Snatching a Sample!

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.

Nothing says comfort *quite* like a hot, morning breakfast on a cold winter's morning. Which is exactly what a small, blond baker apprentice is indulging in: seated at a table closest to both kitchen and warmth, Harmony has a steaming bowl of some type of breakfast porridge sprinkled with some type of sweetener mix - looks to be possibly cinnamon and sugar based on smell alone. Her shiny blond hair has been pulled back into a messy bun, but her clothing gives her away even before her knot does. Over a fashionable outfit of blue sweater and dark pants, is worn a crisp - and only slightly stained - apron, which is tied behind her in a jaunty, fun little bow. "Ahhh," the girl sighs, happily taking that first sweet, hot bite of breakfast.

Datsun comes strolling in from the outside cold, his leather coat keeping him well warm. The usual thuds that precede him due to his heavy boots are muffled thanks to the leftover snow still clinging to his boots. As they begin to fall off in clumps in the warmer climate, his boots start to become a little bit louder. Just as he passes by a table, that whiff of cinnamon and sugar draws the teenage Journeyman's nose closer, causing him to change his course to come up behind Harmony. The Crafter leans over the Baker, using his height to peer directly over the girl's head down into the porridge. "Shells, that smells good."

Self-absorbed in her own delightful breakfast, Harmony takes a moment to realize that, indeed, someone has come up behind her and made a comment. Close as he is, he'll be able to see the confection of pink material that makes up her jacket, hat, and outside boots piled on the chair to her left. "What?" Green eyes blink as head cranes back up to look at the taller teenager. "Oh, this? It is," pride gleams in her expression and colors her light tones. "I've been making it every morning for turns now." Folding her arms on the table in between the table's edge and the bowl, her gaze falls down, "It's more of a blend of oats and porridge, made with heavy cream, sugar, secret spices with a dash of cinnamon." If that's not enough to tantalize the tongue, nothing is! Although, she's not offered to necessarily *share* either!

Datsun remains where he is, towering above Harmony, listening to the list of integridents, "That's quite a bit…" He doesn't require an invitation, though, as the Crafter unclasps one of the several knives on his belt and pulls one out. Noting the pink confection, Datsun says, "It would seem you love the color pink." Hoping that will serve as a distraction for her, the knife comes up and over Harmony's head on the unseen side, reaching towards the specially made breakfast bowl…

Having enough of a self-absorbed ego to sink a ship, Harmony is not at all daunted by the towering journeyman, for her own attention is entirely wrapped up in that lovely feeling of accomplishment of knowing that she's done something awesome. Distraction, indeed, the baker apprentice glances at her winter gear, which will give him ample opportunity to make a quick pass at her breakfast. Though whether or not she'll be so nice afterwards "I do. It's a lovely color and goes well with my coloring." Blond hair, green eyes, creamy skin: does pink *well*.

The blade's tip sinks into the porridge, just enough for a taste, before the knife is quickly brought back up to Datsun's lips. Tasting it, the Crafter nods his approval, "Very nice." Though if Harmony hasn't seen what he's done, she might take his compliment to mean for the pink complementing her appearance. Licking the knife clean, the journeyman tucks it back into the sheath and clasps it secure. The empty chair next to Harmony that hasn't been taken up by her pinkness is taken by the Crafter, settling one elbow on the table as he sits facing Harmony. "What would go well with /my/ coloring, then?"

Not the brightest - or rather, not the most observant - crayon in the box, Harmony misses that quick taste. By the time her head's once more turning back upwards to eye him, his comment is heard as complimenting her pink attire. "Mmmhmmm," the baker apprentice murmurs, fingers taking up her spoon once more and dipping back into the mushy contents of the steamy breakfast. She waits for him to seat himself, concentrating not on the boy beside her but on the food in front of her. Tiny, tiny taste is taken from the tip of the spoon. "I don't know. I'm not a weaver," she says, lifting one little blond eyebrow at him. "I just know that pink looks good on *me*, or that's what the weaver my mother hired to dress me in head-to-toe said." One more thoughtful eyeball later, and she adds, "Maybe, uh, dark colors?" It's a shot in the dark. Harmony knows nothing of colors and fashion! (Other than what affects herself, anyway).

Chuckling at her answer, "It would seem you're a better baker than you are a fashion consultant." Datsun's eyes wander from Harmony's face back over to the bowl. "Is that bowl for you and only you alone?" One red eyebrow raises at her comment, "Your mother /hired/ a Weaver? Hmm… So you're well off, are you? In that case, may I offer my hand in betrothal?" A small smile appears on his face, waiting for her reaction.

