Logs:Informative
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| RL Date: 22 March, 2011 |
| Who: B'tal, Madilla, Nyjah, Y'wan |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrfolk disappoint Nyjah, and Madilla and Bety briefly discuss Madilla's situation. |
| Where: Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 4, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Varens/Mentions |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. Nyjah is on the offensive today. She's loaded down with a wealth of sheets and a pen, comparing what Weyr denizens she now recognizes with a list of names, many of which have been scratched out. She's positioned herself at one of the little side tables, carefully monitoring the comings and goings for any faces that haven't yet been subject to the curious weavers' surveys. Instead of bored, though, she looks intent, almost predatory, clearly just waiting for the right moment to pounce. As the afternoon wears on, the tides of weyrfolk come and go, some lingering, some hurrying off immediately. For all that she's still wearing a white work apron over her sensible skirt and blouse, Madilla seems more likely to be the former: that's because she lingers about the serving tables, taking her time in selecting bits and pieces from the remains of the midday meal. The healer completes her meal with a mug of juice, then turns towards the caverns, giving empty places a measuring glance. The way that Y'wan is backing out of the kitchen, it is entirely impossible that he has not done something wrong. Nobody slinks like that when they haven't done something wrong. The fact that whatever he's done is not immediately obvious does not stop one of the kitchen crew from following him as far as the entryway, waving a towel in his general direction. His coat is an entirely impractical one, looking as though it was cobbled together from a dozen different coats with a hundred more pockets sewn on besides. After the kitchen worker heads back inside, he turns towards the rest of the cavern, eyes presumably seeking somewhere to sit. In the process, things start appearing from those pockets--two apples, a hand-sized pie of some variety. Both of the apples sit precariously in one hand while he works on the pie starts moving in some direction or another towards a seat. B'tal comes into the living cavern much more naturally than his wingmate appears to and his only motivation for doing that much seems to be the food over there sitting on the serving tables. That's where he goes without even a glance around for anyone he knows. He doesn't have a terrible over-abundance of friends, after all. He moves his way through the various food stuffs to put together a hearty plate of whatever seemed like a good idea at the time before he's turning to finally cast a quick glance around for somewhere to sit. Nyjah positively trembles with delight as she spots a perfectly good victim for her Craft's project. One traps more vtols with honey! "Madilla, here!" the height-challenged youth calls out, waving frantically to get her attention despite the attention it's gathering from her tablemates. She also notes the entrance of B'tal, but she can only survey one at a time...or can she? The weaver 'pprentice does her best to make eye contact with B'tal as well, trying to lure the other in with feigned promises in the form of a brilliant smile and dimples. Or maybe those are pimples. Madilla is distracted from her seat-hunting by Y'wan's arrival; she turns her head to consider the greenrider, the kitchen staffer, the towel. But if she intends to say anything to him - anything more than her amused smile, that is - she's distracted from that, too, this time by Nyjah's call: even in the busy caverns, one's name does tend to attract one's attention. Thus, without hesitation, the healer diverts her path towards the Apprentice, setting down her meal on the table before she sits. "Thanks, Nyjah," she says, warmly. "A meal is always better with company, I think." All of that frantic waving attracts attention from more than just the existing tablemates, no doubt, and Y'wan starts to look in that direction before he spies his wingmate. "Oh, sure," he says, eyeing B'tal's plate. "You go and take the *easy* way out. No challenge in it at all that way, is there?" He takes another bite from his pie, chews and swallows, tosses one apple up into the air and then the other soon after it as though this is merely habit, catching both once more with the same hand. Wouldn't want to endanger the pie. Making and holding any sort of eye contact is still not high on B'tal's list of things he's awesome at but he does notice the girl that might be making eyes at him and then notices Madilla, someone he /knows/ and is mostly comfortable with. offers her a smile if she happens to look his way. "Oh, uh..." He glances toward Y'wan then and hesitates before glancing down at his plate. "Is food supposed to be challenging?" Nyjah is too thrilled to blush as she beams up at Madilla. "And conversation," she replies to Madilla's last statement. She taps the papers under her protective arm. "I wonder if any of the weavers have approached you yet about a little survey...it's just a few questions..." Not to lose any more potential prey, she keeps an eye on B'tal. "Since you're not really busy, just with something to eat..." she coaxes of Madilla. It just so happens that Madilla /does/ turn her head and notice