Weyr Sale Pt. 2: A Captive

Ista Weyr - Living Caverns

Large enough to house the entirity of the weyr's population at one time, the cavern set aside to house the very heart of the weyr's life is a grandoise, somewhat circular affair, filled with rows of long tables. Bustling and busy, it is a rare moment indeed when there is not someone at work or leisure in here; the long trestle table by the kitchens is perpetually filled with plates and trays of food, a pot of something always bubbling upon the mahogany hearth, ready to fill the belly of any hungry resident or rider. Although a high table is set aside for seating respected dignitaries on formal occasions, most of the tables here are not designated to any particular group— rather, all levels of Ista's population eat together, intermingled across the broad cavern.
Great tapestries have been flung down the walls, orange and black borders remarking upon Ista's heritage, the age-faded hangings depicting scenes of importance to the Weyr— the erruption of the volcano; the first clutch; the view from the star stones, over forest, dark beach, and glistening waves of blue. Propellor-like fans have been affixed to the ceiling in more modern times, cooling the cavern on the hottest of days. Passageways lead up the stairs to the kitchens, down a second flight of stairs to the lower caverns, and out into the expanse of the broad weyr bowl.

The atmosphere in the living caverns that late afternoon is more relaxed than the previous days, especially with half the things gone and people slowly finding their ways to new homes. Making the caverns a little bit more breathable. "Where's that crate of Benden? Toss that one up first before I end up stealing it for myself!" comes the call from the Weyrwoman as she comes in, watching the setup for the 'expensive items' auction. They's a staged where said crate is being pulled up and a short balding man is clearing his throat. "Everyone? Everyone? Your attention please…?" Seats have been placed before the stage, as well as assistants with clipboards to write down names. All the while Ysa's staring at that crate hungrily.

Shorynia is at the back of the stage putting final touches on lot numbers. She smiles and waves to Ysa and deftly switches lot one with lot 5 to give teh Weyrwoman her wish. Her tiny new brown is chittering away, shouldn't that be 3, not 4, come on woman, you can do this better. It's a constant stream of verbal abuse from a four day old flit, oh the irony. Finally, with a sigh she has a few parting words with the auctioneer, then moves back out into the crowd, seeking the presence of a certain mindhealer.

Veski wanders into the caverns quietly. There's a vaguely suspicious look given around, though a moment later he continues on with Valkin in tow. He keeps a hand settled behind the boy's shoulders, steering him along. "Don't wander off." It's a soft, but firm order given. His son? Perhaps. There's a smirk though as he finds a place to sit, dropping into a seat with his legs crossing one over the other. "Heh..even a crate of Benden.."

Kadan comes in with yet another box. This one isn't so heavy. "HeadWoman said these could go." He looks around. "You got a place to put it?"

Indeed Valkin is being steered along, encouraged by the looks of it since his eyes are wide and his mouth is practically agape. There's several times that had that touch of Veski's hand not been on the back of his shoulder, his feet wouldn't have moved. Every person they pass makes the lad oogle even harder with his eyes giving away his awe at shoulder knots, clothes, and accents of voices. The soft word is taken literally and he steps close enough to bump into Veski, but even that subtle bump doesn't distract him from trying to soak in his surroundings. A bit more encouragement from the other has him sitting down too, "What's a crate of Benden?" The lad asks, shoulders straightening, face pitted forward, trying to look between heads toward the stage.

Zsadis walks with a long, confident stride into the caverns, his bold little blue flit peeking and preening from his place in a discreet pocket Zsadis had had sewn into his light shirt. Even as he walks with all the alpha-maleness of a Weyrleader, he coos and croons praise and idolic phrases to his hatchling 'lizard. There is an absolute bromance going on here, and it screams of ego. "Oh yes, my Zeal, we'll see if there's anything here for you, yes we will," and then they nuzzle, nose to muzzle. I kid you not. As the lovers near the auction station, they hear Ysa's voice ordering things about, and both look up. The little blue's forked tongue tastes the air warily and Zsadis runs a hand through his hair, moving his body into the fluid, loose posture best meant for seducing. She may be busy now, but who can ever be too busy for /him?/ He grins and makes his way toward her, trying his best to capture her attention. Seeing his intent, the blue flutters his tiny wings and makes a quick, zippy beel
Relaxed indeed - Hallac is sprawled on the floor behind the rows of chairs, flipping cards in a game with a little blonde girl that's at least half his age. "I win!" She shouts, scooping up the pile in front of the Seacrafter like the cheerful kleptomaniac she is. "Now you have to buy me something!" Hallac laughs, head shaking as he points to a rotund man across the caverns. "Go tell daddy, Esi. He said he'd buy you sugar twists." Face lighting up with a gasp, the little sprite turns and darts off, dress flickering about her ankles. Laughing to himself, Hal pushes up off the ground and cleans up the mess of cards she'd already left behind. "Messy little chit." He glances up at the mention of Benden, but tonight's likely going to be too expensive for him, so the boy finds a seat off to one side. He's here for the spectacles… like Zsadis. Snort, snicker.

