Logs:Commissioning Satiet's Turnday Gift
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| RL Date: 19 May, 2008 |
| Who: Caitlyn, N'thei |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 6, Month 6, Turn 16 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Satiet/Mentions |
| Ever like a shotgun blast, ever the /boom/ against desert darkness. « Where's Caitlyn? » (Wyaeth to Kintryth) Wyaeth senses that Kintryth blinks up at the blast, watching it rip through his omnipresent mists - then be seamlessly absorbed - as if nothing really happened. His self-effacing rains pitter-patter over the dust and dirst. « She's trying to relax. » Image of his rider in her red bikini, flopped out on their ledge upon a huge towel. Wyaeth> Kintryth senses that Wyaeth suffers the answer with gritty patience, talon-tapping irritation while he waits for a response to the actual question, not the trying-to-relax part. « We're comin'. » And at least they were cordial enough to offer warning first. Wyaeth disappears into Between. Black... Blacker... Blackest! Wyaeth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! You fly to the southern sky. You land on Kintryth's ledge. Cait and Kint's Mineral Manor Weyr(#9372RAJs$) This grand space might comfortably house a large bronze within its impressive expanse, but seems to be home for a much smaller beast instead. The outer ledge of this weyr is broad and deep, capable of holding multiple dragons in comfort. Somewhat farther inside and down a short tunnel is the semi-circle of a simple dragon couch, lined with a wool-plumped 'bed' for comfort, and scented by the omnipresent, soft musk of its resident, along with hints of vanilla and cinnamon. Deeper within the tunnel, beyond the pair of gaily decorated, curtain-like hangings - one thick, one diaphanous - the vault-ceilinged main room is occupied by the many things its human owner has accrued over the Turns. Various small rocks and boulders, from 10 pounds up to 50+ line the whitewashed walls in stately arrangements, the largest settled carefully upon the floor, while the smaller ones occupy broad, wooden shelves bored into the rock. Each chunk of rock is eye-catching in its own way, and all are different - each being a representative of its own mineral or gemstone species - from aaragonite to zeolite, and many in between. Nearly every available wall space is lined with shallow to moderately-deep wooden shelving - home to many scrolls, rolled hides, knicknacks, and smaller mineral and gemstone specimens. Everything has a proper place and arrangement, but nothing is boring or static, given the artistic flair of whoever decorated this weyr. The lone wall which has only a few, small shelves upon it is home to the back of a rather large bed, covered by dark blue sheets and cased pillows, and a pair of thick and thin deep green blankets. At the foot of the bed is a large, lockable press; to the right of the bed is a small nightstand peppered with various toiletries, and near the center of the room, a pile of oversized, overstuffed cushion pillows litter the floor - their colors a merry riot of rainbow hues. Various thick rugs of differing sizes, in deep colors of royal blue, mossy green, and dusky grey, are placed strategically across the stony ground. A few lengths from the floor cushions is a small dining table, half of which is scattered with different reading materials, and what appears to be partially completed jewelry projects. Opposite the table on the other wall,is a raised chunk of granite which holds a large pitcher, ceramic basin, and various cleaning implements, along with a clean stack of platters, cups, and utensils. Also set into the same wall is the grey-colored, curtained-off opening into another chamber, and - farthest from the living area - the dark-blue, heavily curtained opening to what is likely a shallow, small toiletry space. All-in-all, the effect of the main room is one of a careful balance between organized clutter and relaxing spaces - a union of opposites, much as its owner is. Glorious sunset floods the weyr with orange-tinged sunlight, creating a spectacular play of light and color within. Cunningly placed minerals shoot glints and gleams all around, and a few faceted glass ornaments scatter the sunlight into multi-hued prismatic sprays upon walls, ceiling, floor. Wyaeth senses that Kintryth sighs softly, those mists swirling, eddying in random patterns. « Yes...obviously you are. » As modest and mild as always. A sudden shift in his returning rains, their scent that of klah and whiskey. « If she hollers, it's all your fault. » Caitlyn has just enough time to blink muzzily, and stagger inside to grab at her