Ya Don't Say That to Yer Ma

Siebith's Weyrbarn

Covered in rough, weathered wood, aged by the weather and the sun, the irregular grayed clapboards outside of this weyrbarn lend the place has a rustic, masculine charm. White shutters and window boxes overflowing with brightly-hued tangles of flowers on the lower windows and flowering vines twine about the supports for the porch overhang add a feminine touch, softening the stark stone steps leading to it.

The worn stone floor of Siebith's area is just inside the large sliding door. The living area of the weyrbarn has an open, airy layout gives the utilitarian, bachelor-like plain white-washed walls and simple hardwood floors a sense of wide open spaces. A sturdy mahogany-toned table with chairs that somehow manage to match despite their variety accent the earthy, wooden tones of the kitchenette. The same dark reddish hues are in the door at the far side of the barn, as well as in the low-slung coffee table in front of the plush, worn couch. Dusky sea-blue rugs are scattered here and there. Dark golden curtains hang on either side of the many windows and partition off the loft up above, led to by a black wrought iron set of ladder-like stairs. Lilies arranged in glass vases on the tables provide a crisp of white counterpoint to the dark wood tones.

A new addition, the bedroom has walls of the same plain white, but the floors are made of newer wood, still shiny with polish. A four-poster bed of the same red mahogany takes up the most of one wall of the small space, a blue-and-cream linen coverlet spread on the wide mattress. A set of wooden bureaus take up the bulk of the wall opposite while another wall has been painted upon in the very center with a seascape mural, its crisp blue waters and sandy shores. The final wall is graced by a feminine-looking writing desk stacked with papers and bedecked with knick-knacks. Over the bed, a set of stained-glass windows allows golden-brown light mingled with white whorls and blue haze to shine into the room with the rising of the sun, though both panes are able to be unlocked and swung wide to accept lake breezes.

So it's been a long evening with the Turnover celebration masquerade that capped the day-long festivities. Thea's been there all evening mingling with guests while keeping an eye on both twins, hoping for D'had to finish those last sweeps of the day and join them. It's later than the usual bedtime for the pair when she ushers them into the Weyrbarn. Muir bursts in first, strutting around with his dragon wings askew while Marella , dressed in pink sisal is still playing the little Lady Holder, enters more sedately with her mama. Thea? Still wearing her feline fur-caped dress and kitty-ears cap costume. It's too bad she has no tail. If she did, it would be lashing in irritation from the look on her face.

The fact that Siebith is laying just outside the door of the weyrbarn would indicate that sweeps have been completed, yet the interior of the barn is dark which begs the question - where is D'had? Upon entry of the trio there's a rustling sound that comes from the living area of the main floor.

It's dark. Thank you, Muir for so thoughtfully turning on the lights for them all. Thea, uncharacteristically, growls. Yes, like a feline. "Mama, do we have-" It's Marella's plaintive query hushed the moment her mother growls. Yes, now might be a good time not to ask if she could have stayed longer. Thea flips the light switch on to reveal Muir pouncing at imaginary herdbeasts or something in Siebith's stone area. At least he didn't smack into the table in the dark. They've passed Siebith, so they're all expecting to see D'had somewhere.

Lights bring muttering from the couch. The couch where D'had happens to have fallen asleep, one boot on and the other flopped over on the floor. "What in.." are the first words out of his mouth when he rolls over to spy the large mutant firelizard, otherwise known as Muir, across the room.

Muttering brings at least two pairs of eyes to the couch. The female ones anyway. "Papa!" Marella skips on over to the couch, draws up to do a sweeping curtsy and holds out a little hand, presenting him with the back of it. Muir echoes his mother's growl, but it's at something only he can see. He's made his 'kill' apparently. Thea's stifling a sigh, regretful at having woken him, but she has to deal with Muir. And thus it is to him she heads first, managing to snag one wing as he starts to twist away from her. Marella meanwhile, deigns to wriggle her hand invitingly in her daddy's face. "Here's my hand!"