"Yes, it is." Harmony curls her free arm around the bowl and tugs it closer, giving him a sudden narrow-eyed suspicious look. As if he's not had himself an illicit taste yet. "She did. She's determined that I have the *very* best." As to whether or not her mother is well off, well. No direct answer is given. Minus, "No thank you. I'm more focused on my craft than pesky things like marriage and boys and all that." A touch of apology colors her faux-sympathetic expression that she affects with little success to actual emotion, "No offense or anything." That spoon gets dipped into her bowl for another tiny, tiny bite. Maybe she's watching her figure! "So what about you?" she asks, finally turning her attention from herself - someone has lead a spoiled life! - to the boy sitting next to her. "My name is Harmony, by the way. Bakercraft /senior/ apprentice." See the senior? It's there. There's enough pride to sink a ship. And some bragging, too!

That small smile turns into a smirk at Harmony's self-assurance as well as her possessiveness of her bowl and his knowledge of what it tastes like. Datsun's more amused by this girl than he is offended, "I can see that." is commented wryly about her mother, "Though I do have to say that you're a terrible Baker if you don't like to share your food. After all, how is one supposed to gain fame and the /very best/…" A pause to let that comment sink in, "without making yourself known? Ah, an Apprentice. Then that case, our marriage would have never worked out." The hand on the table moves to point his thumb at himself, "Oh, little ol' me? I'm Datsun. Woodcrafter /Journeyman/." A wink is offered to her. There's a touch of pride in being one of the youngest Journeymen at 16 Turns old.

"My cooking gets much," beat, "/much/ recognition in class, but I do not have to share my breakfast," Harmony scoffs with slightly narrowed eyes. Not that she's angry, just that she's, well, spoiled. And isn't used to being questioned! Especially about baker things from people who aren't her teachers! "I am a very *good* baker." Just to get that out there. "Of course it wouldn't," the girl is not entirely gracious about him now turning down *her*, "because I already declined!" When he announces his rank and name, Harmony does have grace enough to give a smile that lights up her whole face - she's good at milking her expressions for other's emotions, normally! - and says, "Well met, Datsun." Pause. "That's quite an accomplishment. You look so - so young!"

Datsun blinks, his eyes wandering around the Caverns, "Oh, are we in class?" There's a slightly sarcastic undertone in his question as he settles sideways into his chair, resting his other arm over the back of it. "That's what you say. I've met people who claim to be good at what they do, only to see mediocre work done. You'll have to pardon me if I won't take you at your word. To confirm that, I would have to taste something of your making." There's a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring her declining him, "Thank you, Harmony. I am, though I'm in no rush to grow up anytime soon. I'm rather enjoying my immaturity for the moment."

"No," Harmony's light voice rises in pitch, "But that is where I am learning, and thus where I am sampled." That arm tightens around her bowl, as possessive as a hungry kitten. "It is what I say and until I have something to share, you'll just have to take my word for it!" Nope, this little chickadee ain't giving up her breakfast anytime soon! "Or wait until I've something that I want the world tasting." She, however, turns back to her porridge and takes another tiny, tiny little bite. Going this rate, it'll take her *all* morning to savor her breakfast. "Mmmm. I'd much rather grow up, thank-you-very-much," the girl quips, giving him a side-long look. Setting the spoon down, she reaches under the confection of winter'd pink sitting on the chair beside her and pulls out a clump of notes. Pointedly, she plops them right next to her breakfast and says, "Now if you'll excuse me it was nice to meet you, but" And with those trailing ellipses, she focuses on her class notes. Not forgetting her food, now. He won't be getting a second chance to sample!

Datsun leans backward as Harmony raises his voice at him, both eyebrows going up, "Well, now. You're sampled." A brief chuckle as his mind dips into the gutter momentarily before the Journeyman stands up as he's so neatly dismissed by the Senior Apprentice. "No, you can keep your word. Have fun being all grown up. By the way, that porridge is pretty good from the little taste I had." The Journeyman stands up, tucking the chair back under the table before turning to her again. A moment is taken to consider her critically before a hand comes up and pats her on the head as he walks by her in departure, "See you later, /Senior/ Apprentice." and knowing full well that she cannot do much to him seeing that he outranks her.

The only sound that follows his departure is a soft-yet-still outraged gasp. Harmony doesn't say anything, but *does* eye her breakfast as if it has, somehow, betrayed her. But the Journeyman is gone and she's once again alone with her thoughts. Or notes. Or whatever. And the offending porridge. Whether or not it's eaten Only the drudges will know!

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