Logs:Return to Reaches
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| RL Date: 22 October, 2014 |
| Who: Edyis, Weylaughn, Alida, Farideh |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The Snowasis has campers. |
| Where: Snowaisis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: As usual feel free to add/edit/correct anything I may have missed. Huge log is huge. |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. It's early afternoon, that rare span of time where the Snowasis is relatively empty. Edyis sits, with a bottle of wine and a glass, half full. Spread before her are several open notebooks littered with sketches and annotations, the dates varying but all dated within the last two turns. Plants, firelizards, people, the subjects are as varied as the dates but she seems to study them none the less quietly. "Keep an eye on your sister, understand? I'll just be in here for a few moments. Did you hear me?" Weylaughn's voice carries well enough, while the voices of smaller children - a boy and a girl - are less distinct. "Yes, you can play in the snow. Just don't- no. No, don't go too far at all. If you do, a dragon will snatch you up and eat you for being bad. Do you understand?" Despondent mutters follow, with the sound of booted feet carrying the sound away. In comes the Holder, of course, dressed in his typical finery - gray with hints of silver and white. A satchel hangs cross-wise over his person and is latched securely shut. He looks a bit worse for wear at the edges, but that's surely from something to do with either herding children or other business. A bottle of wine and a glass are acquired - but his survey of the room in search of a seat is a blind one, looking without really seeing. Lost, much? Edyis glances up brows lifting first at the piece of conversation, then at the holder making his way into the bar after dispatching said children. "I never pegged you as the sort of boy who would abandon children to play in this weather while enjoying a bottle of wine in a bar." The journals gathered and tucked into her own bag. "Then again, I hadn't expected to find you here again so soon Weylaughn."Ah. There. Weylaughn blinks once, slowly, and he returns to the moment at the sound of someone addressing him. "Ah," he begins as he turns to face Edyis, "well. They'll be fine. It's not as if a dragon really will eat them." His smile is tired and pitched at a lopsided angle. "And they're not being abandoned. Lauweina's old enough to keep an eye on both of them. They'll get tired of it and come back soon enough." He hooks a chair and settles in at Edyis's table, though he's mindful not to sit too close to her. "They wanted to visit," is his explanation. One shoulder rises and falls. "They wanted to know why I was here for so long - I told them it was the snow and the dragons." "Rather than the truth, how noble of you." Comes the reply as she refills her own glass unbothered by his joining her. "Pardon me for saying so but you look terrible." Those words are gentler, than the first. Dark eyes fully apprising the young man. "Well, if I told them the truth, they would have changed their minds," is Weylaughn's rationale. "They needed to get away for a bit." Truth, that, though his skills at evasion aren't particularly good. He fills his glass and takes a healthy drink of it before looking at her again. "I know. Sleep- it's not been a particularly good friend of mine lately. Happens sometimes." He tries a smile, but it falls flat. "Ah. Anyway. You're looking well as ever. "What were you looking at before? The books, I mean." Edyis twists the stem of her glass, watching the liquid swish. "I'm sorry you couldn't find what you were looking for here." A half smile forming over her lips. "Journals mostly, when I first started in the records room, Master Jeroman had me start keeping them to improve my illustration and penmanship skills. Since then I've made it a habit to take notes on things, observations mostly. These were all full, so it's time to store them away." She's given a noncommital noise in reply. Weylaughn takes another drink and settles on studying the liquid inside when he's done. "You must have an awful lot of notes, if that's the case." A sidelong look is angled toward her. "You seem like the sort who keeps an eye on everything - and then some." An understatement, probably; one that he's keenly aware of. "I'd like to see the illustrations some time, if I may. It's hard to find anyone with a real talent for it, you know?"
