The Great Hall

Elaborate paintings and elegant tapestries hang on the walls of the vaulted hall, scenes of Weyr life both old and new depicted on them. Sturdy chairs, benches and well built tables are set all over the huge room, for the comfort and enjoyment of the spectacular view. Large window with ornately carved lintels are carved into the walls, protective shutters flanking each one, able to be close to protect from the chill of the night or the blustering of storms. When open, they allow any breeze, however slight, to blow into the Hall, cooling it off during the heat of the mid day.

Centered along each wall, sets of double doors are inset into the walls, each ornately carved and polished to a deep shine, usually propped open to allow for better air circulation. The hall is always busy, no matter the time or heat of day, as weyrfolk and riders alike come and go to partake of refreshments and meals or simply to gather and talk on any number of topics.

You see Shiny Brass Watermelon Trophy, Wineskin, Bebe, Isa, Persephone, Gazali, Psychotic, Hamlett, and Roller here.

Ophelia, Jyfer, M'sia, Kh'dan, T'on, Madailynn, and Arial are here.

Obvious exits:

Entry Hall Central Hallway North Corridor South Corridor

Kh'dan scrubs a hand over his chin. " At least T'var would understand," he murmurs philosophically, voice caressing the name of the greenrider. " And I can't say I'd mind the trouble too much." This is what happens when you put a man like Kh'dan on a bronze dragon. He chases everything in pants. But nerves still show in his eyes, and he backs a step away as he turns to flash a smile to the greenrider... a very proper, very slight smile. " Thank you, er... Greenrider." T'on? Was that the name he'd heard? " Creeps?" He echos M'sia's comment with confusion. " Why would he give you the creeps?" Admiring glance darts back T'on-wards.

Madailynn wouldn't exactly call them... /safe/... Jyfer and herself. They just aren't targets you see. Or at least they shouldn't be. "Anyone seen the Weyrwoman? I need to speak with her..." Regarding her little 'test'. She's decided something about that gold and washing said dragon. She's tired of hiding about.

M'sia looks at the bronze rider. "You should have seen him back at Benden once.. He hacked a bunch of chairs apart with that pigsticker of his." She replies, shaking her head. "Ever since I get the creepy crawls whenever I see him with that thing around." She admits, a bit embarrassed as she looks away and gathers something to nibble on, appetite not very big right now.

Lyllya wanders into the great hall looking a bit weary but not much the worse for wear. Food and drink are spotted and the weaver candie heads in that general direction, skirting the crowd as much as possible. Once a plate and glass are selected, Lyl makes for a relatively empty table, apparently trying to forget that the room holds so many people.

T'on calls out in M'sia's direction. "My dear bluerider, you are mistaken. I was in the last clutch to be shelled at Bahrain. We moved here before Kyrith rose for her maiden flight. A'razi was the one who hacked stuff apart. Just ask Arial." He rises for a moment, "Arial, wasn't A'razi the one who hacked stuff to bits?" Then he draws his sword, pointing it first in Lyllya and then in Madailynn's direction. "Food. Wine. For everyone."

Ophelia greets Lyllya briefly, raising her wineglass in a motion of hello. It is crowded in here, mostly because of the riders clustering around T'on, but the show'ss well worth the crowd.

Madailynn's brows furrow at T'on and confusion flickers across her face. "Was that an order?" Inquires the Head Nanny in a slightly less then nice tone to the proddized one. She doesn't look like she'd take an order right about now. "I'm looking for the Weyrwoman, that's the only reason I'm hear." Sulk.

M'sia looks at him. "Either way, I get nervous when I see an open blade just swinging about. Especially pointing it at people." Ok, so she was a guard. She has a reason to be nervous One would guess. "Do you have to swing that thing around? Especially in the same rooms as me? I look like a puzzle already, I don't need to look like more of one." She jokes.

Merdan walks from the south corridor entrance.

Lyllya manages to swollow the bite of sandwich she had been chewing when faced with the point of a sword. After a moment's hesitation, she nods.. not being dumb enough to argue with someone who is armed with sharp objects. "Certainly...." Her own meal is forgotten as the weaver candie makes quick work of moving off for the requested items, returning nervously with the wine first. The theory being that wine tends to calm people into a stupor, eventually.

Arial wrinkles her nose and nods slightly, "Yes, A'razi's the one who's fond of axes and hacking things to bits." Ari's got enough memories regarding those little episodes to give her plenty of nightmares. "T'on here just likes to wave that little toothpick of his about." Rolling her eyes, she makes her apologies towards Kh'dan, "I do hope that you restrain judgement of our Weyrlingmaster until he's no longer proddy." Of course, T'on could be so much worse then.

