Logs:A Conversation in the Rain
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| RL Date: 4 May, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Kaelige, Sigrid, Yarovai |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Strangers meet and share a conversation in the rain. Their sense of civic responsibility varies. |
| Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: It's been raining steadily all day with occasional spates of honest downpour, sheets of water just pouring out of the sky. |
| Mentions: Jemizen/Mentions |
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>---< Lake Shore, Fort Weyr >------------------------------------------------< The Lake's Shore is a broad crescent of golden-hued sand, stretching from the southwest wall near the feeding grounds and around to the southeast where the sand gives way to soil and leaf detritus from a cluster of hardy mountain trees. Where the lake deepens, clear blue water darkens to murky teal, hiding stony depths. Dragons often sun here and riders use the lake for dragonwashing in the warmer seasons, while all of the Weyr's denizens may enjoy walks and picnics among the large, smooth boulders that interrupt the smooth flow of sand. Many of the Weyr's children also play at skipping stones with the wide variety of rocks available along the water's edge. The severe storm that ended not a seven past has left the shore of the lake still dotted with weather-brought branches, leaves and detritus (occasionally of the more interesting kind - like a shoe or wayward shirt). The steady rain of today has been unwelcome for the damper it puts on the willingness of volunteer hands to clear things away, and yet welcome to some for the gentility of the rain and the relative warmth. It's not unpleasant, if one doesn't mind the wet. Dee doesn't seem to, though her khaki pants (rolled to the knee) and plain brown shirt are soaked quite thoroughly as she works her way along the beach with a sack to collect bits and branches and the like. It's repetitive work, but perhaps not boring for one who's hazel eyes lift with interest again and again to take in the sights of Fort that are so new to her. Perhaps it's a good thing it isn't getting later in the evening, as someone garbed in more dingy more-grey-than-black clothing from head to toe with his face shrouded by the hood may not be a thing one wants to meet in the shadows. Kaelige is out in the rain, though he doesn't seem to have the motivation to be out here that Dee does. He's soaked, but he doesn't seem to notice. Silently the tall yet still growing young man approaches the working girl only to stop a couple yards away. There's a long silence. One in which it seems he's just going to stand there. Watching her. Finally, "Get caught in the worst of it?" At least Dee's not the only weyr denizen that seems to be /enjoying/ the rain. Face upturned, palms supine, Sigrid emerges from the kitchens with a grateful sigh. Not really caring where she's headed so long as it's away from there, her feet carry her towards the lake shore. As she moves, she begins humming a tune, and it immediately becomes obvious why she isn't a harper: it's terrible. Really, truly terrible, and she doesn't even seem to notice. Pity. At least it stops when she spies the pair of figures on the beach, some sense of Stranger Danger kicking in as bright blue eyes flick over Kaelige's dark, hooded figure. Squint. "Hey there." It's cautious, but she still tries to smile, gaze darting between the two. "Beach cleaning in this weather? That's dedication," she says with a smile towards Dee, a gesture which turns a tad suspicious when she eyeballs Kael and his lack of cleaning gear. Hm! If there's danger to be aware of, Dee is plainly not as she pauses her beach clean-up to address the two that have approached, in the rain on this still warm late afternoon. A smile spreads across her lips as she turns to address the hooded figure, her words briefly punctuated by an amused wrinkle of her nose, "Hard to say," is the answer, "Seems like there's the worst, had and done, and then just when you think you're safe, splash, the clouds go an open up again." Her face and voice are expressive, to the point of silliness. Hazel gaze flicks to Sigrid, "And fresh off the dragon. They make no joke of volunteering to help get things back in order here, I'll tell you that much." Then brightly, to both, in what might easily be taken as an awkwardly overly friendly manner, the young woman offers, "I'm Dee. From Southern Weyr," leaving the appropriate pause to invite introductions. There's a grin there- a smirk, really- flashed beneath the drawn