Jhishivyl Is Searched

Logfile from Dea

You take off, soaring out over the bowl.
Sky Over Southeastern Bowl

Ftoranth winks into ::between::!

Above Ista Hold

You go to the Flower Gardens.
Flower Gardens
Four cobblestone paths cross the large garden to meet in the middle, stretching to four iron gates in each of the cardinal directions; the largest is to the north, an intricately wrought cast iron gate dominates the entrance, half concealed by the ivy clinging to it. The paths meet at a raised 'pond', a large birch tree growing nearby disrupting the symmetry of the gardens to provide shade and rest, the last coming via wooden seats below. Gardens of 'flowers' mark the corners, the colors dazzling and the smells sweet. In the northeast corner, a small, white gazebo is nestled cozily, covered with an abundance of flowering vines.
It is a spring afternoon.
Gliding above is a blue firelizard.
Alain and Jhishivyl are here.

Jhishivyl scowls deeply, because scowling deeply is an artform— and artforms are what interest him the most. That, combined with the perfectionistic attitude, leads to the.. dumdeDUUUM… Perfect Deep Scowl(tm). Sketchbook tucked smartly under one arm, a heavy duty sack tossed over the other, the young Harper's beelining for the gazebo.. and working on avoiding apparent 'gorgeous, sexy, intelligent healer's that walk around with quirked eyebrows. Yes, he does footwork to avoid the Al. Scowl deepens.

Ftoranth dives in, bonzai!!!!!! Flowers, beware, the big brown IMP is here. Dea is screaming, "FToranth! I'm going to skin you alive and make slippers out of you!"

Andron slinks in from the Gardens Entrance.

Alain is not so easily avoided, though he is gorgeous and sexy and everything else listed. He spots something male and youngish moving toward the gazebo—and since that happens to be his personal seduction spot… Okay, maybe not. But in any case, he does angle himself toward the harper and catches up with him quickly enough. "Want me to carry that for you?" he asks, appearing at Jhishivyl's elbow. A glance is directed toward the rider and dragon, but doesn't make any mention of them.

Jhishivyl is sardonic enough to lift a smirking face to the entrance of the brown, making a mental snapshot of /that/ picture to sketch, later. But right now, picturesque gazebo is what he's interested in. Brown eyes flicker from above to.. still above. Being short really sucks. "I'm fine," he half-grouses in rough baritone, hugging the sketchbook closer to his side. "Thank you." Frosty, but he's learning manners. Really. He eyes Alain for a scant milisecond further, before continuing his traipse. Traipsetraipsetraipse.

Ftoranth diving into a bed of flowers, the big brown, sighs with relief. Dea grumbling at him, "Ftors, I oughta …." Dismounting, she examines damage. "I said, I wanted flowers for Z'diah. I didn't mean for you to dive into them."

N'ano walks nonchalantly in from the Gardens Entrance.

With no better reason to be out than the simple reason he -wants out-, Andron enters, whistling horribly off key. Hands are tucked in his pockets as he navigates the gardens with an eye towards the spring planting. He eyes Alain from afar, but says nothing as he leans over to look at a few rows of young buds. Green eyes slant briefly towards Dea, Andron picturing Jebediah's reaction to any damage dealt to the gardens. It isn't pretty.

Traipse? Even Alain doesn't traipse. But he does trail along behind Jhishivyl and try a new tactic. "Nice out, isn't it? I hate the spring, but it really is nice out," he adds. And why in Faranth's name would he hate the spring? Ask him. But there's something else that he -does- like which happens to be invading his mack time…none other than his own personal manager. If you want to call him that. "Andron!" Well, at least he does actually seem happy to see the man. And just -how- did he spot the man. Paranoia, my dear. Paranoia. All that glancing around is good for something. And as if anyone could miss Andron's entrance anyway…

" Shards man, y'don't make it easy, do ya? I had to go through seven drudges to find where y'were!" Simply because N'ano can not trust others with the secret package reserved for the ex-warder himself. "Got the stoh, hi," goes the sudden greeting to the little group gathered. "Hey Deawas that Ftoranth out there eatioh, nevermind." As if N'ano didn't notice the brown at this moment in time? He really didn't. "Uhy'see that?" All those dead flowers around the brown? Yeah.

Jhishivyl blinks slowly at Ftor. Slooowblink. Then, all of his attention is kept on ignoring Andron- because Andron is the evil Pern version of the equivalent of the antichrist (at least, so Jhish thinks), and trying to valiantly ignore Alain. "It's fine," he mechanically states, plopping down in a section of grass a fair bit away from the gazebo. Well, duh. He wants to sketch it, not sit in it. N'ano.. apparently isn't noticed, as Jhish is far too self-absorbed for anything like actually noticing people around him— or is he? There's a question.

