Logs:Fast Friends
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| RL Date: 20 July, 2010 |
| Who: Elliem, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla makes a friend out of /another/ teenage boy. She's good at it! |
| Where: Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 4, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
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| 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. It's early evening on what has been a relatively pleasant spring day, and the caverns are bustling as weyrfolk of all ages head to dinner, or their other, varied evening pursuits. Amidst it all, Madilla has found herself a seat near one of the hearths, curled up with a mostly-finished quilt in her lap, a needle in one hand. She seems to be watching people going past more than actually sewing, though, her expression more dreamily thoughtful than intent and focused. And so it is at this point in the dreamy-thoughtfulness of Madilla's current state that the creature that is Elliem happens. First his presence and then his voice, east-coast sure and rich, "Is this seat taken?" As he moves to stand before the hearth, blocking whatever flame might be there so his shadow falls across the woman. The tilt of his chin though motions towards a seat just beside her. But before any answers can be managed, he is already flopping bonelessly into it. It's mostly that shadow cast that draws Madilla's attention from her thoughtfulness and up to the Smith. She smiles, though, sure and friendly, apparently unconcerned by the way he simply makes himself at home. It may be too late, but; "Of course you may - please, do," she tells him, cheerfully, sending her needle moving again through the predominantly green quilt she's working on. "It's gotten chilly, hasn't it? When it was so - comparatively, I suppose - warm, earlier this afternoon." Elliem turns his head, gaze falling away and lost behind his wire-rim glasses. It tracks along to other things, gliding instead of darting. For all intents though, the young man seems to have dismissed her, attention drawn elsewhere. But words slip from him not long after she speaks, "Time of day. I've felt it happen most of my life... temperature changes when the sun goes down." A blink after that remark and his head turns back to look to her, simply staring 'til the sun makes an appearance once more with the flashing smile offered, "Hi. I'm Elliem. I'm new." Best to announce that first off, in case it wasn't already obvious. It doesn't seem to bother Madilla, whether her remarks are responded to, or not: she's turned her gaze back to the quilt, as though his arrival has reminded her of the work she's presumably supposed to be doing. As he speaks, though, she does glance up, meeting his stare with equinimity until the smile; after that, she smiles in return, bright and cheerful. "And I'm Madilla. Welcome to High Reaches, Elliem. You're right, of course - it's all about the time of day. It just makes me look forward to summer more, though. I take it, then, you're no stranger to cold weather." "Cold weather and I are best friends. She visits me for what seems like forever once a turn. Like a holdguest who never leaves. Anticipated, cute and fun to pal around with at the start... but then the months drag on and you pretty much well wish she'd get disappear and never darken your doorstop again," Elliem responds, sliding back into his chair with the bonelessness of youth. He drapes, slumps, sniffs, and exhales. "Nice to meet you, Madilla. Actually, do you have a moment? Because I have a question for you" Again, he soldiers on no matter an answer, "You remember that I mentioned I was new, correct? Do you have any pointers or whatnot for the new-guy-in-the-Weyr? Like who I should me schmoozing up to in order to get better linens? Or the drudge who will give me second helpings from the kitchens first? These essential things." That description of winter makes Madilla laugh merrily, head bobbing rapidly along with it. "That sounds about right," she tells him, earnestly, as she folds over her quilt, adjusting pieces and pins as she goes. Blithely, she continues, "I can probably even spare you a /few/ moments, Elliem-- I know what it's like to be new around here." That doesn't stop her from pausing for a few moments to consider her answer before she says, "All the kitchen staff are friendly - if you're nice to them, chat every so often, they'll treat you well. I've never worried too much about the linens; most of them are decent, I've found, but I suspect being friendly to the laundry staff would help there, too." She laughs, amending, "I suppose that's my general rule of thumb: be nice, and you tend to get what you want. So simple, and yet..." "Oh, I have learned to /always/ be generous to the kitchen staff. Always." This is spoken in a most solumn manner. Elliem even goes so far as to remove his hand from the arm of the chair to press it to the center of his chest, fingers atop his vest in a show of complete seriousness. "Because, well... who doesn't like good food?" His smile flickers and the hand flops back to the armrest of the chair. Head tilts a tad to the side, dark hair sliding between his bespectacled eyes. Her leading end provokes an echo, "And yet..?" "Precisely!" Madilla's smile is a little wilted around the edges, as though she's terribly tired, but it makes her no less enthusiastic in this response, head bobbing again firmly. "Oh-- and yet, a surprising number of people don't seem to have worked this out. Part of me would say it's for the best, because it makes people all the more appreciative when someone /is/ nice to them. It's not much fun to be on the receiving end of not-niceness, though, is it?" She twists a strand of dark hair behind one ear, settling back in her chair. "Most people aren't too bad, though." "It is a sharding good thing that not only am I good looking and charming, but I'm nice as well." Elliem announces this without a flicker to his lashes or a twitch to his lips. Telling it like it is, ma'am. He tries to hold her look for a moment before sliding back into the seat once more upon an exhale, "Or so that is what my mother always told me. I'm special too. I love mothers." Just a tickle, just the slightest of puckish grins tickles at the edges of his lips. Eyes elsewhere, he continues, "And you can bet I'll be nice to the Healer with the shiny green eyes who