Logs:Rhymes with Zoth
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| RL Date: 4 November, 2015 |
| Who: Lys, Odrick, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two weyrlings and a harper eat dinner; there are no songs about Zoth... yet. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 3, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder. |
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>---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RIJMas) >-------------------------<
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. For many, dinner signals the end of the duty day and the sunny day is reason enough for some diners to be in a particularly good mood. Add to that that tonight's roast rump roast is perfect and there's boisterous talk and laughter abundant. 'Group bonding' as is termed dinner time for the weyrlings sees those weyrlings able to leave their dragons scattered due to the volume of people. Lys sits with half her meal already wolfed down, some small portion of each item from her meal set aside on the edge of her plate. There just so happens to be a pair of open seats near her; surely, it's not a statement on which weyrlings people would prefer to bond with. Surely. Beggars can't be choosers, but that isn't to say that V'ret would have had any problem sitting down in one of those available chairs, when he shows up with a plate. Despite the advance of time, there are still about as many evenings that he's unable to make dinner as those that he is, so perhaps that's reason enough for the big smile. "Funny how the same thing can seem so much more appealing when it's actually cooked and served in a civilized fashion." "Yeah," Lys agrees after swallowing her mouthful and reaching for her mug. "Though Evyth enjoys the raw so much that I don't really mind that much. If I learn one more thing about how they digest it though," she trails off with an expressive and exaggerated shudder. "Those dragon anatomy classes are enough to make me want to skip the next meal. How're you finding them?" Asking personal questions counts as bonding, right? Two weyrlings at supper. Talking about, well, the sorts of things their lives are full of at the moment. "Zoth and I have slightly different taste in meals, but I can't complain that he doesn't savor what he gets," says V'ret. Except for the fact that this has somewhat increased the amount of labor necessary to bathe the young bronze, and this isn't the season where that's a chore to be looked forward to. "I admit, I don't think I have any interest now that we've gotten this far in training as a dragonhealer, I can say that. I'm glad he seems to be healthy as the proverbial runner. At least when it's someone else's dragon, I can have some... distance." Apparently the talk about dragons feeding and dragon anatomy is not enough to put him off starting on his food. "Lucky," Lys sighs as she sets her drink back on the table. "Evyth got thick-tail twice in the first month." She makes an appropriate face for that but doesn't seem inclined to linger on the topic since it might have an adverse affect on her appetite. "What's it like for you?" seems like genuine curiosity. "Does he give you much-- space? Or kind of always there or-?" With a bowl of stew in one hand and a mug of ale in the other, Odrick is looking for a seat. The fact that there are plenty of possible seats throughout the cavern can only mean that the harper settles down nearby Lys on purpose. "Evening, weyrlings. Been a lovely day, hasn't it? The sun and everything." He offers a smile to each before he's settling in with his spoon to enjoy his meal. "He's very--" V'ret's brow has furrowed in such a way that the look when Odrick arrives could pass for relief. Or maybe it is relief. He at least takes it as a reason not to answer. "Oh, hey." It's not the most respectful of greetings, but there's a pleasant smile, an irreverent sort of salute. Are those owed to Harpers? Maybe it's just better safe than sorry. "The sun lifts the mood considerably, although you could freeze your," just slight pause, "ears off out there." Lys's blue-green gaze that was interest for V'ret's answer becomes recognition for Odrick as she joins them. She looks just thrilled. "Journeyman," she greets dutifully. She looks at the bronzerider a moment and then just sighs before sideeyeing the harper. Maybe she needs more sun. The harper doesn't seem to expect more than a greeting, respectful or otherwise, from either of them, so Odrick seems quite pleased with what he's offered. "Let's hope none of us freeze off anything important. But I'd rather be happy it's not worse yet. Do your barracks stay nice and warm? I've never been inside of them." He's only just realized that. It will have to be dealt with another time. "Well, you know, you might have a hard time fitting, they're stuffed pretty full at the moment," V'ret says blithely, though of course by Pass standards even two clutches can't possibly be as bad as all that. "It's more comfortable than sleeping outside." Lys gets a little look, or maybe it's a Look. "V'ret," he adds, an introduction, although he leaves her to her own. "I hear you can still get through weyrlinghood if you lose a few toes. That's why they don't mind sending us out to run laps when Rukbat's up." Lys keeps her tone bland, expression likewise. Her fork picks over some roast tubers, separating out a small portion to join her bit of roast and some root vegetables. "Dragons help keep things warm at night." Presumably only if you sleep with yours, as Lys does. As for introductions, there seems to be none forthcoming from the blonde. "V'ret. Yes." He sounds pleased for some reason, but then he's sharing said reason with the class, so to speak, "I've learned most of your names, I believe. Your bronze is Zoth, correct?" It's possible he simply heard that a few moments ago, but then his dark eyes alight on the young woman. "And your green is Evyth." The harper doesn't explicitly point out that he knows Lys' name, if in fact he does. "I'm Journeyman Harper Odrick. It's very nice to meet you." Note that he's looking at V'ret again when he says