Logs:So Much Talk
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| RL Date: 23 September, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, L'hai |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Brieli makes a criminal case out of a request of the kitchen staff. As you do. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 11, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions |
| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day. Never is it truly dull in the kitchen. If it's not meal time, then it's either prep or clean-up, with both occasionally flowing seamlessly into each other. So there's a smattering of cooks about, mostly the trainees, involved deeply in dishes washing and then there's L'hai, taking advantage of the slim out-of-the-way space for seating overflow. Or he would be, if the bronzerider were taken to sitting; rather, he stands, leant shoulder against the beginning curve of that quick nook, with half a redfruit hovered on his lips, held by the hand not keeping an open book spread by thumb and pinkie and quite effectively burying his nose in it. The light tip of his head has started his glasses on a downward trend. Once in a while, the trainees glance his way, or the cooks discussing the next day's load of fresh bread mutter remembrances to each other, but for the most part he makes an uninvolved fixture, no more interesting than a piece of mostly stowed furniture. It's rare for Brieli to look less than purposeful, and so she does today, striding into the kitchens with long legs and quick steps. She looks as if she might be looking for someone specific, making her way easily through and around the workers to the dishwashers. When it's not who she's expecting - or hoping to be - on duty, she has a purse of her lips and a brief word with the staff before she's on her way again. It's all so quick that she doesn't notice the glances, wouldn't notice L'hai at all if she weren't headed for the caverns - in fact, she takes a full step past him before pausing and stepping back, asking, "Why are you doing that here?" So much for hello. He keeps reading. A second - finishing some line. Then his head lifts, and L'hai spares two fingers above the fruit to shove the wayward glasses up, though he seems to peer nearly out of only one half of them while letting Brieli come into focus. "I'm waiting." He declares with a certain efficiency of tone that comes from having been interrupted. Then, fingers adjusting against the open pages, he decides to elaborate, "And I prefer to do other things while I wait. Merely waiting seems to cause one anxiety and a lack of productivity." While the bronzerider's tone cannot be said to run cold, a particular high-strung kind of irritation has made its way in - too distracted to merely be caused by Brieli, or anything she's done - but not entirely unrelated in the way he peers at her. Clank and clatter of the bronze's mind is obscured almost entirely by the dense smog of his mindset, dulling the noise of constant turn-around and increasing the bitterness of the burnt smell projected out. Kolniveth's presence just buzzes the queen's like a notice of intent - a reminder. His physical one is above, wings at attention, as he sifts through the sky, sorting air currents like paperwork while engaging in the dragon equivalent of pacing mid-air. (Kolniveth to Iesaryth) So much talk, so little information. Brieli arches fine brows at the bronzerider, at that tone. What? With exaggerated patience, she asks, "Waiting for...?" Because that's the blank that really needs filling, in her mind. Glancing over her shoulder to the kitchen staff, "You know, as much as I do admire an interest in being constantly productive, they might like it if you wait elsewhere? Or do it in a less... hover-y sort of way, yes?" She leaves out the 'creepy', looking back to L'hai with a tilt of her head. "Does it need to happen here?" An encompassing gesture meant for the whole kitchen area. The sound of waves, eternally crashing and reforming in ocean's depths, has not been far from most of the Reaches' consciousness over the last days, attempting to blanket a sort of level calm on the dragons at least. Iesaryth is not quite distracted by this; she can divide her attention enough to note the bronze's presence - though sea breezes might carry away any acrid bitterness if at all possible. She's just watching the bowl from her ledge, a common enough practice at any time, but not moving might make all of the mental work easier. Or that could be an excuse, it's hard to tell. (Iesaryth to Kolniveth) "Them." An answer that, like the look she's treated with before it, suggests L'hai has expected as much information to be obvious. As he adjusts against the cavern wall, his nose scrunches up lightly. The 'them' having been a head nod towards the kitchen workers, now all conspicuously working hard, he realigns on Brieli with a tilted gaze, the book weaseling closer and closer to shut as his fingers relax together. "It doesn't, no. But, then again, I wasn't precisely doing it for their liking, either. And I'm not... well. Hovering I'd think would suggest I were over there at a much less comfortable distance, impressing my point through a lack of respect for personal space, rather than a mild suggestion out of the corner of the eye." A not unfamiliar state for the bronze, swathed in that muggy stink of dissatisfaction; come most prominently during the protestors' display. While the gears of his mind process no slower, clinking away like clockwork, his mood is an undeniable flat tone. Feeling the innate calm, he puffs a speck of appreciative smog and industrial gas in her direction, irreverent to its general incompatibility with sea breezes - or merely assured she'll be able to handle it. The blaze of sunrise reflecting windows remain obscured with his mentalscape stronger in scents these days. (Kolniveth to Iesaryth) With a sigh, "What are you waiting for them to do?" It isn't quite pained, but Brieli's tone skates around the edges of it as she folds her arms. "Or not do. Or whatever. Explain." Which L'hai might think he's doing, but in the tall girl's opinion, that's clearly not happening. Her lips quirking into something suspiciously close to a smirk, she points out, "If you want them to help you, you might want to consider what they like. Just a suggestion. And whatever you want to call it. Some people might not like someone hanging about while they work." It took a little while for the waters to wash over the Weyr initially - something held her back - but since, Iesaryth hasn't really stopped in her general soothing, only pulled away now and then when she's gone elsewhere, when she sleeps. Though the appreciation might not necessarily be the easiest to accept, she's quick enough to acknowledge it, pleased - before blowing it out to sea. She can handle anything! In her opinion. (Iesaryth to Kolniveth) "What I asked them. See," before she can interject with any more of those questions, L'hai straightens purposefully off of his lean; not leaving the stance entirely, but adding an attentiveness to his pose aided by