Logs:Everybody's a Lu. Or at least an L.
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2008 |
| Who: Aleudre, Leova, Lujayn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leova meets Lujayn, who is not related to Louvaen, and Aleudre, who has one of the cots next to hers. Lucky her: Aleudre snores. |
| Where: Candidate Barracks, HRW |
| When: Day 16, Month 5, Turn 15 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: L'sen/Mentions, Louvaen/Mentions, Moll/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: There really were a lot of us with L-names in this clutch. |
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| Candidate Barracks, High Reaches Weyr (#430RAIJs$) This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons who will soon live here. For now, cots have temporarily been brought in for the candidates while they bide their time, waiting for the exciting day when the eggs will hatch. Men keep to one side and women to the other. At the foot of each cot lies a small press for storing clothing and other small items. The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl.
Aleudre heads into the barracks, not looking exactly thrilled to be in the space. He has already claimed a cot - and, surprisingly, it is beside one that is moving. He hunkers down for a closer look and peers beneath it at Leova. "Uh, hello. Didn't mean to interrupt. Thought my firelizards were causing a problem." Nope, they weren't - but now they're here in a flutter of wings and demanding trills. Aleudre rolls his eyes and straightens to shoo them onto his cot. "Settle down. I have your food right here." He pulls a small bag from his jacket pocket and goes about tossing meat scraps at the green and brown. Lujayn enters in the midst of post-dinner activity, making her way to a recently made cot. A knapsack rests on its covers, still packed. The recent arrival sits quietly for a moment, taking in the new surroundings, but soon rouses herself for some unpacking. A few hides, clothes, the odd trinket... pausing while folding a set of breeches, she turns to the other two. "Something wrong with your cot?" Lu asks, curious. In the shadows, a hazel eye rolls Aleudre's way, the other invisible behind nose and a tangle of rusty hair. "You've got more than one?" comes the surprised question, though as he disappears Leova gets back to fiddling with the shim a little more. Her reply to Lujayn is more muffled by distance and direction: "Wobbly. Floor's not level. Dunno why." "Got two of the buggers, tried to give them away a handful of times but they seem to stay," Aleudre answers the girl, looking towards the cot with a bemused twitch of his brows. "You can just, uh, change cots you know. Mine's fine." He tosses another scrap of meat towards the green to stop another trill. He looks to Lu with a smile, "Settling in today, too? Seems once those eggs drop, the dragon's go crazy with finding enough fools to go stand." Lujayn turns back to her satchel in an 'aha' moment, pulling out a small stack of bound hide. "Maybe this'll even it out. Don't think I'll be doing much reading up here, anyway." She offers the item with a shrug, eyeing the prostrate girl. "Maybe you can fix the cot, but not the floor. Emilly just brought me in; I went right for dinner." Cracking a grin for Aleudre's predicament, she keeps on with unpacking. "I'm waiting to see if mine will follow me. Clever little nits." Despite the words, her tone is affectionate. "Shells," Leova says flatly, enough so that it might even be a joke. Her cot moves a few more times, there's a little more adjusting, and then it's time for the other corner. "Could. Good spot, though." Just one away from the corner. A hand sticks out from under the cot, palm up, waiting for whatever it is. Aleudre nods to Lujayn, "Ah, yeah. Well, mine were impressed while I was a resident here. They know I'm here." He turns as the cot beside him moves some more and he sets what's left of the meat on the bed before putting the bag to the side. The green converges on the morsels, hissing at the brown who dejectedly turns to snuff in the bag. Aleudre hunkers down once more and peers at Leova. "You want help or somethin'?" Lujayn leans over and tosses the book into Leova's waiting hand, stretching over her own cot in the process. Bag empty and firelizards present, she stretches out to watch the proceedings. "Mine would be at Fort," She continues idly, intrigued by Leova's work. "I was a Runner there. Are you two from around here?" The hand clutches at the book and draws it under the cot... only to spit it right out again. "Can't use that," like it's sacrilege. More normally, "Not help either. Almost done. But thanks." Leova starts wiggling out, taking a dust bunny or two with her. "Tillek." "Ah, Fort! That's where I acquired those two buggers," Aleudre exclaims, finger-wriggling over his shoulder at the pair on the cot. "Random errand with a rider who wanted company. Bad idea, I think, to try at impressing. Thought I wouldn't suit, y'know?" He stands as Leova comes out and grimaces at her dusty self. He rummages in another sack on the bed and hands her a rag. "I'm Aleudre, born in Boll, lived most m'life in Igen. Now I'm here. Was the tailor. Make great dresses, just so you know." He grins over at Lujayn and then down at Leova. "Well, if you change your mind.." Lujayn collects the book and dusts