Logs:Finding Refuge
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| RL Date: 16 October, 2011 |
| Who: Iolene, Lirienne |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lirienne is readjusting to the Weyr. Iolene convinces her to come to the party. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 13, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Wind and snow make for very bad weather today. The visibility is low, making travel dangerous. |
| Mentions: Rilka/Mentions |
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| It's a cold cold night outside, the wind and snow making it an incredibly ugly day. But the hatching caverns are toasty as ever, and several people, having discovered this, have set up shop in the galleries, among which is Iolene. Having tucked herself on the stairs leading down into the sands, her bare feet propped just off the ground by tipped over boots, Io huddles underneath a shawl over a book. Further out, Ysavaeth has created a depression for herself and every so often an absent, "Yes, it is warm out here," or a, "Yes, someday, according to everyone else, you will get to sit out here all day if that's what you want to do," is spared from Io to the gold. Two steps above Iolene is a basket filled with various nibbly stuff and a jug of some liquid. Though barely a ghost during the last Hatching, due mostly to her personality but also to the more colorful types surrounding her, it was actually her absence that caused most to not notice her in the Weyr. Returning to the Healer Hall for additional classes, it was just long enough that returning during the Reaches' winter was a distinct shock. Enough so that Lirienne - desperate for more warmth - has struggled past the ugly weather to the toasty wonder of the galleries. Pausing a moment to shed a layer or two and let them dry off to side, is a slightly more familiar figure that heads towards the seating nearest the sands, a grateful - and blissful - sound escaping her. "Much better..." Iolene starts to speak, "Like I said, I agree, this was a great idea and you-," a beat passes and she fails to conclude her thought. The blonde head perks up and a funny look slants to the growing gold dragon out on the sands and then slowly turns to look behind her. Relief colors her face and a smile blossoms, "Oh, I'm not going crazy. You were the one that talked right? Isn't it just great? Ysavaeth put the idea into my head and I don't know how I didn't remember how hot these sands were. It's so much warmer than a fireplace and-... It's even better down here." True to a form, a bit of a creeping tide inches up her neck towards her face. "Ah, yes. At least, I think so. About, hm.. this being much better - than outside. Or even a fireplace." There is a pause - one where Lirienne's not stumbling over her own words, then she shakes herself and makes her way towards the stairs. Working on presenting a more confident facade, even if her words betray her. "It is not being gone then? That makes it so horrible outside, but the weather itself?" "Is what not being gone huh?" Though Iolene's good cheer remains, it's now mixed with a healthy dose of confusion as the blonde tries to decipher what Lirienne says. "I think I might have been here too long. What's that healers say happens? Heat stroke? Too much sun?" Even when there isn't any sun at all, just a lot of radiating heat from the sands. "I'm having trouble understanding what you mean. Want some bread? Cheese? Water?" Her lack of understanding leads to just trying to be hospitable and pointing to the basket near her. "Want some?" Lirienne shakes her head, slightly frustrated. "My apologies. No, uhm, I meant... being gone. To Healer Hall. The weather just, well, felt even worse - than I remembered. And," here her voice steadies a bit, ".. you should drink more water. Perhaps come up from the sand a bit? Just heat can do it, though sun makes it easier. Are you feeling chilled?" Lirienne's explanation only serves to confuse Iolene further and the good-natured blonde's brow furrows as she tries to decipher this series of the healer's words, particularly as her hospitality is turned around on her with questions and Io inches to one side of those stairs, all the better to look up at the arrived woman. "I'm-... I'm fine. I mean... I don't feel sick? I don't think. In any case," firmly shaking her head on /that/ conclusion, though there's an uneasy queasiness about her jaw, "I'm feeling fine. You should sit though. Maybe the cold went to your head and between the heat in my head and the cold in your head, we're just speaking different words to each other." Lirienne hesitates a moment, then gives the cause up for lost. And moves to the stair tread to sit down. "It /is/ nicer inside." There. That can't be confused at all. "And, ah, thank you for the offer," she adds, nodding to the basket. Then, "Ah, things going well? Since, well..." she waves at the sands in general, then towards the still-growing Ysavaeth. The smile is slow to return until Lirienne sits and then, Iolene's hand reaches up to flip the top