wields a needle like a guard wields a dirk. I'm just sayin'." He finishes that with another glance her way, and a softening smile. Madilla's dubiously raised eyebrow is dropped as she breaks into a half-bitten back smile at that faintest hint of a grin, her own mirth barely restrained. "They have their uses, mothers," is her response, just barely managing to sound even-toned. "And now you've proved that not only are you good looking, charming, and nice, but you're also not stupid-- being on the good side of the healers, most important of all." Her needle goes-- well, not snicker-snack, but perhaps the sense of it is there, wielded sharply. Elliem finds his backbone once more as he straightens, stretching shoulders and reaching arms out -only to fall back into the chair in the next breath. Plop. "Oh, do go on..." he near to croons, grinning, but not blushing. He doesn't quite add in the wrist-wave for those arms are now back to being settled upon the armrests. "I like you, Madilla. I declare that we not only will be fast friends that will whisper gossip and have great inside jokes that will make people look at us funny, but that I'll steal your heart and leave you pining for me when my hall recalls me back to the lab. It will be a great story though. Harpers will want to write about it." From the looks of it, Madilla is not terribly good at keeping a straight face. She outright chokes at Elliem's declaration, though her eyes are bright (and streaming) enough that even if it does take her a few moments to respond, it's pretty obvious that she's /vastly/ amused. "/Will/ we?" she says, more statement than question, except for the faintest lilt at the very end. "Well, of course. And then I shall weep, inconsolable, into my herbs, and ruin all of them. How could you, Elliem? How /could/ you?" By now, she's grinning. "I'll forgive you in advance for that, though, so that we can be friends in the meantime, if you like." "See. Harpers just eat that stuff up, because they know that people just love to hear those sorts of tales. But never fear. You'll get along, somehow... while I go on to create a great piece of work that will stand the test of time and die dramatically saving orphans. That's how those tales work." Elliem finally looks back to her, eyes lost behind the reflection over his wire-rim glasses. "But until we get to that point in our story. Yes. Friends. Agreed." If it weren't for the twitching of her lips, Madilla's sage nod and, "I suppose I will. I'll have to, won't I? I have so much to live for... I can't just let myself fade away into nothing in your absense," would almost seem genuinely serious. Alas. She seems satisfied with the proclomation of 'friends', though; perhaps she's used to making friends in such a way. Perhaps there's some other reason for it. "What kind of great work will it be? Something exciting? I suppose it will have to be, won't it?" "I'm not sure yet. But it will be big, everyone will know about it, and it'll have my name on it. My name will be tastefully done though, etched into a corner, deeply, so time nor rust will be able to wear it away too quickly." Elliem looks back to her, head tilting once more to the side and almost reminiscent of a puppy-canine. "You don't sound near as broken up as you should be. But I suppose I understand. You don't know me well enough yet. There is more to me than simply a pretty face." Maybe, just maybe he flashes the woman a wink from beyond is spectacles, but that flash could be the light over the glass as well. "This is actually the moment where I make my dramatic departure and leave you wondering about the cute, mysterious boy. But I... I've one more thing to ask you, Needlewielder, Madilla." Blithely, Madilla promises, "I'll work up to it. The broken upness, I mean. Give me time." This as-yet undefined great work earns a nod, somewhat thoughtful, but it's his last statement that gets another set of raised eyebrows, questioning to match her words. "Which is, Elliem the..." She pauses a moment, then decides on, "Elliem the Inventor? And then I shall settle back and get to wondering, I promise." "I like that.. or the idea of it. Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue as well as needlewielder. But it has promise." Momentarily distracted by the mechanics of titles, Elliem blinks back to her, "My question, it is an important one..." Before he continues, his voice drops off to something a little less than a stage whisper, "Which way to the dorms. I was intending to head back that way, and well... became lost and was going to sit a moment to get my barings again. So if you could just point me in the right direction?" Apologetically, in a laughing kind of way, Madilla says, "I'm afraid I don't have the same way with words that you do. I'll see if I can't think of something better, while I'm bereft and alone, after you're gone." His question makes her smile, though it's far too nice a smile to be mocking; she doesn't really seem the type, anyway. Indicating with one hand, she says, in a smilar-level of stage whisper, "Straight down there, and then to the left. Three passageways down. Don't worry: you'll get it all down in no time." "Thank. You." Each word is deserving of a period considering the way Elliem speaks it to her, clearly meaning just that, full and complete thanks and appreciation. With that said, the teen slides to his feet, the slight tinkle of metal muffled in a pocket the only noise of his movement. "I'm in your debt. If you see me sitting alone during mealtime, you are free to take up a seat next to me and I'll happily entertain you, if you ever see fit." His voice finds a more general tone as he adds, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Madilla. And again, thank you." With that said, the young man begins to hike off, all smooth and easy movements. Although there is hesitation, a moment where he might go right instead of left, catches himself, flashes her a broad grin, and then turns right to disappear. Probably to get lost anyway. "I'll do that," says Madilla, in lieu of a 'you're welcome', though one of those is almost certainly implied in her tone, and the bob of her head. She watches Elliem off with an amused expression, grinning delightedly in return as he turns back at her; once he's out of sight, her gaze slides back towards her quilting, which she returns to with a more focused attention. |
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