Kilts, booze, and Firelizards

Xanadu Weyr - Garden


An arch woven from the tendrils of a willow tree stretches overhead lightly creeping with ivy as one steps in from the meadow into this sanctuary of green. Cool gray flagstone carefully spaced enables a soft velvety moss to thrive within the cracks, and creates a single wide pathway that fluidly breaks off into two paths of stone once free of the natural arbor. It is a wonder this place, and meticulously tended from the way it seems not a single leaf is out of place. On either side of the main path expansive grassy patches are trimmed short and edged behind with natural tan colored stone selectively chosen to stack just right. Beyond these are a line of fine puffed shrubberies in vibrant green intermingled with flowering bushes of brilliant pinks varying in hue from the very light to the very dark, which causes the occasional snowy white blossoms of other scattered here and there without worry to simply pop out of the scenery.

Directly in the center of the garden is another wall of intricately stacked stone, this of muted grays, creating what from the air would prove to be a perfect circle. It's been set high for safety, but not so much as one would not be able to lean over it to admire what lies beyond, either standing or sitting at the smattering of benches whose backs are set every four feet along it. Flush to the ground inside it's protective stone outcropping, is an enormous twenty foot wide fish pond. Within one can glean the metallic glint of playful goldfish, the unhurried cruise of fat koi, and even a frog or three among pale yellow and white flowering water lilies and their thick green pads.

The trees surrounding the entire garden were planted to give the impression that they had always been here, not only lending to a rustic look, but also eluding to the beauty that can be found among the wilds if only one might just look for it. Species vary from the ordinary Birch and Pine, but the flaming red capsules of the Indian Shot to the robust orange spokes of the Firewheel tree suggest the spice of the exotic. The two paths leading away from the entrance have come full circle, wrapping around to meet each other on the other side, yet still continue on to the far left and right. One path leads off deeper into the surrounding woods, while the other wider; cheerily decorated with brightly colored slabs of painted stones.

"My point is…" Rhasmir blinks, lifting a hand. "My point /is/…this is pointless." He places a tiny dragon figurine down harder than he probably should on the board. Then takes a drink out of a bottle and passes it along. "I mean, really. It's sharding damned cold out here, Sigam." The lad nods, and sighs gustily. He's fully clad at the moment, and it's a good thing — it has stopped snowing, but there is a good layer on the ground around the two men. The wind gusts dreadfully and the trees shiver, but the two young men sit beneath one anyways, playing some strange version of the terran game Chess. It's probably a little past lunch, and almost definitely too early to be drinking. Rhas has also just moved his little dragon onto the wrong square, but doesn't seem to care, glaring down at the board fiercely. "Your turn." At his feet, a tiny canine pup sprawls, fast asleep. He is mostly ignoring it, but occasionally glances warily down at it just in case it sits up and bites him or something. The lad glances up at the cloudy sky, and scowls. "Better not snow."

"Your mother is pointless," Sigam rejoinders, eyes glaring steadily across the board at Rhasmir. It's not a disagreeable glare, but merely the glare of one that has been waiting for a very long time for a move with the Utmost Patience. "As if you feel the cold," he replies, accepting the bottle and clinging to it fiercely as he considers the move, not even blinking twice as it invades his chacker color. "/I/, for one, have transconded coldness," he says with the air of one that meant 'transcended' but doesn't really have the wits left to get there. "CAW!," he calls suddenly, picking up a dinky firelizard piece and using it to travel half the board in order to flick Rhasmir's runner off the edge. "All you, pal." After another hearty swig from the bottle, Sigam hands it back, looking sideways at his own pup. She lacks her brother's black, but is in the same state of rest beneath his seat. "What'll you do iffit does?," he slurs.

Thea enters the garden dressed in her her leathers today, leather trous, jacket, a long, sweeping thing, is the heavier fur-lined one, the hood drawn up over her head, her dark hair tumbles out on the side, unruly in this dry cold. She's got her chin tucked, hands jammed on her pockets and is scuffing through the snow with her boots, meandering through it in no particular hurry. The sound of voices is muffled by all the snow, so she doesn't hear them until she rounds the hedge and trees. There's that table, the game and wow. She just stops short with a blink. "Huh." It's a small, disbelieving sound. With a shake of her head she steps nearer with a wary, "Hello Rhasmir, um hi Sigam." For a moment it looks as though she'll move on an let insanity reign. Instead, she asks, "Besides trying to freeze to death, what are you two doing out here?" She shivers just a bit, pale green eyes flickering to the sky, then back at the pair.

Rhasmir /scowls/ fiercely at Sigam, eyes narrowing, running a hand through today-unkempt hair. "Yeah well, yours is a wher." The young man replies maturely. But he seems amused, shrugging. "S'not that cold." An eye for the sky again. "Little chilly. Firewhiskey's nice'n warm though!" Beam — "SHELLS, man! Don't /scare/ my like that!" Indeed, he nearly toppled the table, and now glares beadily at the dragonhealer. "Oi!" His poor runner on the ground is stared at sadly. Then, with immense dignity, he grabs up a skybroom tree and apparently tries to /smash/ the little firelizard. It fails, but the thing does go skittering. "I'll…I'll…" This is still being considered as he takes a swig of the whiskey, and beams at a well-bundled-up Thea. "Thea!" The trader lad calls merrily, waving. "We're not freezing, o'course. We're playing a game." He tugs at his usual vest proudly, then wiggles the half-full firewhiskey bottle. "Anozzer where this comes from, too. Care t'join us?" There is a bright smile for the goldrider. Finally, he seems to have come up with an answer for Sigam though, and turns to grin slyly at the dragonhealer. "If it snows, bet you're too much of a pansy Wherry to put on a, a," This is considered for a long moment. "Thingy. M'father gave me a pair of 'em. Said he got 'em from a techcrafter who saw it on…a thingy…says s'called a /Kilt/. Or was. With the ancients and all." He pauses, and gives Thea a beady look. "I'd let you wear mine, but it's for /boys/."

"At least whers are useful," Sigam returns archly, belying the brief moment of calmness by sticking his tongue out impetuously. "And it's not even chilly. I just can't feel my toes, that's all." This seems to be a revelation for the man, whose dark brows suddenly furrow as his chin snaps down to glare at the offending appendages, even if they are tucked safely away in his boots. "Scared ya, did I?," Sigam glances back up with a crow of victory, a high-flying smile lighting up his face. A rumble of laughter accompanies it as he dances a harp over to leer threateningly at Rhasmir's tree. "Careful of your move there, mister, or IIIII'll-" The Dragonhealer, too, trails off as a familiar, if not incredibly cocooned figure appears out of nowhere, or at least, so he suspects. "Thea!," he chimes in perfect chorus with Rhas, giving the trader only the slightest sideways glance before nodding vigorously. "Come, do grace us with your… self," he makes a face, knowing that wasn't the right word, but shrugs it off. He has /manliness/ to prove. "Shards, I heard'a those. They aren't that scary. I wouldn't even feel it, balmy as it is." He turns to Thea, the look in his eyes the patient stare of one truly well-toasted. "Watchit, Rhas. She could pack a whollop if she wanted to, yeah?" Grin!

