Who

K'ane, Kultir, Linden, Nathanael, Quentin, Tuli

What

K'ane takes a handful of candidates on a field trip. Tuli tries to break it up. Shenanigans.

When

It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month of the first turn of the 12th pass. It is the twenty-fifth day of Summer and 21 degrees. It's cold and dark out.

Where

The Springs, Ice Fields

OOC Date

 

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The Springs

HOT SPRINGS. Right now this is still in a huge state of disarray, but it is WARM in here… nicely warm. The room slopes downwards into vast pools of water, and it's a nice place to hang out from the chill of the outside.


Maybe he got restless. Maybe he was just tired of the HUNDRED DEGREE HEAT. Or, more likely, K'ane just wanted to have a bro night and guess what there aren't that many guys he likes to hang out with in Southern. Therefore, he went and gathered up a strange little group of male candidates and dragged them to the hold, for no reason than because he said so. And they are getting the tour — even though some of them have likely been here before. First the frosty courtyard, then the huge atrium, the stately main hall… and now into the chaos of an evening-cleared ledge above the hot springs, where steam makes it nice without making it over-hot — it's a balmy 75 in here, nothing insane. K'ane takes a DEEP BREATH and gestures. "An' this is why this hold is gonna work," he announces.

Linden hasn't been here before yet, and the young Candidate had to borrow some warmer clothes from the store caverns because his dad didn't bring his heavy things. "Why?" Linden asks sullenly. "'cuz there's one good spot in the entire place?" Tropical boy is /sulking/.

Nathanael almost has wandered away SEVERAL times already. Especially when seriously, was that snow outside? Guys, can they go back and look at the snow again? Please, that white stuff is cool (or cold) and Nathanael wants to TOUCH IT. And maybe throw it. Or something like that. But somehow he'd resisted the urge to go and do that so he's here, right next to Linden, looking around. "'s Warm!"

Kultir had loosened his outer garments when they got into the sheltered interior even if it wasn't all that much warmer overall until they got closer to this room. Goggles have been removed and stuffed into a pocket and now the young tracker is breaking out in a sweat as his several layers is too much in the moist heat of this chamber that he's only seen once before. "Hmm … I can see why it might. Will they be piping some of this heat into the rest of the hold or are they going to make people wear four layers all the time?" The thick outer coat is unfastened down the front and the second coat he wears beneath it unbuttoned as well.

Have you ever seen what steam does to curls? Quentin is totally sporting an afro right now, thank you. And it's not a very pretty sight. Finger-combing vainly at his damp, tangled hair, the boy peers around, taking in the springs thoughtfully. "Are they sulfur springs?" he inquires, sniffing at the air, "Or is the water clean?" It's no use, Quinn. That mop on your head isn't going to settle down as long as you're in this part of the Hold.

"Don't make me push you into th' hot springs," K'ane smirks at Linden before removing something from his jacket — a flask — which he tosses at the boy. "Catch. That should warm y'up." What? Liquor to a MINOR? K'ane. The bronzerider grins at Nate's eternal energy, shrugs broad shoulders at Kultir: "That's what I would do, but I'unno. Y'know how Renalde is." To Quentin: "Clean, s'far as I know. 'Least it doesn't smell like rotten eggs, y'know?"

Linden barely catches the flask, since he has to untangle his sullenly crossed arms to do it. He looks at K'ane in shock and surprise, and then looks nervously at Nathanael. Should he? Is this a test? Fumbling, he manages to get the top off.

Is he suppose to focus on one particular thing? Too bad, becuase Nathanael isn't up for that. He leans over and tries to see inside the flask. "Mayhap 's jus' klah. 'r somethin'. Ye ain't gonna be knowin' till ye taste'er." And then Linden is getting ABANDONED. Nathanael skirts those hot springs to go find a rock somewhere to climb upon.

