Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr
Within the labyrinth of interconnected chambers that make up the inner caverns, this large, long cavern serves both as a crossroads and a comfortable place for weyrfolk to sit, talk, and keep a nosy eye out for who's going where. Colorful, seasonal tapestries add warmth to the smooth walls and reduce echoes, while large niches house clusters of chairs, and a waist-high stone shelf along one wall provides a perch for drinks or work for residents on the go. Worn brass hooks often hold jackets or other outerwear with workboots stationed beneath, the transitory nature of the cavern lending itself to being treated as a sort of communal foyer where snowy or muddy gear can be kept outside of living quarters. Smaller, higher niches at regular intervals hold glowbaskets kept fresh during the daytime and allowed to dim somewhat at night.
The largest tunnels lead to the main living cavern, to the bowl and to the Weyr entrance, but it's still easy for the uninitiated to get lost within this maze.
Halfway in, halfway out of the storerooms' entrance, a recently-bathed and still-nice-smelling H'kon is doing the same thing for which he's given many a Weyr resident scowling looks: blocking traffic. It is, hopefully, a most-temporary situation; the brownrider has two chairs, each clenched under an arm, and is in the process of doing all he can to change his angle. Those who've been around a while might have heard the bump and scrape that preceded the jam. Admittedly, a taller man might have had it cleared up by quickly, but that man... is not H'kon.
He is blocking the way. And while that might not actually be too much of a problem because there just aren't that many people flocking to the stores en masse, it is a problem for the small woman behind him who has been waiting quietly to get out while he struggles with angles and chair legs and the lack of distance between his arms and the floor. "Maybe if you stack them?" Vienne suggests, trying to be helpful, though, well, surely he's thought of it already. "Or, I could take one..." She has nothing in her hands, after all.
"They do not stack with any sort of stability. I was worried about manoeuvrability." It's a flat statement, from a man not unaware of the irony of his situation following such thoughts. H'kon takes a moment to give the woman a quick look over, then nods his head. "If you could pull that one toward you," has a hint of resignation in it, and he gives the one a shake. "My angle is wrong." And, yes, his arms are short.
"Like... this?" Vienne reaches out to take ahold of the nearer chair, dragging it toward her and lifting it up, which might not be exactly what he was asking for, but it is awfully close to, oh, her taking the chair from him, if he lets go of it. "Why don't you just give it to me, and once you get through the doorway here, you can find a better way to carry them?" Her teeth pinch her lip, since he seems like, perhaps, he is not the sort of person who enjoys meddling. "Are you going far?"
H'kon gives his head a curt nod, gives Vienne, "Good," and turns to lift his own chair and step through the exit, and into the broader hallway that leads out into the inner caverns. Once out, he puts his own chair down, and turns to face the woman once again. "I'm certain I can take them from here. Arekoth is waiting in the bowl." A vague look over his shoulder, to analyse the crowd conditions further in the caverns.
She hesitates, because wouldn't it really just be easier if she... But no, Vienne sets the chair down as she's told, a robotic, obedient manner in the way she puts the feet squarely on the floor and takes one step back. And then blinks at him expectantly. The caverns might not be overwhelmed with people at this hour, but it's not entirely vacant either. As she stands there, waiting for him to get it all sorted out on his own, waiting to see if he can, she wonders, "Are you new?"
H'kon sidles toward the chair once it's been abandoned, and hooks it under his arm. It works fairly well once he gets his grip tight, and manages to lift the legs off the ground - at an angle, necessitated by the design of those chairs, and of his own body. Why he's got such tall chairs... surely he won't volunteer. He seems ready to go when she asks that next question, and it warrants a widening of his eyes. "Certainly not," sounds as baffled as he looks.
