Catch up with L'dor
Living Cavern(#25RHIJM4) Late Spring. Rain. 62F / 17C.
Huge, still mostly the natural shape of the bubble cavern that formed it though embellished with intricate columns, the living cavern is large enough to seat over two thousand people at any given time. Gleamingly clean, the space is clearly well-kept by the hard work of the lower caverns staff. High in the eastern walls, narrow windows allow slants of light to dapple the room during the day, a plethora of glowbaskets in well-spaced niches around the cavern provide a warm, ambient glow after sunset. Many long tables are placed around the room, providing plentiful seating, some boasting chairs around them, others sturdy benches that seat ten at a time. The walls are decorated with a set of simple color-block tapestries and one that's more ornate, recently restored, depicting the settling of Benden during Torene's time. The cavern has a welcoming, homey feel to it in spite of its size.
The exits from here are pretty clear-cut: A set of handsomely carved stone steps lead up to the balcony-style kitchen that wraps around the cavern; a tunnel on the eastern wall slopes upward just slightly on its way out to the bowl; the southern tunnel slopes downward steadily as it dips into the Weyr's inner caverns.
-- Players --
Z'ael..........Tall, lean and charmingly muscular. He has dark tan skin, black dreads and pale green eyes that stand out in his face.
L'dor..........29, dark hair, blue eyes, tan. Looks fit; rather thin & gangly.
-- Exits --
Kitchen..................[N] Bowl.....................[E]
Inner Caverns............[S]
It's towards the end of lunchtime, and what's left at the serving tables is looking a little thin, though the cavern - or the part of it that's in use, anyway, as Benden's inhabitants still don't fill it - is still busy with diners coming and (mostly) going. L'dor's one of the latecomers, and he's piled himself a plate with bread and cheese and a few odd bits of salad and poured a mug of not-quite-fresh klah. He scans the cavern, looking first at the table where his wingmates usually gather, and then glancing around more generally, before giving up and plonking himself on his own at the end of the nearest half-empty table.
Z'ael has just finished eating, a simple mug of klah in front of the Weyrling now. He's also got something unusual. A small flat wrapped package with a note attached. He picks up the parcel, turning it this way and that. He sips klah, and keeps eyeing the package.
L'dor has worked his way through two slices of bread and about half the cheese, apparently lost in thought about something-or-other, before he stops eating long enough to notice who's sharing the table with him. His passing gaze settles on the weyrling and he half-lifts a hand from the table in casual greeting. "Afternoon, Z'ael. How are you and Trith getting on?"
Z'ael nods. "Very well. She's become one of the most physically coordinated greens in the class." He grins at the package. "My younger sister sent me this as a late impression gift. Something about she couldn't get the marks up to commission it until recently."
"Good for you," L'dor says, raising his eyebrows just slightly at the boast. He grins, though, as his eyes drop to the package. "Younger sister, eh? I used to have one of those. Aren't you going to open it?"
Z'ael nods and unties the package, pulling the coverings off. "Hmmmm..... its a journal!" He exclaims happily. "The note says 'Z'ael, happy impression. This will help you remember the good times of being a Weyrling.'" He reads the note aloud. "Oh yeah, I have a ton of brothers and sisters."
"That's a nice idea." L'dor glances at it without that much interest. "She thinks you'll have time to write in it, then? Though I suppose by now things might be settling down a bit. How many's a ton? I just had one of each, and that was enough sometimes."
Z'ael shrugs. "Well, maybe right before bed." He says with a chuckle. "You know girls and their diaries." He snorts. "Thats okay. I think this is a great gift. You know what they say about the thought counting."
"True," L'dor agrees. "My sister's presents were mostly edible - don't think I've got anything she gave me." He frowns a little as if trying to think of something. "She made a pretty good meatroll, though. Spicy. Don't think I've had anything like that since I've been here. Your dragons are what, three months now?"
Z'ael Nods. "Three months." He aggrees. "Trith is getting /big/." He grins. "Her jealous streak still hasn't gone away though. She's pretty possessive."
"Yeah?" L'dor lifts his eyebrows a little, and picks up another piece of bread but holds it rather than eating as he goes on, "Well, that's common enough, I suppose. As long as she's not being a nuisance about it, it probably doesn't matter much when she's this young. Have the weyrlingmasters said anything to help?"
Z'ael shakes his head. "Not really. Just that if I get upset when she acts jealous it will make her worse." Z'ael tells L'dor. "Well. It hasn't been that much trouble. Just that she's stubborn."
L'dor nods. "Probably would, at that. You have to keep calm with them, and not give in if they dig their heels in - you've got to be the one in charge. Like having small children. But I expect you've heard that often enough that you're sick of it."
Z'ael nods and sighs. "Yeah, over and over again." Z'ael grins. "Well, I guess every weyrlingclass has to have its troublemakers." Z'ael opens the journal and turns a few pages.
L'dor chuckles. "Every class, or all but the smallest, seems to have its jealous one, its featherhead, its humorist - I'm afraid that was Banyth - as well as its terribly serious one, and so on. And, say, she's not doing anything terribly dire, is she? I mean, one of the previous classes, we nearly landed on someone who'd insisted on going to sleep in the middle of the bowl. In a thick fog."
Z'ael nods. "Nothing terrible. Though she is a bit snotty to the other hatchlings sometimes, and very reckless." Z'ael sighs. "A definate handfull."
L'dor winces. "Oh dear. Courage is good, but recklessness - well, you'll be wanting her to grow out of that. Recklessness can get you both killed. But I expect you're sick of hearing /that/, as well," he finishes ruefully.
Z'ael nods and sighs. "I am." he closes the journal. "Speak of the devil. Trith says she's hungry. See you soon L'dor." he tells the bluerider.
"Good luck," L'dor replies, which perhaps isn't too encouraging. "Clear skies," he adds, and raises his bread in a gesture that substitutes for a wave of farewell.
Z'ael relates Trith's jealous streak to L'dor.