Flowers Are Friends, Not Food

Monaco Bay Weyr - Terrace Garden
Neat, even planks form a boardwalk set approximately two feet above the ground. Unfolding to either side of the walk-way flourish the lush tropical gardens of Monaco, either brilliant colors and green well kept with Monaco's near eternal spring. Rare trees mingle amongst interestingly formed as well as common yet attractive trees dot the terraced landscape. Brightly blooming flowers are abundant, their colors ranging from lavender to blue to white and even startingly shades of pink. The large tropical flowers cast their sweet smell over the little alcoves scattered about the garden and heavenly cloying scents waft about. Towards the center of the gardens is a large terrace enclosed with lattice fences, over which blooming vines have been draped. A large dance square and a quiet bar, with a few high tables, have been set up in the gardens as an escape from the hectic rush of the main cavern.


Summer continues to reign supreme in Monaco and the Weyr is bustling with more activity than usual. Sure some of this is thanks to the new resort, however there has been an influx of candidates as well with the arrival of Half Moon's eggs and white knots. Reya should probably be doing some administrative type thing, but…she is not. Instead she is at the garden with a drink in one hand and a line of young weyrbrats trailing behind her. "This here is…a flower of sorts. I'm pretty sure you can't eat it." Where are the nannies? Taking a quick bathroom break! Surely nothing bad will happen by the time they return. "Well, maybe /I/ can eat it." Yeah she's totally just reaching for a flower and plucking off a petal. There's a very exaggerated moment as she opens her moutH WIIIIIIDE and threatens to drop the plant inside. The result? A whole round of "EWWWWW, no no don't!" from the children.

Ityrziel is probably not shrugging off his chores of the day — given the smudges of dirt on his knees and hiding in well-scrubbed hands, he might even have been working here — but he is here. Not working. Also enjoying a beverage! It's bright, and icy, and likely entirely nonalcoholic. ALAS. That's just how it goes. The candidate also has a truly enormous plate of food; nearly a platter, and he looks pretty intent on shoving every last bit of it into his mouth before he's distracted. The hoard of children gets raised eyebrows, but their leader, well. "My, Reya, your children are lovely." The harper-candidate calls, dry, over the mill of the crowd and all the lovely extra life around the Weyr. He sets himself up at a nearby table, pulling himself up onto the chair but turning it to keep an eye on the 'rider, amused. Is he going to ruin her fun by telling her that could be poisonous or otherwise gross? Absolutely not. "It does look like it would taste rather good. At least these aren't two dragonlengths up off of the ground." HUFF.

It's like someone took Brohdan's two top fears and put them together into one nightmarish hellscape! He'd been here for some time, perched somewhere near Ityrziel but minding his own business, trying very, very hard not to bleed all over the shirt he's trying to mend when blue eyes come up and he sees them. "OW." And promptly stabs himself. Again, judging by the bandaged quality of his finger. Lips suck into his mouth, realizing he's said that quite rather out loud, eyes watering as he tries to Built-Ford-Tough his way through the pain and also vanish back into the flora. It isn't going to work. He's wearing hot pink and neon green with yellow braided sandals because the weyr keeps letting him dress himself, and nobody has seen fit to put a stop to it yet. Three, two, one, and: "Does it?" Look like it would taste good, he means, throwing a VERY dubious look from Tyr to Reya to the children and back. "I am with the small, terrifying sense-makers. EWWWWWWW!" Wehat? If you can't disappear into thin air, join them.

"My children?" Reya pauses right before the petal drops into her mouth and her gaze shifts over towards Tyr. The corners of her lips quickly move upwads to form a smirk on her face, "I look pretty good for a woman who's had this many kids, don't I?" this earns another round of gagging and protests from the brats. Poor Brohdan, he certainly /can't /escape from the tiny hoard dressed like that, especially because one little girl is running up to him and tugging at his shift, "I want it!" Want what? It's kind of hard to tell. But he isn't the only one being assaulted. There's a child, perhaps 4 turns old, standing next to Tyr and his plateful of food with mouth wide open now. FEEEEED HIM. Apparently Reya isn't going to bother coraling them - she has a flower petal to taste! And down the hatch it goes!

