A thief is arrested

21st March 2004*
Logged by Donis

Galleries, during Chayath's clutching.

Axle walks in.

"That's a well-looking one." is Wyn's opinion on the Dirty Dancing Egg, nodding once at Dominicke's ooohing before pursing her lips and consulting her book of bets again. "Mmm, actually, have you ever Stood before? You feel odd things at egg touchings. Intriguing, even if logically it's simply the developing dragonets."

Sylara takes a break from staring at the bright eggs to look around. When Axle's presence is spotted, she groans audibly. Her shoulders sag, and she turns away from the entrance, as if to totally avoid seeing him.

From the sands, Chayath shudders and stalls, taking a moment to relax. The end is coming, and the next two eggs come much more slowly. The twenty-second arrives in all its tacky-hued glory, and is routinely nudged into its home, before Chayath adds gently a gathering of sand to support its base. The twenty-third - making her clutch size equal to Cadgwith's - arrives after another pause, and Chayath very nearly flops to the ground in exhaustion after it is safely added alongside the other.

Tacky Plastic Bangles Egg
Cheap and nasty, smooth stripes of colour encircle this skinny egg with vividly clashing shades. Almost sombre in comparison to the opposing colors, dark blue clanks alongside a cheerfully sunny yellow, while broad lines of artificial dayglo orange alternate with thinner bands of daring hot pink. The neon bands almost obsure- but don't quite completely cover- the basic beige of the brightly-ringed shell.

Rubic's Puzzle of Doom Cubed Egg
It's a square; no, it's a cube! Wait.. I thought it was supposed to be an egg! Maybe not. With red, yellow, orange, green, blue, and white little blobs covering the creased egg from top to bottom, it's hard to tell if it's even real at all. The color's in neatly precise squares (with black lining throughout each one - to make it look cool and kickin') it looks awfully confusing, and even more, like, radical. But, what /is/ the point of this squarely-looking egg, big for it's shape, and even more colorful than makes sense? Each color isn't even in a pattern; isn't all white supposed to be touching? Or aren't they supposed to be in order? Can -you- figure it out? (As if!)

Donis is at the back of the galleries, in the shadows, scanning those latecomers still appearing in the galleries. As Axle arrives, the guard stiffens… then starts to make his way through the galleries, pausing occasionally to speak to some people.

Lirena walks in from the Peek-A-Boo Ledge.

Kalaeya eyes the Dirty Dancing Egg with interest but turns to see Axle's entrance, she waves quickly and sees Sylara out of the corner of her eye, wondering what Axle has done. She soon, however, doesn't care and turns her pretty (heh) little head back to more important things. Eggies, for one.

From the sands, Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, Pyrene twitches uneasily, totting up Chayath's rows. "23," she finally says, casting Shaela an impassive look. "You've matched Cadge, then. Well done…." Matching is better than exceeding, at least.

From the sands, L'uc rocks back onto his heels this time and nods approvingly at the eggs already on the Sands. "They're a nice looking bunch already." And there's nothing wrong with a bunch of green eggs either. Jydhaeth croons to Chayath now and doesn't care if she's the smallest gold at 'Reaches. He's one of the largest bronzes at 'Reaches anyway, so, they're a good match. Of course, when the last of the eggs arrive, Jydhaeth is right there crooning to Chayath as she rests. "Twenty-three. Nice.."

From the sands, "Well, not a grandsire just yet," Shaela corrects, "But very nearly so. Give it a few weeks. The attention all this attracts is nothing compared to a Hatching. It's a strange experience, the first time watching your lifemate's children Hatch and Impress. Kind of like acquiring twenty or more children of your own, really."

Axle just having wandered into the galleries, Axle looks a little road-beaten. Dusty, tired, and disheveled, it's clear that he's just arrived from quite the long distance trip in time to peek out at the crowd in the galleries before heading down to the baths to wash up a bit. His cold eyes raking out over the occasional elderly woman or ditzy-looking blonde, those present don't hold his interesting for too long.

Dominicke chuckles and nods, "I like it, and oooh, look at that one." he notes with a pointed finger towards the Rubic's Cube egg. "Me? No, I've never Stood, not ever." he pauses to listen to Wyn though, "I've heard that touching eggs are interesting, but then people have no explanation for it."

From the sands, Shaela has lost the tally in her mind, and its Pyrene's comment that reminds her that she should be looking smug just about now. "She's not done just yet," Shae calls back to her wingmate, with a sort of mocking nyah-nyah tone.

