Krummolt walks in from the Central Bowl.
See that good booze table over in the corner? This month, it is ALL CHEY'S. And Frusha's, but Chey likes to pretend Frusha doesn't exist. Accordingly, Chey has actually appropriated around half of the bottles from the good booze table, and had them arrayed in a little starburst pattern on the table in front of her. Her glass is empty, and she seems content with that. Her head is tilted sideways, laying on the table, and she peers blearily at a lot of fine liquor.
Krummolt strides into the living caverns and starts across the room. He makes it far enough to grab a small bowl and scoop out a handful of nuts. As he goes to pick up a thoroughly common mug of ale, he spots Chey and her astonishing array of alcohol. His eyes narrow for a moment, then he nods to himself and desists with his own drink, bringing only the empty cup and resolving to mooch off the rather drunken looking Weyrwoman. He comes up to the table and drops the bowl with a little thunk. "Hey, Chey. I'll share my nuts with you if you share your booze."
Shazi walks in from the Central Bowl.
"You propositioning me, Grampa?" Chey asks, tilting her head to grin up at Krummolt. It's a bit of a lopsided grin. "Don't think your nuts'd be worth much if you had much of the booze, really. But sure. Sit. How's… stuff?"
"Hah," Krummolt replies, plopping heavily into a seat at Chey's table and appropriating a bottle to pour a mugful of hard liquor for himself. He lifts the mug to sip appreciatively at the vintage of whiskey upon which he seems intent on overindulging upon and snorts. "Ain't nothin' gonna keep my nuts down for long," he asserts, probably untruthfully. "Stuff's good. I like ordering recruits around all day. You?"
Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Scattered about in various perches and niches are twenty-two firelizards.
Chey, Krummolt, and Shazi are here.
"Weyr's going to hell," Chey answers genially enough. She pushes upright and pours herself another shot of something tequilaish. "My job sucks. Frusha sucks. Everyone sucks. But it's okay. Cause /I/ get the good booze." She downs the shot.
Scan scan scan. "Oh! Hey." Don't mind as Il'ad butts into whatever conversation it is that his sergeant and Weyrwoman might be happen. He has IMPORTANT information. "I figured out who ripped open all those bags in the stores and left a mess. I have his head on a stick outside if you want to see. Seriously. I do."
Jesha wrangles like the sexy little brownrider she is in from the Central Bowl.
Krummolt sips good whiskey like bad booze. In fact, it appears to be a bit much at one go even for him, and he has to take a moment to cough discretely into his hand. "Ah, well, things ain't so bad. You get to order bad things for the people who piss you off, right?" Only then does he look around at Il'ad and lift a hand in something between a wave and salute. This far off duty, he doesn't feel the need to rise, however. "Ah, cap'n, you beheaded someone and you didn't call me?" he asks with mock reproach. Probably mocking, anyway, since Il'ad is probably kidding.
Chey brightens at Il'ad's approach. "Really? I — wait. You killed someone without asking me?" She looks distinctly upset at this. "Captain, you need to ask me or the Weyrleader first! You can't just kill people out of hand!"
"Something, yes. Some big fluffy black thing. Weasel? Or-something? I don't know my animals. I know, I suck. But, it dun' matter cause it's DEAD NOW!" Il'ad even tries one of those evil cackles for kicks but ends up hacking into a fist instead. FAIL. "If you want some mittens though out of it, better get it fast 'fore all those bugs eat it alive—or you know, dead. Whatever. You know what I mean."
As ever, Jesha is completely oblivious to whatever may be going on around her. She trips in on her own plane, head in the clouds and humming to herself. Salutes are, of course, given (though half-assedly) before she taps one of her wingriders on the shoulder. He turns, she steals a muffin off his place. Ha ha, Jesha strikes again!
