...green sits on a chair and idly chews on the table-cloth's Fort-brown tassle. As he arrives Nomi stops her grumbling and turns towards him: anger fades swiftly into a confused sort of delight. "Th'deus. Welcome. I'm glad you could come." Nomi is, as always, a consummate hostess. Clean. Showered. His hair is still damp from the shower and pulled back in a braid. No bandana this night...

...her face in her jacket, still biting on it as that hand still fumbles with the strap hooks. She's /trying/ to get them loose, but cold fingers, and blinding pain are hindering her attempts. Th'deus arrives, trudging on foot across the bowl, with no less than three hanger-ons talking to him. They are likely his excuse for not taking a less arderous form of travel; Th'deus wasn't going to invite...

...all hope for a short stay. Thick curtains close off the dragon-sized exit to the bowl, as well as the smaller one to the infirmary, and generally keep things windfree and secure. Th'deus pads in from outside, the morning's glare off snow silhouette his form as moving black shadow as he enters. Quietly, he arrives, though the ice that has built up on the man's boots crunches in the...

...Thaddeus. >> I bespoke Ikaroth with: I sense that Xanth touches minds lightly with a sense of moist compost becoming solvent and the muculent aspects developing a mild tenor: < < Th'deus wishes to know if we might visit. >> < < >> I sense that Ikaroth braids sunlight arbitrarily, discarding often while never seeming to decide. < < You can, I know you can. >> < < ...

...all hope for a short stay. Thick curtains close off the dragon-sized exit to the bowl, as well as the smaller one to the infirmary, and generally keep things windfree and secure. Th'deus steps in from the infirmary which is, really, the natural place one would expect to find a wounded rider, with the dragon in the ground weyr. But the answer from a gruff, one-word inquiry does let...

...face in her jacket, still biting on it as that hand still fumbles with the strap hooks. She's /trying/ to get them loose, but cold fingers, and blinding pain are hindering her attempts. Th'deus arrives, trudging on foot across the bowl, with no less than three hanger-ons talking to him. They are likely his excuse for not taking a less arderous form of travel; Th'deus wasn't going to invite...

10/22/2008 Logfile from Thaddeus. Th'deus is heading across the floor of the cavern with strides that don't speak anger. They scream it. The bundle that he'd arrived with is taking the brunt of his anger, pressed between arm and chest. No firelizards in sight, which is typical; Bo leaves whenever Th'deus gets upset, and at this moment, Alyx is not needed for a barometer...

...whatever he said to Lerylk, or maybe it's just cold, but he nods either way. "I think it would be okay if I defrosted before I saw the Master. Don't you?" He looks at Lyna for premission. Th'deus heads through the brutal winds toward the living caverns. A long overcoat flops against his legs, the most audible noise from his passage, as the wind tends to buffer the crunch of his boots over...

...secluded in winter, when the weather has stripped the leaves off of the surrounding greenery and leaves only the frail skeletons of what was, as reminders of a lush time. This, however, is about Th'deus' mood at the moment, and he sits in his usual haunt, mostly covered in his long-coat, studying the pale browns and greys of dead summer's fingers, against the pale of snow. Deepening twilight will...

... ------------------------------------------ There are no more areas of sanctuary. Winter has eliminated most of the outside places Th'deus would go. His dragon won't leave the weyr. His weyr is taken up with babies and cots and a desk with a pile of things that require his attention. He isn't ready to go and clear his stuff out...