Kultir's gaze lifts from unfastening his thick fur clothing to see Linden catch the flask tossed to him. When the kid fumbles the flask open, he reaches out and around the boy's shoulder to pluck it from those mittened hands before the youth can take a drink. "You wanna lose your knot, Linden?" His tone is good natured as he recaps the flask though he can't hide the sigh of regret. The one thing the young tracker misses is his whiskey but he's not taking any chances. Tossing the flask back to K'ane, he shrugs slightly with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, sir but … he's still underage and I'd hate him to lose his knot when we get back and the Weyrlingmasters smell booze on him."

What, K'ane give booze to Candidates? It would never happen. Quentin watches back and forth between the bronzerider and the other candidates with some interest, staying out of the way of that flying flask - and the possibility of trouble that comes with it. His nose wrinkles - just a touch - at Kultir's response, but otherwise there's no outward sign of the boy's amusement at the older candidate's high-handed manner. Giving up on his hair, he wanders away from the general group, drawn towards the steaming pools. Oooh. Shiny.

Oh, there's whiskey in there, not just klah. K'ane doesn't work with blunted weapons. "Did I ask for your permission, candidate?" is his idle question for Kultir, as he tosses the flask back to Linden; there's a smirk for Linden's fumbling, otherwise. And he eyes off at Nate: "Don't go killin' yourself. First time we wandered back here I fell right into that damned pool," K'ane points it out, right THERE. "Weird as hell." He paces after Nathanael, staring down into the pools below. "I wonder if they're gonna block this off. Can y'imagine," questioning Quentin as he pulls abreast, "Watchin' people take baths? It'd be creepy."

Linden pouts when Kultir takes the flask from him. "Hey! What if it was just klah?" POUT. More pouting. And a HUFF. Then a GRIN. He catches the flask and takes a sip. Cough. He carefully closes it and walks over to /hand/ it back to K'ane, like the kid in the Sandlot. Then he gives Kultir a triumphant grin, and tromps off after Nathanael. "But it's so warm up here. They should put a restaurant up here." What?

Kultir sighs softly as the rider tosses the flask back to Linden and shakes his head silently. His attention turns pointedly away from the youth so that he can truthfully say he didn't see the kid drink from it. The ceiling is given a glance before the pools draw his gaze as he moves in that direction a few steps, listening to the other's conversation.

"I imagine it depends on who's taking the bath," comes Quentin's laconic response, lips twitching just slightly. "I can imagine there's some people as wouldn't mind being able to spy on the bathers, yes?" What, like his father? Probably. "Can't say I'd want anyone watching me, of course - but fortunately, I don't think I'd be the target of anyone's roving eye." This is said completely without concern or self-depreciation; simple statement of fact. One gawky, unfinished teenager is hardly anyone's stalk material. "Restaurant?" Distracted, the boy turns and stares at Linden. "Dinner and a show, eh?"

Oh, Nathanael isn't suppose to get hurt? He pauses, halfway up a rather bulbous stalagmite to look backwards at the AWLM, then down at the pool, then upwards. Right, he's not done scrambling upwards. Excuse him while he finishes that. It's like a tree. Made of ROCK.

"What, y'don't want any?" That's K'ane to Kultir, extending out the flask with an ENTIRELY serious, "What happens at th' Ice Fields stays in th' Ice Fields." He keeps an eye on Linden and Nate but otherwise doesn't — what on EARTH is Nate doing? The bronzerider snorts in amusement at Quentin, "You'd be surprised. There're all kinds, m'boy." Even people who get off on gawky, unfinished teenagers taking a bath. "Wait. Restaurant?" He didn't hear Linden the first time, apparently.

Linden shrugs, "It's just a nice place to eat. It's warm. You could eat without your teeth chattering." He stops at the base of the rock and starts to climb up after Nathanael. "It's nice in here! Restaurant. And then you could eat as messy as you wanted and then just go for a swim."

