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.
Breakfast is a thing that must be done. This is FACTS unless you're one of those weird people that seems to object to good things in life like BACON and CHEESE. Unfortunately in the busy life of weyrlings, grabbing said breakfast is pretty hard unless one happens to get up well before any sane hour to do all those necessary tasks of feeding growing lifemates and having them run around enough to pass out already for an early morning nap. C'con has picked a few unfortunate souls for some early morning lessons, but at least the location this time is in the Caverns which means klah and hopefully food as Rhody yawns on in, hair in the messiest of messy buns. The weyrlingmaster is nowhere in sight, but an assistant headwoman certainly is and beckons the weyrling over to the far side of the caverns where many things have been set out to be set up. There is a very polite explanation that Rhodelia misses most of in her sleepy haze before she's left staring at all those many items. "We're supposed to set it? But I was just hoping for some klah…"
F'yr was probably picked for this lesson because of the timing of Glorioth's most recent crash. He had to be roused from his cot about half-way through what's slowly, slowly becoming a typical 'crash' length for the bronze who still conforms to no known sleep schedule. But these things must be important to interrupt much-needed sleep. Or maybe F'yr's name just happened to be on the list and whoever woke him hadn't had their klah yet for the day and didn't think to let him sleep on. Either way he's in the caverns… but not where he's supposed to be. How the assistant missed him (or maybe she didn't, maybe she was just feeling kind) is anyone's guess because he's returning from the food buffet with three breaded pockets that might just contain the glories that are BACON and CHEESE and a mug of klah. He arrives just in time behind Rhody to hear some of the explanation and then to take a hurried gulp of his klah before pressing the mug into Rhodelia's hand. He even tries to give her one of his three breaded pockets as his eyes stray to the items on the table. "Why are we supposed to set it?" He mutters to his fellow weyrling, eying some of the more unusual items warily. What is that tiny fork even for? Who has a mouth that small?
Rhodelia gets a measily single gulp of klah before that mug is CONFISCATED by the assistant with some stern eyes towards the table. "Eat once you've SET IT." F'yr's bread pockets are also eyed but the woman might value her hands too much to try and snag those from a hungry, massive weyrling. Rhody sighs as she faces her future (mostly the table). "I knew there'd be these type of lessons eventually, but I didn't think they'd be so sharding early." She grabs a chair and slips in, poking those tiny forks and picking up a teeny tiny cup that looks like it could only fit an egg. "We set it so we can eat?" She holds up the cup to F'yr but since it doesn't look like it would actually fit one of his sandwiches she sets it back down just as quickly.
The hungry, massive weyrling is, obviously, completely oblivious to the fact that he's narrowly avoided food confiscation. F'yr frowns and opens his mouth as though to say something that takes real intelligence (after all, he did get a gulp of klah, too) but he closes it on one of his bread pockets instead. He is going to willfully ignore the word 'after.' The assistant gets another glance, and then he looks to Rhodelia, some unpleasant emotion tightening his jaw. Maybe he's growing with his dragon after all because the unabashed, "Well, this is dumb," that's said plenty loudly enough for everyone to understand the bronze weyrling's position on the matter, and he's going to move to that table and pick back up his mug of klah to drink while he sets about trying to organize things. "I suppose one of everything at each place?" Surely he saw a diagram somewhere about this sort of thing, but obviously he's not in the best frame of mind to remember said drawing.
Rhodelia's emotions are mostly focused on want. The want of the klah that's way over there and will probably be cold by the time she figures out where each of the three different type of bowls and plates might go. Right now it's just a saucer and fancy cup in one hand and bowl in the other as she sets them down and then picks them back up to switch their places. "Dumb or cruel?" Does the charter have anything against unusual punishments? She's also pretty sure she hasn't done anything to deserve such a fate recently. "Everything at each place, sure, but where is the problem? I think in order of size probably. Left to right?" She shrugs. "I know where the wine glasses go but apparently that's not a part of breakfast settings…" And then a lower mutter for F'yr's ears only… "This is why I never scheduled breakfast meetings." Among many other reasons.