He shifts things around slightly, allowing him to hook the book closer and flip it open. Weylaughn studies the drawings with a peculiar intensity - brow-furrowing, in fact - and momentarily forgets about his drink. He is listening, however, and her reply is met with, "Sounds about right. I sometimes wish I were more observant, but- ah. I don't think that's quite in the fabric that makes me, well. Me." He glances up, nose wrinkled slightly. "It's... a complicated thing." He sucks his teeth and looks back at the sketches. Safer that way. Easier. "Pulhaun offered to make me Steward, but I declined. It was- ah. It was for the best, really. So. I'll need to find the Headwoman before long, I suppose." "Only as complicated as you decide to make it. So you are leaving Seven Echoes behind then? Coming to live amongst the savages in the den of forsaken morality?" Levity dancing amid the words even as her eyes has the glint of mischief. "Not that anyone here really fits that description on a day to day basis. I figured though you would have thought most of us beneath your blood, or gathered from the few times your mask slipped." "No choice but to," Weylaughn replies. Another page is flipped to and his features screw up a little. "It's not so terrible here. At least, I didn't think so. I- ah." It's the mention of blood that elicits a wince. "My blood's not so different from yours or anyone else's." The words are uttered low, with just a twinge of something else underneath. Difficult to tell. He finishes the glass, pours a second, and studies the fluid. Tip the glass this way; tilt it that. "I thought... differently. Before. But- ah. I was wrong." His mouth twists as if more words insist on making themselves known, but he drowns them instead. The scribe cants her head to the side, refilling her glass. "That must be - embarrassing." She decides on the last, with a sigh. "If it makes you feel any better, my brother banned my letters home for a year because he thought I was sleeping with every dragonrider in the weyr and that was the reasoning behind why I didn't want to go home and get married like a good little holder girl." She offers in a confessional tone, "People invent their own truths, and often they bear very little resemblance to reality. Still, it's a good place to start fresh. Start over." "It doesn't," is true enough. "But, thank you. I suppose things would have been much different if she- ah." Wey's features screw up a little, unable to finish the thought. He dismisses it with a vague motion and proceeds to close the book and slide it closer to the recordskeeper. "She invented one large enough for the both of us," he finally says. "It probably would have held forever if I hadn't come here." He lifts his glass a little toward her, in some sort of a drunkard's salute. Then, in a low-pitched voice, he wonders, "Is that why you're here? For a different start?" Edyis nods, fingers collecting the book before chuckling at the salute. "I'm here because this is where I get to choose what I grow into, the person I become. Good, bad, or otherwise." She takes a deep sip from her glass. "So I guess you could say it was for a different start, or to be something more." She laughs, "You aren't the only person with an ego at least." His nose wrinkles just a little, but the answer seems satisfactory enough. Mostly. "I suspect you don't have an eye toward being Headwoman," Wey remarks. "But I'm not sure- ah." He falls silent for a moment, gaze shifting toward the entrance. He's quiet for the span of a heartbeat or two before continuing, "I'm not sure what more you want to be. What more is there?" And the mention of ego? Why, that's snorted at - but not at all disputed. "Bruised," is the only correction he'll add to the state of his ego. "And just a bit." "I will let you know when I figure out what the more is. Right now I'd settle for something that pays well, and isn't boring." She laughs. "Giorda has it well in hand, it would be some years before she retires. In the mean time I pick up what skills I can." "That's not a terribly satisfying answer." Weylaughn laughs all the same. "But, you've a better grip on it than I do. Here, at least." A vague gesture with his glass covers the whole of the Weyr, while the Holder attempts to get a little more comfortable in his chair. No easy feat, considering how reluctant he is to release his straight-backed posture. "At least you have something you're good at." Hanging back in the darkness of the farthest corner of the Snowasis - her seated self-'s back abutted to the rear wall of the place - a certain fair-skinned and pale-headed woman lurks. Actually, lurking is too active a word for what she does. Alida really just splays there upon her chair, downing the next in a small series of whiskey sours, her eyes only rarely lifting to jerk across the happenings beyond her sober spot. Nice that there's twin ways to enter the bar, one of them less well known, and from the back...helps in not being as easily noticed. All the bluie does is sit, drink, stare out into the distance or at the semi-concealed table top...and brood. Its difficult to say why Edyis didn't notice the arrival of the bluerider. But she does eventualy catch the familiar sight of the green eyed blonde with a grin. "You should try the records room until you figure out what you are good at. I've been getting complaints lately for harassing the folks that come in to study. I need more time off anyway." Yeah she is just itching not to be at the bottom of the totem pole again. "HEY ALIDA!" Suddenly, without warning and with the biggest waving of arms imaginable. It's no surprise Weylaughn is oblivious to the bluerider's arrival; the lad's a bit lacking in the observation department. Just a bit. Edyis's suggestion is met with a thoughtful noise and, eventually, "I suppose. The other three are young enough that they don't need to work, I suppose, but-" And then raised voices and arm-waving happens, leaving the Holder to choke and sputter on a mouthful of nothing at all. He's lucky not to lose his glass or make a mess