Cake Assassin Minion

Xanadu Weyr - Meadow
A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of weyrs, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves. The meadow continues with gentle rolls and dips, grass tall and short waving in the slightest of breezes, and eventually those hills grow higher and steeper, ending in a large rige that provides a fine view of that meadow and the rest of the Weyr, gazing out over the multicolored roofs of the houses and the cliff that holds the caverns.
Runner stables with the paddock beyond are to the south beyond the meadow weyrs, and a smithy and a woodcraft shop are settled closer in towards the path to the clearing. Trees border the northern side of the meadow, and more of those low, rolling hills can be seen to the northwest. A road passes through the meadow, coming from the east and used by traders and crafters alike. Wagons laden with felled trees from the forests or ore from the mountains are hauled by burden beast up the road through the meadow, over the bridge spanning the river to be processed in the appropriate workshops.

The reasonable thing to do when one /first/ arrives at a new posting is to probably find someone in charge to help one get set up. Unfortunately Sylvarian is not reasonable, or perhaps he's just avoiding doing any paperwork that might be required. What the baker /is/ interested in, however, is getting lost. Or exploring. The definition is kind of debatable at this point. His current foray into the wilds of Xanadu have lead him to the (not so) treacherous…meadow. He's well equipped for his adventure however, his attire consisting of a pair of loose fitting shorts and a dark blue v-neck. While most of his belongings will be arriving later, the young man /is/ equipped with a bag that's been slung over his shoulder and another container of what can only be food that is held in both hands. At the moment he's found his way to the path through the meadow only to stop and stare long and hard at the grass. Should he venture out there? "People always talk about enjoying picnics…" But he's also /not/ the biggest fan of nature. Judging by the wrinkled nose, he's quite torn about the whole thing. Is it /really/ worth it?

Hey, a meadow can be vicious. There's like… moles. And spiders, probably. Not to mention ants, which are one of the best-known hazards of picnics. The place is probably swarming with them, just hiding out underneath that innocent-looking grass. BE WARY. …and if you're going to do that, you should definitely not follow the example of D'lei, who is crossing that meadow like it ain't no thang. Just walking right through it, like his boots are made for walking or something. Aww yeah. Which … also means he's headed toward Sylvarin, so maybe the baker can see whether he gets mauled by a giant ant lion along the way.

BEWARE ALL YE WHO VENTURE INTO THIS HERE MEADOW. Or, I mean, Xanadu Weyr at large, for that matter. See, the moles, and the spiders, and the ants, and the D'leis are all viciously (hot, but just D'lei) and scary (attractive), but there is probably nothing quite like what stalks after D'lei to set off all those IT'S A TRAP!!! alarm bells. Subtlety isn't Leirith's strong point on a good day, so it's probably safe to say that there's absolutely nothing at all inconspicuous about that massive golden hide with her rump quite literally up in the air; there's no hiding that boxy head, or those massive wings, or that bulky body as she creeps (and by creeps, we mean storms. like a rhinoceros.) along in the grass with her forearms bent in an effort to hide the bulk of her. You know, like a cat. A really big, really dragon-y cat. That's probably a little (BADASS) dumb. A lot dumb. Incredibly — OKAY. So the point is that D'lei is walking RIGHT ON THROUGH, and Leirith is RIGHT ON HIS HEELS (SO MANY SNEAKS, YOU DEFFOS DON'T SEE HER, SHHH) and there's a stranger who — boop beep boop WOOOO — is quite suddenly (and unfortunately) on the receiving end of that gold's attention. See: subtlety of a rhino. « MINION. IT HAS GIFTS FOR US. » Because, yeah. That's totally what bags and boxes of food are for, and lucky for them both, D'lei is already headed that way because that means Leirith doesn't have to change course, just hopefully not run over D'lei when she picks up the pace. Or, you know, Sylvarin.

Sylvarin drags his gaze up from the grass only to find an approaching D'lei…which leads to staring. Sure, staring might be rude, but this man is just /walking/ through /nature/. Course, there are bigger more golden things to be mildly wary off and the baker's eyes go just a /skosh/ wide at the dragon-cat charging through the meadow. He can't really help it when he takes one step backwards, and then another. He'll even try a side step to see if maybe he's just in the way of them getting to something else. And to add to the horror (welcome?) train, some flying bugs have decided that they need to take to the air with all that commotion. While terrified isn't a word that could be used to describe the baker's expression, there's just a hint of disgust. Mostly for the bugs. And the grass. "If I die here…" The words are muttered quietly under his breathe, but there might be some real concern there!

