Living Cavern -- Starmount(#38RDJLM)
A huge, vaulted dome of rock arches overhead, pocked in places with outcroppings and little holes where firelizards are constantly squabbling and eating various things. The floor of the cavern has been smoothed out by years of feet walking over it, polished to a shine except for the scuffs of table legs. The rough wooden tables are scattered around the room, chairs distributed almost as randomly. Dishes cover the tables, filled with all kinds of foods kept ready for hungry riders and weyrfolk, with firelizards swooping and playing amoung them, grabbing snacks as they will.
 A wide tunnel to the east leads out to the bowl, while several much smaller tunnels lead off in various directions. One dark tunnel, sloping downward, leads to the lower cavern complex for residents. Another, judging from the delicious smells coming from it, can only lead to the kitchen. The last, a steeply upward-sloping tunnel, bears a small iconograph beside it denoting the record hall.

You see:
 C'drel, standing near the door.
 Kaeralla, standing near the door.
 Tamial, standing near the door.
 

C'drel clears his throat hastily, looking sheepish. "Well, there is that," he admits, "I hadn't considered that aspect. Maybe a cloak of wherry-feathers isn't quite such a good idea after all." Cam pauses to slink back damp hair, but otherwise doesn't do terribly much to try and rid already-wet clothes of water. He begins, naturally, heading towards the fire -- and incidentally, Kaeralla. "Morning!" He greets, cheerfully.

In comes Puokano, stomping and shuffling and attempting to look as inconspicious as possible -- and failing miserably. A surly, sleepy glance is give for the other occupants of the cavern before he swings towards the sidetables and breakfast. "I hate Kaigi," he growls to himself.

Tamial slides her jacket off, hanging it up on a peg not far from the bowl tunnel. Doubtless the sweater -and- tunic she's wearing are enough for indoors. "Maybe if it were treated for smell it'd be all right, but it would still -look- like wherry." She detours past the breakfast tables for a looksee, and snags two plates to fill. "Cam, what do you want? Looks like there're redfruit, like I figured. Not that many, though... they mustn't be very ripe yet, for the most." To Kae and Puokano she nods cheerfully in greeting, evidently more of a morning person.

"Morning Cam, Tami." Kae smiles, she can't help it if someone talks to her, it's better to respond than to sit there staring at the fire like a bump on a log. Puokano is politely greeted with a nod, although Kae doesn't say anything to him.

C'drel lets breath out in faint huff, hovering in front of the hearth for a moment. "But it'd be warm," Cam points out, probably the only reason he even considered it, if briefly. "I mean, you'd think it would be.. hmm? Oh, redfruit's good. Is there enough for both of us?" Shoulders shift, slightly, and rider half turns to watch Puokano with concealed grin. "Good morning Puokano," he greets as solemnly as possible. "Ah, Kae. How do you manage to secure the warmest spot in the caverns all the time?"

Puokano is something less than polite, preferring to blackly scowl out at those who greet him. He bangs around while fixing himself a plate; silverware clatters against crockery, which surprisingly manages to stay intact while rivergrain porridge is slopped about. In short, he makes a mess. He violently flops himself into a seat, next, muttering to himself, "She didn't have to make me get up. Really. It's too cold to get up. Best place to be is under them sleeping furs, or on the quickest transport out of this dump."

"Probably because I don't have to brave the rain to get here." Kae grins wryly, sipping at her klah. "Just a nice short walk from the inner tunnels. And I get up early too." Well that would work.

"Early 'lizard gets the crawler, you know." Tamial adds a few bits of cut-up redfruit to each plate, a couple of meatrolls, a muffin or two... the works. "She's guarding the klah, don't bother her." A quick grin at Puokano, and she nods enthusiastically. "I agree about the furs. About the quickest way out, well -- if you want out of this 'dump' -that- badly...."

"I recall Drekyn offering transport," C'drel points out, finally untucking hands from the warmth of his pockets. "I don't see you jumping to accept." Quirking wry grin at Kaeralla, he answers, "Lucky you. Early -- for the runners?" He takes a guess, before reluctantly sliding away from the fire to help Tamial with the plates. "Klah?"

Puokano's sour glance slants towards Tamial. He plays with his food, poking a spoon at the mushy staple while complaining, "I would, but my Fa thinks I'll learn stuff if I'm up here." The 'stuff' isn't specified, although it probably ran along the lines of manners and maturity. "Although, really. What can anyone learn /here/?" The lordling awards C'drel's comment with a glower, and he intones loftily, "That woman's crazy. No wonder she's stuck up here, where she won't harm the good people of Pern."

"Well, if you have to stay, don't call it a dump." Tamial may be a transplant -- but home is home. "Cam, silly, I can manage two plates. I'm hardly an invalid." She sidles away, wrinkling up her nose at the bronzerider. "Go sit down. And yes, klah. Fix the klah instead. Orangefruit, ahah...."

Kaeralla chuckles dryly. Amazing no, considering that it's pouring outside. "I eat breakfast first and then go out a check on the runners. One of the stablehand lives there in the stable cavern, so he feeds 'em in the morning." Kae sisp at her klah, poking at the remains of her morning meal.

C'drel moves towards a klah pot, touching fingers briefly to the pot before pouring out two mugs. "Only wanted to help," he half-protests in defense, adding sweetner to one of the mugs and stirring judiciously before picking a table near to the hearthside. "How do deal with cold?" He answers Puokano, after a pause. "Or how to deal with holdbrats?" He adds, in a mutter. Hard to tell whether it was meant to be heard; it was quiet, but those nearby could catch it. "/Lives/ out there?" He half swings around to regard Kae. "It's it.. well, cold?"

"I'll call it what I want to," Puokano replies haughtily before transferring a pitying glance to Kaeralla. "Poor girl. Are you a drudge?" he asks. "Drudges who muck around with runners generally eat in there, you know." He points towards the kitchens, sacchrine smile plastered into place. The Bollian shudders at C'drel's statement -- the first one. "Ugh. Cold. It's the worst thing, after Thread." The second obviously slipped his hearing.

