Hooky in the Stores Room

Xanadu Weyr - Store Room

This large storeroom is lit with a series of electric lights, illuminating the smooth cut walls. Rows of shelving contain all sorts of items, while large trunks contain all sorts of clothing, and a mix-matched variety of furniture is stacked up in one corner.

Morning - once the beasts in the stables have been fed - brings the small, skinny blonde Candidate into the stores. She's still bulky in her clothing choices - preferring warmth over style or even comfort - but today she seems to be even more … wide. Looking around the corners in the room, she checks to make sure she's alone before kneeling down by a pile of old linens and pulling a small wrapped parcel out of her shirt. Pale, bony hands move torn sheets out of the way and a small mewling sound can be heard. A litter of five kittens tumble over each other in their haste to get to 'mom' and the dinner she's brought. Rylavi doesn't speak to them, but there are soothing sounds that come from her throat; humming, rumbling, purling sounds. Like how a cat would speak to her own ilk. For all she knows, she could have just recited the teaching ballads in Cat, but since it seems to make her small charges more at ease, she doesn't appear to mind.

There's a series of footsteps trudging into the storage cavern, soft, but of someone obviously not trying to be quiet. The sound of rummaging might be heard long before Eledri comes into view, the computercrafter dressed for the cold, perhaps a little overly-so. His hair, having grown longer in the turns he's spent at Xanadu, in in dire need of a trim, barely contained in a runertail and falling in the way of his eyes, even with the set of wire-rimmed spectacles perched high on the bridge of his nose. The crafter is also doing some muttering under his breath, though is ceases with one sudden, and barely-coverd sneeze, the young man bringing an arm up in front of his face and then wrinkling his nose. He adjusts his glasses, and the strap of the shoulder bag across his chest, before he continues, frowning vaguely at the.. noises over there. Coming to a halt, the guy just blinks a bit, "..Oh." Gasp, kittens.

Busy as she is with her small charges, Rylavi just doesn't hear the soft tread of approaching feet. As a matter of fact, it isn't until the sneeze that she whips around to investigate. The sight of Eledri - a face only familiar in the most vague of senses - drains what little color she has from her face entirely. Still half-kneeling on the ground, and now with one of the more adventurous baby toms scrambling up her knee to try and leap onto the package of good-smelling food in her hand, she can only stare up at the nearly nerdy crafter. Better to let him say something first; find out just how much trouble she's actually in.

Eledri just sort of eyes the critter convention down there, gaze rising a bit to peer at Rylavi from behind those spectacles. Oh yes, /talking/, that's something Eledri can probably do. In fact, he opens his mouth to say something just then, "..Ah" And has to quickly raise an arm again, "..CHOO!" /Sniff/. "Ugh," there's some rummaging in that bag of his, and this time he manages to find a handkerchief. Snuffle. His nose is promptly covered, at least, though there's a muffled, "Uh, hello," and a glance around. "Don't suppose you know where they keep the electrical equipment?" Trouble? Well, the computercrafter does return to eyeing the kittens a bit, and tacks on after a second, "What're you doing with those things?" Other than, obviously, feeding them, apparently.

This is the stare that never ends … There's a mindless, annoying and half-hysterical song running through the back of Rylavi's head and it makes her slightly less personable than usual - which some would have said was impossible before now. "Electrical stuff's over there." She points to a shelf on the other side of the room, having had the lovely chore of helping to unload it the sevenday before. She reaches down under the baby tom's fuzzy belly and lifts him to rest on the top of her thigh while she opens the wrapping cloth and pulls out little bits of wherry and fish to feed the kittens with. She's gotten it down to an efficient system by now and for the most part it goes smoothly. "They're kittens and they haven't got a momma, so I'm making sure they get fed until they're old enough to keep the tunnelsnakes and the other critters out of the crawly-spaces around here."

