03:57 PM
Logfile from Flandynn.

Xanadu Weyr - Caverns(#8800RJs)
A massive cavern in it's own right, this one has been skillfully adapted for human habitation. The high ceilings have been painted a light, soft ivory, as are the walls where numerous tapestries hang to provide brilliant color and insulation from the stone. The floor has been left in its natural state, pale pink granite speckled through with glittering mica and dark flecks of basalt, leveled carefully but kept sufficiently rough to avoid slips.
The cavern itself is loosely divided into areas, each one set up to be suitable for some segment of the Weyr's population. The most frequently occupied area, however, is the one near the Kitchens where tables of varying sizes provide a place to sit down and eat or chat and a buffet of consumables is almost always kept stocked. Its plain that on most days, this area wouldn't accommodate anywhere near the full population of the Weyr and equally plain that on such occasions when a formal meal is laid out, tables are appropriated from all the other areas.
A big fireplace is set into the wall near the Kitchens as well, several comfortable chairs nearby providing haunts for elderly residents or riders who like a good view of all that happens. Rugs cover the floor in strategic spots, all of them abstract or geometric in design and most in the softly neutral colors of undyed wool.
Exits lead off in all directions, a big archway the largest and that leading outside. Shallow stairs to the west lead to the offices and administration area while tunnels to the east lead to the infirmary, kitchen and resident's quarters. Southwards, a sloping tunnel leads down to the hot springs and southwest is a wide tunnel, carefully roped off to avoid accidents.
People: Flandynn and M'nol
Other: Adoption Object, Wing Duties, Auntie Jackie, NPC Object, and Betting Table
Obvious exits:
Store Room <SR> Kitchen <K> Hot Springs <S> Clearing <O> Administration Hallway <AH>

Flandynn frowns. Oh, how he frowns. It is the sort of frown that puckers up that wrinkle between his eyebrows, purses his lips, tightens his eyes, and causes the teen to mutter a curse. Perched upon the ground (yes, the ground), the teen is settled with legs folded, and the scattered pieces of a wooden toy tumbled about him. "Why the shards is this so difficult…" Sitting across from him, looking rather small upon a stool, is a five turn old boy, completely with pouty lip and crossed arms, scowling most fiercly at Flandynn. "I'll… I'll get it figured out. Just give me a moment."

M'nol was on his way to snag some food, but now he just can't help but stop and stare at the candidate, the child, and the toys. What the shard? The short, stocky assistant Weyrlingmaster is forced to puzzle the scene before him for a moment before drawing closer and clearing his throat gently, "A-chem?"

Flandynn drags fingers back through his hair, looking more and more perplexed at the toy's pieces. He shrugs his shoulders, reaches down for something that looks like a leg, and another, and another and a fourth, fiddling with them 'til they are attached to a torso. Hrm, seems to be another leg laying there. He bobbles the head of the wooden runner, frowning as something doesn't quite happen as it should. "Uhm. Oh wait, I think I see it…" Legs are plucked from the body as the teen looks up, spying M'nol across the way, "Know anything about toys?"

M'nol watches Flandynn's display with interest for several moments before he nods, "A few things… Can't really tell what you're trying to put together there, though." He tips his head a bit, as if a different angle will help, then shrugs, "Does it get a head?"

"If you-" Before Flandynn can continue, the six turn-old abruptly pipes up. "If you bobble the head the legs are supposed to move. He broke it." Flandynn blinks, "I didn't break it." "OH YES YOU DID! YOU bumped me." Flandynn's lips twist into quite the perplexed line, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug over something he hasn't a chance to defend himself against -probably because it is true. "I'm trying to fix it though!" He bobbles the head, and the splayed legs of the wooden runner just stick out at all angles. "Uhmmmmm."

M'nol can't quite contain the smirk at the lad's insistence that the candidate is too blame, "Oh, he did, did he?" He crouches down for a closer look, "Seems like he should ought to fix it, then." He leans in, peering at the workings, then shrugs, "I'm a harper, not a woodcrafter. But it seems to me the legs should probably either go down or the front ones forward and the back ones back… you might ask Karona for help. She's a smith, right?"

