Shaggy 'Do
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Xanadu Weyr - Observation Level
Dark blue seats form a semi-circle around the sands below, the lowest row separating from the sands themselves by merely a railing. The seats climb upwards, each row a bit higher then the previous, and they are broken up into sections by 3 sets of staircases. Lights are evenly spaced along the outer wall, lighting the seats and the sands easily, though they tend to be dimmed unless a major event is taking place. A large balcony looms overhead, darkening some of the seats, providing a place for observers of the draconic kind to watch without obstructing the view for others.
When one looks over the railing, the oddly hued sand below can be seen easily, the circle-shaped area of the sands spread out to the far walls, the sand itself a unique mixture of red and white grains.


With the turning of turns, the weather has shifted from blazingly hot to gradually cool. It's not cold by any means, but one can go outside without a sheen of sweat instantly moistening the skin. Ka'el's been busy since Turnover. The overly intoxicated rider has lead to problems that have needed ironing out, and he's had to show his new assistant the ropes, and make sure that Kiena's been settling ok. Not to mention his usual responsibilities and the influx of people due to the new Candidates. Yes, 'Busy' has been the theme of Turn 2699, and things don't seem to be slowing down! Things are the same when it comes to egg viewing. Everyone wants a peek, and it’s rare that the stands are ever completely empty unless it's late at night. It's not late at night right now. It's a bit after lunchtime and the autumn breeze borderlines between cool and warm. It's the start of a new hour, and like clockwork, a shaggy haired youngster is heading up the stairs. He's about thirteen or fourteen, wearing the knot of an apprentice messenger, and he's carrying a platter that he's carried very carefully from the caverns. One. Step. At. A. Time. Can't. Let. This. Fall. There's been one of these coming up here every hour on the hour until evening to check up on her for the past seven.

Those lumps in the sand continue to be eggs. Luraoth continues to guard them, though just now, she's claiming she's going to take a nap. This requires Soriana to be here - though the rest of the time, those messengers haven't always found her. The first time might have involved panic. By now, if they haven't figured it out, at least their dispatcher should have, and knows how to talk down the youngster who've discovered that Soriana is - gasp! - allowed to take breaks. At least when Luraoth allows her. Right now, she's required to be here for that nap… which also requires Luraoth's eyes to shut and stay that way. One of these things is currently true - Soriana's lounging on one of the benches, working through something to do with official candidate supervisory something or other. Partway down the page she pauses, looking out to the sands as Luraoth lifts her head and nudges at one of the eggs. Just to make sure it's okay. Which, of course, it is, but she had to make sure before she sleeps. Which she'll be doing any minute now, or so the golden dragon claims. And hasn't. Yet. Soriana sighs, letting her gaze rest on those sands. At this rate, Luraoth may yet nap. By midnight.

Young Shaggy has learned that the Junior Weyrwoman not being in the stands isn't always a bad thing. Whatever he brings sometimes ends up being given to him! So he's been treated with random snackfoods and cold drinks at times! But then other times, the things that he brings aren't of any use to him at all. Hand fans and books and puzzle games. Pft. What's he going to do with a book? Today though, he doesn't carry a novel to distract the mind. He has drinks in small ice-laden pitchers and a glass turned upside down. He's reached the last stair and exhales a breath. Safe! Almost. Now…is she here? He peers out from behind his curtain of chestnut hair. There's a random citizen here and there. Another random face. Then, he spots her! Still moving slowly, he makes his way towards her, doing his best to take the route that won't cause him to run into any bodies. Step. Step. Step. Do not..sneak a peek…at dragon and sandy eggs…while walking! "Miss Weyrwoman? I gots your drinks for th'hour. Ice cold, straight from th' Keepin' Things Cold Box." Totally the official term for the refrigeration unit, you see.