B'tal: he gets a brilliant, beaming smile, and Y'wan a more steady, polite one (since he is right there with the greenrider she does, in particular, know). But Nyjah's line of questioning turns her attention right back, and though she looks surprised, she answers easily enough. Picking up her fork; "No, not yet. Well - if you like. I can't promise to be terribly helpful, but I'll try." "Life," Y'wan declares, "is supposed to be a challenge." As by this point at least among his wing, his dragon's mood swings should be just short of legendary, it's probably good that he has this attitude towards life. "Ah, who's that? She's smiling. Smiling is an excellent sign." He gives B'tal a longer look, frowns slightly. "For some of us," he amends before the frown abruptly shifts back into a brilliant smile of his own to shoot back towards the originator, and he helps himself in the direction of the table Nyjah and Madilla are at. "And sure'n all that you ladies would like some company, yeah?" B'tal doesn't even get a chance to answer the question before Y'wan is off toward the table and he's left standing there with a frown of his own following the other greenrider. He seems less certain he wants to join the healer and the other girl that keeps looking at him now that Y'wan has invited himself but another glance toward Madilla has him moving that way and settling down nearby with a quiet, "Hey." Success at her business has Nyjah smiling broadly as she organizes her paperwork. "Wonderful," she chirps, looking up as they're joined by the green riders. "And you, gentlemen? Do you have the time to answer a few briefs questions for the Weavercraft?" B'tal seems uncertain, so she applies herself fully to leeeeaning forward and giving him her sweetest, most amiable of grins. "This Turn we're very eager to be cutting edge in the fashion of Pern. We're already making a move, but we want to make sure what we're producing is consistent with what our customers want to see! Your thoughts are /very/ important to us." She taptaptaps her pen. "You could make a huge difference, and the Craft would appreciate you!" Madilla looks-- not dubious, as such, but a little shy, about this whole fashion thing. But she smiles warmly at the two newcomers, encouraging them to join without /exactly/ saying as much. Except; "Hello, B'tal. I hope you and Jeibeth are well?" And anyway, until there are /actually/ questions forthcoming, she'll apply herself to her lunch. "Questions? Got all the time in the world for questions," Y'wan is easy enough to declare. He only barely manages to pull out a chair by flipping his apples heavenwards long enough to use that hand to pull it out and then catch them again. Then he promptly finishes off the pie rendering that whole exercise pointless. "Questions're good stuff, y'know. Like--why can't we build wagons with wings? How many blades of grass does it actually take to feed a dragon? What're your names? That last one especially." The question is clearly directed at the girls. "We're both fine," returns B'tal a little lamely but his smile makes up for his lack of words somewhat, cheeks dimpling. He pokes at his food with a fork as he glances at Nyjah and offers a small shrug. "Sure, suppose I have time. Not sure I'm much use for fashion, but." He'll give it a shot, maybe. His blue eyes end up on Y'wan soon enough, though, and it's an odd look that he's given. He doesn't answer for the one he knows, however, leaving it to her to offer as she pleases. He has food to attend, after all. Nyjah claps her hands together with delight. "Well then! Let's get started then." She reviews a list of questions on hand. "I'll ask you a couple, and let you think it over. Take your time. And," she adds, especially for B'tal, "A lot of people say that. But most have a better eye than they would think." She clears her throat and continues. "First..on a cool spring day, what is your preferred mode of dress? Clothes /required/, thank you...and second, if you could see any facet of Pernese life expressed in style, be it a fedora or a Gather gown, work trous or maybe a pair of shoes, what would it be?" Madilla, looking pleased, tells B'tal: "I'm glad." She looks pleased, too, and even a little pink cheeked, for Y'wan's questions; sounding amused, she tells him, "I'm Madilla." And, since Nyjah is apparently too occupied with her questions: "And this is Nyjah." /Those/ questions, on fashion, draw a faintly wrinkled brow: the healer looks perplexed. "Skirt, blouse, shawl?" she replies, hazily, as though she's desperately hoping it's the 'right' answer. "And a coat, sometimes, if needs be. But I don't have the faintest idea what you mean by the other." If Y'wan has noticed that the introductions all came from Madilla, it doesn't stop him from smiling at both of them. "Y'wan, nice t'meet you and all that. I find in the spring it's easiest to put pants on one leg at a time. And a shirt. Shirts're important but you really can't rush them." He's just full of answers, even if they aren't useful ones. But the second question of Nyjah's just gets a furrowed-brow look. "What, like, 'I believe the fundamental unfairness and inevitability of death is best reflected by a worn left shoe'? That'd sound a bit mad, wouldn't it?" Listening to the answers that the others give, B'tal is either taking his time in forming his own or he has absolutely no idea. "Uhh," is his brilliant beginning there. "Right, pants and a shirt's