"Oh. Sorry." Does Vienne take a quick glance around like someone might just leap out of the air and help her out here? Yes, maybe she does. "It's just, I'm new. And there are a few recent transfers and... You have chairs. Taking them to your dragon, so, presumably your weyr. Something new people need. Chairs." It might just feel like she's digging this hole a little deeper with every syllable, and so she stops there, her hands coming together in front of her so that her fingers can lace together and do no harm. "If you swing them over your shoulders..." So much for silent! And even her hands break away from their safe area to show what she means, fists beside her shoulders like she's ready to press a dumbell. "It might be easier to keep them up. Though... still... hard in... doorways." Hey, is there light at the bottom of this hole?
H'kon will surely be little help as the woman keeps digging, standing stock-still, watching her with something close to a scowl on his face, and occasionally narrowing his eyes in a light form of incredulity. Finally, "When I try to carry them over my shoulders, the legs bump mine." And, presumably, innocent bystanders, though he does not say as much. "And again, less control." He still hasn't made any move to leave the woman's company, for all that talking of hers. And he's still holding those chairs tight. "I impressed here and have not strayed. My... circumstances have changed, simply." And that is a full-fledged scowl again.
"Oh. Right." Circumstances. She has no idea what that really means, but the gist is enough. "And you wouldn't make up excuses just to be contrary." Vienne flashes him a big, quick smile for all his scowling and as her hands settle together again in front of her stomach, one finger lifts to point in the direction he's supposedly going. "I'm... headed toward the bowl." So, even if he starts walking, they would kind of be walking together anyway.
"High Reaches is and always has been my Weyr," has a hint of fire behind it. When she points, H'kon sidesteps, looks after her finger, and then nods with a simple, "Ah." The chairs are hefted to ensure his grip has not slipped, and he takes a good few steps to the side before he starts off in that direction. A few paces in, there's a shoulder check (complete with the slightest swing of the inside chair) to track her progress.
"Oookay," Vienne is quick to reply to the fire, her palms facing him to slow the boil. "Well, I'm not going to make you leave or anything." So, no need to get hot and bothered. And so she lets him start off and though, unburdened by chairs, she could probably overtake him, she lets her steps stay slow, just in case he changes his mind and she can lend a hand if any of that grip-slipping actually happens. But she doesn't say anything else and when he looks back, she just lifts her brows and gives him a little smile, all innocence.
That bizarre twisting of his face might have been an attempt to return her smile. H'kon looks back to where he's going, stepping around an old auntie as she passes. It's on the second look that, with a hard-done-by look, he makes an attempt at talk. "You then are one of the few transfers who've not come to my wing. Unless you have only transferred today." Something he doubts, the way his one eyebrow lifts upward just a bit.
It's probably good that he faces ahead again, so that he misses the 'well, this is weird' face that Vienne briefly makes. And even though he's put off his path by the auntie, the bluerider doesn't make any move to help, though nor does she leave him to his troubles. "No," she replies, keeping in step with him. "I've been here..." An attempt to count the days proves too troublesome to bother with. "I'm in Snowdrift. You're... in Hailstorm?"
"Ah," H'kon says once more, doing a third shoulder-check for Vienne - too late for that face, of course. "Avalanche," is a curt correction. He walks a while longer, slowing his own pace even more as the crowd starts to thicken, nearer the bowl, the main living cavern. "So then, it is too late to extend any sort of welcome," is almost said as a question. H'kon clearly being the otherwise friendly face the Weyr would choose to head up its welcome wagon.
Slowing his pace means that Vienne ends up a bit more at his side, no more need to look back at her. "Sorry. Avalanche." It's hard to tell what he might take offense to. As for a welcome, her mouth curves again, though this time the smile is a bit more dubious and amused, tugged to one side. "You could try," she supposes dryly. "It might be interesting." For one of them, at least. Not saying which one.
H'kon stops, flat footed all at once. Good job Vienne's less behind him, or it might've been ugly. "Welcome to High Reaches," is as flat as his feet. "I should wonder," only once he's resumed walking once more, hefting the chairs again as he starts up, "where it is you've come from, and why it is you've come here." Is that suspicion? Maybe he's just focusing on not dropping those chairs, or hitting that young couple looking more at each other than where they're going.