Doorstop? Paperweight? These and more are among the uses of books. But Shaggy the Younger's not a high-falutin' intellectual type like that. He uses rocks! As the Ancients intended. This trip, however, shall not be wasted by un-used fripperies, for lo! A Soriana is here, possessed of her paperwork but not possessed of a drink. Yet. She will be! Just as soon as she turns her gaze from sands to Boy With Drinks, which she does. Pretty sure it's a boy. Might be a young Yeti. But she's quite sure those are drinks. "So you do," she says, and indicates the spot on the bench next to her. The one with… oops, she'll just pick up that leftover tray from last time. And while she's at it, the paperwork doesn't need to be on it… probably shouldn't have, either. Well, there are worse things than stickybun icing to get on official papers, and now there's a clear spot for the new tray. "Thank you."

Maybe he's part Yeti? He sure has the head for it, though intellectually, he's a little above your common apelike beast. See? He's advanced enough to carry a tray without spilling a single thing! He's reached his destination and bends down to lower the tray once the old one is removed from its spot. There! Drinks delivered, unspilled and all. "I can take that, m'um," he says, reaching for that stickybun, sticky tray of stickiness. What? She didn't save a bun for him? So greedy! "No thanks needed, m'um," spoken as he straightens, tray in hand. And cue awkward silence. He doesn't make the customary motions that'd signal his eventual departure. No. He just stands there with that tray held down in front of him, eyes on her, letting the silence stretch on for seconds. He has a feeling he's forgetting something. And he should probably figure it out. So he's figuring in his head while his eyes stay on her. Thinking. Thinking. Oh yeah! "Is there summen' else I can get ya, m'um? Anythin' you want. Small, big. I'll get it."

Oh yeah. Shaggy's sure got a head for hair. Or maybe a head of hair, but prepositions… eh, they might be a little too complicated. Let's just stick with the fact that there's hair. Also stickybun residue! But not actual stickybuns, because… Soriana ate them. Okay, so a few of them might have gone to other causes, but none to the cause of Feeding Growing Sasquatches. She smiles for the thanks-unneeded bit - probably someone's been drilling him on that, for proper page duties - and hands over the tray. And… then… "Mmh?" she says, promptingly. And… oh! He's moved onto the advanced version of messengering: the one where he gathers data and then goes to solve problems! Where by solving problems we mean fetching and carrying things. It is sort of his area of expertise. Such as it is. Soriana takes a moment to pour herself a drink while she thinks. Sip. A glance to her paperwork, and that reminds her. Sure. "Can you get me a pair of file folders and an envelope?"

The messenger boy hears her request and takes a moment to … process it. File folders. Folders for files. He knows what folders are, sure! Many things are kept in folders. Paper-type things. Like files. He's seen folders being used in offices galore! But, those are regular types. File folders? Folders for files. He knows that papers are also kept in files. He needs to find a folder that can hold files, got it! .. Hmm. Okay, and files look like…what again? Soriana receives a salute that needs a lot of work before it can pass any sort of salute expectation, then hurries on down back to the exit of the observation level, platter in hand. He gets to the very first step that'll take him to freedom when he realizes something that causes him to pause on that staircase. Huh. Hm… He turns back around and scurries up to Soriana. "If I was lookin' for file folders 'n en-vel-opes,… where d'y'reckon I'd find'm?" Isn't it his job to know? They just don't make messengers the way they used to, do they?

Or are they folders for filing things? The salute… well. Each individual finger has a decent grasp on the general principles. It's just they've all picked different interpretations, and none of them bothered to convince the arm of their plan. Soriana has seen worse. Then again, she's also seen better. Far better. She returns the salute with a very casual one, which is still - call it turns of practice - better than the Junior Mop Brigade Leader's example. He scurries away, she lowers her gaze to the paperwork again, takes another sip of the drink before setting it down to reach for her pen. But wait! There's more. Even more more, or… maybe less. In terms of the skills of this Shiningly Shaggy Example of Xanadu Youth. Soriana arches an eyebrow at him. Hmm? "Well," she says, then pauses. Does she know where they are? Uh, they're in the thing by the place. With the cabinet. But that's not exactly helpful. "…how about you ask one of the other juniors?"