Dea straightens up as her brown moves off the flowers. "go to the Beach Ftors, I'll join you later." Ftoranth grumbles but moves off. "Out Ftoranth! Fine example you set."

Andron rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, ignoring MacDaddy Alain to turn attention on the -real- MacDaddy: N'ano. "Yah, well, I didn't want anyone able to kidnap me back and tie me up with Risana and a bunch of reports. She's, well, -you know-." He waggles his eyebrows in a manner that would ensure a smack from any decent woman; N'ano ought to understand. "Did you need something? Maybe a few flowers for the Weyr?" That is added with an amused grin at Dea and the brown dragon, Andron looking around overtly for any wrathful gardeners. Only then, he lifts his head around to Alain, nothing more provocative than a slow smile offered. "Hey," he says. Simple. He blows a kiss at Jhishivyl; he made such a lovely fruit.

Well, as long as Andron is ignoreing him in public, he's free to do as he likes, and Alain does. He moves over to drop to sit by Jhishivyl—at least he has the decency to not sit in his lap or anything. On the other hand, he values his life. "You're a harper?" he asks at length. "Seems to be a lot of harper-artists," he adds abruptly with a nervous little laugh. "Seems like harpers don't make music anymore. It's like healers that…that specialize in death," he finishes a little lamely with an embarrassed chuckle.

Nefret sashays in from the Gardens Entrance.

" Yeah, kinda like 'em chicks back at the Weyr. I know what y'mean." How about a smack from -any- woman? "Ahsorry man. Flowers ain' my thing. Althoughwell, maybe for Jozz? I think she likes 'em," N'ano replies, tucking his hands into his pockets after setting the package-o-booze down. "Anyway—I brought y'two of that special stuff 'n one of the other. That 'right?" He can only hope. "'n I think I forgot one of yours 'fore…" "Hey." Oh look, N'ano just noticed Alain too.

Jhishivyl lifts his head at Alain's words, to catch the sight of Andron's blown-kiss. The apprentice offers a dour, /dour/ look in reply, as he opens the sketchbook and digs in his sack for charcoal. "Try sayin' that while in the rehearsal room," he mutters at Alain's comment of there being no harper-musicians. The Healer earns himself an Odd Look(tm) at that last comment. "Healers, specializing in death?" His ever-deepening voice cracks, ever-so-embarassingly, right in the middle of specializing, and Jhish.. scowls further. Grr. Charcoal, charcoal, wherefore art thou, charcoal? Deny thy darkness and refuse thy.. hidden spot.. er.

Nefret, as she often does, was going on an aimless walk trying to find a certain package that a certain green firelizard stole. And heard noises that sounded something like talking. Apparently, it was talking. "People!" she enthusiastically greets the crowd, before taking a second glance at what's going on. "… What -are- you all doing?" queries the messenger nervously.

Ftoranth instead of leaving the gardens start sneezing, huge slobber sneezes at anyone that gets in its way is going to get drenched. Flowers are mowed over by his tail. His wings starts to fan as he sneezes. Dea of course is drenched at the first get go.

Alain chuckles at the boy's voice crack, but doesn't mention it, merely nods. "Yeah. Specializing in death. Or something like that," he ammends, raising an eyebrow for Nefret's very -loud- appearance, but offering no more than a glance to the girl. Well, if he's anything he's attentive. "What do you specialize in? Do any people or firelizards or anything?" he adds, glancing toward Andron but once during his questioning. Maybe that's a new record, by the way.

" Sounds about right," Andron says agreeably, restraining himself from reaching out to snatch the drinks away from N'ano. He has more manners than that. Jhishivyl's reaction to his innocent greeting gets a bright grin that spells 'danger' in flashing, neon lights; Andron makes a mental note to flirt later. Hardly wounded as Alain finds company with the Harper, Andron leans forward towards N'ano with an eye on the 'package-o-booze'. He lifts his gaze to Nefret, briefly, voice an amused drawl. "Smelling the fl—eeeew." Clearly, he does not smell 'flews', so one must assume the last bit is directed at Ftoranth. Prissy clotheshorse that he is, Andron edges away from the flailing brown.

