Logs:Hospitable Hattie
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| RL Date: 13 June, 2013 |
| Who: Hattie, R'co |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'co finds Hattie in her Weyr's nighthearth. |
| Where: Nighthearth, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 13, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear as a bell, the sun shines in pale winter skies, though an occasional sharp breeze blows. |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions |
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| Nighthearth, Fort Weyr An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses Fort Weyr's nighthearth. The cozy little nook is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. Several leather upholstered chairs stand clustered around the hearth itself which has a grate for propping up chilled feet to warm up on cold days. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space well-supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls and spoons that line the mantel for general use. The breakfast rush has been and gone, riders on the earliest of sweeps have returned and vanished, and all is well on the way to surrendering morning to afternoon, with the caverns bearing the marks of a busy day (in the form of muddy footprints, among other things). The nighthearth is among the morning's casualties, its fire burning low, blankets askew and crockery piling up both on the mantel above the hearth and around the ever-present pots of stew and klah. One of the youngest drudges, presumably a new recruit, is gathering up some of the abandoned plates and cups, her focus only half on the task, for she's also warily watching the Weyrwoman assist her, clearly unsure of whether she should accept help. Whether the girl wants her assistance or not, Hattie keeps right on gathering up bowls and plates in a slow, methodical manner. With leathers soaked and bitterly cold from between, R'co's entrance into the foreign Weyr's nighthearth can be for only one thing - klah. Well, and possibly heat, too. As with any other visit to Fort, he's bearing his typical large bag, filled no doubt with bathing treats and other pampering delights, to drop off to the small customer base he's gathered; this bag is set down on a chair, while he takes a moment to look at the slightly chaotic scene he's walked into. "Best from High Reaches to you, Weyrwoman Hattie," he greets the woman after a moment of watching her assist the drudge, who gets a crooked smile and wink for herself. "Might I steal a mug of klah, in return for... well, perhaps a helping hand?" The poor drudge - who can't be more than fourteen - looks all the more terrified when she notices that she has an /audience/ to witness her at the mercy of the Weyrwoman's assistance, her gaze abruptly dropped to the floor as she hastens forward to claim a stack of cups from the goldrider and dashes off to return the batch of dirty crockery in her arms to the kitchen without so much as a nod for R'co. Hattie watches the girl with a guarded, considering look before she lifts her dark eyes to the visiting brownrider and gives him the acknowledgement that the drudge wouldn't or couldn't. "And to High Reaches' Weyrwomen," she answers evenly. But, "Sit down," is all but an order. "It's bad enough that I can't do absolutely everything myself; I won't have visitors help too," Hattie drawls dryly, beginning to head over to claim a clean mug. The poor drudge is watched with a flicker of amusement in R'co's blue eyes, though it's Hattie's response to his request that has a gentle smirk growing upon his rosy lips. "As you wish, ma'am." If he's asked to sit, he will - he perches on the edge of a chair beside his bag of goodies, one blonde brow quirked high on his forehead as he watches the industrious woman. "Are you quite sure you don't want a hand there? I've never had a goldrider wait on me before." His gaze follows her, lips pursed slightly, head canted gently to one side. "It's not only your weather that's more hospitable today," he says softly, resting his hands on his knees. "High Reaches is drowning in winter rain, it's quite miserable. And yet here... well, you've a beautiful day out and I'm being treated to klah. It's enough to make a man consider moving." "If you have to hand out orders, then you should be willing to do what you ask of others," Hattie replies matter-of-factly, one shoulder lifted in a almost careless shrug. She doesn't lift the klah pot, but tips it slightly with the mug held to its lip, drink not poured so much as splashed into the mug, though there's little spillage. Certainly not on the outside of the mug itself. "And if some sunshine and a mug of klah handed to you by someone with a fancy knot is enough make you consider moving, then things must be worse at High Reaches than I thought." Crossing the small cavern again, she holds the mug out towards R'co, brows lifted expectantly. R'co accepts the mug with both hands curled around it, to soak up the warmth into his fingers. "Things are interesting as ever at home," he replies, with a tiny shrug of his shoulders. A case of SSDD, perhaps? "Regardless of politics and the knock-on effects though, ma'am, can you imagine Weyrwoman Aishani rolling up her sleeves to serve anyone klah, let alone a foreign rider? You're awfully kind for doing so, when I'm quite sure you've got far more important things to occupy yourself with." Hattie retreats to the arm of one of the chairs closest to the dying fire, planting her hands down at her sides to steady herself as she half-leans again, half-sits on it, yet a moment later that is found to be uncomfortable and so she opts to sit properly in the chair instead. "I think what Aishani chooses to do or not to do as part of her duties as Weyrwoman is none of my or your business, truly," she says bluntly, though she's not /unkind/ with it, merely making a point of not aligning herself with what the arch of a brow suggests she sees as an inappropriate comment about the foreign Weyrwoman. "What brings you to Fort again, anyway?" "Spoken as a true diplomat," R'co chuckles, raising his mug in a cheers to Hattie for her comment on his own Weyrwoman's activities. He sips from the mug when it's lowered, after blowing on the surface to cool it somewhat. "I'm making another delivery, ma'am." The bag on the seat beside him is patted gently. "I've won over a few of your weyrfolk, and I'm here to drop off their supplies." With one hand, he loosens the tie at the neck of the bag, working his way inside it to pull out a little glass jar, filled with a creamy substance. "Could I possibly tempt you with a treat or two, ma'am? Having another