Logs:Quiet chat over klah
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| RL Date: 4 July, 2013 |
| Who: N'ky, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Both N'ky and Tayte need breaks from their respective work. They chat over klah. |
| Where: Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Brilliant light plays off of the dunes of snow as a cloudless winter night brings with it extreme cold. |
| Mentions: Yvalia/Mentions |
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| Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr A passageway hewn into the rock and heavily patched with cement leads a short distance in to the bowl wall, with a door on either side. Lit by regularly spaced glows, the white-washed walls have been covered over by colorful tapestries, wall hangings and pieces of art made from metal and wood. To the left of the entranceway, just a single step inside, a spiral staircase opens out of the wall, leading upwards through the stone. Further down, a doorway opens to either side of the corridor, while at the far end, there is a hewn-stone staircase leading up to the residential quarters, wreathed by two final doors to private quarters and the bathing room. The door leading to the east opens into an expansive room that seems to provide both general working space - with long, bare benches and chairs - and a cozy lounge complete with over-stuffed sofas and a few fuzzy armchairs. Three tall windows are carved into the stone, and offer air and light when the heavy wooden shutters are left open, though the lounge area has to make do mostly with glows. A hearth at the back of the room provides both heat and basic cooking facilities. The white-washed walls are bedecked with decoration - from quilts, to tapestries, to wooden carvings and metal sculptures. The western door leads into another passage, off of which the main workrooms have been built. The loading dock is at the northern end, leading back out into the bowl, with the rest of the rooms leading deeper and deeper into the wall.
Still wearing his heavy leather work apron, and with the bitter tang of metal lingering in the air around him, N'ky is also one of those who's been working late. His meandering path into the lounge is driven by thoughts occupied elsewhere, as his vacant expression suggests his mind's currently with his lifemate. Attention snaps quickly back into the room though when he bumps into the back of one of the lounge's chairs; his embarrassed look is quickly hidden when he realises he's not alone and that his fumble could easily have been seen by Tayte. With eyes cast down to the tips of his scuffed-up metal-toed work boots, he passes her to get to the hearth with a mumble that might be a greeting of sorts. Once he's by the fire, he starts fumbling about to make klah. The fumble wasn't seen, so perhaps that'll save N'ky any blushes his cheeks might have been readying, but the sound draws the Istan's attention away from her pan. It takes her a moment as she regards the greenrider to place the face, what with him looking so much more the crafter than the rider at this moment. The fumbling with the klah has her gracefully onto her feet and moving to the hearth, "N'ky, right?" Tayte's smile is warm, that warmth extending to the whole of her tanned face, "Cailluneth's rider. I don't suppose you'd consider letting me practice my expert pouring skills for your klah," She doesn't say it, but it might be concern for if the man should fumble too much and burn himself. Coming closer will perhaps give a little more clarity for the weyrling's haziness, as there's the scent of something distinctly alcohol-based around him, muddled in with the metallic tang. He blinks at Tayte when she seems to recognise him, clearly not placing her as easily, and his tongue runs nervously over his bottom lip when she even names his lifemate. A cautious nod confirms that she's got his identity right, and he looks at her with a confusion that's almost wary when she offers to make his klah. "Um... if you'd like?" He rocks back on his heels to move a little bit out of the way, watching the blonde while N'ky runs his fingers through his messy curls. "Tayte," The woman offers with a smile; clearly, no offense taken. "You showed me the lake months back when I was just arrived." Her manner of dress is different now, no longer the light Istan fabrics and styles, but more 'Reaches-worthy wear. The colors are just as bright though, her top a warm sunny yellow knit and bottoms a heather gray skirt that reaches to her ankles. Being a vintner, the alcohol-based scent is no doubt placed, but it's not commented on, instead her lips are put to the task of giving him a bright smile. She snags up a mug, letting it twirl agilely around two fingers before her grip expertly interrupts the spin to snap into place around the handle. The klah pot is lifted from its place over the hearthfire and she pours the brown liquid (from a fairly impressive height) into the mug, not spilling a drop. She did say 'practice' and 'expert' along with pouring so she makes a show of just that lest her true motives be suspected. "Do you take any sweetner or milk?" Then, after another glance at his apron and another whiff of the smell that hangs around him, "Coming from the forge?" N'ky watches the show quietly, lips pursed and brows thoughtfully low over his brown eyes. part-hidden as they are beneath wayward forward-falling curls. "Just plain," he replies to the quesition of how he takes it. "No milk, no sweetner." Then, as an afterthought - "Please?" Quickly followed by a rapid little shake of his head as if to clear it, and a "Thank you," as he rocks back from heels to butt, sitting on the floor with knees crooked and akimbo, holding his hand out for the mug. Tayte's given a nod for her second question, and a mumbled 