Leiriths? In his Weyr? …yes. Yes there are, and D'lei is so unsurprised by this fact that he might as well be oblivious to it, or at least, he might as well be (acting as if he is) oblivious to the gold sneaky-stalk-thumping behind him. At least… until she breaks her cover (that she didn't have in the first place). D'lei tilts his head as if to better hear the boom-boom of Leirith's all-but-unmissable mind, then… looks back to Sylvarin. POOR SOD. "She's friendly!" he calls out, not like it helps, and then - to Leirith - "Don't squish them!" The gifts, of course. "Or him!" Also important, and definitely totally reassuring.

SO MANY OF THEM. But she will not squish — at least not today. She does make a rather impressive (it's not at all impressive, but let her have her moment) leap over D'lei, talons digging into dirt and mud and grasss and muck so that she can skiiiiiiid to a stop and — BOOP. Yes, that would be Leirith's snout, and it's RIGHT IN SYLVARIN'S BOOT. Why hello there, stranger. You come here often? And perhaps the gold lingers too long, but she does eventually lift her head to turn whirling eyes onto D'lei, green and blue bleeding and mixing and saying SHE AMUSED and SHE FRIENDLY (like Dash said, because she is) and SHE UNDAUNTED. « Can we keep it? I bet it will call me fierce leader. » MOOAHAHAHAHA. But no, dear Sylvarin; if you are receptive to dragon speak, then that boom of bass and deafening house-party drums is not in your imagination. That endless, exuberant, sunbright cheer is Leirith, and she's shifting to press her maw in against D'lei's side because HE IS HERE, HI HELLO. SO IS SHE. SO IS THIS STRANGER whoooooo has another somebody sneaking up behind him — this time Risali, who is sans her knot, but definitely in her leathers (because she is all about wrecking things that are painstaking to clean) with her hair twisted up in a messy bun and her arms crossed over her chest. "Didn't even try to stop her, Dash?" Said softly, with amusement because she's met Leirith, and she knows the impossibility of deterring terrible ideas. Not that Dash is the person to deter those — SHUT UP. LISTEN. Those grey eyes are shifting to Sylvarin, perhaps swatting at some bugs or something from in front of her face as she breathes out, "Are you okay?" HI HELLO.

Sylvarin says, "/Is/ she though? Really?" Sylvarin makes no attempts to hide his skepticism at D'lei's reassurances. He should probably be giving his formal greetings and what-not, but he's currently trapped between a quickly approaching gold and…grass. The distrust on his features? It only grows when D'lei talks to Leirith about squishing things because this is suddenly a very real possibility in his mind! "What the….." The words start as a low whisper when the gold makes her leap into the air and now poor Sylvarin is just frozen in place. Sure he's been around dragons given that he grew up in a Weyr. But he's never been suddenly /charged/ by a gold, or what /he/ considers is being charged. And then she is /right there/ and her nose is on his BOOT and her voice is in his HEAD and that apparently is all too much for the newly arrived baker because while he isn't shrieking like a woman or anything he does have many choice words. "What the /fuck/….Faranth…shells…shit WHAT the /fuck/?" Course then there's someone behind him too and that container with mystery food items? It's going to the floor cause he's spinning around to stare at a Risali…only to spin around again because who knows what bug/dragon/mole is gonna attack him from the other direction. Don't worry guys…he's usually a lot calmer…/usually/."

Really, truly, the Leirith-est! "Well," D'lei starts to answer Sylvarin, but then Leirith goes and pounces and wants to keep him and - "You already have a minion," he informs the gold with a bump-pet. A minion, who isn't him, except it also is him (and half of Pern), but… anyhow. He lifts his eyebrows to Risali's protest, then grins. "She claimed an exemption." To control-related activities. "It was too much paperwork." Because that's how dragons and Weyrs work, right? His gaze turns to Sylvarin, and his lips tug to the side wryly. There's a glance to Risali of the knowing sort, and then D'lei ducks to pick up that dropped box (and maybe peek a little, while he's at it). He's helping! …sorta.

