Wehlim and Cabrien Search Log

OOC Time: Monday October 11th, 2010. 10:08:58 PM.
Season (North Continent): Late fall.
Weather: It is fall.
Current Location: Main Living Cavern (#551) - Zone: Fort Weyr
Room Occupants:
Wehlim and Cabrien


Main Living Cavern (#551J)
Grey stone arches a vast vault overhead, details of the ceiling all but disappearing in the shadows cast by warm, human-height glowsconces and the night hearth's flames; tapestries texture the smooth walls, looking down upon the raised dais, the expanse of tables, the flagstones left cleared for impromptu dancing.
A single broad archway, its carved pattern worn soft with time and passersby's touch, leads west into the bowl; two more, narrower but just as tall, give access to the bustle of living caverns in the south. Predominant looms the builders' masterpiece: the imposing staircase that twines up along the northern wall, leading to the weyr's huge kitchens.
Vintner Harry busies himself behind the 'bar'; nearby hangs the day's 'menu'.
You see White Egg Seven and Doom Salad here.
Wehlim and Cabrien are here.

Another shrug. "Depends on how you prepare them. They can be good for traveling if I make'm for that." Wehlim reaches up, scratching a finger behind his ear, then looks back down to his meal. He's just about eaten all he can really stomach at the moment, so he puts his spoon down, and as he talks, lightly taps a finger against the side of the plate. "What do you mean? Feelin what?" he was fairly knew to the Weyr, to this environment in its entirety. He wasn't sure what to feel about it, or what he might be missing.

"It. Here. Fort." Cabrien shrugs and sits back upright, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. "Kinda gets you like that." As though Fort were a terrible infection, and Wehlim the newest victim. "Anyways…" Shaking his head, Cabrien again switches topics, "Rather just get the good stuff. Never liked those other things."

If there was a time for trumpets and fanfare, it would be right the moment U'rr in his leather-clad glory steps into the Living Caverns with his gaggle of Harpers (yes, they travel in a gaggle) trailing behind, bearing hides and chatting into the carefully listening Weyrleader's ear. But there aren't any convenient trumpets around. "I appreciate everyone's effort on this front, now I will meet with each one of you later." And with that the Harpers scatter to do their Harpery things, some even moving to play some mealtime music or something. And then the brownrider moves to the bar to procure some red wine.

"Gets to me?" Wehlim must be dense because he still doesn't understand what the other means, and it takes him even longer to catch on because soon he's distracted by U'rr's entrance. Though there are no trumpets, his presence makes its self easily known. Wehlim's never seen so many Harpers in one sitting, except for perhaps recent festivities. He frowns for a moment, then hunches a little lower in his seat, letting Cabrien overshadow his presence there. He clears his throat, looking back down to his stew. "Tuber chips are good stuff. But.. yeah.. I..I'll get you something good, promise. I'll have it bundled together by tomorrow." Which meant he'd either work on it tonight or tomorrow morning.

Cabrien doesn't exactly ignore Wehlim, but with U'rr's arrival he sits upright all nice and proper like to watch the Weyrleader's progress. The Harpers garner a little less attention, which is still more than Wehlim gets at current. But when the procession breaks and U'rr goes off to the bar, Cabrien switches his attention back to Wehlim. "Morning'd be better if you don't mind. Gonna head out then so I'll stop by on my way through." A slow beat later, "You could come. If you want. Wouldn't mind the company."

U'rr has a glass of wine and the light music that has started in the caverns causes the typically solemn brownrider to lightly waltz-step across the floor in the direction of the Leadership Table. But something catches his attention, and that seems to be Cabrien and Wehlim, bringing U'rr to their table with a polite nod, "Good day Residents. I do believe we were superficially introduced the previous evening at the Event in the Promenade. I am U'rr, your Weyrleader." He even salutes his wine glass in greeting.

A nod is given towards the bit about wanting the food ready in the morning, which meant Wehlim would certainly be up most of the night getting everything prepared, though there's no complaint, just simple acceptance. Surprise registers at the last bit though, and his brows tighten for a moment as he glances towards Cabrien, mouth opening to ask a question, but taking a bit too long to actually come out with it. By the time he reasons things out, the surprise fades and he ohs, giving a nod. "So I can help get your stuff together and load it and stuff. Yeah, that'd be alright. I don't mind helping." All of that goes out of mind and out of existance the moment he sees that particular intimidating man from the other night waltzing, yes waltzing, across the cavern and then shifting in their direction. Wehlim would happily melt into the shadows under the table right then and there, but that's not exactly an option. "H..H..hey." Pause. Clear throat, shift uneasily. "Evenin, W..Weyrleader, sir."