If anything's running through Eledri's head, it might be a catalogue of equpment he needs, because as soon as the girl points out where, his eyes dart there and narrow. Target acquired! Ahem. "Thanks," is muttered, half-muffled behind the handkerchief as he heads that way, the kittens given a brief, if wary kind of look. "I see," he mumbles somewhat dubiously at her answer about the kittens, the computercrafter wrinkling his nose again and then stifling a sneeze behind the cloth in his hand. "Ugh.. you'd think they'd dust this place once in awhile," his grumping accompanied by an odd sort of snuffling sound. Oh yes, dusting the storage caverns is such a /high/ priority. Sigh. The bag is adjusted before he begins scanning the shelves, saying idly while he sreaches for whatever, "Maybe they'll keep the tunnelsnakes out. My sister nearly got eaten by the infestation a few turns ago." And he's frowning to himself, now, though considering his lack of even an introduction, it's possible the whole social interraction thing isn't his strong suit.

That makes two of them, then. Rylavi would be much happier if she only ever had to work with critters instead of people. With five hungry kittens, it doesn't take long for the little package of dinner to disappear into now-happy bellies. As she sits down properly, legs crossed tailor-style and back braced against one of the shelves, it's only seconds before her lap is covered in happy, sleeping balls of kitten fluff. "I doubt that's high on everyone's list of things to do," she answers wryly. "But on second though, don't mention that to anyone else. They'll probably make us Candidates do it." Her nose wrinkles at the very idea of /another/ unpleasant chore being added to their list. "Eaten?" There's naked incredulity in her voice. "Tunnelsnakes don't /get/ big enough to eat people. That's just a story to scare little kids with." And she's obviously not a little kid, so she's /obviously/ not buying.

It's morning, and Eledri is looking his usual grumpy self, frowning away at a shelf of tech equipment, and giving Rylavi over there the occasional sidelong glance from behind his spectacles. There miight be a slight smirk at the request about the chore, though the computercrafter only shrugs, "Can't be worse than anything else they have you doing. Heard some of you lot had to clear out the latrines," and there's quite the face he makes at the thought of that. Not that Eledri would know, only in the weyr for work-related reasons. Eyes return to the shelving, and he furrows his brow. Search search search.. Hrm. A snort from behind his handkerchief is his only reply about the tunnelsnakes, answering after a second or three, "They do, according to my sister," and there might be a humorless, crooked smile very briefly on his face, "She also claims the trundlebugs here swarmed her cot, and was once chased by a flaming sheep." His tone isn't even dubious. Good grief.

The skinny blonde girl-child shudders at the very mention of that awful chore. "With so many of us, each one only has to do that rarely, thank Faranth. Unless you get in trouble, but I've been able to stay mostly clear." It's not a chore she really relishes doing. At all. One hand reaches across to idly scritch behind a pair of fluffy ears - her lap full of five sleeping balls of kitten fluff - and she regards the crafter with narrowed eyes, their feline-green color seeming to intensify as she adjusts her focus. "That's a load of runner shit. Your sister's either dreaming or fibbing." She shrugs as if to lump them both at about the same level of 'bad'. Either dreaming is a sin or fibbing's just a part of life; all in how the tone is interpreted. "When's the last time /you/ saw a sheep on fire?"

Bringing the smell of the outdoors with him— a pine-like smell, sap, soil, and a very woodpulp-related scent— e-on is definitely not recently washed. He has mud dried on his pants, and streaked onto a shoulder of his jacket, some pine needles stuck into his loosely tied red ponytail. No doubt arriving after a day's work in his craft. His hands are clean though, and that's what counts, for pawing through items. Broad rough hands shove back sleeves from heavy forearms as he comes into the storeroom, and nods smoothly to Eledri at the shelf, spying him first, evidently, the girl located to the side unnoticed at first by the distracted lumberworker, though his knot marks him as Candidate, currently.

Quila enters moments later and in remarkably similar fashion - earthy, knees showing the indelible marks of dirt and grass, her normally loose disheveled mane twisted and pinned to the back of her head with a well placed pencil… and still further, her hands are /not/ clean, though as she enters she is making some effort of wiping them on her shirt. She also, it may be noted, is muttering a stream of words that, though more or less inaudible, do not seem particularly polite. This is cut short, however, as she sees she's definitely not alone, and after taking in the faces (two familiar, one not) her cloudy expression lightens and a smile is put in its place. "Everyone hidin' out here, huh?" is offered pleasantly, as she goes to a shelf to start rifling through a box.