Geeze K'ane, he's climbing. Upwards. Because he sees something SHINY. Talk of restaurants is not going to stop him from going UP. "I dunno, there be some what I dunno if'n I'd be wantin' t' be watchin get all not dirty while I was tryin' t' eat m'pastries. Tho'… there be some… Ye know. 'cuz they be lookin' pretty." He's finally reached his goal, a ledge at the top of that scramble where he plops his butt down and watches Linden follow. "Careful, 's slippery right there."

Kultir looks at the older man and then the flask, torn between accepting and refraining before he nods slightly. "Thank you, sir. But I better not. Some folks back at Southern would drop me between if I did anything against the rules this time around." His imagination brings up an image of his little brother, S'yn, not to mention the disappointment Kalea would express in rather more personal ways. He lifts a hand to wave off the flask even though his mouth waters at the thought of the whiskey he can almost smell from the flask.

"I… don't know, Linden," Quentin says slowly, staring at his friend with a mixture of amusement and horror. "The idea of eating where I can watch others bathe kind of, uhm… doesn't sit well in the stomach." He edges slightly closer to K'ane - because, somehow, said bronzerider is safer? - and peers down at the water again, then shivers. "No, no, I don't think a resturaunt would be a good idea - for the diners or for the bathers." Kultir catches his attention and he cranes his neck to peer at the hunter. "This time?" Story? Story?

K'ane gives a shrug to Kultir: "Your loss, man. If y'think the butter queen cares about y'havin' a nip of whiskey, you've done lost your mind." And since it has been obvious that K'ane has been made the spokesperson of the weyrlingmasters in the absence of an actual weyrlingmaster… Well. More whiskey for him? Or something. He takes a nip and then offers the flask over to Quentin. For Linden and Nate he has a THOUGHTFUL expression. "Well, y'could do a restaurant around one of those curves… pipe in th' air somehow, but not have full sight of th' bathers." The bronzerider has a mess of candidates out in the springs, obviously, and he's contributing to their delinquency. Is there any REAL surprise?

Linden scrambles up the last section to flop down beside Nate, legs swinging. "Yeah, I can think of some I'd like to watch." Uh, creepy? Or just teenage boy…y? Now that he's back in the warmth his sulking has eased.

OMG A GIRL. (Pay no mind to any LIARS and BAD FARMERS who add an 'allegedly' in there.) Tuli is, one presumes, here on official business relating to something or another domestic: goldriders tend to be. Here she comes now, but quietly: the boys' voices have alerted her to their presence long before she's within sight, and she's learned certain tricks from her lifemate over the turns. And thus, suddenly, Tuli. Right behind K'ane. "Hello." Said so sweetly, yet so malevolently.

Nathanael kicks his heels again, this time sending a rock skipping down into the hotsprings several feet below. "Tho' she be like a sister, ye know… Prymelia be real pretty. 'n Dione." Just excuse the teenage boys up there, they're going to talk about girls for a bit. And no one can stop them. Oh! But HI! Nathanael reaches up a hand and waves (and gives something like a salute) to Tuli. "A'lo Ma'am!" He yells. Does this place echo?

"A'lo… Allo… A'lom… Al'ma… Al'am…"

Kultir offers a wry smile and another shrug to the assistant weyrlingmaster and tries to keep the longing for a taste of that burning liquid warming his core in the frigid cold of this new Hold. Turning back to the chamber before them, he frowns at the thought of having people watch while he got naked and tried to wash properly in the pools. He's not that much of a nudist to willingly allow people to watch him if they aren't also close enough for him to see them in return … fairs fair, right? At the sound of a more feminine voice in that sweetly threatening tone, the young tracker is more than glad now that he hadn't had a nip of the whiskey.

Renalde walks in from the Main Hall.

Renalde drops Penguin.

Renalde walks to the Main Hall.

[OOC:] Tuli says "Where's a seal when we need one?"

[OOC:] Kultir giggles. Or killer whale?

[OOC:] K'ane is going to TOTALLY make Fy make one of those on Monday.

[OOC:] K'ane says "Maybe he can code it so that if the seal ever comes upon the penguin he eats it."

