Turndays And Books

[[Log file from Khaye]]

The kitchens, smaller than the living cavern, also feature rounded igneous walls, inset with gold specks of volcanic glass, although the gold seems far less deliberate here, more patchy and irregular. This seems like a natural lava tube, leading into the living cavern and dead-ending after a sharp turn to one side. Broad, scarred tables fill this area along with chopping blocks, dented copper pots, and a row of huge sinks, dug by ingenious method into the rock itself, draining to some unknown point and fed by clear cool water, perhaps from the same source as the artificial waterfall outside.
Gliding about are Fiendish, Armand, and Copper.
Obvious exits:
Baker's Area Living Caverns

Seif saunters, hips a-swing, in from the Living Cavern.

"Where is it, whereisit, /where is it/?" Khaelyn's on a rampage, storming around the empty kitchen, peering into a pot here, a pan there, a bowl way over there. Bang. Clatter. One of the not-so-gently handled bowls rattles around, clanking into a pot which clanks into a pan which clanks into a pot of klah which splashes, lands cold klah on Khaelyn's arm, and elicits a squeak of surprise and a hasty recoil before she realizes what it is and goes back to her search. "Where /is/ it?" Bang. That would be Khaelyn's leg running into a chair which has been placed in a very inconvenient spot. "Shardit!"

"Heeeeello!" Seif carols across the kitchen, raising an arm to flap it merrily at Khaelyn. "Hey, Khae!" Apprentice hops over some misplaced pots and pans with blithe grace, suffused in one of those I'm-so-chipper moments. "What are you looking for? Food? I'm hungry." The chair Khaelyn collided with is grabbed, spun, and straddled.

That Seif-is-chipper moment could soon turn into a Seif-is-chipped moment, the rate that Khaelyn's stalking around. Just after midnight, and someone — who coincidentally doesn't even reside at the weyr — is asking for food? While /she's/ searching for her stuff? This could get ugly. "Seif!" The chair is grabbed and dragged along with surprising ease, even with Seif in it. Must come from hauling all those firestone sacks. "You're going to help me look for my book. 'Cause it's lost. And you're here. And you can get your own food." Sure he can. He's a big boy. And once more, she's off, stopping her chair-dragging in the middle of the kitchen to go charging around again.

The Seif-is-chipper moment is morphed into a Seif-is-dragged moment; not like Seif cares — hey, he's getting a free tour of the kitchens. "Why should I look for you book? I didn't lose it." Herder beams, altering his position in the chair to one that appears lazier. "What do they have to eat here? I'm gonna starve." Eyes flicker to Inuus, admonishing. "He ate all my meatroll, shardit."

Khaelyn appears to be having serious qualms about just dumping Seif off the chair and throwing the klah on his face, but answers in a more-or-less curt voice, "You're going to look for it because you're here." See, there's a method to her madness. Or maybe there's just methodical madness. "They have /food/, Seif, the kind that you put in your mouth, chew, and swallow. Inuus knows what it is. Now help me look!" Bang. Rattle. Clatter.

"Do I /have/ to?" Seif whines, tucking dusty knees to his chest. "I dun' wanna." One knee is untucked, in order to scoot the chair backward in the opposite of the monster— er, Khaelyn. "I know that, you wherry. What kind of food? Pancakes?" Apprentice inquires, awestruck as a child would be.

"Tuber pancakes," Khaelyn grates out, peering into some huge container that comes up to her waist. "Disgusting." Whether the tuber 'cakes are disgusting or the contents of the container are is debatable. The fact that she's still looking is not. "Absolutely disgusting. And yes, you have to help." Because she says so. It must be kidlet influence — she must get a whole lot more of that whatwith 'brat duty.

Seif raises one hand, waving it authoritively at the candidate. "Fetch me some 'cakes, will you? And some juice." Oh! He can strike a deal. "Then, after I eat I'll help you look." The grin actually looks sincere. All the remarks about being disgusting are deliberately glossed over; /this/ herder has more important things to ponder, and whether the container, 'cakes, or some other object is disgusting is certainly not one of them.

Temper, temper. Khaelyn has more than enough of one when it's past midnight and she's still awake like this. It's just… not good. At all. She fetches a glass of juice, scoops up a few 'cakes, and heads toward the table. The juice is set ceremoniously on the table, whereas the 'cakes are plopped… atop Seif's head. "Breakfast is served," she chimes sweetly, lips touched upward in a sarcastic smile. With that, she goes back to banging around the kitchens, searching for her missing book. Bon appetit?

"Tha- Shardit!" Thank you is quickly melded into a bitter swear, as Seif retrieves one of the 'cakes from his head and.. throws it back at Khaelyn. "Ha!" The other is grabbed from his head, aimed, and promptly thrown at Khaelyn as well. In case she decides to throw any other foodstuffs at him, Herder quickly ducks behind the chair to sip his juice tranquilly.