sarong - then stand by her curled-up blue's head as Wyaeth land on their huge ledge. The woman...does NOT look amused. There's no other conversation from Wyaeth, just a mental shrug in response to the notion of Caitlyn hollering; he's realllll concerned. Dragon and rider must already have been tacked and airborne with as little time as it takes them to appear in Ista's skies, a bit a loop while they look for a blue dragon and a red bikini for landing indicator. "I need something." N'thei says it before he's even hopped all the way to the ground, before Wyaeth's /thumped/ hard on Kintryth's ledge, the kind of landing that would make most people grind their teeth at the bump of it. And there's no more chatter from the usually loquacious blue, who seems content to stay curled up - watching this unusual sight with whirling azure eyes. Once N'thei's big form is settled upon the stone, Cait stares up into his face. "Hello to you, to. Thanks for the pre-warning and the charming arrival." Grumble. "It'd better not be what you usually drop in on women for." Hard to say if N'thei's amused with her flippancy or annoyed, that half-smile really only giving away that there's /some/ reaction, not what it is. "No. For that I just show up unannounced around midnight." Istan heat, to hell with riding jackets, torn off and tossed toward Wyaeth heedlessly, but not before a little blue velvet pouch is extricated from the pocket. "You put clothes on." Abruptly realized, duly disappointed. Caitlyn rubs a little at her eyes, as if trying to make certain the man is really there. He could be just a dream, or heat exhaustion. Nope, still there. "I'll rememember that." Grumble. "Wha?! You woke me up from a nap I just managed to eike out in my damned shedual, and you want me to *go* somewhere with you?" Fists settle upon hips, and she glares up at N'thei for a long moment. More grumbling. "This'd better be shardin' well worth it..." Stomp-tromp back off into the depths of her large weyr Cait goes, and it takes her a good number of minutes to suit up into something more riding-friendly. Make him WAIT, she will, goddammit. "Where the shell are we going?!" is barked outside. "No, I don't." N'thei does wait until Caitlyn's already inside and presumably getting more miffed by the second before he deigns to clarify the misunderstanding. "I meant-- what a shame, you put clothes on. I was hoping for the bikini. Still napping, neh? --Are you decent?" Because he's coming in whether she is or not, tossing the little bag on his palm and marking out his steps with the heavy tread of boots against stone; at least, he gives her fair warning of his approach. A soft exclamation from deep within, and Cait's then swearing some, jerking boots back off her feet, leather pants off her legs. "WhatEVER..." she growls out, right now uncaring of N'thei's entrance - more interested in getting free of her hot flying gear. "I *was...* And there, *just* for you, weyrleader." Back in her bikini she is, panting after wrestling off the tacky leather - kicking her riding gear to the side so she can sit on one of her chairs. Appropriately appreciative, N'thei answers the arrival of the bikini with the flash of a one of his better smiles, so much gratitude. "Gracious of you, darling, now if only it were more than just something to look at." Here falls a little sigh, then he's taking stock of the surroundings, Caitlyn's interior decorating, bouncing the bag again. "But business first, neh?" She sits there - arms crossing over her chest - staring darkly at him. "Damned right it is." A sudden, slightly cold quirk of one side of her mouth into a small smirk. "Well, if you'd totally lose the shitty 'user' attitude, and dump whoever your heart is stuck on...well, who knows? You're not so bad looking, yourself." She then blows all of that off by looking pointedly at that blue bag. "Aye, business." "Sorry. Can't help you, love and all. Though I've carried on a largely faithful affair that's recently come to an end if you're ever in the market for something entanglement-free." N'thei says it like it's one great offer, right up to the deflated smile that at least acknowledges how sparse it really is. Out of the blue bag: one pigeon's blood ruby pendant, droplet shape, just shy of an inch long, not too gawdy, held out on his two fingers toward Caitlyn. "Needs a chain, something specific." Is that a hint of empathy in her eyes? Hard to tell, since Cait's shaking her head and sighing - dropping her hard attitude. "Sorry, already have an entanglement-free affair going on..." the woman mutters blithely, then holding out her hand to accept that drop-shaped ruby. A soft, low whistle of deep