Ista Weyr - Hatching Galleries
A tiered series of bleachers, their surfaces worn smooth from centuries' worth of use, with stairways on either side for access. There is a broad railing carved from stone to prevent onlookers from falling down. During a Hatching, thick and comfortable pillows in the Weyr's colors of black and orange are brought out to cushion the hard seating, and drudges come and go to bring refreshments to the spectators. A walkway at the top and back of the gallery continues through a tunnel to the west. A brilliant, vividly colored mural is painted across the walls.
Stuck in the galleries, this is probably NOT where Cenlia wants to be. Unfortunately, her dragon seems to have other ideas. And the poor weyrwoman has nothing to do but sit and stare at the chickens. Because of course, there are chickens. There's also paperwork, but that's been shoved off to the side where it can serve as an armrest. Currently, a sleepy chicken is perched atop it. Cen herself is parked over by the railing, wrinkling her nose as Nziekilth nudges as a mound of sand, though the huge dragon is totally trying to look like she /isn't/ in fact turning the eggs. Cen rolls her eyes at her. Zeek pretends not to be fussing over another egg mound. The chickens, of which there are three, occasionally cluck, neat bands around their legs having small string tethers, which are tied far back, and actually seem to be keeping them from running amok all over the place. It's early morning, and despite the hour, the smell of rum is in the air. Except there are no booze bottles. There's plenty of chilled juice, though. And rumcakes. A /lot/ of rumcakes, all piled high on a plate Cenlia is wisely keeping away from the chickens, who have their own feed and water dishes.
Bleary-eyed and pajama-clothed there's a little harper wandering around the wear. Lids half down and nose in the air, the harper sports a lovely baby blue blanket tied around her neck. It's super Sora….well, that or she's just been being weird again. Every few feet she gives a little sniff, slowly but surely making her way up the stairs and into the galleries. Features suddenly wrinkle as she smells…"Chickens? Again?" Eyes pop open and the harper gives a quick look around, lips quirking into a smile at the sight of the fowl. Rather than focusing on those for too long however, Sora moves first to Cenlia, and then the rumcakes, and then to Cenlia again. "Good morning….oh wondrous Weyrwoman Cenlia." Her voice comes in a joking and not-so-subtle pleading lilt. She wants the rumcakes.
Cenlia leans against the railing, one foot hooked on a low rung, the goldrider just.. /eyeing/ the chickens. She looks totally suspicious of them, like they might want to steal her plate of precious rumcake. Of which there is a lot. But not for chickens! Maybe for super-Soras, though. It's definitely way more than Cen could ever eat on her own, at least in one sitting. The weyrwoman's gaze drags away from the suspicious poultry toward the wandering harper, her brow quirking somewhat for the girl's attire, though she doesn't comment on it. Cenlia herself is in plain beige clothing, the kind that is loose and airy, perfect for work out in the gardens, which is probably where she'd rather be. "Chickens," Cenlia states, in a tone not reminiscent of the way one might talk about the weather, "Happens." Yep. In Ista, chicken just happens. "Want one?" she must have noticed the sniffing, or maybe Cen just isn't opposed to sharing, though it's debatable whether she's offering the rumcake, or the poultry. Her own grin tilts crookedly for the greeting, though, a head-bob offered Sorayah, "Would be a better mornin' if I could get outta this place. Ugh, hotter'n a sauna in here," though thankfully, the galleries are high enough from the sands that nothing's in danger of cooking, and the stone cavern is at least not humid.
"Maybe I can get the beastcrafter's to train the chickens to cluck in harmony and use them to accompany me." Is she kidding? For all intents and purposes, the harper sounds quite serious and even bends down to look the chicken in the eye. The staring contest goes on for a bit longer before Sora erupts with a loud, "HA! You lose!" Weird one. Victory over the chickens achieved, Sora flops down, giving her blanket cape a little flick as she straddles the seat and shoots a grin towards Cenlia. "Yes please!" Assuming it's the rumcakes being offered, the harper reaches out for one, nibbling on it and closing her eyes. It's a rather long while before she comes up from her rumcake eating and the harper looks rather sympathetic when she does. "Can't say I envy you one bit, I enjoy the breeze. Heat is definitely not my thing. Maybe you can wrangle a couple of weyrbrats to fan you while they look at the eggs." One side of her mouth curls up in an amused smile at the imagery she's thinking up. "Or move a big tub up here, fill it with water, and sit around in it all day. I like that idea. It'd freak any visitors out." Cackle.