of the basket open so the other woman can pick and choose as she wishes from the assortment of dried fruits, jerky, cheese, and bread squirreled into it. "It is," she agrees with the sentiment already shared, before looking back out to Ysavaeth picking her way across the sands, seemingly trying to 'tip toe' on those arakh-curved talons. "Are you a healer then?" The mention of the Hall and Lirienne's questions as to her health kick start some logic in Io's head and this is apparently the result of that. "I-," another glance shoots to Ysavaeth. "It's working out. I guess." Why no, there's no dubiousness in that at all. Right? Right? The red tide, starting to recede, inches upward just a touch. "Ah, apprentice only. I was orignally here to help with candidate physicals before things, well, changed. I am posted here though, as it was, uhm, thought it would do me good. Being at the Weyr." After getting that out, she ducks her head a bit, the better to observe the basket. Finally, she chooses a small bit of dried fruit to nibble on the edge of. "It is? That's good then," she adds belatedly about the growing dragon, totally missing anything under the words. "It's kind of weird," Iolene continues, missing the fact Lirienne's missed the subtext of her words. "I mean. I don't know. The other day, E'dre brought something up I hadn't realized, about how the Weyrleaders get to decide where I live and if I have to leave or stay and- I don't know if I want to leave this Weyr anymore. I mean, a year ago, and I think I wanted to leave this place so much but now..." Then, she seems to realize just how much she's babbling and flushes herself and turns out to look at Ysavaeth who's nosing some larger pieces of shell still remnant on the sands. "I'm Iolene, by the way. I don't know if we've met." "Lirienne. I... was Searched, sortly before the Hatching." The fact she is unrecognized is accepted as fact, as familiar to her as identifying the steps to making numbweed. There is a tilt of the head, before she adds, "It's, well, the same for crafters. I mean, uhm, I was told to come here. Both times, actually. But the second was less terrifying." "Really? So you don't have choices in the matter?" This clearly troubles Iolene, that furrowed brow returning as an absent hand reaches for some nibblets for herself. The blind choice results in a thin, crispy breadstick that she rests on her lower lip in thought. "That must be awful! Do you," she hesitates and ventures a slow lash-lifting look up to Lirienne on her higher step, "Like it here?" "I, ah, could probably protest, but..." Liri trails off, then shrugs. Nibbling, barely tasting at the same piece of fruit, she thinks over her answer for a moment, then shrugs again. "It is... alright? I haven't, uhm, visited many places. It's... different. I know more people at the Hall." "Tell me about the Hall," requests Iolene, that slow-returning smile finally showing a glimmer about the corners of her lips. "I've never been anywhere else other than the Weyr. I mean, not on Pern at least. Oh, and High Reaches Hold that one time... until the necklace got stolen." The blonde rider's lower lip, the breadstick with it, disappears into her mouth as she nibbles on the food and then gnaws on her lower lip. "Did you always know you wanted to be a healer? Or did you not have a choice with that as well?" "The Hall? It's... busy. And full, usually," Liri offers, very unhelpfully, before tilting her head somewhat. "I have, mostly, always known. Grew up at the Hall, with my parents being posted there. So.. it is home, for the most part." And probably why at 20 turns, she was not unhappy to return there, even if still an apprentice. "But... my parents had preferences - and encouraged things they preferred." Then, seeking to change the focus slightly, "The neck... oh, during the Gather? I, ah, didn't go to that." Because she hid from the idea, probably. "Was, ah, it ever resolved?" For a second, Iolene looks startled at Lirienne's last question, as if the thought never occurred to her and now that it has? There's a growing disconcernment in the teenager's thin face. "No...," she concludes, "I-. No." Bewildered wonderment colors her intonation. "You would think the Hold would insist on finding out who did it or apologize if they found it." Iolene's youth and upbringing is on full display in such naive thoughts. "I wonder, sometimes, what the leaders of your Weyr do." But the remonstrations of the area's leadership is shaken off into a question. "Do you like being a healer? I guess that's what your parents did? My grams was a- ah, Headwoman on the island. I was supposed to do that too some day, but-..." Clearly, that never happened. "Ah... maybe? It depends on," here she pauses, and tries to remember that bit of social learning everyone often absorbs, "ah, who was accused, who did it, and uhm... how many leaders will give them trouble over it? I, ah, don't know many at the Hold," read: any. Then, "... my Weyr? I suppose, but, ah, I am not very familiar with them. Beyond a childhood illness, actually. Uhm.. most days I