Logs:Non-Weyrling in the Training Cavern
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| RL Date: 9 June, 2009 |
| Who: A'son, Ajatha, Yori |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'son gets smelly stuff on him and encounters Yori saying her good-byes to Ajatha. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern |
| When: Day 20, Month 12, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#392RJLs) All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there. What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable.
Two women, a Weyrling and a woman wearing the knot of a trader, stand near the exit to the Weyrling caverns. Ajatha's Rasiyoth stands quite near, as if eavesdropping on the conversation. It is Yori who speaks, in a mild alto, slight protest, "Nay. -No-." Evidently Yori's working on her accent, trying to clean it up, like her brother has. "No. That wasn't the point. The point was... More the point you were tryin'...Trying. To make. When we spoke. I don't know that it'd have ever been feelin' right," she murmurs. "But it kind of did, and it did, and I thought, figured that my uncle wouldn't be able to be matchmaking so much, either. It's a benefit. Free with the purchase of," she shrugs again, slight curl to her lips. "And he's gorgeous, Ajatha. You're so lucky. I wish Lest had Impressed as well. But... Ilora says sometimes it takes a couple times. I hope he tries again. And I'll be back for that, if I can. I'stark, he said he'll bring me back...If," Yori drops her voice again, "If what he's sayin'....Saying...Can be believed. I wish... I wasn't so suspicious. It's my nature, you know?"
A'son emerges (like a wrathful god!) from the weyrling barracks. He's an odor to him as if he's been rolling around in something disgusting and he certainly doesn't look pleased about it. The bronzerider is on a direct route to the exit, hopefully to take a bath. Of course as he's approaching he notices Ajatha, she gets a dutiful nod of his head. But then there's Yori and he stops to look at her, blinking almost owlishly. His gaze scans her face, her body, her shoulder. Eyes finally landing on the knot he seems to have difficulty placing just exactly who she is and where she's from. She'll laugh, the pale blond trader woman, and shake her head, hand automatically reaching so that fingers find where swatch of her hair has been shorn. "I'm thinkin'...Thinking... I think he'll keep his word. If he doesn't, then I'm better off without him, because he's not who I think he is." Another smile quirks her lips, as Yori tilts her head down slightly, lets the loose hair half-hide her features, "I'm pretty sure... That he's going to be... Who I think he is. That make sense, Ajatha?" Yori turns attention and eyes back to the Weyrling, ranges her study over the dragon, and then looks back at the human. It's the fellow that stops, though, that catches the attention of Yori, courtesy of the corner of her eye. Blue gaze meets brown, hits the knot, and then jitters back to Ajatha. Busted. "Don't think," she mutters, sotto breath to her friend, "I'm supposed to be in here. Ajatha. Fare thee well." Yori's hand slides forward to catch the other's, if allowed, to give it a light squeeze. And toward the AWLM, Yori will incline her head, just briefly. "Just leavin', sor. Apologies." Ajatha has her back toward the door of the barracks and really seems to not be paying attention to the bodies that go forward and back through it, since most just seem to be the weyrlings and some of the weyrlingmasters. "Of course it does, Yori." Females seems to make sense of what others might not get, so it better make sense." When there seems to be a foul odor wafting past, she scrunches her nose most disgustedly. "Eeh, Iszy, you stink. Did Raith overturn an oil bucket and you rolled in it or something?" Assuming is a nasty thing, especially when she's not turning to look who it is. Until. The look flees when she notes the source of the stench is a weyrlingmaster. "Uh." Eloquent. A half-lazy salute grants to A'son, but her eyes pass between the pair. "Sir, Yori, trader. She's leaving for Ista. Just sayin' g'bye." "Not 'Iszy' sorry." A'son offers to the weyrling, looking more amused with her than he is about the odor emanating from his body. His eyes drop away from Yori and he begins to look at his arms as if he's trying to figure something out. "What? Oh." Then it's back to the two girls and he's looking between them and seeming quite puzzled. "Why on earth would anyone want to go to Ista?" He begins to wave one of his smell hands around. "Say good-bye all you want. Don't have to run out. Just... don't knock anything over and get me in trouble." Dark eyes glance over his shoulder, as if there might be some superior just lurking there. Appreciating Ajatha's quick introduction, and explanation for her likely illegal presence here, Yori slants a wary look over at A'son and studies him long and well. Finally, "Thank you, sir." Slower speech, cleaner pronounciation this time. "What... Did you get into?" She's noticed the odor, as well, but lives the outdoor life as a rule, so isn't quite as overwhelmed. "And I was invited to Ista." She