Thea stands impassively while game pieces go skittering, whiskey is guzzled and talk of men in skirts is bandied about like an offer to the insane. She raises one slim brow at the mention of numb toes. "Hm, well you boys are welcome to them. I for one, am glad to not be included in the kilt-wearing clan." That bottle is eyed askance, "Wine I might do, but whiskey, uh, no. Thanks anyway. Too much like Igen Firewater." There's a little shake of the head, as she steps closer, ignoring her better judgment (there was more fume-free air from afar) to stand eyeing that board for a moment, finally asking into the silence with a mild, "Who's winning?"

Rhasmir /snorts/. "Useful like a shardin' knee in th' groin." Grumbles he, snickering mischeivously after a moment. "I can feel /mine/." So there. "You'll /what/?" The lad turns it into a challenge, puffing out his chest in an oh-so-manly fashion. He's not /quite/ as gone as Sigam, but he's getting there, grinning fiendishly over at Thea. "Thea wouldn't hurt me, would she, Thea? She's m'/pal/." He seems quite sure in this knowledge, and winks knowingly over at the goldrider. "Got wine. Useless canine's shardin not good for nothin', 'e ain't. Goin' to grow up and rip off me arm, the he'll shardin' /still/ not be going to fetch my wine…" Grumble. Pause. "Point bein', I've shardin' /got/ wine, but not here with me. I can run an' get it if y'like?" At least he can still remember that he has a point, right? Apparently, however, he doesn't remember that he's the last one to have moved, and studiously, he flicks a chunk of something that might be firestone all the way across the board, settling it atop one of Sig's runners. "Good question."

"You'd know all abou' tha', wouldn't yeh?," the Dragonhealer chuckles, badly imitating the trader's accent. "Yeah, well, you're also cold, and therefore a lily-liver." The immaturity, it burns! And yet, it is a cool gaze that meets Rhasmir's challenge, and Sigam smiles chillingly. "Wouldn't you like to know?" That winning smile is back just in time for his look towards Thea, at least. "Your loss then, m'dear. I think prancing about in a skirt like a great git sounds like /loads/ of fun." The sarcasm is tangible, but comes with a wink as he ignores the other man's banter about being good pals and that. "Might as well make yourself useful and fetch 'er a drink while I make a move. The dog's too small to be of use to you yet." He pauses, long fingers clasped around a dragonrider piece, face split wide in a challenging smile. "Get your skirt while you're at it." And with that, he hops and skips across any color on the board he pleases before landing beside his earlier move with a clatter. Running one hand over his stubbly chin, he flicks a look at the weyrwoman. "Winning? Uhmmm… Well. We don't know, really. We're just making it up as we go along."

"Ah, no. Don't run, I'm fine." Thea dryly answers Rhasmir hopefully before he attempts such an ill-fated venture. Running. While drunk. On icy ground. A recipe for disaster, that. "Not unless you gave me a good reason, Rhas." Sweetly reasonable is the answer to that one and a smile to go with it. The puppies are eyed dubiously as future flesh-tearing monsters, but she doesn't comment. What can she do but shake her head at Sigam and roll her eyes? "I think not. Not in this weather, unless you've a fondness for Healers. Just beware of Ashyte. He likes to pinch, um, guys." She shrugs her unconcern, her breath coming in frosty plumes on the chill air, "But hey, if you think capering about in skirts is fun, I'll not try and stop you."

Rhasmir picks up his other runner and tosses it at Sigam, snorting. "Whatever." He huffs, then takes a swig of the whiskey, passing it back. "You've a point, my ugly friend." The trader lad then agrees cheerfully. "Th'dog's not ever gonna be useful. I swear to you, th'shardin' thing is going'ta rip me shardin' arm off and eat it for lunch. Had a canine when I was a kid, it 'bout did." He nods stoutly, then beams over at Thea. "Won't run, of course." There is impish agreement as he stands. The half-asleep puppy peers up at him with sleepy adoration. "Ashyte. Good man. Cute baby." Mutters Rhas, as he attempts to pat Thea's shoulder in a reassuring fashion and misses entirely; thankfully, he doesn't end up patting her rump, just the air. "I wouldn't do anything to deserve it, o'course, dearie." Drawled in what he seems to hope is a reassuring fashion, before he's moving with over-exaggerated carefulness out of the garden. "I'll be careful! Thea! Don't let that Wherry win while I'm gone!"

Sigam reacts rather slowly to the runner hit, flinching belatedly as it hits his cheek and then continues to skate down along his shirt before setting it in the crook of his arm. He stares at it for a long time before lifting his elbow and letting it drop onto the pup below him. Her head pops up with a curious grrowl before she begins to lick the piece to death. The Dragonhealer smiles faintly at her before taking the bottle from Rhasmir. "Finally. I could feel myself growing sober over here. And ugly? The pot's calling the kettle back on that one, sheister." Sigam's sneer is all in fun as he glances down at the little male canine. "You're obviously defective in training 'em then. They're gentle as pie if you train 'em up right, eyy, Sab?" The pup pricks her ears and glances up before hoarding the game piece closer to herself. "I'm not gonna take it," the man grunts, head shaking. "Healers, shmealers. 'Sides, wouldn't be the first time a guy's tried that, would it, Rhas? Ah, shards, we had some good times." Sigam goes silent for a moment, finally taking a couple mouthfuls of drink as the trader rises and exits. "Your own sharding fault if I do!," he calls after the retreating back before laughing and settling deeper into his chair. "Crazy coot. Like I'd cheat! The nerve." He makes something akin to 'can you believe it?' puppy eyes up at Thea.

Things flying through the air has Thea flinching although nothing is headed her way. As Rhasmir lurches to his feet, Thea is shaking her head in protest, "No don't g-" But the chattering Rhasmir is not listening one bit. There's a whoosh of air as his hand waves past her shoulder and the weyrwoman gives him a bit of a blink, turning to watch him weave his way off. "I don't really want-" She stops with a sigh. "Fools gonna fall and crack his head open on the ice." This to Sigam, as her head turns in time to see those puppy eyes he's making. "Oh shards, Y'both have gone daft." Since Rhasmir's seat is vacant, she slides into it. "Fine, I'll move for him." She wrenches a hand out of one pocket, lifts a piece (could be Rhasmir's, who knows?) and jumps it one square ahead. Her hand is shoved back into the sanctuary of her pocket as she tilts a look at Sigam. "So where'd you and Rhasmir meet up?"

Rhasmir is looking a touch worse for the wear as he returns, white shirt smeared with mud on one side. Fortunately for his bet, it has started snowing. "Knew it!" The lad crows. "Knew it'd snow! Ha!" He's chortling merrily as he goes. "And I only fell once, so there." The lad sticks his tongue out maturely at Thea. "And it wasn't that bad. For you, fair goldrider." His eyes sparkle with mischief. Then he turns to Sigam, extending a violently red, gold-lined kilt, complete with handsome black belt. Himself, he hefts a green one with the same gold striping, smirking. "For you, me fair lady." Innocence in a bright grin as he hands the kilt over, then extends the grin to Thea. "In the spirit of keeping my death at bay, we c'n go on to the caverns, dearling." Smiiile for Thea. "You, Priscilla. Suit up. I'll meet you in the Living Cavern, Thea!" Right, yes, because he's certain she'll be there. He bounces off into the bushes anyways.

