Logs:Crafters Stick Together
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| RL Date: 28 July, 2014 |
| Who: Miska, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte and Miska are two Nice People. They are also crafters. They are Nice at each other and talk delivery of babies. |
| Where: Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 5, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
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| Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr A passageway hewn into the rock and heavily patched with cement leads a short distance in to the bowl wall, with a door on either side. Lit by regularly spaced glows, the white-washed walls have been covered over by colorful tapestries, wall hangings and pieces of art made from metal and wood. To the left of the entranceway, just a single step inside, a spiral staircase opens out of the wall, leading upwards through the stone. Further down, a doorway opens to either side of the corridor, while at the far end, there is a hewn-stone staircase leading up to the residential quarters, wreathed by two final doors to private quarters and the bathing room. The door leading to the east opens into an expansive room that seems to provide both general working space - with long, bare benches and chairs - and a cozy lounge complete with over-stuffed sofas and a few fuzzy armchairs. Three tall windows are carved into the stone, and offer air and light when the heavy wooden shutters are left open, though the lounge area has to make do mostly with glows. A hearth at the back of the room provides both heat and basic cooking facilities. The white-washed walls are bedecked with decoration - from quilts, to tapestries, to wooden carvings and metal sculptures. The western door leads into another passage, off of which the main workrooms have been built. The loading dock is at the northern end, leading back out into the bowl, with the rest of the rooms leading deeper and deeper into the wall.
Tayte is not a morning person. The evidence is everywhere, from the long, silky sky blue robe tied loosely over what seems to be a matching nightgown underneath, to her bed-time braids that trail in twins over her shoulder, mussed a little from sleeping, to the fact that she's wearing slippers and yawning even at this hour as she passes Miska and approaches the hearth, where there's klah. Once she has it in hand she has to turn to the small table where there's sweetener and milk, but she doesn't move until she's stirred it to cool enough to drink. Complete opposite - Miska is all cheerfulness in the morning, evidenced by his smile, which surfaces as he lifts his gaze to the vintner. "Morning," he starts pleasantly, taking in the robe and braids with the aplomb of a card dealer. "Klah's a little strong today. I think they burned it. No one is admitting to it though." Why she cares, that's a mystery, but the healer is amiably supplying information even without a prompt. The blonde turns at the voice, her ocean gaze focusing on the other blonde over the rim of her mug. She looks tired, from the slight shadows under her eyes, to the way her blinks are a little slow and still sleepy. After Tayte has finished sipping, she does offer a warm smile (so not a grouchy person in the morning at least). "I'm sure I've swallowed worse. Hazard of having to taste apprentice's latest and greatest drink invention. I think I've only refused twice based on ingredients, and there have been some doosies. One had burnt klah, even, if I'm recalling correctly." She moves to settle into the chair beside the healer's, hiding another yawn behind her mug. "You're new, aren't you?" Bartenders are good with faces. "I'm Tayte. Vintner." In case he didn't gather. "I'm sorry to hear that - your tongue must have suffered some." Amusement tinges his fair features, his smile edging wider at his own joke, whether or not she finds it funny. Miska shifts in his seat, angling himself to better see Tayte as she sits down in the chair partnering his. "I'm new to the Weyr," he says with a nod of his head, "Tayte, nice to meet you, I'm Miska." His hand snakes out, reaching over the arm of the over-stuffed, worn-out lump of stuffing and fabric that is the chair he presently sits in. "Posted healer, Journeyman, obstetrics specialty. You won't see me unless you plan to give birth, and even then, it's a toss up - they have me assisting with surgeries too, apparently I'm a crack at stitching." "Never been the same since," Tayte's ready rejoinder and smile that now shows teeth would indicate either her general good humor or that she really does think Miska is funny. The vintner shifts her cup to move a warmed hand to meet his. "Well met, Miska. No current plans, but there's no saying you won't see me someday. My youngest is approaching a turn and a half. No saying you can't come see me in Snowasis before then. I bartend part time, though we pretend I don't have a very fancy Journeyman vintner's knot when I'm 'tending. The boss doesn't like it." There's a warm smile there too, and her voice holds more humor, so she must like her boss, even with his proclivities. Unless you don't drink?" This is inquired with a slight raise to one brow. "You can never count on 'never again' or 'had my last one'. I find that's always the precursor to an unplanned pregnancy, and that's unpleasant. I don't deal in the mind healing department or the unsettling notion of ending pregnancies," Miska says as he pulls his hand back and laces his fingers over his stomach. "Interesting - bartending instead of brewing." He looks genuinely intrigued, though