Logs:Lilah's Sister
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| RL Date: 9 May, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Paislie |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Paislie is intimidated by the Weyrwoman. |
| Where: Commons Cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Thunderstorms |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Nehmet/Mentions |
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Spacious but not as large as the Living Cavern, the Commons serves as a
communal gathering space for the Weyr's residents. A collection of tables
and chairs are arranged around the cavern, with some tall stools tucked
under a counter carved into the eastern wall. A motley collection of
braided rugs in Fort colors are spaced through out the cavern to delineate
the arrangements of seating, while several large hangings blunt the chill
of the stone walls. Niches carved up near the cavern's ceiling hold
regularly spaced glows that are kept fresh weekly while a fire is left
perpetually lit in the hearth regardless of season, providing both warmth
and additional light. Before this hearth is arranged a large, leather sofa
and a pair of matching armchairs. Many residents settle here to work,
study, or socialize at different times of the day, though it tends to be
most active in the early evening.
The Commons also serves as a hub to reach other parts of the Weyr: the
Nursery is located across from entrance to the Resident's Quarters and the
corridor to the Workrooms, with the Lavatory situated between the two. The
Candidates' Barracks and the Classroom bracket the archway leading back
out to the Inner Caverns. Afternoon thunderstorms have kept more people in the caverns than usual, making those who are usually here a little more cramped. Fortunately lunch time keeps quite a few of those people in the living caverns while Paislie is left, one of a handful, to her own devices in the commons. She's sitting in one of the arm chairs in front of the hearth, a bag at her feet with a jar of lotion balanced on one of her thighs while she rubs it meticulously into her dry hands. Given the recent storm that just didn't seem to want to end and all the damage it caused, even a slightly more manageable bout of thunder and lightning has managed to set many on edge, the Weyrwoman among them. From the direction of the nursery, she leads by the hand a young boy who can't be much older than five turns, his features similar enough to hers to mark him as her son, and begins to guide him towards the hearth and a large chair opposite Paislie. When she reaches her chosen seat, she pulls him into her lap and just holds him, while he burrows in at her side. A brief once-over of Paislie prompts, "You're the one they're calling Lilah's sister." No other greeting. Little attention is paid the woman and boy who sit across from her as Paislie gazes, lost in thought, at the fire in the hearth. It's not until Hattie speaks that her attention snaps back to the present with a start and she's looking at the Weyrwoman with wide-eyed uncertainty, bordering on embarrassment. A timid smile of flickers over her expression, glancing at the boy more than the woman. "Yes, ma'am. Paislie." The name is a suggestion more than anything. This probably isn't the first time she's been referred to as Lilah's sister. "Hattie," the goldrider supplies, perhaps needlessly. "Elaruth's. This is Nehmet." Hattie briefly tips her head towards her son as she wraps her arms around him more securely, seeking as much comfort from the contact as she offers. "Well met, Paislie." Manners are maintained, though there's a wary edge to her response, as she continues to watch the young woman across from her. "...Are we to expect any more of your family?" It /sounds/ like an idle enquiry, yet the intensity of her focus belies the lightness of the question. The smile Paislie has for the boy is less timid and more genuine. "Hello," she says kindly, but her focus doesn't linger on him for too long. "And you," is returned to the Weyrwoman, glancing up at Hattie's face before her hazel eyes fall down to the jar. "I don't think so, ma'am," is her only answer to that question while she puts the lid in place and leans down to settle the lotion in her bag. "Probably not even to visit," she'll allow with just a hint of melancholy, drawing up one foot to tuck under her other leg. "I'm sure that we could arrange transportation if you wish to visit them," Hattie supplies just a little too quickly, though her voice remains even throughout that seemingly well-intentioned offer. "At least one wing per day is assigned to transport, if you ever find yourself wishing to ask." She tilts her head a little, then, in a lower voice, adds, "I would suggest asking your sister, but..." She leaves off there, adding no explanation, and adds only, "She's busy," a few moments later, a touch flatly. "No, no," returns Paislie, also a little quickly, eyes jumping back to Hattie. She's still trying to smile, but it's strained. "That won't be necessary. I don't foresee myself needing a ride anywhere anytime in the near future. But I won't distract Lilah, ma'am, I can assure you." Whether she's misunderstanding the implications there, the younger redhead seems sincere about it anyway. "My concern isn't that