'mmhrm' accompanies it. The fact that the weyrling ends up settled on the floor within a blink has Tayte raising her eyebrows a little. But the mug is handed over without questions. Well, except: "Mind if I join you?" This, as she reaches to fill another mug, though only half-full. "I feel like my brain is melting as much as the goo in that tray," she nods to where she came from. "I need a break." She reaches up to run her hand through her own hair, pushing it back from her face. "Are you finished at the forge for the night or heading back over after--?" She indicates the klah with a nod of her head. Another nod, this time over the rim of his klah mug as he raises it to blow on the drink, invites Tayte to join him. N'ky takes a hesitant sip of his klah, testing the temperature before drawing in a larger gulp, eyes closing blissfully as he swallows it. First one cracks open, then the other, and he squints at Tayte. "I think I r-remember you," he says quietly, words muffled a little by the mug that's still held up in front of his mouth. Brown eyes flicker over towards the goo that's nodded at, though he can't see it from his floor-level position. With his gaze focused back on his mug, he shrugs his shoulders apathetically. "I'm not done yet." There's a pause of a few seconds, then, "I needed a break, too." "I'd hope so," Tayte responds with a laugh. "You still owe me a trip up to the starstones, and I owe you some introductions to some drinks, but if I had to use my vintner superpowers of truth telling, I'd say you've taken a foray into the alcoholic offerings of the world on your own." It's delivered with humor, so as to be all the more gentle as she finishes pouring and drops down onto the floor beside him, crossing her legs elbows going to her knees, mug held between them. "I think I've seen you and your Cailluneth flying since then, but it's sort of hard to tell from the bowl floor. How is your lifemate? And what are you working on, if you don't mind my asking?" "Probably have. We've had two months of playing elevator." N'ky snorts softly, still holding his klah up to his mouth, both hands - with fingers still mucky from whatever work he's been doing - curled around it. "Cailluneth is watching Timor. It's full, and the sky's clear." He sips from his klah, then peeps up at Tayte briefly. "Thank you for asking. And for remembering her name." A beat. "And mine." The greenrider chews on his lip for a moment, thinking. "I'm, um... j-just working." He squirms, shifting about so his apron covers his knees as he sits cross-legged, hunching over to rest his elbows on them, almost echoing Tayte. "Two months? Is that a lot for weyrlings?" Tayte asks, genuinely curious and obviously unversed in the ways of weyrlinghood. "Sounds like Cailluneth has a seat at a good show. She doesn't mind the cold?" Again, curious. She leans her face close to the rim of her mug, looking down at the liquid as the steam ceases to come and then takes a sip, cautious, like his first. "I'm good with names and faces. It becomes survival to pick friend from foe when they're stumbling up drunk at the bar asking for another drink." She offers this with a simple shrug. "Now, remind me, because I'm not always good with the details. You're not a smith, right? You studied with them, though, I think?" She purses her lips, "Are you working on weyrling stuff? I guess they do have all those buckles on the flying straps and such." She contemplates, while waiting for his answers. Hunching further over his klah, N'ky's expression is almost hidden by his curls as they fall forward over his forehead. It's not an uncomfortable position, but it's one in which his attention is on his drink, and little else. He starts off his answer with a shrug of his shoulders. "The others were busy with sweeps. I couldn't do them, so I did other stuff. Like elevator duty." Shrugging again, he raises his klah to his lips to take another sip. "Farrier. Not a Smith, just a farrier. I'm not working on anything special." Again his tongue runs over his bottom lip, right before he starts to chew on it. "Not buckles. Cailluneth has straps already." "Oh." Tayte's lips form the syllable, though it's a confused sound rather than an understanding one. There aren't enough details yet for the situation to be made clear to her. She opens her mouth, likely planning to ask about those details, when a noise intrudes on the general calm of the late-night lounge. It's crying. Crying that gets louder. The vintner's mouth shuts and a small sigh escapes her, the sigh of someone who knows that cry. She offers an apologetic look to N'ky as she gets to her feet. "I'm sorry, N'ky. I'd ask more, but duty is coming this way." She reaches her hand down to briefly touch his shoulder lightly, "Do be careful when you go back to work, won't you? You seem a little-- tired." She settles for, instead of commenting on the faint scent of alcohol and the muddledness of his actions. Just then an apprentice of about sixteen appears at the door of the lounge with a crying blonde toddler in her arms. "Ma'am?" is asked uncertainly of Tayte. "I'm coming," is the journeyman's response. She gathers her things and trades the apprentice pan for daughter, starting to soothe her as they head back out of sight. The sound of sobs and steps become silence soon after. The touch to his shoulder makes N'ky tense up, and he looks up at Tayte, with his teeth pressed into his lip, not sure what to make of the brief contact. The appearance of the apprentice captures his attention, and he winces at the sound of the crying, raising his mug to his lips as if a sip of klah might fortify him against the sound. "'Night," he mumbles as Tayte goes, curling his knees up against his chest to finish his drink in the silence she leaves behind. |
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