Logs:Quilted
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| RL Date: 10 July, 2014 |
| Who: Acele, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A weaver and a healer wind and sew. |
| Where: Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 3, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dilan/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. Acele is tucked away in a nook just out of line-of-sight from the kitchens, hands flying as she works on...something, eyes glancing furtively around, neck craning occasionally to peek around walls and tables and such. There are a fair number of diners about, which she seems to be using to her advantage, her little work station hidden from obvious view from the broad backs of a tablefull of seated men grabbing their evening meal. Her mood is one of anxiety rather than guilt - distracted, twitchy anxiety. It's purely by chance that Madilla's path carries her towards Acele's nook, or perhaps it's just that, being so close to the wall, the light is better in those nooks. Unlike most of the caverns' occupants, she carries with her not dinner, but a small cloth bag slung over her shoulder. As she makes her way around that busier table, she starts, Acele coming in to view: "Oh!" she says. And, "I didn't think anyone else would be using this spot... do you mind?" And even after that, "Are you... all right?" Acele jumps a good mile - well, six inches /at least/, head snapping around to take in Madilla before her shoulders sag in relief. Obviously not who she's worried about. She waves her free hand at the other chairs, though her task takes up a good half of the table "Oh, yes, sit sit sit, no problem at all." She pauses and gathers spools and bobbins closer to her chair "Sorry about all this." She's got a little crank-operated spooler clamped to the table, and appears to be winding thread from large wooden spools to smaller wooden spools. Tedious apprentice labor. Madilla's expression shows some suggestion of bewilderment, but the healer evidently takes Acele's words at face value, sinking into the chair opposite the apprentice without further pause. "No, no, it's fine. I understand the desire to work somewhere more... less secluded. More public?" Her smile, at least, is genuine. Her bag, opened upon her lap, reveals handiwork of another type: quilt patches, or at least pieces of fabric that seem destined to become such. "And I don't need much space." Acele gives the quilt pieces a somewhat searching glance before settling back to twitchy, yet efficient, winding. "Oh. Well, yes. I'm likely to be missed here. I was suppose to have these done this morning." She cranes her neck again, brows furrowed "But I got distracted." shrug. There are a good fifty wound spools in her basket already, her winding appears to be no small task. "You sew? I always stick my thumbs." she frowns at her winding "But usually because my attention wanders. Snack?" A bowl of nuts is nudged across the table "Oh, I see," says Madilla, her tone edging towards the conspiratorial. "Well, I won't turn you in. We'll sit here quietly, and I'll try not to distract you too much, so you can get it all done. I remember rolling countless bandages as an apprentice; tedious, however important it is." She demurs on the nuts with a shake of her head, and a smile, while getting out a needle, threading it expertly. "Quilts, mostly. Mending when I have to. You're a... weaver who doesn't sew?" Acele rolls her eyes expressively, pulls off a full bobbin and racks up a new one "The loom isn't even fully warped, but I know if they saw me winding now I'd be in for it." She shakes her head as if abiding by deadlines is a totally unreasonable expectation, and pops a nut into her mouth. After a moment of awkward chewing, she shakes her head "I'm a weaver who spins and weaves. I mean, I had to be able to do my stitches and sew a straight seam and all, everyone has to, but that's just not where my skill sits." a shrug "I can do quilt batting, though! That's a lot of fun." Enlightenment shows upon Madilla's expression and, hastily, she begins to nod. "Of course. It's so easy to forget, sometimes, that fabric has to come from somewhere, if you know what I mean. It's been a long time since-- well, we all learned how to spin, when I was a little girl, but I haven't done it since." Needle threaded, she turns her gaze towards her pre-pinned patches, setting to with tiny, precise stitches. "Madilla," she adds by way of belated introduction. "Journeyman Healer, though I suppose that's obvious enough." From her knot, if not her conversation. Even after the polite introduction, Acele winds on for nearly half a minute before starting and nodding nervously. "Acele. Weaver apprentice. Lovely to meet you." Despite the absent mindedness, her fingers steadily wind "It takes four spinners for one weaver, so I imagine everyone's used a spindle at one time or another. Even them." she nods at the Riders beyond. "Do you like Healing?" The pause doesn't seem to bother Madilla - who did, after all, promise not to cause too much interruption to the weaver's work. She busies herself with her stitches, working on without lifting her gaze. "Lovely to meet you, too, Acele. You're probably right. And - well, once you've learned how, it's not so difficult, though you have to be mindful of it, to keep the thread properly thin. I like my work, yes. It's satisfying. Productive. I like being able to help people - when I can." Acele wrinkles her nose, and the expression leaks into her tone "Isn't it...well....messy?" Heavens, not messy. She pops off another bobbin, pops another on. Her reel makes soothing little well oiled clackclackclick noises, almost enough to lull a drowsy person to sleep. Acele is a bit too amped up for that, however. "I once stabbed my hand with some wool combs and had to go in. There were other people in there for....something." she briefly waves a hand "It was sort of smelly. That, instantly, makes Madilla laugh - a warm, gentle kind of laugh. "It can be," she agrees. "Messy and smelly both. We try to keep things as clean as possible, too, and that adds a different kind of smelly. You get used to it, I find. Blood certainly no longer bothers me, and even the reek of numbweed boiling is less... well, less obvious to me. It's certainly not work for everyone. By the same token, I could never be a weaver, as much as I enjoy my