COME NOW, SYLVARIN. BE A BADASS. Or, you know, curse like one. DETAILS, DETAILS. "I'm pretty sure having her in the weyr is half the paperwork to begin with." So it's FAIR, D'LEI. So is Sylvarin's rhetorical (maybe) expletives that have Risali fixing D'lei with a look, the sort that has brows rising, and lips fixing in a half-smile that holds no humor but is certainly bracing for the blowback. Sylvarin is not the first poor, unfortunate soul to lose their temper (or mind, or… what nots and what have yous) at the gold's rambunctious ostentatiousness. "Right, that fuck is Leirith, and that one is D'lei." And since D'lei is retrieving the box (and Risali is also side-eyeing the contents because she is likewise helpful, the goldrider aims to focus on the baker instead. "I'm Risali, and I'm sure it's a pleasure, but you didn't answer my question. Focus. Are you okay?" There's no steel in Risali's voice, but there is perhaps a hint of command to it, the kind that bids for his attention if her leaning into his space to cut off his view (JUST KIDDING, SHE'S SUPER SHORT) of Leirith doesn't do the job. A firmness, even, that might be a bit undermined by the way she steps towards D'lei and then pauses between them. OR MAYBE SHE JUST NEEDS THE SPACE TO LOOK UP AT BROODY MCBAKERPANTS OVER HERE OKAY.

Should D'lei happen to get a peek inside the box, he'll find six identical pastries that probably looked a lot nicer before the box was dropped. The small round cakes are covered with a black glaze and a little squiggly thing on the top that's been dipped in what looks like some sort of powdered sweetener. What used to be a pristine finish is now kind of jumbled, but at least they appear tasty-ish? It's near impossible to tell what flavors the cakes may be though, and the only smell that one can really get is the sweetener. Only a taste-test will determine flavors here! Sylvarin, it seems, is very bad at being a badass. His mind is working at a snail's pace right now and it's only after Risali has successfully drawn attention that it seems to dawn on him that he knows these names. "Oh, uh, what a cute…fuck…" His language is starting to border on incoherent, but he's going through a hard time, ok?? Maybe it's an attempt at being nice. Right…he was asked a question. What was the question? Do dragons eat cake? "I….am fine." A little grumpy and eyebrows a little knit together, "I won't die." Look, he is /young/ and /male/ and he deserves to brood in a not-really-sexy but he sometimes /thinks/ he is manner! And also it distracts him from all the dirt. Cause gross.

Won't die? "Excellent!" D'lei says. "Death is a whole lot of paperwork. Very inconvenient." He nods, with a glance to Risali - then back to the baker. "So, anyhow, Leirith is quite cheerful but should be sorry that she's broken your things, and we can definitely buy these broken goods off you if you'd like." He half-grins. "We can even promise to taunt her by eating them in front of her." A moment's pause. "Well, we can attempt to, anyhow. She'd probably steal one anyhow." But an attempt can be made, and that's… something. "I'm D'lei, by the way." Introductions! They're a thing.

"He is a cute fuck, isn't he?" And this time Risali's focusing a deviant smile onto D'lei, the kind that shows too many teeth and purposely misses that Leirith is (probably) the actual recipient of that insultliment (complisult?) because taking things out of context on purpose is right up this queenrider's alley. Still, those grey eyes come back, focus on Sylvarin as he speaks and Risali's expression goes softer — just a little, losing an edge of preparation in favor of something else. "Good," Risali says, softer still. "Because D'lei is right: death is a whole lot of paperwork." And here the goldrider reaches out, to gently clap Sylvarin on the shoulder if he doesn't shift out of her range before she steps closer to D'lei and tilts her head to see the inside of the box. FOOD. GLORIOUS FOOD. It's there for a second in her eyes, an excitement that she stamps all over by clearing her throat and pushing at Leirith's snout when she goes about attempting to steal one before they are even paid for. She will let the bronzerider and baker make this transaction, though! D'lei is, after all, arguably better with people.