It seems that despite the warnings from Weyrsecond Shazi to stay clear of the Living Caverns and the central bowl, Hari is risking it, slipping in from the outside, cutting around the edge of the cavern as she attempts to get to the kitchen. Its snack time. Watching those immediately around her every step of the way, she's attempting to make herself seem as inconspicuous as a six-foot and a bit tall girl can do, fingers on her shoulder to hide the white knot that was, in a way, forced on her by Il'ad. Il'ad who happens to catch her attention, causing her to freeze and stare in his general direction after his outburst.
Krummolt rolls his eyes at Il'ad and reaches out to grab on of his whiskey-nuts. His brief foray into the realm of the unsubtle double entendre apparently forgotten, he tosses one of the small, salty nuts at his captain, apparently in protest of Il'ad's sense of humor. "Bah. Maybe good for target practice or something,"
"Oh." Chey considers this. "Well, killing weasels is fine. But we need to talk to the herders about getting some canines in to hunt them, or… something. We don't need rodents stealing our grain. Are weasels rodents? Whatever. We don't need anyone stealing our — who is /that/?" Her eyes have fallen on Hari. And she looks displeased.
…he says, flipping another nut at Il'ad in apparent illustration.
"It was an easy kill. Thing kind of stopped and stared at me like her," Il'ad points out, staring right on back at Hari, but with pointing! "Waitwait, a little higher." Il'ad apparently wants to catch one of those salty nuts in his mouth because he loooves those salty nuts. "Do canines hunt them or would felines? My canines that I've got in the barracks only wanted to play with them. Or maybe? I don't know. "Her? She's, uh, you know, for Frusha. I gave her a verbatim. Wait, that's not the right word. Hold on."
Pilfered snack in hand, Jesha ambles her way over to generic_empty_seat type thing, stopping only to ruffle her daughter's hair. The generic_seat turns out to be a bench and is thusly straddled (and conveniently not far from the chattering group). Greetings given and she is satisfied to regard Chey with an inscrutiable frown. And a hmm.
Hari is suddenly trapped as there's suddenly a woman looking straight at her. A woman who happens to be wearing the Senior Weyrwoman's knot - which she was definitely told to avoid. As Chey begins to question who she is, she's backing up, back towards the wall, trying to keep moving - if she keeps moving perhaps they'll forget all about her, right?
Krummolt looks around at Hari and frowns. "I dunno, off hand," he admits, though he doesn't seem overly concerned by this particular assertion. "She new?" he wonders in Il'ad's direction. "Reporting to the guard? I ain't noticed her there, but that doesn't mean anything for sure." His next sip of his whiskey is a little more cautious than his first.
Chey turns a look of frozen fury on Il'ad. Really, frozen might be the wrong word. Fury is not, though. There is a lot of fury. She pushes to her feet abruptly, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. "Does /no/ one in this place listen when I /say/ something?" She slams her open palm down on the table with a thunderbolt crack of sound. "I said /no/ outside searching. I /meant/: NO OUTSIDE SEARCHING. She is from OUTSIDE. What is /wrong/ with people?" She swivels abruptly. "YOU," she says to Hari. "Get over here. NOW."
Feilan walks in from the Central Bowl.
Hari freezes tensing and trying to shrink down a little but. And then the full fury of Chey is unleashed and she's slowly turning back, shuffling closer. "I'm.. I'm from here." Hari attempts to to volunteer, though her voice squeaks a little bit, and as she's staring at her feet, she's basically betraying herself.
"Isn't there a word for option that kind of sounds like verbatim?" Yes, Il'ad is still trying to remember his vocabulary words. "Maybe I was thinking of prerogative." Because that rhymes with verbatim now. "Whatever. You know, they key to avoid an attack is to remain very very still." Because raptors rely on movement, right? Something like that. "Don't worry 'bout her. She's not really from outside. Her brother's a rider here. So, that makes heryou know. Uhafug." Er. "I think it was before you said that, anyway." But, that's about the most he can do to help the girl now. "But see?"