Ralin scampers playfully in from the Peek-A-Boo Ledge.

Donis pauses in his people-collecting to curse quietly: "Equal numbers in the clutches! Well, at least I don't have to pay out to Wyn…" he comments to one of the rather large men following him, discreetly as possible, down the stairs.

Wyn nods absently. "A most unusual egg, certainly." she agrees about the Rubik's Cube, before raising her voice Donis-wards. "Teaches me not to broaden my bets… I shall have to get you next clutch!"

Tatia comes up the stairs.
Lurel goes home.

From the sands, Chayath takes her time with the last, and it's no wonder that most in the crowd seem to think she's done. She hardly seems to move an inch, until the egg has been deposited on the sands, and then with a swift movement, the final egg is added to the pile with an extra-careful touch.

The Neverending Story Egg
This is an egg, my friends, that just never ends: it goes on and on.. er, wait, wrong script. In fact, this egg is… fluffy? Indeed, it is sheer cream fluff, with monstrously large blobs of color mounted on the sides of this hulking round object. They're almost like eyes: never blinking, just.. waiting, watching, in a benevolent monster sort of way. The pattern of 'fluffiness' curls as wool still on the sheep: it creates an optical illusion, confusing the mind's eye. Indeed, it's almost as if some rather large creature is curled about the ovoid protectively, staring out at whomever deigns to look upon it.

Axle's sharp gaze finally moves onto the eggs themselves, though they don't seem to do much for him, as he turns already to head back out from the direction from which he originally came - Donis and his pals getting a subtle second glance just before he passes back out of sight.

From the sands, Clinging to the crags of Cadgwith's neck, "She /looks/ done," Pyrene protests to Shaela, although how she's supposed to know isn't clear. Cadgwith makes a casual grunt at her rider. Quality, /not/ quantity, remember. Pyrene is slightly mollified. Chayath's eggs aren't Cadgwith's after all. And she watches the final egg appear with a resigned air and a grudging "Not bad."

Ralin pounces on down from the ledge above, grinning at all the people. Look at all the possible vitims. "Rena" He calls out, "Aren't they just something else?" he says having enjoyed watching it from the ledge."

Axle goes out.

"Oh shells." Donis groans at both the way Wyn draws attention to him, /and/ Chayath's deposit of a final egg. Pausing near the Weyrsecond, he whispers something to her, and hands over a mark-piece with a few more words.

Sylara looks over the set of eggs happily. Forty-seven in all, if you count the ones from Cadgwith's clutch. Definitely the best clutching she's ever seen. Of course, it's the first. "Wow." is all she can say.

Dominicke snickers softly to Wyn and nods faintly. "Wow, that egg is gorgeous." he notes, pointing to that very last egg and grinning. "So, I suppose we're all through here then, I'd better get along with my duties, "Congrats Wyn, I knew she'd lay more'n Cadgewith, because you said so." he snickers as he stands and watches people filter out.

Tatia walks out.

Wyn takes the mark and the information with an expression settled back into her usual gravity, and a solemn nod. Apparently whatever was said is enough to take her attention off the eggs, and off Dominicke past another absent nod, and onto some carefully-benign people-watching.

From the sands, L'uc turns his head to look at Shaela now. "She's not done yet?" Clearly this is a surprise to him. "And you're right about the grandsire.. Aboleoth will have to wait until the Hatching for that." Shaela's words are then thought about and he nods, heaving a sigh. "Jyd's bursting with pride already, I'd like to see him on Hatching day." Grin. The final egg is then glanced at. "Beautiful.."

Lirena scuffs into the galleries, trying hard not to be impressed by either eggs or dragons on the sands. Shards, being carted off to the weyr for one simple little prank. "It's not fair." she mutters, finding a spot at the top of the galleries and fingering a reed and some little round peas she stole from the kitchens. The final egg's been clutched and she's watching people file out. She waves to Ralin and pats a spot next to her. There's gotta be something they can find to do, somewhere?

Donis hurries down the gallery stairs, followed by three cronies /much/ larger than him.

Minding the Sands proper, you skirt the vast sea of heat to reach the relative safety of arched rock.
Sand's Edge

You go to the Northern Bowl.
Northern Bowl
Axle is here.

Sylara meanders in from the Sand's Edge.
Sylara steps out into the cold bowl, absolutely happy about the day. She's wearing a warm dress, about to get some klah, and has just seen a wonderful sight in a Clutching.