Kh'dan rocks back on his heels, arms crossing across his chest as he regards everyone with slight amusement. Finally, he sinks into a nearby seat to watch the entertainment, and entertainee, with a quirk of his lips. He's learned: be quiet, sit in the corner, and nothing bad will happen to you. Worked with Siani. Should work with T'on.

Seems to be working for Ophelia. And if enough weyrfolk get some of that wine Lyllya's handing out, no one will notice tonight if the wherry tastes as bland as it did last week.

T'on was a harper apprentice. He's an expert at sitting in the corner and hiding. And so it doesn't really work on him. "Yes, that was an order. And you're sitting about doing nothing, so get me some food and wine!" Hey, least the candidate is hopping to. "Oh, be quiet, Arial. You know you want me." He strikes a sexy, feminine pose, one hand on his hip as he grins at the bluerider.

Arial rolls her eyes and pahs, "Ah yes, T'on, I want you like I want a bad cold." Moving over closer to his throne, she winks, "Of course, you could want me."

Arial moving away from T'on and heading out towards the courtyard, she laughs, "But that's going to have to wait."

Arial exits the room for the smaller entry hall.

"Get it yourself." Snaps Madailynn in /more/ then a defiant tone. "I'm not part of the weyr yet, I'm a guest, you can't order me around." Grump. "So go bug one of the ones you guys are already stolen to get you wine and what not. Because I'm not budging." Arms cross stubbornly across her chest. Ha!

It didn't bring any overt notice, did it? Kh'dan's staying right here and admiring the greenrider. Anyway, standing up at this moment probably wouldn't be a good idea... thanks to T'on's posing. Instead, he leans back in the chair and wraps his arms behind his head, emerald eyes glittering as he simply takes it all in.

Merdan walks into the room and quickly looks for the broom he was told to use. Picking what he believes to be the right one up, he starts sweeping the floor in the area near the refuse, being careful to not get the broom dirty with spilled food. He bends over and picks up the spills with a cloth and dumps it in the bins, carefully wiping the floor in the process. Glancing up he does all he can to avoid anyone's eye.

Lyllya was a harper apprentice too, long long ago.. being an apprentice in any craft means you learn to do what you're told. T'on is approached with great trepidation and a large glass of wine held out to the greenrider. Held out carefully, he /did/ just have a very long, sharp object in his hand.

M'sia shakes her head and sighs. Well, any chance of a nice peaceful day is shot.. she might as well enjoy the chaos. She stands and moves to gather a few meatrolls as she looks for a place to observe the chaos without being too close to it. She's definitely nervous about the naked steel.

Poor Lyllya. That's why Ophelia stayed on her side of the hall -- the safe, T'on-free side.

T'on grins, and takes the glass from Lylla, before tilting his head back and draining the glass in one long long drink, gulping and gulping, some escapes, dripping down the side of his face. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he grins. "Ah, that's the stuff. Now, we need to see about food...food...yes...must have....food." And he stalks towards the food table.

M'sia sighs and shakes her head. "Oh well." She says to herself and looks about, assessing the situation. ONe proddy green rider. One visiting bronze rider. A few candidates, drudges, cooks. And her. Well, it could be worse. "Anything good over there, T'on?" She asks. She'll get it after he leaves.

Lyllya backs away quickly. Beware those who ride green and carry big.. swords. "Food." Yep, she knows what that is, being the genius that she is. Having played human wine dispenser, the candie moves off for a tray, giving Merdan an 'oh, lovely, let /me/ deal with the guy-with-the-pointy-thing' look. A brisk walk takes her to the kitchens and she returns with a tray filled with fresh sweetrolls. Sweet is good. Sweet makes people happy. Sweet could save her life. "Anyone?" Somehow, the vocalization comes nearly as a squeek. Nope. Not nervous here.

Kym heads in from the north corridor.

J'lia walks crisply in from the entry hall.

Merdan moves gradually away from the barrels of offal, and closer to the tables of food, walking backward and sweeping a pile of dust, dirt, droppings and sundry other items along with him. He stops, bending down to pick up the pile by shoving it into a small flat board with a lip on three sides. He stands and walks to the barrels, and then turns around, begining his sweep a second time, taking another swath of floor mess with him, on the way to the feeding tables, and oblvious to those heading that way.

J'lia treads on a few squishy meatrolls left on the floor as she makes a sweltering way in. "Tsk," she declares. "Xanadu had better housekeeping when I lived here." That must indicate some virtue on her part, of course. Melodramatic swipe of the back of her hand against her forehead, and she adds, "It's hot here." In case anyone cares. Nevermind that she has a perfectly good hot-weather tunic under all that leather, if she'd eschew modesty for a moment and strip off the jacket.

T'on leaps up onto a table, walking in sort of half jumps to the food table, before starting to rifle through it. "Want something rare. Need...rare..yes..." He starts to make a mess, pushing some food onto the floor, and still other food gets set ontop of things.