"Hey uhDea? Y'don' think he's catchin' whatever the heck's goin' 'round, do ya? Y'better get 'em back to the Weyr just 'case…" is N'ano's special solution to the snots flying around. "Hey," goes another greeting, this time towards Nefret upon her stage left entrance, and a simple tug at his own package is done in indication or reason for his existance among the group. "Oh'n I think there's some cake or somethin' in there—one of 'em baker girls has the hots for you, apparently. 'less she's tryin' to kill ya, but I doubt that. She insisted though." And a shrug 'n grin combo soon follows.

Jhishivyl seems tempted to charge off to who-knows-where, at Nefret's arrival. Why does everyone invade the gardens when he decides to try to draw anything? Murphy's law. Or Myrfyi's law, as it'd be. It shall be known that his charcoal is found, just about when Ftoranth starts sneezing— whups, that can't be good. A low, almost-concerned blink is slanted that way, before focus returns, near obligingly, to Alain. "Scenery," he replies nearly-mechanically. "Animals." A twitch, "My drawings of people suck." Whoa— and it wasn't even pried out of him! Aww.

Alain offers a dour look for Ftoranth's sneezing and grimaces as he repeats, "Scenery. People suck, eh?" He seems amused at that. But he fails to disagree. "I suppose they do…and I'm sure your drawings would be better than mine. Of course, I probably heal better than you," he adds with a smirk. "You ever draw a sick dragon? Or…a sneezing dragon?" he adds, another baleful look offered the brown.

" I've heard of you, I think … The Healer who solved the problem about that murdered Harper, right? The autopsy?" Nefret, the master of news, addresses this remark to Alain. "And you're smelling the flews, Andron?" She pauses a moment before looking again at Dea. "… Perhaps you need a towel. Can I get you one?" The sneezing doesn't look too pleasant. "And hi, N'ano." So many people, so little time.

Dea tries to shake off the dragon snot and sighs. "Nahh… he has hay fever. He gets this way when he's around flowers. Last time it was the rose garden at Gar that he demolished. We nearly got away with our hide intake. Saria took great pleasure at reaming the two of us after Natch's report. I had to help repair the damage." Ftoranth lets out a huge snotty sneeze as his tail cracks like a whip at the nearby roses.

Subtle as a brick to the head, Andron moves so that the Weyrleader stands between himself and Ftoranth. "Good idea," he adds helpfully, hands tucked in his pockets with a certain amused look around N'ano. He'll just stand here, thank you. "What's that about a cake?" The package is eyed, lumps shaped more akin to what he would expect from wine or liquor regarded more favorably than the sweets. "You'll have to make sure to return my undying love to this mysterious baker girl. Use some trite line about sweets being -from- a sweet, rather than for, with my thanks." He pauses, glancing over at the 'master of news'. "Never mind, Nefret," Andron says, the younger girl offered a pained look as Andron gets a vaguely pinched set about his features. Nefret, instant headache; he means that affectionately, of course. "Uhm, maybe, you know, he ought to get -away from the flowers-." Andron does not find the prospect of rebuilding the flower gardens pleasant.

" Yeah Dea-kinda, y'know. Gross." Draggie snots. Everyone's dream. "So how many beds of flowers does that make, anyway? Y'know, ruined?" Smirk. With a cheeky grin to follow, N'ano bends over, scooping out the bundle of cake to toss 'tween his hands before handing it over to Andron, "There y'go, man'n I'll uh, be sure to relay the message, eh? I think she's 12." And N'ano must be jealous if she's not worshiping himself. Sniff.

Jhishivyl twitches slightly. Just slightly— between the flowercrushing giant, the talking trio of Dron-N'ano-Nefret, and— well, Alain, he's had enough. Stoic Harper's face freezes over for a moment, and the ration of Person:Jhish ends up just too great for his current state of mind. He shuffles his stuff together and hops up to his feet, muttering a soft, "Never drew one of those, no— 'scuse me," to the Healer, before quick-stepping it out.

Jhishivyl walks to the Garden Entrance.

Murder? Well, that word always catches Alain's attention, super-sleuth that he is, or something. "I wouldn't say I solved it," Alain replies, shaking his head slightly. "I just gave them the evidence I found…they made the decisions themselves. That's what…harpers do," he adds. But then his harper is fleeing! No! He watches Jhishivyl flee and blinks in surprise, hopping to his own feet after a moment and, with no excuse of his own, following the boy off. He, of course, offers Andron a little wink as he passes him.

Alain walks to the Garden Entrance.

Dea finishes cleaning herself off, "Honestly Ftoranth, if you have left me off at the Beach then let me come here, we wouldn't be having this problem." The big brown rumbles something, giving one last sneeze. "Settle down, will ya?"

