Who

Liavhah, Xanthee, Rafevahn, Beris, En'rys

What

The klah hearth of the Living Caverns see some activity mid-morning

When

It is midmorning of the twenty-eighth day of the first month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Living Caverns, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 27 May 2018 04:00

 

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"How are you liking Igen? I bet it's loads different from Fort,"


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Living Cavern

Brightly lit by a regimented march of strung glow-globes, Igen's busy living caverns are cut of the same exotic limestone design that frequents the bazaar without. Tapestries line the tops of the walls, one for each of Igen's wings, past and present; beneath them, skybroom tables litter the floors in scattered profusion. Some of the wicker chairs have seen better days, but most of the worst offenders have long-ago been replaced. The seemingly random placement of furniture, however, at closer inspection yields a sort of cross-shape of negative space. The northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns are owned by the kitchen's buffet, food-laden thrice daily in regimented shifts by busy bakers from the curtained southern entrance to the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside; westerly lies the large doors leading down into the bowels of the weyr itself.


Midmorning and the bustle from breakfast is finally dying down, drudges working to clean the remnants of the morning meal, taking the time to do some general maintanance while it is slow. Talking in low voices with some of the kitchen assisntants, Xanthee is checking things off a checklist she has in her hand. "That's all I need, thanks Maisi," she bobs her head at the older girl before tucking the checklist into her pocket and fetching herself a mug of klah. It's break time apparently for this raven-haired girl.

Admitted directly into the weyr under the aegis of a stressful period of time — insomuch as Liavhah personally experiences it — means that the healer hasn't really decompressed since her arrival. She walks cautiously into the living caverns on this first rest day at Igen, removing her jacket to reveal comfortable, clingy pants and flowing overshirt that highlights the trim lines of her physique. Wearing a minimal amount of cosmetic, with her hair in loose ringlets falling heavily down her back, she's as close to casual as she's ever like to get. The sparrow-built Healer takes in the caverns and moves toward the klah hearth once she's oriented herself. Her smile to Xanthee is sweet by nature and automatic in dispensation. "Good morning," she murmurs, filling her mug and then pausing, not finding what she's looking for at first glance. "Is there cream anywhere?"

Xanthee looks up when greeted, her own easy smile turned towards the Journeyman healer before she picks up a little pitcher nearby and hands it over, "Here you go." The younger girl heaps an obscene amount of sweetener into her own mug before grabbing a spoon and stirring it thoroughly. Her emerald gaze sweeps over the healer then, eyes narrowing, "You're new aren't you?" A former Igen weyrbrat born and bred, Xan prides herself on knowing everyone, and this woman is unfamiliar to her. With a smile, she offers a bob of her head, "I'm Xanthee."

"Oh, thanks." If it had been a tunnelsnake, Liavhah would be treating herself right now for snakebite. She splashes a sparing amount of cream into her own klah, and more a sprinkle of sweetner than could even be called a proper spoonful. The first sip seems to wake her up, lithe fingers curled around the pottery of the mug, eyelids shuttering closed for a moment's passing bliss. "I am," she replies, perhaps a moment belated. "Liavhah, previously of the Healer Hall beholden to Fort. Well-met, Xanthee. Are you native then?" A tilt of her head seems to indicate the doors, and perhaps even further, toward the sprawl of the bazaar within the weyrbowl.

"Igen Weyr, born, bred and raised in the lower caverns," Xanthee pipes up with no small amount of pride for her heritage. "You arrived before that suprise fall the other day didn't you? I remember hearing a new healer was expected," she tilts her head invitingly in the direction of a table and chair before taking a step or two in that direction, "I'm Weyrwoman Nasrin's assistant, I tend to hear a lot," she explains with a grin, "How are you liking Igen? I bet it's loads different from Fort," she asks curiously before finding her seat and setting her mug of klah down.

"Oh," Liavhah replies, dark eyebrows rising even as her smile deepens at the girl's visible loyalty to hearth and home. "Yes, that's me. Fresh from the Hall I'm afraid." The hint of self-depreciation colours her bright soprano even as she follows along. There is ingrained grace in the series of motions that together create the simple gesture of her pulling a chair out and sitting: all of Fort's formalities still lie heavy upon her comportment. "Oh," she says again, this time of Xanthee's appointment; "That must be fascinating. I can only imagine the people you must meet." Her smile softens and then she busies herself with her klah, briefly. "It is quite different from home. The people here are… nothing like what I'm used to, even on my initial journeying around Fort's coverage." Her dark eyes are fixed on her mug, her expression opaque, an enigmatic arrangement of pensive thought.

