Bubbly pies

[Rakuen]

Alysa’s stomach rumbled, making her groan. She was going to win a few marks playing cards in the dining hall but she was so hungry. She should have eaten more at lunch but the menu wasn’t very appetizing and she only ate a redfruit.

<< I told you you were going to be hungry before dinner! >> her blue told her from his ledge.
< Everything’s under control, Elyanuth, don’t worry! >

Worse than that, she could smell bubbly pies baking in the ovens from the kitchen. A real torture! She stood up, told her friends to wait for her a couple of minutes and headed for the kitchen, unfortunately well guarded. But Alysa never gave up, that’s one of her creed, so she pushed the door and entered, a large smile on her face, so large it dug small dimples on her cheeks. She held out her hand towards the table and some baked pies already cut in slices, but the Head Woman saw and threatened her with a ladle. Alysa frowned then smiled again before opening her mouth and shout out loud:

 « Oh no!!! A RAT!!! »

Immediately some women started to scream and she quickly took a slice from the nearest pie.

 « Ooooh you’d better put that down! » the Head Woman warned.

 « Or else….? » the girl asked innocently before eating her way through it.
 « Well I guess it’s mine now! » she added with a smile.  « Thanks a lot! »

And she quickly left the kitchen before the ladle rained down on her. She laughed and started running towards her friends but she didn’t look around first and what was bound to happen really happened: she ran into someone. She was going to apologize to the other person when she saw her slice of pie all mashed over that person’s coat.

 « Awww shards!… » she let escape before her stomach rumbled again, as if it understood it was not going to have more food before a long time.

She really seemed sorry but she was in fact only sorry to have lost her bubbly pie and not really to have ruined a coat which wasn’t hers.

[B'kay]

The Weyrleader....

B'kay growled down at the sheet in his left hand. Weyrleader, just the thought caused his mind to flinch. His right hand clenched tighter on the empty klah decanter. He'd gone through an entire pitcher of the hot liquid since his miserable morning with the Weyrlings had ended, and was stomping through the dining hall for a refill. What Weyrlings were left that is, and half of them still looked at him with fear and distrust, at that.

The hide sheet was full of cross-outs and ink blots, where the bronze rider had been attempting to rearrange the fighting wings to make up for the loss of the--

Deserters. Yes, deserters, that's what they were. B'kay knew the only saving grace to date had been the weather. Thread froze high up in the atmosphere in the winter. Once spring arrived, though, the Weyr would be in dire straits. He had been attempting to balance out the strengths of his riders--his badly depleted contingent of riders--all afternoon. His mood was sour enough to curdle milk when he'd run out of klah.

A small brown firelizard perched on his shoulder, a hank of black hair held tightly in a forepaw. B'kay had been attempting to grow out his hair a bit to cover the ugly threadscore scar, but so far it just stuck out every which way. The only one who thought it a benefit was Griz, who considered the constantly disheveled mane his own personal riding strap.

The Weyrleader had chosen to walk across the bowl, donning his winter flight jacket against the cold, hoping the fresh air would ease his mood, but it had only served to sharpen it with gusts of chill wind.

B'kay knew, as he wore his mood on the surface, that others would stay out of his path easily, thus he was reading over the scribbled lists in frustration as he walked, not paying attention to what was ahead of him.

Griz let out a squawk of warning ... a second too late.

The first thing B'kay saw as he felt the bump were the deep purple stains all over the front of the light tan wherhide, stains that would no doubt mar it for life.

He raised his black eyes a bit and saw the face of a young woman. He recognized her, he'd fought beside her, but B'kay being B'kay, the identification of the humans in his space had really never been much of a priority. He knew she was a greenrider--

Bluerider, the sleepy, grouchier than usual, voice of Syth interrupted with a correction, of Elyanuth.

What's the rider's name? he asked, still holding the young woman in his dark gaze.

How should I know? the deep bronze dragon responded and cut him off as he went grumpily back to sleep.

"Bluerider," B'kay said, his voice held under obvious tight control. Without a name, a designation would suffice. "Good afternoon."

[Rakuen]

Alysa finally stopped from making faces for her slice of pie to lift her eyes towards the person she had just bumped into. Her amber eyes widened under surprise effect as she recognized her Weyrleader. She really couldn’t have picked a worse time! She nibbled nervously her lower lip, wondering where to start
and telling herself that nothing could get her out of trouble now that she had seen the ranker’s touchy face. The latter finally shouted at her and Alysa was ready to stomach the moralizing speech about to fall on her but she just heard a « Good afternoon. » Nothing more… She rubbed the back of her neck, a little embarrassed, but keeping a large smile on her lips.

« Good afternoon, Sir! » she answered, her eyes twinkling with impishness as always.
 « How is your Syth feeling? » she added immediately to smooth things over.

Her eyes fell on her slice of pie and she noticed that it was lost for ever while she could hear the Headwoman laugh behind her. The young girl looked back and totally stuck her tongue out at her before going back to B’kay. She pulled on the pastry in order to clean as she could B’kay’s wherhide but she turned white seeing the indelible stains she was responsible for. She was in a real jam. How was she going to justify herself? To make amend?

 « I guess that he feels better than your jacket… » she added, pouting.

She shook her head, her two tails dancing from one side to another, and found a sudden interest for her shoes. She didn’t ignore that the Weyrleader was under pressure since some dragonriders went to Ikros Weyr. She would have done better keeping a low profile for once but the leopard can’t change its spots. She was good for praying her lucky star if she wanted to avoid an exemplary punishment.

( Everything’s under control, huh?! )[/color] her blue repeated with a slightly mocking voice to tease his reckless rider.

[B'kay]

B'kay stood silent as he watched the emotions flash across the girl's face, half hoping she'd get him out of his slightly awkward moment by providing her name. When she didn't, and simply asked as to Syth's welfare, however, it at least gave him something to say.

Weyrleader. This was honestly not a job the bronze rider would have reached for willingly, and now that it was laid in his lap, he sorely wished he'd seen the need to develop better people skills.

He was about to respond to the bluerider's inquiries about Syth, when he heard the headwoman chuckle. His jaw clenched ... the lower caverns staff had been a bit full of themselves since the "mutiny", and, though Araelen's headwoman was efficient and well organized, he had had to, several times, stop her from recruiting Weyrlings for menial chores during hours that he needed them for more important work.

Thus, when the girl turned quickly and stuck her tongue out at the woman, he had to suppress a smile.

Her subsequent comment about Syth doing better than his jacket sealed the inner grin. Pie-stains and all, he liked this girl. He'd make it a point to fit her into the wings in a spot where her spunk would do the Weyr justice.

If he could only remember who the heck she was....

A grouchy Syth, awakened once again by his rider's mental state, grumbled, Elyanuth says she is called Alysa. Must I do everything for you?

At that, the Weyrleader's dark expression lightened a bit, and he chuckled, ever so slightly, out loud.

"Syth is as impertinent as ever, thank you, Alysa," he said, "I pray that Elyanuth is doing well, also. As to the jacket -- it's just a jacket," he glanced toward the kitchens, a mischievous twinkle lighting his gaze for a split-second so brief, it would have been missed by most people, "I'll turn the task of getting the stain out over to the headwoman. As to you, Bluerider, I'll also make sure she offers a replacement for your ruined slice of pie."