you will or are going to distract her." Hattie could probably sound more reassuring about that, but she simply states it like a fact, cool-edged, then ducks her head down to rest it atop Nehmet's for a little while. "Anyway," she says eventually, "you'll forgive me if I don't keep track of who traipses in and out of her weyr, so I'm not certain whether you're staying with her. If you'd like your own room, that can be arranged. You'd probably have to share, but not with more than one or two others." Paislie shifts somewhat uncomfortably in her chair, glancing down at the hands in her lap as she picks at one nail with the other. She doesn't look up when she says, "I'm not staying in Lilah's weyr, ma'am. I have a room. And I've been working where I'm needed for my keep." She doesn't sound defensive, exactly. It's more earnest, if uncertainly so. "I'm glad that Shevena's arranged that, in that case." Not that Hattie /does/ sound terribly glad about it, but she continues to maintain that much of her manners. "I'm a little surprised that she hasn't roped you into working at Dice, though I'm not sure that it's the first place I'd want any of my sisters working." The corner of her mouth twitches in what's not really a smile. "But I imagine at least one of them would have a fantastic time there." The Weyrwoman shrugs one shoulder. "Is there anything you need that hasn't already been arranged?" Another smile pulls at Paislie's lips, not anymore sure now than she has been since Hattie first acknowledged her. "She-- well, I don't think I'd like working there very much. Too many..." she trails off, glancing at the boy and then back down at her hands before shaking her head. "I don't think I need anything, ma'am. But thank you." After a beat, though, she asks, "Will the eggs be clutched soon? Is it very hard to get Searched for them?" Hattie's gaze goes a little distant, like she could be checking on an answer about the eggs, but she surely can't be requesting a timeframe, despite replying, "Within the next few days, I expect," more gently than before. "Any day, really. Elaruth's certainly more interested in the Sands than she was a while ago." The boy in her arms looks up at mention of the gold, but he doesn't do more than stare up at his mother. "...If you truly want to Stand for her clutch... I suggest you think it through and make sure that you understand what it would mean. Then, if you're sure... you come and ask me. Fair?" The more gentle words are enough to make Paislie's smile a little less skittish. She nods along as Hattie explains the dragon's interest in the sands, and then for her suggestion. "I'll think about it. Thank you, ma'am. Only." There's another pause here. She catches her lip between her teeth thoughtfully, then asks, "It would only mean possibly Impressing, wouldn't it?" Hattie delivers a shallow nod in response. "Possibly Impressing, and being chosen by someone who will accept you unconditionally, but someone you might not be able to accept so immediately and without reservation. And once it's done... it can't be undone." She glances down at Nehmet as she says, "There's more to being a rider than Impressing." He listens, rapt, regardless of the fact that he's too young to grasp exactly what she means. "I would never want Elaruth to have chosen someone else, and I'm sure most riders would tell you the same of their dragons, but I think they'd also tell you it's not always easy." Paislie listens. Whatever confidence she might have gained in the idea is trembling again as she nods. "Of course not, ma'am. I don't expect it to be easy. But even if it's harder than anything I've ever done before," and she sounds doubtful that it would be, "it would be better than going home." Again her hazel eyes settle on the boy. "Is he your oldest?" "They are worth it," Hattie declares without a trace of doubt. "What hardships there are... no matter what you think at the time... they're worth it." Her focus absents itself for another few moments, and when it returns she's moving to get to her feet, Nehmet scrambling from the chair with her. "My youngest," she says fondly, reaching to secure his hand in hers. "My eldest is apprenticed to the Starsmiths." Pride there, but that same, warmer tone. She hesitates before excusing herself, pausing to request, "...Do me a favour? If any of your family visit... let me know?" There's a mild fondness in Paislie's expression when Hattie talks about dragons the way that she does. And it's still there when she speaks of her children. She smiles more openly, enough to deepen her dimples, empathetic of that pride, but it's the last question that really pulls her to focus and she glances up at the Weyrwoman. "Of course, ma'am." If Paislie seems just a little relieved by that thought, it could just be that the intimidating woman will be taking her leave soon. "Thank you." Just as she offered no proper greeting, Hattie doesn't supply a farewell, though she does give another nod that could serve as one. "Come on, sweetheart," she murmurs to her son as they move off. "Let's go and see what's happening in the kitchen while we wait for the rain to stop." And the thunder. And the lightning. Their progress across the commons is quick and, soon, they're out of sight. |
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