Sigam smirks, absentmindedly scratching at his beard, shoulders rising and falling. "S'what if he does? Might knock some sense into 'im." The bottle sloshes as he raises it to his lips again. "Yep. Daft 'n' drunk. Best combo 'n the weyr," he nods complacently, leaning forwards to lean his elbows on the table as he considers her move. "Ach, you've got me all confused now. Am I the black or the white?" He laughs, a sound that has a slightly hysterical note to it. "We met back at Ierne," the Dragonhealer murmurs, slipping one hand over his eyes and grabbing a piece at random. He likely knocks over four or five pieces as he shoves it across the board. "Trader family of his stopped oft'n and we got to be real good friends." He nods, removing his hand from his eyes and seeming pleased with the destruction he'd left in his wake. Rhasmir's return is greeted with a slow smile and a snort, eyes flicking over the dirtied shirt. "You'd better lose that, twinkle-toes, before you freeze." Nevermind that it's, you know, snowing. He takes the proferred kilt, eyeing the colors dubiously before letting it open and holding it against his waist. "That'll do," he laughs, following Rhasmir with a noticeably drunken swagger to his gait. "See ya in a quick bit, right?," he asks of the goldrider before disappearing, booze still in hand.

Thea leans back in her seat as Sigam's hand moves across the board. Can't hurt to be safe. Then Rhasmir is back and she has a bottle of wine thrust into her arms. Rhasmir and Sigam are bounding off into the bushes with a snap-crackle-! There are -men- changing into -skirts- in the leaf-bare bushes on a freezing day in the middle of Winter. She rolls her eyes, "Oh shards, I'm off." So saying, she stands, striding off towards the Caverns, affording the men some privacy in their lunacy. She's going to sit by the fire and warm up because while sitting here thought all bundled in boots and coat she is freezing. The skirt-wearers will be likely needing some thawing too and soon.

Xanadu Weyr - Caverns

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.

Thea enters the Caverns carrying a bottle of wine by the neck and sputtering herself about freezing fannies and the need for mindhealers. She's shedding her long leather coat, kicking off her boots as she stops just inside the doorway. The bottle is set on a table, her coat and boots dumped somewhere out of the way before she heads to a seat by the fireplace to warm her frost-reddened nose.

Jessamin trundles in with a basket full of laundry in need of mending. As is usual, her three flits keep close to her, chittering a merry little tune. Her sewing sundries rest on top of the mound of mending, threatening to spill over as she plops down in a chair near the fireplace. Madder, Turquoise, and Stitch cling to the back and arms of the chair, settling in quite nicely. She picks out a pair of child's trousers, examining them for rips and tears, pursing her lips as she decides how best to fix them.

The party arrives very suddenly. Somehow, our dear Trader has acquired a guitar on his way to the caverns, and, maybe even at the same time! has lost a shirt. He is wearing what can only be a kilt, and definitely stumbling a little. The kilt is, well…the only thing he's wearing. Presumably. "I swear it, Siggy! I /swear/!" He's crowing, as a pair of damp canines scamper in ahead of them. The trader is ignoring them thoroughly. "Anyways," He slurs. "I say we bring back the wild Istan. Whatcha say, ol' pal?" There is a bleary grin for his friend as the trader lad makes his way across the caverns, /flopping/ down on the hearth near Thea. "You made it! Grand. Ahoy, candidate! Want a drink? Siggy, where'n the name of baby dragons'd you put th' shardin' firewhiskey?" Grumble grumble goes he, then tosses a mischievous grin at Thea. "Wine good? Shardin' cold 'nough to need it, ain't it?"

"…Shards. Where's the kitchen…?" The statement is murmured under the breath of a blonde woman wearing an apron who enters the caverns. She wears the knot of a Baker from Western, and she looks somewhat confused as she comes in. She sees the people here and gravitates towards them. Though she pauses as someone else comes invery loudlywith canines. The blonde woman blinks a little, as if confused, and then resumes her trek towards the hearth, where it seems people are. "Excuse me…?" she ventures politely. "Where are the kitchens? Someone borrowed cookware from me, and I need it back."

Green and Gold Egg wiggles discreetly in its' box. Wiggle wiggle THUD. What's that noise?

Sigam's arrival is slightly more dignified than Rhasmir's, but that's only through the aid of a very sturdy wall. Cheeks flushed with heat from drink and cold alike, his grin is wide, and his dress is… well, no better than the trader's. The Dragonhealer, however, is sporting a red and gold kilt, clashing with his friend's green, and while the color may have been charming with the addition of a shirt, now it's just… awkward, maybe. "Ah, Rhas, I haven' sang that song in years. I don' even know if I can anymore. Age's hit me right good." Taking a seat on Thea's other side, the 'healer is all smiles. "Righ'! I finally felt the cold, straight down to ma boots." He wriggles the things in question, hand absently patting a red female canine at his side. A thorough waving-to is offered to Jessamin, though he wouldn't know the girl from a stick in the mud, before wide brown eyes are turned up to face Mialee. "Cookware, y'say? Bah, kitchens. They're near here, somewhere." Where, though, he couldn't tell you. He's lucky he found the warmth of the fire, really.

Jessamin returns Sigam's wave, her hand full of child's trousers, making it seem like she's waving an odd, split blue flag. "Hello there!" She offers a smile both to Sigam, and to Mialee. "Hello to you too!" With the rocking of the egg, the tune of her flits change, to a surprisingly deep little hum… the welcoming song. Jess's eyebrows go up, and she rolls her eyes with a soft chuckle. "Why do I always find myself in the middle of these things with chores at hand?"

Thea nods pleasantly to Jessamin as she comes in, opens her mouth to say something when there's a drunk, shirtless, kilt-wearing Rhasmir entering the room. Her eyes widen just a hair, then she's quickly averting them and trying not to snicker. As he comes flopping down beside her, her mouth closes abruptly with a softly-muttered, "Erg." If it is possible, she's scooting back in her chair to ease some space between her and the Trader, looking none too pleased. But then she is backing into Sigam on her other side, "Ack." There's a roll of her green eyes that has a touch of alarm to them. Great. TWO skirt-wearing drunks and a weyrwoman. This'll look responsible if Niva comes striding in. She focuses on the canines. "They aren't supposed to be in here." Muttermutter. Mialee's question is heard and she wordlessly points towards the kitchens. Eggs are simply overlooked in the chaos that is Rhasmir and Sigam.

Mialee looks up to Sigam as he directs her to 'somewhere around here'. And blinks. "Er…thank you but…that's not much help," she ventures politely. She offers a wave to Jessamin in return. As Jessamin speak, Mialee notes the rocking egg and the humming firelizards. "Oh!" she breathes. "Are they getting ready to hatch?" she inquires. Thea points to the kitchens, and Mialee nods. "Thank you," she replies. "I'll be right back." She moves off to the kitchens then, returning with a couple bowlfuls of meat scraps for the newly-arriving firelizards. "These might be useful," she notes, approaching the sand-filled box where the eggs are.

"Kitchen's that way, lovely." Rhas points lazily towards the kitchens. As there is a THUD in the box nearby, the trader gives it a shrewd look. "Would ya mind getting meat too?" The trader gives Mialee a winsome — or would, but by the time he glances back to where she is she's long gone. "Aw, you're younger'n me, aren't you, ya shardin' heap'a'dung!" He swats at the other man, then beams pleasantly at Thea. "What aren't?" Blank look. But then he's giving Jessamin an amused look. "'Cause you're a candidate, sweet. You're always doin' 'em, aren't you?" Beam! "Whoa!" Mialee is back, and with meat, without even having heard him? She must be…a mind reader of some sort! Or just more perceptive than his drunken bum. "Good job!"

