Logs:That Brownriding Bastard
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| RL Date: 7 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, E'dre |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: E'dre is fearsome. Really. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hattie/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Slightly back-dated. |
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>---< Inner Caverns, Fort Weyr(#524RJs$) >-----------------------------------<
The Inner Caverns are a winding system of tunnels and caverns, both
natural and manufactured which shows in the smoothness of their walls.
Every commonly used tunnel and passageway has niches carved at regular
intervals to hold glows that are tended by the Weyr's residents. At the
heart of this labyrinth lies the Commons Cavern, the hub of the Weyr's
housing area for both residents and crafters. A tunnel halfway between
those Commons and the Living Cavern, that feeds the Weyr's population,
leads to the Hot Springs despite its access to the Bowl. A curving
passageway connects the main tunnel with the Infirmary.
The Glass Fountain, Fort's bar and restaurant, is around the corner and
down flight of stairs off of the Living Cavern. The best way to find the
beer is to follow the trail of tipsy folks on their way home, or the
echoes of clinking glass and conversation. Well marked with a bold arrow
carved into the rock, a broad passageway dives nearly straight from the
heart of the caverns and down to the unloading area and beyond to Tunnel
out of the Weyr.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Dee F 17 5'9" sturdy, dk. brown hair, hazel eyes 0s
E'dre M 42 5'7" slim, lean., dark brown hair, trimmed abov 4s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Training Room Living Cavern Bowl Commons The Glass Fountain Hot
Springs Infirmary Tunnel
>------------------------------------------< 7D 13M 37T I10, winter dusk >---< It's around dusk and most of the populus of Fort has settled in for the night, either grabbing dinner or spending time with family and friends away from work. E'dre's only recently wrapped up his own duties and he's still dressed in his riding leathers, which seem to aid in giving warmth more than a sweaty discomfort with the time of season. He's bustlin through the inner caverns without looking, mumbling to himself as he flips through a handful of reports in his grasp. It'd be an easy place for someone to bump into him the way he is so distracted. The evidence of Dee's day has been surrendered to the baths, to the laundry, and the only remainder upon her person is the knit brow of thought. Her skirt is an ankle-length, sensible wool affair and this evening, at least, her pair of sweaters seem complementary even if they make her frame bulkier than the usual sturdy it naturally is. As is her wont when not on a particular aim or mission, she too is moving without really looking at her surroundings, though hers a sort of daydreaming wander. It is, therefore, inevitable, that in this space where so many bodies traverse that Dee's side is angled to (entirely accidentally) bump substantial into the Weyrsecond's as they move in opposite directions. Thwack! E'dre collides into Dee without anyone the wiser to stop the travesty. His records fly out around them and are easily trampled on the others who are passing by without another thought. "Back off!" E'dre barks, making his way towards the ground to retrieve those records. His glare is quick and hot as he looks for the culprit whose done him the dishonor of slamming into him. His eyes narrow on the candidate before him as he stands and holds the records close to his chest. "Canddidate," he growls, glancing around as the caverns now seem devoid of anyone to stop him from snarling further. He manages to find some restraint as he says nothing further. "Biscuits!" Dee swears. Yes, swears. The tone is there, the word... well. "Sorry!" is offered even before she sees the knot, starting to bend to try to help with the records, only to recoil as he comes back up. Her hands somehow manage to find one another against her chest, almost a lady-like pose (wholly accidentally, to be sure), wide hazel eyes blinking at him, as she stammers a, "I'm so sorry, sir, I wasn't looking where I was going-" as if this might somehow help. "Is there-- Can I help? Did you get all the papers?" Her eyes leave his face to dart about just in case she can answer that question for herself. E'dre is simply too tired. Absolutely too tired for any of this interaction. His face registers his fatigue as his aggravation recedes with a puffed out sigh. "It's fine, don't worry, I'll figure it out later. I'll just--," he pauses, glancing down at the records and then up at her once more. Speculative. "What're you doing rushing around here without looking where you're going?" It's not a hostile question. He might sound almost curious. Only.. his reputation of being a boar with candidates may make it seem otherwise. Dee's hands slide together down from her chest and slightly away, in front of her middle, but still touching so she can twist her fingers together in an unconsciously nervous movement. Her eyes are drawn back to his face as he speaks, then follow his to the papers before looking almost startled to find his back on her and her inadvertently meeting them. One isn't supposed to look a boar in the eyes, are they? Or is that a bull? Possibly, it's just bronzeriders, but maybe brownriders with big knots count too. "Honestly, sir, I have a bad habit of thinking deep thoughts in busy places," probably also in quiet ones, "and I just wasn't paying attention. I was thinking about something Weyrwoman Hattie said and trying to--" It's here she realizes she might be providing too much information to what was probably a simple question and she breaks off looking a little sheepish and a little awkward at once. "Are you sure there isn't something I can do? Re-order the hides? They don't happen to have page numbers, do they?" That would be convenient, wouldn't it? "They don't come numbered," E're's answer is bordering on a laugh that he's trying very hard to conceal. That fatigue must be leaking towards silliness as Dee's entire persona doesn't seem to draw any further anger from the brownrider. He jerks his head to the left, indicating they should move out of the way of the traffic bustling by. He glances towards