Axle meanders south 'neath spires' watchful spikes.

Heading south, you wander across the bowl beneath spires' watchful peaks.
Central Bowl
Tatia and Axle are here.

Donis appears in the entrance to the Hatching Grounds, accompanied by three rather large guards - not that it takes much size to be larger than Donis. The group stride purposefully across the bowl, headed towards someone in the middle distance. "Hey! You, Axle! Stop there!" Donis shouts at Axle.

Axle walking swiftly away from the galleries, Axle is careful to keep his gaze locked ahead of him, though he does have a rather unpleasant sinking feeling in his gut that suggests that something he'd rather not deal with happens to be following. Running a hand subtly down his side, his fingers run over the subtle shape of one knife under his shirt, and then the more obvious one perched on his belt. The third is out of sight, but not out of mind as his pace quickens a bit - then, of course, Donis has to go and spook him, and he takes off for the caverns at a sprint.

Tatia is coming in from sweeps - or possibly from skipping out on the massive hullabaloo that are clutchings. Either way, Vespurath sweeps down from above, backstroking for a rather pretty landing in the bowl - rather near the caverns, actually - and hunkering down to let Tatia dismount. Once done, the greenrider ducks under her lifemate's head to peer toward the ruckus.

Sylara meanders in from the north.

Donis's three cronies start to run, thundering after Axle. "Stop there!" Donis yells again, pelting after them as they chase Axle. "Stop that thief, someone!"

Sylara looks over at Donis as he yells. She's mildly relieved. So he /was/ up to something. "Is he /the/ thief?" She wonders aloud to no one in particular. This is an interesting development.

The curses muttered under Axle's breath are probably corrosive enough to take rust right off iron, but aside from a slight stumble halfway there, he doesn't slow. The big guys might be gaining on him, but he does lead a life that involves a *lot* of running away from people.

Rather convenient, really, that Tatia happens to be within a few paces of the 'Caverns entrance, and that she's got something to prove of late. That, and an inherent dislike of people she can't trust. A few steps take her right into Axle's path. She's tiny, to be sure, and probably run-right-overable. But there /is/ that matter of a hovering, anxious green dragon who follows, head lowered to stare the approaching Axle down with a 'c'mon, I /dare/ you' stare.

Donis doesn't have time to answer Sylara - he's running the whole length of the bowl at a pretty fast pace. All those sessions running up and down the stairs to the Star Stones seem to be paying off, and he's nearly caught up to his heavies - who've in turn nearly caught up to Axle.

Axle skids to a hasty halt and turns at a right angle to continue running as he brings knife #1 out - the big long nasty one that usually lives a uneventful life on his belt. The calculation of whether he should risk the dragon or the hulking guards behind him takes a milisecond to solve, because the answer really isn't that complicated: Neither. The cursing has been replaced by simple panting, though. He's getting tired.

Sylara watches horrified when Axle pulls out his knife. "He's just drawn a knife!" is yelled in the direction of the guards. Probably unneccessarily, but done nonetheless.

"You know, you're really not helping your case by running," Tatia points out, with just a hint of smugness as she stays planted firmly in Axle's way, backed up by Vespurath, who actually grows lowly as the knife makes an appearance.

"Put that down, lad," says one of the guards as the group catches up to Axle. Two of them bring out short truncheons from their belts; the one who spoke, an older, heavyset man with more than a few fingers of height on the thief, bangs sharply on Axle's arm to make him drop the knife. Donis, panting too much to speak, grabs Axle's other arm and twists it behind the man's back.

Axle cries out as his fingers open reflexively at the thump his arm receives, allowing the knife to spill from his fingers. Still in motion, he stoops to yank the third out of the side of his boot only to have that arm yanked and twisted behind his back. Still, they haven't done anything to his legs, and he doesn't hesitate to aim a sharp kick at the closest pair of shins he can reach.

Sylara moves a little closer. Not much, but she is headed that way anyway (or so she justifies it to herself)… She stays far enough away from the trouble to keep safe, but she wants to see what happens.

The shins were Donis's, and he yelps in pain - but hangs on grimly to Axle's arm. "Stop that. You're only making this worse for yourself," comments the oldest guard, holding tight to Axle's other wrist, and cuffing him across the shoulder with his free hand. "You're obviously guilty." Donis gestures to the other two heavies with a nod; they each take one of Axle's arms to free up Donis to confront him - at a reasonable distance.