his grin falls lopsided as he says, "I try to stay away from the stuff, in the interest of being healthy. Certainly, a glass a day wouldn't harm anything, but a glass always leads to two, and two leads to three." There's a hand flourish next. "Kind of like children." The first has Tayte going silent behind her mug and she doesn't comment on it once she's swallowed and the smile is back in place, albeit lacking the luster it had before. Instead she argues, "Everyone know alcohol is a perfectly healthy habit if not in excess, and having a drink is an excellent opportunity to exercise self-control and self-discipline." But she's probably been drinking since she was twelve. Ah, the life of a vintner. The last has her smile turning a little teasing. "My specialty is mixology. I tended bar at Ista and now that I'm here... well, I wasn't going to let a little thing like Snowasis being privately owned and operated stop me. I do brew some, though. Mostly specialty items that I don't have a good source for, but mostly I use the good stuff from my fellow journeymen's labors. Work smarter not harder." She lifts her klah mug a little as if in toasting the sentiment. "How are you finding the Weyr so far?" "Had I any self-control and discipline, perhaps, but I would just as well drink a barrel than a glass." Miska gives a self-deprecating sigh, but his smile stays in place. "I've been to Ista - Hold. I never got around to visiting the Weyr, but I've heard the reputation for their drinks." For someone who supposedly doesn't drink, he sure seems well-versed in who makes what. Still, he's got that amusement playing around the corners of his mouth, even as he answers her more serious question. "Crowded, less room, free attitudes. It's different from both Hold and Hall, but I can see why so many like it. Room for growth, figuratively, of course. Can't see how anyone could grow with how little space there is available anywhere. Someone could at least knock out a wall around here." Tayte has a laugh for his last. "Imagine how much more crowded things would be if it were a Pass. The golds laying that many more eggs, that many more candidates and riders. Just wait until Iesaryth has clutched and the candidates are facing the hatching sands. You may get to stitch some interesting injuries, but let's hope not." Because who, other than healers, ever hopes for injuries on hatching day? "If ever you decide to make an exception to your drinking policy, your first round is on me, by way of welcome. We vintners don't have much else to offer in the way of welcome gifts, unless you're in need of a warm winter scarf. Then I might be able to help you. It does get bitterly cold. I do miss Ista so very much when the weather turns." The blonde sighs dramatically before leaning back into the cushions. "Do you like Ista better or here so far? With all our relaxed attitudes." Our. She's a woman of the Weyr to be sure. A low whistle escapes the healer's lip, his head moving back and forth. "I couldn't survive, I fear. I would be the laughingstock of Healer Hall, running back for lack of room to practice." His smile widens again, corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. "I'll try to remember, and it may be soon, if as many more weyrfolk are coming as you say," Miska says with a widening of his eyes this time, mocking solemnity for the mere prospect! "I don't mind the cold, but I do prefer the warmth of Ista. Jungles, beaches, warm air, yes that was preferable." He sinks back into the chair cushions, kicking out his feet in repose. "It's as I said, very different. I'm used to women who want a controllable birth, a birth that is the pivotal moment in their lives. But here, births are a lot more of a nuisance, an even that stops your daily chores for a few hours." There's a nonchalant shrug, green eyes touching on the vintner. "I can't decide which is worse, honestly." "How much room does it really take to deliver a baby?" Tayte wants to know, as if she hadn't had two of her own. "I think the desired birthing experience depends on the woman, even here, though I can't say that many probably think of it just like that. Maybe women of the Weyr are just more used to uncontrollable events, like Thread and mating flights. I can't speak for other women, but I've never had a birth go according to plan." There's amusement for that. Because babies can read plans, right? "Considerably little, but do I want to be rubbing elbows with a healer who is cleaning out an infected wound? Not particularly. It's more about being able to control the situation, if not the actual birth itself. Crowding creates chaos and the last thing a woman in labor needs is chaos." Miska closes the book he has up until now largely ignored, setting it in his lap. "That's a luxury only the wealthy can afford, I know, which is why and how it is so different." Another shrug, an indolent one. "I try to give my patients what they want, and for weyrfolk, that's not much." Tayte drains the last of her klah as he speaks, making a face for the last swallow before her smile returns. "Then we should make easy patients for you, with the exception of a few ornery greenriders." She winks, marking the joke before smoothly rising. "I'd best go to the bathes before there's not time for one before my duties. Let me know if you need anything while you're settling in. We crafters have to stick together in a sea full of crazy riders and their dragons." Her smile is all the wider for saying that aloud before she's heading off back in the direction from whence she came. |
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