Logs:Pressing Worries
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| RL Date: 1 May, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Lilah |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie and Lilah touch on topics of worry for the Weyr. |
| Where: The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A storm continues to rage outside. |
| Mentions: Vidar/Mentions |
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Despite its subterranean locale, the creamy wall paint, pale woods, and
frosted glass give the cavern a light, airy feel. Oil lamps reflect softly
in the polished wood of high-backed booths, glimmering through the opaque
glass dividers that help lend intimacy to the seating arrangements;
round-backed booths carved from stone, lined with deep, terra-cotta
colored padding and the addition of strategic, lyric shapes painted in a
subtle red shade. The sweeping, half-circle shaped bar with its top of
smooth stone, backed by cut-glass-fronted cabinetry flows gracefully into
the soft lines and mellow colors that dominate the Glass Fountain.
All the atmosphere aside, the main attractions of the room are clearly the
massive, multi-pronged chandelier that hangs from multiple chains from the
ceiling and the re-worked leak - which no longer resembles a leak at all,
having been channeled through glass to become a beautiful piece of art. A
curving wave and a series of glass bubbles guide the water past a bank of
glows, allowing the light to shine through the water and turn it into a
sparkling fountain. From its dark, dim, shabby history, the Glass Fountain
has become an elegant place with lattice-stands to hold the menus with
their selection ranging from typical 'bar food' to high-end dishes and
fancy desserts. The mood in much of the Weyr this afternoon is such that many are finding it difficult to settle, even to settle to drinking, and thus the Fountain is not the busiest of places, nor as crowded as it usually might be at this time of day. Perhaps it's this that has allowed the Weyrwoman to claim one of the booths towards the back of the cavern as her own, a half finished glass of whiskey sat beside her on the table, the fingers of her left hand curled loosely around the heavy glasswork. She sits with her legs stretched out before her, skirts covering her to the ankle and tumbling to one side, her head resting against the wall of the cavern proper, rather than the booth itself. Staring seems to be the name of the game, her satchel and its hidework left on the floor. Lilah has certainly been one of those that has found it hard to settle in one place; she's drifted from kitchens to stores to classrooms, anywhere where the caverns connect to another, anywhere that she could attempt to do something useful for the day. Even the Infirmary wasn't enough to keep her, not where many of the injuries are simply in a situation of wait and see. She drifts down the stairs into the Fountain like a falling leaf, without purpose. Wrapped in a soft blue sweater and with golden-red curls falling loose, she at least looks at ease enough to belong here, none of her own work brought with her as she moves to order a glass of wine from the bartender. As she waits for him to fetch it, that is when she spots her Senior, dark eyes falling on Hattie across the cavern. Even as she takes note of Lilah's presence, Hattie doesn't appear concerned that she's sat lounged across the side of the booth, for all she does it tighten her grip on the glass and lift it in a weary sort of salute - that or she's just too tired to keep the glass steady - before tilting it to her lips. She sips, rather than gulp, but then who knows how long she's been sipping for? More of the amber liquid vanishes, and she regards the glass with an edge of disappointment. Still sober, perhaps painfully so, she lets it thunk back to the wooden table. Once the bartender has delivered that glass of wine, Lilah picks it up and crosses the cavern to join Hattie, greeting her with a tip of a chin and sliding into the booth across from the Weyrwoman. "At least we won't run out of liquor before the storm is over," she remarks lightly as a greeting, her gaze sliding back over the cavern once again before coming to rest in a study on the older woman. "But, I shut down Dice for the duration." "I'm not sure that many are in the mood for serious drinking," Hattie sighs, beginning to idly twist the glass in small circles where it lies. "It might have seemed like good idea to start with, but I think the novelty - or the excuse - has lost its shine by now." A twitch of her lips precedes, "Just as well. Trying to land on that tiny ledge in this weather is asking for trouble. There have been at least two instances of dragons injuring themselves purely by missing their ledges when trying to get home." "Could we shift some of the dragonriders with higher, narrower ledges into the weyrling barracks? Or have them sleep in the hatching cavern and find a resident room for their riders?" suggests Lilah as a solution to that, the line of her lips tightening at the mention of the injuries. But then she is lifting that glass to her lips for a small sip. "We should have about a month until Elaruth clutches, and I don't expect," she hopes, "for this continue for that duration. I'm not sure that many would be happy with the lack of privacy in the barracks, but resident rooms could be an option. I don't know that Elaruth will be thrilled about anyone being on the Sands right now, though I'm sure she'd rather that than have them hurt themselves." Hattie lifts one shoulder in a tense shrug. "There's room for about two more in the junior weyrs, but any more than that..." Lilah