F'yr, who is so usually consistently pleasant is flatly unconcerned about being pleasant right now. "Under what circumstances would we ever be asked to be the ones setting up a table for an important event with too little sleep, on empty stomachs and no klah? I might not look that sharp," and he doesn't; he wasn't awake when they woke him (obviously) and he rolled out of bed and came here and it shows in the rumples of his clothing and the wild disheveled look of his too-long-in-need-of-a-cut hair, "but this doesn't make sense." So… cruel would be F'yr's response. He's not making a secret of his remarks, though neither is he shouting them for the world to hear (thankfully Glorioth hasn't rubbed off that much on him). He sips the klah reclaimed from a nearby table and looks at the items without touching anything now. Despite his earlier supposition, it looks like he might well be about to balk from doing any of the current lesson with their current minder.
"Under plague, but clearly not famine," Rhody settles that saucer and bowl combo back down before giving a shrug as if she COULDN'T CARE if the result is right or not. The assistant still hasn't given up watching, but she's doing so from a far and so Rhodelia risks a bit of a whisper. "I hear she even tried to convince the nursery to set up proper tea service the one time she visited her kid. Her sister's kid? Someone's kid." The young and way too serious current task master doesn't seem like a particular maternal type. Rhody grabs yet another plate and a glowbasket goes off. "Oooooh… I think this one is for toast. Or uhhh… butter? It goes here. With a knife."
F'yr takes a steadying breath, looking at Rhodelia and then over at the assistant. Then sighs gustily. "I'm sorry, Rhody," it's just loud enough. It's apologetic. It sells the lie. "I didn't realize he'd wake so soon or wake Ina when he did." He glances meaningfully toward the cavern doors. "I wouldn't want them to get into trouble without us." Trouble with them is a totally different story. Sorry not sorry, Rhody, F'yr is ditching this lesson and he's going to try to take you with him. "Better grab some food along the way. Who knows how long they'll keep us busy for this time?" The dragons are getting to be the age where this excuse won't hold, but aren't quite there just yet. And since they are the proud owners of the dragons who invaded these very caverns, maybe the world will go on believing that their presence in waking hours is necessary just a little longer than more placid and pliant dragons (ahahaha).
Rhodelia might be slow before the klah kicks in, but she's not that slow. The ridiculous little plates clatter a bit as Rhody rushes to stand up. "Ohhh… OOOOOOHHHHH." Now she's right there with F'yr as she follows step in step. "I think we'll need to have this lesson later. And maybe outside. Wouldn't want Ina to try and crash through the door. Again." That part is said very loudly towards the assistant who is puzzling out just what to do even as Rhody is grabbing F'yr's elbow and heading towards the door. "Forget the food. There's klah and meatrolls in the barracks." It might be cold, but it's there and no silly little plates required!
"But-!" BACON. CHEESE. RHODY, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE IMPORTANT THINGS IN LIFE? At least F'yr still has 2 of the bread pockets in his hand and he swallows down more of the klah before adding insult to injury by abandoning the mug on the nearest table as he is led by the other former assistant. He gives a convincingly apologetic look to the assistant headwoman, before briskly trotting his way toward the door to hold it open for Rhody that they may make their immediate, illicit escape. GOGOGO!
Xanadu Weyr - Main Clearing
A wide clearing stretches from east to west, the ground packed hard although grass grows across most of it. Trees are strictly forbidden in this space, their danger to the constant draconic traffic reason enough to banish them to the forest that creates a border to the north. Where the ground is less trampled, tiny flowers poke their delicate heads out from their shaded hiding places with upturned petals to wave to whoever may be looking.
The cliff looms imposingly on two sides. Toward the southwest, a spire stretches up to high above where the everpresent watchdragon sits on a lonely peak with Xanadu's Starstones. A massive rocky spur extends to the north, curved slightly to hold the clearing and pocked with doors and windows.
The hatching arena and Dragonhealers' Annex sit to the southeast, built together into a single complex that takes up a large portion of the perimeter beneath its domed roof. To the southwest, wide steps lead up to the caverns, and almost directly south is the entrance to the Infirmary. Nestled between the infirmary and the main caverns there's a human-sized archway with frequent traffic - it leads to the Wanderin' Wherry Tavern.
Tucked near the arch, just off to one side is a tiny wood-frame shop bearing the name 'Wildflower Boutique'. Windows have been cut along the cliff in various places along the cliff. Those of the administrative offices are placed to have the best view of Xanadu's airspace - to the southwest, over the entrance to the caverns and the infirmary. Others mark the dormitories and those of lucky residents, while toward the northern edge of that spur cluster the windows and entrances to the crafters' complex.
