Logs:Claustrophobic
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| RL Date: 27 September, 2014 |
| Who: Ashe, Giorda |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ashe uses the power of confidence to get what she wants. |
| Where: Headwoman's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 12, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
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| Headwoman's Office, High Reaches Weyr This room is too small to really serve as anyone's room but a little too big to be relegated to closet status. Oval in shape, it has a large wooden door that grants or bars access and smooth walls carved with inset shelves that hold tidy rows of scrolls and ledgers. To the right of the door, a table large enough for six to squeeze in at is often occupied by the assistant headwomen during tithe season and a pitcher of water and glasses stand ready to serve in its center at all times. Squarely in the center of the room is the headwoman's desk, a massive affair of well-polished wood and many drawers bearing neat stacks of hides, incoming and outgoing baskets, many paperweights and a glowbasket stand with several small baskets that allow the light level to be adjusted to suit the task at hand. The rear wall of the office, behind the desk bears a vividly hued tapestry depicting a tithing scene with wagons pulled into the Weyr being unloaded. To the left a small hearth shares a flue with the main fireplace in the common room and is capped with a stone mantel that currently holds a collection of small rocks, shells and other knick knacks that presumably belong to the Headwoman. Ashe has had practice at tracking down people and getting on their schedule, so right as snow on a chilly Reachian morning, the starcrafter stands outside the Headwoman's office and raps on it sharply. She's right there on the schedule. Inside the door, there's the sound of low, warm chuckles - a handful of feminine voices. The door swings open a few moments later, a blonde girl in her early twenties peering out at Ashe; behind her, the office might as well be full-to-overflowing, scattered about the desk at which Giorda - visible with her Headwoman's knot - holds court. "We're just running a little late," the woman apologises. "But come on in, we're nearly done." The number of people in Giorda's office startles Ashe. She might be mouthing, 'bigger on the inside?' whilst looking perplexed. But aloud, the slender teenager replies with a self-assured, "Sure, thank you," and steps in, approaching the overcrowded desk as if expecting a place to be made for her. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." Her brown gaze and a half smile dance from the Headwoman to take in each of the women around that table until she comes finally to the blonde who opened the door. One of the women is perched about the desk; another is crushed up against a bookcase. Still, they manage to fit, and there's more-or-less room for Ashe to make her way in, especially once a dark-haired girl, younger than the others, adjusts her position ever so slightly. "Happy to," insists the blonde at the door. "But this clearly isn't going to work. Giorda?" She defers to the Headwoman herself, who hesitates, lips pressed together. "I think we're done. But - Ashe, is it?" She won't mind as the woman try and get out, will she? For a woman who is fairly average in height and build, Ashe holds her ground well, adjusting as needed to let those women who are leaving, leave. "No, I don't mind at all if it means I can have a moment of the Headwoman's time." She can't fully maintain the half smile when a jostle sends her closer to another woman than she might have liked, but there's still a controlled calm visibly present on her features - not a veneer that masks simmering annoyance, but just that steadiness of educated etiquette. It's the blonde at the door, who steps out of the way for the others but remains more-or-less in sight, who most closely watches Ashe and her expression. The corners of her mouth twitch, just slightly; she smooths it away, stepping out of the way of the last assistant. She closes the door, leaving pale, mousey Giorda to steeple her fingers, and glance up at Ashe. "A moment," she allows. "Perhaps even two. What can I help you with?" Ashe relaxes, those shoulders of her dropping a little as the room clears. "A touch claustrophobic," she confides in Giorda. "I've never done well with crowds and when my wedding day was looming ahead of me, I confess I had this nightmare that I might accidentally walk down the aisle wearing not a stitch with all of Pern watching." The apprentice sits and looks at the Headwoman and in the silence of that brief moment, a sudden smile warms her face. "I was wondering if I might be able to rent a private room, rather than stay in the apprentice dormitories." Straight to the point. It's the mention of a 'wedding' that has Giorda straightening, half-perplexed, her gaze falling towards Ashe's shoulder and that knot that is not an apprentice's. Her interest doesn't prevent the flare of a smile, hands dropping, now, to