hood as Sigrid arrives near them with in such pleasure of the rain. Kaelige straightens enough that blue-green eyes might be more easily visible to those paying enough attention, and an idle motion is made to tug on his sleeves. A habit perhaps, or ensuring their coverage. "They'll use you as they find necessary." An odd method of phrasing, but his voice isn't in the least subtle about his amusement. "But that is better." And one hand lifts to point a finger at the sky, insinuating the turbulence and winds that caused so much distress, "Even if it continues to make more work. At least there are the dedicated ones." He notes, returning his hand to its hidden position, agreeing with Sigrid's comment from before. Dee's introduction gets a dip of chin as a greeting, but none so much as his name in return. "What made you want to come here? Not enough work to do where you're from?" Is asked of both of them. Sigrid seems to relax in response to Dee's openness - if the other girl isn't bothered by Kaelige's presense, she isn't either. Much. Maybe. She still gives him a suspicious once-over when he straightens and tugs at his sleeves, but her lips lift in a crooked smile of her own before glancing over at Dee. "Shells, I hear you there. They're serious about the work, too," she says, pressing her hands to her lower back and pushing to stretch it out. "I was barely here three minutes before they had me in the kitchens. That was a couple days ago, though. Snuck in just after the storm." If Dee's awkward, Sigrid doesn't seem to notice. "I'm Sigrid, of Telgar Weyr. Nice to meet you. And, hardly," is added towards Kaelige with a snort. "There's kitchens work everywhere. Just better opportunities here. I intend to work at Sanctuary, if they'll have me," she clarifies with a vaguely wistful backwards glance towards the weyr. If Yarovai has a reason for being out here along the lake's shore, it's not readily apparent to, well, him, for one. He seems a little confused as he comes up toward the water, pushing a hand back through his hair so his hand eventually ends up holding onto the back of his neck. He turns to glance back the way he'd come, then up at the sky. Perhaps he's gotten himself turned around in the rain. The voices only seem to belatedly draw his attention toward others and he lifts his hand away from his neck to wave at them like he totally knows each of them personally. "Will they?" Dee's eyes widen slightly and her brows rise as though she's taking Kaelige's opinion quite to heart. Perhaps Dee's judgment isn't one Sigrid wants to be trusting. Then again, Sigrid's own story doesn't seem to lessen her growing concern. It wrinkles the Southerner's brow briefly before she squints into the shadows that hood creates for a moment, likely trying to make out more of the man's features before looking to Sigrid. "Telgar Weyr?" Her curiosity is evident as she asks, "What's the Sanctuary?" Even being new, Sigrid is still wiser than Dee in this way (and likely others). To Kaelige, her answer is brief but not guarded, "Oh, they asked for volunteers to come help clean up. My brother wanted to come." Her tone implies something about her brother, the general sense being that she therefore came too. It must be movement through the rain that draws the brunette's eyes to Yarovai and she raises a hand, calling, "Hey!" in a friendly enough way to seem to confirm the other's demeanor as truth. "Opportunities that may not have you?" Kaelige rephrases Sigrid's words into a question, his studious stare at her awkward, perhaps uncomfortable at best. "You didn't sneak in very well if they caught you so fast." His sarcasm is heavy, and the smirk remains evident, but there is also something serious about the way he says it. Dee's response to his dry statements draw his attention back to watch her . He grunts quietly as if that's the appropriate reply to her answer. Another face at the lake side draws him back a step, putting his back more towards the water to encompass Yarovai's approach. But there's no wave or bright welcoming. Maybe the slightest tilt of his head counts, but it's short lived and not followed by anything verbal. Sigrid shrugs, meeting Kaelige's gaze for a moment. "That's the risk, isn't it? I'm no worse off at any rate, and I'm out of Telgar." That last bit is said, but not expanded upon immediately, at least. Besides, there's other conversation to seize upon. "And... well, I guess I said that poorly. What I meant was, I got here without getting caught in the storm, not that I snuck into the weyr itself. I'm not that crafty." She offers Dee a smile though, not minding the questions at all. "Yeah. North