Logs:No Trade
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 15 September, 2015 |
| Who: Lycinea, Rh'mis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Sweaters are the sirens' call for two brooders. They share some information but not much. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: lycinea persuasive.jpg, rh'mis solitary.jpg |
| OOC Notes: Don't blink, Rhey. |
  |
>---< Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr(#273RJs) >-------------------------------<
Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen
on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a
wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and
organization of supplies into the various storerooms.
Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two
being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves,
while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and
inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public
stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination
is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items
neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.
Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of
their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept
floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves
providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though
there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from
the niche outside each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky
dark of deep caves.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Lycinea F 19 5'5" slender blonde blue-green 0s
Rh'mis M 21 5'6" scrawny brown blue 7s After dinner isn't exactly the most popular time to be in the stores and yet that is, for some, the only time to do some perusal. The sounds of female discontent come from the section of stores where clothing is kept. Lycinea mutters something unintelligible but displeased as she sets a blue sweater back into the crate that's been tipped off the lowest shelf for her to poke through. Her hair is bound in intricate braids, some dotted with shells or beads in a non-Reachian fashion statement. Her long plum skirt is patched, and her short-sleeved peach blouse far too thin for the weather, all of which together probably explains the on-going search for sweaters. A search not going well. Rh'mis never did graduate from his habit of skulking in stores, even though he now has-- and has had for turns and turns-- a Weyr All Of His Very Own. Then again, maybe even he needs clothes occasionally, for as he attempts to skulk out behind Lycinea, he has a bundle of sweaters of his own to hide behind. Skulk. Skulk. This would work better if he didn't skulk right into a shelf. Some people are privileged enough to know just exactly how (un)homey that Weyr was a couple turns back and might not be surprised to see Rh'mis here looking for the essentials (in a woman's mind). Lya is probably not concerned about being surprised or presently imagining reasons why someone might be in the stores, and might have remained engaged in her own task to the exclusive focus of all else, save for that shelf making that noise. It draws Lya upright from the half-bend, a green sweater in hand now, held by only a floppy arm, and she twists to look at Rh'mis, brows rising in a way that suggests the look is designed to ask what, or just make him feel stupid about the blunder. Before he can get too far, though, she asks, "Would you hold this up for me so I can see what it looks like from further away?" He's not busy, is he? (Un)luckily for Lya, Rhey doesn't really do 'feeling stupid' except in as much as he reacts poorly to everything; he scowls, pulling his foot away from the shelf so that he can shuffle along just a little. "No," he says. No, he won't help. Also, "You're back." It's almost accusatory. Does... that mean he noticed? For Lya, that might be close enough, or perhaps she just doesn't have the extra effort to expend on trying harder. She squints at him a moment, "I am." It comes after that moment, along with, "Have you been using our brooding bench well while I've been away? Haven't let it get lonely, have you?" She moves toward him with the sweater. "Please?" She asks nicely. See how much she's changed? It's a miracle. It is a change, and perhaps it's the lure of that most precious of resources, information, that finally focuses Rhey's resolve. He dumps his own sweaters on the ground and-- reluctantly, oh so reluctantly-- reaches to take Lya's. This sucks. And yet... "Other people keep using it," he tells her, as if this is the worst thing in the world. And, "Where'd you go?" "For brooding or making out? Is it tainted?" It's important information to have. Lycinea seems willing to trade question for question as she steps back to look at the sweater, "To travel the turn out Igen and Ista way. After that whole getting caved in thing, it seemed best to get away for a while." Igen and Ista must have been far enough and the turn she took must have been long enough since she's back now. "Have you done anything interesting while I've been gone? I'm assuming you haven't lost any body parts," there's a very slight hint of a smirk-smile here, something that imparts a willingness to share the levity if he's able to look back on that time now and be amused. The look Rhey gives Lya is difficult to actually decipher; it could be that he's horrified by the very idea of making out... or maybe it's just that she should know the answer to that already. Or something else. "Isn't Igen where they... had that issue?" He knows full well that Igen is where the leprosy happened, of course. "Ought to be scared of you." "Gross," is indication of how she chooses to interpret that response. "Yes, but I never saw one," Lya answers with an affected sigh. "You're probably right though. I'm quite formidable now." She informs him of this fact deadpan. "I might even be the sort of girl to lure a boy out to the brooding bench with promises of making out only to brood instead." Bait and switch, clearly the most dangerous of dangerous recently returned blondes. "So nothing interesting then," she also concludes. "Your dragon still tolerating you? Or have you improved?" It's queried casually as she tilts her head from side to side to look at the sweater, pursing her lips indecisively. "You can't brood with someone else, it doesn't work." Rhey has tried; that's why he has to try and escape Rosvelth on a regular basis. How can you brood with that in your head? "There was never anything to improve. I'm perfect." Beat. "Are you done yet? Why do girls take so long with clothes?" "Can't you?" with a slight lift of a single brow is a subtle challenge. "Perhaps you just need practice when someone or someones else are around. Go out Igen and Ista ways for a turn, give it a go," Lya recommends without any expectation that he could or would. "Even if you were close, saying so just proves it false," the girl decides as she steps forward to reclaim the sweater, "No such thing as perfect," there's a pause that seems unnatural as she squints at him, but there's no more to the sentence in the end. "For some it's that they want to look nice, others to impress someone, and sometimes its just because a person has learned to take a little pride in their appearance. Or maybe I just like detaining you," this last is offhand. "Thank you for your help." Rh'mis releases the sweater, ignoring most of what Lycinea has to say in the process. He ducks to pick up his own sweaters, which probably don't fit him any better than the one he's wearing now. And then, despite the fact that he could so-easily just disappear again, he pauses. "You scared of the ceiling coming down on you?" It's blunt. "Why, going to offer to hold me should a nightmare take me?" Lycinea's step toward him and the batting of her eyes are calculated. Run away, Rhey. "No." Rhey doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Lycinea's no angel, evidently, for she takes another step toward him, "Then why should it matter?" "Information. Everything matters." Rhey still hasn't moved, but there's an obvious tension, now, to his shoulders and to his stance. "To you?" Lya questions with narrowed eyes and a tone of genuine interest. "Or for you?" Is there a difference? She must see one. "To someone." Rhey's lips draw together, as if he's just sucked on a lemon. "Everything's worth something to someone." Lycinea stops her advance, closer now (too close?), and tilts her chin up to look down her nose toward him, speculative in her regard, "And what will you do with your riches when you have them, secret-seller?" Too close, although Rhey seems to be determined not to flinch. "That's my business," he says. The quick shrug and nearly smug press of lips together are girlish, less the young woman with the hint of mystery having traveled so far and seen so much, "And my fears are mine." Nothing without a trade, apparently. Lya turns away with the green sweater, moving to return it to the box and pull out the next for inspection; at least this time, she doesn't seem to expect his help. Released, such as it is, Rhey exhales. He gathers his sweaters closer-- and he goes. No trade. |
Leave A Comment