Tamial's brow rises very high indeed as she catches Puokano's words. She stares at the boy for a minute, one plate balanced on the edge of the table. "Oh, and will you?" she asks archly. "Who are you, anyway?" She sets another slice of orangefruit or so on each plate, then moves over with them toward Cam and the hearthside, though her attention stays on the 'lordling.' "And has it occured to you that insulting 'this dump' might get you thrown out, should the Senior Weyrwoman hear you?"

Kaeralla's lips twist into a wry grin. "Sure he lives out there. It's pretty warm, up in the hayloft. He doesn't spend all day out there. Just the night watch and morning feed." her grin switches to a deep frown as she glares at the lordling, hands planted firmly on her hips. "I am not a /drudge/" she snaps. "I'm a stablehand. My father breeds some of the finest runners in Keroon. At least I care about something /other/ than myself. That's why I care for the runners." Those last comments perhaps implies that Puokano is not capable of caring for someone other than himself.

C'drel takes a sip of his klah, and makes a face at Puokano's words, quirking wry grin to Tamial as he pushes second klah mug towards her. "I suppose that wouldn't be so bad.. I mean, you'd have to keep food in there.. for him, I mean.. for when there's blizzards and stuff."

The youth pauses in his porridge-mushing; he straightens up and proudly rattles off, "Puokano, fourth son of Lord Boll.." He hesitates to grimace. "And Weaver Master Kaigi's fosterson." Poor woman, having to put up with him. Shoulders shrug carelessly. "Ah, she wouldn't dare throw me out. I'm a Lord's son, you know. Can't risk bad relations with the Holds -- we support these Weyrs." He sniffs. "And who are /you/? You really shouldn't be so rude." A lofty look is cast upon Kaeralla. "One would never know," he notes. "You look like one. And you shouldn't be rude, either. My father would not be pleased to learn how people treat me up here."

C'drel coughs faintly. Must be too much klah? Can't be that Puokano's words have caused a faint choking? No, surely he's not laughing? He seems to do a lot of than when Puokano's around. "'scuse me. Went down the wrong way--"

"They'd better be warm. Runners don't take to the chill," Tamial comments vaguely, settling down beside Cam to claim her mug and warm herself at the fire. She laces long fingers around the cup, tilting her head to consider Puokano. "Is that so? Actually, I'd hardly be surprised if Weyrwoman Jindra dared. I suspect she would dare quite handily." Funny, isn't it, how young Sunspark who has her shoulder has managed to settle himself over the knot? One might just thing she's trained him to do exactly that. "Me?" She smiles. "Tamial. Bazrin trader. And I can't say it's much of a pleasure to meet you."

Kaeralla nods at Tamial's words. "It's warm enough. A cozy little cavern if anything. I've had foal watch often enough to know." a scathing glance is cast in the direction of her not-friend, not-enemy... yet. "If you ever /worked/ a day in your life, you'd know that dressing plainly is the best way. That way you wouldn't dirty your rich clothes while working. Although in your case, I'd make an exception."

Not many admit that it's much of a pleasure to meet Puokano; he's got selective hearing, however, and ignores the words he dislikes. "Pleasure to meet you too, Trader," comes his response, albeit a bit sarcastically. "Hmmph. My father wouldn't be pleased at all," he notes repetitively. "He'd see that that Weyrwoman got replaced, I'm sure." He scowls over at Kaeralla, informing, "I've worked more than /you/ ever have. I've been trained to be an Assistant Steward and help run a Hold -- but you certainly wouldn't know anything about management, would you? You just learned..common things." The words come off distastefully; surely, Puokano would never sully himself with manual labor.

Tamial glances at Kaeralla, silent for a moment, then back to the lordling. "I regret to inform you," she says mildly, "that no one replaces Weyrwomen. Weyrwomen replace Lord Holders." She settles against Cam comfortably, sipping at the klah. "Mm. This is good today." Then setting it aside, she reaches up to tickle under Sunspark's chin. "My good sir, I would appreciate it if you didn't insult Kaeralla. I consider her a friend. And any good Lord Holder -- or Steward -- ought to have a little respect for people who do important jobs. Runner-tending is important. In -my- eyes, at least, and in the eyes of those who need the runners."

As C'drel reaches over for a redfruit slice, another coughing fit ensures. Or--? No, that was definitely a snicker. Rather than be annoyed, he's clearly finding Puokano's manner entertaining. Especially that comment about replacing the Weyrwoman. "Did you remember how to walk, then?" He asks, eyes wide, while taking a bit of the redfruit.

Kaeralla stiffens in her chair, gaze turning Bowl-wards. A slight smile curves her lips, replacing the frown that had so recently graced them. Taking the advice she got, she leans back in her chair, pointedly ignoring Puokano.

"No they don't," Puokano replies confidently. "The Council replaces Lords. Or they die. Dragonriders certainly don't have anything to do with Holds. We're autonomous." Or maybe that's the Weyrs. Or maybe Puo just conveniently forgets his lessons. A sweet smile is given for the stablehand, and he notes, "I certainly respect her. She doesn't respect me." Sweet expression turns into something less-so as regard shifts to C'drel. "I can walk just fine," comes the icy response.

"Oh, I remember historical instances of Holders being replaced." Tamial shrugs slightly, though. "Holders have nothing to do with Weyrs, additionally. I don't know where you came up with the idea that Senior Weyrwoman Jindra, Krysanth's rider, could be replaced." She deliberately uses the long title, a slight smile twitching. She, too, is evidently finding this funny -- and an elbow finds its way into Cam's side, albeit lightly. "Yes, we did see that. So why have you been posted here, if 'here' is such a dump?"

"Really?" C'drel seems somewhat surprised at Puokano's words. "As I clearly recall -- and I'm sure Drekyn or your fostersister could back me up on this -- you mentioning that sons of Lord Holders don't walk." Half turning to Kaeralla, he makes a wry face before leaning back slightly, grinning at Tamial. "Mmm. Against his will, I hear?"

