Tilla is Searched

Ista Weyr: Sable Sands(#3306RJM)
The Sable Sands, Ista's place for relaxation and entertainment in a child-free environment, stretches out before you. Once an old ground-access weyr, the place has been turned into a nightclub catering to riders and weryfolk alike. Dark shadows drift over booths that line one wall, the conversations and actions of the booths' occupents afforded some small sense of obscurity and privacy from the rest of the bar. Glossy black tables and chairs are scattered across the middle of the floor before the stage that sits opposite the main doors, while a long bar lines the opposite wall from the booths. The bar is a fine piece of furniture, its brass fittings shining bright and wood polished to a fine sheen. Brass-legged barstools covered in soft black leather are pulled up to its counter, often crowded as still other patrons push up to it to make their orders. Tropical plants fill in the corners, their huge pots set on rollers so they can be pulled outside during the day. A discrete sound system can be found recessed in the walls, piping either recorded or live music as the day dictates to every corner of the club.
A wide selection of wines, spirits and juices can be ordered from the barstaff, and a constant pot of klah is kept brewing. Towards the end of the bar, a large machine can be seen, its copper fittings gleaming in the light - a klappachino machine for those with more 'refined' tastes.

Once again, Tilla seems to have been stuck scrambling for the morning shift, and they weren't even kind enough to give her patio duty. Everyone and their mother is inside the cool atmosphere of the Sands this morning, away from the sticky, clinging mist hugging the world outside. Even for the relief of cool stone and lower ambient temperature, it remains unpleasantly warm near the bar where the regulars have crowded in to begin drowning their sorrows in the bottom of the bottle. The transplanted young woman bustles among nearby tables, delivering orders with speed, if lacking any certain grace.

L'ton waits for a long moment at the entrance, gaze sweeping the Sands for an open table, spotting a couple leaving from one of Tilla's, and its in that direction that he heads, picking his way around people as he goes, before pulling out a seat, and settling into it, grinning in Tilla's direction with a bob of his head. At least he's awake..

Tilla hurries over to L'ton, hastily gathering up used plates and cups and juggling them awkwardly. "Hello!" she greets the rider breathlessly. "What can I get for you this morning?" One of the cups teeters dangerously, threatening to fall before Tilla readjusts her arm and rebalances the load.

L'ton automatically offers a hand to prevent the tumbling of any dishes - particularly as they'd likely end up on him - gaze glancing to the other tables nearby. "Mm, just kla' fer now - sweetnin' too." And he flashes a grin at her as he slouches down in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he does so.

Tilla smiles nervously, her cheeks pinkening. "Ah, sure, coming right up!" She bustles away with the dishes, reappearing with a mug, a klah pitcher, and a small pot of sweetner. "If you need anything else, just wave your hand and I'll be right over."

L'ton nods, with a smile at her, pouring himself a mug as he watches her, noticing her rushed appearance. "Ya canna be the only one workin', can ya?" A testing sip of his klah has him quickly adding three heaping spoonfuls of sweetener, though the majority of his attention stays on her.

Tilla grimaces, "This section? Yes. And this is always the worst section, being so close to the bar.." she jerks a thumb towards the bartender lazily serving rounds up to the handful of people occupying the low stools. <re>

L'ton considers this for a moment, glancing sidelong at the bar and the bartender, and then the others around him, before looking back at her and pushing the chair across from him out. "Sit, no one needs you at the moment.. Until then, join me."

Tilla looks around and shakes her head regretfully after a moment, "I'd get fired for sure, but I can stand here as long as I like so long as I don't ignore anyone." Her mouth twitches, as if she's trying to decide whether to frown or smile.

L'ton waves a hand. "Ya shouldn't worry about that. Dun be so hesitant. Ya gotta have fun." Pausing, he sips at his klah before glancing at her again. "What's yar name?"

Tilla lets her face once more twist into a grimace of anxiety, "Fun comes when you're done making the marks for it." She bustles a towel out of her apron when the bartender looks her way, making as if wiping the table down. "Tilla, and you?"

L'ton grins at the mention of marks, pulling a half-mark from his pocket, flipping it between his fingers back and forth. "Ah'll give ya this if ya'll sit and talk ta meh. Ah'm sure Ah can explain it ta yar boss.. He knows meh.. Wingleader L'ton." He does give the guy diplomatic business, afterall.

Tilla just sort of stares for a moment at the rider. Her fingers tug nervously at the towel, threatening the fabric by the very strain of her indecision. "I don't accept bribes.." she says slowly, "and if I lose my job over this I'll certainly remember who to thank." Something about the way the last part is said implies that her thanks wouldn't be very pleasant. Just the same, she reluctantly sits down.

L'ton shakes his head slightly, glancing at the bartender and inclining his head before looking back at Tilla, leaning back with one arm dangling over the back as he watches her. "So, Tilla… Do ya just work here, or wha? Ah haven't seen ya round, Ah dun think."

Tilla continues to fiddle with the towel in her lap, staring at it rather than looking at her tablemate. "I've not been here long, I suppose I arrived just about after the time your queen had her flight if the time it takes to incubate the eggs is at all correct. I've been working here, making money to save towards the future. Usually I work out on the patio though. One of the girls got sick and I'm filling in though."

L'ton flicks his fingers at her. "Ya are the one out on the patio, then, hm?" And he considers this for a long moment, busying himself with sipping at his klah. Stirring it absently, he glances back at her. "That would explain things then.. ya got a second ta step outside with meh? If'n yar tables can spare ya.. Ah promise it won't be long."

Tilla hesitates, working her jaw a few times. She stands hastily and signals to the bartender for her break. He inclines his head and she turns back to L'ton, "Just a few minutes." she warns.

