Logs:One of Those
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| RL Date: 8 March, 2015 |
| Who: Agatha, R'hin, Jadzia, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin and Jadzia get to know Agatha, and Edyis pushes her case. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 3, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aughan/Mentions, Issedi/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions |
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Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day. The dinner rush has past, and most of the kitchen staff are busy with clean up and post-meal duties. It's not the best time to be in the kitchen, but certainly not the worst, with their distraction. R'hin's managed to sweet-talk his favorite cook into something quick and hot, the bowl of stew that is his prize settled on the table of one of the breakfast nooks that he's claimed as his own. Pale eyes watch the goings on in the kitchen, more out of habit than any particular interest in the normal routine. Agatha seems known to the kitchen staff, or at least accepted, and she's there on her own mission to con a snack after-hours, in her case a couple of thick slices of bread that she's already tearing into unceremoniously. When one of the cooks barges with a particularly large, particularly crusty pot, the girl is forced to flatten herself into the nearest available space to avoid being bulldozed. It just happens to be occupied by R'hin. "Hello. Excuse me," she offers. "You should aim higher," is R'hin's response, with a wave of his spoon in the direction of her bread, his voice amused of all things. If he's bothered by the interruption of her abrupt arrival, it certainly doesn't show. "Something hot at least," is added, pseudo-helpfully. "Have you had this bread though," more of a statement than a question, and the bread slices do look appropriately delicious, thick and toasty-brown on the edges. Agatha waves a slice, adding, "The stew looks great but I don't want anything sloppy, it'll get on my hands." She gives a friendly nod of farewell and steps out of the niche, only to be nearly run down by yet another burdened cook. "Oops!" "That particular one, right there?" R'hin counters, with a grin, "Not yet," with a squint, then: "Could trade. If you were up for it. A partial trade, anyway. Bread soaked in stew is quite nice, and not too sloppy." When the girl nearly gets run over again, he's gesturing towards the bench opposite him, in invitation. "Best stay out of their way, this time of day. It's like they don't even see normal people," with a laugh. It's from the storerooms that Jadzia emerges into the kitchen, a little flushed despite the generally not-warm weather, her braids a little messed up, but nothing too major. She does her best to make her way through the bustle toward the living cavern, but a familiar old man catches her eye and makes her way there instead, dodging bodies with relative ease until she's helping herself to the space between R'hin and the edge of his bench. "I hate this time of day," she says like everyone will agree with her, glancing at Agatha and saying, "Hey," in the next moment. Agatha lets out a little laugh as well at her own folly once she's ducked back into the protection of the dining nook. "Right. Safer in here." She takes that offered bench and nibbles on one of her slices, considering the trade. "Here," she decides, handing over the (un-nibbled) slice, then lifting her hand to toss a wave to the new arrival with the other. "Evening. Yeah. I've nearly been flattened twice." Looking pleased with the acquisition, R'hin gives Agatha an easy grin as he accepts the bread, nudging his bowl a little more towards the middle, in case she wants to partake. The look the bronzerider gives Jadzia is simultaneously knowing and amused, chuckling under his breath. He shifts over a little, to make more room, while he tears a piece off that newly acquired bread. "I've sometimes thought about what would happen if you put random objects in their way. Would they run into them, or just kind of... dodge around them instinctively the way dragons do?" R'hin speculates aloud, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze as he glances to Agatha. The brownrider smooths a hand over her hair, studying the girl on the other side of the table for a moment before glancing toward the passing kitchen staff. "They'd probably trip and break themselves and then they'd be short-handed and pissy. More pissy than usual." Jadzia, the optimist. Except not. Her gaze is drawn to a young man who's making his way from the storerooms to the living cavern now, looking like he's looking for someone. Jadzia turns toward R'hin, though, leaning an elbow against the table. "Who's your friend?" Agatha does in fact want to partake, though she thoughtfully tears her own slice into pieces so she isn't doing any double-dipping. "Thank you. I'm Agatha." R'hin can explain the friendship or lack thereof. Her lips quirk up a little at Jadzia's no doubt accurate assessment. "Being able to blink around someone would be awfully handy though." R'hin's gaze, too, is caught briefly by the young man, if only because he's following Jadzia's line of sight. His attention doesn't linger, though, just long enough to make note of the man. He