The rest of the Weyr lies to the north and east - a broad road that leads through the meadow and the trees of the forest beyond. At the far northern edge of the clearing, just inside the perimeter kept clear of trees, a clocktower sits and proudly displays the hour.
Rhodelia is a heathen, it's true. But non-cheese food she can have now is better than bacon and cheese food that is only accessible through a fancy place setting gauntlet. "At least that's another reason to try and convince them not to come into the caverns besides not really fitting any more?" Never mind that at least one of the dragons might think it would be a CHALLENGE he could SLAUGHTER HIS WAY THROUGH. She's not even going to notice that mug being set down as she is busy FLEEING, only taking a deep breath once she's in the clearing and the door is firmly shut behind them. Safe, right?
"Glorioth is sure you're wrong about that." F'yr laughs in a way that suggests crying even though he's not actually leaking any moisture from his eyes in this moment. "He's not actually awake," which presents something of a problem for him. "They did wake me to come to this thing," this stupid thing that he feels no remorse in fleeing, obviously. "Should we go back? Should we tuck up somewhere for a little bit?" And then a sigh, "I should've kept the klah." A pause. "Maybe we could sneak into the barracks? Or hey there's that spot for klah and snacks in the craft complex." He gives the woman a glowing smile like he just did a good thing and knows it. He gives her a smile that's half charm and half mischief and all trouble. "Craft complex?" He invites.
"Craft complex, snag snacks, then clock tower?" Rhodelia shares in that complete lack of remorse as she stretches out her arms. All that running away from possibly angry headwomen is hard work. "Been a while since I've been up there and should at least give us a good view in case there happens to be any wandering dragonets we would need to chase down?" While still not being too close to anybody who might notice they're not at a lesson they should still be in. She might look like she's still half asleep, but at least her brain is mostly working.
"Sounds like a plan." A plan that could go horribly awry, but then, it is a plan co-authored by the comedy duo of RhodyFyr… Fyrdelia? LISTEN, the important part is that they hatch bad plans together, and never learn. This plan goes relatively according to plan. So, sure, they had to hide behind one of the bits of wall while one of the Harpers was on a break and getting food and would've drawn F'yr into some kind of (probably lengthy) discussion had they been spotted, and there was that moment they had to duck former candidates (current candidates? People who knew them anyway), but they managed to secure enough snacks and klah to satisfy, and even a couple of the throw blankets from the cozy sitting area, and ghost across to the clock tower.
Xanadu Weyr - Clock Tower
The walls of the tower are the same dark gray stones that make up the outside of the tower. The central portion of the structure is open, so that one may stand in the center of the structure and see the top. Well…almost the top. A ceiling cuts off the view to whatever it is that's at the very top of the tower. Very little light comes in, just tiny beams of light from the arrow-slits in the walls. The floor is of dark hardwood slats, thin enough to have been worked easily but thick enough to provide protection from insects and wildlife that might be trying to get in.
A wooden staircase is built along wall, one that spirals up and up around the inner wall of the structure. It leads a workshop, where along every wall there are…clocks, of course! Clocks of just about every configuration one could think of, and quite a few that are outlandish enough to escape one's consideration at first. While most of these clocks are working, there are more than a few of them that aren't. The gentle ticking sounds fill the space, the clocks almost always perfectly in sync with each other — and with the ticking from the movement of the big clock above — and the sounds mingling together to form an ordered cacophony of sounds.
Clock parts are strewn across a table in one corner. There are a couple of cabinets with parts in them like the ones downstairs — parts that are significantly smaller than those on the first floor. These are obviously for the smaller clocks that are built here. There are no less than two large grandfather clocks in this workshop, both working.
A thick support threads through a large hole in the center of the floor, extending from below to above. A chain hangs beside it too, anchored high above, and the spiral staircase continues up, past a door on the outside and on to more storage space, dedicated to piles of crates with springs and "little" parts for the clocktower's main movement. Of course, the word "little" may not be the best way to describe it; some of these springs and levers are longer than a man's arm. And some of the gears in these crates a man could actually put his arm through the middle of easily.
F'yr immediately offers his arm for Rhody to tuck under once they are settled on the balcony because it is sharding cold. The blankets are situated one for shared lap and one around backs if they're content to sit in close proximity. If anything's going to give them away, it's the steam from their klah wafting up into the air, but this could be anyone, and they'll have to drink it fast if they want it warm.