"Mm, true," Tamial agrees demurely, thoughtful. "Fancy that." She glances at Kaeralla again with a tiny nod and smile of encouragement. "Perhaps our young lordling knows how to ride a runner?"

Respect, it's awfully hard to respect someone when they don't really deserve it. But Kae wisely keeps her mouth shut. At least to anything the lrodling might say. She does smile though, more than a little.

"Well..well.." Puokano sputters a bit before recovering his composure, settling back in his chair, and eyeing Tamial haughtily. "I don't have to discuss anything with you. You're just a trader - what would you know about politics, anyways?" All is said politely, of course -- when's Puo anything but the picture of politeness? "My father obviously overestimated the Weyrs. He thought I'd learn something here." He peers towards C'drel. "I just don't walk across Pern," he clarifies patiently, as if talking to a child. "I'd freeze in the cold. You should know that people don't go out and walk from up here to Boll." A pause comes while he partakes of his meal before he quickly notes, "Oh, yes. I know how to ride. My father made sure all us boys knew how to do that."

"Well," Tamial says, quite gently, as she runs a finger around the lip of her mug, "not JUST a trader." She nods quietly, thoughtful again. "Did he? That's a good thing. I suppose you treat runners with as much respect as--" she darts a look at Kaeralla and back to him, "-- their caretaker?"

C'drel nods head agreeably to Puokano, seemingly deferring to the holder's expertise. He casts a glance to Tamial, amused, and returns to his meal.

Xalea walks up from the lower caverns.
Xalea has arrived.

C'drel tilts head abruptly, making a wry face. "Shells. K'di wants me. Hopefully I won't be long." Snatching up the last peice of redfruit off the plate, he darts out towards the bowl, dodging tables and munching on fruit as he goes.
C'drel ducks down the tunnel to the Bowl.
C'drel has left.

Puokano rolls his eyes. "That's what you said you were: a trader," he reminds Tamial. "You should learn to say what you mean." He nods grandly then, answering, "Of course. I'm always respectful."

Tamial loses her shoulder-prop as C'drel darts off. She looks after him, sighs, and scoots over to have a spot against the brickwork near the fire. "No, I said I was a trader. I am. Bazrin Trader Tamial, originally of the Southern continent." She nibbles at her own redfruit slice, then offers it up to Sunspark, who squeaks his dismay. "All right, don't eat it." Dropping it back on her plate, Tami settles back, folding her arms. "Then I moved to Azov and took over the major part of the trade there." And she goes silent. Let -him- ask the questions, if he stirs himself that far.

Her head down and a small frown on her face, Xalea walks in with hands deep in her pockets. Without looking up or greeting anyone, she swerves her path gracefully towards the food.

Puokano certainly doesn't ask further questions. She's a trader and that's that, right? "Ah! You've been south." He warms to Tamial somewhat and rhetorically queries, "Isn't it wonderful there? Where it's warm? Where you don't freeze?" A brief look is shot towards Xalea, although the fosterling hardly forms a welcoming committee.

"It was home for almost twenty years," Tamial agrees breezily, with a smile for Xalea that's more than a little distracted. "I enjoyed it there, certainly. But I enjoy it here, as well, or I certainly wouldn't have requested a transfer here." Nevermind she asked before she knew the place that well. "I imagine Uncle Arbin wishes I'd stayed there, even if I wasn't being much good to him anymore."

Kaeralla waves slightly towards Xalea. Biut most of her attention is on the conversation between the lordling and the goldrider.

Puokano eyes Tamial like she's some sort of insane person, boggling. "You transferred /here/?" he repeats. "Whatever for? It's cold. People aren't at all respectful. The dragonriders probably feast on small children, for all I know. It's a wonder there's so many little kids running around the lower caverns -- and they aren't at all trained," he adds. "A pack of wild things. If they were at a Hold, they'd be nice, punctual, and respectful." A small laugh follows. "Although I suppose weyr-people shoot out kids fast enough to make up for those they lose."

"Because I felt I could be some help to Weyrwoman Jindra," Tamial says with a one-shouldered shrug, and breaks into a grin. "Feast on small children? Goodness, I hope not. I'd be afraid to bring Tassle here. Though I doubt I'd find him that tasty, either." Hint, hint, thou impertinent lordling.

"How could a trader be a help to a Weyrwoman?" Puokano wants to know. "Is she that uneducated?" He hardly picks up an any dropped hints, simply suggesting, "Maybe they've kept the child-eating from you. To see if you're that sort of a person -- a weyrfolk. An immoral weyrfolk-person."

Tamial laughs quietly, shaking her head. "Should I tell him?" she wonders at Kaeralla, then shrugs again. "Weyrwoman Jindra has a great deal of work. I help her with what I know how to do. I -did- have a good deal of training of my own, after all, beyond simply Trader duties." And she nods, adding, "I am weyrfolk. I have been for over four turns now. I have two weyrmates, one son, and I don't ever intend to leave. Now, do you plan to be insulting to me, my friend?"

Pausing as she hears the conversation, Xalea turns slowly back to watch the lordling put his foot in his mouth and ram it down his throat repeatedly. As she does so, a meatroll is munched at distractedly. Eventually, she decides to ask, "Do you always talk that way to Weyrwomen?"

Kaeralla chuckles at Tamial. "Sounds like you told him without me." she grins. "Wyerlife is just full of surprise eh, Puokano?" she regards the lordling with amusment.

Immorality! Immorality! Puokano does his best to keep his mouth shut, suddenly finding his porridge quite interesting. "Oh. I see." Tone is somewhat skeptical, and he makes sure he heard right: "/Two/ weyrmates?" He shakes his head, muttering to himself, "If my father'd even /known/.." At a loss for words, the fosterling turns attention to Xalea and suavely informs, "You've got your ranks messed up. She's a trader."