Kym saunters into the hall from one of the adjoining corridors, miming a small yawn. "Something to drink," the greenrider mutters to herself. "That'd be nice." And so Kym heads for the beverages, pausing long enough to eye T'on once before shrugging shoulders and continuing on her quest for things to drink.

M'sia looks up, blinking as she backs off. Don't want to get hit with food after all.. She doesn't wanna get stuck with the cleanup duty too much either. "T'on, you're wasting a lot of good food there." she replies a bit mildly, though she seems rather resigned to further chaos.

Kh'dan's head perks up as he hears a familiar voice, and he flickers a grin J'lia-wards. " Ho, J'lia," calls the bronzerider from where he perches in the corner, watching T'on with that ever-so adoring gaze. " Look, a proddy greenrider. Isn't that just your favorite sight, too?" Emerald eyes sparkle with good humor amidst the, well... lust.

Food fight? No one ever mentioned /this/ part of weyr life. Lyllya gives a sigh, looking at the mess but, Merdan has a broom... let /him/ handle this part. Armed with a tray of sweets, the silent candidate moves over to another, safer looking area of the hall, placing the tray on an empty table. "Oh my.." Yes, she did manage to speak, though it is toward Ophelia that the words go. "Whatever could be wrong?" And is it catching?

Merdan turns and looks at the food tables, and notices the mess of food on the floor. He dutifully moves to pick up the wasted food and scoops it up with the board. A few trips are taken to remove the food before he realizes he will be doing this for a while. He lugs one of the less full barrels over closer to the table and starts to shovel the waste into it. Offal, offal, wherefore at thou offal.

J'lia jumps, upon hearing her name. So much for incognito. "Kh'dan!" she greets after a moment of fumbling with memory. Lucky she has Anuith. He never forgets his Children. "How's, um...Nyrloth?" Ball two for the dragon. The dragon strikes out, though, as she pales and casts a worried eye on the Greenie. "Proddy? Really? Um. Well, no. My favorite sight is..." She stops, and snags a drudge. "Something alcoholic. /Now/."

"Him, he's wrong," Ophelia tells Lyllya, indicating T'on, before realizing belatedly, "You were the one -- talking about mating flights to the Weyrwoman the other day." It's not catching unless one is a rider -- or is /very/ sensitive.

"BLOOD!" Comes the cry from T'on's lips as his eyes fly open wide, blazing with something akin to fury. "I must have blood! Blood! Where is all the rare meat?" He lifts a plate off the table and sends it Kym's way.

Ophelia instinctively ducks at T'on's motion, even though the projectile isn't aimed in her direction. You never know how things might ricochet in here. "If he wants blood, he ought to eat the raw meat I was marinating for dinner," she mutters to herself.

M'sia blinks at the cry for blood, leaping backwards out of her chair in alarm, before standing, shaking her head. "Don't yell like that!" She replies voice quavering a bit nervously. "Sharding scared me out of my skin." She mutters weakly under her breath as she stands, rubbing her bruised heinie.

J'lia curls her lip in disdain T'on-wards. "Sheesh." She plucks some of that rotgut off a drudge's tray, and downs it with a whimper. Mommy, it /burns/. But better that than consciousness.

Kym knows enough about T'on and his dragon being proddy to keep a watchful eye on him. So the plate is step-sided easily enough, and Kym arches eyebrows, quirking a faint grin towards the other greenrider that's probably meant to infuriate him moreso. "Tsk, tsk. T'on. Have some /constraint./ You're just like a little holderboy." Kym comes to a halt, head tilted to one side and hands idly perched upon hips. "Do you need your mother to come get you?" she inquires mockingly.

Lyllya blinks at Ophelia. "Yes, but.. what.." And, as if a glow basket were opened somewhere in the darkend corridors of her mind, the candidate's eyes begin to glimmer with the light of understanding. "You mean....?" Her thumb points back T'on-ward. "/That/ is what happens?" A wince is given as the plate goes flying and the former weaver's eyes go rather wide. "Oh my.. should I get something from the kitchens?" This, again, goes to Ophelia, because she knows everything.

Merdan glances up at the rider from his kneeling position on the floor and softly says "I can get you some in the kitchens if you wish rider, sir?" He looks like he is about to panic and try to escape anywhere, but he realizes that this must be normal, or someone would have restrained the man.

Ophelia rolls her eyes at Lyllya's panic. "No, you don't need anything from the kitchen. I'd say, just avoid T'on's knife and you're okay. He's one of our more flamboyant riders," she observes, pointing out the greenrider's ribbons. "Most of them don't quite put on this big of a production."

