Logs:Landslides
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| RL Date: 23 May, 2015 |
| Who: Lilah, Ebeny, Dee, Casseny, G'vri, Isidro |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The Weyrlingmaster and junior weyrwoman take a contingent to help a nearby hold with hands. |
| Where: Lux's Ledge Hold, Fort Area |
| When: Day 19, Month 11, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Grey, cloudy. |
| Storyteller: Lilah/ST |
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True to it's name, Lux's Ledge Hold sits on a ledge in Fort's mountains, a hold carved out through stubborn insistence along the length of a ledge that wraps around the mountain it sits on. The hold is built with piled rocks in a single long front, the back of it provided by the mountain itself. There is very little greenery, except those seemingly meager gardens that they have managed to carve out along the outer wall of the hold. Instead, most of their room is left to mountainous herdbeasts, and even those are kept mostly for their wool. It is only four dragons that bring out the Candidates and other volunteers to Lux's Ledge, one being Lilah's own Eliyaveith despite her reticence to leave the Weyr. As soon as her passengers are unloaded, the queen retreats to find a high spot to settle on the mountain above, leaving her rider to only direct a bit snappily to the nearest young man, "Go, find someone who knows what they need done. I don't know any more than you do." The residents of the hold are already hard at work. A number of them are trying to right the gardens, while others seem to be trying to erect a fence in a place where a landslide has obviously already taken it out, clearing the debris as they put in posts. Laurienth has never been the most suitable dragon for providing transport, yet that some of those she ferries are young enough to be classed as 'charges' and not just 'boring' means that she's behaved thus far, even if her landing is a little sudden, the shock from the heavy /thud/ of paws meeting ground one that ripples through her whole body. "Don't even think about it," Ben mutters to her, as she begins to swing herself down and assist the others, more those unused to riding than the rest, and thus the dark, angular green remains still for that long, her tail lashing from side to side. Eventually free of passengers and necessary supplies, she launches away, though not so far as to not keep her nose in everything that she possibly can. Dee's dismount is the efficient one of a youth spent climbing on and off and all around dragons. She's patient enough to wait her turn and helpful enough to lend hands back up to any of the others that want it. The breeze is quick to tug at a curl of dark hair that's escaped her messy plait and give her reason to move a hand to tuck it back over her ear once her hands are done with other tasks, squinting at her new surroundings with open curiosity. Easily the only one as comfortable with Laurienth's transport particulars as her rider is the rider's daughter. Though Casseny soothes a hand over her forehead after the landing, it's only to calm flyaway hairs. Her other fingers squeeze the green hide as she skillfully disembarks. She leans close. "Good one, Laurie," is murmured close enough to that hide to be vibrations rather than words. Then, it's business-- Casseny catches a healers' bag being unloaded and moves into the shadow of her superiors with a careful, vibrant look for the hold's goings-on. Fingers clench around the bag strap. She wants to be released as badly as the dragon. "I am sure that they can use your help over there," Lilah points out to Dee even as she takes that second to take in her surroundings, the goldrider's gesture over to the gardens enough to prove that she at least remembers the Candidate's skills. But then she's turning away, moving towards where Ebeny is to murmur lowly to the greenrider, low enough to not be caught by prying young folk as she tells the Weyrlingmaster, "One of mine looked sick on the way over." Someone of Ebeny's build, were they not to be /Ebeny/, might look threatening when they swing a pickaxe and a shovel over their shoulder with the ease that she does, but being as she is, and rarely able to hide her disposition, she's all earnest focus and open concern until Lilah steals her attention. She slants the tools she's supporting with her left shoulder a touch more to ensure that there's no chance of striking anyone with them, despite her height doing most of that for her already, and lowly remarks, "Put that one on a dragon more often between now and them being on the sands. If they keep turning too green... Well, I guess I'll send them elsewhere if they Impress and have to learn to fly." She must be joking, small as her smile is. "Where d'you suppose they want me? Figure I'm better digging, building or