Tamial snaps a quelling look at Xalea, fighting a giggle. "Yes, two. The man who just left is one, C'drel, bronze Matrith's rider. Z'ina, green Ephenth's rider, had to run errands. And I'm sure your dear father could do without knowing." She looks again at Xalea, still stifling that grin without a great deal of luck.

"How silly of me," Xalea answers in a quiet voice, "I guess a couple of turns here has done nothing for me. Still a stupid, unteachable Holder." My but that was a subtle dig. She hides the tiniest of smiles behind her meatroll. Xalea? Smiling? Unprecedented.

"And where are /you/ from?" Puokano regally inquires of Xalea with a small sniff. "Obviously you didn't come from Boll. No one but the drudges are stupid down there. But even they're teachable. Tell 'em to clean out the kitchens and they'll do it." A faintly disgusted look is cast upon Tamial and Puo doesn't try hard to cover it up. "I feel bad for your son." Or was it a daughter? "Maybe you should try fostering it off to Boll. Do it a world of good."

Tamial's smile drops away. "It?" she inquires, deliberately mild. "I beg your pardon. Insult me, if you like, but don't insult my son." She glances toward the Bowl, though, and eases shoulders slightly. Looking back to the Holder, she studies him up and down with narrowed eyes. "You, my friend, have clearly had no instruction at all in respect. I had a working relationship with several Holders and their Stewards while in the south, running trader routes, and I found most of them quite pleasant to be around. You, on the other hand, are not. And I suggest you re-adjust your opinion of her intelligence, because she was perfectly accurate, even if I was a trader for longer."

"You know," Xalea answers with a saccharin smile, "You're right. How else could those of Boll learn to be pompous asses so well? You really are a fine example of your home..." A pause, and she adds, "I'm from Ista Hold. Why, we're so stupid there, we can't even learn the basics of insults."

"Him. Excuse me." Puokano hardly sounds like he wants to be excused, however, tone edging towards the sarcastic once more. "Perhaps you just don't know politeness -- respect -- when you come across it," he remarks. Before further comments can be made, his attention turns to Xalea; shocked, he demands, "Take that back right now. Boll is the best place on Pern -- and I am /not/ pompous. And I've been at Ista. Fostered there for nearly six Turns. I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from talking about either Hold in such a manner. You're a bad example of what we Holders are really like; you bring a bad name to the respectable people of Pern."

"Xalea, it's all right. He's insulting everyone." Tamial turns her mug between her hands again, crossing her legs comfortably. "Sir, you come to the Weyr that I consider home, you call it a dump, you imply that drudges are worthless, that our residents are stupid, and insist that we consider the place YOU came from to be excellent. After all of that, you call yourself polite?"

K'iss walks down from the ground weyrs tunnel.
K'iss has arrived.

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. That is the sound that preceeds K'iss as he hobbles down from the weyrtunnel. Enter greenriding weyrsecond with proddy green onto the scene, brow furrowed in thought, he heads towards the klah, limping his way towards it, wincing ever so slightly.

"It's not my fault this place's a dump, or that the drudges aren't trained, or that residents are uneducated," Puokano lets Tamial know as he finishes his morning meal and shifts the empty plate more towards the center of the table. "Boll /is/ excellent. Everyone knows that, except maybe people who spend their whole lives up here where it's cold and don't know anything different. And I've always been polite." K'iss' entrance isn't noticed; after all, it's probably just another of those uneducated residents.

"If you believe that," Xalea points out, "Then you are nowhere near as intelligent as you think. You are exactly the definition of pompous. A Harper could use you for vocabulary instruction as a visual aid." She snorts faintly, stuffing the last of her meatroll in her mouth before heading for the fire. A short pause, and a brow lifts slowly, "Oh yes, and I'm the bad example, of course. You're the one who can't even recognize sarcasm."

K'iss may be unedumacated, but he's not your ordinary resident, he hears the statement about his home and the brow furrows further. Uh-oh, proddiness alert. "Excuse me, what did you say?" he demands, barking at the man.

Tamial just shakes her head. "I can see," she says with a nod of greeting to K'iss, "that you're not listening. It's a shame." K'iss' bark, however, startles her, and she glances back at the man. "Easy. I'm dealing with this," she says firmly. "Don't trouble yourself, sir."

Kaeralla wrinkles her nose, frowning at Puokano's words. But she's nice and quiet. After all, she got advice. And she's not going to comment. She had her share of the argument with him.

Puokano expressively rolls his eyes at Xalea and notes, "I think you're mistaking pompous for yourself. Really, if you're going to start judging people, you should start with yourself." Head turns and the fosterling regards K'iss; innocently, he questions, "What was that?"

K'iss chuckles, really, "I must have heard wrong, but I could have sworn you just called /my/ weyr a dump." You'd better hope he heard wrong, at least. Surely everyone else hopes so.

T'ela walks through the door from the bowl.
T'ela has arrived.

Tamial certainly does, and stifles a sigh. But she fades back to let K'iss handle this for now, reclaiming mug and the cold remains of her breakfast to feed to Sunspark.

"/Your/ weyr?" Puokano raises an eyebrow as he distastefully regards the greenrider. "I was under the impression that this was the Weyrwoman’s weyr. Not yours. Unless your name is Jindra?"

T'ela appears to be in a very good mood as she tromps into the living cavern, totally oblivious to whatever confrontation is going on surrounding Puokano. Grinning crookedly, she wends her way through tables, heedless of the few occupants of whos chairs she shoves none too gently out of her way to get to Kaeralla's table. "Isn't it just a great day, Kae?" Now *that*'s an odd question, coming from Tae.

K'iss snorts. "Not exactly. But this is my weyr, along with hers. And I do not think Jin would take kindly to having the place caled a dump." The weyrsecond isn't a tall man, but he can make himself look bigger, and, surisingly enough, even the limp is gone for now, as the greenrider focuses on this young whippersnapper that thinks his muck doesn't stink. "If you have a bone to pick about the weyr, I suggest you take it up with me, in the absence of the weyrwoman and weyrleader." He's really trying to be polite, honest.

