Xanadu Weyr - Caverns

A massive cavern in its own right, this one has been skillfully adapted for human habitation. The high ceilings have been painted a light, soft ivory, as have walls hung with numerous tapestries that 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. The stone is carefully leveled 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 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. It's plain that on most days, this area wouldn't accommodate anywhere near the full population of the Weyr, instead feeding people in shifts as they come off duty. On occasions when a formal meal is laid out, tables are borrowed from all the other areas.

There's also a big fireplace set into the western wall, 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, the largest an archway to the northeast that leads outside. Near it there's an alcove with hooks for coats and shelves for muddy boots. A tunnel to the east goes to the infirmary, and a set of stairs just a little south of that lead up to the offices and administration area. To the south, a long and sloping tunnel leads down to the hot springs. The kitchen is off to the southwest, while the residents' quarters are reached by tunnels going west, deeper into the cliff.

It's evening, just long enough past the dinner hour that the caverns are mostly clear of people aside from the stragglers who didn't bother to eat at a standard hour — or maybe they just didn't have a dinner date. But whatever the reason, the space is clear enough that a large basket on the floor by one of the tables has gone mostly unnoticed. But it's there. And it's rocking. It's also making a variety of unearthly sounds which only seem to be growing in volume as it shudders. Is this some possessed firelizard springing forth from its egg? With a sound that's most aptly described as a shriek, the basket tips forward, and it's occupant BURSTS free from the wicker cage. (Or splats. It definitely splats.) There, laid out in all of its chubby, fluffy glory, is a really overweight cat. Mrrrrow?

given the very recent, very bloody firelizard clutching, Rhodelia isn't really looking to pick up another pet. Cinderbloock may be a fanstactic feline, but Rhodelia already has one of those, and several fireliards and a canine puppy. While the assistant may be getting her own dinner, she's distracted enough by that fat cat to give an eyeroll. Really?

"Where the fuck did you come from? You better stay out of my kitchen," Percival says as he drags feet over to the tables with a mug and a personal kettle though he doesn't stray far. A random fat cat just showing up is definitely a sight to behold. That mean's it's more efficient than his own firelizards. Perhaps he shouldn't have named his green Gristle and his bronze after a rotisserie avian. The butcher settles himself down, bloodshot eyes peering over to this absolutely majestic creature. Rhodelia is spotted and given a nod of the head in greeting before he takes a long sip from his mug. His amber eyes are busy taking in the sight of one brick house feline.

Waaaaaait a second. This cat may be one solid hunk of fat, but it still has functioning nostrils, and… sniff, sniff, sniiiiiiiff… there is definitely food somewhere around here. The tubby feline takes a few steps on legs that are barely visible beneath her heft, but doesn't make it more than a foot or two before the effort becomes too much and she flops over on the ground. But she still wants food, see, so the next obvious choice is to begin a plaintive cry for edibles. BRING HER THE FOODS, HUMANS. SHE IS STARVING. Meanwhile, Nessalyn makes a tardy entrance, freezing in her tracks when she hears the saddest sad cat in the whole world. "Who let that cat out?"

"It wasn't me," Rhodelia will go ahead and claim. Despite proximity to cat and her own tendency to accumulate pets, all of her's see to be a normal and weight and so Mr. Tubbers is on his own. "It wasn't me." Rhody will claim as she loads up her own plate with tubers and wherry. The feline or perhaps Percival is givenan eyeroll. "Since when has saying something actually keep something out of your kitchen?" Especially with cats.

"Definitely wasn't me," Percival says as he takes another drink. Fortunately for him, there's no one looking for a strong pot at this hour, so the butcher takes advantage. "And truthfully, everyone's in the kitchen more often than they are a brothel. Surely there's cleaner places to get sea food these days but no, everyone wants in the kitchen. Don't think this majestic creature could make it onto one of the countertops so it couldn't be the pudgy one there." All motioned carefully with a hot mug.

"There are cleaner places to get food than the kitchens?" is Nessalyn's takeaway from that, the words accompanied by a grimace. "Well, that's horrifying, thanks." The goldriders gaze slides between Percival and Rhody, faintly suspicious of them both, because surely someone let that cat out. Meanwhile, Fatty McFatterson continues to cry plaintively from the floor, because NO ONE IS FEEDING HER. HELLO. THERE IS A CAT HERE. A CAT WHO IS IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS BECAUSE OF HER SIGNIFICANT GIRTH AND VOLUME.

rhodelia eyes the cat with suspicion. As fat as her own cat and canine might be, the assistant still makes a bee line around the really fat cat. straight for the klah, s any reasonable person would. "The beastcrafters should see this one." Either to win an award for fatness or for dealing with said fatness. Either way, rhodelia is out

Percival doesn't respond to Nessalyn's question, he only tilts his head towards her and offers the weyrwoman a crooked smile and a shrug while bringing that mug to his lips. LOOK AT HER SIMPLY WASTING AWAY. DID YOU SEE THAT? IT'S A SECOND THAT PASSES, AND ANOTHER ONE. YOU MEAN AND HORRIBLE HOOMINS LETTING THAT TIME GO BY UNFED. "The kitchens are meticulously kept and constantly inspected by the Headwoman, I assure you. I'm only kidding." Maybe.

"You let V'ayn in the kitchens, there's no way of knowing what's in there," Nessalyn declares with a hefty dose of sarcasm laced with affection. He hasn't poisoned her, so she doesn't really have any complaints. "Aren't you going to feed the cat?" This is asked with an arched, all-knowing brow, as she's not the candidate here. But Rhody has a good point even if she's peacing out, and Ness moves a bit closer to Her Fatness to inspect the oversized feline. "I'm pretty sure the only way to turn that off is via her mouth." Those cries somehow become more pathetic as a person moves into her vicinity. SHE IS DYING. FUDS ARE THE ONLY SALVATION.