[OOC:] Nathanael says "I hate you so much."

Nathanael picks up Penguin.

Oh, a flask. Quentin eyes K'ane for a long moment, perhaps seeking duplicity, but in the end, he takes the flask and pops the top, allowing a small amount of the whiskey to drip into his mouth. Coughing hoarsely, he caps it back and offers it to the bronzerider, reaching up with his free hand to wipe away the tears gathering below his eyes. First time, eh? "I can't," he states for Linden. "Haven't met anyone yet I'd like to get a better look at." Good thing the ladies aren't here, yep. But - that's a female voice? Startled, the boy twists around to get a good look at Tuli and stammers, "Ma'am." So much for this sausage fest. Well, as far as he knows, anyway.

K'ane jumps, because he's a dumbass. "Motherf…" He glares at Tuli. "Dammit woman, how th' hell do you do that?" His voice is a mite bit plaintive. And accusatory. And: "Whiskey?" he offers the flask after it's returned from Quentin. "They're talkin' about watchin' nude girls down there takin' baths." He gestures down the ledges to the hot springs below. "I think it sounds like great fun, but I'm guessin' holders wouldn't go for that kinda shit." He ignores the 'Prym and Dione be real pretty' from up in the corner and focuses on the goldrider for the MOMENT.

Linden nods, "Yeah, they're both pretty. And there's that one laundry girl, she's always got a wet top…" Etc. The sight of Tuli has Linden looking startled, as he salutes smartly. He grins at Quentin. "Aww, c'mon. /No one/?"

Nathanael STARES at Quentin. He's like the most innocent teenager out there, and even he has looked at the Southern women. "'re ye crazy?" A shake of blond locks as he turns to look at Linden, and lowers his voice to mutter.

You overhear Nathanael mutter, "… … somethin'… … … … there? … Southern's … got LOTS've … …" to Linden.

"You're just deaf," explains Tuli to K'ane, far too kindly. "And also an idiot." The woman nods regally at the various salutes being flung her way, dark eyes flicking in measured turn from one candidate to another. She stares at them. Measures them. Finds them WANTING. "Yes, I will take that flask." She does. "I will keep this flask." She tucks it away in a belt pouch, and then returns to STARING, hands tucked behind her back. "What are you boys," K'ane is not excluded from that categorization, "up to?"

Kultir can't stop the blush that colors his cheeks at the regard of the goldrider and catches his lower lip in his teeth to keep from blurting anything out for now as the woman claims that flask and tucks it away. He's not entirely sure why they are here, other than the fact that K'ane had them join him for a trip to the new Hold. The young tracker shuffles as well as he can on the semi-slick flooring and glances from one youth to another before his gaze settles on the two riders, hoping that the bronzerider will answer for them all.

Way to make a guy feel self-conscious. Aware of the stares directed at him, Quentin hunches his shoulders slightly, dipping his head forward in an attempt to get his frizzing curls to cover his face. It doesn't work so well when his mop is more of a bush at the moment. Hunkering down in a crouch, the boy fixes his gaze firmly on the water. Look! Ripples! So fascinating! "No one," he replies curtly. Good thing his father's not here to hear this particular confession. And: "Nothing." His response to Tuli is marginally less sulky. Slightly.

Nathanael totally has an answer to Tuli's question. His voice rings out from his perch on the ledge as he kicks around rock down into the water to make RIPPLES. "We was jus' learnin' what 'e springs was good f'r, 'n was cold, so was gettin' somethin' what ain't gonna be makin' it cold no more." Which is a way to say that they're talking about naked ladies and drinking liquor.

"Oh no, if y'ain't drinkin' you aren't allowed t'stay." K'ane is not concerned about the petty whims of goldriders who impressed AFTER he did. Nope. Not even. He snatches at his flask and crinkles his nose in her direction. "Though I guess I should expect that from a woman with as outmoded ideas in crop rotation," he accuses her. Vaguely to Linden, maybe to the whole group; "Aw, leave off Quentin." And a DELICIOUSLY WICKED grin: "Maybe he'd rather be watchin' men bathe." A wink to Tuli. "Ain't nothin' wrong with that, aye, Tules?" But then.. "What?" Even K'ane can't follow that, Nate.