Bang. Bang. Clatter. Thud. "Shards!" In sequential order, the twin 'cakes hit pans on either side of Khaelyn, sending both flying to the ground, one on Khae's foot and the other narrowly missing the same spot. She jumps, trips, lands in a chair, and glares at Seif, before giving it up and standing to settle all the upset pots'n'pans. Ugh.

Seif misses the glare, since his back is turned to Khaelyn. "Now, sweets, get me some 'cakes — not the ones I threw at you — put them on a plate, and hand them to me. Not on my head," he entreats over his shoulder, blinking slowly at all the misplaced pots'n'pans. "And that wasn't my fault."

Khaelyn scowls darkly, having placed both of the pots and pans where they were before and scooped up the tossed 'cakes to toss them further into the trash. "You're a big boy, Seif. I'm sure you can get your own food." If she gets it, it might end up on Seif again. "Don't go sweets-ing me," she mutters under her breath, plopping back into a chair. Must not be in the best of moods this late at night — or this early in the morning.

"Then I won't help you find your book. You're a big girl, Khaelyn," Seif mocks, stalking from his place behind the chair to retrieve the pancakes. "Why not? I think the nickname 'sweets' is cute. I could always call you 'wherry' or 'dragon-droppings', if that's more suitable?" A jeering sneer is cast over her as Seif passes, journeying back to his chair to eat in peace.

Will she squash Seif into wherry-size or dragon-dropping-size? We'll find out after these brief messages. "Just like most people think the name 'Seif' is cute. Unfortunately, that's a long-distance look at you," Khaelyn sneers right back, standing up in her chair to go thudnering all around the kitchen again. "What in Faranth's name are you doing here again anyway?"

Seif ignores the jibe from Khaelyn, answering with a curt, "I'm selling ferrets this time. Watch out, or I'll get one to bite your finger off." Or some other random body part, just depending on how hungry the ferrets are. A pancake is stabbed viciously with a fork, and the boy's agitated expression suggests he'd like to do the same to Khaelyn.

Khaelyn masks a burst out laughter as a sudden series of coughs. Ferrets like her. Or they better, if Seif comes near her with one. Didn't Rupa have ferrets? "I'll have to go over to Gar and get Surupa over here with hers, then." Another container is peered into, turned over — a purple ribbon falls out. Aha. "I found it!" Found what? "The book's in here." Ah, satisfaction.

Seif glares at Khae, unkindly, in the midst of swallowing a piece of 'cake. "So? Rupa's don't bite; they steal stuff," he notes acerbically. And, at the moment, Seif really doesn't have much worth stealing. The book receives the same glare of muted contempt; /that/ thing started the whole thing anyway. "Woo, congrats," he calls — not muting the satire — with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah. If we're lucky, they'll steal you," Khaelyn mutters, turning the container upside down to try and rattle the book out. The bookmark is — now to find the book. Thunk. She glances upward into the container, shakes it a bit more. "It's stuck." State the obvious, Khae. Rattle. A hand is poked into the container to try and pull her book out. Recoil. "Eeew."

Isn't Seif rather big to be stolen by ferrets? "Wuh'ver," he mutters through pancake, attempting to say 'whatever'. The bookmark is blinked at, slowly, as he seems to recognize it.. "Oh! Didn't Squaln give you that?" Seif forgot to get Khaelyn a present: cheap and cheerful, that's Seif!

If they're Rupa's ferrets, anything's possible. The ribbon is picked up, deposited in a pocket, and Khaelyn goes off to find some long thing or other to poke around in the container with instead of her fingers. "Mmhmm," she answers with a nod, prodding into the container with what seems like a chopstick. Poke. The stick is withdrawn, and Khaelyn's nose wrinkles. "Eeew." Maybe her book isn't in there — probably not, seeing as the container is half-full of mashed tubers. At least the ribbon didn't suffer any tuberizing.

Blink. Blinkblink. Seif observes Khaelyn and the chopstick, raising a 'brow as she searches for the book.. in a container of mashed tubers. "Um, I don't think the book is in there, Khae." Oh, look, he can state the obvious too! With a shrug, apprentice returns to complacantly consuming his breakfast — and gaurding it from Inuus. Back, mad firelizard, back!

Khaelyn's request, "Shut up, Seif," is followed by her leaving the container, plopping down in a nearby seat, and pulling out the hair ribbon to look over carefully. The thing's supposed to bring her good luck — or so Squaln says. It better not have bad-luck tubers on it. "Has Squaln actually been giving Aurifer sweetner?" she inquires, poring over the first side of the hair-ribbon.

Khaelyn finishes looking over her ribbon, satisfied that there's no vegetable damage to it. Good. Still lucky, she hopes. Seif is blinked at for a moment, before she seems to remember something — "Oh. Nearly forgot.." She reaches into a picket, fishes out a markpiece, and tosses it casually toward the apprentice. "Happy turnday'n'all." Snagging her own glass of juice, she heads out of the kitchens — no doubt to look further for her book.

You go to the Living Cavern.

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