L'ton nods quickly, getting to his feet, and finishing off the klah in his mug, before motioning her towards the exit. "Just a minute, Ah promise."

Ista Weyr: Southern Bowl(#3560RJ)
Compared to that of other weyrs, Ista's bowl is small, and incomplete - northwards, one wall was blown clear away several millenia ago, leaving the view clear towards the plateau, the jungles, and the ocean beyond that. Somewhat elliptical, the breadth of the bowl seems to run Northwest to Southeast, the bustling epicentre of the weyr being here, towards the southwest. Several large entrances have been dug into the great bowl walls here - north east are the hatching grounds, south the Living Caverns, these being the two largest caverns in the weyr.
To the east, a small entrance leads in to the ground weyrs - the ledges of these line the bowl wall above, often filled with dragons of gold or bronze; westwards is another ledge, but with a staircase built into the wall, allowing access to the Sable Sands. The infirmary is located towards the southwest.

Menea nods her head, "I see. Well, I think your hands would be more tired than anything." She states, shrugging. Another glance towards T'shar and she smiles again. "Good to hear you think you're alright, at least." Another nod and she continues with her folding. "A swim sounds nice…"

Dhonzayth has settled as close to the Sable Sands as he can get, crouched low to the ground, tail twitching back and forth, back and forth, waiting for something. L'ton then, heads out from the Sands, and towards the bronze, resulting in a deep rumble.

Tilla trots along to keep up with the taller rider's stride. "Where are we going?" She asks nervously, reluctant to enter farther than the outskirts of the bowl. Her fellow waitresses often joke at the sort of time the young woman takes to skirt the bowl to get to the other side instead of walking straight across when a large number of dragons are out sunning. Probably because for all of her friends' reassurances she isn't positive none of them is going to roll over or sit on her. Wouldn't do to be dragon pancake after all.

Tristevan nods a little bit, "Well just make sure you don't get too much sun." He stands up and brushes himself off, "A swim could hit the spot right now." He pauses as he sees the rider get down and waves to him, "Good day L'ton." He spots Tilla too and waves to her, "Hello Tilla."

Leoth rumbles a soft greeting to his rider, opening his eyes, as his rider comes in and scratches his eyeridges.

L'ton motions Tilla over towards where he is standing, seeming rather distracted all the while. As he continues to stare at the bronze, the dragon's attention shifts to Tilla, a trumpet, and then L'ton grins, just waiting. "Come on, now, 'e won't hurt ya.."

T'shar moves towards the edge of the bowl, "Well, I think I need to go cool down, you two can join me, if you want to, but…" He drifts off, his eyes going distant as he continues on his journey.

Tilla flinches when the dragon trumpets. "I know he won't hurt me," she says, though not adamently. She inches forward, "He isn't going to TALK is he? Ae'ran's dragon Ne-fith.. or something like htat.. he tried to talk to me. I don't think I liked it much.." Her eyes roll just a little, but still she approaches the bronze.

Dhonzayth is satisfied with just staring at the teenager, and to let L'ton do the talking. "Naw. 'e just says that ya're the one 'e keeps noticing, and that ya should be a candidate, if'n ya want. He was worried, when ya weren't on the patio today."

Menea nods once more, "It would." She notes idly. A wave to Tilla and L'ton and she offers a smile and greeting to both. "Hello, you two." A glance at Leoth and she offers the dragon a wave, "Hello, Leoth." She chimes in greeting. Another wave towards T'shar, "I'll see you later then." Her gaze does return to the laundry and she returns to her folding, idly looking up to watch the scene.

Tilla looks from the dragon to L'ton, a dumb look stuck to her face. Uncomprehending at first, a light suddenly turns on behind those glasses. "You-" a finger points emphatically at the dragon, "want me?" the finger turns towards herself as her voice rises steadily in pitch until she's squeaking out the last few words, "to be a Candidate?"

Dhonzayth snorts in amusement, echoing a draconic laugh, as he sits there, L'ton's face mimicking him with a similar grin. "'e does. If'n ya want, a'course. Ah mean, ya don't have to."

Tristevan looks at Tilla and grins as he waits for Tilla's answer. He moves over to Menea and plops down next to her to watch her fold laundry. He puts the gloves on his knee, "Looks like we've got another neighbor."

Tilla's face starts contorting, it isn't a pretty sight. Her eyebrows come together in a "v", one eye widens, her lips part, twist up one way, down the other. Finally all these bizarre movements stop, to be replaced by a huge grin, "Are you KIDDING? Do you know what my folks would do if they knew I was in a weyr, let alone if I was going to get anywhere NEAR a chance to be a rider?" She puts her hands to her throat and makes comical choking noises, "They'll die! I'll do it!"

L'ton laughs softly, glancing sidelong at the two candidates there. "Ah'm sure Ah can guess. Mine wun talk ta meh, at all, since Ah got here." And then he glances sidelong at the Sands. "Ya can move yar stuff, when yar done with yar shift, then.."

Tilla reaches up, running her fingers through her frizzy hair. As usual, her fingers get caught and she spends those few moments that should be dignified trying to free them from the nest of inevitable tangles. Finally, she sketches a bow to the big dragon and his rider, "Thank you! Wow.. Wait til I tell Ves!"

Menea laughs softly as she watches Tilla for a moment, then, looking back to the folding. She continues, idly nodding to Tristevan. "Looks like it." She states simply, offering a light grin towards the clothing. A peek up and another laugh slips, though, not holding this one back as much. Her head shakes, a smile lingering on her lips. "Interesting, don't you think it'll be, Tristevan?" Folding the clothes, the pile winding down. "I can't wait to see the outcome of this hatching, either. I'll tell Z'lren about it, if he doesn't make it. When I get back, of course."

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