If Inasyth was awake, the young gold would have probably offered some sort of dramatic sneaking music (that would be too loud to ever allow ANYBODY the possibility of sneaking) and a stream of champagne bubbles leading the way up to the clock tower. Luckily for the wayward weyrlings, she's still blissfully conked out, probably drooling a little bit as she dreams of fluffy ovines to either eat or cuddle or both. With a sigh of exhaustion, Rhodelia will nestle down into that blanket nest, wrapping hands around the giant mug of klah she managed to acquire (spoiler alert: It's actually a bowl). "Being still is nice. Sometimes I forget what still feels like. And thanks." FOR THE LIES, F'yr.
"Well, you know, Glorioth's not the only hero on this team." F'yr manages to say it all with his deadpan. But then it cracks and he's laughing. It doesn't hurt him now that the ribs are healed and his smile is a broad and bright thing when the laughter ebbs as it shortly does. "I don't really remember either. Glorioth doesn't do still. I'm not sure how I'm going to manage the more formal lessons. I'm getting better with him but…" Some things are just going to be more challenging than others. He squeezes her shoulder even as most of his attention is on the still on the bread pocket, now cold but still bacon and cheese inside, so… compromises. "How are you doing with everything? It always feels, whenever I talk to anyone, that I haven't really talked to them in… days, weeks, months. What turn is it anyway?" He gives her a sidelong grin for that before taking his next bite.
Perils of offering one's shoulder as a blanket-nest pillow means it's all too easy for Rhodelia's elbow to nudge thankfully healed ribs at the joke. Her elbows might be pokey, but she is gentle with her nudging, snickering a little bit even. "Glad to find out you think you're a hero now. Wouldn't want Glorioth to think you need more ENCOURAGEMENT!" The clock tower is secluded enough that she's not even bothering keeping her voice down or maybe whispering is a skill mostly forgotten after months with always yelling dragons. "When the actual formal lessons happen… should be about spring, right? And at some point the dragons will be big enough to ride. Maybe you'll just ride Glorioth around the edge of the training grounds while Ila'den yells out the lessons." That's not ridiculous at all, right? As for how she's doing, Rhody just shrugs. "I guess I'm alright? But I think this is supposedly the easy part. For me at least? Inasyth loves everything so she's easy. Or easier. But life isn't always going to just be about feeding a growing dragon and distracting her from getting hurt…" And while talking about her dragon brings a smile to the woman's face, the thoughts about growing up and problems that will come with that have the smile fading just as quickly as it arrived.
"Shh!" F'yr gives Rhody a faux look of horror. "I think he'll hear you. Everyone knows he's the hero." But that doesn't stop F'yr's lips from curling up at the edges in a smirky smile that really can't help but broaden and become more real because even if he can laugh about his ridiculous lifemate, he also really loves him. "Not sure. I think we got some kind of schedule about things, but I also think I filed it in my press," and that puppy eyed look at her means it's lost and it's probably her fault in a roundabout kind of way. He doesn't blame her too long for his own filing fails though, going back to paying attention to his food. "I'm glad Inasyth loves everything. I hope being around her will help Glorioth find an easier way of dealing with everything he doesn't love than beating it into the ground." If only it weren't literal. But. There have been times. "At some point, people keep telling me," and he does not believe them one bit, "that they start to be able to distract themselves, keep themselves alive." He almost doesn't ask, doesn't push, but then he does, quietly asking, "What worries you most? About all that that's coming?"
"Sorry, sidekick TO the hero," Rhodelia corrects herself. It's kind of like assistant to the regional manager, but for DARING DEEDS OF HEROIC FEATS and things. "Maybe it's on one of those sheets plastered around the barracks." There are a few notes and things that were important enough to post but not important enough for her to actually remember what they are. "I'm pretty sure filing won't be one of the lessons. And at least Inasyth will always outweigh him and if there's something she feels really doesn't need to beat to the ground, she has no problem taking it under her wing." Also quite literally. Hopefully whatever it is can stand a little bit of squishing from dragon hugs. Talking about feelings is hard, and Rhody shrugs again, staring into her klah mug for a moment before finally offering an answer. "Everything? The possibility that I'll let everybody down? I couldn't even make it as an apprentice and was only a halfway decent bartender on a good day."
