Logs:Sooty Surprise
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 28 October, 2013 |
| Who: Lansha, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A couple candidates (Lansha and Geran) cleaning the flue get a sooty surprise and make a new acquaintance (Tayte). |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 2, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
  |
| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
In a Weyr, as with any other place with a large population, there are all kinds of people and different people have different ways of occupying themselves in their leisure time. Tayte's primary pastime is people-watching, so it may not be surprising to see the perpetually tanned woman settled in one of the comfortable chairs at the nighthearth, wrapped in a thigh-length powder pink sweater-jacket with buttons up the front and a tie around the front. The garment gives way to grey wool skirt with a slit for mobility and at whose fibers her fingers idly pick. There aren't gossipers about to eavesdrop on, so ocean colored eyes watch the candidates at work as she nurses a mug of klah and that might or might not be laced with something more potent. Lansha is working at something in the flue, jabbing at it with his brush. "Yeah, something's...*cough* *cough*...something's jammed up there, hang on." He scrubs and pounds furiously with the brush for a good fifteen seconds. "OK, I think I got it, it's coming now, it's..." His last words are cutoff as something falls into the hearth, followed by a HUGE downpour and cloud of dust and soot. Years of accumulation douse the unfortunate candidates, who emerge, coughing and sputtering and gasping for breath. "Yeah...*cough cough cough*... yeah, that's got it." Lansha is seized by another coughing fit and it's another minute before he realizes someone's there. "Oh! I'm so sorry, we didn't know you were there *cough cough*. Guess we should've *cough* warned folks away *cough*." There are some dangers a woman just can't help but react to. She's been watching, and while the volume of soot is unexpected, after the drop of the something, Tayte's slipping from her curl and starting to move round the chair, trying to get as much blockage between her pretty pink sweater and the soot that threatens to soil it. It helps that she's not sitting terribly near the hearth itself when this occurs, so she does manage to get the chair to shield her from what bit of the cast off travels that far. Still the unexpectedly thick air sets her coughing a moment. She doesn't seem to register the apology, no harm done since the sweater's still safe. Instead, the mild concern in her eyes is for the candidates, "Are you two alright?" Her alto is pleasant and holds a natural warmth that makes the question have a heart-felt quality to her worry. The cloud of dust and soot finally settles, mercifully sparing Tayte the filth that the candidates are covered in. Lansha gives a little laugh and a cheery grin, eyes sparkling merrily through the grime. "Aheheh, no, no, we're fine. I think I inhaled most of that soot, but we're OK." The other boy looks up, finally noticing the woman behind the chair, and does a double-take, staring open-mouthed. "We're Candidates underneath all the dirt, if you can believe it. Pulled this duty today. One of the drawbacks of being tall and skinny, I get to clean the flue. I'm Lansha, and this is..." He looks down to see the other boy staring and gives him a nudge with his foot. The other boy looks up at Lansha, standing. "Hey, what was that for?" He turns toward Tayte, "Oh, um, hi, I'm Geran. Nice to meet you." His blush is nearly visible through the dirt. As easy as the warmth comes to Tayte, so too, do her smiles. This one is gentle, but the words, "Well met," are a courtesy, only, a distraction from her greater focus. "Might get yourselves checked out at the infirmary anyway. I hear," And it's said with the tone of one who's in 'the know,' "That the eggs are maybe a month away from hatching, maybe sooner. Wouldn't want a bad cough to keep you from being cleared to go onto the sands or to let it turn into pneumonia or something." Perhaps it's more than is strictly warranted by soot exposure, but she seems to take the whole candidacy and actually getting to stand on the sands thing seriously. "I'm Tayte," she adds, still looking at the candidates with an edge of concern. Lansha says, "Oh, that's so nice! Nice to meet you, Tayte, and thanks for your advice! I guess that would be a good idea, never know what's up there that I just inhaled. Wouldn't do to be coughing on the sands!" He goes about sweeping some of the soot into a dustpan and motions for Geran to do the same. Geran is staring at Tayte again. "Uh, yeah, nice." Lansha whacks the other boy with his broom, then rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Boys!" He looks over at Tayte, mirroring the woman's concern. "Oh, I hope we didn't ruin your sweater, and it's so pretty, too." He dumps the contents of his dustpan into a large burlap sack." Tayte hasn't come around the chair again, still using it to block much of her outfit from any future harm, though her torso and head are easily visible from where she stands with her fingers spreading across the chair's back. If she notices Geran's stare, she doesn't let on, but offers him the same friendly smile that goes Lansha's direction. At mention of the sweater, her brows knit and she looks down, checking the ruffled edge and along the detailed cables that run down over the shoulders and to the ribbed bottom edge. "It looks as though it'll survive. Which is a relief," She admits with an amused curl of her lips, "After all, this is its maiden voyage. I only finished it the other night and washed it and blocked it and--" All the things that go into a properly knitted garment. "But I suspect everyone is happier when they make it through a maiden voyage. Like you both, on the sands. Is this your first time standing?" She offers the question to both as she rounds the chair and brushes off the upholstery (not that it really needs it, but just in case). Lansha gasps a bit as he continues sweeping up the mess. "Ooh, you knitted it yourself? It's beautiful! I do a little knitting myself, but nothing that good, just a scarf." Now it's Geran's turn to roll his eyes behind Lansha's back, then he dumps another heaping dustpan-full into the sack. Lansha is oblivious to the other candidate. "Oh, yes, first time on the sands for me. I can't wait!" He bounces excitedly, grinning. "Me, too," Geran chimes in, with a confident smirk. "Gonna Impress a bronze, you'll see." Lansha snorts as he fills another dustpan with soot. "Blue all the way for you, kiddo. I know these things, you know. I'm never wrong." "Scarfs are nice projects," Tayte responds with a smile. "Especially around here where it gets, well, like this." She wrinkles her freckled nose as she refers to the wintry weather High Reaches is known for. She observes the exchange between the candidates with a bemused smile, before asking, "And you, Lansha? If blue for him, or maybe bronze," Who is she to crush this candidate's metallic dreams? "What color will be waiting for you on the sands?" Her curiosity is casual, but sincere. Geran sticks his tongue out at Lansha, but immediately regrets it and starts trying to spit the soot off his tongue. The two candidates work diligently and well together, despite their bickering, and soon have the hearth looking, if not spotlessly clean, then as near as they can get. Lansha dumps a final load into the sack and ties it closed with a piece of twine, then straightens up to turn back to Tayte. "Whew! Well, I was only teasing him. As for me, who knows?" He smiles a bit shyly. "Well, greens are my favorite, but I might not mind a blue. But of course, I'll go with whatever decision the hatchlings make, even if none choose me." He yawns and stretches. "Well, it was lovely meeting you, Tayte, and I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm filthy and exhausted and I don't want to shed soot on you and your beautiful sweater. I think I'll sit in the baths for, oh, the next three days or so." Geran nods. "That I can agree with you on." Tayte has a laugh, a smile, and a wave to send with the candidates about their evening business, and in fact, she doesn't linger. Soon enough, she's heading off into the inner caverns and beyond. |
Leave A Comment