M'sia shivers a bit and shakes her head, gritting her teeth a bit. Were she not distracted by commentary from a third party, she'd probably be feeling revulsion at the thought of her drinking blood. Dragon maybe, but human? However, she's a bit distracted by the chaos and the pain in her rump as she stands. "Shards." She says simply, not knowing what else to say. Seems eloquent enough.

Knife? It's a sword. He grins happily, wiping at his mouth. "Ah, blood...hot blood." He starts towards the entrance of the room, cackling in lustful gleee.

Kym directs a rather scornful look towards Lyllya, catching her words and providing an answer despite the fact that it wasn't her that the questions were directed to. "T'on just likes to make a commotion and draw attention," she remarks flippantly. "Best thing to do is to ignore it." She wrinkles her nose. "Raw meat? Ew. No. He'll survive without it." An approving nod is cast towards Ophelia as she repeats, "Just like a little holderboy." One could almost think that Kym /likes/ provoking T'on. Surely not.

Lyllya blushes slightly but nods at Ophelia's information. "Alright.." Kym is given yet another bob of her head and the girl begins to relax slightly at the reassurance of more than one person. After all, it has to end sometime.. right? A seat is taken as shakey legs begin to give way and the candidate simply watches, mouth open slightly, and remains silent aside from an occasional "Oh my.."

T'on stops, and then leaps back across the room, skittering around until he gets right behind Kym. Then he reaches up, tugs on her hair, pulling her head back across his shoulder. Then he leans his own head down, pressing his lips to hers for a full, deep, and extremely passionate kiss that is held for a few moments. Then, giggling madly, he leaps away, heading for the Ground Weyrs.

T'on exits the room for the smaller entry hall.

Merdan turns to watch the rider charge off and smiles toward him "Haven't seen anything that humorous since ... well since I was an apprentice." He retrieves his cleaning equipment and continues to remove the spoiled food from the floor, having a care to pick up the more /wet/ components with his rag. "I had better wash this up." he says to himself, looking around, but seemingly at a loss as to where to get anything to do so.

J'lia reels after T'on, grabbing another round of rotgut on her way out. Here we go again...

J'lia exits the room for the smaller entry hall.

M'sia blinks, startled as T'on dashes off, after bussing Kym on the lips. She sighs and shakes her head, determined to make sure he stays out of.. whatever trouble she can prevent him fom getting into.

M'sia exits the room for the smaller entry hall.

Ophelia wrinkles her nose at the kiss that T'on delivered. "Too wet to be any good," is her verdict from the peanut gallery. "Hey, Merdan, next time, don't be so helpful. T'on will make things difficult no matter /what/ you do." And leave the mess to others to clear up.

Takovic drags himself into the room, managing, if at all possible, to look even more tired than he did earlier. There really is no end, is there. But it's late...Hopefully there'll be some mercy. His jerky motions exaggerated by his state, he flumps into a chair, fidgeting with the scroll he hopes he has some time for now. Fortunately, he thinks, he's good at being inconspicuous...He hopes...

Lyllya just /blinks/ and pales considerably. "Oh my.. Oh my..." The ex-weaverlet moves to yet another seat and letting out a tremenous sigh of relief once the proddy one leaves altogether. "Oh my.. I've never.. I mean.. of course I haven't but.." Shudder. Twitch. This is all just too much. So much, in fact, that the girl simply folds her arms on the table and rests her head upon them, breathing deeply and muttering, once again, "Oh my..."

Well. So Kym wasn't upset or alarmed at shattering plates and screams and the rest of T'on's proddy routine. She does, however, glower darkly after the departing greenrider, one hand going up in an attempt to straight out her hair. "/Ow./" After that belated reaction, the Weyrsecond yells after T'on, "I'm going to tell /Sabria!/" So there. A small scowl is sent towards Ophelia. "He's secretly in love with me," she comments. "Does that every sharding time Kyrith goes up. And you /wonder/ why I tried to run him through with a sword." She sniffs. "It /wasn't/ any good, either. If he's going to kiss me, he should at least kiss good."

Merdan turns to gaze at Ophelia "Yes ma'am, but I was taught to be accomodating by my parents, and it's very hard to undo that." Blink blink. He kneels down again to pick up more mess, and then stands up, a puzzled look on his face. "Do we have a mop and bucket? This is very messy, I can't sweep any of this up."

Ophelia taps Lyllya's arm -- the one closer to her. "You okay? This is nothing, really. Happens all the time, and you can just leave the next time if you don't like it." Assuming she isn't saddled with a dragon by then. At Kym's irate comments, she merely smirks. Ophelia's seen it all before. " -- Merdan, mops and buckets are in the closet, with the rest of the cleaning stuff."

Takovic may not be aware of it, but he probably picked a rather good time to enter--after the worst of the storm's gone past, it seems. Were he a bit more attentive (and even when he's not exhausted, he's not so attentive), he might take some curiosity in the curious behavior of the others present. But then again, this candidate /knows/ if he's recognized, it's more chores. So he sits, looking blankly ahead. If it comes, it comes...