F'yr flashes an appreciative smile for Rhodelia's correction. It's accurate, after all. "I'm pretty sure filing will be one of the lessons, eventually. Though who they'll find to teach it…" He whistles low, like it's an impossible feat. "But how can they expect any of us to end up in Quasar without sufficient ability to file?" The posted papers get a pursed lip consideration, but apparently he doesn't know what's on them either, go figure. It's not like he hasn't had plenty of downtime or anything. "Oh, I remember Inasyth's ability to take something off limits for beating under her wing," that's wry because he was one such item. "Effective as far as it goes." Does it save those objects from just being beaten later? Maybe not, but no one tell Ina lest F'yr end up permanently in her wallow like a baby bird. He probably wouldn't survived smothering with love any more than he would being beaten with encouragement. "That's a scary possibility," the big blond allows carefully, validating those hard feelings that are hard to talk about. "Maybe you didn't make a good apprentice or bartender," he doesn't say 'or assistant' because he's LOYAL, OKAY? "because those were only parts of your journey to get here to what you're really supposed to be." It's quiet, but offered in a way that suggests he believes it. "I mean, Inasyth couldn't have come to anyone but you. You belong together." And therefore: "You'll learn together. We'll all fail more than once in learning all this, but we'll all succeed too. We have to." Is there any other option?
Rhodelia has a very dismissive hand wave for the potential filing tutor conundrum. "Everybody can figure it out. Or just pile everything on a desk and call it a day. It wouldn't be the worst filing Quasar has ever seen." She's probably also done some of the worst filing on an especially hectic day in the past. She has a grin to match F'yr's about Inasyth's protective wings. "Even more effective considering those wings seem to grow an extra foot every other night." That might not even be hyperbole as Rhody has lost count of how many gallons of oil they've gone through by this point. And big wings also come with a big rest of her. Inasyth could literally smother someone with her love (to her own horror). Rhodelia's eyebrow quirks up as F'yr's response isn't exactly comforting. "I was only an apprentice because my father wanted me to be one. I at least want to be what Inasyth needs more than I ever wanted to be a vintner. Or bartender. But there's also more problems that happen with failure." She should know. She caused some of those problems in the past.
"It sounds like you're going to be fine. Like you are fine. I mean," F'yr starts to dig himself one mighty fine hole there, but he's smart enough today to shove the rest of the bread pocket in his mouth and chew determinedly instead. "Listen, I… don't want to say your fears are silly," BUT THEY'RE SILLY, OKAY? Look at him dig. He reaches for his klah, though he's cautious about not dislodging Rhody's head if it's even still on his shoulder after all of that. He tries a third time. "I think you're going to do really well. And if something happens that isn't quite so well, I'm here to help. Or listen. Or apparently say terrible things that don't help anything." So at least he's self-aware about the problem and willing to joke about it. So there's that.
Cereal might not be as effective for smugly watching folks dig their own hole, but that's what Rhodelia somehow pulls out of a pocket and noms on. The lint just adds some flavor. "I mean… I'll probably do alright." She shrugs. If someone shrugs enough, can that totally count as weyrling exercises for the day 'cause Rhody would certainly try. "But I'm used to always having an option to just…. run away if things got too bad. But I can't really do that any more. It'd be really hard to hide Inasyth anywhere." She might be small NOW but it doesn't take a dragonhealer to eye those massive baby dragon paws and realize she's going to take right after her momma in the big even for a gold department. "It could always be worse though, right? I mean… you at least did survive all your initial Encouragements." Beneath that joke, there is some real feels. Deep down inside.
"Running away does solve problems sometimes," F'yr is unhelpfully in Rhody's corner on this one. But then, he did run from the problems on the farm. Or did he run to the Weyr? Those matters of perspective are always tricky to pin down. "But not always. You could run with Inasyth, but-" There's a little hiccup of breath there. "I'd rather you didn't." It's understated in the extreme which might mean something or nothing. Who can say with big dumb blonds? "Your choices would be more limited anyway. And no where's as fun as here. Besides. You already know Xanadu's filing system." He gets that extreme deadpan he's been known to do so well back there at the end, giving Rhodelia his most serious face. His expression softens a little when he takes his turn with these demanding shrugging exercises. "I'm fine. He's bigger and brawnier than any of my brothers, but not much rougher." Except in that Glorioth is a dragon with a dragon's strength and baby's carelessness (that frankly he will never grow out of, OH WELL). "I know it doesn't look like love to a lot of you." Rhodelia might not be the only one worried about the bronze's treatment of his lifemate, "But he doesn't mean to break me," and technically, since the first time, he hasn't, even if F'yr does make semi-regular trips to the infirmary to get checked just in case that last bump, bash or bruise is more serious than it seems. "And he does love me. He just isn't… gentle. It's not in him to be that way." It doesn't bother F'yr.