Tatia steps back a pace or two as the gaurds take over, though she watches with unashamed interest. She moves to lean comfortably against Vespurath, and looks, quite frankly, amused as all get out at the goingson. "Oh, yeah," she comments sideways to her lifemate. "Guards'll /never/ catch him."

Axle doesn't plan on stopping, but he's clearly tired, and struggles only half-heartedly against the guards gripping his arms. "Please. Like you wouldn't run if you knew there were four big guys with clubs after your blood." Twisting his head, he spits at Tatia, his glare nothing short of furious.

Wyn meanders in from the north.

"So… Aren't you going to argue your innocence?" Donis demands of Axle, casting Tatia a lopsided grin at her comment. He fixes a frown onto his face though to direct at Axle. "Innocent men don't run." he points out, and darts around to Axle's side. "Hold him /tight/," he directs the other guards, and starts rummaging in Axle's pockets.

Tatia lifts her brows, and then her eyes narrow slightly at Axle's reaction. "They're not after your blood. Just stopping your twitchy fingers," she answers coolly. "It's not my fault you were stupid enough to confess, and then mock our guards."

Dominicke meanders in from the north.

"I'm not sure which was more stupid," one of the guards holding Axle remarks. "Mocking us, or running away?"

L'uc meanders in from the north.

"I'll argue plenty, but not when I'm stretched between two of your brainless drones like a bone between two dogs." Axle growls, his teeth bared nastily. Tatia is pointedly ignored as he gives another futile jerk of his shoulders.

Lirena meanders in from the north.
Sandrina walks in.
Ralin meanders in from the north.
Sandrina continues, heading north.

Donis finishes rummaging in Axle's pockets, and starts to frisk him instead, producing a knife from the man's boot, and another from inside his shirt. "Hmmm, no loot on you… I suppose you think that means we should let you go?" Donis taunts, standing well back again. "Well, sorry. Greenrider Tatia's sworn word is more than enough to get you a few days in the lock-up."

Wyn arrives shortly after all of the really good action has been gotten out of the way, but arrive she has. While normally such things as disposing of common thieves is delegated to the Steward, the weyrsecond's entitled to a little human curiosity, after all. "You do realize," she offers mildly in Axle's direction. "That such language is hardly going to endear you to them, and while they're too honourable to assist in any falls down stairs, you might consider the very wide range of holding cells you could be placed in."

Sylara watches warily, hoping this will be it. She starts eyeing the people wandering through, hoping they won't get in the way. But, she thinks to herself, Vespurath is a good deterent to anyone wishing to interfere. She loves living in the Weyr.

Sandrina meanders in from the north.

Tatia looks hurt. Really. Except for the part where she looks rather smug instead. Her arms cross over each other as she lounges against her dragon's forelimb, watching the procedeings. Really. Of all people, Tatia knows about biting your tongue to save yourself. Not that she ever exercises it.

Lirena follows along with other people kinda minding her own business, but casing the joint, the people and the dragons. It was kinda fun watching Nuff's gold charge into the party. Maybe it'll be worth it to see a few others fly.

"Show me a comfortable holding cell worth being polite for and I'll hold my tongue." Axle snaps, eyeing the newly arrived Wyn warily, dusty sweat dripping off his scruffy chin. He seems to have relaxed a bit (aside from one short attempt to stamp the man's toes to his right) physically, but his expression hasn't even begun to even out.

"Water.. water.." L'uc says to himself as he makes a bee line to the caverns. "Very hot. Very sweaty.." And it doesn't take him long until her disappears into the caverns and returns with a glass of ice cold water. The bronzer chugs most of it and ends up splashing the rest of it on his face. "Better.." The crowd is then observed and he steps closer, water droplets trickling down his face. Still, he's silent for the moment.

Dominicke wanders in from the galleries, along with most of the other people here, and just grins, wandering around to acclimate himself to the people. Hmm, does he know anyone here. Besides the people he was gambling with in the galleries? Possibly, he just hasta actually wander over to talk to someone. He does start to eyeball the guards and their proceedings first though, wow… Ick, poor Axle.

The way the two guards are holding Axle's arms can't be comfortable. Donis just smirks, tucking the man's knives away in his own belt. "Well now… we have a perfectly good cell in the ground weyrs. A nice big window so you can watch the world /and/ get some air at the same time. And the dragons can watch you, too." Donis casts a look towards Wyn, raising an eyebrow for approval.