"The hell you say," Chey snaps. Her eyes are on fire, and she advances a step towards Hari, staring her anger into the young woman. "Do you know what I think?" Her voice is oddly gentle here, for a balanced fraction of a second. That second ends too soon. "I think that you are a spy. KRUMMOLT." Her head snaps back to the guard sergeant. "We have a spy here." She turns to stare back at Hari. "Execute her for me. Now."
Krummolt stares at Il'ad. "I don't think I understood a word ya just said," he denies the greenrider with a blank face. Then he gives his head a little shake and looks on towards Chey and Hari with a faintly sadistic gleam in his eyes, dark above the rim of his mug as he sits again and settles in for what promises to be, to him, a satisfying reaming of someone other than him. He is watching with glee when Chey makes her order. The atomization of that much good whiskey is surely a crime in its own right, as the Weyrwoman appears to have caught him thoroughly off guard. Luckily, the spray is only over his own lap. Between a few quick hacking coughs, he manages to get out, "Ex…execute…her?"
Jesha buries her face in her hands, a few crumps dropping from her thin fingers and clinging to hanks of her chestnut hair. "Oh shaards, here we go again." This is, of course, muttered, barely audible through the muffling protection of her palms. Which lasts only a moment before she bolts to her feet. "WEYRWOMAN. At the risk of insubordination, you DISHONOR your dragon and this weyr with your attitude. Execute a young girl chosen on Search? What is going through your head?! Didn't we just get through total lack of logic with Frusha? What are you THINKING, if anything at all?!" Consid
Considerable volume: Check. Lack of caring for consequences: Double check.
Hari flicks her gaze to Il'ad, nodding ever so lightly, as if to give a silent, understated thank you for at least trying to stand up for her. But then Chey is stepping after her and she's rocking back on her heels, glancing down a bit at the senior, blinking. "Ma'am.." She starts, before the order is given and her jaw drops, though at least she doesn't cry. Before she can do anything else, there's another voice entering the battle and despite her best instincts, she's turning to look at this new source, wincing a bit, biting her lip.
Feilan wanders right into…an execution? Really, it's a good thing he's not in uniform right now. He's not really big on the whole..punishment thing. It's a slightly unsteady gait that takes him halfway across the cavern, quite possibly in the direction of food before he does finally manage a stop. Redirecting himself, he scurries right around and over to his fellow guards, voice lowering somewhat. "Erm..Captain? Sergeant? We don't actually..uh../do/ that, do we?" Because really, someone should've told him about the execution rule when he signed up! His gaze flickers right to Jesha as she yells, swallowing somewhat. Oooh..boy.
Oh, this is not going good. One hand lifts to rub at the side of his face before being elevated in a 'just hold up a second' gesture. To Krummolt, he says "I don't think I did either." And to Chey, he just says "/CHEY/." You know, in one of those stern fatherly tones. He can do those now! If only Pernese had middle and last names. Jesha's good, which is why he lets her speak before he does. "Think about your reputation if you follow through with this, Weyrwoman." And titles! Oh my! "Do you really want to go down in history like Lord Fax?" Eeeeverybody knows about that loon, right? At Feilan's entrance, Il'ad gives him the 'I'm handling this' gesture before continuing with "Think. About. What. You. Just. Said. You want to /execute/ a young woman without rhyme nor reason."
Chey turns that furious aze to Jesha. She listens without interruption to the wingleader's attack, then turns to look at Il'ad, this time. "And arrest Jesha. Now. I want her /brigged/ for insubordination." Her face is flushed. The flush of anger, for sure, is there. But the flush of drunkenness, too. "And I HAVE reason. She is a SPY. Reputation… I don't care about reputation. People seem determined to let this Weyr collapse in tatters. I /will not have it/. I will /not/. Pern needs to… to /know/. We are /not/ going to lie down and take this. We /will/ fight back. This is a /dangerous/ game. Let's /show/ them how dangerous!"