Cenlia blinks slowly at the idea of harmonic clucking chickens. "..They train firelizards to do that sometimes," is offered a little blankly, with another suspicious look sent toward the wandering poultry, "Dunno if them lot have smarts 'nough fer that sorta thing." Still, the staring contest between harper and bird is watched with some fascination. A slight snicker does escape, at least, for the losing chicken, Cen commenting wryly, "Better luck next time," and holding out the plate so the winner can claim a piece of rumcake - kind of like a winning prize, except Sora would probably get one anyway. Cen takes her own piece of rumcake to nom, munching it with contentment, though a glance at her bottles of juice earns a twitch. She eyes it like maybe she could will it to turn into booze with her MIND. Except it doesn't. So she pops the top off one and takes a awig anyway, offering again to Sora, "Peach juice is good, if ya want any," indicating the other bottles, "Shipped over from South Boll." Eyebrows go up for the suggestion to hire some 'brats, and a lopsided grin appears, "Ain't a bad idea, that. Or mebbe some of them candidates. Or.. shards. Chop a big keg in half, stick icewater innit, just chill fer awhile." Cen has to snerk, at the thought of freaking out poor visitors that way, "Oughtta do that, watch some visiting Lord Holder try t' keep a straight face." Possibly, she's joking, but then again, this is Cenlia. Lady of the shovel. She might not be joking after all.
"Guess they are kind of dumb. No offense Chicken Man." There's a slight nod of her head in loser chicken's direction before Sora returns to rumcake munching. It isn't long before the rumcake's gone and juice is being offered. There's suspicious eyeing of the juice and the harper sniffs it for good measure. Apparently finding it safe, Sora takes a swig as well, licking her lips as she lowers it and beaming. "It's good! Wish I drank this more often. I'm making it second on the list of most awesome foods. Right after rumcakes." She offers the bottle back to Cenlia before leaning back and giggling. "Add it to the official list of candidate chores." Vigorous nodding is given for the keg idea. "Best to fill kegs with water." It means they're not getting filled with booze obviously. A round of snickering ensues at the thought of visiting holders ensues. "Just have your meetings in the keg right here. Bet they'll be so freaked out they'll agree to anything. Though…the meetings would probably be pretty short too." Chin is jerked in the gold's direction as an explanation.
The chickens cluck, peck about, and wander. Cen watches them idly, if with a bit of lingering suspicion. "Should be getting another shipment soon. Will have 'em out in the caverns. Dunno when there'll be 'nough peaches from our own orchard," the goldrider's grin tilts crookedly, "Mosta them get turned into brandy. Is good stuff, though." There's nodded agreement about rumcake, however, "Best stuff on Pern next to a decent peach cobbler. Ever try a cobbler? Shards, oughtta ask the cooks to work on that, betcha it'd go well with the juice. Prolly with the brandy too." As Cen muses, she shifts away from the railing to plop down on one of the stone benches, setting the plate of rumcakes between her and Sorayah. As for kegs, Cenlia's head tilts a little, the weyrwoman pondering, "Never tried a booze bath, though. Might be nice," although she has to be joking there. "Back when I was a candidate, there was this one job, leadin' tourists 'round the island. Prolly worse'n most've the things candies gotta do, 'cept mebbe latrines," she makes a face at that, "Ugh, definitely dun't miss latrine duty. Woulda paid /marks/ to sit 'round holding a fan all afternoon." There's a chuckle, though, before Cen cants her head toward the sands, "Zeek dun't like 'em in here too long, sharding dragon." As for short meetings, there's a definite smirk, "Short is how I like 'em. Ugh, /shards/, some of them holders can talk an' talk fer candlemarks, an' the whole time everybody's starin' at the ceiling wonderin' when Rukbat's gonna go down."
"I know." Sora wrinkles her nose and looks sadly at the bottle of peach juice. "All that lovely juice turned into /brandy/." Someone hasn't gotten off her high runner on the alcohol subject even /after/ spedning turns at Ista. "Haven't had peach cobbler before. Might as well make a theme out of it for dinner if there are enough peaches. Creatively call it, 'The Night of the Effervescent Peach'……Do you know what effervescent means? Cause I don't. But it sounds cool, doesn't it?"" Leaving off babbling for a moment then, Sora grins at the placing of the rumcake tray and immediately snatches up another, nibbling on it quietly for a few moments before eventually making a face. "Booze is bad for your skin, but latrine duty? Ugh. I'm glad I never had to do any of that. No, my days were filled in stuffy little rooms with old men teaching music notes. /Much/ more pleasant." When talk turns to meetings again, dark eyes slide over to the chickens. "Ever thought about having a break in the middle of a meeting? Let in a harper to calm down the atmosphere. Maybe have a chicken /accidentally/ stowed in the harper's case. Chicken wreaks havoc. Meeting ends….wonder if it'd work."