Weyrwoman on my list of customers is always a boon for business." "I'm afraid not," Hattie replies, one corner of her mouth twitching upwards in a small smile. "Your wares aren't the sort of thing I'd usually buy for myself outside the work of crafters, as appreciative as I am of what you gave me last I saw you," she says as gently as she can. "But I'm sure you must do better trade around this time of the turn anyway? Besides," the Weyrwoman utters with a flash of a wry grin, "I should be practical and spend marks on my children, not myself, and hope whatever might find its way to me for Turn's End is for the baby and not for me." She just can sit still for long and twists a bit awkwardly in her seat to start adjusting the blanket that drapes over the back of her chair. R'co sets the jar down on the arm of his chair, returning both hands to holding his mug. "Trade is always better in the winter months, yes; there's more need for moisturisers, and more folks like to spend a little longer in the heat of the baths, too - and, of course, there's nothing quite as warming as a massage done right." He drinks from the mug again, deeper this time with a sigh of satisfaction when it's lowered once more. The way in which Hattie starts fiddling with the blanket has R'co watching her curiously. "Of course, I was offering you this little pot free of charge, ma'am. A little something in return for your hospitality. It's quite good for all skin, even little ones." Hattie refuses to leave the blanket alone until it's been pulled back into line and its corners are perfectly square (or as square as she can get them to be). "I meant more that I suppose people will be buying gifts for Turn's End," she says, already casting her gaze about for something else to readjust, which is right when the young drudge reappears and sweeps off again with another armful of crockery in a matter of seconds. "And I wasn't suggesting that you /should/," the Weyrwoman seeks to make clear, quite as bad at accepting gifts of any size as she is at accepting assistance. "If anything, I likely owe you something - this place looks like there's been a brawl in here." Exaggerating, much? "Fetching a mug of klah is hardly the height of good hospitality." "Ma'am, it never even crossed my mind that I should give you anything for free. I offered it because I wanted to." R'co grins at her, raising his mug once more before drinking down what's left in it. "You certainly owe me nothing, Weyrwoman, as allowing me to do business here, and allowing me a mug of klah, is more than enough - I may have awfully complex desires elsewhere in my life, but in this instance? The simplest of things bring the warmest satisfaction." Such as a cup of something hot when you're otherwise freezing. "I'll tell you what, ma'am, I'm going to leave this little jar here. Perhaps you'd like to take it for yourself; perhaps someone else will take it. Think of it as a... a gift to the Weyr, that you can help yourself to if you're so inclined to." He smiles, then tosses his blonde hair out of his eyes. "Shall I wait for that darling young lady to come back and take my mug, or is there somewhere I can put it in the meantime, Weyrwoman Hattie?" The Weyrwoman looks just the tiniest bit comfortable at mention of complex desires, but that is soon washed away by her sighting the dying fire as if only just noticing it. Hattie pushes up out of her seat to claim a handful of scraps of hide and other small combustibles from a shallow metal bucket beside the hearth, flinging the lot into the low flames. "I suppose that is the most prudent course of action," she has to agree, faint smirk hidden by the fall of frizzy hair. "I... wouldn't hold your breath in hope of her return," she says, a touch of wryness edging her words once more. "She's new. Not said one word to me yet. I don't think she'll brave the room another time until we're both gone." Glancing over one shoulder back at R'co, she nods towards the mantel. "There should do." R'co gets up to set his empty down on the mantel as directed, making sure it's placed just so before he retreats back to his chair. "Poor thing. Perhaps me clearing out will bring her back in sooner, rather than later?" Then the girl will only have to deal with one person, not two. "I really should be on my way anyway, as I'm on rather a tight schedule today." He sighs softly, tiredly, even, before picking up his bag from the seat next to him, and getting once more to his feet. The jar of moisturiser remains sitting where he left it, perched on the arm of the just-vacated chair. "I'll thank you again for the klah and conversation, ma'am. It's always a pleasure bumping into you here - do have your Elaruth pass on any needs you may have to my Deveriteauxth, won't you? And if I can satisfy them, I'll deliver as soon as I can. For free, naturally." He winks at her, then looks down at the abandoned little jar, before raising his blue-eyed gaze to the Weyrwoman once more. "It's probably," definitely, "me, not you," Hattie answers resignedly, though she doesn't /look/ particularly distressed about intimidating the new girl, the fact of the matter taken in stride as though an everyday occurrence. She eyes the jar quite as if it's a playing piece or a dangerous weapon left between them, with a winner and loser decided by its acknowledgement or acceptance, yet though she /notes/ it, she takes not a step towards it for the moment. When R'co winks at her, a flash of something pained - or merely irritation - crosses her features and leeches much of any kindness away with it, steeling a retreat to formality. "Thank you, brownrider," seems the safest and most diplomatic thing to say, and so that is what she opts for, a curt - though polite - nod of her head given. "You're quite welcome, Weyrwoman," R'co replies with a dip of his head, and a playful salute. "I do hope your weather stays clear for a while yet; it's such a relief to escape to." He shoulders his bag, gently settling it so as not to damage the fragile contents within. "Enjoy the rest of your day, ma'am. Perhaps I'll bump into you before I leave? If not... well, until our next fortuitous meeting, hrm?" His smile grows, flashing a little tooth before this time, he gives the goldrider a smart salute, before turning to head back out on his errand. |
Comments
Aishani (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 14 Jun 2013 14:13:59 GMT.
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Interesting idea of Shani... she takes stuff out from the kitchens and cleans up her own things all the time. Doesn't do klah, though, that's true. Does do drinks. ;)
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