appreciation - the bluerider's eyes moving over it almost covetously while her fingers turn the bauble about this way and that - holding it up to the bright sunset shining inside. "For your lady love?" she murmurs softly, with maybe a bit of a sigh. No skin off his nose; "Pity. Just a one-off? Worth it, so long as you don't bruise easy." N'thei's attention is already fixed on the light through the gem, rapt as Caitlyn is even while half-heartedly propositioning her. "Satiet's turnday. Little bauble she can ignore along with all the others. Make the chain I want for it, and the one it came with is yours." The draws on the bag are pulled, and it hangs weighted from his fingers. "Fair?" Caitlyn sigs softly again, letting the ruby show its brilliant, carmine insides to both of its admirers. "No, N'thei. Your heart is taken, and I *do* demand kindness and sincerity of my lovers. Your mind'll always be with her..." Blink. The admission causes the Istan to look cautiously up into those grey eyes, though she doesn't seem surprised. A look out towards the ledge, then back in, and the woman murmurs very delicately, "Why do you give your heart to such a cold, cruel woman?" A small clearing of her throat, then, "I'll have to see the original chain, please." N'thei scrapes his thumbnail across his lower lip, a minute shake of his head to contradict Caitlyn's initial assumption though he's silent on the subject. Cold, cruel; "See why I need a warm, pleasant-tempered lover?" He holds the bag out to be retrieved, a weighty thing inside it. The chain it came with is gawdy, but there are a few good small stones set in silver, and six little pearls at the intersection where the pendant should hang. Caitlyn accepts the little blue pouch, setting aside the ruby with delicate fingers then opening it to reveal the splendor of the remaining necklace within. "Jaayys..." the woman murmurs raptly, examining the whole piece in detail, then puffing her lips out in a soft exhale. "Yes, it's...more than adequate." A small twitch of guilt makes her add, "I'll take the jewels themselves, and use the silver leftover to make you a new piece. But that depends on exactly what you want." Wide brown eyes flick up to N'thei's again, touch with something like pity - but not quite. "You already *have* so many lovers you don't know what to do with. Like that tall brunette who sadly fell asleep on you the other night at the 'Hulk." Shrug. "I'm not a woman who puts up with being a conquest." "Do I." Have so many lovers. N'thei raises his eyebrows at that thought, shrugs at her offer of another piece. "It's all bought and paid for already, beautiful, and I'm not a wearer of trinkets myself. --I want little links, but pronounced ones. A single chain, something like a guard chain in miniature. Yay thick?" He holds his fingers about an eighth of an inch apart from each other. "You can do this?" Ignorant of guilt, of not-quite-pity, he looks back down at Caitlyn for the question of her metal mettle. Hah! "Alright... a linked chain, delicate yet bold enough to be seen..." Cait murmurs, grabbing a piece of hide and a pointed carbon stick, noting down the qualities N'thei wants - her fingers rapidly sketching out a rough sketh of the necklace. "How long do you want the necklace to be?" Fingers touch first to her own clavicle, then go lower by one-inch increments until they touch cleavage. A little blush there, but it's well-hidden beneath her tan. "And remember, the ruby will add one inch when it dangles." She seems to hesitate for a moment at his query, then straightens her back. "Yes, I can. It'll take some time, of course. I'll need to forge everything at the Hall - my own little shop is too modest to make the fire I need." She chooses that time to answer his first question, shrugging strong shoulders. "You make it *appear* as if you do. How would I know?" Helpful; "Don't do things like that, you're just asking for trouble." N'thei stands well away from Caitlyn, but the droop of his index finger through the air is a lascivious outline a lot lower than her own finger. "Doesn't matter, never be worn, so put it wherever looks pretty. Put a bit of a rush on it, I'll pay more." He shrugs back at her last remark there; how would she know? How would he know? Who cares. Caitlyn drops her eyes a moment, then takes up a more brisk business-type attitude. "Allright. No need to pay more, what you gave me pays for the rush work, too. *And* the makeup in my Wingleader's salary when I take off the solid sevenday to slave over it. Unless there's Threadfall, of course. And the usual meetings I have to attend." No room for bargaining with those. "Fine then. I'll just bring the length to a