Logs:Morning Klah
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| RL Date: 9 January, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist gets run over, Edyis drinks jet-fuel, It's pretty much your typical morning. |
| Where: Kitchens |
| When: Day 5, Month 10, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Minor edits for grammar. |
| Dawn breaks, and the kitchens are busy. A'rist navigates them well enough that he must have done this a time or two before, since leaving the barracks; he knows the rhythms, when to move forward, when to stay, and when to go for the pot of klah that the kitchen workers have been using to fill their own mugs. This is the stronger stuff, this is what the weyrling wants. It's the same series of steps, of dodges, of smiles and pleasantries, to get back out - but more careful, so as not to spill his mug. Edyis must have slept in a bit today, that, or she runs everywhere these days, from the headlong rush she makes through the corridor, her satchel thumping uncomfortably as she lopes, darting between a handful of sleepy cavern folk chirping apologies along the way at near misses. She slows down considerably when she reaches the kitchens, but collisions can happen at any speed, and there's a loud eep when she's suddenly face to collarbone with A'rist. 'Eep' is not exactly how A'rist puts it, when his groove is thrown. No, the bronzerider rumbles an instinctive growl, eyes wide and not on Edyis, but rather on trying to prevent more sloshing from that cup, where hot klah is already running down its sides. And his hand. He turns back to her once things have settled, taking a breath, and then easing it out. "Good morning," is perhaps not quite the sentiment he holds in his heart, just now, but it's the one he gives her. Almond-shaped eyes widen considerably, "So sorry, Good morning A'rist." She offers awkwardly. Eyes darting between him, the mug and the line for the klah pot, which is undoubtedly the ultimate goal of her haphazard run, though some might argue the wisdom or necessity of that. "Your up early. Sorry, I should have slowed down sooner." The worse of the heat must be gone by this point, but it's only now that A'rist, taking a slight step back from Edyis, transfers his klah into his other hand. A little shake of the first tries to dispel some of the liquid, though of course, he's like to be sticky now. "Yeah, probably," the weyrling agrees. Dressed in his leathers, he looks to his pants... but he's not going to be wiping klah all over those, no. "We're usually up a little early, these days." Despite cautions for speed she manages to grab her own mug and fill it, before returning her attention to the weyrling, the goal of her venture now gained. a tug at her apron releases the fabric and she offers it to him for his hands, with the hand not clasping her own precious klah. "Here it's ruined anyway, a little klah won't hurt it. How is it going? Weyrlinghood that is." A'rist accepts that apron when it's handed to him, carefully going about wiping at his hand and the sides and bottom of his mug, the little twist of expression for Edyis' filling of her own mug fading from his face. "Going?" The former candidate gets something of a shrug when he holds the apron back to her. "Fine. It's good to have weyrs, I suppose. They're still rotating weyrling wingleaders, but at least we're getting to do things with the real wings now." Clearly, preferred, even in the weight he puts on real. A hasty gulp of klah is downed while she listens intently, if the drink is to hot, she doesn't express such in her features. She settles the apron across her satchel when offered, its splattering of color now added to by the klah stains. "Must be nice to have your own space finally," spoken in something of a wistful tone. "Oh? How are the real wings different from the weyrling wings?" Dark eyes now focused. "Well... they do things. Like, real things, besides just teaching." It makes him frown a little, something in that coming off wrong. "I mean, we need the weyrling wing, and we've got things to learn, but it's not... it's just different levels, that's all." And he shrugs, shoots a glance out into the kitchens go gauge the flow of traffic, and then takes a drink from his mug. "Considering there is no threadfall at the moment, I admit I am a little supprised to hear of the difference. Unless your refering to things like search and rescue or other duties the weyr provides." There is no judgment in the tone, more like detached observation and insatiable curiosity. "Do you feel that you and your Lythronath have reached that level?" A'rist has to take a moment before answering, and when he does so, it's with his best mature look, and a fair tone to his voice. "We have things to work on. Just sometimes it's that they're different things, that's all." More klah, now it's cooled enough to be easily taken. And the weyrling still has places to go. "Interesting." Her own mug is summarily drained, as though life itself depended upon consumption of the liquid. "I probably shouldn't keep you, but if you aren't busy later, I have a few questions about Lythronath's development physically if you don't mind answering them. I'm studying some of the aspects of dragon healing, and I'm curious to know a little more about the growth process." Chances are he's not the only person she'll be pestering with these questions. He just happens to be the first victim she's come across today. A'rist doesn't quite keep that sigh away, though he does lift his mug to shield it, and finish any contents. As it's lowering again, he consents with a nod. "I guess. Tonight's no good," has she seen the weyrlings drilling after hours? he doesn't press, "but tomorrow around the supper hour, if you'd like." And that empty mug? Held out to Edyis, with something like amusement in the young man's eyes. She may be used to the sighs, but there is a huge grin when he agrees. She stares a the cup for a moment, before taking it in hand and moving to refill her own. "You want another?" She asks, "Or just drop it with the dirty dishes?" She seems completely unbothered by either outcome. "No, I'm done with it. Thank you," is where a grin of his own breaks out. "Tomorrow, then. We'll be in the bowl." And A'rist leaves it to her to find him - and to her to agree with the meeting place without him, it seems, because he's already turning to leave. |
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