the finger he raises to demonstrate as his fast-pattered speech rolls on, "It's not that I'm not answering your questions, it's that I'm specifically not answering what you're looking for. Really, we could do this all evening, but I don't think you'd like it." A subtle influence on like, circling around to her surely helpful advice. Remembering he's holding it, he takes a healthy bite from the redfruit, catching juice off his bottom lip with the back of his hand, then lowering the food as he swallows. "As for them," the redfruit points out the workers, "If you must know, which your tone suggests you feel, I've left them alone twice before now and come back to the word that they're so very sorry, but they just completely forgot to get around to it. They said it, but they were lying. I could tell." "Yes, I have some little interest in what the kitchen staff that I am, in part responsible for, are being asked for or potentially harassed about, if they're blowing you off because it's none of your business. Which they have every right to do." Brieli looses a hand to touch her temple, expression shading towards tortured - melodramatic! Again with that patience, "If you don't think I'd like it, why do it? And maybe they're busy. Perhaps they've been asked to do things that are a higher priority. Or again, it could be none of your concern. But I have a sense that it's something stupid, now that I've gone so far down the path." She glances back over her shoulder another time, as if she's about to get any help from the staff - who are likely just glad they don't have to get into it. L'hai's undertone of irritation drops out when he becomes sincerely confused, "Wait, none of my business if they did-- my... business?" Not even sarcastic. There's a form of blink, where his gaze rolls to the ceiling, then back. "Honestly, because I thought you'd get bored. Typically, when I start talking, people make very fast excuses to be anywhere else." In the same, practical tone, as he two-fingered slips the glasses from his nose to rub at the now exposed eye-socket then slide them back into place. "Anyway, if they'd told me any of those very legitimate things you just did, then it wouldn't be a thing, would it. It'd just be... well. A different thing. Every day. It's the lying," idly, he raises his book up, flattening out his fingers to stretch it back open. "It's like an itch." A couple of the staffers do appear fairly guilty over there, pretending not to want to eavesdrop but perhaps secure in the bronzerider's less sociable qualities. Gaze shifting back to the bronzerider, "If you asked about information you don't need, maybe it's none of your business. And I like to know things." That might explain Brieli's persistence in the face of dodging - regardless of what it might be, she considers it her business, obviously. "I find it suspicious when people don't want to explain themselves. And I don't get bored." That could be a lie, certainly. Watching him with dark eyes narrowed slightly, assessingly, "Lying bothers you?" There's a little laugh at that, a shake of her head - something about that entertains her. Attempting another tack, "If you explain, I might be able to help. Or you can just keep... hanging around here." "It's the, ah, the kitchen," L'hai explains, eye twitching somewhat for the unnecessary fact of his own words, leading into, "I asked for pastries." Not information, as it were. "I find it suspicious when people make broad statements about themselves that are particularly convenient to the situation. And it's less the act of lying, while inconvenient and bothersome in its own way, so much as when I can tell someone's lying. Here," the book he has is circled around his face, then the rest of his body, "And here. It's incredibly distracting when you're trying to hold a conversation," his eyes squint behind the lenses, turn off of her, then back, narrowed with an attempt at concentration. "Yes. Both those things you said are true, and possible. I suppose, though, what you mean to imply is that I should explain." Now the book arcs up towards the awfully busy kitchen staff, "Two days ago, I asked if they might make a batch of those... puffy ones with the-- that, umm. Cherry. Filling bit. As you said," his gaze slides apologetically to her, "Stupid." Shrugging, "It's the kitchen. Yes. You never know." As if state secrets are hidden amidst the hearths and the food. Brieli seems none too concerned with L'hai's suspicions, though her gaze might narrow a touch again. Though that will fade into something close to amusement again when he goes on about lying; she arches those brows again, attempting to look suitably impressed. "Can you. I suppose it must be." And then, with a little break in that general ease, "I told you to explain." Didn't ask, but she doesn't think she has to, apparently. When it is, in fact, a minor thing, she just shakes her head, dark curls moving over her shoulders. "Ask next time - me or Azaylia. We have... meetings about the menus." Wrinkling her nose, "We can add it." No pride in the way L'hai squirms under her arched eyebrows, "Sometimes. Like when you know the structure of the facial expression you're supposed to make but it doesn't reach your eyes." He squints a single eye at her, frozen there in what looks to be examination, "But there are people who are very good at it," until he shakes his head softly, more like to rouse himself from some other meandering thought in his head. "Uhh... none of which," the fingers wag, "are employed on the kitchen staff. And, no, please, don't. I mean, not for me. It's just the batch I want. Or, not me. Ava." One of the greenriders from the protest, sentenced to a considerable amount of watch duty. "Well, actually, yes me. But for her. Which I happened to tell the kitchen staff in trying to explain which ones I wanted, and now they are forgetting to make them." Brieli doesn't look as if she notices such examination, or meandering thoughts - she's looked away entirely in favor of the busy staff, as if the people doing dishes might have changed over the course of the conversation. Interesting timing. "No, I don't suppose they're all that good at it. They're mostly good at gossiping," she notes, in a tone that doesn't seem to judge or endorse. But L'hai's explanation gives her pause; her lips purse as she looks back his way, telling him bluntly, "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. As a favor. But you owe me for it." Keeping quiet, the pastries, or both? With a significant look, she'll step away, start towards the caverns again. "You talk too much." Maybe it's meant as advice, certainly not as condemnation. "Never very gracefully, and always too literally." And never allowing advice to just sit there like it should. L'hai's low aside of self-deprecation is blithely matter-of-fact as he spares the kitchen staff his own glance, unfurling his book with more certainty as Brieli steps off. Another shake of her head, and Brieli just moves on, equally purposeful as before. At least she knows to leave well enough alone. |
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