"Aboslutely lovely." Kae quips dryly to the brownrider. "Although Faranth knows it could be better. At least not without..." the stablehand clamps her lips shut. Oh, no, she's not going to get back into the argument. But she just pats the seat beside her. "Well come and watch the show."

"I know she wouldn't," Tamial chips in, cheerful again. "I told him she might well toss him out in the snow to go complain to his Lord Holder father, but I don't think he believed me." To Puokano she adds, "It's everyone's Weyr. Weyrwoman Jindra keeps it running and in good order." Dump or no dump.

T'ela slides into the seat next to Kaeralla, hr expression containing just a hint of curiosity. "What happened...?" Her attention is diverted, though, by the sound of arguing. Oh, she knows that sound very well, Tae does. And for once, she's not involved in it... "What's going on here?"

Brows rise higher, and Xalea peers more closely at Puokano. "So... " she smiles, slipping closer, another meatroll having appeared in her hands, "... How would you judge me then, oh wise and glorious holdless lord? Really, if you were /that/ wonderful, wouldn't your father have kept you around in hopes of finding a place for you to Lord? Or even a Holder's Daughter you could marry?" There is something dangerous in her manner.

"Well then." Puokano begins by casting a smug smile towards the Weyrsecond; he ticks off his fingers as he speaks. "The drudges aren't at all trained. They don't do /anything/ but clutter up space and look useless. The residents aren't educated at all. Frankly, it's embarrassing. The lower caverns are in disarray, and children run around like wild whers. It's /chaos./"

K'iss snorts. "And this is all...in your opinion? Which, really, means nothing, oh wandering child. Is that right?" Something dangerous flashes in his eyes as Xalea speaks.

Kaeralla leans closer to T'ela. "It's him." a vauge gesture towards the lordling. "He started it, first he insults me, then he insults the Weyr. He's spoiled as last turn's wherry eggs."

Tamial, by the hearth with Kaeralla, leans in a little herself to catch the conversation. "I'm a little afraid to let K'iss handle this," she admits to them, voice low for just the two pairs of ears. "He might knock him over the head, and then we'd have a diplomatic incident. If a fourth child even rates that."

T'ela can't help herself - it's an arguement, and she just *has* to join in. Even if she doesn't know all the details. Besides, she's a *rider* now, which means she can't be made to go on latrine duty. Eyes narrow slightly, and she just looks at Kaeralla for a moment before staring at Puokano, remarking casually,"What's wrong with the residents here? *They* all work hard enough, *especially* Kae here. But what, may I ask, do *you* do, besides bother people?"

"I am not holdless," Puokano sharply snaps at Xalea, "and you know nothing about my family or what my father is like. You shouldn't make judgements on what you don't know about. /You/ are nothing more than a rude, provoking weyr-girl." Attention moves back to K'iss. "I happen to think that my opinion is quite a good one. And I'm not a child -- I'm a fourth son of a Lord who's going to be an Assistant Steward one day." He eyes T'ela a moment. "Have you even been down in the caverns lately?"

K'iss smirks. "Well, then. /I/ suggest you go back where you belong, crawling back into your snakehole, go back to your father, and tell him you are no longer welcome at my weyr so long as you aim t'insult my residents and riders." And, with a quick movement, proddy W2 is on the lordling's neck, grabbing it, one hand ready nearby beltknife. "And, I suggest you apologize to Xalea, there, or I will be forced to remove your, ahem, family jewels rather painfully."

T'ela is still casual, but there's a tenseness now in her muscles - she's ready to beat this little lordling into submission if she has to. "Actually, I have. Every day for three turns." An eyebrow raises sharply, and she flashes a glance at Xalea. "And just what do *you* know about Xalea, boy?"

Tamial straightens, hastily setting aside her klah. "Shells," she mutters, looking sharply between the two. "That's too much. Weyrsecond, a moment of your time?"

Puokano remains still as possible while he carefully picks out an /tactful/ answer, glaring up at K'iss the whole time. "I suppose you'll have to tell that to my father yourself," he coolly replies. "I've already asked to be removed from this..er, Weyr." Eyes narrow, and he politely requests, "I think she should apologize to me, first."

For a moment Xalea is silent, and even seems as if she might have been cowed. It doesn't last long, though. "I am /not/ a Weyrgirl," she announces quietly to the lordling, "And I don't belong here. Very few people /want/ me here, and I've always thought myself to be stupid, but now I've met someone even more wthless and clueless than myself." And with that, she turns and heads back to get herself a plate of food.

Geloe walks through the door from the bowl.
Geloe has arrived.

K'iss smirks, not hearing Tami, obviously, as he grips the neck harder, maybe even hard enough to leave a nice bruise. "Oh, I do not think so. I believe you owe everyone in this cavern an apology for your terrible manners. It is obvious, child, that you are nowhere a proper holder's son. Nor do you really deserve to carry on the name, at this rate." Beltknife still hasn't been drawn, though hand remains ready. "I can stay this way all night, I've been needing a way to take out my frustrations. Now, you will apologize, or I will make you cry like the baby you are!" Hiss, claw, spank!

Tamial slides off the hearth and moves that way, reaching to touch K'iss' shoulder. "Sir," she stresses. "Please. A word with you."

Oh, this is indeed a wonderful day for Kae. Especially since the whole argument started with her. Somehow and for some reason. Of course that's been forgotten now, which leaves her with the opportunity to sit back and enjoy the show. A wry grin is given to T'ela.

T'ela leans back in her chair, watching the events with interest. She's content to get her fighting kick by watching K'iss apparently. Grinning, she murmurs, "That's how, K'iss." Turning her head, she grins at Kae. "If I'd have known it was this intersting in here, I wouldn't have spent so much time reading this morning."