Eledri's gaze is scanning the higher shelves, handkerchief still held over his scrunched-up nose. He's pausing in his search, only to stifle yet another sneeze, and utter another, vaguely irritable, "..Ugh." He shakes his head a little, the over-long hair in front of his eyes swept a bit to the side as he does so. "I wish," is muttered to Rylavi, the computercrafter hunching his shoulders as he answers, "About three to four turns ago," the incident with the sheep.. apparently having been witnessed firsthand. He doesn't sound too thrilled about it, either. Catching sight of first Relion, and then Quila out of the corner of his eye, he pauses to incline his head, mustering enough manners for a polite, "Hello." Quila's comment recieves a mumbled, "I'm.. looking for something," stating the obvious there, even as his eyes lock onto something with wires.. on the topmost shelf.

Recognition sparks mild emotion on Rylavi's face; first Relion and then Quila earn a nod of greeting. It's about the most friendly this skinny teenager seems to get. "Had to feed the kittens and hide from the laundry." Her answer is matter-of-fact, but stated with an edge to it, as if she's daring either one of her fellows to comment on her avoidance of the chore; Rylavi /hates/ laundry. She seems about to say more, but Eledri's calm statement has her jaw dropping and her eyes shifting to stare at him unabashedly. "You're joking." She blinks at him several more times before she is sure that no, he is perfectly serious. "That sounds like a story and a half." She snorts and gestures to the empty space alongside her in case either of her fellow Candidates wants to sit. "Tell us about it."

Relion didn't start to rifle through anything immediately, the tallish male got bogged down in rolling his left sleeve up, it didn't want to turn inside out easily due to being tight over his forearm, but he gets it roughly, finally, and grins briefly to Quila's comment, and then offers a surprised smile and nod to Rylavi, as he hadn't seen her before. "I guess," Relion agrees neutrally to Quila, amused. "Hi," Relion answers Eledri's greeting similarly politely and offhandedly; no doubt all of them in here are on missions of one type or another. Relion's has led him to squat, with a brief pluck of hands into the sides of his pants at the knees, at one of the trunks, flipping the lid open, and pawing through it briefly, minding not to totally wreck the folded garments. But soon he's moved to the next trunk, and burrows a hand into it, shifting contents, but has an ear tipped to this 'story'.

As the male candidate crouches to begin his search for, whatever, Quila passes by and - with a sly hand and a slight smirk - plucks the errant pine needles out of his hair, then continues on her way to accept Rylavi's unspoken invitation to share her seat. There she'll drop, leaning back comfortably with her legs stretched in front of her, seemingly completely oblivious to her fairly muddied state as she brushes her dirty hand over her hair, leaving a streak of lighter colored dust. There certainly is no chastisement from her for Rylavi dodging her chores, she just makes a low grunt. "Laundry's awful. I'm working gardens today. Not so bad." Yet, here she is. Eledri, who claims to be looking for something, is given a curious squint. "I don't believe I've seen you around before," she throws out conversationally, completely oblivious to any discussion of flaming sheep.

Eledri /peers/ at that top shelf, as if willing the object down with his MIND. Said object stays stubbornly put, obviously. He certainly makes no comment on the shirking of chores, even if Rylavi is glanced at sideways, briefly. Shoulders lift in a slight sort of shrug, the computercrafter saying, "Not much to tell. The idiot got herself on the bad side of another ovine, and was chased around the smithy. I guess it hit something in one of the forges, caught on fire. I only saw part of it, got out of there before anything happened." A brief frown crosses his features, "Thea would know more about it. Think she was there. Sometimes, I think Cen does it deliberately. Gets in trouble," brow furrowing, "Bugs, ovines, runners, 'snakes.." Story and a half indeed. Relion's trouble with his sleeve is given a brief look, before Eledri turns to Quila and comments, "I'm only here a few times a sevenday, when Nebula riders need a computercrafter. Uh," pausing to perhaps realize his lack of introduction earlier, "I'm Eledri. Landing's duties." He could stand to have more enthusiasm, in general, really.

