Logs:Of Berit And Babies
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| RL Date: 12 July, 2008 |
| Who: Paige, Berit |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Paige and Berit are both (un)fortunate enough to pull nursery duty, but at least it gives them time to get to know one another a bit more. Holdbred though both may be, they relate very different stories and perspectives. |
| Where: Nursery, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 1, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
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| Outside the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the Weyr, but within the nursery the atmosphere is less than pleasant. Dinner is hours away and lunch is hours past, and the snacks are not as filling to the children as they would like to believe. There are babies crying, toddlers crawling, and older children screaming in the chaos that fills the Weyr creche. Sitting with her legs crossed, a blonde girl hanging on her neck and a plump dark-eyed baby on her knee, Berit looks like she would rather be somewhere else. Her eyes are glazed over in the usual sign of a daze, her expression blank except for the downward dip at the corners of her mouth. Drool plops down from the ruddy chin of the babe to her woolen, russet skirt, creating a steady puddle about the size of a mark in circumference. Meanwhile the little blonde whimpers near Berit's ear as she stares at two likewise blonde children fighting over a toy. Several other candidates head in to replace the first afternoon shift, expressions varying as they survey the chaos. One marches in to attempt to settle the fight over the toy; another moves over to a screaming child and attempts to placate the blue-eyed boy. Paige doesn't hesitate to scoop up the nearest crying baby, murmuring something to the green-eyed girl and holding her close. Turning her movements into a bit of a sway doesn't really soothe the poor infant much since the nursery is so noisy, but her cries at least start lessening in frequency, though not so much in volume. Berit is given a curious look, a long stare; eventually, the slim girl heads in her direction, settling down next to her with the unease of one who knows of someone without really knowing her. "Y'okay, um ... " And frantically, she searches for a name and comes up with, "Berit, right?" Relief is evident on the weary faces of those who are replaced, envy on those who have to stay, and on Berit's? She continues to look out of it, bouncing the baby up and down so it remains in its tranquil state, one fist shoved in its mouth. Only when her name is spoken does she snap out of her trace-like daze, turning sage-green eyes on the other girl that is familiar only by association. "Mm, yes, and you are Paige, I have heard." Smoothing the thin black hair on top of the infant's head, Berit offers a friendly smile even if her eyes remain tired and dull. "I am just tired, is all. It has been a long day. I think I will rest easy tonight, while this one has refused to close her eyes a wink," she says, patting the bulging stomach underneath the rough-hewn baby gown. "I wonder how they can stay awake when I can barely keep my eyes open." No reference is made to the curly-haired blonde girl, who has taken to hiding her face in the brunette candidate's hair, instantly mistrusting of this new person. "Yeah, " confirms Paige, returning the other candidate's smile. "Sure has been a long one. Y'been in here fer mornin' chores, too?" The baby in her charge flails a little and starts fussing again, eliciting a sigh. "They dun run outta energy, " she comments, shaking her head at two boys chasing each other across the cavern. "Kinda wish I had some of theirs, sometimes. Might be easier t'get more done 'fore meals." As the curly haired child hides her face in Berit's hair, Paige's smile turns a bit sheepish. "Aw, now. Y'dun need t'be 'fraid of me, " she offers gently, but soon has to focus her attention on calming the baby in her arms again, humming something vaguely off-key under her breath. Eventually, she even switches to partially singing quietly, something about gentle breezes, mountains and lullabies. She's not the best singer, but her voice is low, fairly deep for a woman's. "No. I had laundry chores this morning. Simple mending and fixing, and then I came around mid-afternoon to switch out. But I enjoy the mending more. It reminds me of all I did back at the Hall," Berit explains with a nostalgic smile. "I am not so good at all of this manual work. Cleaning stalls, jarring numbweed and redwort, nannying, and washing dragons. The most we ever do at the Hall is clean and cook aside from our craft duties." Her shoulders lift in a dismissive shrug, jostling the little girl's arms and making her reflexively tight them. Slanting a look back, the candidate says softly, "You do not have to hug so tight, Charin. I am not going anywhere." But