Tyr has been making a dent in his plate — socialization isn't going to stop a candidate who's had to run within the last six hours. Faranth forbid! He doesn't even notice the giant flashing wall of color and beef that is Brohdan until the poor guy yelps. Squinting, Tyr eyes Brodie, eyes the shirt. Eyes the garden, sighs. "Do you know anything about what's weeds and what isn't?" He asks, sounding very put-upon around that wherry leg he's going to town on. It's an art, alright. The harper is definitely ignoring the baby bird at his feet, eyes scanning back over to Reya then crinkling up with amusement. "Oh, yes. Very good. How do you do it?" He asks, voice rising and falling dramatically. Again, you know, around his wherry leg. Manners? Food's more important. "Ah!" Aaaand, she actually ate the flower. Dismay flashes briefly across Tyr's face, but it's replaced nearly as quickly by…curiosity? "What does it taste like? I can't say I've ever purposefully eaten a flower." Tyr ventures, absently sticking a green vegetable of some sort in the bird-kid's mouth. Look. If you're gonna beg, kid…

What does that small child want? HIS SOUL, judging by the intensity of Brohdan's reaction, not even trying to indulge her as he reels backwards, lifting his feet up onto the bench he's occupied the same as one would for a particularly large cockroach, or a rather persistant rodent. "No, it's mine," whatever it is, "go away!" And if that's not enough? He places one palm upon her forehead and PUSHES HER BACK TO ARM'S LENGTH. Or, you know, he tries, with dubious success, really given his attention has wandered back towards Reya and — "You probably shouldn't actually…" Too late. It's TOO LATE, eyes wide as he waits a beat, two, for her to like. Fall down and croak right before their eyes or something. That's how it happens in all the plays, right? "Weeds? Ah. Yes. For the most part. You… you didn't know you were pulling up parsley this whole time?" Then again, their senior weyrwoman just ate an unknown flower, so perhaps botany lessons aren't one of the weyr's big sells… "They… do make teas out of some flowers… I'm sure it will be fine?" Maybe.

"I'm actually a machine," Reya replies while pursing her lips thoughtfully. She doesn't /seem/ to be dying. "It's…perfumey." The leftover plant is tossed to the side as her gaze settles on the bird-child. The moment a /vegetable/ is in his mouth he's making a face (but at least he's not spitting it out?). It's a much stronger reaction than Reya had. Of course, she's tehcnically an adult. Speaking of strong reactions….Brohdan is prompting a whole lot of them. The tiny girl pushes her forehead against his palm, as if she could overpower this towering man. She can't, but…well, she /does/ have backup. There's now three children assaulting Brohdan and making grabby hands at his shirt. Judging by the grins on their faces, they are amused!

With all of the unaffected interest of a cow chewing its cud and watching clouds go by, Ityrziel half-watches Brodie's shenanigans. Perhaps he's reached critical mass of child-fear, and passed through on the other side. Perhaps it's only the really small ones that disturb Tyr, since he's eyeing them with something close to amsuement as they maul the poor guy. Perhaps he shouldn't be so amused, except — "It was not parsley!" Scandalized, the harper squares up, glaring over at the bright-flashy northerner ferociously. "It was a weed. It was…" Definitely parsley. "Fine. You take over in the garden, and I'll take over there. If you think you can survive this?" He ventures, drily, eyeing the growing mob with amusement, then Reya. "A machine? Hmmm." Eyebrows hitch up, and the candidate shares a single piece of some sort of spicy meat in exchange for good behavior from the little. "…well, I suppose that would make sense. It is a flower. Do you feel any different? Mouth tingling? Headache?" SUBTLE, TYR. REAL SUBTLE.