Oh! Brilliant! How about he ask someone of his own trade? Someone else surely will know where the mysterious folders for files may be! Or was that folders with files? Or files within folders.. Or…folders for filing? Somebody could definitely help him! "Yess'm," he says, nodding his head and doing absolutely nothing at all to keep his hair from his eyes. For the second time he turns to depart and makes it all the way back to that first downward step again, but then he stops. There's another thought that formulating in his youthful mind. Something that he forgot…which…he is now remembering. Oh yeah! Again, he turns around and heads back towards the Weyrwoman Junior, stopping a few short feet shy from her. And then…he continues to stand. He merely stands there. Stand, stand, stand. His brown eyes are on her, flitting from drink to face, drink to face. "I'm ta keep you company," he announces in a matter-of-fact way. Congratulations, Sori! You've won yourself some company! "Sooooo…" Come on, brain! Think of a relevant topic! Think. Think! "Is it true that if a dragon's stopped up…yuh know. Can't go numba two, their tails'll blow up? I heard that somewhere.." Obviously he didn't read that anywhere.

That's right! The Junior Shaggy Messenger can ask the Slightly Less Junior And Also Less Shaggy Messenger. It'll be great. And then they can go ask the Somewhat Less Junior But Also Somewhat Shaggy Messenger together. As an educational bonding experience. "Okay then," she says to his agreement. Now! Back to her paperwork. The candidates are to be given the following lessons at the following times, and they'll need to arrange for the specia- He's back. She can see him looming. His hair? Also looming. It's sort of like a small, shaggy cloud floating along and dragging a boy with it. She looks up again. "Yeeeeees?" she says, followed by, "Are you." The first of these is said like a question. The second… isn't. "I don't…" have a chance to finish that statement, because the Fluffy Cloud Of Hair (Now With Bonus Boy!) has a question for her. "…no," is the simple answer, and she really should stop there. But she doesn't. "But their guts might."

If only Ka'el knew what type of company he's been sending! Which, in fact, he might very well see since he's heading to the hot stands right now this very moment! Unfortunately, this happens only after the Shaggy Boy gets intrigued by the information provided by the Weyrwoman. Their guts? No way! Such grotesque input only is cause for more questions. Has she ever seen that happen with her own eyes? What did it look like? Do the dragons inside of the shells poop in their shells? Why does she think that the seats in the observation stands are blue? Why not red to match the sands? It's on the topic of seat color that Ka'el arrives. He's fresh from a meeting and thus looks very Weyrleader-esque, though he's already unbuttoning the buttons of his sleeve cuffs upon reading the heat. Yuck. He definitely doesn't miss this! Eyes sweep the sands before settling upon Soriana here in the stands. Oh, Sori and company! Shaggy Doo. He heads over their way. "Afternoon!" he calls.

More like Shaggy Doo-Doo, if one goes by some of his topics of interest. But no, Soriana explains, she hasn't. Because they're given purgatives. (And have explosive diarrhea as a result, usually, but she's smart enough to not mention that aloud. It's still too late, though.) Dragon-shell-pooping is… "Sort of." Which is to say, yes, toward the later part, but because they're not eating real food, it's not real poop either. Not that the candidates get this explained, uh, ever, given how many of them get licked by their new lifemate during impression. As for the seat colors? "Because otherwise, the dragons might get confused and lay eggs on the seats." Not actually true. At all. It's in fact a complete and utter lie. But Soriana's straight-faced. "Have you ever seen blue sand?" Because if she's not going to do work, she's at least going to have fun. So yes. That's what Ka'el walks in on, and she lifts her eyes to him without letting her serious and oh-so-truthful expression slip. "Hi." And then her eyes flick back to the Sampson of Curiosity.

