Logs:It's a dragon thing
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| RL Date: 24 March, 2011 |
| Who: Lujayn, Nyjah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nyjah does the gruntwork. Long conversation ensues. |
| Where: Lujayn's (Fixer-Upper) Weyr, High Reaches |
| When: Day 16, Month 4, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
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| It doesn't look like Lujayn has done much in the ways of housekeeping since her return. Some dustcovers are gone, piled unceremoniously to one side of the exit, but that bit of effort only reveals how mismatched the furniture is. Plush sofa, wicker-woven ottomans, painfully plain desk and chair of unfinished wood. The stone table carries its dustcover like a rudimentary tablecloth, some writing supplies having been set and abandoned there - clearly the preferred working spot over any desk. The three-quarter walls have been cluttered with smaller possessions, trinkets and useful items alike; along one entire ledge an aged green firelizard stretches in slumber. Lujayn is sitting cross-legged on the green sofa, facing an empty hearth with little expression. Her fingers are busy unpeeling a citrus fruit; a small glint of gold from the ledge indicates that Rielsath is soaking up all the warmth the wan sunlight can provide given the cool air. Plodding up the stairs from the complex, Nyjah huffs as she totes the hide-wrapped rug in her arms. The weather is mild enough that she's settled for a plain flax-sown dress to be comfortable in which groups and bundles awkwardly. Her sandles tack loudly enough to announce her approach, though she's more focused on her efforts than calling out to the Junior weyrwoman. Hopefully she's in. Lujayn can hear Nyjah long before the apprentice appears in the doorway; both the huffing and sandal-clopping are clue enough. She leaves the fruit and tosses the peel into a bin filled with odds and ends, rising to greet the deliverer - "Oh, they didn't," She rolls her eyes, quickly reaching forward to take one end of the roll from Nyjah. "Apprentices aren't drudges. They could have at least sent someone to help." Skipping greetings completely, the rider waits for the young woman to get her bearings before issuing instructions: "Right over there, in front of the fireplace," She backs up, stepping with the precarious backwards walk of someone helping to carry a particularly frustrating object. "Up the stairs and all," Tsk. Someone's talkative today. "Well, better you than some numbskull who doesn't know not to drag it in the dirt." Hm. She finally meets Nyjah's gaze with a grin, rambling speech slowing. "Sorry. I've been expecting this for a while.. Nyjah, right?" Nyjah is rather surprised at the sudden offer for assistance but does not object as the rider assists her and relieves her of some of the burden. "Oh, no, it's alright.." she insists, manuevering the package to the requested place and lowering it carefully to the floor. She plucks at the tightly-bound strings woven along the edges of the hide but does not unwrap the parcel. "I'll let you do the honors and see what you think," she offers generously, lifting her hands to emphasize that she will not help. "If it's not to your satisfaction, I will most certainly pass the word along and it can be done again. Our apologies that it took so long." Her words are formal but not clipped, so she doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry. "And...well, yes. It is Nyjah." Her smile is hesitant, as if she's quite pleased that Lujayn remembered. She clasps one wrist with the other hand, arching a brow and waiting for her to have a look. Lujayn leans forward expectantly as Nyjah unties the rolled carpet, inching around to the other side. "It was a side project I asked Jorian to take on, kinda out of the blue. I didn't expect anything for a while." She kneels down and begins to unfurl the colorful creation, crawling across its plush fibers in the process. "Nice and soft," She remarks. Turning to view it as a whole, she sits back on her heels for one silent moment. Eyes glance over the rich blues in the pattern and its whipped golden border, smiling more broadly. "This is excellent. Just what I had in mind, especially the border," Fingering the thicker edge to test its strength, "the old thing was fraying so badly." From kneeling to standing the approval is the same, hands on her hips. "Best piece in the whole place. My compliments. How's the survey coming?" Somehow striding right past business into casual, Lu picks up the citrus fruit from the couch and blows on it