"Too bad I didn't succeed," Kym adds regretfully. "Or chop off something vital."

"Better luck next time?" Ophelia directs to Kym, with a wicked smile. She doesn't dislike T'on, but she's no fan of showy antics either.

Several deep breaths later, and after Ophelia's tap, Lyllya lifts her head, nodding it in an affirmitave answer to her question. "I'm alright. Just didn't know what was happening, that's all." Gulp. One hand is raised and moved to fan her rather pallid face as she glances Kym-ward. "Oh my," is her only comment on /that/ topic. The mess is finally noted and, with one mournfull look toward her own abandoned plate, the candidate moves off to clean.

The difference between Kym and Ophelia is that Kym /does/ dislike T'on and has for the majority of her time knowing him. It's only rarely that Kym ceases with her taunting and is actually civil to the other greenrider. "Yeah, I hope. Although I should come up with a better way -- I'm not very good with swords. And he ends up stealing my dresses when I steal his swords." She ponders for a minute, perching herself on a tabletop nearby that somehow came out unscathed. "Or else I should get Peydra to give me lessons."

Merdan nods happily at Ophelia's direction and heads to the same closet he obtained the broom from. Ah, clueless weaver anyone? Makes good bait when fishing... "Thank you Ophelia, ma'am." With mop and bucket in hand he goes to fill the bucket and add some soapsand to make the job that much more delightful, returning with a soapy bucket and a wet mop. Swashing left and right, and wiggling his bottom in the process, he moves across the floor in the area where the food was spilled, dipping the mop in the bucket and squeezing it with his hands to dry it somewhat before repeating the process.

Elisa steps gracefully from the central hall.

Takovic still doesn't quite know what's happening, but at least he has time to breathe now. Actually bothering to /look/ out before him instead of stare, he jolts forward in his seat a bit--as much as he can for how tired he is. Stuttering softly, he practically volunteers, "As it were, I should be helping, you know, I should be?" His tone is somewhere between statement and question. Taking his usual awkward time to stand up, he stands there as if waiting to be confirmed for what he really does know. Probably better, though, to have chores than to be left in the wake by a ProddyRider.

Ophelia eyes Merdan narrowly, but only because he called her "ma'am". To Kym, she wonders, "I'm just surprised no one's taken that sword away from him." She did call it a knife, but only because she didn't want to alarm Lyllya further. "Are they gonna wait till he runs someone through with it, before they take it away?"

Lyllya is going to stay away from all this sword talk, having had one pointed at her in the not so distant past. Plates and other large debris are removed from the floor and placed in a stack to be carted off to the kitchen before other, less solid detritus are scraped away. "What a mess," the girl sighs, taking a bit longer on the more stubborn spills.

Elisa comes into the hall and pauses at the entrance, just... looking at all of the chaos and mayhem. Looking askance at Kym, she asks simply, "Kyrith?"

Jyfer walks from the central hall.

"We try," Kym informs, rolling her eyes. "He always gets more when Kyrith gets proddy. It's her...'thing.' Thank Faranth Gwyneth's not as violent as her." No, she's just more provocative -- which always rubs off on her lifemate, too. "He's never run anyone through with it, yet. Tried to stab me, kind of, but ended up kissing me." Here, nose wrinkles distastefully. "Just like he did this time." The greenrider peers towards Elisa as the question is asked and nods once. "You guessed it."

Jyfer comes back in, still smelling of runners and looking dirty, but safe from the horro of a proddy T'on for another few months. She gives a nod of greeting to Elisa and the others in the room, heading over to refill the empty juice glass in her hand.

Lyllya is still cleaning, though a nod is sent toward Jyfer. The former weaver's hands still tremble as she cleans up the post-T'on disaster of food, but the color is returning to her cheeks. "Well, it'll have to be swept and mopped, but it's better than it was."

Elisa looks upwards at the ceiling and sighs. "I think I may consider having him help pay for the damages he causes. You'd think he'd have a little more control by now." At least a /little/ more. Jyfer's nod is returned and the goldrider finds herself a seat relatively far from all the cleanup work. "Wonder if the dragonhealers would condone sedating him," she muses.

Kym glances towards Lyllya from her perch on high and comments, "I don't think you should have to clean that up. Make T'on do it." She grins faintly towards Elisa, innocently suggesting, "We can always slip something into his drinks next time Kyrith starts glowing."

Takovic is probably very lucky that, to this point, he's never met T'on. Nor has he been fully aware of the name. Instead, he becomes increasingly aware that a candidate doesn't need to be invited to assist in a chore. Seeking out a mop or broom with a sweep of his eyes, he tries to budget his energy in getting to it and beginning. Then, moving into the almost waltzlike action with the rest of the Candidates, he finally wonders quietly, "So to speak, what happened, you know, what happened?" His tone is rather more wavery than usual, hinting that he's really concerned by the more evident mess.