Cabrien is as helpless to duty and propriety when it comes to U'rr as he is when it comes to Imogen. Which is why he salutes U'rr in return and greets him with a respectful, "Good evening, sir. I'm Cabrien." Of no one special and no particular rank, as much is made clear by the lack of a title following. "That's Wehlim," Cabrien supplies for the other. A measured pause brings, "Would you like to join us, sir?"

"There is no need to introduce yourself to me, I have already read your files. I'll admit that I only briefly skimmed over the documentation." Yes, you have files and documentation and U'rr has it buried somewhere. The Weyrleader's piercing blue eyes first fall on Wehlim, "You appear to have difficulty fully enunciating, I would suggest you practice your diction. I can suggest an excellent Harper who specializes in speech communication." With all of that said, the brownrider's face doesn't seem to even twitch from its bland expression. With a nod given to Cabrien, the man lowers himself easily into a chair, "I hope that this evening finds you two well."

Problems with dictations indeed, and things only get worse as the Weyrleader goes into greater detail about his problems and methods on fixing said failings. Wehlim's skin goes a little red and he swallows as he nods a little too quickly, the fingers of the hand next to his plate ticking against the table. He doesn't open his mouth again, at least not so soon after his disgrace. Instead, he glances fleetingly up towards U'rr, then to Cabrien, as though waiting to take his cue from the older boy. It would make sense, as Cabrien, at least in Wehlim's view, has absolutely no trouble addressing the Big Dogs of the Weyr. His half eaten, green stew stuff, an off the menu meal he'd prepared himself, slowly grows cold.

Make no mistake. Cabrien is dumbfounded that there is an actual file on him. Though to his credit it doesn't show. Not in expression or tone, for there's hardly a beat skipped as he says, "Of course, sir." He settles back a little in his seat, watching Wehlim carefully as U'rr pronounces his shortcomings, and then just as quickly saying, "Yes, sir. Just making plans for tomorrow. Wehlim is helping me with a few things."

U'rr takes a long sip of the wine as he listens to Cabrien, nodding carefully as he settles the glass down. "Ah, I see, well hopefully your plans include … touching me…" Wait what? He hasn't even had that much to drink, but it seems as soon as he said it those critical blues go unfocused and the brownrider goes silent, "… I mean, I hope that you have productive plans. No use wasting precious time." Yep, he's covered his butt but there is some redness slowly crawling up his neck.

Feeling a bit relieved that Cabrien's taken up the reigns of the conversation and plans on holding on to them, Wehlim's just going to silently go along with whatever the older boy says, agreeing with it because that's the safe thing. And thankfully in this case, true. All of that is put on the backburner though come U'rr's little..freudian slip. The ratty looking boy's eyes bug out, so wide the whites are very clearly visible and he remains fixed in that position for several long seconds, even as U'rr continues on as though nothing was said.

Cabrien never heard anything about touching anyone. "Productive, yes sir." He looks away from U'rr, politely giving the man time to recuperate. "Due to travel back home… back to the Hold, sir. I need to get my things." He reaches for the last of his meal, briefly rubbing the redfruit against his stomach before taking a generous bite out of it. He tries, rather discretely too, to send a little non verbal cue to Wehlim that the bug-eyed expression is probably going to get him into trouble.

U'rr coughs into his fist idly, "Err… excuse me." And to clear up his throat the brownrider finishes off the rest of that glass of wine, which just adds an additional red tinge to his already blushing face. "Ah, the Hold. Hopefully you have fully cleared your absence with the Headwoman, it would be most unsuitable if your absence causes issues with the productivity of the Weyr." The brownrider's eyes then lightly travel over to Wehlim and his eyes fade a moment while he mumbles something semi-coherent but it definitely sounds like 'You look delicious'.

Its something that hadn't even crossed Wehlim's mind, but right now he's still stuck on the /other/ tidbits of conversation that seem to have snuck into U'rr's vocabulary without the Weyrleader's notice. Oh wait, there's a distinct red tinge to the man's skin. Wehlim coughs as Cabrien sends him that cue (or perhaps that's a choked off cry) and he sits up a little straighter. "Right!" He winces a little at his outburst, which hopefully wasn't related to the looking delicious 'compliment', and raises a hand to his throat, rubbing and clearing it at the same time. Damn frog. "I m..mean s..sorry, sir. I'll g..get permission. Www..w.." He deflates a little, struggling to get past the almost crippling letter before switching tracks completely. "Not gonna go till she sssays I can." He looks quickly to Cabrien. Help him out?

"Sir," Cabrien assures the rider, "I'll be back within two days at most. Worked extra today and the day before to cover for the days I'll be gone. Delivering a message too, so I'm hoping…" He trails off when it becomes clear he's talking to air or might just as well be for all that U'rr's mind seemed to be elsewhere. Wehlim's look gains a small to-and-from shake of Cabrien's head. Translation: You're totally on your own, dude!