grunts at Jadzia's suggestion, less satisfied with this potential outcome. "Guess we'll never know, eh?" Like Schrodinger's cat, the kitchen staff's fate will never be known. "Agatha's my friend," he introduces helpfully, though only after Agatha's introduced herself first; there's amusement in the bronzerider's expression. "We've exchanged foodstuffs, so we'll surely be friends for life." There's definitely a dry humor to his tone, though it doesn't, perhaps, last into speculation of her suggestion: "That could be awkward. Kitchen staff blinking into your weyr or your room to take your plates. Who knows what you might be doing? Firelizards are bad enough." "That must mean we're practically married, what with all we've shared," says Jadzia with a cheerfulness that's almost certainly feigned. As an aside to Agatha, she explains, "He has a really great collection of alcohol. You should get him to show you sometime." She's super helpful. "If people could blink around by themselves, I think we might be out of a job. And I, for one, enjoy the exclusivity of having a dragon of my own." Agatha catches R'hin's amusement. "We have literally broken bread. but I didn't get your name?" She cocks one eyebrow at R'hin and dips some of that brpken bread in the stew bowl. Despite a small dramatic shudder when the man brings new and horrifying insight to her teleporting kitchen staff concept, she adds, "Hard to get a dragon in a kitchen though." Jadzia's remark on the booze has her eying R'hin with what might be new appreciation, and she tells her solemnly, "Good to know. Thank you." A snort of amusement is R'hin's response to Jadzia, at least until she lets on about his alcohol collection. "Now, now, Zia. That's supposed to be our little secret. I don't need more people trying to break into my weyr." He doesn't seem too upset, even if he gives the brownrider a look, setting the bread down and leaning back from the table. "R'hin," he supplies in a grin to Agatha after her observation. "And don't you go getting any ideas, friend. I've a lock on my weyr," with a waggle of finger in her direction as she thanks Jadzia for the knowledge. Jadzia senses "R'hin gives her a nudge under the table with his knee, in time with that look." "Look at her," says Jadzia in response to that look, going so far as to lift a hand to gesture at poor Agatha. "Does she look like the sort of person who would break into anyone's weyr? Shards, I've never broken into your weyr." The implication being that she does look like the sort to do it. Her attention turns to Agatha, though, and she grins brightly. "Don't listen to him. He acts all crochety sometimes but he's really a decent guy most of the time. Oh, I'm Jadzia." The last is added like she'd almost forgotten to introduce herself properly-ish. Lips curving in a slow grin, Agatha assures, "I would never dream of it." See? She doesn't look like it at all. She tilts her head curiously at R'hin, then tells Jadzia, "Really? Crochety? Maybe we just haven't been friends long enough for me to see that side of him," and then adds "And well met, both of you." "I don't know. She has the look of something about her," R'hin concludes, after an intent inspection of Agatha, then back to Jadzia: "Don't you think?" There's a snort for Jadzia's description of him, but he doesn't disabuse it. "She only likes me because of my alcohol, I suspect," he shares with Agatha, as he reaches for the remainder of the bread, tearing off another slice. "You been around High Reaches long?" "Oh, please," Jadzia rolls her eyes at R'hin's comment. "It's not just your booze. You're my wingleader, too. Pretending to like you is kind of necessary on all sorts of levels." But the smile she offers the bronzerider betrays any seriousness she might have been trying to pull off. "Anyway, she seems like a pretty young woman. Just your type." The brownrider leans forward a little, curious to learn more about the unfamiliar face. "This time around? A few weeks. But I was born here. Folks are riders, but I was fostered. Lived here until I was twelve, and then we went off to High Reaches Hold. My foster parents and I, I mean." Having shared the general biographical information, she dips into the stew again and looks out at the bustle in the main area of the kitchens. "Still know how to get around, but everything else seems pretty different." She grins at Jadzia and her teasing. "Nah. We're just friends." "See what I have to put up with," R'hin sighs long-sufferingly, though it's clearly put on, given the chuckled laughter that follows soon after. "I have a type?" the bronzerider sounds surprised at Jadzia's suggestion. "I don't know what you mean." And as he finishes off his bread, he dusts off his chest, removing invisible crumbs. "Oh? Who are your parents?" he asks, curiously, grinning at Agatha's response to Jadzia, making an approving noise as he pushes the bowl aside. "Female." That's R'hin's type according to Jadzia. And she'll leave it at that lest she say something too crude for the ears of younger, possibly more innocent women. "Why did you go to High Reaches Hold? Why are you back here?" The latter might be the more important question, really, but Jadzia asks them both anyway. "Did they make you all weird and prude?" Okay, now she's just being an asshole. "Greenrider