and east of here. It's... well, not all that interesting really," she says with a scrunched nose and a shrug. "And Sanctuary's the little food place tucked up high in the weyr. Up past the room with bright colored glass in the ceiling. It specializes in serving baked goods," she says with an oddly fierce glimmer in her eyes. Hoboy. When Yarovai approaches, Sigrid waves back, a force of habit more than recognition. "Hello," she adds for her part, since Dee's greeting is upbeat enough for them all. The waving and friendly greetings from the majority are as good as an invitation for Yarovai to come closer to the trio with a big grin on his face. "It's raining," he lets them know in case anyone has missed this very important fact. "It's drier inside." Out of the rain, presumably. "I'm Yarovai." Best to get that out of the way as quickly as possible, evidently. He might forget otherwise. The Southerner's nod for the location of the Sanctuary and what it's all about is distracted for she's looking at the hooded man again. "You're sort of odd," Dee observes of Kaelige, to Kaelige, with more curiosity than judgment. The words 'did you know?' could easily be tacked onto the statement, but aren't. "Does everyone grunt here like that?" She wonders, asking both-- now all three of those more familiar with Fort than she. "I've read about Telgar and its plants in books but I've never been," she tells Sigrid. "Did you like it there?" is asked as if there's a chance that the other girl had and simply left to come here for some other reason and that it not being interesting might not have already answered the question. "It's warm rain, though," one brunette observes to the one who's just joined them with a smile that doesn't pass judgment on him either, "Even if it's cold here," on a day that really isn't that cold. "I'm Dee. This is Sigrid, and-- I don't know, still." She gives Kaelige a pointed look now (that's judgment; where is his name?). Kaelige didn't seem to need the correction from Sigrid, but he takes it with an awkward one-shouldered shrug and the same intent he's had since he's been here. What that intent /is/ exactly, is entirely up for guess. "No important people left behind?" He follows on her assessment of the lack interesting things. Sigrid's particular excitement isn't missed and, as he settles into simply listening, he draws his arms up to fold them loosely. Dee's observation brings a sort of lightness to his smirk. "Mm, I guess." Is his response, though more of his features show now that the rain has thoroughly soakend his hood and the messy mat of his black hair can just barely be seen attempting to escape out from under it. "I don't know, you'll have to meet 'everyone' to find out." He answers in regards to the grunt, but seems increasingly amused, just shy perhaps of chuckling. "Unless there's a hole in the roof, then it's not so much more dry." Kael gives to Yarovai when he's close enough to have made his comments. Dee's judgements appear to go unheard, or perhaps ignored for a beat or two, until he offers a brief, "I'm Kaelige." towards Yarovai with a sidelong glance at Dee right after. Sigrid squints between Kaelige and Dee for that blithe observance, a little smile playing around the corners of her mouth, as though suppressing amusement until Kael reacts. When his smirk continues, she allows herself a tiny grin before shaking her head. "Not everyone, but yeah, I guess everyone's different. I'm sure some people are more, ah, eloquent than others," she says, clearly joking in response to a certain someone's near-chuckling. "It was alright," is said to Dee of Telgar. "Very north. Pretty cold, pretty mountainous. Nothing special, just another weyr with a whole lot of dragons." Helpful, isn't she? "And no. Not really," Sigrid adds perhaps too quickly towards Kaelige. "Noone that matters anyways." Then blue-green eyes twinkle over at Yarovai for his input about the rain, gaze lifting to rake the sky before glancing back his way. "You sure?," she asks teasingly, even though her hair is well on its way to being matted to her hair. Attractive. "It's not bad, though. Warm," she says with an agreeing nod towards Dee. "It could be worse," is added, tempting the fates towards another downpour, the jerk. "Dee. Sigrid," repeats Yarovai. This might help him remember. He'd probably do the same for Kaelige's name except that he seems confused by the concept of a hole in the roof of the caverns and even glances back in the direction of said caverns with narrowed eyes. He never gets back around to saying his name, either, because Sigrid's question makes him hold out a hand, watching