Nefret smiles amiably at Andron. "Have you seen Harper's rehearsal hall lately?" Her innocent greeting smile toward the man has turned into a devious grin. Watching Alain and Jhis depart, they only get a blink before Nefret turns back to N'ano and Andron. "Something happened with the banners, you see, Andron … they turned -orange-."

" Twelve, eh?" Andron's -daughters- are about that age, give or take a turn. He scratches the tip of his nose, fumbling the cake to his other hand. "Gee. Thanks, N'ano. You always know how to brighten a man's day, I'll tell you that." He mimes wiping a tear, tracking Jhishivyl's exit with a suspiciously amused twitch of his lips. "Kids these days. No social graces, any of them. When -I- was that age…" Well, actually, when Andron was that age he hit on anything that moved. He nearly misses Alain's exit, wink caught with a broadening of his 'suspiciously amused twitch' to a full smirk. "So. Nefret. Orange you say?" What Andron doesn't say, for all that implies it with his knowing grin, is 'job well done'. "That's quite interesting. I wonder how -that- happened."

" Come along Ftoranth, I need a swim and you need to get away from these flowers

Dea says, "Come along Ftoranth, I need a swim and you need to get away from these flowers"

Ftoranth> You go to the Gardens Entrance.

You go to the Gardens Entrance.
Gardens Entrance

Ftoranth> You go to the Gather Meadow.
Ftoranth> Gather Meadow

You go to the Gather Meadow.
Gather Meadow

Jhishivyl and Alain are here.

Dea is heading through to the beach. She is covered with snot. Ftoranth is still sneezing but not as badly as he gets away from the flowers. "I told you, you big IMP not to go near those flowers! But no, you won't listem to me." But Ftoranth lets out one huge sneeze directly at Alain and Jhishivyl. "Ftoranth! NO! I'm so sorry. Did he get you?"

" Not worth it," Jhish abruptly announces, tone accented with Fort's clipped tones. Brown eyes near-scathingly gaze over and upwards at Al; "Might 'swell go back to the gardens." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, and is apparently talking about Al, not himself. "I.." He then almost-gets-showered-in-dragon-snot, quick reflexes managing to get him (mostly) out of the way. "Just the boots," he grumbles, stopping and staring down morosely at his shoes, eyeballing Ftor for a moment afterwards. He nods to Dea, stiffly, and beelines back for where he was heading— towards the hold valley. Antipeople, much?

Ftoranth has other ideas for the harper. His tail reaches out to stop him. "Here let me have them clean. Why don't you come with me to the weyr and I'll buy you a drink and have your boots clean?" Dea coaxs. "Please? Ftors doesn't want you to go."

" Not worth wh—" Omygawd, dragonsnot everywhere. Because what Jhishivyl seems to have done to keep from getting covered in it was to step behind Alain. The healer stands a moment, arms slightly out to his sides, and tries to fight off the impulse to vomit. "That…is…disgusting," he drawls out. He would appologize to Ftoranth if he didn't fear more dragon snot in his mouth if he openned it again. "Any -particular- reason you chose to follow us and sneeze on -us-?" he asks in a less-than-obliging tone, levelling a disapproving look on the rider, which he will have to appologize for later.

Dea sighs, "Look Ftoranth is sorry he sneezed all over you, harper. I swear. he likes you and he thinks…." She blinks, "He thinks he wants you to come to the Weyr as a Candidate for Miyakath's clutch. What do you say? I'll even throw in a new tunic and boots?"

Jhishivyl stops— well, when a dragontail is presented in front of even Jhish, a person's obliged to stop. He flickers brown gaze past Alain- who's snotcoveredness is noted with a shudder of disgust- to blink over at Dea. "Sorry, ma'am, I can't leave the hall area," he replies to that one, flicking at his knot. It would not be good to be discourteous to a dragonrider, so he.. actually says a full sentence to her. Wow. Al, for his disparaging looks, gets a wideblink. Blink. Well.. he reconsiders, as the massive damage of dragonsnot is accounted for.

Jhishivyl ammends his previous pose by blinking slowly. ..Blink. A look to the tail in front of him, to the poor snot-covered Healer, then o'er towards Dea— finally to the brown, and he shrewdly narrows his eyes. "Tailored tunic or off-the-rack?" comes the off reply, as he's apparently— well. The boy's shellshocked, but he ain't gonna /show/ that.