standard eighteen inches. Oh!" A speculative look to the man. "Do you want the links highly polished - gleaming? Or of a more natural finish?" Beat. "Whether is gets worn or not, a woman *still* notices these things. You know it won't bear the Smithhall's seal, right? I was *near* taking my Journeyman's exams...but Kintryth decided to pounce on me." N'thei looks around the /weyr/, not the hall, and answers blandly, "If I wanted the Smith's seal, I'd be talking to a Smith, not a bluerider." The whole polished or unpolished matter is way beyond what he was prepared to answer, and all the response he has is a furrow in his brows, a confused crease in his forehead, another shrug. "Bothers you?" A half-step, he dips his head to look down where Caitlyn'd dropped her eyes there. "If you don't want the job, I'll piss off. But there is no more threadfall." Firmly. "So I'd rather give my work rider-to-rider where I can." Caitlyn bobs her head crisply, her fingers settling the rest of the necklace to her table - in plain view. "Yes, I guess it does, in a way. I'm a *crafter*. I sweat all the details to make the very best work I can for myself and my clients. "Yes, I want it...the JOB," she quickly corrects herself, trying not to color. "You'll get my very best work, I promise." An arch of a brow. "Until it stays away for good, I can't afford to believe that. And I won't leave Ista without one of its Wingleaders *if* it decides to put in an unwanted appearance." A small smile touches her lips. "Thank you for thinking of me for the work. My silence is golden." "I meant. Bothers you that it won't get worn? Bothers you who it's for? Something bothers you." N'thei drops a look to the ruby, gray eyes narrowed and cold while he listens to Caitlyn's dutiful theories on the end of thread, wordless in response. "Thank you for taking the job. In among your busy schedule, I'm sure it's a favor and a privilege for me." Caitlyn quirks her head, looking back up into those cold grey eyes as they rake over the red pinkish-purplish red ruby. A small shake of her head. "I'm a crafter when it comes to my works. If it gets worn or not is of little consequence to me. The recipient is of no consequnce, except to the person who's purchasing my skills in the first place." She seems rather surprised at the bronzer's rather polite words, her smile daring to edge out a little again. "*If* you find yourself looking for more jewelry, I have various gemstones I've cut already. And I can always do more metal work, given enough time." Something in her tone speaks of a certain anticipation - even delight - at the thought of being back to her old work. "Sooo, what's wrong?" With his teeth cutting across his lip momentarily, with his eyebrows climbing once more in question, N'thei sure seems hung up on what's-wrong for being so heartless a bastard. Then; "If I'm ever in the market for things that sparkle again, love, I'll keep you in mind. When I haven't emptied my wallet, neh?" Quick wink, maybe a little satisfied behind it for Caitlyn's blatant delight, and he's straightened like he could be shoved out whenever she's rid of him. Caitlyn looks...confused. "What do you mean, 'what's wrong?' Nothing, as far as I know," Cait murmurs over her shoulder - the woman already riffling through the contents across the heaped-up portion of her table - fingers finally drawing a small wooden box out of the organized chaos. Back into the blue drawstring pouch goes the main necklace - strings pulled tight - and then a scrap of soft hide is wrapped around the ruby...both settled within the lidded box. A sudden thought, and the woman turns slowly to give another little smile back to the grey-eyed giant. "Would you like some white wine to informally seal the deal? I find myself in a very expansive mood, suddenly." Grin. N'thei's compassion, concern only goes so far. Anything that involves an explanation is too far. Never-mind implies the one shouldered shrug, the passage of his hand in a short wave. He watches where the ruby goes with passive interest, then fastens an appropriately sly smile into place at the wine offering. "Seen my lack of temperance and you're offering a drink? Or just plying me with alcohol?" Either way, that's not an offer he's liable to refuse-- girl, bikini, drink, it's like a fantasy. N'thei nudges one of the pillows with his foot, stands with a dubious look down at the article, still wearing that self-same expression when Caitlyn returns with wine. "Apparently." Echoed non-committally. "Jubilant. Because a little work dropped in your lap? Move the the Reaches and I'll keep you supplied with tasks till I'm you're new hero." A momentary break, a thoughtful