"Speak clearly, Resident." U'rr says firmly as he stares at the man, lifting up his wine glass to suggest it needs to be refilled. A drudge reluctantly comes and fills the glass and the Weyrleader looks between the pair of them, "Good. I hope that your trip is then productive and — No Ceruuth!" And there goes the brownrider, breaking the unwritten rule of not speaking aloud to your lifemate. Outside the cavern there is a high-pitched whistle followed by a loud vibration, if one were outside the caverns they'd see a brown dragon whistling and jumping up and down outside the door, "I… uh… would suggest not leaving through the cavern exit to the bowl anytime soon. Ceruuth wants to taste you."

Well this presents a pretty conundrum. Rarely before has Wehlim ever wanted to both dissolve into a puddle of goo /and/ run out of the room screaming his head off. At least, not at the same time. Cabrien might find the boy's presence a source of discomfort for all the fact that at some point in all of this strangeness, he's actually scooted closer to him. Big brother protection needed or not, he's got no real friends to shelter him should U'rr really flip his wig and try taking a bite out of him. "I..I…I" Because that doesn't sound like aye-aye-aye at all. He gives up on trying to say 'I'm trying' and looks quickly towards the exit to the cavern at that eardrum-splitting whistle. Not being fluent in a dragon's needs and wants as of yet, he seems to take U'rr's warning to heart. "He wouldn't really do that would he?" Strangely articulate when it comes to matters of being chomped on by dragons it seems, though his voice is hushed.

Cabrien's attention ping-pongs between U'rr and Ceruuth, landing at last on the whistling, jumping brown. "Noted, sir." Stated slowly and almost amusedly. Almost. Cabrien looks back to Wehlim, likely checking to see that the other hasn't suddenly stopped breathing or anything else that's equally counter productive. The younger boy's query draws a soft snort, but it's not his place to answer and so he simply takes another bite out of his redfruit.

U'rr lightly rolls his shoulders into a shallow shrug as he looks to Wehlim, "My Ceruuth believes that every person tastes a little different and in order to test his hypothesis he tries to taste every person I encounter. He seems exceptionally fascinated in you two." Then the brownrider pauses to take another casual drink from his wine glass, "Although I find it is much easier to just submit to Ceruuth's urges rather than fight them, he will probably wait outside the caverns for a few hours." Well, actually Ceruuth is completely impatient today and instead there is a rumble of something happening outside before a fawn-dappled dragon head emerges through the doorway, bearing satyr horns and releasing an awfully loud tweet that echoes in the caverns. Residents nearby the doorway start to scream and dash off in various directions.

"Taste, n..not bite." Wehlim tries to clarify that, even as he hears those strange noises coming from the entrance of the caverns, the door no longer the protective barrier it'd once been when Ceruuth's head barges through. There's another weird sound, closer to U'rr and Cabrien. Chipping wood. More accurately, Wehlim's fingernails seek to grind themselves into the table's edge. If his eyes were wide at U'rr's random outbursts, now they're set to pop out right out should someone bap the back of his fool head. Another thick swallow. "Oookay…" he drawls out. He looks to Cabrien in a manner that questions 'Is this normal?'

Cabrien still manages to look nonplused, though with Ceruuth's antics it's not an easy thing to manage. Especially come that brown head (and the subsequent tweet) entering the cavern. "Suggest you don't run," Cabrien asides to Wehlim in something of an undertone. In a slightly louder tone he says, "The lavender is not my fault, sir. One of the girls in the baths thought, well, it wasn't my idea." He shifts in his seat as though getting ready to stand. Wehlim's drawl, and that look garner another moment of study before he says, "I'm gonna go introduce myself. 'cause I don't wanna get trampled when I leave tomorrow." He looks to U'rr for permission before even attempting to do so.

U'rr seems very unphased about the whole entrance of Ceruuth's head into the caverns, mostly because the dragon gave his human counterpart a little warning beforehand, "Normally he would lick his targets, but he is quite unpredictable." U'rr just finishes off the rest of the wine as Ceruuth's eyes whirl quickly as he attempts to get a good look at Cabrien and Wehlim. The rider nods toward Cabrien, "It would probably be ideal to introduce yourself now, although you might want to tuck your hands in your pockets… they can get stuck between his teeth and one less finger equates to less productivity." The brown starts to purr quietly and then releases his rather lengthy tongue.

Wehlim isn't quite so quick to jump up. He still had stew to finish off, after all. And then there was cleaning up his plate, followed by Cabrien's, followed by perhaps refilling U'rr's wine glass. There simply wasn't enough time to go over there and lose a productive finger to a dragonic tooth. He watches the other boy's motions warily before finally sighing and stiffly pushing up from the table. As he gets closer, he slows briefly to a stop, staring at that enormous tongue. "Faranth.." A quick look at Cabrien and his bold approach of the dragon steels Wehlim and the boy continues forward. His hands are tucked very firmly into his pockets.