Cenlia has to laugh at that, grinning at the harper, "Should try brandy, betcha you'd like it." The weyrmonan has to snicker a little at the lamentation, but she's picking up more rumcake with an idle, "Too bad there's rum in this," her tone teasing. "Effer-what?" Cenlia wrinkles her nose, "Ain't that like when booze is all bubbly?" She leans back on her seat, planting one foot on the railing and sliding down till she's comfortably slouching. "Figure might be neat to have a whole dinner like that, yeah, mebbe 'round harvest time. Different fruit fer every night. Can do some /nice/ stuff with spices an' fruits and the right meats. There's this baker in South Boll, does apple meatrolls, is kinda sweet, but shards if it ain't the best meatrolls I ever et. An' there's some cooks 'round here that'll add citrus to wherry. Ain't half bad neither." A brow is quirked at Sora, though, "Old men? All them teachers old men?" grin re-appearing, "Shards, sounds kinda borin', but harpering ain't my thing. Me, prefer wide open places an' lotsa good earth. But figure candidacy's all 'bout gettin' ua toughened up. 'Cause takin' care of a dragon, shards," the goldrider shakes her head, gaze going to the cols pacing the sands, "Ain't no harder job." Another laugh is for the chocken-toting harper idea, "Yeah, there's breaks in the longer mettin's, but when folks're busy plannin' stuff, they dun't like bein' interrupted. Hah, actually had a few times a chicken wandered in. Think Zeek did it." Cenlia tries to look innocent right then, but fails.
Sorayah makes a face and shakes her head, "No no, I don't think I'd like it at all. Booze is /never/ the answer." A look is given to the rumcake before the harper shrugs and waves it off. "Rumcakes don't count." Which is completely unreasonable, but this is Sora- logic has no place here. "Effervescent. But bubbly huh? I like that word." She'll just ignore the whole bit about it being related to booze and all. "Different fruit theme every night, huh? That'd be pretty awesome. Haven't really traveled much so I'm not up to date with all these amazing sounding foods you're throwing out….but maybe if this fruit nights thing works out I can be! Mom's a decent baker, but not exactly the best of the best, y'know?" At the quirked brow, Sora shoots the Weyrwoman a rather wicked grin. "Didn't say they were /ugly/ old men. Just old….er." Legs dangle loosely off the edge of the bench and the harper kicks the ground a bit, shrugging. "I don't blame you. I had to spend ages outside afterwards otherwise I'd go crazy all cooped up in that room. As for me? I think I'll stick to my soft life. Besides, not being able to hang with the boys for a couple of turns? Celibacy isn't on my to-do list. It's amazing though. Not that y'all were celibate. Just all that work and stuff y'all put in." Head tilts curiously, and Sora eventually bursts into laughter at the not so innocent look. "Oh man. /Zeek/ is so so evil."
"Booze is /always/ the answer," Cen counters with a huge grin, the rumcake eyed a second before she stuffs one piece in her mouth and munches all contented-like. After a swig and a half of the peach juice, the goldrider does snicker, "'Course it counts. Shards, there's more booze in this cake than in mosta the rum drinks they mix at the Sands." And given how strongly these cakes smell, that might even be true, ahem. "Will tell the cooks to do it," Cen promises, about the fruit nights and the foods, "Lotta different stuff you could do with fruit. Ain't just fer desserts." Another rumcake is taken and nibbled as the weyrwoman relaxes, happily ignoring the paperwork back over there, which still has a chicken sleeping on it. "Yer ma's a baker? Huh, m' cousin C'lom's in bakercraft. He's the one that sent over these rumcakes. Almost went into baking meself, 'cept I liked growin' food more'n makin' it," Cen grins, the following chuckle turning into an outright laugh at the talk of boys. "By the time I got searched, had me X'hil already, didn't need any other boys," her grin widens, "Shards, candidates get so much work, most dun't even /think/ 'bout that sorta thing, just kinda fall over tired at the end of the day." As for Nziekilth, Cenlia tosses an almost-fond look toward the sands, where the gold is.. again nudging at something while trying to look like she's not doing anything. Ninja-broody momma-dragon for the win. "Ain't none other like her," Cen takes another swig of juice, but then adds, "Just wish she'd lemme /leave/," followed by a slight groan, "Says if she's gotta be stuck in here, so do I."