Aganthe and bluerider G'tal." Agatha pops another stewy bread morsel in her mouth and chews and swallows politely before adding "Flight baby. My foster parents moved us all to the Hold, I'm not really sure why. I came back because they're all pro-Hold now though and this is my home." She crinkles the bridge of her nose at Jadzia, though not in a truly unfriendly way. "I'm not a prude." Weird? Maybe. There's a dismissive snort from R'hin at Jadzia's answer, clearly disagreeing. Instead, he picks up the thread the brownrider's picked at. "A few weeks, hm? So... you would've been at High Reaches Hold when all that... unfortunate business went down with the Lady Issedi?" He taps fingers against the table for a moment, looking thoughtfully past the others. "Useful, though, having people at the Hold," he says all-too-casually, and then: "I know your parents." Maybe more, know of, but he doesn't clarify that. If Jadzia knows them, there's no recognition in her face. But then, she's reached into her jacket for her flask and, while she hasn't opened it yet, she's fingering the cap in the way of a habit. "I grew up in Crom," she says as though it implies she doesn't actually have anything against holds, or other people having lived in them. They're all friends here! "And it sounds like you'll fit right back in." "Yeah? I don't see much of them." Her tone indicates that she's not much bothered by that one way or another. Agatha nods. "Terrible thing, that was." R'hin's interest and words are sort of glossed over, for all her fine talk of home she's not really up on the political intrigue. "Yeah, it's been nice to see the old place again, though a lot of folks don't recognize me. I got a lot taller while I was away." And also, you know, adultish. "The Lord Crom's an ass, but you turned out ok," R'hin tells Jadzia, as if she's somehow lucky, giving her a sidelong grin. Agatha's answer still seems to interest the bronzerider, as much for the lack of one as anything, earning thoughtful pale gaze for a beat or two. "Well, if you want all the latest on who's who, Zia's the one to ask." He's possibly teasing the brownrider, given the grin he gives her, and the fact that he adds, "I could help out too, but I take payment in alcohol, and good food. Generally in that order of preference." Jadzia makes a face at R'hin, apparently not overly affected by the talk of Lady Issedi. "He says alcohol. But he means good alcohol. He's very delicate and can't handle anything but the best." The brownrider beams at R'hin before shifting from the bench and up to her feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to drink and young, virile men to seduce." You know, the complete opposite of her wingleader. "Wouldn't dream of keeping you," Agatha says earnestly. "I've met a few people since I've been back. Edyis, Itsy, Farideh but only briefly...some guy reading about thicktail." She brushes the remaining crumbs of her bread into her hand, and then drops them on the floor. "I did give you food," she points out to R'hin. "She does know me well," R'hin concedes of Jadzia's correction. "What can I say? I appreciate a good vintage." He spreads his hands as if he's been caught, and not at all sorry for it. His, "Come find me later," to Jadzia is casual acceptance of her excuse to leave, it seems. "Yes, but," he counters Agatha, "This doesn't count. It was more of an exchange, see?" There's possibly recognition of the names she lists, if the fleeting grin is anything to judge by. "So have they found you something useful to do yet? What do you want to do, now you're back home?" "Yes, sir," is Jadzia's easy response as she's moving off with a brief wave to Agatha before she's lost amongst the staff of the kitchen and on her merry way. "I'm a knitter. Not a Weaver though." Agatha speaks as someone who has made this distinction many times. "So I'm knitting sweaters for the stores, and spinning up some of the llama fleeces into yarn. Believe me, they've not let me be idle." Having finished her snack, she props an elbow on the table. "But I do like it. And you? What do you do? I mean, I know you're a rider, of course." "Never thought about apprenticing?" R'hin wonders, curiously, most of his attention fixed on Agatha now, although his attention just drift to watch the comings and goings through the kitchen with regularity borne of habit. "I'm a bit of a... well, just a rider," he says, casually. "I enjoy imbibing wines, and talking to people. You know -- the simple things in life," and yet there's an amusement threaded through his voice when he says it, as if it's a phrase well-practiced. Agatha, seated in a dining nook with R'hin to escape the after-dinner bustle (which seems to have died down) shakes her head emphatically. "I don't know if I want to do it for the rest of my life." She nods along gamely with R'hin's words about himself, though looks faintly suspicious, like perhaps she's missing something. Still, who can fault a man for the preferences he lists. "Drinking and talking. I hear you." R'hin's, "Mm," seems thoughtful -- encouraging even. "So if not that, what then? The Hold's not for you -- so, adventure? Seeing the world? Meeting interesting new people?" He's grinning throughout all of those suggestions. Her latter words earn an approving chuckle. Edyis slips in quietly, heading