Ralin glances around as he tails behind Lirena, it'd be fun to cause a little more mayhem. After all that's all there mother see's them as anymore. So why not live up to what she thinks of them? Hmm next target? Who should it be. He sneaks the reed adn a pea from Lirena and aims the pea into the crowd. No certain target, just a little fun.

Wyn merely continues to observe Axle, walking slowly around him and his captors with her hands clasped neatly behind her back, and carefully bland expression that's still just a trifle amused colouring her features. From where he can't see her, she allows that "I believe the politeness is to ensure that you might avoid some of the holding cells that are -not- comfortable. You are, after all, now on the suffrance of the Guard so far as things go for you." She walks around into view again, and gives Donis a confirming nod. "Indeed. Vorkoroth is rather curious."

A green dragon lands at the edge of the bowl and stays only long enough for her passenger to get down and unstrap the luggage before taking to the skies again. Sandrina tucks the rolled up tapestry under her arm and makes her way towards the crowd, hoping she is in time to catch the end of the clutching. Her riding jacket made of scrap leather sewn together covers her soaked shirt underneath and hides her shivering for the most part. "Shells, one of these days I'm going to do something those weyrbrats will never forget." She mutters and her grimace only gets deeper as she approaches the crowd. "So, have I totally missed the clutching?"

Sylara notices the lady disembarking near her, and turns slightly to answer. "Yes, you just missed it. If you want to go see the eggs, they are out on the sands." Her arms crossed, she turns her attention back to the scene in front of her, and watches that very /rude/ man get in trouble.

Axle doesn't comment as the other two knives (twins, how sweet) on his person are removed, but the fight seems to have gone out of him a bit. He's stubborn, but he's intelligent enough to know that he doesn't stand much of a chance against any of these guys without something pointy in his hand. Setting his jaw, he merely shifts his cold glare from face to face, refusing to say anything more.

Tatia has an excellent view of the proceedings, since she and Vespurath are still neatly blocking the entrance to the Caverns. "What, nothing in the deep, dank portions, with no sunlight and a nice musty scent?" Tatia questions of Donis. "After all, he does seem to be rather unrepentent of his crime."

L'uc turns towards Sandrina and decides that leading her away from an incident like this would be good. "Ah, hello.." he says to her, quickly drying his face with his sleeves. Clearing his throat, he then takes a step towards her. "Yes, the clutching is finished. Would you care to go up to the Galleries and see them?" And he's even offering to take her up there.

Lirena tries to see the pea strike someone or something, but it's too small and people are moving around too much. She grins at Ralin and pulls out another pea from her pocket. She palms the reed and looks around. There's that scruffy looking man who's being held by the guards. He couldn't touch them at the moment, could he? Or maybe one of the guards. They're busy… oh, wait, there's that stableboy who never caught them in the first place. She aims and splat… one gets Dominicke right in the back of his head.

"Unrepentant would certainly be the word," Donis replies thoughtfully to Tatia. "But we've generally found that having a view of the bowl - and any thread falling above it - tends to quell some of the more criminal elements around." He shrugs. "Well, let's not mess around. March him to the cell, please." The guards holding Axle just grin, and one kicks at the back of Axle's leg. "March, boy."

"Grmph…" Axle's leg gives out at the kick and he only just manages to catch himself to keep pace with the guards at his sides lest he be simply dragged along.
Axle abandons the bowl for ground weyr's shelter.

Sylara abandons the bowl for ground weyr's shelter.

Open sky is exchanged for protecting stone.
Ground Weyrs
Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened in aeons past by who-knows-what to provide shelter for injured dragons and their mates. Craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, sloping back from the weather-open entrance to a low opening into the infirmary itself. Stacked under rock-shaded cover are low supply chests of sturdy timber, flanked with long tables. Other openings are shaded by wherhide curtains, leading to smaller, private caverns for the dragonhealers' patients.
You see Guards' Lock-up here.
Axle and Sylara are here.

Wyn comes into shelter from bowl's wide open spaces.

Donis unlocks and unbolts the door of the wooden lock-up situated in a corner of the ground weyrs. "In you go…" one of Axle's captors says as they shove him in.

Axle thumps rather ungracefully in on his knees, his face just stopping short of hitting the ground as he pushes himself back up onto his feet to peer around the enclosure through narrowed eyes. "So when are you guys going to figure out that you don't have any proof and have to let me go?"

Wyn seems quite fascinated by the proceedings, at least to the point of settling on a ledge that gives her a view in through the barred section of the door. "Mmm, no of course he wouldn't be repentant." the ex-mindhealer muses with a slight smile to herself. "After all, I don't believe he was stealing so much out of need as perhaps out of some need to display his distaste for authority… and do explain to him your proof, Donis?"