before continuing the peeling process. "How many people are fond of yellow this turn?" Nyjah studies Lu's face carefully to make sure the compliments are sincere, and nods her own approval. "Delegation is useful sometimes...and even the journeymen have projects they might prefer." The hand holding her wrist slips up to her arm, rubbing nervously at her shoulder. Her brow furrows, expression quickly folding into cautious disappointment. "I had...well. The Master, I heard, has been pleased with the results, but.." The corner of her mouth twitches. "Maybe it's because of how far we are North. Fort, Boll, but here..." She sighs. "It's not what I had expected. Or hoped.." It's at that moment she suddenly realized she's said perhaps more than she meant to, for she blushes and falls silent, finding a very interesting bit of floor to stare at, eyes wide with alarm. Lujayn frowns in turn, catching the discontent in Nyjah's snippets of speech. "It was good of you to follow your duty," She encourages as any good dragonrider ought to, but goes no further in that direction. Plopping onto the puffy green couch (it even complements the bright new rug, or at least doesn't clash horribly) she pats the cushion next to her. "Have a rest if you want. That thing was really a two-person job." Little flecks of citrus peel stick under her fingernails and she chews at them, eyeing Nyjah for a moment. "It's removed from the real fashion centers, you're right. Or is it the climate?" She asks, intrigued by the mention of so many other places. Rielsath stirs briefly - "No, she said nothing of the sort. " - and Lu's attention is once more upon the weaver. "Our duty to you, Lujayn," the weaver objects, for to be sure it was Lujayn who brought her request to them, and not the other way around. Thin brows furrow at the sudden exchange between dragon and rider, though Nyjah is again too polite to ask. "And...climate may have something to do with it, but even heavy clothes can be made attractive." Finally shy, she sinks down onto the couch, nibbling at her lower lip. Yet even shyness cannot deter her from talk of what she loves best. "Of course, the main Weavercrafthall is in Southern Boll...and then Fort Hold's not too far off. So they have all the luck." The girl's envy, and desire, are plain in her voice. "I've never been there, but I've..heard." Dark blue eyes gloss over as her mind, at least, travels the distance. "You were sent here, is that right?" Now admiring the black whorls that border the carpet's true weave, Lujayn's gaze drifts away from the shy girl, gives her some space. "Never been, not even on a whim? You'd think a good journeyman would want their pupil to at least get a tour." Surprised, she looks back even as her dragon grumbles. "Sorry. Rielsath's a Reachian through and through. We don't have the crafthall here, Ri," Lu has to explain again to her dragon, this time verbally for Nyjah's benefit. "If that girl had her way, we'd be Pern's only hub." Eyeroll, and a thought. "Y'know, I'm from Fort myself. Way back when." Nyjah harumphs, leaning back in the cushions and finally succumbing to the urge of folding both arms across her chest. "My first cousin thought I would be safer and prosper better in High Reaches Hold." Rielsath's grumbling seems to unsettle her and she shrinks a bit, as if she might hide behind the couch rather than sit on it. But... "You've /been/ to Fort?" Perhaps a stupid question, and she realizes it almost as soon as it's out of her mouth. "I mean..was it...before?" As if irritated with her own uncertainty, she forces her hands to rest still and calm in her lap, giving Lu a wide-eyed, curious stare. Also known as gawking. "I grew up there, not that I knew much about the Weavercrafthall. Mostly I did Running work." Lujayn thinks back. "Shards, it's been longer than I want to admit since I've been there." It's memories of Igen and High Reaches fresh in her mind, but no one really forgets their first home. "It's big," She begins, not sure what Nyjah's stammered questions are getting at. "Lots of activity, especically with both the Harpers and Healers setting up around the Hold. I went there more often than Boll, though there was a Runner station there for longer trips." She might be rambling, but that seems to be hitting just the right note with the other girl. Some storytelling, some description. "It's big even /outside/ of the halls. A lot of open land." She can't help but smile. "Good exploring-type places, valleys and rocky hills. But I'm guessing you're more interested in the Weavers," She plies a little more, silently offering half the citrus