Logs:Apples (2)
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| RL Date: 26 April, 2013 |
| Who: Dal, E'ten |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, Fort Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: E'ten runs into orchard worker Dal, and gives him a ride home. |
| When: Day 12, Month 8, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Plum season has basically finished, but it's slightly too soon for pears and apples; the result is a week or two of respite from harvest for the orchard workers of Fort Hold, though there's still plenty of work to be done. Now, however, it's late enough in the day that the orchards are largely quiet but for the whisper of wind through the trees, and the low susurrus of the river beyond. And, too, the wet sound of teeth biting into an over-ripe plum: Dal, sitting up in the branches of one of the apple trees, his long legs hanging loosely low, his gaze lost into the distance. "You do know that we're going to have dinner later." Beat. "Alright, I'll have dinner. You'll stay on the rim." Spoken in mild amusement to no one in particular, E'ten makes his way down the path towards the orchards with both hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as the sunlight is hanging further lower in the skies. It's not immediate, but there's no visible sign of a person overhead as it were. It's the (apparently) one-sided conversation that seems to draw Dal's attention, in the end. It turns him bodily, and with enough momentum that the leaves (and apples) in his tree rustle, audible and visible if a person happens to be paying attention. More obvious still is the apple that drops a moment later, right as Dal's face appears through the leaves. The apple thuds, and Dal, having studied the newcomer for no more than moments? Hastily, in a Fort Hold-accented baritone: "Guess that means they're about ripe. Hold's duties, sir." Rustling from above and not too far ahead causes the bronzerider's steps to slow, tilting his head back until spotting a face with the falling apple noted as an afterthought. "Well, I'd probably say so," comes the quip as E'ten steps forward to pluck the dropped fruit with one hand. "Weyr's duties to the Hold, sir. Taking in the afternoon," he asks, giving the fruit a careful toss with one hand to test its weight - or a casual gesture in and of itself. The repetition of 'sir', or perhaps being the target of it, shifts Dal's expression into something uncomfortable. He grabs hold of a branch just above the one he's sitting on, wrapping his arms around it idly. At least from here he has a fairly unobscured view of the bronzerider. "A person's got to make the most of summer, before it's gone," he confirms. "Besides: it's quieter here than at home. Harvest'll be a good one." He drops his plum seed, now, unwrapping his fingers from about it to let it fall. E'ten appears at ease with the sir'ing as much as one can without an outright correction. Allowing his eyes to glance remain fixed up in the trees with an easy smile. "You won't find any complaints from me. My name's E'ten. Rider to bronze Adiulth." It might subside the use of titles between the two men for now. "There's nothing wrong with being both productive and taking time out to rest." Giving the apple another toss, he regards the branch before offering, "Did you want it?" "Dal," says the holder, by way of reply. "I'd offer to shake hands, but mine is sticky, and besides, I don't think I can reach. Keep it. I figure a bunch of those apples are destined for your storerooms /anyway/; why not have one early? They're better fresh of the tree. Sun-warmed." He's careful, now, in the way he holds his hand: cupped, and distant from his trousers, all the better to avoid wiping sticky plum juice onto himself. "There's pretty much no better spot at Fort Hold to take a rest, in my opinion, unless you want to get closer to the river, maybe. Duty comes first, of course, but there's something fine, very fine, about just /being/." "Well met." Spoken amicably, E'ten takes a step back just in case Dal might be preparing to swing down from above. "And there are a few places that are nearly just as good that overlook the river - if you have the mind to hike towards those vantage points. Maybe some might end up at the Weyr but I'd think a lot more will be found at the Hold," he says and suggests diplomatically. "There are some at the Harper Hall who can bake pies and bubblies... that would make me enjoy transport duty when it takes me there." "I don't mean to make it sound as though I begrudge the Weyr," says Dal, hastily. "It's a fair trade: our produce, your services. We'll certainly keep our fair share, and get our pies and bubblies, and cider and apple butter, all winter long. My ma's not much of a baker, but you're right: some of the staff at Harper Hall do a fine job." If his expression is abruptly wistful, it's harder to see it since he takes that moment to swing his way down, forestalling further conversation for a few seconds at least. Apologetically; "It's getting late. I'll be expected. Kids eat early." "You weren't." Therefore, E'ten doesn't look like he's taking offense to anything as he gestures over one shoulder towards the way he came. "Did you need a quicker lift home? Adiulth and I don't mind the detour. Besides, we've been on sweeps today. We don't mind getting a chance to greet some of the holders when we can." Dal hesitates, just for a moment, his thought processes so very nearly visible in his expression (or maybe that's just the sudden brightness in his gaze). "My son-- he'd probably die of excitement. Thank you." That would be a 'yes', then. And true to his word, there's a /very/ excited three-turn-old at the other end, and some surprised and impressed adults as well. /And/ an offer of dinner-or-at-least-a-cold-drink. But even if he demurs... well, that's one very happy kid, and a father who actually smiles. |
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