Chey would give that little "Who's with me!" rallying shout, but some part of her /knows/ the silence that would follow.
Krummolt spends another few minutes hacking, putting his cup down on the table and looking between Chey and Hari. He glances only briefly at Jesha, who, well, doesn't really have the authority to tell him to do anything. Feilan's commentary earns the younger recruit a frown. "Best get used to dirty hands, boy. Oughta make you do it," he says, half in threat, as he rises to his feet slowly, becoming a towering mass of guardly intimidation. For all that he is getting old, he is still in alarmingly good shape. "Weyrwoman, if I may suggest; let me take the girl for…questioning." The little pause before the word is anything but reassuring. "I'll find out who sent her."
"Oh for the love of the first shell, spy on what? I think everyone can see you drink yourself into a stupor, give out paranoid and disconnected commands." Jesha breathes, attempting to calm herself though pink still stains her cheeks with contained fury. "Chey. I have adored you as a good woman with a good head for many turns now. You helped us get past the damage weyrwoman Fruscha's leadership did. You made people calm down and get together again. Do you want to destroy that? You are young enough to be my daughter and I swear by the shell of my dragon I would take you over my knee if that's what it took to knock some sense into that pickled brain of yours."
Is she distracted? As Chey seems to be caught up in "discussion" as it were with the other riders and the guards, Hari's taking that moment to take a slow step backwards, hoping to put a bit of distance between herself and the Weyrwoman. "Not a spy.." She mutters, looking left and right before Krummolt gets a look of shock, and she's shaking her head, though it seems that Jesha is the best one to hide behind, and that's the way she's now edging slowly, silently.
"You want me to arrest my mother-in-law?!" Say whaa? "GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, WOMAN!" Yes, Il'ad is raising his voice nose. He can do that too! "You've gone absolutely MAD!" Srsly. "If you want to justify yourself, then bring the girl to trial if you think she's a spy." Krummolt is nodded at in lieu of his offering. "Find your evidence and /then/, if she's a spy, my guards will be more than willing to act upon your command. And the only way our Weyr will collapse in tatters is by your reigning /right now/. Listen to what you're sharding saying. There is no war here! The only one at war here is yourself You're paranoid!" Jesha is now given the hand. "Please."
Chey's look at Jesha here is scornful, as much as anything. "You could surely /try/," is all she says to this last. Il'ad gets a glare. "You're fired," she says. Krummolt's idea, though, catches on. "Ah. Yes. Good. That's a… good idea. We should find out. Krummolt, you're the new guard captain. Information is a weapon, right? Did someone say that? Once we know, we can make it a public execution. An example."
Chey adds, "And arrest Jesha, Krummolt."
Feilan does give Krummolt a slight frown, brows furrowing just a little bit. He keeps a handle on his own mouth though, sending a quick look between his superior officers. He's off duty, after all, unless they happen to need him, and the teen clears his throat just a little. At least he keeps an eye on Hari as the girl starts to edge away..well, until Chey starts firing and promoting people left and right. "Wha..?"
Krummolt stares at Chey for a moment. Then, "Yes, ma'am." Those who aren't totally pickled will probably be able to recognize that there is a faint ironic tinge to his tone, but he trusts the general deadpan to satisfy Chey, particularly when he turns back to the room. "Come on, now," he says, moving towards Jesha and Hari, his hands spread slightly, but still well away from his knife. "Let's go down to the brig and we'll…get all this sorted out." He widens his eyes slightly at the pair, apparently trying to impart a hint.
One of Jesha's arms slinks behind her to squeeze Hari's trembling hand reassuringly. "Arrest me. Whatever. Like I even *care* at this point. Oh sure, let's jump at shadows and blame the cook and the drudges and send us all into questioning by force. Whoopie /that'll/ accomplish sooo much. You'll end up with sands full of eggs and no one there to stand and Impress. All because you can't get it through your drunken idiotic skull that maybe, just maybe, some of us are confronting you because we care."