The boy looks almost … disappointed that no dramatic thing happens after the dragons, stopped up as they are, are given a purgative. Nothing at all? Is she suuuuure? Soriana gets a quizzical look that may or may not be seen behind his curtain of hair, but lo. Before he can spit out his new onslaught of questions, Soriana answers one in such a way that he forgets he was on a mission to begin with! Eggs? on the seats? His eyes go wide while Ka'el, who has just walked in on this moments before, looks puzzled by all of what he hears. Uh..what? "I've never seen blue sand," reveals the messenger, bouncing a little on his feet eagerly. It makes perfect sense now that she's spelled it out for him! It'd be hazardous for seats to be the same color as the sands! He has so much more that he wants to know! But it's now that he notices Ka'el, and he shuts his yap and stands straight. Now, it's Ka'el's turn to ask question. "…Who's laying eggs on the seats?" he asks when he reaches that conversational range of distance, eying the nearby rows of seats for eggmess.

Oh, Soriana could arrange for Shaggy Mopster to find out what happens after that purgative. First-hand, with a mop and bucket! But… she won't. Because she's not that mean. Just mean enough that… she nods to the Youngest Wookie's answer about the blue sand. "See?" It's a safe color for observation seats! Because the dragons won't confuse it with nesting-spots. It makes perfect sense. Or… not. As Ka'el comes closer, a smile edges up onto Soriana's face. It's only partly for his confusion. "Nobody," she answers. This one is actually true! Unless of course some firelizard catches hold of those images and confuses don't with do. Firelizards are like that, sometimes. "That'd be taking stands impressions a bit far."

"Oh," replies Ka'el. Nobody is laying eggs on the seats? Uuummm…alright, all is well! He won't ask, though nothing's stopping him from eying the junior and messenger suspiciously. So much suspicion! The boy sweatdrops beneath the Weyrleader's scrutiny, but then realizes another thing. If Ka'el is here, then he himself needn't be! Company can consist of two people right? "On account'a me bein' done, I reckon.." says the messenger, not sounding quite sure at that part, "I should be goin'…?" Maybe? Maybe? Anyone? He takes a backwards step that's followed by another, all the while watching for signs that he should stay, But if there isn't, he'll make a break for it. Freedom! "Uh.." Ka'el says in his wake, moving closer now and glancing to that tray of drinks with a satisfied look. Mission Keep Soriana Comfortable is a go! "You've been getting it all then?" he assumes once he's near her, sinking to sit down as well.

Oh, the suspicion. Soriana is unruffled beneath it. She's had worse stares than this, and she's too amused to let a little thing like a suspicious Weyrleader get in the way. All is so very well. Yep. Whiiiich means that Shaggy gets the worst of it, but hey. Dealing with suspicious people is part of messenger training, right? If it's not, it should be. She can't stop a little quirk of her lips for his solidly-thought-through reason for leaving. "You do that," she confirms, and as he scampers away, she keeps a straight face for - come on, she can do this - yes! He's down the stairs and away, and so now she can laugh. And she does! Confusing Ka'el more, at least for a moment, but then she reaches an arm for him, still grinning. "Oh, yes. All the questions a young brain can muster. Were we ever that dumb?" But wait. That's not what he means. So okay, she'll answer that question too. "Most of it. I've been sneaking away when I can." She means when Luraoth lets her, and so there's a glance down to the sands. Oh hey! The gold's finally closed her eyes. For real this time, and Soriana's smile is fondly pleased as well as amused, watching Luraoth sleep for a moment before she continues. "…I don't know what he does then." She's not entirely sure she wants to know, and yet she's curious. She may speculate. She'll certainly spend some time talking with Ka'el, because while Shaggy is - his many growth opportunities aside - okay at bringing her drinks, snacks, and entertainments, Ka'el is far better at bringing her company. And she's stuck here while Luraoth naps, but she's going to make the best of it. With Ka'el.


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