lapse-- "You and A'son, Istan example? He's doing fine here?" "Or you can put the a pillow ON a chair..." the woman offers drolely, handing N'thei a tall glass of wine wherever he winds up putting himself. "My craft was my life before Kint...and it still is a large part of it, actually. It's not traitorous to say I'd much rather be making jewelry, cutting stones, diggin for them than running a Wing." As she pours her own more sparing glass, Caitlyn comments, "Example of what? Yeah, I think he's doing well enough, despite the bouts of grouchiness and worrying about Thread." N'thei stands, thanks all the same, while he swirls the wine about in the glass with slow familiarity. "Something to fall back on for the Interval, neh?" The whole well-enough issue gets a little more real thought behind it, gets the edge of the glass tapped against his lower lip without a sip just yet. "Example of everyone else's warming up to him. People like A'son, didn't figure it would take too long, but it's good to see the proof. And I didn't mean to drunkenly intrude the other night, bad form on my part." /Almost/ apology. "Whether it was an Interval or not, if I have the time, I'd be doing *something* associated with my former craft," Caitlyn murmurs, shaking her head ruefully at N'thei's refusal to sit anywhere. The bluerider settles her own form down amongst those puffy, opulent pillows - smiling to herself as she takes a long sip of wine. "Yeah, I guess so. He *is* a decent guy. Maybe a little screwed up in a few ways, but who *isn't*." Snort. A wave of her hand. "Not a problem. We were just having some down time from all the stuff going on at the Weyr. I figured he needed to get away for a bit." A certain thoughtful cast to her eyes. "Still. Bad form. Someone crashed my private party like that?" N'thei brings out his menace-face, the one with the partially narrowed eyes, and he crouches near where Caitlyn's elected to recline. To his credit, he does this without taking the opportunity to look down her bikini top in the process. "You look very comfortable, drink this one too." He sets his untouched glass on the floor at the edge of all those pillows. "What ways? Is he screwed up." Caitlyn smirks richly. "Well, I was inclined to cut you some slack, considering you're a buddy of A'son's. And you weren't being terribly obnoxious. If you'd've been interrupting something more...uhm...formal, well then, you'd have likely receive my own daggers." A slightly surprised expression as N'thei turns down the wine. "Something wrong with it?" A quick sniff and cautious taste of her own stuff. "I *feel* pretty comfortable, for a change. S'nice." A pause, a long look over at the crouched 'Reachian. "I can't really say. It's personal." N'thei answers about the wine with a scanty, serious-free wink; "It's not whiskey." He rocks back on his heels, weight off his toes, hands on his knees, and squints at the whole matter of something being 'personal,' a new frown. "Really. Won't tease you about it then. I'll work on being obnoxious next time. Nothing says sexy like a woman with a knife and a murderous gleam in her eyes." The hands on his knees help push him upright again. Caitlyn inclines her head. "Gotcha. Well, maybe I'll someday take up bringing up a decanter of whiskey to my weyr for you Reaches folks. Not that I get tha many visitors, anyway." Smirk. "Smart man," she adds with obvious humor. "Nono, no more obnoxious than usual, please. I really *don't* care for fights, though that might run counter to what you've seen." A sudden cough on her next swallow of wine, the bluerider sputtering and laughing crassly at the bronzer's observance. "Oiy! The last man that said something like that to me almost got my foot planted in his belly!" A snark, then some deeper breathing. "He *did* get his jaw messed up later on, though." Wink. N'thei repeats slowly, carefully, "Don't care for fights... but you nearly kicked a man in the gut and threatened to break my jaw before we even shook hands." Mmmhmn, he does the math in the derisively doubtful look that crosses his face. "Thanks again, love, for the necklace." Apparently, 'good bye' is not in his vocabulary, nor any other straightforward farewell. "Honest..." Cait intones evenly, not a hint of humor or lightness in her expression. "I just get...wrapped up in anger, sometimes." A small shake of her head, and the woman gives N'thei a small smile. "You're welcome. I'll have Kintryth bespeak Wyaeth when it's very close to done...within this sevenday." As promised. "Take care, weyrleader." Her own farewell is much less formal than usual, too. Seems someone's relaxed. |
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