the arms do not slacken off, causing a sigh from Berit as she situates the chubby baby to the left. "I wish I had their stamina as well. They feel to have an ever-flowing supply, while I drag my feet half the day through." Amusement lifts the corners of her mouth, "There must be a secret to it." "Y'make craft life sound easy, " Paige says after a bit, trying a gentle rocking motion with the green-eyed, fair-haired baby once her lullaby trails off. "Easier'n hold life, at any rate." There's a quick smile, even; it's more of a friendly observation than anything else. "All we ever done growin' up's been manual labor, " she explains, "and helpin' the other hold workers. Got used t'gettin' up early t'help m'father in the stables. Mama insisted I learn all the reg'lar chores, too - the sewin', the cookin', the child-carin'." Grin. "Cleanin', cookin' and sewin' without the stables t'worry 'bout, or the spinnin' wool and preparin' it fer shippin'? Sounds like an easier day, really." Shifting a little, she peeks back down at her little charge, smoothing the pale locks back with a gentle hand. "Y'know, " she adds at length, "maybe if'n we did what they do, we'd learn their secret." She's only kidding, of course! Laying her cheek against the downy-soft hair, Berit listens quietly and aptly, with a light of interest in her green eyes. She lived the Hold life, if the pampered flip of the coin, and this side of things is infinitely more fascinating than sleeping in until noon and sitting at the loom day in, day out. "All the chores? Scullery too? All of these chores must seem routine to you then," is said with a little frown, a puckering of her brow as well. "We do more than that, but it is specialized. During the autumn we harvested flax and wrote essays on the processing. That is what we do at the Hall, instead of mucking stables or helping with the ash pits." At her back, the little girl - going by the name of Charin now - puts a thumb in her mouth as she stares at Paige, refusing to budge from her spot with her arms twined around Berit's neck. "I have a spool." This is a random insertion, but seems to apply to the spinning of wool, as she shifts restlessly where she sits, tucking the side of her skirt under her leg. "Do like they do? Do you mean running around screaming, throwing our food, and picking our noses? You first." Good-humor brightens her eyes, and she tries to hide the grin that breaks the surface, failing in that respect. Paige just nods a few times, a side-glance angling over to the other girl. "Yeah, only diff'rence bein' that they're in a Weyr, " she admits, "and some chores are new. Like a'washin' dragons. Never did tha' at Balen." With as much interest as Berit absorbed her description of hold life, so she takes in the other's elaboration, ducking her head again with a small flush at the mention of essay writing. "Oh. Took wool from the llamas, but I wouldn' call it harvestin'. And didn' write no essays. Least, I couldn'. Not so good at the readin' and writin' - but plenty good at emptyin' them hearths." And she laughs as Berit grins, giving a small shrug. "Y'never know. Might be how they stay so energetic." Jerking her chin toward the rest of the chaos, she adds, "It can only go on so long, at least. Soon they'll either go t'sleep or get somethin' t'eat and then fall asleep. They go in spurts, I reckon." "I think there is more to like if the chores are at a Hold. They are smaller. There is just *so much* to do here," Berit says wistfully, chewing on the side of her mouth as the baby tries to put her other fist in her mouth along with the first. "And things are different, do you notice?" There go her skittish Holdbred values, popping to the forefront with a vengeance. "Sometimes Y'tell lets us apprentices help wash his dragon at the Hall. They are a nice pair, always have a smile and a 'hello', not like some of the grumpy dragonriders to be found around here." She frowns again, trying to pry the balled up fist from the infant's mouth, but her eyes fly back to the other girl as the realization strikes. "You cannot.. read or write? Truly?" In her concern over that, she does not hear the rest, and barely focuses enough on Paige's words to comment on the last. "Perhaps the secret is many naps.. truly? Neither read nor write?" "Perhaps, " Paige offers after a moment of consideration, "but there's almost more of a sense of community here, y'know? What with the fosterin' and all tha'." Public baths foster an entirely different sense of community, but she won't touch /that/ subject anytime soon. "Grumpy dragonriders?" she echoes, frowning a little. "Can' say I've run into too many of those. Maybe jus' a few. M'aunt's got a grumpy wingmate she complains 'bout a lot." Shrugging a little, she just gives an awkard little nod in confirmation. "More or less. Not so great at readin', but can manage a lil. Can' write no good, though, 'sides from m'name. Weren' as important