Donis slides the bolts and relocks the door, and nods to Wyn. "Indeed, Weyrsecond… He was stealing such a lot of wine that he'd be drunk every day if it was just to drink." Though the guard might be exaggerating. "And all the proof we need, Axle, is greenrider Tatia's sworn word. This is a /Weyr/. If you live here, you show respect to the dragonriders and indeed, to /everyone/ who lives here." Donis relieves his feelings with a kick to the lock-up door. "Unfortunately, I'm not being allowed to detain you that long. But you'll have long enough to do some thinking - if you're capable. Evidence says not."

Sylara is fascinated by this whole thing. She's heard of lock-ups and how people get in trouble, of course, what Pernese child hasn't been detered by threats of this sort, but this is her first real experience of seeing it first-hand. She uncrosses her arms, and lets one hang loosely by the side. The other is set on her hip, expectantly. She asks the question she asked before, but either was not heard or was ignored in the kuffuffle. "Is this /the/ thief?"

"Evidence says everything. I wouldn't put it past several of your riders who don't like the way I treat them to make up an arrogant confession just to see me locked away. You can't lock somebody up to teach them manners, Donis." His voice harsh and growling, he smooths down his front as he peers past Donis to eye Wyn, and then Sylara.

"Perhaps I shall have to devise some form of…" Wait for it, wait for it… "Therapy." Wyn settles on. "After all, he's a dreadful drain on weyr resources as he is, either locked up or free." At the eyeing, she merely offers a gently smile and returns to her musing. "You will, of course, be searching his cot and clothespress for evidence of other… activities in this vein?"

"So you and I agree on something - you need to learn some manners." Donis replies to Axle with his eyes narrowed. With a nod of his head, the other guards are dismissed - Sylara receives a quick shake of his head, though whether it's an answer or a request to stay quiet isn't clear. "Oh, I'll certainly be searching, Wyn. And not just Axle's belongings."

Sylara shrugs, and lets her other hand drop. She feels a little vindicated…after all, she's had a gut feeling about him from the time she met him. But she also doesn't want /anyone/ to suffer too long. "How long's he gonna be in there?" She asks. If that was a signal to be quiet, she didn't catch it.

"Search away, you won't find anything." He'd be a shabby thief indeed if he hadn't seen something like this coming after his conversation with Tatia and dispersed his belongings around deserted storage caverns like an angry little squirrel. The comment on respect gets no reply, though the mention of therapy does bother his interest. "Therapy? The only therapy I need is a bath and a massage after that little ordeal." Breaking eye contact, he moves to the back of the cell to flop down on the cot with a groan.

Donis will allow /that/ sort of question from Sylara, though he turns to generally frown at all the gawkers. Wyn gets a raised eyebrow though, and a murmur of "Therapy?" before he answers Sylara. "Oh, about five days. He'll get fed twice a day, and someone will empty his slop bucket out. Probably."

"Ooooh, denial, excellent!" Wyn seems quietly elated, clapping her hands together twice and hopping off of the ledge to do some petite pacing, Vorkoroth's love of plotting apparently having found a fertile match in his lifemate, albeit with slightly more constructive purpose in Wyn. "Yes, we're going to have a lot of good ground to cover, I believe. I shall return later. Good work, Donis." And then Wyn begins to wander away, contentedly going over things mindhealerish in her head.

Axle stretches out on the cot, probably making a dirt angel on the sheets as he brings his arms back down to his sides and sighs, peering dimly at the ceiling as he listens to Wyn make her way out a little too gleefully for his comfort. "If any of you see Raja and are feeling generous, you might inform her as to my location. The same goes for M'nty. I'd like to speak to him." And then he falls silent, and it's unlikely that they're going to get anything else out of him.

Sylara watches Wyn leave and wonders what "therapy" is. But, she looks back quickly at Axle. "Five days, huh. That's a good amount of time." She says, softly, more to herself, than anyone else. More loudly she says, "I can tell Raja, Axle." She /does/ see her on a fairly regular basis. She turns to leave.

"M'nty won't be able to help you," Donis remarks rather snidely, and starts to shoo away all the onlookers, pausing to whisper to Sylara: "I don't know if he's /the/ thief or not - we'll have to see if the thefts stop now. Don't mention it to anyone else, please?"

Wyn goes home.

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