shows up. If you're that afraid of it." He's very sensible, Fergus. He scrapes his whittling knife over the block of wood he's carving.

The firm way Xanthee holds the poker does speak to the fact that she has some practice, and really the girl is bristling visibly under the fact that the one thing that brings out a primal fear in her are those eight-legged freaks of nature. "So they're vines, they both grow in the jungle though." Xan seems to think that logic settles it all. Pushing another vine out of her way, she continues her trek. To H'rik she offers a wry smile, "Yeah, that may well be, but I'm not going to stick around and make friends with it." She says speaking of the spinner being more afraid, obviously that old addage has been used on the girl before.

If anyone here is the one who knows who did this, it'll be H'rik. But he's not giving any information up as to the culprit, sorry Fergus. The man has a look verging on wonder as he runs his hand over a vine. "Me neither," he notes absently in response to Xanthee, entranced by the very out of place plant for the moment. Bringing his hand away, he tries to pull himself up a bit straighter and at least look professional, even if his eyes are still shining with delight at this display. "Working on that carving, Fergus?"

Fergus makes a snorting noise in response, "I'm originally from Lemos. I only worked at Southern." Thus, the fact it's a jungle plant seems to not really inspire Fergus to care much more. His attention is focused again on his whittling, which seems a much bigger piece than the smaller versions of the clutchparents he had been working on before. There's some vague imagery of a dragon on it, though it's hard to tell much at this stage. "You're 100 times its size," Fergus notes in his deep basso rumble, ever practical, "Just squish it." To H'rik, he inclines his bushy head in a nod of affirmation, "Yep. The quest." He hefts the chunk of wood slightly to show it off a bit more. It's at this point it may be noted that a fairly large spinner seems to be traipsing up Fergus' capacious beard hair. Fergus, however, hasn't even noticed.

Xanthee sighs heavily as the boys seem to think that they know oh-so-much. So she'll just roll her eyes a bit and continue on her way, methodically clearing a path out of her way. But when H'rik and Fergus start to talk about the 'quest' given to him, Xan's emeral eyes flicker over to the two males curiously. Taking one step closer to have a better look when he holds it off for better viewing. Her gaze though catches the movement in the man's red beard so it focuses on it for just long enough to make out what it is before a shrieks erupts from her lips and she scrambles backwards, unfortuantely her heel catches a piece of vine and down she goes, right into a pile of dence folliage as she flails desperately at imagined insects crawling all over her.

H'rik tries and fails not to smile when Fergus talks about just squishing any spinners. His mouth is quirking at one corner, despite his best efforts to contain the gesture. He moves in closer too, when the chunk of wood is presented. Unlike Xanthee, H'rik is so focused on trying to make out the details of Fergus's work that he doesn't notice the movement in the man's beard. The shriek that comes from Xanthee, however, DOES catch his attention, and he starts, staring at her wide-eyed. "What??" Alarmed, he steps over to make an effort to help the girl up, reaching down to do so - and oblivious to the spinner hanging on a web above where his head now is.

Fergus blinks several times in surprise at the sudden bout of screaming, completely unsure of how to proceed at this point. Was it his face? Did something fall on her? Considering H'rik starts to head towards the girl, Fergus gives a grunt of resignation and rises, setting his carving down on his cot but bringing his whittling knife along. He may need it to stab a spinner, after all. Brushing aside some vines, he starts after H'rik and towards Xanthee, peering down at her, "You okay?" This motion, however, causes Fergus' beard to sway forward, the spinner clinging to it like it's on some sort of strange swing-set. Wheee.

An autumn wind swirls dried leaves along a worn path that stretches through spiced woodland. With the senior queen's presence comes the scent of redfruit and cinnamon carried upon the crisp, refreshing breeze of her consciousness. « Wendryth. » The bronze's name manifests like a willow-o-wisp glowing amongst the golden-red foliage along the winding path. « Mine has a quest for H'rik. Can you give him a message? » (From Zsaviranth)

Still trying desperately to regain her feet, Xanthee looks up to wave off the help of the Weyrleader before she sees the spinner comning down it's web right over his head and points shakily at it as she shrinks back. Then Fergus is there, and bringing his little beard roomate with him which does elicit another shriek as she scuttles further into the plants until her rustling manages to drop an offending spinner out of it's hiding place among the leaves and right onto her cheek. It is a tiny wee thing, probably newly hatched, but upon feeling its little legs and catching it's movement out of the corner of her eye, Xanthee flails in all directions, shrieking her fool head off, and the boys better watch out, because she still has that poker in her death grip and it is waving wildly.

"Huh?" H'rik blinks when Xanthee points above him, and he pauses in his help efforts, turning his head to look up, up above…OH. "Uh-" the grunt of alarm comes out of him, and he ducks down to get away from the thing and its waggling legs. "Are these things atracted to people or something?" Now Xanthee is flailing around though, and the Weyrleader falls backwards in his attempts to get out of the poker's range, right into his butt. "Oof!"