Green and Gold Egg thuds once more against the box, rolling and spinning energetically.

Red Hand Egg is wriggling. Really. You might have to look closely, though, to see it slowly, carefully shifting back and forth in its' little corner.

M'ori enters the cavern, being tugged on by a pair of humming blue firelizards. "Easy you boys. Easy. We're here to bring an order to that greenrider, not to frilly away? Oh drat, I'm going to need some meat." He eyes the wiggling eggs. "Always room for one more." He sighs. The blues seem to agree, chirping eagerly.

Jessamin rolls her eyes, putting the trousers down on top of the pile and chuckling. "Good call on the meat there. Those little buggers are going to be hungry as Avaeth's clutch on Hatching Day." She leans forward, watching the eggs with a little smile; her flits hum and rock on the chair in back of her. "Beautiful eggs, really. I've never seen two look even remotely alike."

Wiggle wiggle wiggle CRACK! After a short struggle, the Green and Gold Egg just, well, kind of explodes. Thankfully, the tiny egg shards don't go far, and the firelizard left blinking in the shell doesn't seem inclined to cause any harm. Yet. The All-knowing Oath Brown blinks, then fans his wings and stares challengingly around, hissing softly.

29yfgix.png All-knowing Oath Brown
Deep, rusting russet cloaks the large body of this firelizard, seeping over lean muscle and sturdy frame all in one seemingly plain mass. The stout curve of his belly and neck, and down the proportionate tail, are washed with a shade that's only a hint paler, while his back deepens a shade or two, creating a handsome effect that rather suits this fellow. He carries himself with pride, head held high, stride slow and purposeful so as not to make the waddle-hop gait apparent. Those legs shade down a few shades paler than his belly, gaining a decidedly clay-toned color around his sharp-clawed toes. Still, it is a mere shade of the russet of the rest of his body — unlike the streak of golden tan down the middle of his roman-nosed face, one that extends down sharp ridges. The russet of his body blushes the upside of his long, broad wings, while the undersides are washed in palest cream. Overall, while his color will not make him stand out among others of his species, the way in which he holds himself probably will._

M'ori eyes the brown hatchling, and then looks around for meatscraps to tempt the firelizards with. He finds a nice double handfull of scraps to use and fumbles for a piece of meat. He holds it out after much fumbling and wiggles it for the brown.

"H'lo, yes, yes," Sigam parrots, more to himself than to anyone in particular, seeming to find everything funny all of a sudden. It's a rare occasion, to see the Dragonhealer like this, but he doesn't seem to be shy about it at all. Leaning forwards, on his elbows, not at all noticing Thea's inklings of shyness, the man peers across the way at Rhasmir. "Bah, you. Fine. If you can still strum that old beat box, I can still sing a ditty or two," he concedes noisily. A helpless smile is all he can offer to Mialee at first, but when she returns with meat, the truth finally seems to sink in. "Ah, shardit, flits? Really?" Finally, he squints over at the box of sand, amused by the antics of the eggs, watching just as the brown emerges from his egg. "Well, whaddya know," he slurs, beaming over at Thea. "Look, firelizard babies!" Smart as a dimglow, this one. "And uh, sorry about the dogs." Really, he is. That's why he's smiling mischeviously. Oh yes.

Mialee chuckles as Rhasmir notes her reappearance. "Thank you," she notes of his 'good job' comment. It's not mind-reading. She just knows what a wide variety of creatures like to have in their stomachs. And what newborn firelizards like in their stomachs is…MEAT! As the eggs start rocking more, Mialee sets the bowls down and sits near the box. She looks to Jessamin and nods. "Thank you. I figured they would be hungry, so I figured it'd be a good idea to get some meat," she replies, giving a smile. "Oh indeed they are beautiful," she agrees, looking back to the eggs. She looks to M'ori and smiles again. "I've got some here," she replies, pointing to the bowls she's brought out of the kitchen just a moment ago. And then the brown hatchling hatches. "Oh! He looks a little mean…" she notes. But she picks up some meat from a bowl anyway and holds it out to the brown. No, she's not afraid of him.

Jessamin keeps one of the bowls of meat close by, either to pass to another, or to make use of herself. She catches the youngest brown eyeing it, and taps him lightly on the nose. "Not for you, greedy little Stitch. If you're still hungry later, I'll get you some meat." She can't help a soft laugh, shaking her head as she turns her attention back to the eggs—though this time, her hold on the bowl is more guarded.

M'ori thanks Mialee for the meat and nods, "He looks like he would be trouble. Thanks for the meat. Hmmmm… maybe a nice little green lizard instead. My two blueboys would love that!" He says with a grin. "I'm M'ori by the way, bronze Uluameth's rider. I run a clothing store at Ierne Weyrhold."

Thea is looking uneasy for obvious reasons, but the humming firelizards and bowl of meat brought out by Mialee cues her in and her eyes dart to the hearth. "Ohno." She ducks as Rhasmir's arm reaches over her to swat Sigam, holds her breath as the Trader breathes boozy breath on her with his grin. Sigam is leaning across her to peer at Rhasmir. How -did- she manage this feat again? There's a roll of her eyes, "No more of those things for me." And she eases herself out of the spot between the pair (it's as good excuse as any) and steps away from the fray. A wave of her hand consigns the spot to M'ori. "Have my seat." Who wouldn't jump at the chance to sit between two drunks? Especially skirt-wearing drunks.

All-knowing Oath Brown's stride is measured, slow. He pauses when he sees people, blinking at the assorted group with wariness. My. Some of them are loud. The brown shakes out his wings delicately, and wanders towards them curiously, trilling. What /is/ that smell?

Mialee grins at Jessamin's brown. "Poor dear…is he hungry?" she inquires. "Or is he just gluttonous?" She offers a pleasant giggle at the comment. She offers her not-meaty hand to M'ori to shake. "Name's Mialee. Just call me Mimi. I'm a Baker…just visiting from Western, though." A smile, and a wink to the bronzerider.

Azure Crowned Egg begins rocking now, bouncing about with more enthusiasm than its siblings. Bounce, bounce

M'ori nods to Thea and takes the goldrider's seat. The bronzerider wiggles a piece of meat for the brown, but its only half hearted. "Its a pleasure Mialee. Hey there little fella, wanna come right over hewe a minute." He says that last in the sort of voice one might use with a baby child.

Rhasmir cackles at Sigam, prodding the lad. "Good." He chuckles. "Gimme minute. Gotta remember." Then he's leaning back in thought, blinking at the new comer and smiling blearily. "Thea, where ya goin'? Bah, baby firelizards. None for me. I swear, if you people don't take 'em, I'm gonna…gonna…" But here he fades. Oh my.

Jessamin bursts out laughing at Mialee's question, her azure eyes a-twinkle with mirth. "No, they're all little gluttons, and it's worse at a hatching." Her attention is drawn away by the Azure Crowned Egg now, and she holds her breath for a moment. "Shards, that one's going to roll itself right out of the box!"