his hides and then back to Dee. "What did the Weyrwoman tell you, Candidate...?" he trails off, awaiting her to fill in her own name. He certainly is not the sort to bother to learn them on his own. "Dee," the candidate fills in without hesitation as she steps in the direction indicated, distracted with a mindfulness for the traffic now. It's probably what has her saying, "Er, on the roster, Dahlia, I'm sure, but Dee." The fingers of one hand find the tips of a few dark locks to tug and pass between them - more nervousness seeking escape through her hands. "It wasn't so much what she told me as how she looked." Briefly, the teen looks a little uncomfortable, but then, this is the Weyrsecond, so isn't he to be trusted? Decidedly so. "We were speaking of the regrets a rider can have, and I told her it seemed like she had it all. Being a rider, a mother, a weyrmate," not to mention all the special things inherent in the color of her lifemate, "and she just looked so--" Dee searches for the word and doesn't look happy with her choice when she says, "Sad." E'dre folds his arms in front of him as he finds a casual lean against a nearby wall. He listens with his chin dipped down towards his chest. He looks thoughtfully back up at her as he lifts a brow, "It is always easier to look outside of another's life and find reason for envy or to believe the other 'has it all'. Everyone has their own personal battles and regrets. She has reason to be sad," he reminds the younger woman, tone bordering on chiding, "with the recent hatching and that green. The Weyrwoman has a lot of responsibility to bear at all times. As a rider, a mother, and a weyrmate. Responsibility can weigh heavily on someone." He purses his lips briefly as he shakes his head and pushes off of the wall. He seems prepared to go and then pauses, looking to her once more. "Why do you want to be a rider? Because you think it such a grander life than the one you already have?" "Yes," is said almost as a sigh, a heavy heart-felt one, "the green." Dee's expression shows briefly how that tragedy has affected her; there's a part of her still grieving. She doesn't speak to forestall his departure and her brows lift slightly in surprise when he asks the question instead. "I would want to be a rider," she must tell herself, "if it kept that from happening again. I like being an apprentice," she confesses quietly. "Did you like what you did before you Impressed, sir?" is asked with genuine interest and curiosity, her eyes studying his face as if it might tell as much as any answer he gives. "We could've had hundreds on the Sands and all of those gathered in the tiers and she still might not have found her match," E'dre answers quietly, glancing around to see if any are watching their conversation. He seems satisfied that little to no notice is being given the them. He brushes his fingers through his hair in an absent way as he swings his gaze back towards Dee. "If you like being a crafter, stay one," is his blunt delivery, "I was a tailor before I Impressed Wroth. The entire time I was a candidate I thought it a rather silly joke and very unlikely I'd walk away with a dragon. And here I stand," he waves his hand to indicate the Weyr as a whole. "I was good at what I did and kept up my craft after my weyrling graduation. I only gave it up because I could no longer find the time to make dresses." He shrugs and then resettles a few of the hides in his pile. "What is it you are apprenticed to?" Dee was almost definitely going to say something other than the surprised, "You made dresses?" that pops out in spite of whatever better judgment she must surely have somewhere. It could be that the, "That sounds complicated," is really where she was going with that; it sounds believable enough. "Did you run out of time when you got a big knot-- er, promotion, or was it before then?" She wonders, wide eyes seeking answers, filing those she receives for review. "I thought, maybe in the interval, a person could do both, be useful at both." There's a twist of her fingers in her hair before they drop to the side, a touch of an embarrassed blush for the idea on her cheeks. "I'm a farmcrafter, sir." She doesn't contest the matter of the green; in fact, save for a slight nod, she doesn't linger on the topic now. E'dre's smile is almost boyish as Dee's reaction draws forth a humor-laced response, "I have an eye for the design and the lay of a dress. It isn't complicated so much as time consuming. A finely made, hand-stitched garment, with a layer of tulle and additional skirting, bead-work, bodice.. fittings. Well. I used to make the time for it even with my dragonriding duties." He shrugs, nonplussed by the 'complicated' aspect of his former career. Whatever he might've been thinking Dee's craft was, the farmcrafter draws a surprised lift to his brows. "A farmcrafter? Indeed. An interval does lend itself time to pursue your own passions, I imagine, if you aren't tapped into a demanding wing. It'd depend on your dragon and you. A lot changes when you Impress. More than you could anticipate for, anyway." He sighs and shifts his footing again, looking off behind Dee's shoulder. "I really should get going," he tells her, "Don't tell anyone I was nice to you, all right? I've got my reputation to hold on to. 'That Brownriding Bastard' has been well earned, y'know?" He winks at her and continues on his way. Dee listens to the brownrider's talk about dressmaking with rapt attention, and a touch of wonderment that speaks to her youth and inexperience. Her lips part to speak, but then she's distracted by his assessment of her own craft, nodding mutely confirmation before her brow furrows just enough to show she's taking that advice and filing it away too. The last instruction has the girl's smile curling into place with an untamed appreciation, the kind of smile a child might have for sharing the secret of an extra cookie before dinner. "No, sir, of course not." There's only a slight beat's pause before she says, just before he's out of range to hear, "You remind me of my master," and in this foreign place, being reminded of the familiar and missed is probably altogether as welcome as his advice had been. She won't tell anyone, but if anyone sees the smile as she goes or the childish bounce in the step that takes her out of the cavern... well, that can't be helped. |
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