"This explains so much!" Ah yes, the gears are turning in his mind now! They are… all the wrong gears, but you know. It's fine. Not the brightest crayon in the box, our Brodie. As for Ityrziel, well… There's a rolling shrug of one shoulder as he resumes holding the girl back. "I thought you knew. Maybe the weyr needed very… very tender shoots for their stores." Stranger things have happened! Like this sudden swarm of more children, which Brohdan takes about as well as expected: "NO, kindly remove yourselves from my person! It is my shirt, I saw it first!" Aaaand he's standing, as if that won't instantly make him a child-jungle-gym, replete with brawny arms for swinging and a cushy stomach to springboard off of! "Gack! Get them off me and I'll do whatever you like!" Oh… such promises… that was possibly a mistake. Fear: one. Brohdan: zero.

"Well…I /am/ having trouble bre—" Yeah, Reya can't keep up the straight face at that point. She lets out a laugh and shakes her head, "No I'm fine. Besides, don't they sometimes put flowers on desserts? Not that I understand why but…surely some are edible?" Bsedies, it looks like Brohdan is in /much/ more trouble over there. For her part, the Weyrwoman is taking her drink and leaning against a tree as she watches the shennanigans. "Tyr? You're the one that mutilated our carefully cultivated parsley? For shame!" Not that she actually looks concerned about it. She's also /not/ stepping in to save poor Brohdan, "Sorry, that's not in my programming!" What a terrible excuse. In line with the candidate's worse nightmares, the children are /definitely/ jumping up to latch onto him now. Maybe Tyr will be able to bribe them off? Food always works!

But would Tyr bribe them off of his fellow is the question, really. At least for the moment, the candidate's still just so very busy eating. Couldn't possibly get up. "Of course I didn't know, I was ridding the bed of a pestilence, a…" Carefully planted bed of very difficult to grow parsley. ALAS, parsley. Tyr mollifies himself with a large bite of something that smells spicy enough to take the hairs out of one's nose, chews it without change in expression; that is to say, grim. A very grim grimace, even. "Do they?" The harper blinks out of his moue to stare at Reya, apparently dumbfounded. "Desserts? Flowers? I believe I've been lucky, not coming across them." Huff. "Surely, then. After all, why else would they be planted next to where people eat?" Tyr ventures, deadpan. Deadpan that drifts slowly back into despair, a long sigh and anxiously waving hand. "Look, I, well. I did think they were weeds. I was very thoroughly ridding the bed of the weeds, as well, I should say." He sniffs, nodding once. Like a bad job well done is a…good thing? Right.

Okay, fine! If Tyr is just gonna look at him like that and continue to be totally unhelpful, Brohdan will solve his own problems. But first: "OW, that's my SPLEEN." Or kidney, one. "Aren't you guys hungry?," asked groaningly of the children dangling off his arms as he struggles… his way… towards Ityrziel… with Frankenstein's-moster level slowness, dragging one particularly child-ridden leg along behind him. "Look, food!" Worst. He's the worst. But at least Reya is just as bad. Her proclamation that helping him isn't in her programming earns a narrowing of his eyes, expression mulish but, ultimately, amused as he asks, "And what is in your programming?" HMM?!

"Well I'm not going to lock you up for vandalizing the garden. The chefs on the other hand…." Reya shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly before bringing her drink up for a quick sip. She almost chokes on her drink then because her gaze has settled on the very slow moving Brodie and his child entourage. "Chaos. Chaos is in my programming, and I think this qualifies!" Her head is thrown backward, laughter quickly escaping her lips. In fact she's laughing /too/ hard. Her stomach is starting to hurt! At least /some/ of the children are distracted by food? About half of his posse abandons Brodie for Tyr. They aren't nearly as nice as the first kid though. Nope, they're attempting to climb into the candidate's lap and just steal the food!

Tyr, looking like he's weighing his options as quickly as he can, apparently decides that staying put is his safest bet — his plate is still rather full, after all, and there are a lot of children. Were there that many before? Is it only now that he contemplates that maybe this was a bad idea? "Brodie, I would rather if you…didn't." You know. Drag all of the children over to him. Tyr is every bit as not-bright as the bright beefcake, if he thinks that's gonna stop his fellow candidate. Bless. "No, no, this food is not for you. This is my lunch." The harper points out, eyeing the approaching children a little wide-eyed. "You can have your own lunch, if you would like, and I can make some — rec- now, no! No, I don't think so." He absolutely is rambling, now, shooting a wide-eyed look at Reya. "I'd rather face the chefs, frankly! I'll send a firelizard. Tell them all about my crimes. It's fine." The harper points out, gently attempting to pick children up and set them back down on the ground. Not super successfully. "Chaos, I'd — this certainly does! Reya!" Despair! Woe! "If they eat this, they'll cry for days, some of it is very spicy —" Kids born at Monaco? PFffft. Keep dreamin', Tyr.