Mimi giggles at the tone M'ori uses with the brown, although she doesn't know about its effectiveness. It looks like that brown isn't much for sweetness. Which might be a problem if it chooses Mialee…she's very sweet. And cooks lots of sweets, too! She gives Rhasmir a look and a smile, however. But she doesn't disturb him. Mimi nods to Jessamin's observation of the Azure egg. "If it isn't careful, it might," she agrees. "That one really wants out, doesn't it?" she observes.

All-knowing Oath Brown moves closer to the crowd, making little meepy noises. What on Pern are they making so much noise for? Footsteps careful and sure, he peers up at the kilted ones, then moves on, fanning handsome wings faintly. Ah! Food! His eyes brighten with interest as he peers around, now, noting who has food, tail curling around a foot. Hmmm.

After a long and busy time wiggling studiously, the Red Hand Egg finally cracks. Neatly. And properly, right in two; one half goes one way, the other falls calmly the other, neither cracking on their downward journey. Stepping from the neat ruins is the Myterious Prophet Green, who first blinks in the light of the caverns, then hisses quietly. It burrns. But after one of her eyelids closes she calms a little, peering up at the crowd.

3578166841_aa1cc7a5fd_m.jpg Mysterious Prophet Green
Ethereal and maybe slightly sinister, this large green hatchling is certainly unique. Her hide is deep and rich, seeming almost black at first, until any light hits her smooth hide, at which point it flares to a vibrant jungle-green. She does not vary much in color over the entirety of her well-proportioned body, the vibrant green taking over much of it. Belly pales just a touch and 'sails deepen and lose much of their shine, but other than the tips of her toes shining a shade or two paler than her belly, that's it. The deep color accents a lean build, lean but not gaunt, more athletic. She is built for strength and speed, wings long and tapered, with neck and tail neither too long nor too short, smooth of hide and maybe slightly sharp neck-and-back-ridged. Her legs are well-muscled and long-toed, with sharp but short talons at the end of each toe. This green carries herself with a certain grace, not the noble air of some, but a predatory stalk, deliberate, never putting a foot out of line or a wing too far from her body to balance. She always knows her next step, always knows where she is going and how she will get there; one might almost think that she knows and sees all._

M'ori whistles at the green, shifting his attention from the brown to her. "I want that one." He grins hugely, wiggling the meat for the green. His two blues, Oculus and Hiri whistle too, trying to coax the green lizard to them. The blues bob their heads up and down, crooning and singing to the green while M'ori wiggles the meat for the green's attention.

Jessamin 's eyes go wide at the sight of the little green. Despite herself, she plucks a piece of meat from the bowl, half-sliding out of the chair to hold it out to the little green beauty. "Hello there, you… aren't you just the little darling? That's right, food's over this way…."

Azure Crowned Egg dances and spins, wriggles and bounces, then goes completely still.

"Oh, how pretty!" Mialee motes quietly of the newly-hatched green. Though yes, she does have food. M'ori and Jessamin have food, too. And the brown's still looking about. Mimi is keeping her eyes on them both, to see the situation. She's calm, she's mostly quiet (unless spoken to) and she's observing the hatching. There's still that third egg that dances and spins around; what's inside it?

Sigam can't help it - he busts out into raucous drunken laughter. "The blighter's gone out like a light! Ah, Rhasmir, my old friend, you can'nae hold your drink for anything." The Dragonhealer watches Thea's departure with mournful eyes for a long moment, lips jutting in half a pout. "What, we aren't good enough for ya?," he teases, eyes dancing, but he's quick to turn and make chatter with M'ori. "Ierne, huh?" The man adjusts his kilt by the belt before glancing over at the eggs - er, egg - again. "They're comin' worse than… than…" Well, he doesn't know what, so he shifts attention again. Meat, hmm? That's how you lure them in? So, well, why not. Stumbing out of his seat, Sigam plops forth and steals a few slivers for the hell of it, giving everyone behind him a nice view of his back - and the tattoo on it. Sparkle! "Just wave it at 'em, eyy? Can't be that easy," he balks, swaying drunkenly before shivering meat around in general, drippings flecking his arms. Sharding hell.

Apparently M'ori would. Thea is gratefully stepping into fresher air and clearer space. She watches from behind one of the chairs nearer to where Mialee and Jessamin are seated. Rhasmir's question just has her shaking her head, "Have three already." Sigam's question has her shaking her head, "It's not that…." But she doesn't explain now. The dance is back in the green of her eyes now that her bubble is no longer invaded by whiskey-breathed skirt-wearing men. And skirts… when a body sits… Lets just say, Thea keeps her eyes on the hatchlings.

It is wise that Thea averts her eyes. Really. "Siggy!" Rhas suddenly cries, catching sight of the tattoo with a booming laugh. "HA! I didn't know that actually kept!" He slaps the man's shoulder, tittering like a little girl. "Aaah, I'm glad I didn't go in on the deal." Smirky smirky smirk, then he's dragging up the guitar with a mournful look for Thea. "Are you entirely sure?" He attempts puppy eyes and fails miserably, then just heaves an amusing sigh and starts to strum.

M'ori snorts. "They're young and impressionable, no pun intended. All they want is meat and attention. If you give them that then they're yours for life." he tells Sigam. M'ori wiggles meat for the green, watching as the Azure egg rocks and rolls.

Mysterious Prophet Green draws herself up imperiously, and peers at those gathered. Her eyes glitter almost dangerously as suddenly they're offering wobbly bits of stuff all around. Hsss. What is this? She glances over at her brother and snorts. My.

Azure Crowned Egg is still frantically wobbling. It bounces, then spins, darting about the box like a Wherry before a Dragon. Finally, it hits the wall and *crunches*, leaving a dazed hatchling in the ruins. The Cloak of Mist Blue blinks and creels faintly, startled, eyes widening. Oh my. Well.

3578972272_33a34c2e7d_m.jpg Cloak of Mist Blue
A handsome balance of dark shades and light, this gawky blue is rather adorable. The bulk of his body is an austere shade of midnight, which deepens along his belly and pales a little along a rounded back and neck. However, a misty veil of silvered moonlight drifts along each long leg, brushing just faintly along his body in certain lights, before returning full-force across short, broad wingsails. The same shade of pale moonlight whispers across prominent 'ridges, which are deep in base-color, but almost entirely overtaken by the mist in certain lights. His deep-shaded body is gawky and awkward, compact but long-legged, long-tailed and short-necked. He will likely lengthen out and even with age, but may never be entirely normally-proportioned. Still, he handles his form well, almost seeming to slink, unconsciously sticking to areas in which he can easily become merely a part of the scenery; one could almost think he doesn't want to be seen. Still, his contrasting hide is easy on the eyes._

Jessamin lays down a small piece of meat near the little green hatchling, trilling and cooing softly. Her flits thrum with depth belying their size, welcoming their new compatriots into the world. She's kneeling on the ground now, laying a path of choice bits of meat in her general direction. "Yes, that's it… breakfast." Soft whistling trills accent her words, hopefully encouraging the tiny green along her way.

Mimi giggles at the antics of the drunk people she doesn't know. And at Thea's aversion to being around them. It's almost cute, actually. But music seems forthcoming too. She nods to M'ori's statement. "That will be good to know in the future, too," she notes. In case she neither of these are interested in her. Just as she looks back to the eggs, the blue hatches. "Oh…he's very pretty, too," she notes of the newly-hatched blue. Though she wiggles the meat in the general direction of both hatchlings, offering a soft beckoning whistle, something more like a sound a firelizard would make than a vocal call. Though she does kind of hope the blue answers, since he seems a little less ill-tempered. She'd like to keep her fingers, after all….