shrugs, "My brother was here, Stood for the Hatching, but he didn't Impress. He wants to stay here. I... Think it's about time I strike out." That her uncle is actively trying to use the lovely young woman as a bargaining chip in a possible marriage to some minor holder and that her family wagons are yet camped near High Reaches Weyr, weighs in this choice, "Traders," she adds, "Don't stay in one place long, or they aren't stayin'...Staying... Traders." "Z'yi. Isziyo," Ajatha supplies, likely needlessly, but she doesn't seem to mind. "He's usually getting into trouble lately, thanks to that crazy blue of his. What in the /name/ of Faranth did you do? You reek." And that's putting it bluntly. "Yori's Ulestien's sister. I forget who - Wait, wasn't it you that searched him? Hey, what's wrong with Ista?" Her mouth turns downward into a small frown at that, though she busies her hands with scritching an eyeridge that presses close into her palm. "Wanderlust. A hazard of the trade, I hear from some." "There was this bucket of meat scraps. I guess no one took it out. I got some of the clear gross liquid that's on the top? On me. Somewhere. Smells putrid." A'son is again looking at his arms, now his hands and finally eyeballing his pants. He repeats, "Somewhere." Since he knows nothing of Yori's backstory he can only ask (and his opinion is heavily biased), "Why the hell would you say yes? And what's wrong with it?" He asks, eyes wide with surprise. "What -isn't- wrong with it? It's full of bugs, it smells when it's wet, it's /wet/ which is a whole other problem. The people are crazy, the women are really crazy. Current company excluded. Did I mention there are -bugs-. Man eating bugs." A familiar name gets mentioned and he's then looking closely at Yori. "Ulestien? /Lester/." The lightbulb goes on over his head. "Right. I don't see the resemblence." "Bred into us, aye," Yori smiles at Ajatha. "That wanderlust. Traders and Harpers, I think. And there's a lot of Harpers, traderin'. TraderING." She sighs, annoyed at her own diction, before turning cool blue regard over to A'son, with interest. "You Searched my brother? That he was Searched... Does that mean, he could Impress, sometime? That your dragon, he's thinkin' that there might... Thinking. That there might. Be a dragon for him. Lest," Yori sidelines to Ajatha, "He studied at Harper Hall. I think they beat the accent out of him." A'son's diatribe is met with that quirking interest. "Bugs." Single word, dropped quietly in a warm alto that just might be spiced with amusement. "Are there bugs at Ista, then?" She sends another glance toward Ajatha, toward the brown dragon, and no doubt the silent question is asked: Is this man normally this passionate... About bugs? Ajatha absolutely wrinkles her nose and gives a sudden, frame-wracking shudder. "No wonder you smell like a dead herdbeast. You must have sat in it. I bet Raith kicked it under Whit's cot." Funny, it seems always to be Raith at the heart of her senarios, because, knowing Raith.. "Harper Hall? That figures. He spoke much too well not to be. -- There -are- some good points about it, you know. It's /warm/. It's /bright/. It's a /paradise/." Like, duh. At least he excluded her from insanity. "Bugs, maybe. Only if you let yourself get creepy-crawled on." Jathi shakes her head simply at Yori: I don't /know/. But he's obviously nuts. "Yes man-eating bugs. Bugs that suck all the juices right out of your veins. And others that munch on your skin and give you rashes. And it's not just about letting them crawl on you. They get in where you /sleep/. Things eating me alive isn't my idea of paradise." He concludes. And then, "Thanks for the memo. I smell like something dead. Tell me something I don't know?" One of his rancid smelling arms goes towards her face. "It's got overtones of something else though..." While he's harassing Ajatha the weyrling he refocuses on Yori again. "Nikoth searches people he think has a shot out on the sands. Doesn't mean there's a dragon for them there are in a subsequent clutch. It's not an exact science, searching." Yori steps back exactly two paces, from the outslung hand, and a bit nearer the fresh air of the cavern entrance. Her brows both arch up, darker against the pale of her skin. "Perhaps you'd want to go to the lake, sir? That can't be good... Dryin'...Drying. On you." She swallows, even, as if to work back down the bile that creeps up her throat at the sudden nearness of the source of the odor. To his explanation, Yori does nod, "I was just hopin', for him. He was disappointed, but alright." Yori's considerations drift back to Ajatha, "Were you eaten by bugs, Ajatha? At Ista?" Her fingers again find the shorn spot in her hair, absently, as she looks back at dragonrider. "Not to be challengin..g, your words, sir. Just wondering. How long... Were you there, at Ista Weyr?" "Almost four horrible, long turns. Two of them as Weyrleader. I don't recommand it. I tried to stay drunk a lot towards the end. I didn't mind the weather as much then or the bugs. But I was unconscious too." They made this person part of the weyrlingmaster staff? How frightening, maybe they were short on people? He