it off, regarding it momentarily before tossing it in with her shirts. "It always sesms to happen like that, doesn't it? Just when you /don't/ want them around." She sympathizes with Aleudre. "My name's Lujayn; Lu's easier if you want." She doesn't say anything about dresses, but grins a little wider. Leova, greeted by a rag, doesn't toss this one back. She does give her cot a shake first, though, and lo and behold, it stays put. Only then does she start applying the rag to her face and, as afterthought, her hair. "Tailor?" She gives Aleudre a closer look, as though she's never seen anyone quite like him before, and then gets back to working on her shoulders. "You look like it. I like the stitching... Name's Leova, Lu. Related to anyone named Louvaen? Trader?" Aleudre seats himself on his cot and goes about removing his boots. "Shells, this is awkward. Stayin' in a room full of bodies. I can only imagine the snorers..," he grumbles, looking out at an already sleeping form with a frown. "I'll toss a boot at them," he continues, talking more to himself - well, maybe it could be taken as conversation directed at the green fire lizard that moves to curl in his lap - than the two girls. "I look like a tailor?" he finally asks, looking to Leova with a lifted brow. "How's that?" And to Lu: "Lu is easier, I'll take that nickname gladly. Some started calling me Al here, but eh.. I prefer my full name." Lujayn shakes her head, rising to sit cross-legged. "Nope. Both of my parents were Fort riders, and I don't think either were traders before." She answers easily. "It would be funny if I really was related to, who, Louvaen?" She chuckles, head tilting thoughtfully. "Is that someone else in the Weyr? I haven't met many people yet." "Someone back at Tillek." Leova looks distant, or maybe she's just examining the level of dust on the rag before she offers it back to Aleudre, a little uncertainly given its now extra dirty state. "Right. It looks like everything... I don't know, fits. Though you know what they say about the tanner's children not having shoes." "No, I haven't heard that one. And 'sides, I'm not craft-trained so I get away with artistic flare, y'know?" Aleudre answers Leova. He waves his hand to ward off the return of the rag. "Keep it, or wash it, I don't care. I'm not a fan of... dirt." He shakes his head looks over at Lujayn. "Is it common then, for children of riders to get Searched?" Lujayn nods along with the assessment of Aleudre, silently agreeing about the 'fit.' What she doesn't agree with is what gets voiced. "Nah, probably not any more common than children of harpers, or anyone else. I don't think it makes much difference to the dragons." She rocks back a little, testing the cot's springs. "How come you couldn't do flare in the craft? The story, maybe it's a Tillek thing," Leova supposes, back to studying the rag before she shrugs and sets it beneath her cot. "The idea is, the tanner's so busy with everyone else, he doesn't make any for his children. You heard it before, Lu? Must be nice, knowing how everything works already," as if Fort were the same right down to the weather. Aleudre chuckles, "I guess you have it there then, Lu. Wasn't in any way implying that one should - or shouldn't - follow in their parents footsteps. Shells, I sure didn't." His shoes have finally come off and he's kicking his feet up and over onto the bed. Lying back, he cushions his head with his arms and squirms to get comfortable. "These cots are horrid," he grunts, reaching a hand out to idly scratch at the brown as he too comes onto the man's chest. "Shoulda refused." He turns his head to look at Leova, "What brought you here from Tillek? Just the search?" "I'm not a rider," Lujayn protests to Leova, looking around as if to appeal to anyone else in the vicinity. "I'm a runner. Growing up in a Weyr doesn't mean I know everything." She looks flattered more than annoyed with the claims, but it's mixed with irritation born from a long, long day. Moving Weyrs and all. "My cot looks safe to sleep on, at least. I'm going to have a go at that." Lu retrieves a nightgown, ducking down to change. Soon she's gone the same way as the Eastern candidate, curled under the blankets. "'Night." Is her last mumble, listening drowsily to the conversation and eventually dozing off. Leova glances down at the question, her amber eyes fixing on the man for a moment before they flick away, to his firelizards. "Search. Right. You know L'sen? He talks a lot. Or Moll? She..." Leova breaks off. "Night." She doesn't look at Lujayn, but she does step away, if only to pick up a few of those extra pillows scattered around. Aleudre closes his eyes and hhmms lightly. "No, don't know them. They haven't come about me at all. Granted, up to this point," he murmurs, shifting on the cot to a more comfortable position. "I avoided work. We'll see how well that goes... once... day starts..." And, like most men his age, he's asleep within moments of closing his eyes. For one that complains about snoring, he must not know he takes part of that bad habit himself. Leova returns with the pillows only to see, and hear, Aleudre drifted off. She looks down at him for a moment or two, then shrugs and drops one of the extra pillows by his cot, dumps the others on top of hers, and abandons the barracks to go get clean. |
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