All-knowing Oath Brown gives a sharp creel, peering around slowly. He seems to be displaying an almost superhuman amount of patience, his eyes flash a vibrant shade of hungry grey-yellow.

Sigam raises his eyebrows at Thea, eyes sparkling with curiosity through the drunken stupor, but it is that exact stupor that allows her to get away with the enigmatic answer. The man is, indeed, in an indecent position, used to having pants to go along with the masculine splaying of legs, but, well… Thankfully a well-timed breeze clues him in, and with a creeping blush that tinges his neck and shoulders, he adjusts his seating with a cough. "'Course i' kept!," Sigam drawls back at Rhasmir, grateful for the distraction. "Kember wasn' a brilliant artist for nothin'!" He beams, wriggling his shoulderblades for effect, making the dragon shift and wriggle. "Thanks for the 'vice," Sigam notes to M'ori, beaming, hand still jiggling the meat as he goes. Ah, what's that? A blue? Sigam squints, suddenly seeing /two/ blues and, enchanted, he leans in closer, mean a'flapping in the breeze. "Old songs and ol' stories, they keep us aliiiive! Without our past, we'd never survive~" Despite it all, he's going to sing along with Rhas's drunken strumming, even if he /is/ well off-key.

Cloak of Mist Blue eyes himself curiously. Well. This will never do. The hatchling scampers behind something brilliantly red and gold and proceeds to preen himself furiously; one does not blend into things with egg shards all overhimself!

Mysterious Prophet Green now has /two/ obnoxious brothers, and a whole swarm of obnoxious people nattling on about something. The hatchling spreads long wings elegantly and surveys the ones offering her meat with cool imperiousness. What do they expect her to do, come and get it? Oh, no, they wouldn't want that. Beyond an expression that borders on benign, the green's eyes sparkle dangerously. Oh, do come closer, pretties.

Jessamin holds her hand as close to the little green as she dares, a choice piece of meat resting squarely in the middle of her palm. She tilts her head curiously, chuckling softly at the small one's mannerisms. "Well, who thinks they have gold hide instead of green, hmmm? You really are a beauty, little one, you really are…" Her trilling and chirruping mellows into soft humming, a lilting little melody wafting through the air from her general direction.

M'ori sees the green open her wings. "oh bravo. but I guess I'll come to you if you're not going to move." He eyes the blue hatchling. "Shy lil thing." He frowns, getting out of his chair and crawling over to the green. "Here greenie greenie. I got you some meatie meatie!" He says as he wiggles a particularly long and dripping piece of meat.

Mimi giggles when the blue goes to hide. It's very cute. Yes indeed, the blue's antics are beginning to endear her to it. And so she aims for the blue, scooting just a little closer, taking a few more scraps of meat from the bowl, to have fresher meat to offer it. Again, she gives a little whistle to the blue, then offers a soft coo, something like a firelizard's comforting croon. It's not too bad an imitation, but it's not as though one could mistake her noise for a noise made by a firelizard.

Thea laughs back to Rhasmir, "Absolutely!" He's pulling that guitar then and she's nodding her approval. Music… can he play it drunk? And then there's Sigam offering to sing. She glances the dragonhealer's way, then— oops! Her gaze hastily averted again. "Whose shardin' idea were those kilts?" She busies herself watching the firelizards. She rolls her eyes at something, but bites her lips and watches the attempts to woo the interestingly colored green.

All-knowing Oath Brown stamps impatiently on the table. Then /keens/. He ambles over to his slightly greener sibling and /glares/ up at the people. Why are they trying to feed Miss Green Queen there, when he's obviously bigger, badder, and much more friendly? Honest! Except maybe that's his sweet-face. Erm.

Mysterious Prophet Green gives a cool glare to her brother, and snorts. But — there are more important things to focus on. The green swipes hatching-wet claws at Jessamin as she gets close, eyes flashing a vivid red at M'ori. The green back up a step or two, 'meep'ing in a startled fashion, evidently confused. What is this all about? She eyes the meat hungrily, but then once more the encroaching humans with disdain and wariness.

"You lot look sharding ridiculous." Sigam's voice drops out of the song long enough for him to stop flapping his offerings and look around at the people crawling about the cavern floor, furious glee written all /over/ his face. "And this comin' from the one in tha kilt!," the Dragonhealer jeers, laughter rolling out of him in great, uninhibited waves. He's no less surprised when the little blue scampers to hide behind his kilt, the man momentarily distracted by something shiny slithering about, but when Mialee starts scooting forwards, dangerously close to the danger zone of his betraying kilt, he redirects his attention yet again. "Hold up, lady, lemme at least get outta yer way." He scoots, then, keeping his legs quite together, thankyouverymuchThea. "There now," he pouts up at the brown, "Why so mad. All's for the takin'. Grab summat food and split!" And then back to the song he goes. "I am my island, my island is me, so you know whatcha can do if you don' like what you seeeeee~ Kiss me, I'm Istan! I am the Wild Rover! My eyes, they are smilin'! And I'm seldom soooober!" Ain't that the truth…

"Course it did. Right." Rhas answers blearily. Then he cheerfully takes up a tune (or, okay, he attempts to), strumming away. "Ooooo~, aliiiive!" He croons, thoroughly ignoring a crawling M'ori and a creeping Mialee in favor of a wink for Thea. "Betcha never seen me actually play this old thing, have ya?" He offers in what he obviously thinks is a Stunningly Debonair Voice, but is slurred and, well. Drunken. "Oooooo, soberrr!" Strum!

Jessamin 's eyes widen as the little green swipes at her, but she does not flinch away. Rather, she rolls the piece of meat from the center of her palm towards her fingertips. "Easy there, nobody's going to hurt you. Here, I've got something for you." She holds her hand a little bit closer, with the piece of meat between two fingers. "Shhhh, it's alright… there's more where this came from." Her eyes twinkle with amusement, and she chuckles softly at the green "queen's" antics.

Cloak of Mist Blue looks /very/ glad that he has a hiding spot. There's so much noise out there! And even more starts. Squeak!

"I think the kilts are quite nice," Mimi says, to Thea's comment of the kilts. She gives any exposed skin a pointed glance. "If they want to show themselves off…well, it's them, isn't it?" She giggles softly. "Might teach them not to get so completely drunk." Here she gives a wink to Thea. The brown hatchling's antics make her giggle quietly. He's obviously not happy about all the attention his green sibling is getting. She outright blinks at the display of aggression from the green. And also hopes that the green doesn't come to the meat she's got in her hand. No way Mimi could care for one that mean. None of them really seem all that loving, really. But from what she's seen, the blue seems like her best bet. At least he hasn't shown any signs of outward agression. Yet. Mimi chuckles at Sigam as he moves. Really, she didn't realize she was in his way. "I'm sorry," she offers quietly to him. Then she turns her attention back to the blue. Hopefully now that Sigam has moved, the blue will be more apt to take the meat from her. She remains quiet and calm, and since her voice is naturally soft when she does speak, it shouldn't prove too traumatic for the blue.