with the runners." "Yes, ma'am," comes Dee crisp and easy response to the redhead, stepping away with a satchel of gardening supplies to the indicated area. Her smile is tempered for those already hard at work. Dee is many things, idiot might even be among them at times, but now she's aware enough from the glimpse of the mudslide that this Hold and the people here have probably seen better days. Her approach is to the nearest to the fence. "Extra hands if you point me in the direction of what needs doing," she offers without more than the added simple formality of, "and Fort Weyr's duties to Lux's Ledge." Casseny's listening to her Journeyman discuss the area but a stray hair that she grabs to contain leads her vision to her periphery-- and from there, to Lilah and Ebeny. Their words vanishing into the hold's noise don't mean she can't stare earnestly at their lips with an intensive wondering. A hint of Ebeny's smile. Casseny's released from staring like a turned lock; back to the Journeyman, to the supplies burning a brand across her shoulder as she holds them without immediate use. She's asked a question and she only nods, but it's enough, between the two. They've worked together before, and they're ready. "Their herdbeasts are down the hill," Lilah answers to Ebeny with a tip of her chin and the hint of a smile on the goldrider's lips. "No runners, from what I have gathered. Sorry. But if you need me, I will be in the hold talking to their holder." With that, the redhead turns on a heel and moves away, disappearing into the hold beyond. It is a young woman that responds to Dee's approach, who can't be more than a handful of turns older than Dee but who is certainly old enough to have a young toddler running around nearby, playing happily in the dirt. The woman wipes her own dirty hands on her skirts, already torn and muddy, and holds out one to Dee. "Nasci. Lux's duties and-- Sorry, I'm no good at this," she says with a tentative smile. It is the question that gets a drawn out sigh, a glance over the empty, destroyed beds. "Everything. We need to rebuild and replant, but we don't have the seed and with winter--." She cuts herself off, shaking her head apologetically. The journeyman healer has obviously been prepped by Lilah before this, seeing as they have had a professional relationship for some turns. (If professional relationships count as a weyrwoman invading your space and bugging you several times a week.) He walks towards a table that has been set up for this purpose, where their injured are waiting. None of them are so badly injured, anymore, to be on the brink of death, but it is obvious that bones have not been set right, wounds not properly cared for, and things of that nature. It's an older gentleman with a gash across his forehead that the journeyman directs Casseny to, and he introduces himself as, "Pakonder. But you can call me Pak, young lady." Ben lingers as a moment or so to process Lilah's response, then turns without comment to head in the opposite direction, down the hill and towards the herdbeasts milling about while holders try to deal with fencing and shelter and all manner of things. She spares a look - and it is only a look - for Casseny as she passes, checking on her without prying or waiting for her to acknowledge it, and then she continues advancing towards her intended destination. It's Laurienth who sticks around, likely told /not/ to get near the beasts, and though she's never truly still, she is at least... better behaved than she might be, more help than hindrance when addressed correctly. Dee doesn't hesitate to clasp (with both her hands) the dirty one offered her, her smile warming as naturally as the dirt underfoot would be if there were any sun to speak of. "Nasci, I'm Dee. I'm only an apprentice-- was, anyway-- but I know some, enough to help, I think. Are you in charge of this?" She gestures to the gardens reconstruction on the whole. "If you can get your squash in ground now, before the ground freezes, you'll have an early winter harvest that will help," she offers the tidbit as she shifts her satchel down to the ground and crouches to rummage. Unfortunately, it's only her work gloves she produces and none such seed. "Hello, Pak." A professionally close-lipped smile greets the older man. But even as Casseny tosses her satchel against a hip to slip a hand in, her gaze suffers from hyperactivity. The table's not a larger arena than the infirmary; it's just open. Really open. No privacy curtains means Casseny can see each injury like a bloody beacon, each poorly set arm is an arrow. Scrapes and speaking of those working the earth. Footsteps. Children. Commands. Dirt. It's so-- completely not clinical. Three of Casseny's left-handed fingers have been lingering on Pakonder's arm, for how long she can't say. But, with a quiet tuck of breath and a rapid