pinwheels his arms around some more, just in case Ajatha hasn't gotten enough of the smell. "Smell like what?" He asks, eyebrows arching up questioningly. "I'm not going to go swim in the lake now. It's freezing out, are you kidding me? I'd freeze to death, not a chance. No way, no how." "So I'm wondering, Weyrlingmaster," Yori murmurs, evidently amused by the bronzerider, "If Ista is so bad, what recommends High Reaches Weyr? ... Other than it's not being Ista?" And other than a stranger's being able to suggest that an Assistant Weyrlingmaster go jump in a lake, without obvious reprocussions. To the net suggestion, Yori nods. "I'm not sure how Ilora's weyr is outfitted, but I'll be stayin' there. Staying." Emphasis, again, on the 'ing'. Two more steps back, toward the exit, when A'son starts waving his stench around. "Two turns as Weyrleader? Four turns, total, and drunk." All those points are repeated, point for point, before Yori nods again and sends yet another Look toward Ajatha. Yes. He's Nuts. "You're not going into the baths, stinkin' like that, are you?" Yori then returns that kohl-lined study to A'son. "You'll make bitter enemies for life, I'm thinkin'. Thinking." Ajatha rather looks like she's thinking that making enemies for life is exactly what A'son's good at. At least, that's the look she's getting to give to Yori. "Nothing wrong swimming in the lake. Though it's likely frozen over in some places now. Baths see worse, I'm sure. And y'gotta keep the laundresses in clothes to wash, remember. Though, with a Weyr, there's not a real reason for there to be a lack of them. Like.. you've been rolling in it, like a canine, marking his territory. And if those barracks smell like you've done something like a canine.. Agh, I'm -- not even going to think about that." "High Reaches is my /home/. I was born here and I plan on fucking dying here too." And a dirty mouth, the good qualities just keeping on coming. "That's exactly where I'm going. The smell will eventually fade away and out. What with all the soap and stuff in there." At Ajatha's complaints over his smell, he rolls his shoulders. "I wouldn't be spilling rotten anything all over myself if it wasn't for a lazy weyrling. Sooo... Maybe you should consider it good fortune that I'm just making your space smell instead of asking Meara if you guys can scrub the place down?" "Nothing wrong with swimming in the lake," Yori echos Ajatha with a nod. "If you're headin' into... Heading into... The baths, you should be sending," deliberately spoken, "Someone in to warn everyone in there." Again, a smile plays about Yori's lips, as she looks at the bronzer. She tries not to laugh. At A'son's continued rant, Yori has to clear her throat and reassemble, with some effort, her expression as she asks, "Was that," Yori murmurs with arid tones, "Fucking -and- dying, here, or do you range your... Fucking elsewhere...Everywhere I suppose, except Ista Weyr? The dying... You also planning on any particular method, sir?" And she'll raise her hands, at the suggestion that someone be scrubbing anything. Not me! Not Weyrling! "Ajatha," Yori mutters, "I was hoping you'd help me with...A letter I have to write." How bad of a lie was that...? Her gaze creeps back toward A'son. "One would think you already did die here," comes a grumble, though that was from one of the other weyrlings passing by, some other bluerider or something, though he's gone in an instant, the identity forever unknown. Ajatha shoots a dirty look after them and absently scrubs a hand over Rasiyoth's head with a lasy shushing at whatever he's saying to her in her mind. She thankfullly says nothing at all to Yori's dark questions, coughing into her fist. "A letter?" A brow quirks, but her teeth flash, a wide smile of white, straight teeth. "Of course, Yori." A'son stares at Yori darkly for a moment before he takes a breath and huffs out, "Alright, alright. You, don't belong in here to begin with. And you-" A'son looks at Ajatha. "I have no idea what you're supposed to be doing. But whatever it is, do that. Find out who left the spoiled meat out while you're at it." Then he's stomping out the doors to the bowl, not actually bothering to wait to see if either of the girl's is doing as he's instructed. Yori waits until the man steps away, and then she curls over in a quick laugh, shared with Ajatha. But she's not going to defy the AWLM. "Yes sir." That, with a lift and drop of her hand toward Ajatha, "Ajatha. Come see me at Ista, when you can. And good luck. Congratulations." Exhaling, with that, and giving a quick nod to the Weyrling, Yori will take a few steps away, backwards, before she'll turn and head on out the way she'd come. "I need to go air out my clothes now," Ajatha returns to Yori when A'son's sure to be gone and reaches to touch Yori's arm. "I'll come out when I can. I have friends out there all the more now, y'know.. Take care of yourself. Mind the boys hitting on you." Parting advise given, she touches Rasiyoth's hide and gives him a nudge. "No, we're not going outside. Stop being so paranoid. No one's going to thump you with the icky white stuff." |
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