Ouch. Puokano does his best not to wiggle and squirm. "/I/ believe that they owe me an apology," he nearly growls out, reluctant to give in. "I am the model of a Holder's son, and I'm certainly not a child. Perhaps you need to go see a mindhealer -- ah!" Geloe is spied, and a hand snakes out to point towards the entering brownrider. "There's one right now. Just in time."

Kaeralla chuckles softly, nodding in agreement with the brownrider. "You know, he started it. But it's been so amusing watching it all play out. You really ought to have come earlier."

Justa minute, Tami, K'iss is busy right now. "As I said, Child, I can do this all night." he repeats. "A proper Holder's son does not go around putting the weyrs down. If it weren't for us, your precious hold would have been destroyed by Thread long ago." K'iss has a one-track mind and can be very /very/ stubbourn. K'iss was born and raised a weyrchild, and /does not/ tolerate weyrs being badmouthed.

Cue the timely entrance of the brownrider. Geloe - on one of those random urges to get away from Azov, and probably Jeyre for a time - saunters in, brushing off her jacket absently, though she pauses in the doorway to watch the, ah, show.. before making for the middle of it, cheerfully enough. "You're a model, all right," she notes, upon hearing Puokano's words. "Weyrsecond, leave off this nonsense. No violence or threats of violence in your weyr, eh? Gives you a bad reputation, which reflects on your own." Oh, she's playing the voice of reason. "Not that I'm sure whatever he did doesn't /call/ for his disembering, but. And apologize, kid, else I really doubt I can do much for you." Not that she wants to. And yes, she has a knack for putting her nose in business, her's or not.

"K'iss--" Tamial is equally one-track, and still nursing some residual K'iss-irritation to boot. "If you won't speak to me aside, you may regret it. Will you -please- come away from him for a minute so I can talk to you? NOW?"

T'ela is enjoying herself immensly, and laughs herself, rather loudly. "What a pompous little lordling, huh? You'll have to fill me in on what I missed later." Brownrider returns her attention to watching what seems to be degrading into a general fight, her rin dimmng only slightly when Tamial and Geloe step in...
"Southern Boll Hold is beholden to /Fort/ Weyr, not Starmount," Puokano stresses. "Really, I'm only telling the truth about this place -- if my father'd known just how horrible it really was, I would've never been fostered here. I've been to Fort, and it's nothing like Starmount. People are respectful." Nearly as single-minded as the Weyrsecond, the little lordling just sits there and glares.

K'iss growls as Tamial tries to pull him away from his intended victim. And, finally, he lets go of the lordling's neck, but not before aiming a nice punch for his face. "That! Is for disrespecting my weyr. I'm not through with you just yet, do stick around and see what /else/ I have in store for you." A loud trill is heard from the bowl, presumably where Jaeith sits, by the shadow in the doorway.

Kaeralla nods briskly. "Rather amusing no? Don;t worry, I'll fill you in." Kae's almost taking a posetively glee in watching the action.

Tamial catches her breath, swears briefly and coarsely under her breath, and tugs hard at K'iss' shoulder. "Geloe," she snaps over her shoulder. "A hand, please." Right, ask the NON-Starmountian.

Xalea has withdrawn from the conflict completely now, residing by the fire with her back to the room and a plate full of food as she nurses her klah. The expression on the girl's face is hidden.

Geloe might be out of practice in knife-fighting, but there's the sort of reflexes that never quite die, and the sort of sense that ends up expecting possible actions. 'Speccially when a certain lady outside is all nicely bright and shiney. And so she moves to - rather briskly, face set, and perhaps slower than she needed to be - block said punch, managing somewhat, before inserting her bulk between proddy greenrider and holdbrat. "Oh, bloody /children/." Someone's old enough. Almost. "And of course, Tami. WeyrSecond, if you will sir, follow her?" And she intends to leave Puokano to his own devices, of course.

Sholani walks through the door from the bowl.
Sholani has arrived.

K'iss aims another glare Puokano-wards, and moves with Tami, growling.

"Owwww!" Puokano wails, he does, composure breaking down as fist glances across his manicured complexion. Hands fly up to cover nose and the rest, and the fosterling quickly scoots his chair somewhere away from the greenrider. "Ow! Ow! I'm going to have to go see a healer now -- I /knew/ that weyrpeople were barely civilized! You've probably broken my nose or something." He casts a thankful glance towards Geloe, adding, "You've saved my life. Who knows how hard that've been if you hadn't gotten in the way.."

K'iss then turns back to block the entrance to the caverns, growling just as her rider does, wings stretched irritably. Why must people upset her rider, hmm?

Tamial all but drags K'iss out of hearing range of the Holdbrat before laying into him. "What the -skies- were you doing pulling a knife on him?" she hisses, bristling like a feline. "Weyrsecond or not, that was the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do! And then to punch him? I don't care what sort of condition Jaeith is in right now, nor what he said, but that was inexcusable. He has -no credibility-," she adds fiercely. "His insults mean -nothing-. WHY didn't you let Jindra deal with this?"
 
Sholani twitches slightly to avoid green dragon as she pops into the cavern... and apparently into a rather messy situation. "Timing," she mutters. "Always great timing." Eyeing those feuding, she takes the long way around on her way to the hearth.

"Could have been worse all right." Kae calls out to the lordling. Drat, it all, she wasn't supposed to talk to him. Wasn't how all this got started. she leans back in her chair, putting her closer to her friend. "So Tae, isn't this wonderful fun?"

T'ela snickers at the Holdbrat, nudging Kaeralla with her elbow. "So what exactly did he say to you, Kae?" Something not too bad, let's hope. "This *is* great fun. But it can get better..."

K'iss growls further, "I didn't pull the sharding knife, though I could have. It was very tempting." And he doesn't keep his voice down, oh no, let Puokano hear, let the weyr hear. "He had /no/ right insulting Xalea, or the weyr. I don't care if he's Faranth's own son!" Growl, hiss.