"Hey now, we might both come from the same craft hall, but Baking is a different path of study. I'm a butcher and you don't want just anyone handling the weyr's meat. That's a heavy job and only I can do it with a straight face. Sometimes." Beam. "With him, you gotta watch out for the cream filling. Might be sugary, might be minty, might be a healthy serving of someone's dying dreams. There's no telling." Percival puts his mug down, then collects the pitcher to give himself a refill. Only when he's done pouring does he glance down at the poor withering feline. "Aw, you don't talk to her that way, she's a lady."

Nessalyn arches a brow so high it threatens to go flying right off of her forehead. "Did you become a butcher just so you could talk to people about handling their meat? Because if so… not bad." The goldrider smirks, adding, "He usually warns me about any unpleasant surprises." The perks of being friends. She eyes the faintly cat-shaped lump on the floor as the creature's eyes practically roll back in her head trying to twist around to look at this nearby hoomin who might be her savior. But no, Ness is holding firm, and points a finger in Percival's direction to try to redirect that attention. (It's not working.) "I'm sure she's a charming lady, but I've already got one, and a firelizard, and a very large dragon who will make me keep her if she sees this thing. So this is on you."

If it does manage to take flight off of her forehead, she can be glad to know that the feline isn't nimble enough to leap that high to EAT IT. Percival rolls his eyes and offers Nessalyn a smirk while he reclines in his seat. "Of course! Can't let a good opportunity like that go by." At the assignment of ownership, Percival narrows those amber eyes and he sips loudly out of his mug. "Do you want to have furr in your sausage? That's how you get furr in your sausage. And steaks. And stews. I've already got two firelizards and they're more managable in a barracks environment. I'm not sure how the Weyrlingstaff feel on anything non-Leirith assigned. She is cute, though, in a pathetic sort of way. We have that in common." Sorry, kitty. There's no potpie over here, either.

Yes, this is strictly a ground-range, one foot radius sort of hunter who's yowling her head off in here. And showing no signs of stopping. Nessalyn's face scrunches up as she puts one hand over the ear closest to said feline. She mutters something unkindly under her breath which is thankfully drowned out by the sounds. "A little fur never killed anyone," she declares, although there's a faint look of disgust in the downward twist of her lips. "I'm sure I could make it Leirith-assigned. In fact…" That excited glint to her eyes should provoke a sense of danger. "I think this cat will need a lot of attention to get her back into shape." MRRRROOOWWWWWWW. She needs a lot of attention right now that no one is giving to her. A token effort is made to roll back up onto her feet so she can find that potpie that Percival is definitely hiding, but… no. TOO HARD.

"Make it Leirith-assigned?" Perhaps it was said a little too suspiciously… Percival's evening grin quickly turns into a worried scowl and the Candidate is twisting in his seat, just waiting and watching for any signs of people running in with the news. His hands are off of his mug, in case she declares into his poor tired brain directly. The last thing the man needs is his precious klah spilled. The feline is given a sour look, and a frown… that slowly melts into a smile. "Alright. Alright, I'll take in this poor, sweet, unsuspecting furbaby. She's in fine hands, what could possibly go wrong?" See, Nessalyn? The edges of his tired eyes might be twitching a little and maybe there's more teeth in that smile than usual, but it's an effort… right?

Nessalyn doesn't actually whistle innocently, but she might as well be. She doesn't even attempt to make the feigned expression look remotely real. Tineangrath isn't about to use Leirith to blackmail the candidates — it wouldn't be right! — and so Nessalyn's threats are little more than hot air until she can make direct contact. Still, they're effective hot air, and she smirks proudly as Percival relents. "That's it. I'm sure she's a perfect darling." Aside from the pathetic yowling. With a grunt of effort, Ness scoops up the tubby princess and carries her over to be deposited on the seat next to the butcher. "And don't worry, I'll make sure you get some help with her." Why does that sound faintly menacing?

All that yowling? Who know who is tired of that shit? Gristle is tired of that noise so the green flutters into the room and practically throws herself at the back of the chair the giant grey fluffy princess is blobbing. The firelizard drops her prize of a roasted fish onto the chair in homage to the noise maker and then she sidesteps closer to the butcher, chittering her displeasure. The noise is making people look at their plates, SHE CAN'T ACQUIRE MORSELS THAT WAY. Percival narrows his gaze at Nessalyn at the mention of 'help' and he grumbles before taking another sip from his mug. Kitchen staff is not gonna be happy with it's new employee…

Maybe Percival won't need to do much at all, because Gristle just became the Stay Puft Marshmallow Cat's new bff. The pathetic crying turns to the sounds of delighted (and sloppy) nom nom noming as that fish falls into her nonexistent lap. She's not a quiet eater, this one. "Oh, and something to help her exercise will be delivered to the barracks in a few days." See, she's helping. Sort of. With Ms. Piggy sorted, Nessalyn dusts her hands off and flashes Percival a smile that almost seems sincere. "Well, now that you two are together, I think I'll take my things and get out of here." And with that pronouncement, the goldrider scoops up the abandoned cat-basket and makes her exit. NO TAKE-BACKS.

She took the basket, why would anyone take the basket that cat was in without even worrying about what came with it? It's because SHE PLANTED THE CAT IN THE FIRST PLACE. IT WAS HER NEFARIOUS PLAN ALL ALONG and he played right into it like a sucker. Percival takes a deep breath and holds it as he watches Nessalyn make her departure and he slowly exhales it. Not that anyone could hear over the loud eating of that feline. "Now what am I going to call you?" he grumbles as he leans over and gives in, patting the tubby feline. The butcher even goes so far as to scratch behind the ears. Oh well, he has some serious preparations to make.

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