in an open palm. "I'd see the oddest getups, no question." Running? Snore...but Nyjah's disappointment is fleeting. "Big," she repeats wistfully. "I begged and begged him to let me go there, but he said I shouldn't." Her disappointment is more than just temporary petulance. The set of her shoulders and the softening in her eyes speaks of a genuine sense of lost opportunity. Shaking off the melancholy, she presses on with her questioning. "More Gathers than Nabol's probably had...do they have more people than High Reaches?" Something in Nyjah's tone suggests that she indeed thinks this is likely. "And anyway, lots of valleys and hills mean more cotholders to sell, too, as well. They like the shelter." She speaks with authority on that point. Lujayn nods. "There are lots of opportunities for cotholds. And lots of room in the established Halls, no matter how many people they have." Another pause, scrutinizing the apprentice more closely. "You're old enough to decide for yourself, aren't you? Whether you stay or go? If you want to apprentice here or at Fort?" /There's/ the Lujayn most people would recognize, her independent streak and readiness to challenge ... well, anything. "Plenty of gathers, maybe some displays at the Crafthall before opening season.. I might be going to see what they've decided is proper and fashionable." Mischief! She sets the citrus half down and carefully separates the sections of her own. "Not that you'd be interested in that. People parading around in silly hats." Nyjah frowns, reaching out for the offered fruit now that she has noticed it. She was too distracted by the conversation at first. "I suppose I am...but Sorling...he's my first cousin...he seemed concerned." She uses her fingers to peel away a section to pop in her mouth. "Something about he thought my father would interfere." She snorts derisively. "Like /that/ could ever happen. My father was always nothing but bluster. I don't know why he was so worried. You know.." and suddenly she veers to another subject, "..this couch is pretty comfortable for being second-hand. But...don't you have the marks for things that match?" Again she bites her lip, flinching. "Sorry..it's just...I thought a g-gold rider would probably have loads of marks, or.." Gah. Money's not a crass topic, at least not in this company. Lujayn shakes her head - not in dissent, just in disbelief of herself. "Four marks a stipend. I could do plenty, furniture or otherwise." She stretches a little, letting her feet sink into that wonderful rug. "I've been lazy about decorating. The dustcovers just came off a couple of days ago, actually. It was kind of nice, all the white. Kind of suspected it was a joke on the Weyr's part; it's the kind of hilarious welcome-back surprise we could get a kick out of." She really has no idea, judging from the shrug. "I'll piece it together. Never been a nester, myself. As long as I can be warm and Rielsath can sprawl on her ledge, I'm good." As Nyjah keeps changing the topic, Lu is relentless with steering it back. "Coming up soon, I think. Presentation down at Fort of the crafthall's latest swag. It's gonna be a good opportunity for me to visit home, see some friends. Do some networking." Hint hint. Nyjah is young...she has the luxury of being flighty. And not catching hints. "Must be nice," she says with surprisingly little envy. Though, somewhat back on topic: "Really, though, you'd be amazed how popular hats can be. They attract quite a bit of attention, and I've heard some of the Fort ladies can use all the help they can get." Snirk. But then.. "Only just?" The apprentice is horrified. "You really should have the drudges come in and tidy for you. I'm sure you could probably find any number of normal Weyrfolk to help. At least you have a nice big space. I sleep in a cot." She pauses with significant distaste. "All I get between myself and my neighbors is a little thin curtain. Some of /those/ girls snore." So uncouth. Lujayn turns a little embarrassed at Nyjah's surprise. "Madness, just no method." She confesses. "And I remember those cot days. Should be taking more advantage, round up a team of decorators. Or anyone in the living cavern who wants something to do." "You could take some credit for this," She admits. "But I think I could fill up that wardrobe they gave me with some nice pieces this Turn. All my Igen wear has to go." Bah, cleaning out. Showing herself to be more and more the 'life perseveres in chaos' type, the Junior looks over her shoulder out at the ledge. "Tell y'what. I'll take you down to Fort with me when I go to savvy up on their trends. I can