Curling her hands around her warm mug, Xanthee sighs softly as she leans towards the Healer, elbows on the table. "We can always use fresh healers, especially with Thread falling on our heads without knowing it," she pipes up with a playful roll of her eyes that sets them twinkling. Dipping her head a bit at the woman's next she nods entusiastically, "Oh yeah! It's great! I've only had the job for about six months now, but I've seen and learned so much even in that time." Xan unconsciously puffs up with a little bit of pride when she speaks of her appointment. Bringing her mug to her lips as she listens to Liavhah's response to her question, she takes a slow sip before setting it back down again, "I bet it is. And the people are definitely unique, although," she leans in when dropping her voice slightly, "Watch yourself in the Bazaar. It's really easy to get lost, and the rougher elements can spot a newcomer from a dragon length away." She punctuates her advice with a sage nod of her head before sitting back in her seat.

"It certainly gave me some confirmation that I selected the correct specialty, or in the least that my Hall's leadership was correct in sending me to an area that can make adequate usage of my abilities." Liavhah's smile is a slender sliver of fondness, proof in the pudding that Healers are unique in how they encode memories, given the pain and suffering experienced in the timespan indicated by her commentary. The two dark-haired young women, alike enough in stature and colouration to be sisters at distant glance, are seated at a table enjoying klah in this mid-morning candlemark. The living caverns bustle is slow boil around him, a few scragglers but mostly just preparing for the true bustle of lunch looming close. Liavhah curls her lips downward at Xanthee's advise regarding the bazaar, and she shakes her head. "I went to a little dive there on my first day here. It was… educational. I believe a cleanliness campaign could do a great deal of help to the general health both here and within the bazaar proper." Public health initiatives within the first sevenday of being at the weyr? At least she found the right person to pitch them to.

"Now I'm curious which dive you went into," Xanthee remarks with mischief in her eyes as she shrugs her shoulders dimissingly, "Yeah, it's hard to keep anywhere clean when the duststorms pick up. We're hearty folks though, we have to be since our environment is so harsh," she doesn't mean to come off as any kind of braggard, but the girl loves her Weyr that much is quite apparent. With another thoughtful sip from her mug, she pauses thoughtfully before going back to something the Healer said prefviously, "So what is your speciality then?" she asks with interest.

How did Rafevahn manage to actually get a brunch break when he's as low on the totem pole as he is? Answer: Working lunch, it seems like. He's in uniform, knot on, but appears to be making a beeline for the eating. After obtaining some meat on a stick and a glass of water, he goes hunting a seat or two and — doesn't, at first, find any that suits. He's scanning the room, taking everything in, and then realizes there's someone he's never seen before sitting with someone he definitely has … so the two women have gained a third at their table. Theoretically. "Xanthee," comes Rafevahn's voice from behind, "Can I sit? Introduce me to your friend?"

"I believe it was called the Canteen. Wait. Cantina?" Liavhah purses her lips to the side, contemplating. "Something like that. It was big, just… dirty." Or at least the patrons were, which — in hospitality terms — indicates not much of a difference. Her eyebrows tick briefly upward at Xanthee's mention of dust storms. "Does it snow here?" is her mild-voiced query, innocuous at first glimpse; in this, it is a reversal of the trope, for in Igen's naivete lies Fort's cunning. Or at least rampant amount of side-eye. "Trauma," she replies brightly to Xanthee's inquiry nonetheless; "Emergency medicine." She opens her mouth to no doubt take a further stroll down that road when she's interrupted by Rafevahn's entrance, dark eyes shifting to take in the latest acquisition of their table. Her eyebrows lift briefly, then furrow, as if in some perceived familiarity.

"I don't see how I can stop you Refevahn," Xanthee says with a smirk in the direction of the arriving guard trainee before she turns back to her table mate, "And this is Journeyman Healer Liavhah, she's joining us from Fort," she says by way of introduction, "This is Rafevahn, he's a guard…or he will be eventually," she says with a teasing sort of smirk but in a friendly way, meaning no offense obviously. Turning back with interest at her specialties, Xanthee's eyebrows hike up with interest, "Wow, yeah, then you are exactly in the right place. Trauma abounds in Threadfall," she says, her words lilting significantly but she quickly shakes herself out of it when she finally registers Liavhah's first, "The Cantina? Dirty? Really?" Xan looks genuinely shocked at that.