it get wet before nodding and offering, "Yup. But I like it." Dee's smile brightens with approval for Kaelige offering his name. Evidently the rest of his response and even his counter to Yarovai's observation are all fine, appropriate responses in the Southerner's book (or at least not disapproval-worthy). She has nods for what Sigrid says of Telgar, an interest kindling in her eyes that is not diminished by the rain that continues to fall on them. "Colder than here?" she wonders of Telgar, though it might be Faranth's own blessing that she manages to keep her curiosity tamed to that one question. She's distracted by Yarovai's movement of his hand. She tilts her head just slightly to one side to watch him another moment as if he might be some sort of curiosity before looking back to the others. "So are you all going to help me clean the beach?" It's asked brightly, sunnily, and with just touch of underlying expectation. This is no innocent inquiry, but one with intention. Kaelige is keen on the quick answer by Sigrid, though besides watching her for another beat, doesn't push her for details. There's other things to pick at for now, and time to pester later. "Could be." He considers of Sigrid's words on the grain, and then corrects, "It was. Perhaps will be." He doesn't seem to be talking about the intermittent downpours, but he leaves it at that. Kael is obviously amused by Yarovai's reaction, "You like standing and talking in the rain? Is this a hobby of yours?" Then, to Dee, there is a very plain and simple "Nope." His blue-green gaze long-since revealed from its personal shadow sweeps around the debris around them. It's certainly more than a one-(wo)man team's worth of effort but even given that fact, he seems resolved to just stand there and look pretty. Or weird, whichever. Sigrid seems thankful that Kaelige doesn't pry, shoulders relaxing a fraction when the subject of people left at Telgar is dropped. The weather, though - she could go on about that for ages. "True, it was worse, if the beach is anything to judge by," she says, aiming a squint for that abandoned shirt a way's over in particular. "Sort of makes this nice by comparison, doesn't it?" Twinkle. As for Dee... "Shells yeah, if you think this is cold, Telgar's definitely colder" Sigrid says towards the girl, eyeing her curiously. Apparently she never really reckoned on just how warm the south was. "We get the worst snows in winter. It'd drift gold-high in the bowl when the winds blew just right. Made things... interesting," she admits with a crooked grin. The expression only widens when Yarovai repeats her name, nodding towards the man and his entended hand. "I like it too." Bright eyes glance up at Kaelige, amused by his question aimed at Yarovai. "Apparently it's a collective hobby, now," she points out, finger twirling around at the four of them, standing there in the rain, chatting like it was nothing. As for helping with beach cleaning oh well, look at the time! "I gotta get dried off before dinner service," Sigrid admits with a wince. "Which... I should probably actually be doing now... But if they put you back on cleaning duty tomorrow, I'll definitely help out between prep times," she adds because, well, she's just a tad guilty about bailing even though she's already edging back towards the weyr. "Sorry. Well, it was nice meeting you all. Er, bye!" And off she scarpers before anyone can try to get her to stay. "I'll help if you need it," says Yarovai to Dee. Simple answer for a simple man, and he seems happy to offer his services. As for hobbies, he answers Kaelige with, "I fix things." Because this is the appropriate response to sarcasm. Especially when it goes completely over one's head. A wave of farewell is offered to Sigrid when she leaves before the dark-haired, well-muscled man turns to Dee for direction. "Has to be collective, to have conversation," Dee adds to Sigrid's sentiment, amusement playing openly across her features, perhaps verging on teasing the other girl, but only just in time for her to exaggeratedly purse her lips as she goes without staying to help, though she gets a cheery, "Bye!" to her back all the same. Yarovai gets a grin of appreciation for his willingness, "Thank you, Yarovai. There's a lot to be done and-" She looks with raised brows toward Kaelige, "It's my turnday." Does this convince him to render his services to the cause? Kaelige gives no excited farewell to Sigrid's departure, though does watch her go for perhaps longer than should be normal. "You fix things?" The boy asks of the other, an energy about his voice that shows he's rather intent on giving Yarovai a hard