this last part. It's a good sign for V'ret's exams that he's capable of putting two and two together as he chews, before setting his fork down for a moment. "You two have met? So sorry, I didn't realize. Zoth, yes. Harper. So, what interest has a Harper in a bunch of baby dragons and their sleep-deprived companions? Are you planning to write a song about us? I don't think Zoth actually rhymes with anything." "'Met' might be overstating," the green weyrling tells the bronze-. Neither confirming nor denying her identity, Lys' lips only slightly pucker in a brief look of distaste before she affects a smile and turns that look on the harper. "I don't suppose," she directs to the harper in a too-sweet tone, "that your posting here is temporary, is it, sir?" Of course, she also offers to V'ret, helpfully, "'Cough' could probably be flubbed," as a rhyme. "Or sloth. Haylof-t." "Cloth. Froth. Wroth. Zeroth. If you want a true rhyme." Odrick nods along to Lys' other suggestions, though, too. "Soft. Trough. Surely that's more than enough to work with. And words can be arranged in such a way that one wouldn't have to--" It seems to occur to him now, "You were joking, weren't you. Well, fortunately for everyone, I do write, but not songs. Stories." To Lys he offers a smile, unruffled by her attitude, "More than likely. That's often the case with Journeymen, yes? I'd like to hope so, anyway." Wrong answer? These suggestions are all taken in turn, with a succession of frowns, furrowed brows, nods, and that tilty-head kind of maybe thing. "It's a longer 'o', I think. It never sounds quite the same when I say it as when he did, though. I was joking, but I haven't done anything worth writing songs about, yet." Yet. "Or stories," V'ret adds, given this new information. "Which means you'll have to stick around at least a little while." This glance at Lys manages to be both pointed and slightly baffled, chiding and not at all understanding. There's a brief conflict on Lys' face at Odrick's words, her eyes slightly narrowing as she looks at him. Her glance flicks to V'ret and there's a slight shake of her head, whatever that means, but then she's pushing back from the table and getting to her feet. "Excuse me," holds far less attitude than it probably ought for this being Lys, something decidedly off about her now as she collects her plate and mug. She leaves the mug in a receptacle but takes the plate as she heads out toward the bowl. "Wherry teeth. Everyone's done something worth writing about simply by existing." Odrick glances after the greenrider as she departs, a small frown furrowing his brows more than turning down his lips. But then his attention returns to the remaining weyrling. "She's not a happy creature, is she. Seems a shame. Anyway. You've impressed a bronze dragon. That's not something the majority of people on Pern have ever done." V'ret is left looking after Lys without any more comprehension than before, and then his head-shake is a delayed sort of mirroring. "I don't know. She's had--a lot of us have had a tough time recently. Adapting to things that have happened." Oh, but he should be keeping it light, shouldn't he? Focus on the positives. Bronze dragon! Big smile! "It's a start, anyway, I think. Now, once we get past the point where we're treated like children... we're allowed one drink with dinner or after, now. One. It's like being twelve and allowed to have a glass of wine about the size of a thimble, again." That's dinner, there, of course, and no sign of the drink in question. "I've heard that." Odrick sounds sympathetic, but since V'ret moves on, the harper won't linger on those heavier subjects. He takes a drink of his ale, sets it back down, "I don't know that being treated like a child is all bad. They're allowed to say things that most adults wouldn't dare. And they suffer very little social repercussion for it. That sounds quite nice to me." While V'ret should probably still be eating with enthusiasm at this point, he's at some point reduced to just picking at his food, and finally sets it aside. "I don't think we can get away with all that. I can think of a lot of things I'd like to say to the Weyrlingmaster after a long day that would probably have a lot of repercussions." This thought, finished, leaves a pause long enough for him to finish the meat, if not the vegetables, and soak up the juices with a slice of bread. "We have all the limitations and none of the freedoms, I guess. No fooling around, almost no alcohol. But one is better than none, and I'm thinking, they haven't forbidden cards--think I might hit the Snowasis if Zoth stays asleep. Even if it's for just a hand or two." "You won't have those limitations for long. Not in the grand scheme of things. And there is a very grand scheme of things out there." Odrick smiles at the weyrling, stirring his stew absently. "I hope your dragon allows you to finish at least a couple. Enough to enjoy, at least. And a drink, if you've yet to have one." That seems to be V'ret's signal to push his chair back. "I was a bartender. If I'm lucky, I figure, maybe someone who likes me will be on shift, and then I can get back behind the bar and make something myself. Properly." Pause. "At cost, ideally." He gets up, then. "Do you play, Odd? Cards, dice, any of those things?" "That would be the way to do it. Good thinking." Odrick takes a small bite of his stew, just enough to swallow easily so he can eat and keep talking. "I enjoy watching them. I've played, but I'm not very good with cards. And dice are so fickle. Maybe I'll come watch you if you're still there when I'm done with this. I could use a glass of wine." His smile is cheerful. Yay, wine. Taking his plate, V'ret makes a momentary rueful face. "Was worth asking, anyway. If you feel like coming out, you do that. I'm not great, but it's something to do that isn't just cleaning up after a dragon, and I could use the break." He pushes his chair back in. "If I don't see you there, sure I'll see you around soon enough." And then he takes off, presumably in a bit of a hurry to get that promised one drink. |
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