Jyfer chuckles at the riders suggestions, and takes a seat away from the mess. No need to make them remember she is a drudge when she has a restday and plans on enjoying the rest of it. She sips her juice, watching the activity of the hall go back to normal.

Ophelia perks up, raising her wineglass to the Weyrwoman. "I second that suggestion, Elisa. Kym's is good too." Maybe Kym ought to get priority, to make up for T'on's unwelcome kiss.

Merdan smiles at Lyllya "Already taken care of Lyllya. I have the mop right here." He holds up the trusty tool of his new position and smiles at her. "Nothing like a little spit and polish now and then, eh?" Oh, but he will feel it later... He listens intently to the conversation of the weyrfolk and nods to himself now and then. Was that whistling coming from his direction?

Lyllya simply blinks at Kym. She's supposed to be doing this, right? Momentary indecision clouds the candie's face before she stands. "Oh, I don't think he really /ment/ to do it.." Takovic is given her attention, a blush coloring the no longer pallid cheeks. "T'on's proddy." And she's hiding next time. Under a rock. Merdan is blinked at blankly for a moment. "Oh. Yes. Mopping. Where did you get the mop?"

"Of course he did," Kym contradicts, snorting. "He's just a stupid little /boy/ who can't control himself. He knows exactly what he's doing. All of it." This includes the kissing Kym bit. "And he's going to /pay/ for it, too. So he can clean it himself and pay for damages himself and deal with it himself. You don't have to do it." By the snap in Kym's voice -- which is most likely there simply because of the fact that she doesn't want to be kissed by T'on, ever -- it's nearly an order.

Takovic's eyebrows raise to be visible above his spectacle frames; his eyes flash with a bit of alarm. He's heard stories of the havoc a proddy greenrider can wreak, yet he's never had the (mis)fortune of encountering one. "It's good, then, as it were, good that I, you know, missed him?" Tako asks, leaning on the mop long enough to scan the room. Eyes snapping toward Kym as she hisses, he mentally justifies the answer to his own question as he resumes mopping.

"Good is relative, candidate," Ophelia mentions to Takovic as he mops by where she's seated. "Kym, for instance, would probably regard it as good if she missed T'on's show, but T'on didn't try to kiss you, did he?"

"Hey -- you. You who Gwyneth thinks is funny." Kym's bad with names, and ends up grasping at straws in an attempt to gain Takovic's attention. "You who we stole with the sweaters." She pauses a beat to make sure that she's got his attention, then calls over, "Stop. Put away your mop. This hall is going to stay messy until T'on cleans it up. It's his problem." She glowers at the other candidates, adding, "That goes for all of you. Pass it along. Don't clean this room anymore." Glancing towards Ophelia, she informs, "I wouldn't miss the chance to make T'on mad." She smiles, sacchrine-sweet. "I'd just erase that kissing part. But I get satisfaction out of making him so mad that he throws plates at me."

Jyfer shudders at the idea of T'on kissing anything. Male or Female, living or nonliving. She continues to sip her juice. She uses a sleeve to wipe some dirt from her face, then smiles watching Kym.

But who cleans up after he's smashed the plates? Ophelia merely nods at Kym in return, not about to volunteer to assist in goading such violent outbursts from anyone.

Lyllya just blinks at Kym. Another rider making T'on angry is one thing, a candidate who only a short while ago was looking at the point of T'on's sword making T'on angry is quite another. "But.. what if he decides that we are to blame for the mess?" The candie asks, fear overriding her usual shyness.

Ophelia taps Lyllya's arm to get her attention again. "He's involved in a mating flight right now. He doesn't have the brains to think about blaming people for messes." Nor will he when he wakes up, unless the flight /really/ turns out badly.

Takovic stops mopping in his tracks again, face twisting to an expression of some shock. "He didn't, as it were, he didn't." The shock's just as clear in the wavery voice. Again snapping around to look at Kym, he stands straight up, fingers tapping the mop handle, though his expression takes on new weirdness of misunderstanding. "I'm supposed to stop now, as it were, stop?" Unusual turn of events. Retreating from the middle of the room now toward his previous chair, he whispers, "Thanks, you know, thanks..." That is what he should say, right?

Merdan looks at Kym, and hesitates. He stops his cleaning though, taking the mop water ... somewhere ... to dump out. He returns in a short while with the broom "Well, I was supposed to clean up the floor. I will do so where the rider didn't make a mess, if nobody objects?" He looks toward Kym for approval.