directly for whatever remains in the cooking pots. It is only after she has scrounged together a bowl of stew and a mug of klah that she spots Agatha and company with a familiar smile, settling in next to Agatha with a nod of greeting for her and the rider, digging into her food rather than speaking. "I'll figure it out. Just wanted a change, you know? Adventure sounds good though. Already gotten started on meeting interesting new people." She grins as Edyis takes the seat next to her, pleased. "Hi!" It's okay, she knows she's second rate to that bowl of stew. "Ahh. One of those," R'hin says, meaningfully, to Agatha, gaze flickering to Edyis as she joins them wordlessly. "You should talk with Edyis here. She's been through all sorts of changes of career." Words! Thankfully Edyis is a girl with manners, so it isn't until after she isn't in the middle of chewing that she grins abashed. "Hello again how goes the spinning?" Dark eyes shift then to regard to the bronzerider. "Alas, I too still search for that one great career choice that will hold my attention completely for longer than a turn." She adds with a mischievous smile. "What is it I do for a living again?" Agatha squints at the bronzerider, just a touch defensively but unable to make a convincing argument that he's wrong. She'll answer Edyis instead. "Nearly have a sweater's worth, though I'll probably try to spin what's in the stores before I start knitting with it, unless someone's absolutely desperate for a llama sweater before then. How goes the..." She realizes at this point that she doesn't know what Edyis does for a living. The squinting earns a little grin from the bronzerider in turn, kind of knowing, but managing to be just shy of smug. "Faranth only knows," R'hin concludes, in response to Edyis. "I sure don't." Agatha's question of Edyis has him, too, looking curiously at Edyis, brows raised inquisitively. Edyis grins for Agatha, "I wouldn't mind a sweater, but I can't knit to save my life. You should have seen the ones with the half sleeves that we got in tithes one year." As to her profession, she stops eating looking up at the cavern ceiling for a moment speculatively. "Officially I think I am on the books as a Waitress? But unofficially I usually just get called obnoxious." A beat and she adds with a grin, "Personally I like to think of myself as a professional student. The beautiful thing about weyr life, you get to try new things until something fits." "See? That's all I want. To try new things." Agatha gives a firm nod, then sighs and gets to her feet to slip out of the nook past Edyis. "But for now, it's knitting, and I'd probably better get back to it. Thank you for the stew, R'hin. It was nice to meet you." "A student of life," R'hin concludes, with a low-throated laugh. "You ought to take her under your wing, Edyis. Show her the sights, so to speak." As Agatha leaves, he gives her a grin and a nod, gaze trailing her as she leaves. "She's from High Reaches Hold, you know," he says, all-too-casually, to Edyis. Edyis grins for trying new things and nods, and it is only after Agatha leaves and R'hin speaks again that she nods. "Yes, High Reaches hold, but born to the Weyr originally, she moved there when she turned twelve." The former scribe points out. "Actually seems to be quite a few new faces in the Weyr over the last turn." "She already told me. Pretty free with her history," R'hin observes easily. "Could be useful," he adds, whether that's Agatha being free about her history, or her ties with the Hold, is anyone's guess. "It happens. People get restless, want to move onto new and different things." Edyis nods again, in agreement. "Give me a little time to build up a rapport. Last time I got over eager and rushed things it wound up being a mess." Her voice soft, another bite of stew taken as she studies the bronzerider. "Speaking of time...I think I said a couple of sevens? I take it you have been busy." "And so have you," R'hin replies, easily, with a steady look. Edyis meets that look, spoon tapping lightly against the rim of her bowl. Mild curiosity works its way across her features as she asks, "What do you know about what I have been up to over the last four sevens?" "People tell me things, sometimes whether I want to know or not," is all R'hin says, with a shrug of shoulders. "In other words you are being nonspecific because you don't have anything." Edyis guesses, tilting her head. "That or you genuinely don't want to know. In either case, I still mean it. I want to build those contacts, call it preparation for another role, unless you have an assignment in mind." R'hin gives a sudden little grin. "Mm. Yes, that's it." Pressing his hand against the table for a moment, he starts to slide out of the breakfast nook, reaching over to grab his bowl. "Running tomorrow?" Hard to tell whether that's invitation or pre-requisite; either way he doesn't seem apt to clarify as he heads over to deposit his bowl with the other dirty dishes. "I will see if I can make the time." She answers, brow arching as she digs back into her bowl of stew. "Have a good rest of your night." The Savannah rider gives a nod in return, zipping up his jacket as he heads through the living caverns and presumably beyond to the bowl. |
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