"You have the option of saying 'no, go away,'" Rafevahn points out with a sideways grin. "I'd probably even do it." Probably. But instead he sits down, turning the grin Liavhah-wards after muting it down a bit to more of a welcoming smile. "More Healers are always useful. As you may have seen the other day, we get slammed. Poor Alsha, and Sirocco, they all work really hard but the Red Star perpetually has one up on the Weyr. Uh, some of the new waitresses are kind of morons," he relays to Xanthee at the revelation about the Cantina. "So I'm not really surprised if they're slacking at cleaning up after the people who track mud in. The owner'll throw a fit, though. A quiet, really subdued fit. When he finds out. Anyway, it's lovely to meet you, Journeyman."

The expression on Liavhah's face when Xanthee reacts as she does to the notion of the Cantina not being considered dirty is an extended, teeth-exposed wince of alarm and chagrin on behalf of the other party. "Yes," says the woman with a closet full of twenty-mark heels and designer dresses, and a mind full of memories with Healer Hall and Fort Hold's elite. "Certainly dirty." To whit: there is no state of mopping that could get Liavhah to consider the place clean, simply due to impression formation and her own expectations. She may be a sweet little thing, but she's lived an emphatically entitled life outside the operating theater up to this point. "Rafevahn, was it?" she segues naturally, switching her attention to the guard trainee. "Well met. It seems I've met nothing but dragonriders, guards, and individuals of dubious moral compass up to this point." She startles visibly after saying it, and her smile is bright toward the weyrwoman's assistant: "And Xanthee. Breaking all the molds before her."

"Guess I haven't been in awhile then," Xanthee ponders at Rafe's mention of useless waitresses and then Liavhah's disdain of the condition does give her a puzzled cant to her head, "Really? I guess things are very different here than from Fort then, cause I never saw a problem with it. And it's not like we have diseases running rampant through the bazaar or anything," she adds with a slight bristling as her Igen pride gets pricked but mollifies with a chuckle at the Journeyman's last. "That's me, one of a kind," she says with a wink and a smile of renewed good humour before picking her mug up again for a long sip now that it's cooled enough.

"It's just a couple people," says Rafe with a shrug of one shoulder; it's not that big a deal to him, and it isn't as if lazy staff lasts very long around there. "So I mean, probably not a concern. And yeah, nobody in the bazaar ever really seems to get sick much." He takes a big bite of his food, all carefree relaxedness; he's not apparently taking the Healer's words as judgment. It is true that bazaarites rarely get sick — they're used to the germs they've got, after all! "Uh, I assume you've also met other healers, ma'am?"

Liavhah may privately have opinions about the general state of public health in Igen versus Fort, but those opinions would do nothing but harm in the current conversational context, and a healer's oath being as it is… "Of course," she says to Rafevahn, with a puzzlement that obviously indicates that she doesn't count them as people to be met, just colleagues she hasn't made the acquaintance of yet. The Healer, Xanthee, and the guard are all seated at a table by the klah hearth, enjoying klah — and on Rafe's part, food. Liavhah glances up, caught by the candlemark's height. "Oh!" she says, straightening and gulping back the rest of her klah, obviously late for something or another.

Letting the topic of the public health concerns of the Bazaar drop is fine with Xanthee, she doesn't particularly like feeling like she has to defend her home from newcommers who only see the surface. And even though raised in the Weyr, the Bazaar has always been her extended playground as it were. When it looks as if teh Journeyman is going to be off imminently, she offers her a warm smile, "Well, you have a good day. And check out the Tea Room sometime, might be more to your liking." The girl prides herself on her old workplace being one of the nicer places in the bazaar. Turning back to the guard, she offers him a smile, "So you getting your butt kicked in training?" her eyes twinkle with mischief.

Does it count as harm when it's arguing? Depends on who one asks, it seems. Rafevahn watches Liavhah as she notes the time, and offers up a mock-salute. "Late for something?" he asks in a way that manages to be both respectful and teasing simultaneously — this must be something they're teaching guards now — more curiously than with judgment. "Good luck with that." As for Xanthee's question? "Often. Not today. But often. I kick back, though."