do. Especially when working in the stillroom - not for spirits though, distilling medicines. But yes, Mother is a Journeywoman, specializing in midwifry, and Father teaches." "You distill medicines?" This intrigues Iolene briefly, but then so does the subject of Lirienne's parents. "My parents fished. And my aunt was training to take over for my grams but then she died. They all did, except grams I mean, when Thread fell randomly." Her way about these deaths is a little pedantic, rote even. But sad thoughts are not for a day that's ugly outdoors and warm and toasty indoors. It should be happier and Io ventures towards happier topics with a growing curve to her lips. "Are you going to the party on Turnover? I wasn't thinking I would, but- it might be fun. The last Turnover party I went to-, well... Iovniath rose." And the Weyr turned into chaos. "Well, I am learning. I, ah, enjoy learning about herbs, and what they do." Therefore, Lirienne is probably the only person who enjoys in any sense, numbweed trips. There is a wince at the mention of deaths due to Threadfall - she's seen those type of wounds by now, and jumps on the idea of the party - sorta. "The party.. ah, no, I wasn't planning on it. You, uhm, should. If you want to." There is a pause, before she adds with a faint hint of a smile, "It, ah, should be calmer then?" "I was convinced to. I've even visited the weavers to pick out some kind of dress to wear since I don't-," the flush about Iolene's cheeks returns, deepened this time, "I don't really own anything. Most of my clothes are from the stores and they don't always fit nicely. But we got marks to spend and I don't know where to spend them otherwise." The blonde goldrider bends her head to study her hands and the remnants of her breadstick. "But I hope the party will be fun this time. I kind of hope," she confesses, "This one boy I've seen in the stables is there. You should come. It could be fun and with the idea of the masks- no one would even know it's you! You could pretend to be someone else!" "..." Liri just stares at Iolene for a long moment. "... I like my hair," she finally mumbles, reaching up to tug on a bit of bright red hair hanging loose. "... all my dresses are like this, too," she adds, waving her other hand - with a bit of fruit still held - at the slightly blue-ish, mostly gray dress. "Ah... not a good dancer either." And with each fragmented sentence, she slowly turns darker and more flustered. "I could hold your hand? We could walk through the party together? Maybe you can come and get ready with me and my friends." Iolene's smile grows more and more as she speaks even as Lirienne gets more flustered. "It could be fun. You might never know if you don't try at least." She's /trying/ to be gentle and convincing, but there is a note of fervent enthusiasm underlined in her words. "I'm sure there must be something in stores that we could piece together in a costume." Fervent Enthusiasm, meet Repressed Shyness (which is more rampant than repressed) followed by the natural inclination to go the path of least resistance. The struggle is long and hard, and she see-saws on the issue, visably. However, at the end it /is/ the enthusiasm that has Liri ageeing, "Ah, well... maybe? If we can find anything suitable. Maybe with a shawl." Iolene's smile is brilliant at the agreement and even Ysavaeth whuffs agreeably from the sands. "See, even Ysa's pleased and she is," the weyrling pauses, "Difficult to please sometimes." The book she was reading has long fallen ignored to the sands below her propped legs, but even as her arms extend in what could have become an impulsive hug, something restrains her and the extended arms instead become a one handed pat on the step next to Lirienne. "I told Rilka I would be home early tonight. It's the first time she's seeing my weyr," she tells Lirienne, as if the other woman would know who Rilka is, "I'll see you before the party then?" Lirienne has no clue, but doesn't mention it beyond the somewhat lost expression she's now wearing. "Ah, yes. Definately. Uhm, have a good evening, and I'm glad that... Ysa...? is happy too." Wait, how did this happen again. The redhead blinks for a long moment, then lacking better things to do, occupies herself by finishing off the last of the nibbled upon piece of fruit. A little bit of concern does flare in Iolene's dark blue eyes as Lirienne's lost expression sinks in. But she's shortly pulling on her boots and grabbing up her basket of food and book. "See you then." There's an attempt at encouragement in that smile of hers, but it's middling at best. "Have a good night and don't get blown over by that wind." She? She has a passageway that leads back to her weyr without venturing outdoors. Thank Faranth. Lirienne shakes herself a bit, and gets to her feet, "Ah, I will. And really - have a good evening, yes?" Pulling herself together, at least slightly, the young woman turns to head out - pausing to gather up her shawl. She has things to think over. And hiding places to find! |
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