of things - but only just. "What? I- who?" Confusion, thy name is Weylaughn. Wha-huh? She shouldn't be surprised at being recognized, but most folk in here are familiar enough with the blonde to just leave her alone when she's like 'this.' Edyis, however, is not apparently one of them. The scribe's yelled-out greeting has rather morose green eyes snapping over in her general direction, then picking Ed and her 'buddy' out of the loud, milling throng. All the bluerider does is bob her head grimly to Ed...and then go back to drinking, thinking. "Bluerider. Tries to kill me on occasion. Really nice lady." Edyis explains helpfully, or well not so helpfully. "AILLLLLLLLLDDAAAA." Yeah if she's going to invade the bar, Edyis is going to make an ass of herself indicating where she should sit with her grump. Nod isn't going to do it folks. Looking back to Weylaughn. "Eh, Sorry." "Oh. I see." So articulate! Weylaughn cants a look back at the other woman in question to study her for a moment, but his assessment only matches the obvious: "I think she just wants to be left alone." At least he's mindful to keep his voice low. Edyis's apology is met with a rolled shoulder and a fairly mild, "It's not me you ought to be apologizing to." Not that he's going to go further into Obvious-dom. He has a glass of wine to drink and a doorway to occasionally check. So far, so good, but his expression is slowly growing lines of concern. If Alida ever *meant* to kill Edyis, the scribe likely wouldn't be here to say so...and so says the dark glower shot straight to the scribe, via those gelid green eyes of hers. At least Weylaughn appears to get the gist of the bluie's mood, though he's the more quiet of the two, sadly. Piss-off, Ed! Back to her drinking goes the grumpy woman, one of her hidden hands doing something at her likewise-hidden lap. There's something to be said for figurative speech, but the glower is enough to silence the suddenly exuberant scribe. "Well, she's usually more social." Edyis explains, which might cause the sane in the room to wonder exactly what the scribe has been drinking to cause such delusions. However she just huffs, and returns to her glass. "You were saying yes to records work with a caveat?" Returning right back to the normal conversation and possibly causing mental whiplash. "Ah- wha'." There should be a question or even a complete word in there. Wey is, indeed, at a complete loss for anything resembling language. A curious look is angled back to the bluerider and her mysterious motions at lap-level, but he's quick to snap his attention back to Edyis lest he end up staring and getting in trouble. "Ah. Well. I- no, I suppose there wouldn't be a caveat at all," he concedes when his tongue and brain are finally in line with one another. "I'm just not terribly sure they'll have me do it when they have you and, ah- probably a good couple of others as well. After all, how well can the son of a crazy whore be trusted, especially after everything else?" It's easier to say it out loud when he has something to wash the bitter taste down afterward. Which he does. Long distance to Alida: Edyis suggests just getting the cummupins on the practice mat? Edyis tilts her head, frowning. "I'm not sure how much longer they will keep me if R'hin keeps agitating Master Jeroman. Besides, I don't have harper training; it's all on the job. I love the records room, but they'd get more benefit out of you, since you spent time at Harper Hall." She tilts her head considering. Alida + social = Oxymoron. At least Edyis finally got the message, which perhaps allows the scribe to go on living another day... or at least exist without extra bruising. the 'lap lander' beyond the two chatters continues her drinking, and finally reveals the reason for aformentioned lap motions: a small gold firelizard lifted carefully from Alida's legs, and settled into the crook of one arm...the little beastie's eyes whirling blue with hints of yellow as she nuzzles her human. Clarification is a muttered, "Six months or so when I was thirteen is hardly any time at all." Weylaughn coughs gently. "I was raised and taught by a very talented Harper," if nothing else, he can't take that away from Yewlani, "but that's... not quite the same." More movement from the corner is worth a wary glance - and some measure of relief when the firelizard is revealed. Though there's a furrowing of his brow for something or another, it's rapidly schooled into neutrality and his attention swiftly returns in full to Edyis. "I will have to speak with the Headwoman, regardless... and hope she has room for four of us." Another cold, dreary night at the Reaches has a certain laundress seeking the familiar warmth of the Snowasis in the evening hours. Farideh can be seen wearing some new, clean duds: soft olive-hued blouse, fitted black pants and taller boots, most of which she wears her usual oversized jacket; she takes it off at the entrance, slinging it over her arm on her way to the bar. Her fingers wrap and unwrap around a wire-wrapped pendant dangling from her neck in absent movement. She wedges herself between two people at the bar and, on her tippy toes, greets the bartender with a smile and a sincere greeting. But she stays at the bar to wait for her drink, making small talk with her neighbors. When the bartender returns, the beverage within the tall glass is red -- something girly no doubt. "Paulan's staying at the Echoes. Yuhana's off at Harper, where she belongs." Weylaughn's shoulders lift and fall in a gesture that's distressingly helpless. "Pulhaun doesn't know what to do with the rest of them. Heywani's too young; Ulahaun's too smart; Lauweina's too much trouble." Names, names, so many names. He takes a healthy swig of his drink and his gaze wanders, if only a little. It snags on something sparkly, oddly enough, and holds; his expression goes from thoughtful to dumbfounded in the span of seconds. That lost expression from before? It's back again. In force. The pale-headed woman at the very back corner of the Snowasis continues to keep pretty much