Liavhah rises gracefully to return her empty klah mug to the dirty dishes bin, her actions neat and trim as the rest of her. "Indeed," she says liltingly to Rafevahn, nodding briefly at Xanthee. "Tea Room," she repeats lightly. "I'll have to remember that." With a flash of a smile, the young Healer draws a hand through her hair and disappears deeper into the caverns, winding her way through the tables and chairs.

Leaning back in her chair to run a critical eye over the guard trainee, Xanthee's emerald green eyes dance briefly before she says with a smirk, "I bet I could take you," she says with confidence before taking another sip of her klah. The raven-haired girl has been a fixture in the guard's training room for the past couple of turns actually so he would probably have seen her there once or twice. "Yes, do remember, and tell 'em Xan sent you," she calls after the departing woman before looking back at Rafe with a smirk. "So other than guarding, how've you been? I've lost track of everyone since I moved in with my boyfriend in the Crafter Quarters." She wouldn't be Xan is she didn't bring up her Miner-love at least once in a conversation.

Rafevahn presses his lips together, apparently trying to find a polite way to say — nope, he can't quite do it. "I doubt that," he says flatly. She may have some self-defense experience, and she practices, but .. "I spend most of my time working on it." And am not a girl. "Training, that is. Not doin' much else, really. It's quiet. We've got some new guys in the barracks …" He trails off, looking out in the distance for a moment, reading the room. Maybe looking for one of those new guys. "Don't — If you haven't seen a guy before, and he's an older trainee, maybe don't challenge him to a scuffle in the training room, okay? Some of 'em give off a bad vibe." A vibe he doesn't want anywhere near women, kthx.

The natural ebb and flow of people in the living caverns draws in other bodies as some leaves; Beris enters, shucking off her winter jacket as she hits the wall of wamrth generated by so many bodies in one indoor place. The klah hearth seems a good place to head for, to grab a warm drink. And hey, wouldn't ya know it, the familiar face of Xanthee is there, at a table nearby. Her companion isn't one Beris recognises, so while Xanthee gets a "heya," of greeting as Beris draws near, Rafevahn gets a silent nod instead. "Mind if I sit with you guys?" She's already looking to put her jacket over the back of a chair, even as she asks.

"That's true, I haven't been able to get to training that much since getting this new job," Xanthee manages with a soft sigh, "But I still manage as much as I can. And I don't know, I've gotten used to just sparring with my teacher, I could use someone fresh to go up against." she ponders asking Kyara if that might not be a good idea the next time they meet for training. At Rafe's warning about a bad vibe off some new recruits, Xan is suddenly sitting forward, literally on the edge of her seat as she braces her elbows on the tabletop, "Oh really? What kind of a bad vibe are we talking about here?" she asks, her interest apparent. When Beris makes her way over to them, she offers the girl a friend smile, "Hey you! Haven't seen you around for awhile. How's things?" she asks politely.

Rafevahn looks upward at Beris, trying to remember if he's seen her before — answer: yes, but not enough to actually know who she is except maaaaaybe a bronzerider's weyrmate, or a bronzerider's sister, or it could've been both? — and then nods back. "Sure, sure, I was just about to tell Xanthee that some of the new guards are creepy." What a mature and very specific description! He does have more detail, but isn't sure if either of these poor girls should have to listen to his conspiracy theories. He downs the last of his water as Beris settles in, letting out a satisfied little noise.

The answer has barely come, but Beris is putting her jacket over a chair, looking at Xanthee only briefly before getting distracted by the nearby hearth and the klah stayin gnice and hot there. "Kinda…busy. But…good, thanks." There's a hint of more to be said, but the moment not being right. As the woman moves to pour herself a mug of steaming drink, she looks curiously over at Rafevahn. "Aren't all guards a little creepy? Always hanging round the bazaar, and all that stuff." She's…joking? Probably? Her tone is pretty level, so it's hard to say for sure, but there's the merest flicker of a smile to try and indicate she's not trashing all guards. Drink in hand, she returns to the table to take the seat she's claimed.

Xanthee nods briefly at Beris' reply, noting the hint of more to be said and saying no more for the time, Back to Rafe she does raise a brow speculatively, her interest is thoroughtly piqued, "Oh? Creepy how? I'd assume they are vetted before being taken in for the training…" she trails off as if inviting the guard to share more about this feeling he gets from these new trainees. Turning back to Beris with a smirk she grins, "I usually just have to deal with them leering at me while I'm working on the bags in the training room, but then I do my knife work and they tend to find other things to occupy their time," she relays with a wink in her friend's direction.