"Great. Wonderful. I'll pack my bags now and go retire down at Ista." It's a good turnday gift for twenty nine turns and Il'ad's all about it. His grand exit would be a better show if he were able to unpin his knot easily. It gets stuck.
Chey flings her tequila glass across the room, where it shatters noisily against the wall. "I AM THE WEYRWOMAN!" she bellows at the room as a whole. "No one sharding FORGET that!" And, with that, she turns to stalk (stumbling a little) away.
There is yelling, more yelling, firings, hirings, and then knots are being pulled off, and Hari just stands there, before nodding slowly at Jesha though she looks at Krummolt with wide eyes. And she's slowly backing up further before there's a glass being thrown across the cavern, and Hari is wincing, watching her go, before looking to the other riders, quite unsure of what just happened, or what to do.
Feilan gives a little groan, bringing a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Of all the.." he mutters lowly to himself, although stands rigidly still as Chey bellows and throws things. He clears his throat then, tongue making a brief pass over his lips, and then turns to look at Krummolt advancing on Jesha and Hari. "Er…you need any help, Serge—er….Captain?"
Krummolt holds his teeth clenched and winces as Jesha continues. "Shut /up/," he hisses at Jesha, Il'ad, Hari and any other riders mumbling in his vicinity, "'til she sleeps it off." He makes little shooing gestures at Jesha and Hari, apparently trying to herd them out of the room without actually grabbing and hauling them away to the jail by force. "I hope not, but come anyway," he says, more openly, to Feilan.
"You." grates Jesha, her eyes aflame, "Are a paranoid drunken sot with less sense than a babe. So help me if you choose to exile me, I will not go down without a fight. Do you even LIKE High Reaches? Do you love your dragon or simply what she represents in the caste of our kind? Let me know when you've decided to scorchin' grow up and act your age and your rank and not sabotage my home and my people." In the meantime, Krummolt is given a salute of his own: One finger. Bing!
"Yeah yeah, you are the Weyrwoman, hear you roar. And we all were quick to jump on the fact that Frusha was the crazy one," Il'ad murmurs under his breath as he finally gets his knot off and waggles it at Krummolt. "Nice knowing you, Weyrwoman. I'm transferring. Have a nice life—as long as it lasts before someone suffocates you in your sleep." It's not a threat, honest. Krummolt is given a grin… and that's it aside from a helpless shrug and a muttered, "I'll be in my weyr."
Chey steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.
Feilan gives his head a quick shake, and a wince as Jesha continues her own tirade. Oi..really, what /did/ he get himself into, joining up here? Hefting a sigh, he gives a nod as Krummolt offers for him to come along. "Yessir." Il'ad's departure is met with a slight frown though, brows furrowing.
Apparently, Jesha's tirade has exceeded Krummolt's tolerance. "Rider," he says softly, now looming directly over Jesha. "Come now." His eyes are cold, hard, unforgiving and angry. "A drunken order's still and order, and I'm taking you back 'til she sleeps it off, or the Weyrleader comes to spring you." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "But you best believe I'll send a runner to 'im." Actually, at that thought, he looks around at Feilan. "There's a job, recruit.
Hari is more than willing to let the rest of them do the talking, instead just standing there as it seems as if the Weyr itself is beginning to come apart at the seams, and sort of because of her. As Krummolt moves to usher them on, she's nodding slowly, just following as she stares at the others, watching Krummolt for a moment, before shaking her head. "Where am I going? Can I tell R'hard?"
Jesha rolls her eyes and steps back to allow Hari to pass in front of her. "Oh, so you're going to behead an innocent kid now too just because Crazy von Crazypants can't stop pouring hooch down her gullet? I'm /fairly/ certain that me opening my big mouth, while awesome, is not against the laws, whatever they may be these day. Crackin' shells, boy, isn't part of guard honor standing up for what's right?" Her face twists at Krummolt, staring him down. "Justice my milky white tush. Good to know y'all are yes-men. At least Il'ad had the stones to tell you to eff off."