It seems that Sylvarin's head is slowly returning to some state of normalcy. Perhaps it's talking about his cakes that distracts him from his not so near death experience. There's a cough from the young man he lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck for a moment before it moves again to rest on his bag. "You really don't have to buy them, I was kind of hoping to find some test subjects anyways. They're my latest sample product." And for the first time during this whole ordeal there's a flash of something other than horror and worry in the baker's eyes. In fact there seems to be a delightful little /glint/ to those green little circles. And that upwards twitch of his lip? Not quite a smile but not exactly a neutral expression either. It maybe for her reference to who the actual cute fuck may be. "It'd probably do wonders for my reputation though. Young, genius baker dies in tragic meadow accident before he can earn his rightful fame." Look, he really has found his words after all! Sylv doesn't shy away from the clap on his shoulders though he'll wince like a wimp. Not that it actually hurt him or anything.

DON'T WORRY, SYLVARIN. D'lei knows the pain of your abuse very, very well. Maybe that's why he's grinning — or maybe that's just what D'leis do, because they are amicable men made of Tougher Stuff who still, somehow, Get It. Risali bounces onto the tips of her toes, bumps her shoulder into D'lei and looks momentarily too excited by the prospect of getting to taste-test food that all of her Super Serious facade is dropped. She doesn't scramble to reclaim it either, instead scrunching her nose up with humor as those deviant grey eyes shift back to Sylvarin and one finger hooks towards the box. "They'd probably sell these for an astronomical amount of marks, you know. Your Death Pastries — or put them in a glass box where we could all look and wonder, but never taste." THEN THERE WOULD BE A NEW KIND OF THIEF INVENTED. Adventure. "What's in them?" Risali asks, steering the conversation back towards topics that are safe as Leirith, once again, goes in for the kill and, once again, gets pushed back. "And are you sure you don't want us to pay for them?" Because they kind of ruined them, you know. And by they, we clearly mean Leirith.

Sylvarin doesn't exactly grin, but he'll glance over at D'lei and pretend to be a fellow manly man for a second. Course that doesn't really last very long because he's a bit of a weirdo. "Hmmm, now that /is/ a good idea, isn't it? The Forbidden Pastry, one bite could kill…but it /could/ be a blissful death that's absolutely worth it." There's a slight pause when she asks what's in the pastries and unfortunately Risali isn't going to get a straight answer on that. "If I told you it'd take away all the fun, wouldn't it?" There's a glint in the baker's eyes and now that he's gotten a chance to think clearly he realizes that there /haven't/ been introductions on his end yet. "Sylvarin, newly arrived from Fort. And I guess those probably don't make it hard to tell but…I'll be a new baker here, specializing in pastry." Blah blah blah, boring boring boring. The whole time he's talking he is /staring/ at the box and the little cakes inside just /waiting/ for someone to take a bit. He's even starting to lean forward a bit with anticipation. "You can pay with your suggestions for improvement." No marks needed!

Risali bites down on her laughter — literally — by sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and staring at Sylvarin for a Very Long Time. The minute shake of her head finally comes, a hiccup of humor that manifests as breathy laughter and spans the entirety of an exhale but no more. "I have a feeling that would land you on the wrong side of society." Or dead, she doesn't say, because THEY ARE BEING FUNNY and her entire demeanor holds humor. Until it doesn't, possibly because SECRET INGREDIENTS LOOM BETWEEN THEM NOW, and Risali is thoroughly unsurprised at the answer given to her. AND UNAMUSED. "Alright, Sylvarin," she offers after the end of introductions, reaching in to grab a little cake that she sniffs, then turns over in her hands to inspect, then splits in half to divvy up between D'lei and herself. Risali keeps her half, D'lei keeps his, and the goldrider raises brows at the Weyrleader before reaching out to GIVE HIM A TOAST. WITH THEIR MUTUAL FOOD. 'IF WE DIE, BECAUSE THIS ONE SEEMS CRAZY,' that seems to say, and then Risali is biting into it. DOES SHE DIE? IS SHE LYING AND PRETENDING TO BITE AND WATCHING DASH HARD TO SEE IF HE DIES?

"I mean, you might be a harper who's decided to play the mixing-bowl and oven," D'lei muses, because that's an entirely plausible thing to be. He does, however, except that half-pastry offered to him, and lifts it in an answered toast. He pauses a moment before biting down, though. "If we do, you make sure to take full advantage of the marketing opportunity, though," he demands of Sylvarin, then… bites down! For realz.