Wendryth thinks to you, « I bespoke Zsaviranth with: Wendryth is all attentiveness, his queen's duty foremost when her request for his assistance comes! The mist of his mind swirls, ruffling some of that foliage - but not disturbing it, he is far too respectful for that. « MY LADY! PLEASE DO TELL ME THE MESSAGE YOU WISH ME TO CONVEY! » Might wanna quiet that down there, Wendy! »

Fergus jerks back in surprise as Xanthee starts flailing around like a madwoman, only just managing to stay on his feet. Then the Weyrleader is falling over and things keep going downhill from there. Is everyone going mad? "For Faranth's sake," comes Fergus' grunted oath, "It's just a baby spinner - stop waving that poker around and I'll get it!" And Fergus will start to attempt to dodge the flailing poker - he'll lean forward a bit to try to reach Xanthee, only to jerk back as the poker comes near him. All the while this is just making his beard swing back and forth like a pendulum, the spinner clinging there happily enjoying the ride. Hopefully spinners can't get motion sick.

The woodland 'scape is serene and there is a delicate windchime heard further down a sun speckled pathway, enticing. « She requires a yellowfruit pastry. » Such a quest seems simple enough, until one final detail is mentioned after a moment's pause. « From Ista. » A very important addition at that! Leaves swirl down said pathway in faint elemental amusement as the crisp breeze picks up once more. « Does he accept? » (From Zsaviranth)

Xanthee's distress has attracted her trio of firelizards' attention and they pop in from between warbling worriedly as they try to comfort their humanpet. She has devolved into a quivering, whimpering mess, her face streaked with tears, eyes wide, the poker that was flailing is now clutched to her chest like a safety blanket. When they see an opening, her three descend and perch on various parts of her, crooing softly and rubbing their heads on her all the while keeping their eyes out for more eight-legged offenders. She shakes violently when Fergus's little buddy is still beign swung in her direction but the spinner on her cheek is long gone, thrown off no doubt in her wild rumpus. "T-t-t.." she tries to articulate as she points at the redheaded candidate's beard but not managing to get past the stutttering. The Weyrleader is given a quick glance to see if he's ok after his fall.

Wendryth thinks to you, « I bespoke Zsaviranth with: Wendryth is DELIGHTED by this. « I SHALL LET HIM KNOW! » And, after a pause, to reassure her: « HE IS DISTRACTED NOW - BUT I WILL ENSURE HIS FULL ACCEPTANCE OF HIS TASK! » »

H'rik does an awkward sort of roll to get well out of the way, getting to his feet without much grace. The fact he's looking up above to make sure he doesn't stand up straight into another spinner doesn't help. "Er-" The two candidates seem to have enough to deal with, without someone who should be a responsibile adult getting in the way. "Er - I should -" His eyes take on that distinct glazed expression riders have. "Now?" he mutters, but hey - convenient reason to back away towards the door, right? "I, uh - have something I need to do." And thus he flees through the door. Maybe he's not quite as unafraid of spinners as he made himself out to be!

Fergus heaves a heavy sigh, causing a bit of his beard/mustache hair to billow out slightly. He glances over his shoulder as H'rik makes his ungraceful exit, shaking his head sadly. "All this for spinners," he grunts, lips twitching slightly in amusement from behind his bushy beard. Xanthee's stuttering act finally has him glancing down and, with nary more than a brief grunt of surprise, he finally notices the stowaway clinging to the tip of his beard. "Oh," is all he says and, without much fanfare, he plucks said spinner and flicks it away (in the /opposite/ direction of Xanthee, thankfully.) He reaches out a large hand to Xanthee to offer to help her up, "No more spinners."

Xanthee looks as if she doesn't quite believe Fergus for a moment after he get rid of his stowaway but then he is offering her a hand up and she looks up with wide eyes, rimmed in red from the fearful tears that left wet trails down her cheeks. "No more?" she whimpers pitifully once as she takes a glance around. Gingerly, and still clutching the poker in her other hand, she takes the man's hand and lets herself be helped to her feet, her firelizards shifting to crowd her shoulders and upper arms. With a weak smile for his held, she offers a shakey, "Thanks Fergus." before brushing herself off and wiping at her eyes, "Something needs to be done about this." she says, her head shaking, "This is supposed to be where we come to relax after all the chores, not be scared into between. I think I'm going to see if I can find one of the weyrlingmasters." With one final nod of thanks at the other Candidate, she makes her way back to the entrance, only jumping a couple of times as a stray bit of leaf or dirt clinging to her shifts to make her think she's under further attack from the web-spinning menace.

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