as learnin' the chores and helpin' m'folks, I guess." "I think you mean a great mass of people. Everywhere you go there are more people than necessary, and then, you have to bump shoulders in the lower caverns or if someone has not taken a bath you have to smell them." Her nose wrinkles up in distaste at the reference. "I much prefer the smaller population of Holds and Halls, but.." Berit fidgets, plucking at the folds in her skirt. "..there is something at Weyrs I like, and who knows, maybe I will Impress this time. I just know that I did not want to give up the chance this time, even if the chores, baths, and mannerisms are strange." Drool continues to accumulate on her skirt, perhaps without her notice, and her neck continues to be squeezed. "Have you never met V'delin? I find him a rude sort, and T'aren used to grumpy before his daughter came. I have met a few more, particularly some crude sorts." Again with the lifting and falling of her shoulders, signaling indifference. "So, you do not write letters home? That must be ever so lonely." Just an observation, right? She watches Paige closely, looking for.. something. Paige cuddles the baby a bit closer, rather unaware of the tiny little hands reaching out to clutch and grab at her shirt. "More people, bigger community, " she says simply, giving Berit a curious look. "Y'prefer Holds and Halls, so what's it that draws ya t'the Weyrs?" she has to ask, even as her eyebrows take a subsequent hike. "V'delin? Seems - nice 'nough, I guess. T'aren's nice, but, " she shifts a little, "they all make me kinda uncomfortable, y'know? The riders." Distracted by the fair-headed baby tugging on her shirt, she has to disentangle the tiny hands before continuing. "Oh, I send letters home. M'aunt writes 'em fer me and reads me what they send back." Theoretically, Berit should hate Weyrs! At least, she did before. "I am not too sure what it is. I was a candidate at Telgar Weyr before and I thought I hated it while I was there, I was so homesick. But then when I went back to the Hall, I missed ..it. I did not miss the public baths or the rowdy dragonriders. I think I missed.. no, I cannot lay a finger to it." She releases another sigh, straightening the plain frock on the baby with the eye of a weaver. "In part I have something to prove, and in part, I missed all of this, but do not tell anyone," she says with a finger against her lips, looking furtively around to make sure no one else has eavesdropped on their conversation. Everyone is busy attending to the children in the cavern and are paying little attention to two girls sitting on the floor with two chubby babies. "They *should* make you wary." Yet she does not explain why, leaving it at that. "Would you like to learn, still? It is one of my very best skills, besides talking." More candidates come in, probably to relieve the next shift, and Berit tries to untangle the arms around her neck. "I think it is time for a break. Will you think about it, though?" "Maybe there's jus' somethin' 'bout the atmosphere, " Paige suggests, mouth twitching upwards at the other's request for secrecy. "Y'dun gotta worry 'bout me tellin', " she promises, expression surprised at Berit's generous offer. "Ya'd teach me?" And the lass nibbles on her lower lip, thoughtful. "I - dunno, " she answers at last, "but I guess I'll give it some thought." Although, had she perhaps given the idea any real thought at all up to this point, she might have already sought out lessons. As more candidates file into the nursery, the slim girl gives a small sigh, standing with a grimace for legs that have been sitting for a tad too long. "Yeah, break time, " she agrees, carefully handing off her charge to one of their incoming fellows. "I'll - letcha know if'n I decide ter - t'learn." A smile comes easily for that vow of secrecy. Here is someone she can rely on! And she trusts others without doubt, at that. "I am glad to hear that. It might ruin my steadfast Holdbred reputation if you told," Berit says with some humor, making light of the situation, as she extricates herself from the thin arms wound around her neck. Next, she too hands her infant off to someone else and pushes to her feet, though she shows less interest in stretching her legs as her lower back. "I could teach you. I have taught someone how to speak in a manner befitting their status before, with elegance, too! It is not too hard to learn, and we could do something as simple as starting you out writing letters. You will get it soon enough. You seem to be a bright girl." And at last, she wiggles her fingers. "I think I would like some juice and a trip to the barracks to rest my eyes before we start again. Let me know your decision soon. The eggs are hardening fast, as it is." Off she goes, moving past the other candidates, nannies, and children, and out into the other caverns to make good on her words. |
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