"Some would already say I've got a toe on the wrong side of society." It's very clear from the first bite that these little cakes are /not/ your typical pastries. From the second that it hits the tongue there's something decidedly fishy about the harmless looking thing. The cake itself is a sweet plain cake but there seems to be an odd filling…caviar. YES. Caviar. And that black glaze is so colored because it's been tinted, and seasoned, with /squid ink/. Which of course means that squiggly little thing on top covered in sweetener? Yeah, it's a squid leg. The moment Sylvarin sees Risali and D'lei bite into his little concoction his entire demeanor changes. Gone is that horrified young man wincing at claps on the shoulder. Instead a shadow falls over his face as those green eyes shine brilliantly under the sunlight. His lips curl upwards in a large smile and honestly he looks nothing short of /sinister/ at the moment. It may be hard to tell but he might even be /cackling/ quietly under his breathe. He MIGHT die on his first day at Xanadu, but this is what he /lives/ for. His family knows to avoid his creations. Sylv has a /thing/ for creating terrible concoctions but he /can/ actually do pastries really well, which might make all his monstrosities even worse.

Risali was raised with manners. She really was. She was raised with so many manners that she bites into that cake expecting, well… not this. And she's still polite enough not to let horror take over her features; she's polite enough to chew again. And again. And… once more before she chokes that down. "That's…" Is she losing color? Ignore it. The smile is still there. "Very…" ANNNNND SHE'S THROWING UP. Yep, right there, right in the middle of the field; she's pushing away from D'lei and doubling over and OUT COMES THAT MONSTROSITY. And, you know, whatever that is that she ate before. To be fair, she tries to stumble some distance so that it's not so rude, but Leirith is booming with laughter and now eating the rest of the pastries (or trying, if D'lei doesn't duck outta there), and Risali is over there, losing her everything. To be fair, she is pregnant, so maybe it's not all that terrible. But the tiny human inside definitely disagrees, and Risali would say goodbye, except that she can't seem to stop long enough to catch her breath. So instead she just kind of… you know… stumbles away, to the beat of Leirith's Very Humored Drum. « HE IS LIKE A BADASS CAKE ASSASSIN MINION. WE ARE KEEPING HIM. » Yep.

It's like … salted caramel. Or teriyaki squid. Except, neither of those quite express the tiny balls of caviar that roll against the tongue and try to get caught to the teeth in a way entirely unlike the way that caramel would do. D'lei's mouth slows down, taking a more careful assessment of just what it is that's inside it, and then his jaw works again with another round of bite-tasting the … pastry. The squiviarstry? It's very much what it is, but describing what it is… well… "Huh." Yeah, that's about what D'lei has. So articulate. "It's… interesting." Which could just be a polite euphemism, but he actually does sound intrigued. "Tastes a bit like…" He stops. He does not continue that statement, but he does take another nibble of the pastry, considering it again before he nods. "Yeah-" Aaaand whatever else he might have said there is interrupted by Risali's…. reaction. Her very visceral reaction. D'lei arches brows, with a bit of concern, but he doesn't exactly rush after her, instead turning back to Sylvarin. "I see why Fort kicked you out," he says, an amused tone under the words. "Welcome to Xanadu. I'll let folks know whose name to curse." A grin, a wave, and… he's following after Risali, or maybe just going to spread the terrible terrible word. But he takes the rest of his pastry with him.

To be fair, Sylvarin didn't /know/ Risali had a bun in the oven so maybe it excuses him a little teensy bit? He can only hope. He would probably look a lot more horrified at the Weyrwoman's throwing up if he had that sort of knowledge. But he does not. So instead he's just grinning like a fool and looking all too pleased with himself. "Cake minion…?" That expression only seems to grow stronger when D'lei doesn't seem to react so violently. "It's considered a delicacy you know, there's some fancy stuff in there." It's the most improper use of caviar that has been attempted recently. "Fort only wanted to share the love, and where better than Xanadu, no?" And as for the cursing. "All publicity is good publicity!" But he should /probably/ get out of here before he pushes his luck too far and when the two wander off it's his cue to quietly start making his way back to the Weyr proper. He definitely has plans for his next concoction already, be prepared!

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