Chaton steps in of his own accord, and goes to position himself in the usual place beside Shorynia without a word. Mercury, with his hat, look aroud at all of the people. So many people. Chaton grins. "Anything interesting up for auction, love?

"What's a crate of.." Veski pauses, giving Valkin a rather exasperated look, but then shakes his head a moment later. No point in getting frustrated with him, after all. "It's alcohol. I'll let you try some later." For now, he simply looks about the cavern, a slow gaze taking in the people there, and the items that might be for sale. "..Do try to stop looking like your eyes might fall out, Valkin." The boy gets a pat on the head though along with the comment, before his good eye flickers over someone else as they move across the cavern.

Shorynia smiles, slipping an arm around the eccentric mind healer, "Mostly just expensive art. Unless you think we have the marks for a whole case of Benden. 'Course Ysa might take it for herself anyway." She chuckles even as Mud rolls his eyes at Mercury and chitters, why do you let him treat you like a pet? Queen cuffs the much smaller brown sharply before even Shory has a chance, causing her to chuckle even more. Queen was definitely the alpha. Then she spots poor Kadan and removing herself from Chaton for the moment, makes her way to him, "Kadan…" she checks the label, then "Put it back behind the stage and label it 48." She watches the man do so, then slip back out and shakes her head, wondering if he dislikes crowds. She moves her way back to Chaton, "There is a very nice set of runner tack… but it wouldn't do me much good without a runner ot put it on…"

Zsadis walks with a long, confident stride into the caverns, his bold little blue flit peeking and preening from his place in a discreet pocket Zsadis had had sewn into his light shirt. Even as he walks with all the alpha-maleness of a Weyrleader, he coos and croons praise and idolic phrases to his hatchling 'lizard. There is an absolute bromance going on here, and it screams of ego. "Oh yes, my Zeal, we'll see if there's anything here for you, yes we will," and then they nuzzle, nose to muzzle. I kid you not. As the lovers near the auction station, they hear Ysa's voice ordering things about, and both look up. The little blue's forked tongue tastes the air warily and Zsadis runs a hand through his hair, moving his body into the fluid, loose posture best meant for seducing. She may be busy now, but who can ever be too busy for /him?/ He grins and makes his way toward her, trying his best to capture her attention. Seeing his intent, the blue flutters his tiny wings and makes a quick, zippy beeline for the Weyrwoman's shoulder, landing accurately, oddly enough././/

Valkin twists his eyes for a moment away from the stage toward Veski when he answers, thus missing the vexed expression flickering on Veski's face. Even so, the blond haired youth looks about ready to ask another question but stills it with the promise of trying it later. Questions then could wait for later. To Veski's latter remarks, Valkin appears a bit sheepish, "I can't help it! You said weyrfolk were…" the rest is lost to the din of the crowd as the boy obviously whispers it, still, he glances around, unable to keep his eyes from looking thoroughly impressed by everything and everyone.

Aoriya hurries in, clearly very late and attempts to look like she's been there the whole time. "Scuse me, pardon me, coming through." Aoriya mumbles. Her trusty bronze firelizard Kujaku is seated on her shoulder, offering creels of apology as Aoriya jostles through the crowd to find a seat.

Xhaine has been here all along! Mainly he's been snooping through the items for sale, looking for any odd item that would catch his eye. He's rather fond of finding stuff where he has no clue what it is. After all, what's a better waste of time than having something like that and spending hours trying to figure out what it's for?! Imagination is a lovely, lovely thing.

Veski laughs softly under his breath, and simply nods to Valkin again. "I haven't lied to you, either. Weyrfolk…well." There's a soft hmph though, with a smile working across his features ever so slowly. "If you see something that you absolutely /must/ have, let me know. I'll..consider it." Everybody loves presents, right?

The loud banging of a gavel echoes through the chambers, bringing the room to a certain sense of quiet. His preening, haughty voice echoes in the silence, "Our first lot tonight is an entire case of fine Benden wine. It is of particularly good vintage and dates back nearly 50 turns. The bidding will start at 10 marks. Do I hear 10 marks?"