bring something back for our weavers to chew over and get you an idea of what it's like there." It's as straightforward as Lu is going to get without physically dragging Nyjah onto Rielsath. "I don't think there's anything objectionable, 'specially if I'm going to be your, uh, escort." Nyjah stares. Excitement and something that looks suspiciously like horror war with her face, but it's the more fearful emotion that finally wins out. "Oh, I couldn't possibly!" she gasps, one hand lifted to her mouth with shock. "I mean..she..and you...I..." Suddenly making no sense whatsoever, she stumbles into silence until she can gather her thoughts. Musn't offend.. "I'm..honored..that you would offer something like that. But I couldn't possibly. My duty..." She almost spits the word, "..is here." The sheen of sudden sweat on her forehead suggests something else may be bothering her, not that she's admitted it verbally. "Do or don't, but I'll hold my end." Rather like a certain carpet. Lujayn taps her fingers on the armrest of the couch, fubally rising. "A visit doesn't mean you're changing allegiances. It can be on your day off, it can be an educational trip endorsed by what's-her-name, anything." The wheels in her head are turning, and between dragon and rider there are plenty of well-greased gears to power her through to more conclusions. "Or is it a dragon thing?" Painfully direct, intent on prying something definite from Nyjah's stammering mouth. "Duty is subjective, y'know." For a long moment, she's silent, avoiding looking at the rider. Yet she's already revealed so much...Nyjah sighs. "Yes, it's a dragon thing," she mutters, albeit reluctantly. She looks up, eyes glistening with shame. "But just please don't tell anyone! It's..I don't want to be made fun of." That's probably as direct and honest as Nyjah is capable of being. "They're just so big. I'm always scared that they might.." Again her eyes reveal that her mind has gone somewhere else. "Might hurt me. All I've ever heard were...terrible things." She gestures toward the ledge. "Do you always feel safe..with her?" Clearly she's very, very ignorant. Lujayn's silence is immediate, thinking it over; her tone could be called deadly serious if there were the least bit of deadliness to it. "Ever since I Impressed, every stupid, reckless thing, everything that's been dangerous without her knowing -" Maybe that's enough descriptors for one breath. "I won't tell," She promises. "You're not the first to be intimidated, not the last either. But if you plan making it to the big leagues, it'd be a good idea to get used to these guys. I'll talk to your journeyman about a day off in the meantime, and Rielsath.." She shrugs. "She's been right outside this whole time, watching. Commenting. She thinks you're crazy to want to leave the Reaches, but then she turns around and starts plotting your grand escape from the tyranny of your family." Lujayn grins, continuing to stand. "They must be missing you in the workroom." She offers the chance to escape if it's getting too overwhelming. "Don't think I'll let you slither out, either." The image is faded and distant, like watching something through a fogged far-viewer. Fabrics swirl through what must be vivid colors, washed out in this vision, sparkling baubles and one very large hat, all encompassed by the gentle warmth of candlelight. « ... » It isn't static, just the silence and flickering flames of anticipation. Then the images fade, as invisible as ever before. (Rielsath to Nyjah) Nyjah makes a face. The workroom..right. Yuck. "The..big leagues?" She blinks, mystified. "Well.." She rises to her feet, stretching until her back pops pleasantly. "I'm not sure what you.." She stops, sucking in a sharp breath, reaching out with an unsteady hand to catch herself before she can fall over. Thank goodness the couch is there. "You're right...I should be heading back. I will uhm..let the journeymen know you were pleased." She gives the exit to the ledge a wary look, confused, as she gathers up the hide which had protected the rug and takes her leave. And taking a little something else to think about also. Just maybe. Lujayn smiles after Nyjah without added comment, turning back to the clutter of papers on her table, then the pile of dustcovers in the corner. She'd better start by followig her own advice, after all. « We'll make her welcome. » Rielsath asserts, curious about the girl who wants but not-wants to do something so powerful. « We'll rescue her. » Idealistic to the end. Lu simply shakes her head and gets down to work. |
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