It takes a moment for D'had to process that it is Muir and not some mutant firelizard, which is sure to find some annoyance in the boy's sister given that means daddy is ignoring her for that moment. "Oh. .. Yeah." is his muttered response to Marella as he pushes himself into a sitting position. Yes, it’s her hand, what about it?

Marella is in a great mood! Unlike her mother. She giggles. "Papa you're supposed to kiss it! And then ask me to dance." Thea, meanwhile simply reels in her son, who glares, "You ain't supposed to stop sweeps, Babe. They're 'portant!" His mother ignores Muir's comment and marches the boy towards the couch. "You missed the fun, Donn." Fun says Catwoman, the word implying it was anything but that while her eyes are still flashing, though it's not directed at him. "Was there trouble on sweeps?"

D'had does not, in any way shape or form, dance if there is any possible way for him to avoid it. Unfortunately even he's not immune to cute little girls in pretty pink dresses who call him daddy. He does appease her though, on the hand, leaving a kiss on the back of it before scooping her up and pushing to his feet in one movement. "They are," he agrees with Muir, "but now it's bedtime," he continues giving the boy a look that says he'll mind his mother if he knows what's good for him.

"I danced with a prince! And Mr. Matrin! And Muir wanted to dance, but not with me. And Papa, he called Daoi Sweets!" Marella's bubbling over with happy information as she's scooped up. Muir's muttering to himself about bedtime, sticking his tongue out at his sister before informing his father, "Bluerider's don't go to bed. They never sleep." He is, however, tired of wearing those miniature goggles and helmet, so the child strips those off, turning his goggle-marked face to double-eye wink at his mother, "Ain't that right, Sugar?" Thea utters a sound that might be strangled laughter or her trying not to cry. "I think someone needs to spend some time learning how a bluerider really behaves." And she's ignoring Muir's protests of her undoing the small riding jacket he's wearing.

"Even blueriders need to sleep," D'had comments. Apparently Muir missed the whole daddy sleeping on the couch moments before. "You did, huh?" is the reply that follows for Marella, "You'll have ta tell me all about it in the morning." Right now he's far too not awake to listen to that whole story right now. As for Muir, "Boy, you know what your grandmother woulda done to me if I'd called her that?" Warning.

"Now spin around, Papa." Marella's got him standing. In her mind anyway, he's dancing with her. "Eww!" That's Muir's succinct response to his father's question, complete with nose-wrinkle. "Gramma's ollllllllld! If she acted like Mama does, that would be yucky!" Thea's got the jacket off, laying it and the blue wings aside. With a firmness borne of several hours from having her patience worn thin, she lifts him onto the couch, working on prying those boots off. "You 'flew sweeps' all around the party. You are sleeping! You're going to be spending some time with your father now that he's got more time on his hands. And you," this last to D'had, "Keep him out of the tavern."

D'had can only shake his head. "No, she woulda gave me a good hard swat upside the head and made me wash the deck twice. Ya don't say that to yer Ma. Got it?" He'd better not catch him say anything of the sort again anyway. "Now bed," he finishes, pointing towards the stairs. "Tomorrow sweetie," he adds in a more mild mannered tone for Marella as he follows his own direction and heads towards the stairs. "Ain't plannin' on it," he replies back to Thea given that directive. Yes Ma'am, no taverns.

Muir considers this for a long moment. He considers his mother. Finally he says, "Okay, Da." Beat. "It's a lot more fun sayin’ it to Daoi anyway. She turns pink. Mama doesn't, 'cept when you say it." Ohh, Thea's pink now though, as she kisses Marella's cheek, then catches Muir as the boy hops up. She gives him one too, releasing the wriggle-worm right after. He's scampering up the stairs on hands and feet, apparently dropping the 'I'm a man' act, tempted into beating them both up there. "You may not be," Thea says evenly to D’had, "but I've had to head him off twice because he was determined to get in there." Tho Beldar would have dealt with him, no doubt. As for the boy’s quick tongue? Well D’had may have to get creative.

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