flutter of eyelashes, she begins to move again, succinct and skilled. She remembers to give her own name. Her long fingers guide the man where she can get a proper eye on the wound. Good thing the Weyr sent a partial contingent of tall women. "Debris?" Nasci offers a faltering smile to Dee, the smile of a woman who is attempting to appear much more in control of the situation than she certainly is. "I am," she tells Dee. "I was the one who worked them the most, before-- Natlie, put that down!" Her young daughter grabbing at a piece of splintered wood from one of the broken beds is enough to interrupt Nasci, who is quick to walk over those few feet and scoop her up before returning to Dee to watch what she pulls from that bag. "We don't have-- The stores filled with dirt during the landslide. The holder is going to ask your weyrwoman to trade for something, so we just need to rebuild the beds." Pak's face crumples in a way at that question, and he repeats louder back to her, "Debris, darling? What do you mean debris." He gestures wildly with a hand. "Look around you. We have nothing but debris. We're only still standing out of stubbornness. Lived on the side of this mountain since the first Pass," may be an exaggeration, "and nothing's going to knock us off now." Dee's mouth opens to speak to the woman, but her words are curtailed by Nasci's distraction in the form of her daughter. The candidate's wide hazel eyes hook onto the child as her mother scoops her up, and she has a small smile as the pair return. "Okay, Nasci," the young woman's tone is accepting of everything. "We'll hope that the holder and Weyrwoman Lilah are able to work something out about the seeds. In the meantime, we have to even out the beds and re-till the soil to get them ready to receive any kind of seed," she advises, looking down to the work the woman was already engaged in. "Looks like you're on the right track," is complimented. Normally, Dee might yield to the woman by grace of older age, but here she has some measure of expertise, this much an apprentice knows and can do. Casseny soft, listening mmhm sounds appreciative for Pak's sentiment. Used to those familiar with her cadence, she missed a beat. Caught up now, the apprentice amply uses the older man's occupation with talking to deftly clean the wound. Now working, she's a cool rhythm that belies her age. The clear intelligence in her eyes lends to the facade, even as she and her patient stagger over a misunderstanding. "Is that what caused this?" she queries, posing it as a follow-up rather than a more offensive correction. Serious enough-- enough so it's difficult to distinguish, at first, when she's switched to likely humor: "Or would that be the self-diagnosed stubbornness?" Tovriath and G'vri might be late to the party, but they come bearing gifts in the form of a few more warm bodies to help with the clean up efforts. G'vri's younger brother is among the boys dismounting the large bronze, but he sets off to do his duty rather than bothering with his brother. Once his passengers are well clear, Tovriath takes his leave to settle elsewhere, leaving G'vri to look less certain about what he ought to be doing now. "Thank you," breathes Nasci in genuine acceptance of the younger woman's compliment, readjusting Natlie on her hip as the young toddler wiggles about trying to escape from her mother's grip. "We only just were able to get started. Everything was unstable, for a while, and we weren't sure if there'd be more landslides. So-- That is why I haven't gotten so far." Since we're going to assume G'vri is nearby, once the young holder woman has finally set Natlie down to free her own hands, the toddler takes off on a sprint, practically, in the rider's direction, causing Nasci to flush and shoot an apologetic look to Dee. The rhythm is likely not so smooth as the old man bats at hands as soon as she applies the first thing, telling her, "Ack, warn a man, won't you. I'm not a young thing anymore. You could give me a heart attack." But, he'll continue to explain to her question, "Got a rock, I think. Was trying to get the herdbeasts sheltered." Body, check. Warm, check. Isidro's dismount from Tovriath is uncertain, but graceful enough not to wind up planting himself face-first in the dirt. Or rocks, as the case may be. Get up, dust off, pretend it never happened--check. Isidro has arrived. Next step: off to the closest people who look like they have any idea what's going on, here. He doesn't sidestep the little girl barrelling past, though--might as well reach to snag her as he goes. Dee's brow is crinkling bit by bit more and more into an expression that belies her sunny smile. "It just means the work will be lighter since there are more hands now to do it," she offers as though it were easy. "The stores... is it just the seed you're needing?" Perhaps that's