Noon time is a hungry time — especially if your entire day is made of energy-sinking, hunngry-making activities like training, training, and, oh yes, training. Fortunately, having had Thread try to eat you affords a certain amount of leisure until healing is complete, though there is little excuse when a limb has not been affected. At any rate, En'rys has time for food, and with the way his belly is snarling, he had better make it now, or he will suffer the wrath. Food of various kinds are gathered up to sacrifice to the Beast, and the young greenrider turns to find himself a seat. Oh, look, people: perhaps he should head that way! And he's close enough to catch the tail end of Xanthee's comments, and smirks. "Are yu threatening the men of the Weyr again, sis? Naughty."

Well. Rafevahn opened his mouth. And he knows Xanthee well enough to know she'd ask, so he dug his own gossip-grave! Beris and En'rys will just have to cope. "She's not threatened me," he tells the arriving greenrider calmly, "Just made suggestions. To me. About sparring. These other guys, I think she should just avoid." This guy who he doesn't really know is ridiculously tall, so perhaps he should know about Rafe's concerns for the ladies' safety. Though then he's just quickly sticking the corner of his tongue out at Beris. "Not all guards are creepy, thanks much," is said sweetly, "But these ones are, uh. They have a vibe? It's just very … hardened. Thugly."

Beris leans back in her chair, watching the other two over the top of her mug as she sips carefully. Her smile is in her eyes at Xanthee's comment, and when she lowers her mug, it's on her lips, too. "Are you a guard now?" She asks, intrigued by this talk of being in the training room. En'rys's appearance earns the Weyrling a nod of greeting, before Beris goes back to sipping that klah again, too hot to slurp it. Her teasing smile back at Rafevahn is damn near a smirk, but she's not going to carry on that particular topic, latching on to this snippet of information the most-likely-a-guard shares. "Probably someone's hired them for that reason," she comments, rather darkly, holding her mug near her chin rather than lowering it further. "How long've they been around?"

"Am not!" is Xanthee's indignant reply to En'rys' arrival before she swivels her head in his direction. The slight score on his cheek draws her eye immediately. A cloud crosses her emerald gaze as she takes a deep breath and pointedly looks away from her adopted brother. To Rafe, she smiles weakly, happy to continue on with the conversation over creepy guards, "Thugly? Really?" she muses puzzledly, before looking back at Beris to answer her question, "No, but I train in there as much as I can," she adds. She considers the other girl's last with a softly thoughtful hum. "Hired them because they look like thugs? That's a troubling thought." she says softly before staring into the dregs of her empty klah mug.

En'rys is very threatening indeed, a long slim guy with messy hair and some weird old way of just flopping down — uninvited, might his player add — into a chair quite near the group with his food. Oh hey, surely you want more people here, yes? Yes! He flashes Rafevahn a sunny smile. "Yet." Because En'rys likes needling his sister-in-soul, if not in blood. Lifting his fork, he belatedly catches Beris' nod, and returns the greeting cheerfully. He knows her, right? Sort of! But then, the import of the somewhat thuglly types now frequenting the Bazaar has him frowning with concern. "Didn't Eala vet these men?" He asks, hopefully. Xanthee's clouded expression earns her a raised eyebrow and a slight tilt of his head. He'll have to donate another shirt to the 'soaked by Xanthee pile' later, perhaps; good thing it's stilt he ugly yellow ones they're forced to wear. He'll be glad to have it ruined.

"Because they're hardened, I'd think," Rafevahn agrees with Beris and confirms for Xanthee, or else, that's what he thinks Beris meant. Hopefully it's along the right lines! En'rys gets a brief look of — it's hard to read, but it might be disapproval as he says flatly, "Yes. More importantly, our actual Captain did too. Dragonriders don't run the guard," it's all he can do to hold back the 'tsk' noise. "I assume they have a plan, or some kind of reason, but these dudes definitely rub me the wrong way. So I think maybe women should be watching out a little more when it comes to hanging out in there."

Beris's thoughtful face partly disappears behind her mug, and when she lowers the mug, resting it lightly in her lap, her expression has cleared to a more relaxed one. Whatever disagreement may be happening, or about to happen about dragonriders and their influence over the guard - she's gonna stay out of it. "I see," she says in reply to Xanthee's clarification about her presence in the training rooms, before she relaxes back again, casually surveying the others. "Noted," she replies to Rafevahn's advice, though after she's spoken, her lips press together until they thin, displeased at the idea of having to watch herself more than usual in the bazaar.