rest flat upon the surface of the desk. "You're married? And an apprentice?" That, however, is not the real issue at hand, and it's that that has her expression turning more speculative. "You've the resources for such a thing? Well, you must. Your clothes..." "No. It unfortunately got canceled." Ashe's incredibly polite tone halts further questions in its absolute finality. There will be no further stories shared along those lines. "And yes," her smile turns brilliant, "I've the resources if it would be allowed." Beyond her claustrophobia, "I keep such odd hours, staying up many nights and sleeping during the day, it'd be nice to have some place quiet during waking hours to rest in. This was never really a concern at the Hall." Presumably due to the fact most apprentices were on such odd hours. Giorda is - plainly - still curious, but she makes all the right noises, anyway: "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. I shan't dig up past wounds, of course." She lifts a finger to tip at her lips, considering the predicament at hand. "I'm sympathetic, of course. I only... how will the other apprentices feel, I wonder? What does your master think, for that matter? We'll need his approval. Perhaps one of the little rooms?" Plainly, the idea that other apprentices might have issues with this never occurred to Ashe. Her stare is blank and she's silent for a stretched silence. "Ah, and that would be the pain point in my request then." Something money cannot solve. Perhaps so self-assured of her master's approval, he doesn't even factor into the dilemma she muses aloud about. "I don't own many things as an apprentice, so the size of the room matters little to me." Wry, the teenager's proper seating relents when she speaks, "And my problem of needing quiet hours when people are awake isn't exactly a statement to endear me to my peers." "No," agrees Giorda, plainly. "It's not." And yet... it's not actually a no, given the way she taps her finger at her mouth again, more thoughtful than authoritative. "There are a handful of rooms that are largely considered too small for journeymen. Remnants of - well, that's what you get, building the way we did. But won't that be claustrophobic for you? Even if it's not crowds, per se." Ashe must notice that it's not an outright no, for the smile on her lips plays a little too eager, too delighted even in its minor reaction. "No, ma'am. It's only when I'm pressed in by too many people that I start to... my heart goes a little faster and I have trouble breathing." The tawny-skinned apprentice's hand falls to her hip, sliding down to her pocket. "As for the price of such a necessary luxury?" Giorda's mouth takes on a more sympathetic line in answer to Ashe's explanation of her anxiety; her whole body seems to soften, eager to please. Nonetheless, she does pause, covering her mouth with her hand as she attempts, slightly flustered, to come up with an appropriate answer. "I--" It's muffled, of course. Finally, and just a little tentatively, she names a price; there's an obvious question-mark at the end of it. The teenager doesn't bat a lash, but her hand at her pocket shifts, falling into her lap to meet her other hand. She counteroffers with an amount sixty percent of Giorda's. "I think that'd be reasonable, on the first of each month and an extra mark for each day it's late." Ashe's hands lift and rest on the edge of the desk. "And if I get promoted to journeyman, we'll revisit the size of my room." There's no question in her voice, but there's a quizzical lilt to her eyebrow. A faint pink flush paints itself upon Giorda's features, her mouth opening ever so slightly. A cannier woman would bargain further, but the headwoman has never been that. Instead, she hesitates for a few long seconds, and then finally nods. "All right," she says. "That's not unreasonable. I'll need written confirmation from your master that he's content with this arrangement. As for dealing with the other apprentices, well. That's up for you." Not having to justify her reasons with her peers alleviates the remnant tension in Ashe's body. "I think I can figure out something to placate them." And if not, does it really matter? "Here's payment for the first three months upfront." A small pouch of marks is set on Giorda's desk. "And a mark or two extra just as my utmost appreciation to you, ma'am. Thank you. I really hope you know how much this means to me." Wide smile, bright eyes, and a hand that reaches out to meet and clasp the Headwoman's for an earnest shake. "I'll have the letter from my master by the end of the day." Giorda unfurls her hand to allow Ashe to take it, though her grip is weak for several seconds before she - what, recovers herself? Before she manages to make it firmer, if only for a moment or two before the handshake ends. "Thank you," she says in answer, firm, as if to make up for her grip. "It's a pleasure doing business with you. I'll have the room aired and a key organised for you." Now, finally, she smiles again; broad, broad to match Ashe's own. Good deal! |
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