Alain blinks between Jhishivyl and Dea, and rolls his eyes. Hel/lo/? He's the one covered in dragon snot. But he's hardly in any position to hit on anyone at this point. "Maybe I'll see you ab—uh?" He, at first, seems to think Ftoranth is asking -him- to stand, and just gapes at the dragon. Then he sort of notices Dea isn't looking at -him- but at the harper, and he heaves a…relieved sigh? Well, it does seem so, doesn't it? But who can leave now? Dragon snot or not…he's terribly curious to watch someone get kidnapped and ravished by the Weyr.

Dea turns to Alain, trying to clear her head of Ftoranth's insistents and her need to get cleaned up. "Whoa! Sorry Healer. Why don'tyou come too? Not on Search but I can get you a new tunic and boots to help pay for Ftoranth's accident? Please, I owe you a bottle of wine for all this." Ftoranth, now that he's away from the flowers, seems calmer and really seems to like the harper. Dea, of course, is Searching Jhishivyl but is trying to make amends for what Ftors did to both.

Alain waves a hand deadpan and replies, "Thanks, but I don't favor going between in dragonsnot. I'll just…go bathe." How kind. "Er…thank you for the offer, though." And that's as civil as he's feeling right now, all things and slime considered.

Jhishivyl leaves Alain to Dea— or is it Dea to Alain?— as he meanders closer to Ftor, inconspicuously. Edge, edge, inching edge. Toe scuffs for a second, and dark eyes look up 'neath the fringe of unruly hair. "You sure 'bout that?" he mutters the question at the brown. "I mean, new tunic and boots is worth slave labor, but— you /sure/?" Oh, gawds, Jhish, quit being unnaturalistic and actually cute. Apparently, though, Jhish means it- not intending to answer 'till Dea tells him that Ftoranth's absolutely sure.

Dea hmms at Alain, 'Well, I could fly straight. Ftoranth knows the way. And it isn't that far." Ftoranth snudges Jhishivyl a bit in apology. He would do the same to the healer but isn't sure he would get a friendly pat.

Alain waves a hand and wipes off his face with the other, just keeping away from Jhishivyl at this point. After allhe's not looking his best. "That's alright, rider. My regards to your…uh…lifemate." And with that he fleespresumably toward the baths.

Alain walks to the Beach.
Jhishivyl watches Alain flee with masked gaze, and lifts a hand to tentatively offer Ftor a scritch. Then, he flickers brown gaze back towards Dea, and wets his lips slightly. "Well.. tunic and boots tossed in, I guess I can't -not- accept," he states, very belatedly. Well, of course- he's like that, with his belated roundabout ways of saying yes.

Dea sighs as she realizes she's set weyr and healer relations back another decade. "Well, let's go and get you cleaned up, harper. by the way, I'm Dea." Turning to Ftoranth, "Watch your step."

You clamber up Ftoranth's neck and set yourself between two neckridges.
Ftoranth [Gather Meadow]

Jhishivyl quietly squints up at Dea. "I'm Jhishivyl," he replies, a bit belatedly. Yes, that's his middle name. With a trepidious look upwards, he awkwardly climbs up.

Jhishivyl clambers up Ftoranth's neck and settles in between two neckridges.

Dea grins, as she buckles herself in. "We can fly straight or go between, which do you prefer? And buckle yourself in."

Jhishivyl buckles himself in, after a moment of confusion. "Whichever ye prefer, ma'am?" he replies tentatively, working on his manners. Yes. He doesn't want to be eaten.

You take off.
Above Ista Hold

Ftoranth winks into ::between::!

Sky Over Southeastern Bowl

Ftoranth blinks in from ::between::!

You spiral down for a landing in the bowl.
Southeastern Bowl

You slide gently down Ftoranth's neck and land with a soft thud.
Jhishivyl slides from Ftoranth's neck and lands gently on the ground.

Dea smiles, "This way. We'll get you settled and clean clothes."

You go into the living cavern.
Living Cavern

Jhishivyl walks in from the Southeastern Bowl.
You go to the South Caverns.
South Caverns

Jhishivyl walks in from the Living Cavern.

You go to the Candidate's Barracks.
Candidate's Barracks

Jhishivyl walks in from the South Caverns.

Dea sends a drudge running for a cot. After a few minutes the drudge returns dragging a big heavy cot for Jhishivyl.
Jhishivyl searched.

Dea grins, "There ya go, you are all set. Enjoy your candidacy and obey the rules and have fun."

Jhishivyl nods at the 'instructions'. "Yess'm."

Dea with a wave, "See ya."

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