A severe look flickers on Valkin's face as he seems to become a bit more suspicious of anyone close to him, frowning when someone takes a seat two seats behind him. But in the heart of Weyrfolk, the boy is at least smart enough to hold his tongue before he goes back to examining faces and watching interactions with people and their pets. "Everyone has those…" he indicates to the firelizards bounding around people or hitching rides on shoulders or in pockets, "What do they do?" His eyes draw back to Veski, expectant that perhaps he'd get an answer for this too. Still, Veski's offer doesn't fall on deaf ears and he nods, "Can I have her—" he points to Shorynia, with a lifted brow. Presents included people right?

Hallac's blue eyes slide away from the goods to be auctioned at the mention of weyrfolk, and Veski is given a considering head-tilt. Curiosity killed the cat, and that's Hal right now as he meanders towards the seats Veski and Valkin are occupying. "Are you not from the weyr?" Not like the kid knows anyone here aside from his family and a few of the weyr residents he met the other night. "Are you from the big hold then? Or from-" He catches himself with a wince. "Sorry, I ask a lot of questions. Ah. Nevermind me." Down goes his head, complete with a wish of his hair to hide his blush at his impoliteness. A nearby chair is selected and flopped into, relieved when the bidding starts. He notices Valkin's odd questions, but doesn't comment. He's still kind of a young kid, right? Sort of? Hal's too awkward to say anything more besides.

Shorynia looks down at the young lad, and smirks befoer turning to Chaton, "Oh, he's so cute, can we keep him?" Almost certainly *not* what Chaton wants to hear.

Chaton errrs. "But Shory, we already have your brother. Are you sure we need another kidlet running about?" Mercury peeers down. Wachamean what do we do? Isn't it honour enough just to behold my cute *hat*?

"Twelve marks to the lady brown rider, do I hear 13?"

Hallac can't help it - he's a gregarious fellow, and he /likes/ talking to interesting people… and darn if Veski doesn't look like interesting people. "Hey, I'm not one to judge. I enjoy the 'sticks'. Lot less pomp 'n' circumstance." Earlier awkwardness subsiding a bit, the boy dumps his jaw into one hand, elbow leaning onto his knee. "I'd like to get out into the middle of nowhere sometime myself. I hear it's peaceful, that you can hear yourself think out there," he jokes, mouth twisting into a crooked grin. "But anyways. What brings ya to the weyr?"

Valkin looks to have tested the boundaries of what is allowed and what isn't, still, he seems vaguely amused about to says something as lips move, but stilled by the sudden rambling of questions from a man behind him. This leaves the big blue eyed youngster to stare, his nose krinkling at the series of questions. Not a peep from Valkin though, his eyes shifting to watch Veski. And his words are for Veski as he mutters loudly, "They are nosy… just as you said." Eyes flash back to Hallac, holding him in a hard stare that is surprising for a sprout from a 'sheltered' life, as Veski just admitted subtly.

From another part of the crowd an older man with a faded harper's knot waves his hand "Twenty Marks for the Benden!"

"Oh, shardit, th' stuff's worth more'n twenny," snarks a young girl in the back, hands planted firmly on her hips before she flips one high into the air. "I say twenny five. Who's gon' beat me?" She levels a supreme, daring glare around.

Veski smirks briefly at Valkin, and just nods. "See?" He /did/ tell the boy that, after all. Still, he does tilt his head at Hallac, lifting a brow at him ever so slightly. "Business does. After all, there's quite a bit of it going on." He waves a hand slightly at the auction being performed, though thankfully doesn't seem interested in the wine being sold. "Heh..yes, you certainly can hear yourself think… Too much sometimes."

Shorynia watches Veski and Valkin for a moment, one eyebrow cocked, "They're an… odd pair, eh Chaton?"

The harper glares back at the girl, "Thirty Marks!"

Aoriya growls, giving up on the wine as she starts looking for childrens things again. "not worth the twenty, even for my parents." Aoriya growls. "Ah well… ooooooh!" She finds a pair of enormous stuffed toy canines. "ooh, the girls would love these. Anybody know how much they are?" She looks around for someone who can tell her how much the toys are.

Chaton chuckles at Shorynia. "Well, would you like me to go and shrink them?" he teases. He points at the woman holding the toys. "I think she needs you love." he says, and nods. He streches and watches the heated auction between girl and wheezened harper.

Shorynia nods to Chaton, then moves over to Aoriya, "One mark for the pair, brownrider." She smiles a little sheepishly. She simply can't be everywhere at once.