Linden tilts his head to listen to Nate's mutter, and then he grins, muttering back. "We're up here!" That's what they're up to, as he grins down at Tuli. "Aww, Quentin, don't feel bad!" he calls. "It's okay. Climb up here with us! It's awesome up here. Nate. Scoot over."

You overhear Linden mutter, "… … … … girls? … … … ask … there's … … he'd … to … … better look …" to Nathanael.

What, no one understood what he said? Nathanael shrugs and does what Linden suggests, while looking rather speculativly at Quinten. "Ye know, there ain't no'un what be like that 'n Nerat." Louder, "Common Quentin! Jus' be watchin' ye step, 's slippery." He scoots over so that Linden can do the same. See? Room.

"You are a disgrace. A shitty candidate babysitter AND a shitty farmer." K'ANE IS NOT GETTING HIS FLASK BACK: it has been seized. As EVIDENCE. Tuli sidesteps hastily to stay out of retrieval range, though she attempts to look dignified during the shuffle. It's not… fully successful. Half an eye warily on the bronzerider lest he make another grab for her (his) booze, the woman eyes the Candidates. She also stares at Nathanael. "What?" What? "WELL. No more drinking. Don't kill yourselves in here." That one is added as a less important afterthought. "We have rules."

Kultir winces slightly as Tuli expresses her displeasure at K'ane and manages to look a little contrite when her gaze falls on him too. He continues edging toward where Linden and Nathanael are perched though he doesn't care to climb up where they are, just a little out of his element and wondering just how much trouble they've gotten themselves into. "Yes, ma'am," he murmurs at the firm statement of fact the goldrider makes. A soft sigh issues from his lips as he ponders the differences between the two riders, amber eyes flicking between them before he finds himself a spot to lean against a stalagmite and try to stay out of more trouble.

And for this part of our tour, we'll have the rare opportunity to watch a teenage boy act like a teenage boy. Pushing himself to his feet, a red-faced Quentin bursts out with, "No one!" and flings himself back towards the main hall. He's not quite so far gone in his hissy fit to actually leave the group - he does, however, tuck himself far enough in the back that he's pretty much out of line-of-site of most of the group. Aww, so cute. Sulky Quinn. Complete with frizzing afro.

"Oh, right. 'Cause you were the MODEL candidate. Should I tell them ALL ABOUT you havin' to kiss Rysta's ass forever 'cause they all but tied y'all together after you two got into a physical FIGHT?" K'ane taunts Tuli with entirely too much knowledge from when she was fourteen and gawky-limbed. "What happens in the Ice Fields stays in the Ice Fields," he solemnly states to the goldrider. "Give me my damn flask back. If I want t' get candidates drunk, I can DAMNED well get candidates drunk." Sorry candidates-in-question (especially you, hurt!Quentin), but he is currently sidetracked. No parental supervision when mommy and daddy are fighting. Now he REALLY goes for his flask, though: Tuli's going to have to run like a hen with her head cut off to get him off her ass this time. What's it gonna be, Tules?! DIGNITY or adherance to weird DOUBLE STANDARDS?

Linden frowns at goldrider and bronze, shifting his weight a bit as he scoots over. "They're fighting," he whispers to Nate. "Why are they fighting?" And then Quinn is upset. Linden squeaks. "I've got bubblies." What? He's then sliding down that slippery slope rather quickly, to hasten over to Quinn - or try to at least - and hold out a slightly smushed bubblie pie wrapped in wax cloth. "Here, it's warm because it's been in my pocket." But that makes it good. He will IGNORE the fighting grown-ups.

Nathanael peers down at Tuli and K'ane. Mommy and Daddy are fighting. When Linden scoots down that slippery slope Nathanael peers after him, then back to K'ane and Tuli. Maybe he can slip away for a bit and go to find snow. That would be fun.