time, "Floors, fences, and felines alike?" His persistence is interrupted by Dee, who is awarded that smirk of his that is so intended to be charming but falls just short into the eerie category. "You spend your turndays in the mud often?" He scuffs a worn-booted toe into the muddy banks as if to exaggerate his point. "Seems like an odd gift to give yourself." Either he missed the point entirely or he's evading, with his lovely sarcastic humor. The booted foot lifts eventually and sets it down on a broken piece of fencing lodged in the soaked soil, and leans his weight on it, arms crossing over the leg. "I can supervise." He offers. Yarovai might be dumb, but he's not so dumb he won't eventually pick up on the fact that Kaelige might best just be ignored. The handyman will make his way further down the shore in service of Dee's cause, out of comfortable talking distance, really, but he has a good work ethic, even in the rain, and will probably keep at it until someone tells him to stop. "No," Dee answers the hooded man with easy disregard for his disagreeable manner (perhaps he's just not trying hard enough). She does glance toward Yarovai's back as he goes, her expression briefly troubled before she's looking back to the smirker. "My turnday is usually the only day I don't spend in the mud. But this turn is apparently an exception to the rule." She makes a gesture to herself, to the mud that is probably meant to communicate that he can see the evidence of that himself. Rather than immediately pursue what gift he could give her for her turnday that involves the sticks of debris on the shore (if not specific ideas of where he could stick them), Dee cants her head slightly, "Are you always a bit of a heel to nice people who don't deserve it?" Yarovai seemed nice and undeserving and so must he be deemed, apparently! Kaelige lets his smirk drift, but he's unable to lose it completely. He straightens, removing the weight he'd put on the piece of wood. Shortly, he lifts his arms if only to raise them as if innocent of all charges. "I can't imagine what you're talking about. I was making conversation." If only he could actually sound serious when saying so. At least he doesn't chuckle. He does, however, lean down to pick up the stick he'd been standing on to ultimately be as much of an annoyance as possible, and casually tosses it towards the collected pile away from shore. It doesn't quite make it, but it's closer than it was. That counts right? "Surely inquiring on someone's interests is making pleasant conversation." There's a beat as he takes a few strides from where he'd been so motionlessly stationed throughout the majority of the meeting, "You should take a break anyway. It'll be time to eat soon." He says, as if suddenly quite concerned of her well-being. Dee's brows dip deep in consideration that lacks real confusion, likely weighing words against action. She's silent as she looks at him, and then with an exhale of breath that's more audible than the rest. "Sorry," as if she had been mistaken. "I guess I just don't know what to expect from Fortians. I only know of the transfers," the ones that are two of the goldriders at Southern Weyr. Hazel gaze casts toward the clouds, one hand rising to shield her eyes from the worst fo the rain a moment, considering. "Hard to tell the time when Rukbat's hidden," she relates ruefully, before flashing Kaelige a smile. "Thanks," for his concern; the gratitude seems mild but sincere. "I'll head in soon," she resolves before moving to continue her task. It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it! Even on her turnday, that turns out to be Dee. Always studying, absorbing, as if permanently scrawling everything he learns from others deep into his memory, he watches Dee as she talks. Kaelige's emotions are muddled, hard to read. He never seems anything less than light-hearted, but perhaps darkly so. "Don't use me as an example." He offers cryptically, "I just got here not a few months ago." It must have been intentional that he left that bit out when it was the topic of conversation. "You do that." A hand reaches up to pull his dusky hood down over his head to mask his features once more. The steady rain pours off his peak in a little indentation, like a waterfall before his face and little drips from the spikey hair beneath. He turns from her, headed not towards the Weyrproper but to the feeding grounds and the stables within. After a few yards of distance, he raises a single hand in a lazy gesture of farewell and calls out just loud enough without looking back, "And happy turnday." |
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