Feilan seems to become a little more aware as he's actually given something to do. A quick nod is given in response though. "Right.. Yeah I'll do that." At least it gives him a reason to move rather quickly out of the caverns, despite not eating as he'd come to do in the first place. He can always do that later. Turning on heel, the recruit darts right on out, speeding off as best he can.
"That's it." Krummolt reaches out to grab for Jesha's upper arm with a powerful, ham-hand intent on squeezing too tight. "We're going to the /brig/ where you two are going to spend the night for the crime of getting our Weyrwoman to embarrass herself in public. Where T'ii can get you out whenever /he/ wants. If you shut up, I coulda got us outta here quiet like, but NO," he grumbles as he goes to lead Jesha and Hari out. "When Feilan gets back, he can run to let R'chard know what's up. Or another recruit. Whatever. Just come ON."
Hari takes a deep breathe before she's slowly trudging along, biting her lip. Thankfully, there are still no tears. Instead it seems that she's decided to deal with whatever she managed to get herself into. "Yes sir.." She murmurs, barely audibly as she looks almost wistfully over her shoulder at the others who are left to do as they want, as it were.
"Yeah, /we/ did that. She wasn't totally embarassing herself in the first place." A few truncated attempts by Jesha are made to reclaim her arm, but to no avail. "I swear on the life of my dragon, though, if you harm that poor scared little candidate I will find some way to … do … something. Just don't. She's innocent. Take it out on me. And I ain't gonna just not say somethin' when someone I care for like a daughter, rank or no, is acting the fool."
"I'm not going to do /anything/," Krummolt informs Jesha with some exasperation. Nothing like the protestation of innocence of a man habitually guilty but presently innocent. "Faranth's aching egg hole, I just want to get you two out of sight for the night!"
Snrrrrk. "That's a good one, Guard. Faranth's aching egg hole." The words roll around in Jesha's mouth and the remainder of her fury dissipates into just a slight seethe. "Got any others you can teach me while I have to deal with gruel and uncomfortable mattresses?"
Hari seems to relax just a little bit as Krummolt says there's not going to be any actual harm, at least for the time being, and she's nodding slowly, though she's stealing sidelong glances at Jesha, letting the older rider rant all she wants, she'll just float along. Please, forget about her?
Ground Weyrs
Once a mere overhang in the bowl wall, this arched stone enclave was deepened eons past to provide shelter for injured dragons and their riders. Once past the bowl's entrance, the cavern widens and climbs dramatically. The craggy walls loom high to dwarf rider and dragon alike, darkening slowly towards the back, ending at the large doors of the infirmary and the dragon-sized tunnel leading to the enclosed, inner ground weyrs. Off to the right is the dragonhealers' enclave with its supplies and small handful of dragon couches.
Small cave-like weyrs of various sizes dot the rocky walls of the large cavern at close intervals, giving the area its name. Heavy lengths of wherhide, providing both privacy and increased shelter, curtain off the weyrs' openings.
To the northeast, you see eight dragons.
Settled on rough-hewn ledge is a brown firelizard.
You see The Brig here.
Jesha and Hari are here.
Hari continues to lean there for another moment before slowly folding herself down to the floor, sighing softly and shaking her head. "I.. I think okay. Dickie.. he always talked about honor. I didn't know what to expect." And then she's idly drawing figures on the ground, before looking back at Jesha. "I'm not sure why I'm a candidate, other than he'd never let me be a guard." Her poor brother, stuck with her as the little sister he has to watch out for, now of all times.
A soft smile is tipped at Hari and Jesha gives her an assessing look. "You were searched, I'd imagine, for the same reasons most are searched. Though it's hard to say when things are so crazy. You've got potential, kid, and if you want to be a guard you be a guard. Just… when the current guards are not such fu…. oh speak of the devil. Hey, Il'ad. Come to give us thin gruel and scratchy blankets?"