"Excuse me," begins Tuli, heatedly, temporarily forgetting all about the poor Candidates. (Even poor Kultir, trying SO HARD to be well-behaved.) "I wasn't a Candidate when that happened, I was an apprentice. And I was PROVOK -" Aw shit K'ane is making for the flask. The goldrider has to think fast, but she doesn't necessarily think wisely. Quentin sulked off? That means he's a little further away than the rest? Well then! "CATCH!" Sure, sure, huff and puff about safety and then throw (other people's) flasks around like footballs. Where's Hannah when they need her? Someone really needs to be a good role model.

Are you KIDDING right now Tuli. Hannah has broken every rule set IN FRONT OF HER.

Crap that's true. Uh. Who IS a good role model? Is ANYONE?

K'vvan.

Sienna.

HAH.

When the two riders actually start arguing, Kultir stares in shock at the sight since the only time he's heard a goldrider shout … she was shouting at him and he didn't have a chance to say anything. Now there's a game of keep-away going on with the flask and he watches as it archs toward Quentin. Well, the kid better get rid of it fast before K'ane catches up with him. After several moments of shock, the scene is actually rather funny and causes the young tracker to chuckle softly as his his eyes shine with amusement. Even though he's finding enjoyment in this oddly uncomfortable situation, he's still trying to stay as far out of the line of fire as he can … which isn't all that far being only a few feet from Quentin as it is.

Quentin is clearly wavering between standing his sulky ground and the scent - and sight - of squished bubbly pie. Dark blue eyes dart over Linden, searching for any of the teasing of before. Just as he reaches out to take the peace offering, however, suddenly he's accosted by a flying flask to the face. Catching it reflexively in one hand as it drops, he reaches up to his battered nose with the other, darting a glare at Tuli. "Ow." Just for that? Open goes the flask, back goes the head, and the Candidate takes a long, deep gulp of the whiskey. Because, yeah, he totally needed that. Cough! "Ow. Again."

Nathanael kicks his heels up there on his perch and watches. Don't mind him, he's just being an odd duck and is totally out of harms way. Take that K'ane, his climing = out of the scuffle completly.

"HA. HA! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" K'ane is all but doing a VICTORY dance at Quentin downing that whiskey. "SEE. THEY ARE MY CANDIDATES NOT YOURS." AHAHAHAHA. Well, except for maybe Kultir, who seems very much more Tuli's type of candidate, all things said and done. "Apprentice, candidate, whatever. Same difference. You were a hoity little know-it-all bitch." His grin is irrascible: "I guess some things never change, Farmer. Right, boys?" That's to all the rest of them. Hint: don't answer that, children.

Linden turns quickly when Quentin is hit with the flask. "Hey!" he says, eyes going wide. "You don't throw things at people! You two really need to stop yelling at each other and act like grown-ups. Both of you. Stop it." His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide when he realizes what he just said. But you know what? He stands his ground, half in front of Quentin.

Little Linden who COULD. (Be an adult.)

Hic.

Linden doesn't take after his mother OR his father…

Nathanael is up there on his perch and now STARING at Linden. Did… he just yell at K'ane and Tuli? Because that's like. Woah. Respect there man. R. E. S. P. E. C. T.

"You all FAIL." Tuli throws her hands up in the air. (Like she just don't care.) "Especially YOU." K'ane gets poked in the chest, before Tuli stomps over towards Quentin, hand held impetuously out for the flask. "Sorry, kid, I thought you'd see it co - HEY." She can't actually… disagree… with Linden's point, so she doesn't, even though she blatantly blatantly desperately wants to. But she does draw herself up, awash with dignity. And she does give him the Skull Eye.

Kultir blinks. Just blinks. At Quentin, at Linden, at K'ane and then at Tuli. He's just in shock at the whole situation, not an easy thing to do to the young man who has seen so much discord in his life. Frowning at the goldrider's declaration, he grits his teeth and huffs a sigh as his ears start turning red. He will control his temper, but by the first egg … it's damned hard right now.

