Logs:Making A Friend
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| RL Date: 26 September, 2008 |
| Who: Fiorella, Lorne |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two young girls become friends. |
| Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 11, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: T'rev/Mentions |
The interior of the living cavern is luxurious, relatively speaking -- the walls are smoothed and there are wall sconces in addition to the myriad array of glow baskets and lamps used to keep the place well lit. It's a large space, suited to handle large numbers of people, with dozens of tables arranged strategically throughout; serving tables are also conveniently located at various intervals. Tapestries hang on the walls, many of them having been there for hundreds of turns and periodically taken down for cleaning and restoration. Up a flight of stairs would be the kitchens, where much of the hustle and bustle can be heard, if not seen. Food is transported down via discretely located dumb waiters and dispersed by servers as necessary, but the aromas of food being prepared is as pervasive as the constant chatter of people as they drift through in search of food, drink, or company. Servers are generally available to assist and ensure that cups are filled and tables are cleaned regularly. To the west is both the main entrance to the bowl and also the night hearth, which is kept stocked with fresh klah and pots of stew. Other hearths are scattered throughout, radiating heat and warmth as well as providing gathering spots for private discussions. To the east, a short flight of stairs leads down to the inner caverns, while a stout wooden door with a purple caduceus to the south leads to the infirmary. An autumn afternoon, and Lorne is still barefoot. She comes bursting in from the bowl in a rush of straw, dust, and flying, tangled hair. Narrowly avoiding the mingling residents and 'riders, Lorne uses her small size and the agility that comes from youth to dodge legs, shoulders, and firelizards. "Sorry!" she calls out as an after thought. She skids to a stop just before a table and dives underneath, ignoring the protests of those who happen to be sitting around it. "Sorry!" she says again, hissing under her breath. Fiorella just happens to be one of those sitting at the table, and being more or less ignored by its other occupants. So the appearance of the older girl underneath said table is draw for her curiosity. "What'd ya do?" she asks softly, in something of an attempt not to draw too much more attention to the 'hiding' place than need be as she slides down off her chair to take a place on the floor beside Lorne. Dodging knees as she crawls down the table, Lorne pauses at the other voice. She glances up, blows a lock of loose hair out of her face, and grins. "Hiding!" she tells her in a hushed, but excited tone. "But, I think I lost him in the bowl, anyways." Out of immediate danger of being kicked, Lorne twists herself around and sits her butt down. Small as she is, she's tall enough now that she must hunch over to keep from cracking her head against the table. "Oof, this was so much easier when I was younger!" As if she wasn't still young. Fiorella nods, ponytail brushing against the back of her neck as she giggles quietly. "Its always easier when you're shorter." she agrees, though she's still not quite to having to duck much yet. "So.. who are we hiding from?" she whispers, that same thrill of excitement finding its way into her voice. Well, she's under the table already, she might as well be hiding too! A dirty hand lifts, and Lorne shoves her stubborn lock of hair back out of her face. The movement knocks her knuckles against the table, and she winces at the small pain. "Oh," she says, grinning once again. "Tergan. Stableboy, like me," except she's a girl. She makes a disgusted sort of noise as she explains, "He thinks he's faster than I am, but I beat him." And yet, she's hiding. "He's bigger, though." Fiorella ohs silently and nods again at the explanation. "Good to know." she whispers back. "I haven't met him yet, but now I know to look out for him if I need to." She grins, wrapping her arms about her knees, she rests her cheek on one so that she's facing the other girl. "So how long are we hiding here?" "He's not scary," insists Lorne, lifting her chin as much as she can without risking another whack of her head on the table. "Just annoying." She chews on her lower lip as she considers the other girl, but she doesn't contest the 'we'. "Um. I don't know," she admits sheepishly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, though I'm not really sure if it was. I mean, what's he gonna do, anyways?" She snorts. "A few minutes, I guess." With another wrinkle of her nose, Lorne looks up as if she could see through the table. "Got any food up there? I'm kinda hungry." "Mostly juice." Fiorella replies with a bob of her head. "But I think there was a meatroll left if no one else ate it." she replies, wiggling herself around to slide back up into the chair she'd been sitting. A moment later the girl slips back down with a small plate in hand which is held out towards Lorne. "Here you go." "Aw, great!" says Lorne, eyes lighting up at the sight of food. She snakes her hand out, snags the meatroll, and tears of a huge chunk of it. She chews quickly, but is smart enough to swallow before she speaks again. She wipes the back of her grimy hand over her mouth, and sighs. "Thanks," she says, tearing off another huge bite and chewing as if she was starving. This time, she doesn't wait to swallow before speaking. "'M Lorne. Who're you?" Fiorella eyes the girl for a moment. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full its not..." she notes, trailing off just a bit to pick up half a second later to answer the question. "I'm Fiorella. You can call me Ella. Though I'm probably not going to be here much longer. I'm just visiting my sisters.. sister, the other one isn't here any more, she got asked to be a candidate at High Reaches. But Berit's probably gonna send me home soon enough." Lorne ignores the chastisement, and just takes another huge bite out of her meatroll, before she's even swallowed the previous one. Her mouth now too full to chew without gnashing her teeth loudly, she can't talk but she can roll her eyes. She swallows twice, loudly and pauses to catch her breath from the effort of so much swift eating. "Berit?" she says in a tone that is both questioning, but also affirmative. She knows the name. "The Weyrwoman? You're her sister?" There's no awe, just surprise, as if the idea that a Weyrwoman would have sisters has startled the girl. "Oh. Who's your other sister, and where're you going?" Fiorella nods. "That's the one." she agrees, though there's perhaps more surprise in her voice that Loren would know who her sister is, than she perhaps should given Berit's position. "The other one's Sunniva. She's older than Berit by a little. I'm the youngest. But like I said, she's probably going to send me home." Breath caught, the last large chunk of meatroll disappears into Lorne's mouth. This time, she does chew and swallow before speaking, if just to avoid another scolding from the younger girl. She swallows. "Oh," she says, momentarily puzzled. She scrubs her hands on the tops of her thighs in a comical attempt to clean them - not gonna happen, with the state of her pants. "Where're you from, then? High Reaches?" Fiorella shakes her head, laughing a bit. "No, we're from Four Sons Hold. Its not very big or anything. Not like Fort." she replies simply enough. "How about you, Lorne?" At the mention of a hold, Lorne wrinkles her nose and grimaces, giving Fiorella a sympathetic look. "Hold, ick. I'm sorry." She shrugs her shoulders, and picks at a stain on her pants. "Why won't she let you stay at the Weyr? She sounds mean." As if seeming to realize that 'she' is also the Weyrwoman, Lorne's eyes go wide, then shifty, and she giggles a little. "Well, I mean... not *mean*..." Oh well. Damage done. "Fort Weyr, born and bred!" she boasts proudly, puffing out her chest and jerking her head up before she remembers the table. Too late, she whacks her head with a dull thunk. "Ow.. Mom's a bluerider here. Been here my whole life." Fiorella shrugs. "She was nice enough before she moved away to be a weaver and got searched and impressed Zibeth." she replies, "I thought she'd be happy to see me, but she just wanted to send me home right away. She didn't say why." The girl winces herself as the other hits her head. "Careful. Maybe we should find somewhere else to sit for awhile..." she suggests. "Wasn't it scary with all the dragons around?" Lorne rubs at her head a little, glowering at the table. "Probably a good idea," she agrees. With a little bit of careful maneuvering, she unwinds her legs and arms and assumes a crawling position once more. "I don't think Tergan is looking for me, we can sit like normal people now." She makes another face. "Well, that's weird," agrees Lorne of Berit's behavior. "Maybe it's a sister thing. I dunno. I don't have any." As for dragons, Lorne wrinkles her nose in confusion. "Scary? Why would they be scary?" Fiorella follows the older girl from under the table, taking up a seat beside her again. "I don't know. They were both acting weird though. So who knows." she replies with another shrug. "Could be. ... I don't know. They're just so big and they're all over. We don't have them like that at Four Sons." A little wiggle, and Lorne surfaces from beneath the table. She earns a few upraised eyebrows, but the riders and residents around the table, after a little smirk, simply ignore her. She plops herself into the nearest empty chair, and sighs. "Phew! Much more comfortable." She grins. "Oh, well, I would hope dragons aren't flyin' around your hold and livin' there! That would be weird," and she makes another face. "But, they're not scary. They are kinda big but, I guess I'm used to it." Fiorella giggles. "Yeah, I guess it would be kinda weird if there were dragons living at the Hold." Not that that's what she meant by any means. "I guess I'm just not as used to them as you are." The girl reaches her hands over her head to stretch a bit now that she's out of the confinement of under the table. "T'rev said that maybe if I have something I'm good at that I could help with she might let me stay. Maybe I could help you in the stables?" Its a thought, mind a random one. Spotting an unattended plate - and an unattended meatroll on it - Lorne's hand whips out, snatches it, and tucks it out of view. A moment of silent pause as she seems to wait for a reaction. None comes, the 'rider being too busy with a conversation to notice his missing food. Lorne grins, and takes a bite. "They're all over the Weyr," she says repetitively. Chew chew. "Oh? He's one of 'em from Telgar, s'right?" She swallows, licks the crumbs off her lip and considers Fiorella with a great deal of consideration. "Maybe," she says in all seriousness. "But, it's hard work. And people complain about the smell a lot. Not afraid of runners, are ya?" Fiorella shrugs. "I'm not sure where he's from." she admits. "I just met him when I got here, and that wasn't all that long ago." she replies haltingly as she watches the other girl's snatching of the meatroll. "Not afraid of them no." she says with a shake of her head. "But I don't know... maybe that's not for me." "S'not for everyone," agrees Lorne, half a meatroll stuffed into her mouth. She slows down a little after swallowing, content to just nibble delicately at the edges. "Well, let's think... what are you good at, and what do you like to do?" Lorne rolls her eyes upwards as she thinks. "Holders do thinks like cook, and clean, right? Do you like that sort of thing? They're always lookin' for more people in the Kitchen." Fiorella nods. "Not cleaning. Cooking is alright sometimes." the girl agrees, crossing her ankles and hooking a foot over the rung of the chair. "I talked about it a little with T'rev and I was thinking I might do that. Help out in the kitchen I mean. And if they're always looking for help like you say, then maybe its a good idea, huh?" "Yeah," decides Lorne, voice full of conviction now. "Make yourself useful, and I'm sure she'll let you stay!" Maybe not, but Lorne's got the unwavering confidence of a pre-teen behind her words. "Might have to wash dishes though," and something about the way she says it seems to imply that dish washing is worse than stable mucking. "But, if you can cook, they'll let you do that. Right?" She's probably never been in the kitchens in her entire life. "Why'd you come to the Weyr?" Fiorella shrugs lightly, "I can wash dishes. I've been doing some with chores while I've been here." she notes, "Maybe I will do that." And the more they talk about it the more sure she seems to be on the decision. "I came to see my sisters. I was tired of being at the hold. It didn't suit me I don't think. And I missed them, so I came here." It make sense to her at least. "But speaking of chores, I should probably be getting to that..." she adds, slipping to her feet. "It was nice meeting you Lorne. Maybe we can be friends if Berit lets me stay." she adds with a bright smile. |
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