Enthusiasm isn't really a necessary quality in Rylavi's world, and an excess of it tends to put her off. Eledri's lackluster introduction seems to suit her just fine. "Rylavi," she points at herself, "Quila," she points at the girl sitting next to her, "and Relion." She points to the older boy rummaging in the chest. "Candidates all." Though the knots rather speak that for themselves. At least now it's in the open. One of the kittens - a rare true chocolate brown quene - starts to wake up and Rylavi deposits her in Quila's lap without any fanfare before turning to Relion. "What're you looking for?" She helped stock these shelves last seven, so it's likely that she'll have at least a general idea of where things are. Finally, however, it's Eledri's story that gets her attention and she snickers with ill-concealed - and not very nice - mirth. "Anyone what gets chased by a sheep that's on /fire/ is probably asking for it, you're right." The Junior weyrwoman's name, however, surprises her and she blinks. "Why was Thea in the forge with a flaming sheep?"

Orienting towards Quila as she passes close to him, sensing maybe a brush to his hair, Relion has a confused but hardly annoyed expression, but then spots the greenery she stole from his 'do. And grins a bit as she sits. He notices Eledri's lackluster mood, but doesn't mind-read Eledri's desire to get the top item down off the shelf (or he may have offered his height to be of use); Relion's half-listening to the story, though, head tipped. But, back to his trunk.

"Candidate Robes, but I think…" is Relion's answer to Rylavi's query; he trails off. Dig dig. Relion then releases a pleased, but quiet, deep 'a HA' of sound, not quite a 'Eureka!' but glad to have come across at least something resembling what he was looking for. He'd heard there was a trunk or two of white Candidate robes available, in all sizes, and lo, this looks like at least part of the stash. He sets aside the brown, greens and blues of other items from on top of the group of white, and hauls the white stack up and out, to set it on the truck's top that he'd recently closed and deemed as Not Useful. He goes back to the good trunk, to get the other white garment his haul left behind, and starts with it— half-opening it to guage size, and then re-folding it. He'd need to be more like five foot to consider wearing that one. With his relative size to most teen or child candidates this may end up being something of a bust, but he might get lucky. He looks up now and then, finding the flaming-sheep commentary quite an amusing distraction, perhaps.

Quila has a kitten. Unexpected but not in the least unwelcome, the wee scrap of fluff is immediately scooped into her hands and inspected, almost solemnly, before being cupped against her chest for a thorough behind-the-ears rubbing. Introductions are made all around, and since Rylavi supplied her name for her, she doesn't do much but nod a confirmation of all points. She's Quila. She's a candidate. And finally, "Pleasure," is offered, with considerably more warmth than the computercrafter had responded with. Rylavi's comments, the snickering and mention of the burning sheep, finally properly catches her ear and she turns a quizzical look on her fellow candidate, but before she can probe this fascinating issue, Relion makes his discovery and she is quickly and easily distracted. She leans forward (careful not to disturb her new fuzzy ward), with a low 'mmmm' of satisfaction. The fella just did her work for her. "Dig one out for me, yeah?" she says, helpfully gesturing at herself as though that will help him intuit her size.

Lackluster, Eledri can do, alright. There's an equally lacking, "Well met," once their names have been revealed, though at least it's polite, the young man offering another faint nod in Rylavi and Quila's direction. There's a snort for Rylavi's comment on the flaming sheep, the computercrafter promptly sneezing into the handkerchief again. Ugh. As for what Thea was doing there, Eledri only shakes his head, "Faranth only knows." It's not much of an answer, and the man seems to realize this, adding on, "They're friends.. Guess she might've been trying to keep Cen out of trouble." Another vague sort of frown settles over his features, though whether its for his troublesome sister or the too-high-to-reach equipment, might be debatable. And Faranth forbid the crafter ever ask for /help/, that would be logical. No, he just glares at the equipment up there. That 'a HA' over Relion's way has him turning to peer at what the candidate is doing, momentarily distracted himself. "Wonder how long it's going to be until the eggs hatch," said more to himself than the candidates.