Vienne stops short, too, quick enough that she might just be paying close attention to her new friend's body language. Then she receives that welcome as if she's been given a direct order: expression serious, her mouth a small, pinched pout, a decisive nod so that he knows she's heard the message. She is duly welcomed. And then the walking starts again, for both of them. "You should wonder," she agrees with a lightness that seems utterly disjointed from the sober display of just seconds ago. And she does let him wonder for another few steps, as if she has no intention of answering. Only then: "Igen. Not enough snow." Totally straightfaced.
H'kon's eyebrows draw together just a little; but he is patient enough, continuing his walk. And when Vienne finally does answer, he just gives another nod. H'kon is really a simple script, once learned. "Voluntary transfer, then," he assesses, as friendly as his welcome. He has to slow for a large group of weyrbrats, many of whom are covered in something purple. Probably, it was once dessert. H'kon shows only impatience for those children, and sets a livelier pace once they've passed.
"Sure." Voluntary. Close enough. And when the gaggle of dessert-covered children pass by, while H'kon is looking impatient, Vienne is looking a bit wary, drawing away from them by a half-step. Her jacket really is quite nice. And tan. And that purple looks like it would stain. But at least she does also show a touch of concern, reaching out to cover a jutting chair-leg with her hand so that no one knocks a forehead on it. Once they're clear, she takes her hand back quickly and mouths a silent, 'sorry'. She touched his chair. Then they can walk on. "So you've been here all your life?" He said something similar, but not that exactly.
H'kon is not fully satisfied with that answer - but then, maybe that will even the field some, for what snippets he's given to the woman. He kind of grunts. There's no acknowledgement of her apology but for - yup - another nod, though he does heft those chairs again, letting a few fingers loosen, tighten so others can break, all without breaking step. The chairs do wobble a little. "Since impression," he specifies, with no further information offered up. And, as they're beginning to draw nearer the bowl, "Your dragon is in the bowl, then." Another not-question sort of question.
"Did you hatch?" The quips comes out before she can stop herself, but at lease Vienne manages not to laugh afterwards. And she moves on quickly rather than leave that comment hanging in the air for too long. "No, he's on our ledge." Meanwhile, seeing H'kon try to readjust his hold while walking does have her looking like she might just reach out again and help. But she doesn't. Hands to herself, she just continues on beside him.
H'kon almost speaks, but pulls back that comment. In its place, after a quick lick of his lips, is, "I was raised in Tillek." His steps slow again, this time so that he can award Vienne a longer look without fear of maiming lovers or small children. "Will- your dragon be coming for you, or will I leave you within the caverns?"
She gives him a 'now, was that so hard?' kind of smile, pleased and encouraging for the tidbit of personal information that might suggest he isn't some kind of Reaches-lovin' machine. Though that smile fades when H'kon slows and takes that long look at her. Vienne is caught for a moment with her mouth faintly open and her reply hesitates. "Neither?" Blink. Somehow that has to be the wrong answer.
H'kon stretches his face out all funny again. That smile fail. "Well then." Chair heft. "Whatever it is that your evening has in store, I wish you the best." He tries to speed up his pace, but soon enough thinks to look back. "Your name?" is only half a demand, the man's bearded chin lifting slightly at the last word.
That seems like dismissal, and so when H'kon's steps pick up to carry him away, Vienne, still perhaps a little baffled by his almost-smile, starts to let her path veer, still headed in the same general direction, but perhaps another portion of the bowl. Only then he looks back again and if she's surprised that he isn't entirely through with her, it doesn't show. "Vienne. Yours?"
"H'kon." And as crisp as that name is given, he resumes his pace, quite content to leave this woman, his chair jam saviour, behind him without any further words, it would seem. Welcome, indeed.
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