even something she could personally help. Perhaps. Then she's whirling as the toddler takes off, blinking. It's obvious she's unused to time spent with the very young for she's still some moments before looking to the mother as if to say 'do I need to-?' and a slight flutter of a hand at her side must mean follow. If the toddler's sprint isn't enough, perhaps her call of, "G'vri!" and then almost awkwardly, "Sir!" with a hand gesturing to the child - a little help? Even as she calls, Isidro is on it and she only looks back to Nasci. Casseny levels her eyes briefly at Pak without a singular emotion betrayed in the look; as it is, she loses little to no time dressing the cleaned gash. Finicky patients were not invented in Lux's Ledge. "Okay," is the professionally warm acknowledgment to his explanation. Keen blue eyes have narrowed thoughtfully in listening, and she's quiet for a second of good work before picking the line back up, "And now. Any dizziness? Nausea?" Right hand stays at the wound, finishing up, as her left drifts a little around Pak's head, massaging with gentle--careful-- purpose for less obvious afflictions, any misshapenness in the head by bruise or bump. Her eyes jump away momentarily as names are shouted and, another, closer, barks in less words and more pain. G'vri lifts a hand to acknowledge the girl calling his name, his typical grin as much for Dee as for the even smaller girl that Isidro is trying to snag. The bronzerider moves toward the latter with a playful, "Hey, there, little darling." This is probably meant for the girl and not Isidro. At least until he adds, "Want me to take her? Looks like they can use some help over there," he says with a nod in the direction of Nasci and Dee. "Suppose playing nanny could be helpful, too," is teased just a touch more privately to the slighter man. Natlie squeals with delight as she's snagged by the young man, no fear of the stranger or of the bronzerider as he comes close. She does remain oblivious to the way her mother cracks even as the daughter laughs, tears spilling over at Dee's innocent question. "No, it's-- everything. Everything was in the stores and it all got buried. We'll have to dig out what we can, but we won't have any heat for winter or clothes, even our winter blankets and--," Nasci answers, her fingers rubbing over the paths of tears without energy to go get her daughter. Surely this is enticing for the men to join. "I'm fine. Just don't heal as fast, anymore," Pak answers of the questions easily, shaking his head. His gaze is drawn to the running Natlie, too, but he only huffs out a breath of a laugh for the girl's antics who must be related to him in some way. But his attention returns to the apprentice to ask, "Is the journeyman going to sew me up, now? I have work to do." Isidro gives the little girl a broad smile and a boop on the nose, but he has no problem whatsoever passing her off to G'vri. "Good," cheerily, "then you obviously won't mind doing it." And let's be honest, G'vri will probably have an easier time with an armful of toddler than Isidro will. He does this while headed over in the direction of the girl's mother, though, and Dee. His face sobers, once he gets a better look at Nasci. "Where can we help?" It's an instinctive move that has Dee distracted from G'vri, Isidro and the wee Natlie. It's her instinct to reach for this woman who she's never met before but who weeps now, to seek to put a comforting arm around her shoulders as if they might be friends (if not particularly old or good ones). Shared joy is twice joy, shared sorrow is half sorrow. "I'm sure--" Dee starts, whether the arm has been permitted or not, only she comes up short, chewing her lower lip, "It will come right somehow," somehow, she hopes. Her swallow is hard and an unconscious look of concern goes to where the redheaded goldrider disappeared, her hazel gaze sliding with growing worry over the work Casseny and her journeyman do before coming back to Nasci and then to Isidro as he approaches. "We have to flatten the beds, remove the excess dirt, and then re-till them to make them hospitable for seed." She bites her lip again suddenly, "Seed that they don't have," is quieter, a hushed exhale, but there to be heard by keen ears. Casseny's absorbing gaze digs out each detail of Pak's answer, not in what he says but inflection and his easy headshake-- the aftermath. Lack of sluggishness. Her staring lingers afterward without losing confidence. The third second is devoted solely to her periphery and the body language projected by Nasci, made more attractive to an eye seeking interest by Isidro's approach. Pak's question sufficiently puts his healer's focus squarely back on him. Sliding her weight back, a slight rest on the table they work at, Cass retrieves from its protective packaging the curved needle and holder for stitching