With permission given, Cabrien does approach Ceruuth. En route he crosses both arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms. He pauses once he's within range, lingering behind just long enough to quietly assure Wehlim, "They're not all like this. You'll be alright." Rather than going first, Cabe sneaks a hand out from under his arm and promptly offers up Wehlim for examination before stepping up to the other side of the boy.

No other dragon is like Ceruuth, most have some sense of control. The satyr brown whistles lowly toward Cabrien and Wehlim and starts to open his mouth, which seems full of drool that drips slowly on the ground. "Ceruuth… no eating. I can assure you these are not wherries no matter how much they may look like one." Ceruuth obeys his lifemate and proceeds to extend his tongue in the general direction of Wehlim's face, followed by Cabrien's. U'rr finishes up his wine and leans back in his chair, "… Ceruuth enjoys to torture his food prior to eating them, I have seen him break the legs of a Herdbeast and watch them stumble before he eats them." The brownrider seems all too casual about this situation.

Wehlim wasn't intending on going first. He wasn't even sure he -wanted- to go, he was simply following to see the creepy sight. He's rewarded with a great, yawning mouth full of teeth and dripping drool. The boy can't help the gag reflex that comes next, what with the less then pleasant meat-eating smell of dragonic breath that washes over him, and the tongue that suddenly bathes his face. A shudder passes down the tense boy's spine (yes, he has one of those), and after fighting down bile inspired by nerves and scent, he mutters. "Thanks." He glances over his shoulder towards U'rr at the Weyrleader's all to helpful explanation. "Really.. thanks tons.." He says under his breath, looking back to Ceruuth. So far, it's not /so/ bad. Disgusting, sure, but he's still alive.

Cabrien's self control is evident because there's not so much as a flinch or grimace as he's examined by Ceruuth and the brown's tongue. Not even U'rr's remark gets to him, for he offers an easy-going rejoinder. "Thank you for the warning, sir." Pleasant. Best remain so, on the off chance it improves the likelihood that Ceruuth won't think of them as dinner on two legs.

U'rr gags a little to himself, obviously his lifemate is /sharing/ the newfound flavors of the weyr and the brownrider doesn't normally enjoy licking people. "Ceruuth appreciates the opportunity." U'rr sets his wine glass on the table and then rises from the seat, "And interestingly enough, the primary flavor he finds in common with you two he can only describe as 'Candidate'. While I am not sure his tastebuds can properly identify such a flavor, I do believe his comment has an alternate meaning." Then Ceruuth, satisfied with just a taste begins to withdraw his head from the cavern… only to get jammed in the doorway, "And I believe I warned you Ceruuth that such a situation /could/ occur. I will retrieve the drudges to find some animal grease and help remove your head." Poor drudges. "But now the important issue on hand is for me to request that you two Stand for Ceruuth and Eviyath's Clutch as Candidates? Do you accept my offer?" He pauses to let the thought sink it, "And while I /hate/ to threaten, Ceruuth does not take denial very well and… well… his head is still within biting distance."

Wehlim is still in recovery as U'rr continues to talk, which is why he's raising his slightly greasy sleeve (it happened in the kitchens!) to rub the stinky slob off his face, trying hard to just -not- think about it. He hesitates, blinking and slowly lowering his arm. "I.." He swallows, looking back to Ceruuth and indeed finding the dragon well and good stuck. There had to be a back way out of this place, and that might be the only sane path to take, but Wehlim's not the most levelheaded person at the Weyr. He looks to Cabrien, once again unfailingly taking his lead from the older boy. In the end though, he looks to U'rr and quickly nods. "I ac..ac..ac.." Pause. "Yeah, okay, s..sure." U'rr and his harper pals are going to have a hard time breaking this boy of his horrible speech flaws.

"Sir?" Cabrien's conflicted between giving U'rr the whole of his attention, and watching the good-and-stuck Ceruuth. The later end of the Weyrleader's statement is what finds Cabrien shaking free of his momentary stupor, and turning to step back toward the table. All nice and proper like, he intones, "I'm honored, sir. I accept." He's coated in Ceruuth slobber still, no doubt, but he doesn't quite wipe it away. "Thank you."

"You /should/ feel honored." U'rr says casually as he watches a trio of drudges with a bucket of grease begin to work on the wriggling brown. "Now, while my lifemate is removed from the doorway, I should escort both of you to the barracks, where you'll be staying…" And with that, without waiting for the pair, U'rr turns and walks swiftly toward the barracks.

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