"Bets are starting to say anywhere from tomorrow to next month," Rylavi answers Eledri's wondering first. Only then does her attention stray to Relion. "I thought we had to make our own." There's a bit of a whine in that statement. She'd been bent over a scrap of white cloth for /days/ before giving the shredded thing up in disgust. "There's not a smaller one in there, is there?" Any work that can be skipped in favor of a hand-me-down is always excellent. The other four kittens are moved swiftly but carefully to places on Quila's lap. They can sleep there for a moment, because - as the annoyed expression on her face can attest to - Rylavi has tired of watching the crafter struggle after an item he's not about to get. Though shorter than he, she's also wily and light. With hand-holds and foot-notches on some shelves she's certain of in terms of stability, she clambers up and braces her side against the shelf while grasping the item he was after - slowly and with care, just in case it's heavy.

Relion answers Eledri first, "Hopefully not before we manage robes." He had mostly-folded the robe he'd had out, but now pauses, and tips it back and forth at Quila at her request. He did notice her little fuzzy charge, though, so he stands up, using the trunk's edge to hand-up more easily, and crosses to plop that white robe on her outstretched legs, expression amused. "That one too small?" Relion asks, but doesn't stick around close by while she examines it or decides, he's gone back to the pile of others, going through them, a series of rejecting, by the look of it. "I may have to make /mine/, but no, we don't have to, if you can find one," Relion answers with the information passed to him, eyes on his garment search. However, that doesn't last long, and Rylavi's climb up the shelving alerts him immediately. "Agh— here, I can get that," Relion offers, embarrassed that he didn't realize he was the 'tall' one sooner, ditching the white robe he'd been pulling out in a pile, and moving to assist with handling the top-shelf gizmo, watchful of potentially needing to brace Rylavi if she finds it's heavier than she anticipated. "What is it?"

Quila has /many/ kittens. Again, what could be bad about that? Lazy fingers stroke patterns over fuzzy heads as she watches with some amusement as Rylavi takes matters into her own hands, scaling walls and risking life and limb for the sake of that wired gizmo, and her only comment was, "I was about a breath away from doin' that m'self." Then Relion goes throwing himself into the effort as well, and Q follows that up with a playful flash of a wink towards Eledri, "We're a helpful lot, we." Of course, she's not moving, as she is now engaged with furry charges and the examination of a robe, which she reaches for with one hand and shakes out to consider the size. "Too small? Not likely," she says with a wry note, considering her moderately tiny stature. "It'll do with a few modifications. Hopefully won't butcher it too bad." Now she'll skip, in a roundabout fashion, to the topic of the eggs. She sighs, leaning back again, allowing her head to hit the wall with a soft thud. "Sooner, please, rather'n later. 'Bout fed up with all this nonsense."

Eledri nods vaguely at Rylavi's answer, lips tugging upward at one corner for Relion's, the computercrafter commenting, "Yes, hopefully not before. Don't think they'd actually send all of you out there naked, however." And maybe he's kind of amused by that. The crafter had just begun to glance around, probably for something to stand on, when Rylavi just up and climbs the shelf, causing Eledri to let out a bit of a -squawk- and rush forward with a, "Be careful with that!" And maybe he's a bit embarrassed too, though he does answer Relion's question, brows knitting together in alarm, "It's a computer part they left to gather dust. I'm taking ack to Landing for repair, and u-" SNEEZE. Luckily, he gets the handkerchief up in time, so doesn't end up 'achooing' all over those poor candidates. He's not going to be much help in getting the item down, but at least it's not that heavy. He doesn't miss Quila over there with lapful of kittens, the man mumbling an, "Uh.." at her wink and comment about them being helpful, turning back to mumble a handkerchief muffled, "Thanks," at the candidates.

Thankfully work in the stables - and with runners - involves a lot of upper arm exercise. Rylavi doesn't lack in strength there, even with her small size. She manages to wrest the part into a firm grip and pull it off the shelf. She will, however, hand it off quickly to Relion so that she can re-adjust her slightly slipping grip. "There. Much easier that way." And she flashes Eledri with a self-satisfied grin. "You oughta keep a tall assistant around, computercrafter. I've always seen the tech-y stuff on the highest shelves to keep the children out of it." That said, she scrambles down to the floor and brushes the dust off her palms. Oops, that's probably not going to help anyone's sneezes. She does have the grace to look a little sheepish once she's realized what she's done, but there are no verbal apologies.