Jyfer watches the candidates and smiles. Less chores for her. She finishes her juice, then turns her chair sideways, pulling up another chair and lifting her feet to it, lounging in the hall.

Spryte slips from the south corridor entrance.

T'on does, of course. Everything gets blamed on T'on. Kym is perfection incarnate. "So what?" she replies, shrugging shoulders. "I don't care what he thinks. He won't pull out his swords anymore once Kyrith's caught. And if he orders you to clean up, tell him that I said not to. I outrank him." Kym /likes/ pulling rank. Especially when the person on the other end is T'on. "Stop," she repeats to Takovic, nodding. "Yes. Stop. You can...clean the baths or something. I don't know. If you have to do a chore, I'm sure there's another you can be doing right now. Just don't clean up this hall."

Takovic has stopped, and he's also stopped questioning. The normally-quite candidate thinks he knows enough to know he doesn't want to know anymore. Some things, though, are learned: do chores only when actually told, and avoid T'on. Leaning the mop against a table, he seats himself and leans forward, chin resting on hands. As far as he's concerned, he'd choose to not have to do a chore. But that's not up to him.

Elisa steps gracefully through the wide archway into the Central Hallway.

Spryte hesitates in the doorway just peering in for a moment before entering the room,

Lyllya frowns at Ophelia's words, blushing deeply for a moment before bobbing her head in agreement. Her abandoned plate is scraped clean and taken away before a fresh glass of juice is claimed. "Well, I had been mending but was released to find something to eat." Of course, that was before hurricane T'on swept through the hall and changed her plans.

However, there'll be nothing to eat if Ophelia doesn't go back to work, so the kitchen assistant drags herself off, taking her wineglass with her.

Ophelia walks through the wide archway into the Central Hallway.

Spryte looks around the room and wonders just what happened, perhaps now would be a good time to put her things away after dragging them from the Hold.

Jyfer keeps her eyes on the activities of the hall, pausing as she smells something. She sniffs a few minutes before glancing down at her clothes. How embarassing. It's her. She blushes faintly, but doesn't move, enjoying the feeling of actually sitting in the hall for once instead of working in it.

Well, that's not the actual lesson, but Kym can't correct Takovic since he's not vocalizing what he's supposedly learned. A lesson, Kym-style, would be along the lines of: Kym is crazy. So is T'on. Kym wins because she has a fatter knot. Let T'on clean up his own mess, but still do the million other chores the Weyr has that needs to be done. And don't get on Kym's bad side.

Merdan puts the broom back in the closet, and leaves the piles of sweepings on the floor. He turns to Lyllya and says "I suppose we can go clean the baths, if that's what the rider wants. I just hate to leave a job half done, or not done at all."\

Lyllya shrugs. After what she's been through, turning the midden would be prefferable.. well.. almost. "Well, orders are orders." See? She /can/ get it through her thick head. "I'm willing to help with the baths, assuming I'm released from mending. I'll go ask in a bit.. after my juice." Juice is all she can handle, at the moment.

"I didn't say you had to clean the baths," Kym corrects, rolling her eyes. "I said that if you /have/ to do a chore right now, then there's something else you can be doing. This area is off-limits for cleaning. That's all."

Jyfer glances around and sighs. No real action now that T'on has left. Though he was a little bit too much action. She takes her feet from the chair next to her and rises, going to get some food and more juice.

Merdan turns back to Lyllya and says "Were you going to eat? My stomach needs fuel to keep me going with all this work."

Takovic is totally out of fuel and his mechanics need rest. Right now, he's practically off, still leaning foward onto his hands and just watching now, glancing down occasionally to the scroll he's put back in his lap. Hold momento not so much as treasured project, he hopes he'll get time for it--which is unlikely in his state.

Lyllya nods at Kym. "Oh, of course, I was merely offering to help Merdan." Because, she's supposed to do that sort of thing. "I was assigned to mending duty." Which is good, because she came from the weaverhall. Merdan is given a bob of her head. "Was. I have no appetite now. I think juice is all I can handle."

Kym hops down from her table, finally, and regards the mess for a minute before shrugging and reaching out a hand to casually swipe at a platter stacked with tubers and watch with satisfaction as it clatters to the floor. Sadist. "There. Good night, everyone." And with that, she saunters out of the caverns.

Kym traipses through the wide archway into the Central Hallway.

Jyfer takes her food and glass, and glancing around the hall decides not being around when someone else of authority shows up. I.E. Elisa. She heads towards the dorms, taking her food, and wonderful smell with her.

Takovic is just too tired to eat, but as he's not really being asked, he doesn't worry about it. Eyes following Kym's exit, he lifts a hand long enough to offer a slight jerky wave. After such occurrences, he thinks, it may be best not to talk.