There's a faint whistle and the familiar uniform of a Reachian guard—but it's probably the last person anyone within the brig might expect. One finger is held up to his lips as Il'ad waggles a set of keys out in front of him while shaking his head before slipping one into the lock on the brig. And he's actually grinning? Decadre, being we'll pretend he was here before, is given a quick chin-nod towards. "Came to break you guys out because I can." Literally.
"He just told me to stand, or be a guard. And.. I don't really want to be a guard." Hari admits, before there's a jingle of keys, and Hari is looking with a rather shocked expression at the rider who has appeared, quickly trying to get to her feet, brushing her pants off just a bit, though she's taking his motion quite literally, too cautious to even squeak.
Decadre is doing his best imitation of seriousness. Admitedly that's gotten better over the years but after a properly serious return nod to Il'ad he simply greets the man, "Captain," With a much more characteristic smile. Apparently either Deca didn't get the memo or chooses to forget he got the memo.
"You, Il'ad, are the best quasi-son and father of my child ever." Audible creaks and pops accompany Jesha's rising and she offers a hand to her cellmate for help in finishing the rising motion. "I think Hari here will need a place to hunker down for a day or two in case WHER-woman (Ooooh insult) from the tar pits of the south decides that her pretty little head should stay where it is."
Feilan hass been running. Running all over the place! Although, at some point in that stretch of time, he's managed to rather haphazardly fall into his uniform. Still trying to fumble with buttons, the recruit rushes a bit down the tunnel, and comes rather close to simply running right into Il'ad's back. "Captain!" Thereafter comes a slight wince, fingers brushing up through his hair a little. "Er..Il'ad." Well, that is the rider's name, after all. The jangling keys get his attention though, fixating on them before his mouth drops back open. "What..are ya doing?"
"Hey Deca." It's easier to greet than deny the title that no longer belongs to Il'ad. "You didn't see this, alright?" he says as the door swings open, but quietly as to avoid the squeakiness that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. "You didn't either," is offered to Feilan with /a look/. "You too, don't you think?" is asked of Jesha with a raised brow. "Maybe we should all just skip the continent before her HIGHNESS has an aneurysm and blames it on a drudge."
Hari is quick to move to help Jesha to her feet, giving her a little bit of a bow as she's on her feet. Even as the cell door is open, she's sort of standing there, rather dumbfounded, looking from Jesha to Il'ad, and then to the other guards. Only after biting her lip, as if contemplating if its better to stay or go, is she slowly sneaking out. Better not to let her brother find her here.
Decadre's blue eyes go round. "See what? I don't see anything. I'm just on patrol, nothing unusual just the usual spread of dragonriders going about their usual bussines," Decadre's expression is one of complete innocence. One that he's had much practice with over the years though it normally gives way to mischief. Today he demonstrates his ability to sustain it.
"Yeah, I might spend a couple days in Ista chillin' with Bajiren and his dad. Can't hurt. I owe him anyway. Plus I should give Lanti a winkwink since we made awesome dragons recently." An arm is forced through Hari's and Jesha steps over the threshhold to FREEDOM, dragging the hapless candidate with her. "Should I take Jedi with me, spend some QT while we're at it? Haven't been so good with that lately." Decadre is given a broad wink and nod. "Good man. Ain't nothin' goin' on here but .. um .. patrollythings."
Feilan does in fact look rather conflicted. Hey, it's his /job/ to not ignore this, right? After a moment though, he gives a turn, kicking the nearest wall once. "Il'ad, I /swear/ if I lose my job over this, I'm gonna punch ya right in the face." Hey, the rider currently isn't captain, after all. He can threaten with bodily harm! Hands stuff into his pockets then. "Didn't see anything, yeah."