"I could. But it is just a wooden toy, how hard can it be?" Apparently it can be pretty fardling hard, because this toy sure has Flandynn baffled. He is back to plucking off the legs of the runner, the head of the thing immediately dropping and drooping with a clatter of wood on wood. The teen's eyes seem almost to cross. "Okay, lets try the legs again here." Front leg goes in the hind leg slot. "THAT IS WRONG!" Pouting child is given a look by the candidate, and then an almost pleading glance back to M'nol. "Just a creative mistake there.. uhm." He seems to be saying that a lot. "I think I'm missing a piece. Is there a tail?"

M'nol chuckles, finally lowering himself to a sit, "So, is the head supposed to be up or down when the legs aren't moving?" That's clearly directed at the child before glancing at Flandynn, "You paired off the legs yet so you know which set is which? Seems that'd make it easier." His eyes scan the blanket for a tail, "Would a tail be solid or mobile?"

"It was solid." There was a good chance Flandynn was using it for a leg. "Oh. Oh… Wait. Wait a moment." He reaches out to take up a piece. Nope, that'd be a runner's leg. "I uhm… no, I didn't do that." Pairing the legs off? That'd require forethought. And then, just to add insult to injury, as Flandynn moves the body of the runner, the head wobbles and then falls right off at the next. Flandynn looks shocked with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. The child looks just as stunned.

M'nol eyes the rolling head for a moment, then glances at the lad, then back to the candidate, one hand outstretched, "Why don't you let me take a look?" Can't do any worse, now can he? "Don't worry, lad, we'll get it working again." One brow arches indicatively, "With all the legs in the right place, right candidate? Wouldn't look good for you to break your dragon if'n you impress, now would it?"

Flandynn squeezes his eyes shut, and then hands over the poor remains of the decapitated, delegged runner over to M'nol. His breath leaves his lungs in a long and heavy sigh, shooting a worried look across to the child. "If this candidacy thing doesn't work out for me, I guess I'd have a pretty good chance at being the guy that the nannies threaten their kids with. 'If you are naughty, I'll give all of your toys to Flandynn.' I can hear the cries now." Dark eyes turn to M'nol, praying he is a savior to repairing this poor toy.

M'nol's fingers fiddle briefly with the mechanism, seeing how one bit moves the next. Head bobs, legs go run run. Not too complicated and it looks like flandynn hasn't broken the actual mechanism, at least. The head is returned first, fitted into its hole. The tail is found next (doot-dee-doo!) and returned, then the legs in careful order. He bobs the head, the legs move. He smirks, "Alright, then. Get your momma to glue the bits back in right, alright? Don't want him falling apart again, now do we?" His voice takes on a slightly harder edge as he turns towards Flandynn. "And you, candidate. I'd like you to contemplate the importance of asking for help when it's necessary or you find something beyond you and how these things will apply should you impress."

Flandynn's eyes watch every single move that M'nol makes, moving in closer to the rider to hmmm and ohhhh over each and every fiddling move that M'nol makes to put that poor, abused runner back to rights. During this process, the little boy bounces forward, and eagerly takes back the toy. Oh, the look that the kid shoots at the candidate could probably wilt a flower. Flandynn glances askance to M'nol, looking just a tad repentant, "That's a… uh… good idea, rider sir. A very good idea. Faranth knows what'll happen if my dragon were to get knocked over and I'd have to pick up the pieces -dragonhealer to the rescue!"

Flandynn cringes. Oh, how he cringes. Writing. In a blink the teen is all kinds of conciliatory. "Oh! Oh. Absolutely, sir. Take care of things. Don't fiddle with things I know nothing about. I'll spend the rest of the day in my cot, staring at the ceiling and thinking really, really hard about all of the things that I'll need to rely upon. Yes, sir." He shoots another glance to the child, that Rubik's cube of a runner from the hells of Rukbat, and makes a retreat.

M'nol's impish smirk just grows and grows as Fandynn makes his apologies and platitudes, "So long as you don't shirk your chores, candidate Flandynn." One brow arches indicatively, "And always remember that the weyrlingmasters are everywhere."

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