Relion accepts the equipment as soon as Rylavi's slid it to his hands, lowering it slowly, with care, mostly so that the computercrafter doesn't flip out over someone 'without proper respect for the craft' manhandling it or something. He treats the machine like it weighs nothing (of course), and smoothly offers it to Eledri. (It might have weighed more if Quila wasn't watching them, but she IS, and so flexing is kind of going to happen.) "Don't look at me, for that," Relion says warily of Rylavi's suggestion to the computercrafter about getting an assistant. He ignores the dust as if it wasn't there; he's used to sawdust everywhere, and doesn't react. Except to obviously not particularly want to get /sneezed/ on. Yeah, yuck.

Quila is a dutiful audience from her comfortable, reclining position, liberally sprinkled with cats. Both for Rylavi's feats of agility, and the requisite flexing and manly lifting that Relion engages in, both observed with an almost serene smile - though there's a sparkle in her dark eyes. "Nicely done, all," she says, with a light clapping of hands, softly done so as not to disturb sleeping felines. They're going to be disturbed shortly anyways, though, as a shadow passes across the doorway into the stores and a none-too-amused male voice calls her name, resulting in her usually pleasant expression clouding again. "Yeah, yeah," she responds, tilting her head to peer towards the figure. "Coming." The kittens are redeposited, and since there are no humans available, the open trunk of robes will serve as a nest. "Guess they noticed I was missing," she says with a sigh, stepping across and brushing, just for a moment, past Eledri to sieze a few gardening implements. Then back she goes, though not as reluctantly as she might if she were, for example, having to do laundry. "Been a pleasant intelude," she offers, smile flashing again for all parties present.

Eledri watches at the piece of equpment is lowered, with much trepidation. He might even be holding his breath there, as Rylavi passes it over to Relion. Ahem. Still, once the part /is/ safely down, the computercrafter's shoulders relax, and even smiles slightly with an "I'll think about it," in reply to the idea of a tall assistant. He starts to reach a hand out when Relion offers it, and then promptly pulls the hand in instead, in order to cover his nose, just in time to let out a phenominally loud 'AAAHCCHOO!' And maybe there's a bit of a sideways look at Rylavi's dusting of her hands, though he makes no comment on it either, just snuffling into his handkerchief and making a lovely scrunchieface. There's a vague sort of mumbled something at Quila's exit, though with his face in the handkerchief, what he's actually saying is anyone's guess. Eyebrows do go up at the sight of the garden equipment, but he's already fiddling with the bag he's carrying, opening it up and then reaching to take the offered computer part again.

Rylavi watches the placing of kittens with a nearly maternal caution, finally nodding silent approval once they're all tucked in safe and sound. She raises one hand in farewell to Quila, but doesn't bother with words. They'll just tumble out in one awkward heap of nonsense anyway. Most human communication does. Relion, however, gets an irritated glance and a roll of her eyes. "I didn't say /you/, did I? I doubt you're the only tall person in the world, and besides, you can't very well run around grabbing his things off shelves with a baby dragon in tow, now can you?" Eledri's sneeze makes her jump and she turns to him with a light scowl, though from her youthful, skinny face, it's not really all that terrifying at all. "Didn't anyone ever give you something for that? There's stuff you can sniff and goop you can put under your nose and even something you can swallow what should stop all that sneezing. You sick or just allergic?"

Relion pulled the part aside quickly and automatically— though probably more to not get his hands sneezed on than to save the part from flying snot— but once Eledri composes himself, or at least his nose, offers it back over to slip into the bag direction, with a motion of head to just hold the bag open, he'll put it inside rather than them trying to sort it back and forth between them. He smiles a bit at Rylavi's commentary: tolerantly, perhaps more used to her social ineptness by now to just let it wash over him.

"Don't kill too many flowers," Relion chuckles aside to Quila as she moves past them to obey the irritated gardener. "See you later at the barracks, I'll bring that small robe for you," he adds to Quila of the robe she's left behind, before attention is back on the bag and getting Eledri squared away. Once that's completed, though, he'll return to the trunk, rubbing dust off on his pants so as not to get it all over the white garb he's looking through, despite that it all needs re-laundering before wearing, what with this long storage.