En'rys' clothes are safe from Xanthee's tears, but he might get a worried earful about learning hwo to dodge Thread quicker, even though she knows skill isn't the onyl factor involved. To see a loved one with even a little score brings up an assortment of bad memories that Xan fights to push to the back of her mind. Her interest is clearly taken up by the continued gossip about these new guards, although she scoffs at Rafe's suggestion that women should watch out when using the training facilities, "That's a load of crap if I ever heard. I've been using that training room for over two turns now, I'm not stopping now." Rafe's statement of dragonriders not runnign the guard does get a roll of her eyes, "No, but they work together for the benefit of all." Yeah guys, can't we all just get along?

"Exactly. I'm sure the Captain has done his bit — I happen to know Eala has a lot of involvment with the guard. We all have our skills, and are better off putting them to use where they do the most good. No harm meant." En'rys assures gently. It wasn't a slam against the Guard Captain in the slightest; neither side can be everywhere at once. More is better in this place, where nasty things can happen with even the best eyes. "Xanthee… there's no reason to stop using the facilities, just be a bit wary, eh? Like everyone else should be, male or female." He's egalitarian that way; risk assessment is key! He's not worried about the aftermath of tears — they happen, like all else.

It's not that Rafevahn isn't fond of dragonriders in general; his father is one, and he's at least decently okay with the man. But he's definitely reading shade into the idea that Eala had the biggest contribution to recruiting people — then again, these people aren't that great, so … "Parhelion is an augment to the guards, not the guard force itself," he reminds, "And we do work together, so it'd be good to recall that there are lots of people besides riders here. If you're going to be irked with me for insisting — correctly — that Wingleader Eala isn't in charge of the guard, accurately, then try to fix it by saying everyone works together … it's not really okay to forget the leadership of the guard, by that argument." But the thugs are definitely Eala's fault.

Beris watches with cool interest as Xanthee argues her corner with Rafevahn. Her klah doesn't last much longer; she stands, gathering up her coat onto one crooked arm. Just gonna get out of here before someone gets punched, or something! "I better head off. Nice to speak to you all…" Even though she's not exactly introduced herself to those she doesn't know! But, eh - if she's worried about it, Beris doesn't show it, sauntering off to put her mug with the other dirty dishes for collection and slipping her jacket back on before she heads out into the chilly morning.

"I don't think anyone's arguing with you over who is in charge of the guards Rafe, so hold your runners there," Xanthee says with a flash of her emerald eyes, "All I was trying to say was.." and it looks like Xan isn't going to finish that thought because a runner boy who had been hovering in the background finally can't wait anymore and he comes up to speak to the young woman in hurried, low tones. "What? Now?" she asks the youth who just nods his head before taking a few steps back. "Sorry, I've had a meeting moved up on me." She looks pointedly at the greenrider, "We'll do drinks soon," she says in a tone that won't take no for an answer with an affirmative node before heading off to follow the boy at a quick walk.

"Nobody said any such thing, here. If you chose to hear that, then that is something I'm not going to argue about. Not here, not anywhere. I merely asked a question." En'rys points out calmly. And needless to say, I was not always a rider — I know full well that riders are not everything, so kindly reserve the lectures for others." There's a glint of impatience for the man's innsistence on finding insult where there was none. And, since he's now done with his meal, he grins over at Xanthee, good humor still in effect. "Mhm. And I have to go find some things for my weyr. See you around."

"Nobody said any such thing, here. If you chose to hear that, then that is something I'm not going to argue about. Not here, not anywhere. I merely asked a question." En'rys points out calmly. "And needless to say, I was not always a rider — I know full well that riders are not everything, so kindly reserve the lectures for others." There's a glint of impatience for the man's innsistence on finding insult where there was none. And, since he's now done with his meal, he grins over at Xanthee, good humor still in effect. "Mhm. And I have to go find some things for my weyr. See you around."

Rafevahn gives a polite salute-wave to Xanthee as she departs, but he's just staring at En'rys blankly. "Uh," is all he says, with a little bit of a shrug. "Pretty sure I didn't say any of that? But if you choose to hear that," Yeah. He's a teenage boy, what did you expect? "I'm definitely not lecturing. Pointing out that someone says something dumb'n contradicts themselves is only polite." He's content enough to go back to his meal in private, awaiting the next wave of people who choose to sit down.

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