Sorayah shakes her head stubbornly. "Nope. Not the answer. And rumcakes don't count. They're cakes." Poor thing, so buried in denial. "Now that you mention it though…." A dubious look is given to the cakes, but rather than dwelling, the harper simply shrugs. Rumcakes are rumcakes? "Cooking's not my thing. All I know about fruits is putting them in desert. But if someone can make food that tastes good with fruit that's not a desert? Sign me up. My mom's not a baker by trade though, she just does some on the side. Your cousin's brilliant, though I guess they're a little more….potent….to suit your tastes specifically, huh?" Cenlia's laugh is met with the harper's own giggle and crosses one leg over the other. "You lot are are amazing. I'll stick to my oh so weak constitution and stick to entertaining." Dark eyes follow the Weyrwoman's gaze over to the sands and Sora smiles. "Worth it all, huh? But hey, it's only fair, right? Sorta. Ok….maybe not really. But you gotta share the pain of those your love right?"
"/Rum/cakes," Cenlia insists, still teasingly, trying not to laugh outright at the harper's logic, but happy enough to share the booze, be it in cake form or bottled. The juice, though, is definitely not alcoholic, which is probably why Cen is downing it without any slurring speech. Still, it's cold, which in the heat of the hatching cavern, is probably the important thing. "My ma's the same, though she's a general cook in South Boll's kitchens. An' my da, er, he raises chickens," this causes her to make a face as she eyes the nearest bird meandering about, occasionally clucking or pecking around at things. "Dunno how anybody could stand them things," is added, Cenlia shaking her head, and maybe being none too thrilled with having to be stuck in the galleries with the critters. "C'lom could put booze in /anything/," the goldrider grins broadly, "Shards, bet he could make some /neat/ rum'd steak." The way her eyes light up at the idea of boozed meat is almost gleeful. "He's mostly a baker, though, ain't so great at stuff that's not sweet," she takes another sip of the juice and nods, "Yeah, he bakes 'em strong special, 'cause I ain't allowed to drink till th- er," cue some shifty-eyed glances and a dark look at Zeek, the weyrwoman snerking, "If'n I gotta be stuck in here, she should hafta share m' hangovers." From the sands, there is a deep draconic SNORT.
Sorayah pauses for a moment, brows furrowed in though. "Booze in food doesn't count." Very sound argument right there. Not. "Maybe the chickens have a deep and hidden love in their hearts that makes them endearing to only those humans with kindred souls and are brimming with love." The little explanation is given in dead monotone, but the harper can only hold it so long, eventually bursting into a tiny fit of giggles and clutching her stomach while shaking her head. "Oh shards, chickens. I can't stand them much either. But then again, I don't have to deal with them much." Definte eyeing goes on then, "Booze in /anything/? I….uh….no thanks." Making a face Sora sticks out her tongue in distaste. "Not allowed to drink till….?" For a second Sora sits back, pondering this. Cen not drinking? If she's coming up with her own ideas on the subject, the harper's staying mum….at least for now. "If you didn't drink booze there'd be no hangovers! I could get rid of it…." In less than desirable ways.
"Booze is food," Cenlia counters good-naturedly, grinning at the harper and munching on more rumcake. There's totally snickering for the monotone explanation, Cen making a face and saying, "Shards, them things're /awful/. Dunno how anybody'd actually /like/ keepin' somethin' like a chicken, though the little ones're kinda cute. Ain't as bad as wherries, but get one pissed at ya an' it'll chase ya up a tree faster'n a mad ovine." She says this like she speaks from experience. "Got beastcrafters workin' on a coop out past the orchard," she continues, "So's I dun't ever gotta deal with 'em, just hired some 'brats to take care of the things, an' Zeek can go stare at the lot've 'em all she wants." Of course, that probably doesn't work when the gold is on the sands, which might account for the poultry presence up in the galleries. Cluck goes a chicken. "Booze is good in most anything," the weyrwoman promises, "Just gotta get a cook good 'nough to incorporate it right. Rum'd jerky, rum meatrolls, brandies're good in stews an' fried stuff, beer's alright fer tubers, whiskey's better. An wine goes great with most anything, even fish." As she practically sings the praises of alcohol, another piece of rumcake is taken, and popped in her mouth. As for not being allowed to drink, Cenlia just makes a face and mutters, "Is Zeek's fault. Sharding /dragon/," to which there is another answering SNORT from the sands. Cen will just ignore the harper's offer of getting rid of the booze. She probably knows better!