Brohdan IS A FREE ELF! Almost. What comes next is a bit of ninja-fu the likes of which is sure to even make his mother proud. "You know," commented to Reya as he limps an arm, noodling it out of the clutches of one child. It's not your imagination Tyr, they are DEFINITELY multiplying. "The more I talk to you, the more sense you make to me. I don't know if I love that or hate it." He slowly lifts one leg out of the circle of another set of arms, careful not to touch the edges of sticky hands, like a particularly difficult Operation extraction. "I'm sorry Tyr, but this is for my own good." Wow, he's not even going to disguise that is he? NOPE. Not with Reya over there, laughing like her picture is underneath the word 'maniacal' in the dictionary. "It was nice knowing you. Let me know the names of your folks, I'll send them my condolences." As for Reya… "I got you this." It's a kid, lifted from his neck to HERS, looped arms draped like a particularly bizarre gold medal as he kicks up his heels and legs it the FRICK OUT OF HERE. The laundry he was mending? He doesn't love these, and like Tyr he'd literally rather take what's coming for him. SEEYA.

"At least it'll teach them a lesson?" Reya supplies oh so helpfully when it comes to the kids and the food. Still…she isn't /that/ bad of a person (maybe). She does at least finally speak up though, "Children, you will literally die if you eat that, so please stop." Valiant effort Reya, valiant effort! They don't believe it, but it does at least cause some pause and then Brodie is extricating himself from the tangle of child limbs…only so that Reya can be saddled with the burden? How unfair! "I am an ENIGMA BRODIE. You don't know ANYTH-arghhh! Ease your grip you tiny monster!" She might be outright wrestling with the child now. "Tyr, didn't you tell me once you wanted to try being a nanny for a day? I think this. UGH. is. your. CHANCE!"

"No! No, no, I don't -" That wordless, despairing sound might just have come directly from Ityrziel's soul, for all the power he puts into it. There's gurgling, there's a high-pitched noise that sounds like a dying animal. Tyr might as well be being long live the king'd off of a cliff. "You — you ass, you wretched mule," Oh, did he just swear? In front of an army of children. Look. Tyr's not exactly the best role model, y'know. The way he impulsively pitches his soup spoon (which there is no soup for, alas) at the other candidate's retreating back is probably a good indicator of that. "True, true," The harper is absolutely willing to concede to something that would probably cause the kids to exit his person, so maybe he's not, well. The nicest of gents. Maybe he wouldn't, really, though. Right? Right??? "I'm not responsible for any of your fingers falling off, if you stick them in that sauce, now. I won't hear it!" Tyr doesn't-quite-wail, batting tiny hands and glaring a little wild-eyed at Reya. "Oh, no, no! How terrible for the nannies would it be to find you, without your charges, ah — they'd, they'd be so worried. You know. You shouldn't worry them like that, now, Reya. Completely unreasonable." Says the guy who's bodily shoving arms and mouths away from his plate, now, looking like he might bolt. Who goes for another man's plate like a canine, kid?!??? "Noooo, don't!"

"What in Faranth's name is HAPPENING?" A shrill voice fills the air from the stairs as one of the nannies arrives to this horrific scene. It causes all of the children to freeze in place (and Reya too). There's a cough from the woman who manages to escape from the child and promptly hide behind Tyr. "I have /no/ idea what happened, they just started swarming him." Yeah, she had absolutely NO part in it whatsoever. "But you know, we have /important duties/ to be doing so…we will leave the children in your very very VERY capable hands." This is Reya promptly retreating. Will Tyr follow? Or perhaps he has his own route of escape? Either way, this is NOT the palce to be!


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