usually it, I guess. I like, uh, scarves, too." It's not like that's something people can't see when he's wearing one but it makes him drop his gaze to his food all the same and he doesn't even bothering trying to figure out the second question. Nyjah blinks as she scratches out these responses. It's clear from her expression that she's not exactly...wow'ed. "Of course," she says, with a bit more snap than intended, to Y'wan. "That's called /vision/, not madness. Or how about fellis. The drought of healing sleep, in flowing greens and orange, in sisal vest and an elegant..." But no. The girl looks despairingly from one to the next of her three victims, then puzzles over her list. Maybe something a bit more simple. "Okay...try these. What colors do you feel best express the spring season? And, should one show more skin, or less?" The weaver's expression isn't quite as enthusiastic, however. This isn't going how she'd planned. Not at all. "You, too, Y'wan," says Madilla, genuinely; she's still smiling. To be honest, it's easier to smile at the greenrider than at Nyjah: for all that she's doing her best to look polite and helpful, there's no question that the healer is still unsure. "Like... costumes? Oh." Taking a bite from her plate gives her time to think over the next question for a moment (or three), but it's slightly easier, at least: "I like brighter colours in spring. I mean-- in general, I guess. But after winter, it's nice? It seems like it's usually too cold to show much skin, though. Not to mention wet." Given that the new questions don't seem overmuch different from the old, Y'wan's answers now are a bit more terse. "Green's always a lovely color," is at least genuine enough, possibly for obvious reasons given the knot. "And that bit'd depend entirely on whose skin happened to be showing at the time." It might be the obvious thing to do, but at that there *is* a bit of an extra smile for the girls. Just a bit. He sets his two apples very carefully on the table. "Has been quite damp. And Elenath in no mood for the mud. Pity." For himself, B'tal just stays out of that round of questions altogether, pretending to pay rather more attention to his food rather that anything he ought to be answering. He's still practically in uniform, after all. His fashion sense can't be that amazing. He watches, though, particularly Y'wan and the way that he talks to the girls the way that he does. Nyjah sighs and smiles oh-so-sweetly, but the look in her eyes is cold steel. /Amateurs/. "Well. It's been...very informative!" Her tone is sugar-sweet, but her manner as she double checks her information and stacks her pages is brisk. "The Weavercraft," and here she puts heavy emphasis on the Craft's name, as if to separate herself, "appreciates all you can do to help us stay ahead." She moves as if to stand, and pauses as something occurs to her. "My apologies...did any of you have any questions I might pass on?" Madilla's cheeks have gone pink again, and a darker shade, this time. She seems genuinely embarrassed to have been so... unhelpful. She /also/ still seems genuinely confused. It's enough that she misses Y'wan's extra sile, which may well be for the best. "I'm sorry we weren't more helpful, Nyjah. I just-- don't know much about this. But no, no questions from me." "Sure." Yes, Y'wan actually has a question. He leans across the table, peering at Nyjah with bright eyes. "Aren't you lot supposed to be having your own ideas for these things? Creating art'n all that." Art which somehow seems to remind him of his apples, retrieving them to start tossing them again. One lands rather heavily on the floor after a bad throw, so clearly he is not perfect at this, but he just picks it up and goes on again. Eating them doesn't seem to be high on the priority list. Mostly, however, they make high and easy arcs between his hands. He eyes B'tal after a moment of that. "You always so quiet? Figured you'd perk up more outside the daily grind." B'tal doesn't seem embarrassed, exactly, but he also isn't lingering on any of the questions he hasn't been able to answer for the poor weaver. He offers a small smile for Madilla like that might be at all worthwhile and since Y'wan is talking after he puts another mouthful away, he simply shrugs his shoulders to the other greenrider's question. And when he swallows, offers, "Don't think I perk up in anyway you'd appreciate." Nyjah breaths in sharply, eyeing Y'wan with increased approval. Maybe not all is lost. "Don't worry about it," she offers to Madilla. "The Craft is, of course, determined to create unique works of art that all can appreciate. But.." She holds up a finger, sizing Y'wan up and arching her brows, "we must make sure that, in some mild way, our art will be well-accepted. All that work will be for nothing if we can't sell at the Gathers and pay for the labor. Weaving takes time." She makes sure she hasn't missed any paperwork, or her pen, and bows a bit more formally to her tablemates. "Who knows? Perhaps something you've suggested will be circulating the Weyr faster than you think." She gives them another dazzling (fake) smile and saunters off to seek out more sap...er, visionaries. Madilla smiles after Nyjah, but it's not exactly the full-blown beam of earlier. Instead, it's still genuinely puzzled. Once the weaver is out of earshot, and not before, she glances back at her tablemates, giving B'tal another quick smile, and Y'wan a longer