quilts." Acele's face goes briefly yellow, then white "Yes, blood is really not my favorite thing at all." she mentions carefully, then stares at her spooler for a while, collecting herself. "I don't mind the smell of numbweed and redwort, dyeing involves all sorts of sharp smells, it's the....body smells that are not on at all." she stops winding entirely to wipe her palms "I'm a lot more careful with combs now, those things are sharp. Good weapons, though." aaand, she's winding again. No wonder this task was procrastinated to the point of urgency "Why no weaving, are you allergic to wool?" In response, Madilla's expression is apologetic, lifted so that she can aim it more directly at the weaver. "You're not alone in that," she says, with genuine sympathy. "I forget, sometimes, that others are not as used to such things as I am." Those green of eyes of hers consider Acele's hands, and then, more broadly, the bobbins she's winding. "No, no. It's more-- quilts are a good hobby for me. They're portable and practical and they make excellent personal gifts. I like making them, but I don't feel pressure; it's just a hobby. I don't need to be creative on demand. I'm content with my one little foray into textile arts. Was weaving always something you wished to do?" "Socks are good gifts, too." Acele's suggestion breezily erases all suggestion of blood or...other stuff. "They're small and portable and practical! Have you tried them?" Because sewing and knitting both use needles, right? She shrugs, and tosses another bobbin rattlingly into the basket "Weaving is something I was good at. Mother and dad were at their wit's end trying to find something suitable, all my brothers and sisters have gobs of Crafty talent." she juts her chin at the quilt "Mostly I see the old Aunties doing those, how did you learn?" Madilla laughs, immediately, at the suggestion. "It's terrible: I've never been able to knit. I tried so hard to learn, and it just... never worked for me. I tangle it, every time." She's got a nod for Acele's explanation, one that doesn't interrupt the flow of her careful stitches. "You're from a crafter family, then," she concludes. "But... you like the weaving? As well as being good at it?" Of her quilt, she smiles. "I learned some of it when I was a little girl: my family had a tradition of wedding quilts. When I moved here, I had some of those Aunties teach me more. I needed something that wasn't work; something to keep me busy. and it reminded me of home." Acele pauses again to wave her hand expansively, as if guesturing back into the ages "Oh, yes. My parents are both Master crafters, and my siblings are either Masters or nearly there." This doesn't seem to bother her much. She bends again to winding. Only one large spool left! "Weaving is nice. I like having something I can touch and examine at the end of the day. It feels good and useful. It's nice to point to a THING at the end of the day and say "Look, I made that."" the thread breaks and she stifles what sounds suspiciously like a curse before spitting into her hand "It's good, though, to have a hobby to keep your fingers nimble." she arranges both ends overlapping and begins to rub her palms together vigorously. "Especially in the winter." Madilla's slow nod is confirmation, and perhaps understanding, for Acele's explanation, both of her family and her enjoyment of her craft. She watches with more interest as the apprentice works at her broken thread, though it doesn't stop her from replying. "I can understand that - the enjoyment of having produced something. It's less tangible, in my line of work, but one still does get that satisfaction. And, of course, I get it with my quilts. I like having something to do with my hands; I like keeping them busy. And now... now I know that even if my children are far away, they're sleeping under quilts I've made, which makes me feel close to them." "They can't come live here?" It is possible that Acele is not THE most tactful person on the planet, though the question is asked more with squirrel-like curiosity than rank disregard for feelings. "I'm the youngest, so I got more time at home before they found something for me that would be a 'good fit.'" That turn of phrase is obviously quoted. She resumes her winding, a little recklessly quickly as the end nears "Yes, I suppose you see people working fine after you've sewn them up, or whatever. That would be good!" "Oh, they did live here," says Madilla, rueful, but not offended by the question. "They were born here. My daughter has recently apprenticed with the harpers, and my son is... spending some time with his father's family, at High Reaches Hold." She's rather deliberately careful about how she explains her son's whereabouts. More cheerful is the way she agrees, "That's very good, yes. Seeing people recover. And - seeing babies born safely, and things like that. It can be very satisfying." Acele is completely oblivious to any careful phrasing, she just accepts everything whole cloth "Oh, well at least they're placed well. It's good to make sure everyone has something to do!" And with that, the last large bobbin clatters emptily in its basket. She pops the finished spool off her crank and is just stowing it when a dark head pops up at the opposite side of the cavern, thunderously scanning faces, arms crossed "Oh, dear. There he is. I should just...." she begins to frantically-yet-quietly scoop the whole kit into a shapless bag Madilla's head turns as if to try and place whatever it is - whoever it is - Acele has seen; it turns back, quickly enough. "At least you're finished," she says, with a smile. "Just in time, from the look of it." She ties off the hem of her quilt patch, examining it thoughtfully, before placing it into her own bag. "Does that mean you're going to slide out of here before you get seen?" Acele is already standing even "Um, yes, I'm just going to slide along out that way...." she points, then eyes the other side of the cavern speculatively "I was going to grab something to eat but..." that dark head is edging ever closer "But I think I'll just put these where they go. Sorry. Yes. Come to me if you need more thread Ispingoodlinen" the last bit is spat out in a rush as she creeeps out of the alcove and begins speeding along the outside wall before finally ducking out, well ahead of whoever she's evading. |
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