nods, before she is offering of her own with a simple, "And a green and her rider could share with Eliyaveith and I, at least," though she doesn't press on that idea. Instead, her study lingering on the Weyrwoman, she turns the conversation to that mention of the senior queen with the light inquiry of, "How is Elaruth?" Hattie lifts her glass to her lips to take another drink rather than immediately answer anything about her queen. The word she chooses is the end is, "Coping." She glances down into the glass and lazily swirls around what remains of the whiskey. "Admittedly not getting much sleep, and I can't say that I know she will until this is all over. At least until she knows that everyone is safe and isn't hurting." She adds, a moment later, "The healers claim there's no danger to the eggs yet." Though that deserves another drink. "Eliyaveith?" "She is worried and concerned, of course, but keeping herself busy by making sure none of the dragons get it into their heads to try to fight through the storm, and keeping those injured calm," replies Lilah with a hint of a smile for her absent queen, twisting fingers against her glass with her own excess energy that has no such convenient mental outlet as Eliyaveith's. And there is that hint of a nod as she accepts the answer about eggs, replying instead, "Can you tell if it will be a large clutch? Can she feel that?" Certainly, she doesn't know what a queen can feel. "I suppose that she's felt more uncomfortable towards the end with her larger clutches, but apart from noting how much she expands, I don't think there's any sure way of knowing," Hattie answers, the brief downward tug of her lips displaying her dissatisfaction with having only so vague a response to provide. "Then, the size of the clutch isn't really something that she worries about. She just wants them to be hers and happy. And healthy." Though that too casts a shadow across her features. "Truth be told, I think she'd be as happy with two as with twenty." "As would Eliyaveith." Lilah certainly is great at timing her awkward jokes, surely, though she punctuates the dry thing with a slow sip of wine before she continues with a reassurance to her Weyrwoman, "I would not worry about the healthy, at least until she clutches. If she rolls them away again--." Hattie's expression gets caught mid twist between dry smile and grimace, until she manages to get it to bleed into something more neutral by draining the last of her whiskey. "...If she rolls them away again, it might be easier all round if they were dropped Between." There's an odd, bordering on fierce sense of focus and concentration from her when she speaks those words, perhaps effort made to keep that thought from her queen. "She wouldn't let you," Lilah points out quietly, though not without disagreement for that sentiment, her gaze sliding away to a distance point before returning back to Hattie with a little shake of the goldrider's head. "No," Hattie agrees in a murmur, "she wouldn't let me and I'd never try and take her eggs from her. But it doesn't stop me wishing there were a way to save her the pain of their hatching and her losing them after all." The empty glass gets tipped this way and that, before the dully, heavy sound annoys her and she leaves off, drawing her hand back to her lap. "Nor do I want any dragonless weyrlings left insane and suicidal." Lilah's eyes darken in her own moment of silence for that, lifting her glass to her lips without speaking before she finally settles that glass down much like Hattie's own. When she does, it's with a tempered, "She hasn't even clutched, yet. We can worry about that and our Search," a subtle pause, there, as she watches the Weyrwoman, "after she lays her eggs." It doesn't look like there's much coming back from those thoughts, Hattie's weary blankness now sunk into a darker, heavier thing. She swings her slippered feet to the floor, mindful to sweep her skirts along too as she sits up properly, then she reaches down from the strap of her satchel. "We can worry about a lot of things before and after she's laid her eggs," she says lowly, inching her way along the seat to leave the booth and get to her feet, brushing imaginary lint from the fabric of her dress. "I think what is more pressing is the situation that we find ourselves in," Lilah replies with a lift of her fingers in a gesture around them. If they were above ground, surely it would convey the storm raging around them, but they are not. And even when Hattie stands, the junior presses quickly, "There are already holders sending for help." Sighing deeply, Hattie fixes Lilah with a stare that can't appear to decide whether it means to be patronising or just some measure beyond true anger. "Do you not think that, perhaps, just /maybe/ that is what I meant?" she puts to her, a growing sharpness in her voice. "Of course, I forgot that you assume that everyone around you is ignorant to the same concerns that you find yourself occupied with. Sometimes, I do wonder..." Whatever it is that she wonders, she doesn't vocalise the thought, settling for a shake of her head instead. "Perhaps you should look to Eliyaveith for guidance every now and then." The Weyrwoman doesn't linger; she just gets out of there. Quickly. There is a flicker of surprise across the younger woman's expression for the response that elicits, shuttered away quickly behind the flat stare of dark eyes. And as the Weyrwoman retreats before Lilah can get her own response in, she will instead only watch her rather than make any scene with raised voices, only staying in the Fountain until her own drink is done. |
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