Hallac, for one, looks supremely amused. He has two younger sisters and an older brother, and is hardly put off by the boy's hard look; now, if it had been Veski eyeing him like that, it would'a been another story. "I'm not nosy. I'm making pleasant conversation," he says with matter-of-fact politeness, smile growing brighter before he dims down its wattage. "Yeah, good point. It's what me dad's here for," Hal notes glumly, reminded of why he's stuck here instead of home with his pals again. "Ah, well, better than not being able to hear anything at all." These words crescendo a bit louder as he glares over at the cocky girl in the background, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention.

Valkin returns the nod as if in understanding, plunking his back against his seat and avoiding Hallac's reaction. The last thing he wanted to do was have a weyrfolk pay too much attention to him. Of course, it doesn't take him long to sit up straighter in his chair as someone is loudly asking about toys. Toys definitely aren't out of his league yet! At least not the good ones. Maybe a leather ball could be found in the toys.

"T'irty-one," The woman yells in a growly voice towards the Harper, voice dripping challenge. Several people around her are plugging their ears and complaining, but it's not like she cares - after tonight, she won't have to see ninety percent of them ever again.

"Thirty one and a half!" the harper growls back. Only a harper could truly appreciate such a benden, after all.

Veski tsks softly to himself. "My, my. Fighting over things like rabid dogs.." He doesn't really seem impressed by the battle for the Benden, even if it does seem to bring him a certain amount of amusement. "..And what's wrong with not hearing anything? It would certainly block out the banshees over there." He does watch Valkin though, shaking his head as he perks up at the mention of 'toys'.

The woman finally breaks her angry facade and laughs, head tilting back, smile great big. "S'all yers, Harper! I was jest jerkin' y'r chain. They need all th' money they c'n get!," she says aloud, as if indicating that someone should take her place and raise the stakes a little. As for her, she's taking a seat, much to the relief of her neighbors.

Xhaine is just sitting back and enjoying the show. Sure, he could pitch in, but the price has already gone too high for him to even think about 'competing' for it. When the lady gives in, he laughs out loud. "Sneaky, lady! Sneaky!"

Moyrel comes in with her old but faithful lap harp slung on her back, and gives a wave to those whom she knows as she makes her way over to the serving table.

Aoriya grins at Shorynia. "Sure thing." Aoriya fishes in her pocket for a one marker piece and hands it over to Shorynia. "My girls are twins, they'll love these." She scoops up her purchases and carries them under one arm.

Zsadis sees that Ysa is busy and walks over and carefully gathers Zeal up to the blue's indignant protest. He instead takes a seat, overlooking the auction and its atendees. He pats Zeal affectionately, holding him in the flat palm of one hand. The flit, for his part, sits upright with his tail curled about him, eyes closed and head in the air like he certainly -deserves- to be pampered. Zsadis wrinkles his nose at him affectionately, then smoothes his features, remembering the beauty of such smooth features. The man eyes a glorious green outfit embroidered in white with interest, and considers an offer.

Chaton takes Shory's hand in his and grins. "We need more people like her. How much has the weyr raised, anyway?"

Shorynia hands the mark piece to the cashier with a smile, even as the auctioneer bangs his gavel, "Going once!" a few beats pass, "Going Twice!" a few more beats, "Sold to the harper in the corner for thirtyone and a half marks! Please remember to come forward and pay for your goods. All transport has been arranged free of charge by our own transport riders here at Ista ladies and gentlemen, so don't let size put you off." Another man brings up a second box and the auctioneer examines the tag, "Our next lot is a set of exquisite glassware, handmade of blue and green glass and aging to at least 50 turns. Our bidding starts at 5 marks." Shory perks and raises her hand, "Five!" before turning to Chaton, "I haven't had time to count, maybe 200 marks, maybe more."

Aoriya raises her own hand and roars with the voice of a former wingleader calling to her riders. "Six!" Then in a more normal voice. "I still need an anniversary gift for my folks." She beams.

Moyrel picks her way through the crowd and settles at a table, with a mug of klah in hand.

Hallac guffaws - there's no other word for it. "Yeah, you know, you're right. Too bad deafness can't be temporary, it'd be a neat trick to have." He does smirk when the woman in the back relinquishes to the harper, but his eyes are already on the next item up for bit. Ooh, shiny! Hallac spins in his seat to look for Emhall, his father, but alas, the man isn't to be found. Oh well, he'll bid for himself then. "Eight!" Up goes his hand.

Chaton looks over Shory, and nods. "Hopefully more. I rather like good eating, and I'm sure the riders doubly so." he says, smiling. "Seven!" he counters. "I still need furnishings for my room!" he chuckles.