Mysterious Prophet Green's eyes shimmer with hungry shades as she leans closer to the offering, slow, wary. Snap! Down the gullet it goes. She eyes Jessamin warily, but doesn't move any further back.

Some nights the Cavern is it's very own Harper stage of comedy. And this apparently is one of those nights. Two singers crooning words Thea can't quuuuuite make out, scrambling people and hatching firelizards with a skirt or two thrown in. "They'll never believe me aback home." This is but a muttered comment. She shakes her head at Rhasmir, "Play it for me sometime when you're sober." She winks right back - he'll never remember that come morning. Mialee's comment just causes her to shrug and smile with a bit of a lop-sided grin and her eyes remain on the 'lizards rather than exposed anything. "Kilts. Eh. Depends who's wearing them." The look on her face tells it - her special someone wouldn't be caught dead in one.

Jessamin smiles, cooing softly to the little green and holding out a second offering of meat. "There you go… easy, that was my finger, you pretty little greedy maw!" She chuckles, leaning just a little bit closer. "That's right, you don't need to be afraid." Her words shift to a gentle, low trilling sort of hum, and she sways lightly back and forth in time with the song of flits already present.

As if sensing Mimi's glance, Sigam's dark eyes slide her way, eyebrows bouncing up and down in a furious waggle. "Y'can't say ya don't like it either," he grins, barely keeping himself from skating his hands down his sides suggestively. That'd be just all kinds of wrong, right? Right. Even drunk, he has more civilization than that. Speaking of which, he obviously wasn't inebriated enough - having a conscience was a bad sign! So, temporarily abandoning all this attention-hogging business, he rises, depriving the blue of his hiding spot as he steps around the others, trying not to flash anyone in particular as he skirts his way towards the abandoned beer bottle, voice lifted in song. "I like my whiskey!," and to demonstrates, he downs a mouthful, "And I love to dance, so if you're feelin' as lucky as me, take a chance. And kiss me I'm Istan~," he purrs, rising onto his toes, "My heart beats a jig." And, well, there he goes, feet suddenly stamping and moving in quick, surprisingly steady steps, kilt a'dancing here and there about his legs as he skips past Thea. "Wha'? As if Rhas 'n' I aren' specimens, eyy?" There is a twinkle of understanding there in his eyes, though, and rather than pestering her, he moves back into the fray, crashing to the ground and likely scraping his knees a good bit. "Now, then, here," he says, dropping the meat he still has onto the table, hand scooting it closest to the blue. "I don' care what ya do wi' it. Jest take it and be merry, arright, little frosty lad?" Swagger, tilt. Oh dear. Someone's reaching that point…

Mimi looks to Thea and giggles. "Oh…quite right," she agrees quietly, giving a wink. She does offer a smirk to Sigam. "I didn't say I didn't, now did I?" she counters pertly. She offers a smile and a wink to him as well. She looks to Jessamin as the green takes the meat from her and smiles. It doesn't seem to have latched onto her proper yet, so she holds off on the congratulations and instead turns her attention back to the blue. Has he finished preening yet? Is he ready to eat? She has food for him right here.

Mysterious Prophet Green snaps at Jessamin faintly. She's /not/ afraid. An imperious look is served to the girl, long and searching. Finally, she seems to exhaust her reserve of irritation, and lifts off from the table with a sharp creel, landing on the candidate's shoulder. Feed her.

All-knowing Oath Brown glares at the green as she departs, hissing faintly.

Jessamin chuckles to herself, meeping as she nearly loses a finger to the ravenously hungry little hatchling. "Shards, you held off long enough, small wonder you've worked up such an appetite!" Once reserved, the little green now simply feeds. And feeds. And feeds some more, with Jessamin doing her best to pace her newest charge. "Easy there, little beauty. You're going to get sick if you keep feeding so fast!"

"There now," Mimi replies as she notes that the green seems to finally submit. At least partially. "Looks as though you've another mouth to feed," she observes quietly. Though she shakes her head as the brown hisses at his sibling. Mean little firelizard. For now she keeps her eyes on the blue, trying to coax him closer with the same little cooing warble in the back of her throat. And with a nice juicy piece of meat in her hand.

Cloak of Mist Blue glares up as his hiding spot leaves. Now, why did he have to go and do that? Now people can see him! And my, how his hide does *not* blend in with the fire nearby. Exposed, he draws himself up, peering at the two with amusement, now. Well, fine. If they want to play it that way. The little blue's head sways on its' thin stalk, eyes blinking calmly. Hello!

Thea can't help but notice Sigam's dance past her. It's just that attention-getting. Her lips do a soundless 'wow' and she gives a little shake of her head, "Someone pinch me I think I'm having a nightmare." Wait, wait. Wrong thing to say at this moment with the unrestraint flowing with at least two of the folks in here. But they are busy… sigam's crash to the floor causes a wince, "Didn't squash one of them did you?" Jessamin's success is cheered, although in all the noise, likely unheard.

All-knowing Oath Brown is a hatchling — and a hungry hatchling at that. Stoic loyalty has faded to fretful hissing, the food bowl eyed, then the humans still around it — and finally, the door. Hmm.

Mimi giggles at Sigam's display, softly, and at Thea's comment. Though she stays mostly out of it, and mostly quiet. She just offers the meat to the little blue. Yes, there's more. C'mere, little one. There are hiding places, too! The brown and its search for food is noted, too…poor thing. Mimi frowns a little. She does hope to catch the blue's attention but if the brown can't find anyone to feed it…what will it do? She wars with herself for a long moment…..

"Sigam, Enkavir'll remove your ears with a pen!" Rhas calls cheerily between his backup singing and strumming. "Loosen up a little, Thea!" Laughs he, standing now, and strolling about with his guitar. Oh, there's no sense in even
Jessamin smiles at the imperious nature of her little green, stroking her belly as piece after piece of meat enters that wide-open little maw. "Hmmmm… you remind me of something from ancient Earth lore. Sekhmet… yes, that's it. Sekhmet."

Sigam's eyes positively light up as the pretty green finally selects a suitor, and Jessamin is offered a completely sloshed grin. "Nice!" A man of man(y) words! But really, he's too distracted leaning over, practically backwards, to snicker at Thea. He's not /that/ busy. "Nightmare? Naw, darlin', a fantastic dream more like!" He'll be disagreeing with himself come morning, but for now, shhh. ;) He turns his attention to the floor, peering around. "Ah, nope, nothin's squisht. Alllll good. And he can try, Rhas, but I'm a quick lil fish," he drawls with a wink before glancing at the brown. "Ah, now, life's not 'at bad. A'ways look on the briiiight side of life." Wrong song, but he doesn't seem to notice/care as he leans in, making a kissy face at the poor blue that is now the focus of his attention. "Yeees, come to the meaty-weaty. Shards, a babe you might be, but'cha don' deserve that. You know watcha want, don't'cha." Sigam states this with a firm nod, totally believing his own logic and refusing to make any untowards and potentially embarassing advances towards the poor little beast.

Mimi smiles to Jessamin's noting of the green's behavior. And suppresses the urge to giggle at Rhasmir's antics. She doesn't seem too bothered by them, herself. Perhaps she's accustomed to them. Though she is trying to make herself seem as small as possible, to not be noticed in all the drunken revelries of the two kilted men. A memory surfaces, and she frowns sharply, to suppress it. No bad thoughts; you'll scare the firelizards away! Mimi actually scoots a little, to give Sigam more room, since they're both looking at the same firelizard currently. Though Mimi is also keeping an eye on the brown.