Sorayah shakes her head, "No no no, booze is a drink. Food is something you chew!" There's nothing particularly insistant about it, but the harper remains in benign denial. "Maybe it's the fluffiness of their little selves? Or when it's like babies are cute until they grow up into crazy people and then they're not so heart-warming anymore." A quiet giggle is given to the up a tree situation. "That's the best thing to do. It's a waste of time if you have to spend any part of your day looking after chickens. Didn't y'all have chicken coop offerings to Zeek last clutch or something? I remember watching some chicken chasing, but not much else." Another wrinkled nose at the thought of rum in well…..anything. "No one's been secretly spiking our food with booze here, have they?" Suspicions suspicions. "Well I guess /technically/ it's not her fault….it's…" Sora shuts her mouth right there, literally biting her lip to stop herself from saying anything stupid. There is a tiny hidden smile though. And sweet Faranth, thank goodness Sora knows better than to actually do something to the booze supply.
"What about soup?" Cenlia ponders idly, "Or drinks with ice innit? Or them fancy ice an' cream desserts the folks up in Reaches make?" There's more amusement than curiosity in her voice, the goldrider grinning lopsidedly at the harper. "They are fluffy," she does agree about he chickens, "Kinda like canines. Ain't so fond of them things neither. Me, prefer /plants/ to just 'bout anything." Eyebrows do rise, though, Cen asking, "..Crazy people? Shards, got 'nough of those 'round here, yeah?" Or maybe eccentric is a better word for it. There is a nod about the last clutch, Cen saying, "Yeah, Zeek wouldn't let them candidates touch the eggs 'cause one went an' got all wobbly on the sands. Was a right pain. Had to bribe her with chickens or somesuch," the weyrwoman making a face, "Shards, hope that dun't happen this time. Ain't 'nough chickens in the whole of Pern." They /are/ extremely rare creatures. She stifles the groan behind the juice bottle, taking another sip and then nodding some more, "Sharding chickens. Worse'n ovines sometimes. Hired this beastcraft kid, one of Pi's lot, I think. Does a fair job keepin' 'em in line." A brow quirks, though, for the thought of spiked food, "Dunno, prolly not. Lotta food in Ista's got booze already, though. Them folks that dun't check the labels on the food trays're prolly gonna be surprised." As for whose fault it is, Nziekilth and Cenlia /both/ snort, possibly at something unsaid or mentally conveyed between them, though the goldrider then chuckles, "Sharding dragons." And that's all she's going to say about /that/.
Sorayah wrinkles her nose, now hard pressed it seems. "They are their own special category called edible nonsolids." Which means food, but maybe if she starts using bigger words she can get out of it!"Awww, but canines are so cute. And you can train them to /bite/ people." And this is apparently a desired trait. There's a small snicker about both crazy people and chicken before Sora reaches out for another rumcake and begins to nibble. "Ugh ovines. Nasty things. I'll leave that stuff to the beastcrafters." Check the labels? "I should double check mine from now on…." Brows furrow as she tries to remember last nights meal and some labels, but coming up with nothing. "Oh shoot…." Suddenly the harper is scrambling to her feet. "I forgot I was supposed to meet one of the Masters about a song composition. I'm so late!" A quick glance and wave is shot towards Cenlia before she begins heading out. "Thank you for the rumcakes! Try not to get too hot up here!"
"Even if they're made from booze? 'Cause booze freezes.." Cenlia is too entertained by this, really. But the topic of canines has her making a face again. "Can train m' firelizards to bite people, an they ain't half as ..slobbery. /And/ they set things on fire if I get my hands on firestone.." though possibly the creatures aren't as cute as puppies. "Sharding crazy people, them beastcrafters," Cen says, raising her juice bottle in almost-toast, though her look toward the chickens is entirely suspicious. Oh yes, she hasn't forgotten about them, and their possible rumcake-thieving, even if the birds are paying about as much attention to the cake as they are the girls. It's the /dragon/ which has most of the chickens eyeing the sands. Except the sleeping one on top of the paperwork. "Booze is good in most foods, done right," Cenlia, who never checks the labels, states with a crooked grin, "'Cept pickles. Dun't /ever/ eat stuff picked in booze. Uggh." There's a mild blink for the suddenly-scrambling harper, and a bit of a quirked brow, Cen chuckling and raising a cake-holding hand in farewell with a cheerful, "Take care!"