Eledri gives Rylavi a bit of a sidelong look, though he seems rather unaffected by her scowl. Many people scowl at Eledri, usually involving computers and user error. He's probably used to it by now. "I'm not sticking goop under my nose," he mutters, snuffling once again into the handkerchief, and moving to hold the bag open so Relion can stick the thing in. "Thanks," is said again, muffledly, efore he adds an exasperated, "I don't know. It only started when I walked in here," in answer to Rylavi. Once the piece of equipment is secure in his shoulder back, the crafter will close it up securely, all the while holding the handkerchief over his nose with one hand. Mission accomplished! Even if he didn't actually do anything. Having acquired the item, he inclines his head to the two remaining candidates, mumbling an, "It was nice to meet you," before retreating from all the dust, and stifling another sneeze. Poor man, hopefully he makes it out of the storage caverns without sneezing his nose off.

"Then it's allergies. Here," she steps around the kitten chest and reaches up into a box on another shelf to pull out a small bundle of dried flowers and jogging to catch up to Eledri before he leaves. "If you crush those up into a powder and make yourself cry into it to get it wet," she begins, giving him a Look to say she's serious about the tears. "Because if you use water it'll burn, then sniff it up into your nose, you'll be miserable for about a day, but then you won't be sneezy anymore for the rest of the season." Until the plants change the the remedy is no longer effective. That said and hopefully with the herbs handed over, she stalks back into the storage room, hands on hips. "Now, where in the world are the small white robes?"

Listening to the allergy discussion (And damn glad he doesn't have the problem to need to snuff anything up into his nose or force tears), Relion has gone back to the pile by the trunk. "They're right here. That's all I've found," Relion answers Rylavi dryly, turning around to hold one up in front of him. Not only would it be too narrow, but a slight breeze would probably show off his butt to the crowd at the sands. Perhaps not something HE would enjoy particularly. He sets it in the rejected pile, mindful that they don't spill over onto the mewling kitten-nest. "I could probably combine them into something I could use, but rather not have to," Relion comments dryly, still looking through them.

Eledri does pause briefly to accept the herbs, mumbling a rather dubious, "..Uh." Yep. He's probably not likely to do any of that, but at least he isn't outright making fun of it. For all he knows, the herb packets work. In any case, that gets stuffed in a bag, and the computercrafter flees the dusty caverns, for fresher air.

Rylavi grabs the robe out of the rejected pile and holds it up to herself as a test. It looks like a good fit against her silhouette, but given that she's layered her clothes to stave off the cold, it'll probably hang off her shoulders in a rather piteous manner. "That /might/ work, if I tied it really tight around the middle…" But even to her ears, she sounds doubtful.

Relion turns to inspect the 'fit', or lack thereof. "Yeah, that's pretty wide for you," Relion agrees, frowning at it, apparently also thinking it might be pretty pitiful. He glances at the pile he'd gone through already, but doesn't seem to remember anything too much smaller. He goes back to the trunk, pulling out the bottom one, and perking up. Oh! A good big one, though perhaps roomy in the middle, as the previous wearer was probably more overweight in that zone. Still, it's a robe, and Relion's more concerned about length. "Here we go, finally somethin' I can adapt without making a quilt," Relion says in relief, and moves aside from the garments, in case Rylavi wants to peruse.

Ah, well, if even Relion's going to frown at the robe, it's obviously not the right fit. Folding it up into a lazy shape that looks almost more like a ball of fabric, Rylavi drops it into the 'reject' pile and turns to appraise the fit of the next one her fellow candidate has found. "That might do," she observes, chewing on her lower lip in thought. "But I'd pray for no stray wind in the cavern that day, cause one stiff breeze and you'd have no secrets left." Dropping to one knee, she starts shifting through the pile herself, a frown growing ever deeper between her brows. "This is rubbish, why can't we wear trousers underneath? That would make /sense/, especially if you've got to dodge a hungry dragon."

"Tradition," Relion answers, with a noncommital tone either way. It just … is. He says nothing to if he feels it's a good idea, or not a good idea, or what. "Secrets in a weyr? I don't think I have any anyway, since anyone that was really curious could just be in the bathing cavern," Relion answers. "More concerned about gettin' kicked from the sands for not bein' proper," he smirks. "I bet after all the mendin' I've done I could narrow it. If I get any time," he adds, watching her sift through the pile, willing to pick up something better if she does end up finding something long enough.