Aoriya calls out. "Eight!" she glares at Chaton. Start the bidding war folks! Kujaku creels at his owner's excitement. Aoriya grins, stroking the firelizard's head gently.

Xhaine sidles his way to Moyrel's side, favoring his craftmaster with a bright smile. "Fancy meeting you here, Master Moyrel. Did you come for the wine? I'm afraid you missed it already."

Aoriya calls out. "Eight!" she glares at Chaton. Start the bidding war folks! Kujaku creels at his owner's excitement. Aoriya grins, stroking the firelizard's head gently.

Valkin jumps a little as Hallac shouts loudly from behind, causing the youngster to glance over his shoulder at the other. "It's so loud… but not as loud as when —" he stills himself with a tongue that's gnawed on, spotting another fancy dressed person walk by, eyes glittering and following the motion of the prim and proper. He shifts in his seat, "Do you think they'll have people?" His eyes glance toward Veski, questioning lift of eyebrows, as if he means to be sold on stage with the other items.

Chaton blinks at the brownrider, and errs. How many marks do Journeymen make again? Not many… "Eight and a thirty-second." is he trying to be funny, or just mess with Hal?

A certain bronzerider emerges from the lower caverns carrying one last lot. He deposits his load and moves around to the back of the crowd where his eyes fall squarely on Veski. They widen, and he raises his hand and shouts, "Arrest that man! He leads the renegades!"

The hall goes silent, even the auctioneer stops talking… what?

Aoriya eyes the bronzerider, and goes completely silent, stunned. "Well, I may not be Damascin leader anymore, but an order's an order." She eyes the bronzerider, "at your disposal sir." Then she closes in on Veski, cracking her knuckles. "Gonna go quietly renegade man?" Aoriya asks, a demonic glint in her eye.

Shorynia stops mid bid as Chaton interrupts her, then stares at Veski. A renegade? What?

Veski shoots a slight glare at Valkin. "No. They won't." There's a faint sigh though, looking a tad frustrated now, but lifts a hand. "Twelve!" Yes, he might as well bid a bit while he's here. Besides, those things look rather nice and shiny and everything…and then there's yelling. The man tenses, and there's the briefest grab to Valkin's arm. "Run." Then he's up, twitching a glare at Aoriya as she nears him. "I never go quietly.." A nearby glass is grabbed, and chucked at the rider's face before he takes off, bolding across the cavern.

Chaton never was a rider, and doesn't have any experience in the field, but by-gosh he's quick. He turns and sprints, suprizingly fast for a short healer, and is after the man, Mercury chittering agitatedly at his shoulder.

Hallac, for one, is stunned. "Huh?" Intelligent, that's our Hal. Blue eyes follow the bronzerider's finger right to his conversation-mate, and at first, the boy thinks it's all some elaborate joke. "What? You think he's… Naw, not really. Tell 'em, you're from a cothold." The boys eyes scrunch up in a friendly manner… until they land on the knuckle-crunching Aoriya. "Heyya, now. Uhm. Let's not be hasty? I'm sure there's a good… a good…" He stutters to a stop as glass flies and Veski goes running. "Oh shards." At least he remains calm, even if it is like a deer in headlights.

Aoriya takes the glass to the face. Omasuth roars in outrage outside. Aoriya's face is covered in small cuts, as well as the glasses contents. "OW SHARDS YOU LITTLE!" She curses badly enough to make a sailor blush and stumbles into a chair. "I swear when I get my hands on him I'm gonna beat the." More sailor blush inducing curses here. "I'm fine Omasuth! I'm fine! Pissed off but fine!"

Zsadis looks sidelong at the man in question, not quite giving him a direct look. Zeal has been startled out of his reverie by the sudden order and the following tense silence. She watches as the bold woman goes to confront the man, and would snort if it were in the "tense situation decorum and etiquette handbook." Instead, he runs his hand down the little blue's back thoughtfully, looking much like an evil mastermind and his pet. The only discernable expression upon his oh-so-flawless facade is the twitch of any eyebrow at Aoriya's behavior.

Moyrel stands up at the sudden outburst, toppling the chair in her abruptness. "What in blazes is this?" she bursts. "Sharding lowlifes. Are you alright?" This last to Aoriya of course.

Valkin seems to be confused by all the shouts, though it merely takes the tug of his arm and the order snapped at him to get his heart racing. He was surrounded by these awful weyrfolk after all. Frankly, the kid leaps up from the chair and attempts to go charging after Veski when someone who wanted to grab their hands on Veski causes the chairs in front of Valkin to topple. Men tangled up with eachother due to their anxious attempts at being hero merely causes Valkin to find another way out, panicking to the point that he jumps up on the seats and starts to leap over the empty ones like stepping stones, making a leap over the backside of one to get him into a clearing.