"Maybe you could stay with your brother. He can at least 'fend for you better than I can," Il'ad says with a little snort to Hari. "That's some good training right there," is then murmured to the women as the greenrider thumbs towards Decadre with a little grin. But then that grin turns into a grimace. "Okay, I don't need to be reminded that you boinked my /sister/." Dude. DUDE. "Don't drop by 'cause that's where I plan on visiting and I don't need any awkward moments, 'kay?" One shudder later and Il'ad nods his head. "Good idea. I have to pick up Lilly anyway. This is just coincidental." You know, the fact that Il'ad's skipping the continent. "Feilan. You're not going to lose your job over this. And I bet you ten marks that /I/ don't really lose my job over this. I've known Chey my entire life, and my best friend is the /Weyrleader/. Enough said."
"Hopefully.." Hari murmurs, though it seems that she's already attempting to figure out somewhere else - best not to give the poor brownrider anything else to stress about. As she's escorted out by Jesha, she shakes her head slightly, letting them gossip as she's heading to duck out to the bowl. Lets just actually do as Shazi says and avoid Chey, how about that?
Decadre shakes his head and gives Feilan a grin. "You were somewhere else. I certainly don't remember seeing you on my patrol." Decadre looks away and gives a short innocent whistled. Cover for one, cover for all of them. "Things change pretty quick around here… then change back. You learn to roll with it." Though it had taken him a while to deal with the volatile environment himself.
"Bah, it won't be awkward, Il'ad! Just because I've tagged you, your sister, and gave birth to your weyrmate! How can you imagine that I'd make things peculiar!" BEAM. "Besides, I'll be busy giving Bajiren piggyback rides and reminding Jedi that she actually has a mom. Hari, you'll probably be fine. I'd put a mark on that she doesn't remember you in the morning. Still, might want to spend the night with your brother or in the guest quarters at the Hold."
Feilan rubs both hands over his face, and then just shakes his head, laughing a little. "Yeah yeah. You'd better get your job back though, Il'ad. Krummolt's just a bit too stiff for me, ya know?" Not that the man is a /bad/ guy or anything. Decadre is given a quick look though, a faint smirk twisting his lips. "Heh. Yeah yeah. I got it. Never down here at all."
"I'm not hearing this, la la la," says Il'ad as he covers up his ears as Jesha speaks, but it's only a moment later that he's walking to the outside of the groundweyrs, if only to scoop up a pink stuffie and toss it into the cell, locking it back up just a moment later. "Ten to one this ends up being just a bad dream for Chey. She won't remember half of it in the morning. And maybe I'll still have a job."
Hari pauses to nod at Jesha, even as she decides she's had enough of the conversation that goes over her head. "Thank you.." She offers as an afterthought before darting outside, to hide and hope for the best. And to hope she can keep her head.
"And now that I've made Il'ad taste puke in his mouth, I am going to get my stuff together so I can hide out for a few days until this blows over. Guards. Rider. Hari-the-kid." Jesha executes three bows and waves. "I'm gettin' the shards out of this place. You can't catch me, feds!" Cackling she darts for the bowl and, ostensibly, her dragon.
Jesha leaves the ground weyrs for the wide-open central bowl.
Decadre shakes his head. "I had probably better move on, on my patrol…" Decadre admits. With both women gone, there seems little enough reason to linger here. And besides large gatherings are much easier to notice than single people.
Hari goes home.
"Yeah, so—yeah. I guess I'll see you guys later. Maaaaybe," Il'ad grins crookedly and tosses up a half-salute before following after Jesha. "Stay out of trouble, boys." He peeks outside and shakes his head, lingering just a moment longer. "My grand exit would be a lot better if my dragon were /on standby/, waiting for me. Crap."
The place is indeed clearing out. Feilan gives a short nod though at the mention of vacating the place. "Heh. Yeah. I'd rather not be caught all alone in here with escaped prisoners on the loose." Someone /might/ want to know what happened. He gives Il'ad a light wave though, grinning at the rider a bit. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see. Certainly will /try/ to stay out of trouble."