"We ain't the ones bitchin' up a storm in front of a bunch of kids," Quentin tells Tuli bluntly - and with no little slurring. There's a problem when you give a kid who's probably never had hard liquor before a long gulp of whiskey. It goes to his head. Weaving slightly as he ducks around the side of Linden opposite the goldrider, he evades her outstretched hand, tucking the flask behind his back. Shaking his head to try and clear it, he stumbles back a pace. "No offence, ma'am," which is probably the dumbest phrase ever, "but I ain't givin' you squat. Ain't yours." Nor, mind, does he seem inclined to give it over to K'ane, either. Hic.

"He's got a point," K'ane mildly comments about Linden's little outburst. His grin gets more-crookeder. "Dhioth's super proud of you right now, kid. Keep up th' good work." The man BURSTS into laughter at Quentin: "Oh, you're your father's son alright, you damned well are." He's not put out by it. He just find sit HILARIOUS. But he does turn with a PUT UPON SIGH towards the exit, "C'mon, y'all. Even y'little drunk sot. Time for everyone t' go back t' bed before th' evil goldrider tries t' scalp us for bein' men." And with THAT he's marching for the exit. Does he slap Tuli on the ass as he goes? It's possible. He's incorigible.

Linden steps aside when Tuli walks to Quentin, because she's scary and he doesn't think she'll actually hurt his friend more than…she already has. When she gives him the skull eye he curls into himself just a little bit, shoulders hunching, head dipping, but he doesn't look away. Until K'ane speaks, and Linden's eyes flick to the bronzerider, cheeks flushing. Then he's being used as a shield? "Quinn," he hisses. "Give it back…"

"I'm going to FEED YOU TO ELICHERITATH." It's not really clear who Tuli is saying that to, a hand thrown up in dramatic exasperation. (But let's be real, it's totally K'ane.) It might be better to skedaddle before she proves evidence one way or another, though.

"Does that mean we ain't gonna be talkin' 'bout buildin' a food place 'ere? 'cuz, ye know, I'm bettin' ye could like, be usin' this'n as a slide 'n what not." Nathanael shows just how well that slick rock of his could be used as a slide when he slips down it again. At the bottom he bounces a bit and skips right up next to Tuli. "Ye know ma'am, they got snow outside. Ye e'er been playin' in it?" What? Nathanel's just going to ignore all of what just happened and focus on ths important things in life. Snow.

Kultir follows the bronzerider with a deep sigh, wondering just how things will work out from here. He winces as he edges past Tuli with a slight nod of respect though his eyes remain downcast, his cheeks still red with the suppressed frustration and anger.

"We'd prolly just give her indi- indig- in-di-gest-chun." Eyes nearly crossed, Quentin manages to spit out the proper word, with a sloppy grin of self-congratulation crossing his face. "That." He shoves his hands in his pockets - that pesky flask has been tucked somewhere - and rocks back on his heels, stumbling again as he overbalances. "Aww, Linden," and he reaches out wildly to clap the other Candidate on the shoulder - if he can control his hand long enough to make the contact, "don't worry. Look, the world's all spinny. Kinda neat." His father's son, eh? At least he's a happy drunk, content to fall in line at K'ane's heels like the good little drunken duckling that he is. Hic.

"Indigestion," K'ane solemnly agrees with Quentin's opinion of what they would all do to the poor spinner-queen. "That's exactly what would happen, an' your creepy lifemate don't deserve that just 'cause you're…" K'ane grins. "Tuli." Doesn't that say it all? "A'ight, hoodlums, let's go." He casually gestures towards the exit and swaggers that way himself… Pausing ONLY to look back at everyone with a severe expression: "Ain't nobody tellin' Renalde about this, do I make myself clear?" Because, people, third time's the charm: what happens in the Ice Fields STAYS in the Ice Fields.

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