flesh. "Even better," she expresses with utmost confidence, preparing the tool not entirely within Pak's sight. "I can do that for you now. Save you some time." If she expects resistance from the gentleman, she's prepared to handle it as skillfully as the warm jiggle that is stitching into the living. This time, she gives him a short warning before promptly quizzing him on Natlie's behaviors-- and so it will go. G'vri takes the girl, lifting her up over his head with a grin before settling her against his side like he's done this a hundred times before. He makes his way toward the girl's mother in Isidro's wake, only catching some of what Dee says to the other man. "We'll do whatever we can, ma'am," he says to Nasci. "Do you want this little thing back? I'm happy to watch her for awhile if you need it." He might regret that in ten minutes, but for now he's more concerned with making the woman who was crying feel better. "Somehow," Nasci will agree with a shaky smile, an attempt made to reassure Dee even as the younger woman attempts to reassure her. But the young mother has certainly drawn herself up with as much of a will as she can as the bronzerider approaches, only coincidentally as Isidro does, flushing slightly. "No, I can-- Thank you, so much. She has been locked up indoors for too many days. It won't be long." At that, she looks to Dee for her opinion, and then Isidro, with a thankful look to the young man's offer. It's almost the sort of seeding of spirit that Dee might hope will happen with actual seeds in the garden here, soon. Nasci's reassurance is met with a strengthening of her own and her arm drops away. She considers the garden. "I'm no expert, really," an apprentice only, "but I expect with some hands it'll only take the afternoon." There's a pause and she looks toward G'vri, "Mayhaps you'd like to play with your daughter, Nasci? I bet between Bronzerider G'vri and --" she gestures to Isidro for lack of a name, "and myself and--" She squints to where other volunteers are not yet organized, raising her voice to summon them with an encouraging wave of her hand (though her success is varied). She looks back to the woman, "I bet we can have it done today for you." It might be Dee's not entirely subtle way of saying Nasci has probably earned a few hours off from the hard work of the day. "Somehow," an echo, only not quite. "Thought I was done with this sort of thing. Though I'd always thought of it as spring work." And, Isidro being all soft hands and all, one could probably insert "for someone else" at the end of that sentence, but he has the grace to not say it aloud. "Isidro," he inserts by way of introduction, for both Dee's benefit and Nasci's. "I've never paid much attention to how long such things take, but--there does seem to be plenty of help and my grandmother used to say something about many hands making short work." It's almost the sort of seeding of spirit that Dee might hope will happen with actual seeds in the garden here, soon. Nasci's reassurance is met with a strengthening of her own and her arm drops away. She considers the garden. "I'm no expert, really," an apprentice only, "but I expect with some hands it'll only take the afternoon." She turns her head to Isidro and flashes him an echo of a smile, softer and smaller than the usual of her full force one. "There are heartier squashes that grow in winter. A few other things that might help them," she offers as explanation. "Dee," is added quickly before she looks toward G'vri, "Mayhaps you'd like to play with your daughter, Nasci? I bet between Bronzerider G'vri and --" she gestures to Isidro for lack of a name, "and myself and--" She squints to where other volunteers are not yet organized, raising her voice to summon them with an encouraging wave of her hand (though her success is varied). She looks back to the woman, "I bet we can have it done today for you." It might be Dee's not entirely subtle way of saying Nasci has probably earned a few hours off from the hard work of the day. If nothing else, G'vri can yell for his brother to get over here and offer a hand, too. As is appropriate, he lets Nasci decide whether she'd rather work or play with her daughter and he's eager to get to work on whichever one she doesn't choose. "We've got lots of hands," he agrees with the other two. "And you'll have witnesses to say you got your hands dirty once, Sid. If that's not a good reason to help, I don't know what is." Whatever Nasci's decision is is lost in the rumble of the mountain, felt throughout the tremors that are enough to throw people off their feet. And not so far away from them, where those holders are clearing and trying to rebuild their herdbeast pens, a wave of mud and rocks slides so quickly down over that side of the mountain with little warning. |
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