"Or at least hides them for a while," Rhodelia is under no pretenses that she's actually SOLVED all her problems by running away, but she did at least put enough distance between her and her family that she hasn't had to think of them all too often. Maybe it will come back to bite her in the butt some day (almost certainly), but that day is not today! There's a very decisive headshake at the suggestion for running away with Inasyth. "That would only work for like… a turn at most. Considering how much attention she's already been giving Leirith's eggs, I can't see her not wanting the absolute best for her own." Which means Hatching Sands which means a Weyr. There is a smirk for F'yr's serious deadpan face. "True. I invented it after all. At least… the latest one anyways. Could you imagine how much trouble we'd get in if anybody could figure out exactly where things belong?" Rhody nods along as F'yr attempts to explain the unexplainable in his lifemate. "I guess you do have a thicker head than most, so shouldn't worry about you being able to take all that loving? Or is calling it loving too EFFEMINANTE to be acceptable?" And that's not your imagination, that is definitely Rhody doing her best to do a Glorioth impression without actually yelling, so impossible.
"Far too." Effeminate. "It's encouragement, Rhodelia," F'yr uses his most pretentious teacher's voice, maybe something developed while he assisted the harpers with the classes for the youth of the Weyr. "What I really want to know is… how many of the dirty playing cards have Risa and R'hyn found since we started weyrlinghood and what comeuppance will be." There's a grin that goes beyond mischievous to downright wicked for that. Who knew F'yr could pull off that look? It's rakish and charming and not very F'yr at all, only it is F'yr making it, so maybe there are hidden depths to this bronzerider, or newly emerging ones. "I put all of them in files, you know." Every. Last. One. He sighs wistfully. "I miss going into the office. Maybe when our dragons are a little older, we can just show up one morning." He gives a glance the direction of the Temple of Papers. "I'm sure Ina's going to make a wonderful mother when the time comes. Just remember that our hatching sands are the best ones." In case Rhody might still be thinking about the possibility of running. Nevermind that F'yr has never seen any other hatching sands. "Do you think they'll let us go to watch Leirith's eggs hatch?"
Rhodelia raises an eyebrow at F'yr's pretentious voice but quickly lowers it with a snort. "I'm guessing zero cause Nessalyn may have had to do her own filing and burned it all." See, almost non-existent filing system is more effective than turn-everything-into-ashes filing systems. Her head cocks to the side curiously as F'yr's wicked grin comes out. "All of them? Shards, I guess Ru'ien's gonna be disappointed if some of his favorites actually did get burned in the great filing disaster of 2723." If it hasn't happened yet, it will. This is Xanadu, disasters always come with time. Rhodelia exercises those shrugging muscles once more regarding future of eggs. "They have to have something figured out. With four golds, there's usually overlapping weyrling classes and I'd like to see someone TRY to keep Inasyth away from hatching eggs. She's already managed to wiggle her way onto the sands to watch them with Leirith a time or two." Luckily, the senior gold isn't the overly protective sort and seemed to welcome the youthful and exuberant incursion.
"Definitely not none," F'yr can confirm this much cryptically, but there's a grin, so it can't have gone that poorly, whatever the confirmation was. "If Nessa does burn everything, it'll be a waste. Maybe tell her to not if you think she'll listen, next time you see her." The bronzerider may voicing entirely wishful nonsense, but it's a hope, a dream, and he's not letting go of it. "I think Ru'ien will live," is a little dry. "If the worst should come to pass." He makes an appropriately mournful expression before grinning at Rhodelia again. "Do you think we could start passing them notes?" Them: Risa and R'hyn. "'Day 1,263 of our captivity in the weyrling enclosure. To date, we are chained by our love, but we're tempting the bonds by requiring tasks of our jailers.'" He takes another long sip of his klah that is all too contemplative to be comforting that this is an idea that he's going to drop. "I wish Glori wanted to see the eggs. I don't dare take him near them. What if he decided they needed encouragement to hatch? I mean, I've found lots of ways to motivate him to do other things… none particularly useful yet, but I'll get there." He hopes, he dreams, still. "I'm glad Leirith was welcoming to Ina. I bet that was a good moment for her," and he's the kind of friend who can celebrate other friends' good moments, even if his dragon is not.