Aoriya sighs. "I'm just fine." She growls. "When I get my hands on that sonova I'm going to beat the sharding snot out of his little…" Aoriya growls. "Sorry Master Harper. I used to be leader of Igen's security wing. I thought I could grab him. Let my guard down. I'm used to formal arrests not bar brawls."

Shorynias brood chase after the refugees before she can even ask them to and she's off not far behind, grasping for the lad since he was closer. Maybe he'd get his present after all.

There's a brief look back, and Veski curses when Valkin isn't right on his heels. Unfortunately, with other people chasing after him, the option to stop and grab the younger of the pair just isn't very feasible. So he keeps running, boots thudding on stone as he tears out of the caverns.

Zsadis is startled to find Valkin near his isolated place, and here the other eyebrow comes up. Carefully, slowly, he places Zeal on a chair near him and just subtly, slowly, slides his foot out in Valkin's path.

Chaton 's healer instincts want him to turn to help the injured brownrider, but the adrenaline in his system says otherwise. He rushes on, lithe spead bringing him closer, though he probably wouldn't be able to keep it up much more. Healing doesn't often require running for long distances.

Moyrel rights the toppled chair with a nod to Aoriya and settles back down. She casts glances hither and thither, rather alertly, as if making mental notes. "Ah, the wine," she says finally to Xhaine. "I'm sorry I missed it. You can't say that I've missed out on any excitement, though, eh?"

Valkin feels something grabbing at his shirt and it jerks him enough to cause him to chance a look back… a chance that he shouldn't have taken because Zsadis' foot is suddenly there and the kid literally squawks before he's down in an flare of limbs. Precious seconds are wasted as he tries to gather his senses and find which way is up, eyes finding the cause for his fall, fear and astonishment written on his face. Still he attempts to clamour back up onto his two feet…

Hallac should be offended by all of this hinting that sailors would blush, because he's a sailor, and he's certainly just giving her the stink eye. "Big talk from the one who walked up cracking knuckles and promising murder with your eyes. Some guard." The words are said sadly through a pout, though, rather than a snarling mouth, the boy visibly upset by something - the fact that he was taken in by the stranger's kindness, perhaps. Slippery as a fish, Hal worms past Aoriya, writhing through the crowd until he finds the stunned cluster that is his family. "Take this and go." Into his sister's little hands he dumps the heavier contents of his pouch, and then he's off at a dead sprint, following the sight of firelizards overhead to guide him back towards the chase.

Xhaine jerks to his feet, looking perhaps a bit eager. Renegades? Here? he always wanted to see renegades! …from a safe distance, of course, he's not -stupid-. Also light on his feet, he tears off after Veski as well, sparing a regretful thought for his skateboard he left in his room. With that, he could catch up with that renegade no sweat!

Aoriya eyes Hallac. "I retired, stepped down from wingleader." She stands, running in the same direction he has. She's pulling pieces of glass off of her face. "Omasuth FIND HIM. Leave him alone but tell me where he is!" She growls.

Chaton grins! So the airhead was useful after all! He pounces at Valkin while he has the chance to try and pin the man down.

Veski is..gone? Indeed, slippery man that he is, he's very quick to find some way out of sight. It's a mystery!

Zsadis looks down at the kid - for he /is/ nothing more than a kid - and has mercy. Why beat this mere child into a pulp? Instead, Zsadis pushes the gangly kid back down the best he can, avoiding the flailing limbs that are attempting to gain an upright balance, along with Chaton's own attempts to pin the child down.. As he does so, he makes a hefty attempt to sit on him; which, mind you, wouldn't work on any man or boy his own age, but should be more than enough weight for the thirteen-year-old renegade. Zeal looks on with amusement.

Aoriya growls, ticked off as she misses any chance of getting the renegade. Omasuth is snarling mad outside in the bowl, "Alright fine." She growls, heading back towards Moyrel. "rrrrr, Omasuth wants me to stay here and not chase him because of my face. It doesn't look serious does it? I think I still have glass in some of the cuts."

Chaton follows Veski to the point where he disapears, and slows down to a jog. "Hey, man…" he calls out, looking around. Damn, man was good! He walks around, peering into shadows and such, looking… searching.