Exept for making a kissy face at it. Thea snickers at Sigam as he attempts to lure the blue. Then she gives Rhasmir a mock-wounded look. "I loosen up. When the time and place are right…" Likely few have seen her in such a state… There's a shrug, "Can't get myself in trouble." There's no mention as to -who- she'd be in trouble with, however. She watches Mialee and Jessamin with their new firelizards as she edges away from the fireplace and collects her coat and boots, but lingers to see if Sigam gets the firelizard.

All-knowing Oath Brown catches that pause, that hesitation — ha! Where he was still hatching-bleary a moment ago, now the brown leaps at Mialee with fervent cries of hunger. He's careful not to hurt the woman, but it's obvious that he's hungry — he grabs at the meat and quickly downs it, before she can pull it back. But then his good sense seems to overcome him and he stumbles back, staring up at her with wide eyes; he didn't mean to…startle her? Be rude?

Cloak of Mist Blue notices his attention. And seems amused by it, watching the pair of them closely. Why, oh why, is he such an object of attention? Little him? Devious amusement flashes in the blue's eyes as he swaggers forth slowly, long legs making it difficult. But he makes it, somehow, and latches quickly onto — Sigam? Oh my. This will be awkward in the morning.

Mimi looks to Sigam and smiles. "Oh, looks as though you have a friend now—eek!" She squeaks lightly as the brown leaps upon the meat in her hand, and draws her hand back as his ferocity. "Goodness. Hungry, aren't you?" She looks at the brown and offers more meat. In a flat palm; she doesn't want to lose fingers. Though she smiles and pets him lightly if he will allow it as he eats.

All-knowing Oath Brown seems to take this as something he can count on. He opens his mouth again, murmuring a hopeful creel. Please?

Oh, he needs to be fed, that's right. Mialee offers the meat more properly this time, careful to keep her fingers out of the way. But she's making certain not to seem as though she's frightened; she doesn't want to communicate that to the brown. Might cause her to get bitten. "Here you are, little one…" she encourages softly, offering the meat to him a little at a time.

Rhasmir ambles over to Thea, and attempts to give the poor goldrider a one-armed hug — whether he manages it or not is another question. "'course ya do." He chuckles. "Well, we'll just have to let you make a fool of yourself elsewhere, now won't we?" Mischief, o' mischief! Sig gets a /snort/. "Right. Go to sleep, before you get yerself in trouble, pansy girl." The strumming is totally disjointed now, as he settles himself back onto the hearth — and promptly passes out.

There's no two ways about it - Sigam is floored. Er. Literally and figuratively, though he manages to keep the little blue safely in his arms and his legs crossed with dignity. "Well! Tha's certain'y a shocker," he drawls, more than a little accent dripping from him, though lord knows where it's coming from. The drunken recesses of his mind, probably. "There, now, you are a pretty thing," the Dragonhealer slurs, fingers going to immediately scritch under the blue's chin. While pleased by this, the Cloak of Mist Blue is far from sated, and is quick to demand a meal. "Arrigh', arrigh', hold up a sec." Sigam tries to wobble up on his elbows, but a sudden wave of vertigo keeps him quite down. "Ach, sharditall. Eyy, Rhas, wanna toss me a bite there?" His wandering eyes catch on Thea, who seems intent on retreat, and his mouth splits wide into an eager grin. "Eyy, lookie!" The poor blue is suddenly held aloft like Simba, just as Rhasmir passes out. "Ah, useless lump. I'll get the meat meself." And he does, with much effort. "I'm gonna hafta name you someday, he murmurs to the mist-laced blue as the little thing gorges himself. "But tha' ain't tonigh'."

Mimi giggles quietly to Sigam's antics. And when Rhasmir passes out. That's going to be a headache in the morning. To Thea, she whispers in an aside, "Be sure to make a lot of noise when you wake these two up in the morning." Though the pause in feeding is enough to get the brown creeling pitifully. "Oh dear. Wait a moment," she replies, and then continues to feed the brown. She picks him up and offers a bowl to him, and he all but buries himself in it. Once again Mimi giggles. "You'll need a bath after this…."

Thea ducks away from the shirtless Trader, avoiding that arm-hug. "Rhasmir!" It's a squeal of protest coupled with a grin. "I prefer you to keep your ears, my friend." She's backing away when there's that word 'fool'. She gives a short bark of laughter, "Already did that. Belly-flop on the beach, remember?" Then he is… senseless? Her eyes drift to where Sigam sits with the blue and she grins. "Congratulations." His efforts to get his blue something to eat are missed as she struggles into her boots, hopping on one foot, then the other for a second. She stands in time to hear Mialee. "Wake them? I don't wake these folks in the morning." Mothering is not her thing. She grins, "I'll leave that to their Masters when they don't show for duties." She slides into her coat, "Night." And she is out into the chill air to brave the weather. A benign foe compared to kilted men in drunken abandon.

It's only after the brown has finished eating that Mimi remembers her purpose. "OH! Goodness, I completely forgot!" She stands quickly. She looks from Sigam to Rhasmir and back, and shakes her head. Are they asleep? Hard to tell. "Sleep well, the two of you," she offers. She does NOT want to be left alone with drunken people! Too many bad memories about that! And so she moves towards the kitchen, slumbering brown cradled in the crook of her arm. She has cookware to retrieve!

"Thanks, Thea." Sigam's smile is all gratitude, eyes suddenly soft as he lilts towards exhaustion and utter inebriation. His head swings loftily towards Mialee, a smile twisting his lips when he spies her brown. "Ah, good, he di' fin' a home. Y'r gonna make a good mum for 'im," he predicts, fighting off a huge yawn. "An' nah, I'll b'fine." His nose scrunches in a pish-poshing grin, hand waving in the air dismissively. "Congratsies on 'at one, have a g'night." Hiccup, floppy wave, and then he's inching towards Rhas to shake a shoulder as the blue in his arms gobbles in near-silence. "'Mon you lump! Time for bed."

"Wherries and felines!" Mumbles a passed-out Rhasmir. Eventually, though, he rouses himself, staring up at Sigam. "Shells'n bloody shards man, can't y'see m'sleepin'?" Yes, against a rock wall sitting up. Because you're brilliant. "Fine, fine, m'coming. Gah." And up he goes, stumbling off out of the caverns with hearty grumbling.

Sigam can only chuckle at his friend, head shaking, which only serves to make him dizzier, really. The Dragonhealer rises tenderly, leaning forwards to grasp at the table with his free hand, waiting for steadiness to come. It does, with the speed of molasses, but finally he is capable of gathering what meat scraps are left. Taking a kercheif from a pocket in his pants, he wraps the meat in it, fighting for consciousness even as the Cloaked blue skitters up onto his shoulder, finally sated, if not a little worried for his human. He croons to express this, causing Sigam to laugh. "N'worries, lil friend." Deed done, he follows Rhasmir towards the exit, nudging the now-sleeping pile'o'puppies at the door before exiting. "Time f'r bed, iffen we make it," he drones, but considering the sharp sense of vertigo going on in his head, well… With his luck, he'll likely wake up a Sigam-cicle. "S'up to change now, m'boyo." And with a mutter, he heads out.

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