"This is -my- area," Tamial retorts, hard-voiced. "-I- report to Jindra, and he's a resident. -You- deal with the riders, sir, and he's not that. Thank Faranth," she adds acidly. "I fear the thought of him proddy. If you had left it to me, I'd have dealt with it -without- creating an incident that will no doubt get back to his precious father, who doubtless sent him here because he's impossible to deal with. In the future, will you please let it be?"

Puokano hardly thinks this is wonderful fun. He glares over his hand at Kaeralla and T'ela -- and then throws another fit as dripping blood comes into his line of sight. "I'm /bleeding!/ That stupid rider made me bleed!" cries out he, horrified at the nose-bleed.

K'iss snorts. "Oh yes, stick up for the lousy no good holdbrat. That's it, that'll help a lot with his spoiledness." And then, he'll shake his arm free from Tamial and growl, moving towards the exit, and making sure to pass ever so close to Puokano.

Sholani skirts her way around to the nearest simmering klah pot, pausing in mid-reach for a mug to eye Puokano. "Awww. You poor thing."

Breathe deeply. Tamial does so, staring not-quite-literal daggers after K'iss, then moves decisively back toward Puokano. She whisks a napkin off a near table and drops it toward his lap. "Now. You and I," she says, "are going to have a talk. And you're going to listen -- not talk. Understood?"

T'ela smirks at Puokano. "You're bleeding? Oh *no*! Someone call the healer, *quick*!" Voice dripping with sarcasm, she snickers, glancing at Kaeralla to see if the girl's having nearly as much fun as she is.

Puokano shrinks back from the greenrider as he attempts to drip away from his clothing. A tentative smile -- a real one -- is cast for Sholani before attention shifts to Tamial. He snags the napkin and attempts to speak around it, voice muffled. "We are? Can you get me back to Boll?"

Kaeralla frowns. "He called me a drudge and said I ought to eat in the kitchen since I worked with the runners." Tae is duly informed. "I'll admit that made me angry and i said some things I shouldn't have, but still, it was unprovked."

Geloe notes with what might almost pass as geniality if one wasn't listening closely, "Yes, he might've blooded your face a bit more, poor darling." The brownrider follows K'iss and Tamial enough that she's certain that the greenrider isn't going to try to make a break for it - towards Puokano - while angling back to keep between the two. She watches after for a moment before stepping back towards the holdbrat and offering, "If your nose is broken, I can set it. And quit /whining/, will you? It's /hardly/ becoming of anyone, no matter how much they were raised to believe a little sniveling will have them their way." A head tilt is what she offers Tamial, almost.. amused. Some steel beneath the sweetness? Well, yay. Of course, 'Loe /knew/.

K'iss ducks down the tunnel to the Bowl.
K'iss has left.

Tamial smiles, too, but it's a tight, angry smile, and Sunspark bristles on her shoulder, hissing. "Oh, yes," she says precisely. "I can ask Weyrwoman Jindra to have you thrown out. But you don't want that." She pulls up a chair with a bang and sits down. "You have problems with the way this Weyr is run. Fine. You will, in the future, bring them -directly- to me. -I- will evaluate them, and deal with them if -I- deem it necessary. You will cease complaining to anyone else. You will cease insulting the residents -- or informing them on their faults." Speaking each word crisply, she finishes, "Is - this - clear?"

Sholani quirks an eyebrow, snickering softly, before turning back to acquire much needed liquid warmth. Glancing around for a free (and safe) seat, she murmurs in passing behind the lordling, "My, you do seem to have earned yourself a lot of friends here."

Puokano doesn't? Oh. He does, however, remain quiet for once until the appropriate time comes for speech. "Clear," he grudgingly awknowledges. "I would, however, like a couple apologies. There was never any reason to hit at me, or threaten me, or anything. I was as polite as possible."

T'ela's amused grin slowly starts to go south, the begins of a fierce frown forming on her face. She remarks rather loudly (and angrily), "He said *what* about you? He called you a *drudge*? *He* needs to be eating in the kitchens, or better yet in the stables, with his own kind - the herdbeasts!" Gee, she's not *trying* to work herself up or anything. "But worse - you just *let* him say things like that about you?"

"Your version of polite doesn't match anyone else's," Tamial points out, the tension easing -- slightly. "I agree that he shouldn't have hit you, nor threaten you. I do not agree you were polite. However, I will deal with that." When is he going to wonder why a Trader is laying down terms? She glances sidelong at the others, but Puokano is the more immediate problem. "My weyr is out in the bowl," she says, nodding that way. "Somewhat to the southeast. It resembles the entrance to a storage cavern, because we needed the space. I'm sure you can find it. There will generally be someone there who can reach me if I'm not there. -Any- problem you have, comes to me. No one else. Got it?"

"If you were being as polite as /possible/," Geloe inserts dryly, "then you need a lesson in proper etiquette, for which I'll offer for free. I remember how you were yammering /last/ time I was here. If it was anything near that, I can see why K'iss snapped though I refuse to defend it." Of course she won't. 'Loe's better at picking her punches, when she decides she's going to get violent. And she continues to simply stand, arms folding comfortably.

"Maybe everyone's version of politeness needs to be modified," Puokano indignantly replies, keeping napkin to nose in an attempt to quell the blood. "Who're you to tell me what to do and not to do, anyways? You're a trader." With two weyrmates, perhaps, but a trader none-the-less.

Sholani reaches, trying to tap Puokano's shoulder. "What in Faranth's name did you -say-, anyhow? And ice'll help with that. Tip your head back." She glances toward Tamial, though her words are still aimed toward him. "She doesn't -sound- like any trader I've ever heard. Didn't she say she reports to Jindra?"

"It isn't your place to modify everyone else," Tamial says with a shake of her head, hushing the still-upset Sunspark. "This isn't your Weyr, nor your home. You," she says, "are a guest, and acting extremely rudely for one." To the latter she smiles slightly, nodding -- barely an inclination of the head. "Yes, I am. I believe I mentioned that. I think I also said that I'm not just a trader. Lord's son, you need to learn to find out everything before you make assumptions."