Hal glances over his shoulder on the way back past Aoriya, opens his mouth, and seems to change his mind on what he was about to say. "I'm sorry. Just… you know." Shoulder fall, but the boy keeps moving, threading through the toppled objects and people alike. Some sense of injustice surges up in the Seacrafter, seeing the little kid being ganged up on in a manner of speaking, but he charges past blue eyes looking everywhere for Veski and- and not finding him…? What? "Where'd he go?" Chaton is eyed, but there was nowhere the mindhealer could be stashing a whole human being, so Hallac takes to peeking too, trying his hardest to ignore the other goings-on.

It's as if the kid realizes when he's been beaten, because as the weight of hands descend (or maybe that was boots?) to keep him down, Valkin stays down and covers his head with his arms as if expecting the people to hit him. Why wouldn't they? The stories of Weyrfolk are horrid after all. But he chances a look at those holding him down, grunting as Zsadis sits on him! "Don't kill me!" he finally yelps in the process, which is ironic all things considered.

Moyrel says Aoriya, "You have some cuts and bruises but you'll be okay I think." Pause. "So, where is he then? I take it /someone/ has him somewhere? Just when I thought things were starting to wind down here, too."

Zsadis gives the child a snort. "Kill you? Shards child, why would we kill you?" Zsa's blue Zeal comes to satiate his curiosity, and peers into Valkin's face within a very personal distance. Zsadis himself has a wry smile on hs lips and pats the boy's head. Then, there's the stern, paternal glare, "What on Pern were you doing with that man, anyway?"

Xhaine returns, having lost the renegade. "Huh! He got away!" he sounds indignant, but looks relieved. He's heard horror stories about fighting renegades, and it's never a pretty sight no matter who wins a one-on-one.

Shorynia steps forward, D'ion at her side, towering over the child, "We wouldn't do anything like that. You're what, 12?" She extends her hand to the boy, "I'm going to have to put you in the cells until Ysa can sort this all out. Now get up or the bronzer'll pull you up."

Up at the stage the haughty auctioneer is looking thoroughly abused. There was no way he'd be able to finish the auction now. He bangs his gavel but to no avail. Finally, he cries out to any who can hear him, "The auction will resume once this has all been sorted out… so probably tomorrow." The poor aucitoneer. The only thing that had actually sold was a single case of benden wine.

Chaton sighs, and turns back around, walking back into the Living Caverns. He scoops up his bag that he had tossed behind to make him lighter, and approaches the Brownrider. "Comeon. Lets get you cleaned up."

Aoriya growls angrily. "someone get the numbweed. Is there a healer in the house?" She demands, calling out. "I coulda sworn I saw somebody with healer knots somewhere in here." She glares. Then Chaton comes forwards. "Thanks. I need it."

Zsadis stands up and steps away from the boy and those surrounding him, scooping the blue flit up as he does so. He actually makes an attempt at a reassuring smile at Valkin, regaining his seat and placing Zeal back in his lap. Ah, so he wouldn't be buying that lovely outfit tonight. Too bad.

Incredulously, Valkin stares at Zsadis, still with one arm systematically trying to keep his head covered as if someone was going to thrash him at any moment. Yet, his eyes seem to suggest that there wasn't anger or spite for being held like this, just an air of caution and a whirling fear. "Be.. because… Weyrfolk d… do…." *huff* "just let me go.. I got to get back or else I'll be.. be…" he flinches at the wry smile and flails an arm at the patting on the head, pursing his lips together with annoyance showing now with those brows of his pitched forward. "I do what I'm told…" he announces with a quick snap to Zsadis' last, until another voice looms down at him and he's peering up with Zsadis sitting on him. The hand is considered, but as if it were a snake. Still, when Zsadis gets up and leaves him be, Valkin frantically gets to his feet, eyes already weighing his options - how fast would he have to be to get passed the bronzer and duck through the woman's arms and make it to the door?

Hallac eyes Chaton again as the mindhealer ventures back into the main part of the caverns, but isn't so quick to join them - not until Shorynia offers to give the kid a hand up. Head shaking, the Seacrafter ambles the little ways back towards the throng, eyes firmly locked on Valkin, following his gaze towards the door. The teen edges right into the boy's line of sight and twitches his head from side to side once, twice. "Sorry, kid. They won't treat you bad, but it'd be better if ya didn't try." He sounds truly regretful. Interesting. The auctioneer is only spared a quick look before he refocuses his attention on the renegade youngster.

Chaton looks around, and sighs. "We can do this here, or in the infirmary, your choice." he says to the brownrider.

Shorynia grins at the boy's obvious attempt to spot an escape, "You're pretty well surrounded, lad. If you help us, I'm sure we can help you. If you fight us… well, I guess that'd be up to the Weyrleaders.