to herself, sometimes petting the flit draped upon one of her crooked arms, sometimes sipping deeply from her drink, and occasionally looking up and around. Alida's features are only a little pinched, now, only a bit sleep-deprived and sere. Given the crap that's been happening lately, it's hardly odd. Enough other riders are also still dealing with their own and their dragons' reactions to the loss of one of their queens. Edyis expression softens considerably, and it's quite possible that the once cocky lord-to-be has stepped up considerably in her estimation. "So you are taking on getting them settled, and dealing with Farnath only knows what. No wonder you look like a wherry in the feeding pen." There's a nod to Farideh when she enters and another glance over to Alida before she frowns. "Giorda handles placement for the younger kids, but if you want any help getting them settled in." She states. It is when Farideh is fortified with her drink, and a laugh tumbling from her lips from something the woman to her left had said, that she turns to survey the seating vacancies. She catches Edyis' nod and moves in that direction, not bothering to wait on tasting her beverage of choice. Her eyes brim with excitement when she nears - as if there is something she wants to say to the scribe - but her gaze skips past to Weylaughn and her smile falters, a bit. "Evening," she says as she pulls out a chair at their table. "I didn't think you were due back at the Weyr anytime soon, Weylaughn," as she sits down and takes a sip of her drink, her eyes flicking back to Edyis, "I haven't seen you in ages Edyis, where have you been?" Though her tone is playful, her words include something of a rebuke - you can't run from her friendship. Ever. "What else am I supposed to do?" That's what Weylaughn wants to know. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes - as much to fend off a headache as it is to clear up that lost, seeing-but-not-seeing expression. He probably didn't actually see what he thought he saw. Even if Edyis is nodding in that direction. His eyes remain shut as he adds, "Help would be good. I don't... don't... ah." Words elude him and he settles on swallowing a sigh. ... and, suddenly, he's confronted with the person he thought he saw but couldn't be sure because he's probably gone half-crazy himself at this point. The hand holding his figurative seams together is finally dropped and he looks properly at Farideh. "Ah, well. Plans have... changed, that's all." A boyish grin manifests, but it's a tired and tilted thing. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you, eh?" Apparently Alida's cutting herself off at three whiskey sours, for the palest-blonde woman slowly pushes back from her table, then stands...still holding Pyrite tucked into the crook of one arm. As the bluerider steps smoothly forward - silently weaving through the crowd - she'll happen to pass close by the area Edyis, Weylaughn, and Farideh congregate at. Even as her forward motion continues, Ed gets a stiff little nod of recognition from the blonde - the tiny gold firelizard tossing in a low churr of her own to the scribe she remembers - theie presences disappearing quickly in the crowd as the pair continue onward towards the front of the Snowasis. The scribe gives Farideh her best, be gentle smile, before she returns the bluerider's nod, and even gives the little gold a nod of her own. "Been exceptionally busy of late, I've been meaning to catch you though Farideh, honest!." As for Weylaughn, Edyis nods. "Yeah, I'll help wrangle them for you tonight, poor things getting shuffled off to a weyr with no warning." Ordering another bottle of wine. People falling apart at the seams is a thing around these parts recently, so Farideh doesn't bat an eye at the holder's tired mien. "Changed? What plans?" She seems to have sensed they were talking of this very thing just before her arrival, and starts looking between her friend and her not-quite-a-friend. "What happened?" this with her brow furrowed in confusion, but her brow smooths out with Edyis' reassurance; she'll let it go for now. "Soon, then." "Thank you. Though, I suspect I'll have my hands full enough with getting them presentable enough to be settled in." Weylaughn shifts slightly in his chair and, in the end, simply stands. A nod is spared for the passing bluerider, with his attention momentarily lighting on Farideh. "Ah. It's-" and whatever was revealed in that slip of the mask is quickly sealed again "-nothing, Farideh. Another time, perhaps." There we go. His smile is right back to normal again. He pours another glass of wine but, this time, simply sets it in front of the laundress - and never mind that she has a drink. The rest of his bottle is edged closer to her as well. "Speaking of the children and plans, I ought to go find them and make sure they haven't gotten themselves into too much trouble. Take care," is angled for Edyis, while a following, "It is good to see you again," is for Farideh. And if he can manage a light touch to the chain of the necklace where it rests along the side of the laundress's neck, he will - if only in the few moments before he's bundling up to brave the world outside. Edyis nods watching the holder go. Sighing deeply and standing to stretch for a minute before reseating herself more comfortably. "Goodness talk about a crazy month." She states to Farideh once it's just the two of them. Weylaughn warrants a frown, her fingers lingering over the chain where his brushed, but Farideh is quick to let Edyis reclaim her attention. "Tell me about it. That storm and-" Her words are cut off by a fight that breaks out by the bar, stealing the laundress' attention until someone starts tugging on her sleeve; it's another laundress. "Steila says she wants you. C'mon, let's go, she don't want to wait." Farideh rolls her eyes and stands up again. "Sorry, Edyis, but.. soon." She's smiling as she allows the other woman to lead her off, leaving her drink and Weylaughn's glass in her wake. |
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