"Nothing important," Puokano responds to Sholani defensively. A glance is given to Tamial as he follows instructions and tilts his head back. "She's a trader -- an /important/ trader -- who helps the Weyrwoman with things." That's his impression, anyways. "I found out as much as you'd tell me," he shoots back to that trader. "You said you were a trader. So that's what you are. Just like I said I was Lord Boll's fourth son, and that's what I am."

Sholani chuckles, drifting to a nearby seat. "Important enough to get you decked, apparently. Well," and she inclines her head, half to drink, half in acknowledgement to Tamial, "If she's that important, then I'd advise trying not to tick her off." Her eyebrows rise. "Funny, I though Lords' sons were taught manners. Ah well..."

"You found out as much as I cared to tell you," Tamial corrects. She leaves the chair, pushing it back in neatly to the table's edge. "Given how you were acting, I wasn't much inclined to speak with you." She returns to the hearthside, settling down there, where her plate's been cleaned by various firelizards. The klah is cold, but she picks up the mug anyway. "You also have been trained in Steward duties," she points out, but breaks off to shake her head at Sholani. "No, we went over that. Don't encourage him." And back to Puokano. "I am a trader, but I also Impressed Khavrineth at an Azov hatching some time past. Because you can't see the dragon, don't assume she isn't there."

Puokano's only comment is a soft, "Oh." Considerably quieter -- nicer, even -- he peers towards Tamial, lips pressed tightly shut. He doesn't even quip some sort of disparaging remark for once. Probably because he doesn't relish the idea of another punch.

"Maybe you need to learn to hold your tongue?" Geloe suggests helpfully. "Think logicaly. Never, ever assume rank will get you everywhere, and it certainly won't in a weyr. Here, people tend to earn whatever respect they're offered." An amused glance is sent back towards Tamial, however. "Well said, Weyrwoman. You're to be admired." Then she turns back to offer towards Puokano, "Lift the napkin, and let me see? If it's broken, it likely will have to be snapped back into place, unless you want to heal with a bent nose. But your luck, it's likely only bloodied a bit. And with some ice and a towel, you'll be as good as ever." Unfortunately? Probably.

Sholani smirks slightly, but gives an amiable nod in Tamial's direction. "It's so much fun... encouraging... though." She gestures slightly with her mug. "Crooked nose'd be a badge of honor."

Tamial nods. "Better," she says. "Silence causes considerably less fuss." She sighs, tossing the dregs of her klah mug into the hearth to pour herself another. "Thank you, brownrider," she adds to Geloe. "For the help and the words. She's right, Holder's son. If you insist on being just that, no one will ever know you for anything else. I'd suggest you start over. Try being a bit quiet, and treating everyone as Lords and Ladies. Things get done much more quickly, and you might find even drudges are worth knowing." Breathing quietly, she shakes her head, just a little, and finally turns an eye on Sholani. "Now you," she decides with a tilt of her mug to the girl, "I don't recognize."

Puokano obediently lifts up the cloth to show off his nice, bloodied nose. No bones broken, at least. "How bad is it?" he worriedly inquires. He steals a glance at Tamial, frowns, and points out, "But they /aren't/ Lords and Ladies."

"Chance of birth," Tamial says with another shrug, sipping carefully at the hot klah. "By chance of birth, I was a trader's daughter, and looked to be nothing more than that. You could as easily have been born a drudge." Her mouth quirks and she adds, "Though perhaps you wouldn't have stayed one. Even drudges have opportunities."

Sholani's lips thin into a tight smile. "I wouldn't expect you to. Weyrwomen don't often associate with potscrubbing fosterlings, I daresay. Specially ones arrived only yesterday. That's the way the world works, ma'am." She pauses to watch Geloe's administrations curiously.

"This one does, if possible," Tamial returns with a smile of her own. "My adopted sister is a potscrubbing fosterling. A trader and weyrling now," she adds, flicking a look at Puokano and back. "My name is Tamial." She frees a hand, offering it palm-up to the girl. "And it's a pleasure to meet you. I try to know everyone in the Weyr, but I'm not always quick enough."

Puokano doesn't like that idea and contents himself to simply scowling as he awaits Geloe's judgement. He peers towards Sholani, interest piqued. "You're a fosterling? So'm I. I'm Puokano, fourth son.." he trails off hesitantly and hastily amends, "Kaigi's my fostermum."

The girl's eyebrows rise in half-suppressed surprise. Covering Tamial's hand briefly with her own is an automatic gesture in her startlement. "Tamial, Khavrineth's rider. That was your dragon's name, you said? It was long, I remember that... And I'm Sholani." Her hands wrap around her mug again, tightly, as she nods to him with a faint grin for the correction mid-sentence. "Yeah. V'denar's -supposed- to be, uh, watching me, but he's busy enough he shoved me off on some poor woman down in the caverns."

Tamial nods, clearly easing with the conversation. She settles back again, hands warming on the mug. "Khavrineth, yes. Just Tami and Khav are perfectly all right, though. We're not very formal up here." She stresses this slightly, eyes on Puokano for a moment. "And we rather like it that way. It's a pleasure meeting you, though. If you need anything at all -- blankets, warmer clothes -- you're welcome to come by and ask after me, as well." She grins fleetingly at the rider's name, and nods again. "Well, you won't lack for help, I promise."

Puokano rises from his chair and attempts to slip away into the lower caverns, replacing his napkin. "I'm, err, going to go do chores or something," he mutters by way of excuse. Lie, lie.

"Do that." Tamial clears her throat, arching a brow at the boy. "Don't forget what I said. Everything comes to -me-. First."

Sholani's eyes light up, and she turns on a sudden bright smile. "Not very formal is a good thing. Some folks are rather stuffy." She glances down toward herself with a slight blush. "I might just take you up on that, Tami..." She trails off to watch Puokano go with a grin. "Do have fun!" she calls sweetly, and giggles.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." Puokano rolls his eyes, back turned to Tamial, and hurries out of the main cavern.