Holding up her most recent find, Rylavi eyes it and Relion with narrowed gaze. "Maybe if you let out the shoulder seam … " She shrugs and tosses it his way. It's probably long enough to reach just below his knees, but the shoulders are awfully narrow. "Tradition's important and all, I get that." And she does. Finally she gives up and turns to sit with her back against the chest. "I guess that one's my best bet." She lifts the reject with one hand, not really seeming happy about it. "I wonder if anyone in the barracks knows sewing enough to make it not so wide."

Relion ends up accepting both the one she found, and the one he did. "Well, I'll test them both out, 'n return the one that looks worse," Relion decides, probably mostly said to himself. "Pora was really good at mending, I had the duty with her before." He doesn't go into his own skill level regarding it. "Still, I'd much rather try to fix one than make it out of scratch," Relion shrugs. He tosses his two robe finds to hang over his shoulder, and puts all their rejects away. Relion glances down at the kittens, and gets a meeeeew, as he stoops to pick up the robe Quila'd left to add to his pile, and then moves a bulky hand to the kitten pile. He isn't rough; exceptionally gentle with the little creatures; one of them NOMS a finger, to which the calloused skin is a blessing from needle baby-teeth.

"That works." Rylavi doesn't seem inclined to say anything else about the robes, since she's found about the only one worth holding onto in her case. "I'll ask her about it, then. I can't sew to save my life, 'cept maybe some stitches if a wound's gotta stay closed until I can get to a healer." She falls silent then, one hand running through her hair while she thinks. Relion's movement to scritch the cat catches her attention and she can't help the laughter that bursts out from her mouth when the kitten decides that his finger would taste nice. "Guess they like you, then. They won't bite anything that doesn't smell at least safe."

"Safe? Ehhhh. Yeah, I'm a big safe toy," Relion agrees with a deep, put-upon sigh, but then grins. He doesn't mind, and hasn't minded. He clearly likes the little animals; which is true, he was in beastcraft for a time, and it wasn't like he was strongarmed into it. He plays with the NOM kitten more, wriggling his fingers over it's belly and paws, no doubt baiting it for more playbites. "I'll fix this myself if I have to, but I'm not -too- concerned. We can wear belts, and it isn't for very long, from what I understand. I rather doubt the dragons pick us based on how our robes fit," Relion says, with a soft long laugh, quiet so as not to spook the kittens.

Rylavi snorts. "I didn't say kittens were always the /smartest/ of animals." Nevertheless, she watches him interact with the small balls of fur with a sharp eye and a general air of approval. "You like cats, then?" She nods once towards the clump of sleepy and playful kittens. A shrug meets his next words, a face too closed off to be wholly relaxed, but at least she's not /outwardly/ nervous. "I'm not convinced the whole thing isn't random chance, to be honest. You know, like with the firelizards. Everyone in the barracks is there because some dragon thought their brain fit the bill. Who's to say any one or other is more special than the rest?" She rubs a scuff mark off the side of her boot. "Luck of the draw, I say."

"I like most animals," Relion answers neutrally, brief smile is down at the kittens, not so much at Rylavi. He draws his hand back and stands again, looking from her to the cats, anticipating that she'll tend to them, make sure he didn't quietly strangle them or such: an expectation from prior experience that most people tend to think he'd be accidentally rough. Nah. "I can accept that a dragon can judge if one of us is more /prone/ to impress than another. But… so what if it is random?" A chuckle. "Same result, really. Maybe I'd rather it be random, anyway; I still think that dragon was off with what he saw, if he saw somethin'—-, and it's nice to think I have a shot," Relion adds, with a slight blush. "Standing and having a chance is better than no chance at all in the stands." A shrug. "Anyway, I need to get going. See you later, hm?"

And Rylavi can tell the difference between a smile aimed at her and one aimed at her animals; she's had enough practice. Her face pinches an a rather immature scowl and she waves him off dismissively. "Yeah, I'll be around." There's an edge of annoyance in her voice, but not so much more than usual. It's entirely possible that he won't notice the difference. "See ya." She very pointedly does /not/ check the kittens until after he leaves. Forces of habit can be delayed, if not entirely smothered.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License