Merdan shruggs "I will bring a pitcher of juice back with me." He looks at Takovic "You want anything? Ah, " he pauses and says "Merdan, candidate from weaver hall in Xanadu, and you are?" he waits for him to respond.

Takovic's hands are fidgeting with the scroll in his lap again; his head turns toward Merdan now as he shakes it a bit. "No, as it were, no thank you," he responds softly, fatiguedly. Taking his time to answer the rest of the question, it seems harder than it should for him to say, "I'm Takovic, you know, Takovic, grabbed, so to speak, from Fort Hold." He shakes his head again slightly, more overwhelmed than he's ever been. Many new people, and many new jobs.

Lyllya sighs as the tubers hit the floor, wincing at the clatter. "Oh my.." Clearly, she's resisting the urge to jump up and clear away the mess. "Weyr life is so much different from the hall." There being no proddy riders about the weaverhall to point swords at people and throw food about. Merdan is afforded a nod before attention is given to Takovic. "I'm Lyllya, also from the weaverhall."

Merdan moves to the tables, doing his best to avoid spiled food, wet floor and piles of sweepings. Picking up a plate he fills it with food, takes a tray to put the plate on, and then puts a pitcher of juice and three glasses with the plate on the tray. Returning to the table, he says "I got some for you too Takovic. You should drink a lot while here, it is necessary to replenish the perspiration. It's a lot hotter here than up north, and you have to learn to live a bit differently."

Takovic is indeed living /quite/ differently--and that's why he's a bit too out of it to drink. But he is glad for friendly advice. Taking the cup with one rather shaky hand (the other still rests on the manuscript), he offers a soft, "Thanks, thanks," to Merdan. At least he's not met anyone disagreeable so far. To Lyllya, he nods slightly, adding, "And different from the Hold, too, as it were, quite different." Could it be he's spoken more these last two days than he usually does weekly?

Lyllya gives an understanding grin and pours another glass of juice. "I hope the mess is cleaned up before anything decides that its a good feeding ground as well as a good place to live." Squirmy things not being fun to watch and listen to while eating. "I hope not all.. ah.. flights go the same way."

Merdan lifts the pitcher and pours juice in Takovic's glass "Drink man, it's not wine, but it has a nice fruity flavor, and sweet too." He moves then to join Lyllya, placing his plate and tableware down, then the pitcher and glasses, filling both and handing one to his fellow weaver.

Takovic obeys Merdan's suggestion as if it's another chore assignment--not with reluctance or anger, but in the sense of automatedness. Downing a sizeable gulp indeed, he then reaches back to place the cup on the table. "That's probably better than wine, you know, better." He actually avoids wine. It makes people act scary and ask questions. Though probably not as scary as T'on was. "As it were, I hope that was an abnormality, so to speak, abnormality only."

Takovic hugs Lyllya! Lyllya gathers you into her arms, snuggles and squeezes you, then plops you back down, then asks, 'Now, why would you want to go an' do that?'

Lyllya nods her firm agreement, downing her own glass of juice and setting it aside. "Excuse me, I want to find out my next chore assignement, since that pile of mending was getting pretty low when I left." The ex-weaverlet leaves for a moment, returning with a rather ambiguous look. "I'm supposed to go out and help with the beach cleaning.." Merdan is glanced at as well as Takovic, "Anyone assigned to clean in here? I'm sure they'll need more hands.." And she'd rather not face more stangers alone.

Merdan chuckles and looks back at Takovic "From what I heard, T'on is the most gregarious of the greens, and his antics are legend in the weyr, though I don't know if I should choose to believe the drudges in the kitchen above the riders themselves. Kym, from her knot must be one of the ranking riders. I don't know weyr knots that well yet, and nobody seems inclined to introduce themselves, just boss us about." He takes into his food, and obtains what he needs to sustain himself. "I think that was supposed to be my next task, after cleaning the great hall here, and since I don't have to finish this... I am all for some time outside."

Lyllya simply shrugs. "From what I understand, anyone wearing a weyr knot is able to tell us to do something and expect it to be done.. within reason, of course." Thankfully, she hasn't been subjected to unreasonable requests, yet. "And, since I am to help with beach clean up.." Hey, it's far away from the hall and any incoming proddy rider.. this is a Good Thing.

Merdan nods and says "Fine, but if one rider says jump, and another says sit, which do you obey?" He takes a bit more of his food and has a chug of liquid, pausing only a moment before shoveling more food in.

Merdan nods and has another mouthful of food, swallowing it down with more juice and then pushes the now empty plate back. "Well, let me get this food settled in and then we can head down. I take it we need to let someone know we are going to the beach, in case they are looking for us?"

"I've already done so, but you would." Lyllya agrees, standing back and waiting for Merdan. "Besides, once we are done we can take a rest and I don't believe you have seen the eggs as yet." Not that hiding in the most obvious place is really smart.