Aoriya nods. "Yeah, infirmary might be good. Lets skip the crowds. Oh Omasuth BUTTON it. You're just a sore loser because the guy got away." The brown has been growling, snarling and generally bellyaching out in the bowl. But Aoriya's scolding silences him instantly. "Oma, meet me outside the infirmary. Don't feel bad that he got away, he's a leader you really think a retired wingleader can catch him?" aoriya demands of the brown. She gets up, her purchases under one arm. "Lead the way." Blood is dripping down her face, dripping into her eyes slightly. "Damnit. I'd dab at the blood but I think there's still glass in the wounds."

Chaton takes some gause out and hands it to her. "Dab, but gently."

Well, Valkin is out numbered, and by people who have a longer stride than him. "I don't belong here — " he says with a stout and firm voice, eyeing one person and the next, "I don't belong here…" he repeats incase anyone missed it. "I'm not yours to keep. Haven't you Weyrfolk got enough people to keep?! I didn't do anything wrong." He backs up a step, eyes considering the possibilities, fleeting glances from one side to the other. With nose wrinkling up on one side as he curls his upper lip at them, his features give a nearly comical frown to those blocking his way, "Why would I help you? You all wanted to get Veski — " there, he confirmed the man was indeed there, the infamous murderer. Though, other than his words, the lad isn't doing much more than standing there.

Shorynia nods to D'ion, who takes the boy firmly by the hands, "All of that's for Ysa to explain. Let's get you set up with a nice, fresh, lice-free pillow, lad."

Zsadis yawns and stretches in exaggerated movements. He comments to Zeal, "Well, that could have been more exciting." Or at least, featuring himself a bit more. Zeal chitters back, then arches his neck and flicks his chin upwards as though to say there wasn't enough fuss over *him.* But its not over, apparently. Won't the kid just surrender? No, so Zsadis stands again, Zeal in one hand. He is still near the boy, and places a light hand on Valkin's shoulder even as Shorynia takes his hands. In a soft tone, Zsadis says, "No one will hurt you. Our Weyrwoman's a remarkable woman and will love to have a long talk with you, I'm sure, but she won't hurt you. Our Weyrleader's also respectable," even to me, he seems to say with his sudden posturing, "And he wouldn't lay a hand on you either unless given a very, very good reason." He does his best to be reassuring, but he is certainly out of practice. "The Weyr's not a bad place, if you'd stick around long enough to see."

Valkin jerks his arms as D'ion steps up to grab him, his eyes wide at the dragonrider, "Whose Ysa?" The lad is quick enough to question; always with the questions! Still, he moves with only the encouragement of the bronzer whose ensnared him, "I don't have lice!" he starts, at the implication perhaps. Then another hand on his shoulder, eyes jumping back on Zsadis, listening. "He told me about you being liars…" He sighs and seems to become resigned to his fate, unable to manage an escape now with people actually holding him. Still there's a fleeting glance toward the exit where Veski ran off.

Shorynia smiles, "Ysa's our esteeemed Weyrwoman." She waves D'ion on and the bronzer nods, dragging the boy off if he's allowed. Shory then turns and speaks with much more authority than she actually has, "I think everyone needs some rest." She points to a few who were injured in the conflict, "You, you, find your way to the infirmary please. The rest of you please clear the room. We'll have a lot of cleaning to do before this can continue." She surveys the wreckage of the chairs and tables and sighs. Too much cleaning to do.

Lume has been…watching. There's a low chirr from the firelizard though, winging its way down. It circles, blue hide faintly gleaming. He alights himself right onto Valkin's arm and shoulder though, clinging there with a tail going right around the boy's bicep. Carry on!

Hallac backs away now that things seem to have died down, a resigned look of his own in his blue eyes. A solid hand settles on his shoulder, and Hal glances up into the face of his stalwart father, wrinkled and cragged with ages spent on the sea. "Let it go, son," Emhall advises, eyes fixated briefly on Valkin before he turns his son's shoulders and angles him back towards their family. "They'll take good care of him." Hallac snorts. "Yeah, like they took great care of Sig?" A rumble from the man. "There's worse things than a couple nights in the slammer." Hallac doesn't seem entirely appeased, and when he passes the dismissing Shorynia, he gives a little nod. "If you need help cleaning up, let me know." Nevermind that his dad's trying to steer him away - the boy's developing a mind of his own.

D'ion doesn't have to do much dragging at this point, just a bit of shoving now and then when Valkin forgets himself and gawks at something strange - like a firelizard that's abruptly landed on his shoulder. Now this seems to cause much interest with the lad as he is turned down the maze of hallways toward the 'slammer.'

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