glance. Her comments are more general, though; "I don't think we pleased her, much, there. But I'm still not really sure what she was getting at, were either of you?" At least, now, she can actually start eating her lunch in earnest. "Not the faintest," Y'wan says with a shake of his head and a look after Nyjah. But then he holds his fruit in one hand, looks at it, and then glances out at the bowl. "Figures. You'll s'cuse me, she's going to have some kinda fit I don't go out there and pay attention to her for awhile 'fore we have to go back t'work." He smiles at both Madilla and B'tal, this time, not really favoring one over the other, attention still a bit distracted by whatever's going in his head. "Nice to meet you," he adds for the healer. "Sure and I'll see you around plenty." And with that, he gets up and makes a rather hasty retreat towards whatever his dragon's up to. B'tal watches Nyjah retreating for a moment or two. "No idea. Doubt she'd have any idea if I asked her what sort of mechanics she preferred in a watch or something, though." He nods after Y'wan, this time looking at his food rather than watching the other greenrider leave. There's a certain air of relief about the others having gone now but B'tal doesn't seem in a hurry to start up any other sort of conversation. "And you," says Madilla, politely, after Y'wan's retreating back. She's silent after that, despite B'tal's remarks; it's not until she's taken a careful sip from her mug that she turns her attention back towards him. "Or if I asked about which herbs I ought to put in my remedy for-- something," she agrees, then, despite the fact that it's been some time since /his/ comment. Sucking in a breath, she swallows, lowering her gaze towards the table rather than actually look at the greenrider. "Verens still wants Lilabet and I to move to the Hall." No doubt she's already mentioned the proposal to him, the original conundrum, and her suggestion that he commute from the weyr. An expression crosses his face, however briefly, that has been there before but with her gaze down and the way that he turns his head to look somewhere else, it doesn't have much hope of finding an audience. He doesn't say anything for a long few moments but he doesn't bother with his food, either. Then, finally, "Still don't like it. But it's your decision, Madilla, not mine." Of course, he can't keep that hint of hurt entirely out of his voice. Most likely because he might not realize it's there. "You need to do what's best for you, right?" Despite herself, Madilla's eyes fill up with tears at that hint of hurt - or perhaps it's the combination of that, and everything else. "I-- I don't know what's best, B'tal," she murmurs, finally. "I don't know. I don't /want/ to move." There's a but, of course: she doesn't want to refuse her chance at happiness with this man. "I don't want to take your daughter away from you. It isn't fair." She sounds utterly miserable, and although it genuinely sounds like she wants to say more, she breaks off: suddenly, without words. "Madilla," says B'tal, a bit more firm than his usual tone of voice. "You do know what's best. I'm sure you always have." There the hurt slips away to something more resigned and he pokes at his food for a few moments before setting down his fork on his plate. "Make your decision without worrying about me, alright? I'll deal with whatever you give me. I can visit easy enough. Could maybe even put in for a transfer closer, even. Okay?" Tears are never a comfortable thing and he's probably fighting of a few of his own rather admirably. The firmness of B'tal's tone surprises Madilla into raising her head and watching the greenrider for a moment or three. Then, finally, she nods. If there are still tears, at least she's managing to mostly control them. "I know," she says, finally. "But I don't want-- I don't know what I want. It's not just you that's making this difficult, I promise. High Reaches is /home/, now. That's all." She shakes her head, attempting to push a smile back onto her face. "I'm sorry. For bring it up." "Still holds," he assures her. "One less thing to think about with everything else." B'tal still seems uncertain about actually looking at the healer but he does spare a glance to offer something like a comforting smile. "Wasn't always home. You could make somewhere else home just as easily. More easily, probably, with Lily and... all." He may not have any particularly romantic inclination toward Madilla but he's never been /completely/ welcoming of this other man. "Anyway... I better get back to work." He starts to rise, picking up his plate along the way. Madilla opens her mouth to say something else, but for the second time in the space of a couple of minutes, fails completely. Instead she nods. And finally, before B'tal disappears entirely: "We'll see. But. B'tal? You'll always be Lily's father. Wherever we go. Whatever happens. You'll always matter." It may not have been up for debate, but-- there it is. B'tal pauses for a moment and glances back toward Madilla without quite meeting her gaze. He smiles and gives a small nod but he doesn't say anything else before he's turning back to take his leave and get on with the rest of his day. Madilla watches after B'tal until he's quite gone. Then she lets out a sigh, wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and rises. She, too, has places to be. |
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