"Ohhhhhh?" Rhodelia's eyebrows are multi-talented. You've seen them raise, but they can also waggle as she tries to instigate more details out of her fellow former assistant. SHE NEEDS THE GOSSIP ABOUT WHO FOUND THE CARDS AND WHAT WAS THEIR REACTION. "Could also hide some candy in the files and then she'd FIND all the cards as well as all the candy." It could be a genius solution if needed. The mock note gets a snicker of laughter from Rhody, no seriousness here. "Day 1,263? How long do you plan on BEING a weyrling?" That's over three years! She counted! And now she streetches out, further into the blanket nest, which means getting a little closer to F'yr-shoulder as it is the only suitable pillow to be found. "Well, Leirith did need to convince her that the eggs should only be kissed with eyes and not actual snoots just yet." Glorioth isn't the only over-enthusiastic dragon in the clutch although others show it in different ways.
F'yr only gives a slow nod with a mysteriously mischievous smile in answer to that inviting vowel. No details are forthcoming just this minute. Maybe it falls into one of F'yr's weird compartments for individual relationships. It's easy to segue from that non-answer right into a plaintive look at the gold weyrling. "Mm. Maybe I need to introduce you to my lifemate before I answer that. He's enormous. Irreverent. Literally only listens to himself - the other day he pointed out to me that he heard there were evil-doers in the forest. … because he told me half an hour before that there were evil-doers in the forest and we should go after them. He found my answer more convincing, not less." So, 1,263 is probably accurate in this case. "Maybe I'll hang back as a senior weyrling a while. Especially if Ri'tah doesn't graduate right away for some reason." Like, the fact that he will be all of 13 when junior weyrlinghood is over. That drains quite a lot of the humor from F'yr's demeanor and he stares at his klah. His arm around Rhody automatically adjusts as she makes use of his shoulder-pillow. He can use Ina and the eggs to distract himself. "I'm glad Leirith was able to help her understand that. Maybe egg-kissing with eyes should just be a thing for everyone." A pause, "Did you… actually lick one of the eggs when we were out there touching things that time, or was that my imagination?" Did she really think she would never be asked?
Rhodelia isn't the sort to really PRY, not too much, not when it doesn't matter like the inappropriate cards in inappropriate places. SHE SAVES HER PRYING FOR IMPORTANT THINGS. Right now, she has no pity as she snickers at F'yr's misfortune. "They always told you that dragons had short memories…" She might not have really expected those memories to be only thirty minutes, but that's how the cookie crumbles sometimes. "At least Ri'tah will be the senior weyrling when there are junior weyrlings. So even if he does get kept back, he can be like… a junior assistant weyrlingmaster?" It wouldn't be the WORST fate in the world even if it'd be awkward for a fourteen turn old rider to try and instruct a twenty something turn old. As F'yr ACCUSES her, it's Rhodelia's turn to keep the most deadpan of deadpan faces. "Yes. I think it was maybe Glorioth's egg." Sorry, not sorry.
Listen, Rhody. Some things make F'yr drop everything else. And this moment is one of those times. Forget dragons and their short memories. Forget poor Ri'tah and his all too real one-day struggles. The blond turns his head so he can level a narrow-eyed look on Rhodelia. "Are you telling me…" He starts, drawing out the pause, and then he stumbles. "Shit. I really woke him." His face floods with color. And whatever was Glori-dacted is lost. He briefly squeezes her shoulders and then shucks out of the blankets. "I'm going to run and see if I can get him to settle before he really does wake Ina." Is there any hope for that? Probably not. But, oh well, off goes the bronze weyrling quick as he can through the door and down the stairs.
"Too late!" For Rhodelia, for Inasyth and definitely for Glorioth (whose shell may or may not have been licked) as Rhody is rousing from the blanket-nest as well. Blankets might be abandoned, but the klah mug is coming with her. "But if she starts wrestling him… maybe damage will be contained?" It's at least a hope she can cling to as they run down the stairs of the clock tower and towards the barracks. And if it doesn't work? Maybe that's just the price they pay for all their LIES catching up to them.