Logs:The Help and the Hungry
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| RL Date: 26 May, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, E'ten, G'vri, Isidro |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two bronzeriders are hungry, two others are helping make food appear as if by magic, and something about Hematite and also a desk that was a mess. |
| Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 11, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Mardra/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions |
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>---< Living Cavern, Fort Weyr(#513RIJMas$) >--------------------------------<
Fort's enormous Living Cavern is a vast, echoing space, with deep set
windows carved into the outer wall to let in light and fresh air. Large
enough to house the entire human population of the Weyr with plenty of
room to spare, the most common use of the living cavern is as a communal
eating and gathering space. Long tables with benches usually line the main
part of the cavern with a table set aside for the Weyrleaders on a raised
dais, as well as other smaller tables set along the walls for quieter
dining. Tapestries depicting historic moments in the Weyr's history and
scenery from the coverage area decorate the walls and lend the space a
warmer feel than bare stone.
To the east, a large doorway leads out to the Bowl, with a sturdy metal
door that can be closed during inclement weather or Threadfall. The
Nighthearth is tucked away in a little alcove near the door. The large
main hearth is used for cooking and for heat, though chairs are often
pulled up nearby for the Weyr's elderly to enjoy the heat. A swinging door
not far from the hearth leads into the Kitchen that shares the wall behind
the hearth. To the west, a passage opens up into the Weyr's Inner Caverns. Dinner is in full swing in the living cavern, many of the tables full of riders and other weyrfolk get their fill from the serving tables that seem to rapidly find themselves with empty plates. Tonight, Dee is just part of the magic - a cog in the great machine of the working Weyr. Her white threaded knot marks her unmistakably a candidate rather than your everyday server, though she carries two trays to replenish some of the best items available on this evening's spread. She moves with limited grace, grace of one used to carrying loads, but not of having experience with just this type of burden. An inordinate amount of care is placed on the way she carries the trays and how she avoids people - perhaps there's already been a clean-worthy incident to teach her the importance of attention in a busy cavern. If E'ten ever finds his way into being early for dinner, it would be an odd day indeed. Even with Adiulth's urging. As it stands, the bronzerider makes his way into the caverns with both gloves being tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket with a quick side step to avoid a pair of younger riders who were on their way out. With something of a grin, he approaches closer to the sidebar where the promise of food still exists. Even if it's a finely tuned movement. The sight of at least one white knot catches his attention, stepping into line with a plate gathered up in one hand quickly enough. Despite being a relatively new, permanent, face in the Weyr, G'vri has made some friendly acquaintances among the wings. One such catches him near the serving tables, drawing him into conversation while the young bronzerider eyes the food that's well within smelling distance. It's cruel. But G'vri manages with some grace, his gaze wandering enough to note Dee in particular, one of few more than passingly familiar faces. "Excuse me, I think I see someone I was supposed to meet," he lies before slipping away to get into line so he can eat. No special knot for Isidro, which of course means that he's been getting a lot more practice of late with the efficient flow of things into and out of the kitchen. Maybe not graceful, but nimble, which is to say, he manages to accumulate quite a few plates while he makes his way down between tables. Empty ones, or at least mostly empty; balancing them is made more difficult by the fact that there are scraps and crusts and bones left behind. Back to the kitchen, then out with more, that's how it goes, isn't it? Use the time you've accumulated to dawdle at the serving table? Maybe not. "I'm sure we've hit the halfway by now," all cheery, to Dee of the inordinate care. "Buck up, almost there." "If I get yelled at again by Mardra-" Dee trails off meaningfully to the kitchen worker, raising her brows as if he might have particular familiarity with just why one should not want that. It's probably an excuse as to why she looks like she might need to buck up. The look doesn't last long for as she slides in next to E'ten with her last serving plate to trade it for an empty one with a pleasant and respectful, "Excuse me, sir," her smile blossoms, catching in that look no-longer-Southern bronzerider. "Evening, Rider G'vri. Good weather for flying?" She asks this more of the familiar bronzerider, but her smiling glance to the other includes E'ten in the question as well. "Evening." Spoken to both G'vri and Dee alike, it's not entirely certain 'who' got there first as the movement is caught by dark eyes even as the corner of his lips turn upwards in what would be reasons between himself. And maybe his dragon. "It was well enough, given our duties for the day. But if it keeps up, it'll be windy come morning," E'ten imparts with a quick glance at Isidro before he moves ever so closer to the sliced meats ahead. "Colder than I'd like," G'vri says without thinking very hard about the fact that it got relatively pleasant out at some point. By local standards. "Evening," he adds to both E'ten and Isidro, the latter earning a brief grin. "Sid! I invited you up to see my desk now that it's all fixed, didn't I?" No, he didn't. But he obviously meant to, so he'll just do it right now. "You should've seen it before, Dee. It was a mess." A few scolding clicks of the tongue. "You won't get yelled at if you just keep up and don't drop anything down someone's front." Isidro says this, of course, like it's the easiest possible thing in the world. Like riding a bicycle, except of course none of them actually know how to ride bicycles. So... maybe just like riding a bicycle. But: More interesting things to dawdle about, now. "I would have remembered that kind of invitation. Unless the last time you issued it was in the middle of dinner service. I'm working." Totally working. Isidro is halfway perched on the serving table, although at least he's found a spot to lean that doesn't have a plate on it. "Haven't met you, have I?" Big smile for E'ten. "Apparently it's Sid, now." "Teach me and I shall learn," Dee replies to Isidro with humor that brightens her expression all the more. "Is G'--Rider G'vri giving you nicknames you don't like?" She glances toward G'vri; her mouth opens, only, in the moment before she speaks, her expression changes in a way that suggests she's not saying what she'd originally intended when she paraphrases, "A mess of a desk. Do you intend upon earning yourself a wingsecond knot here too?" The query is innocent and genuine curiosity where others privy to some of his history might emphasize the word 'earn.' E'ten receives her attention last but most lingeringly, following Isidro's example and offering, "I'm Dee, sir. Is there anything you're not seeing that I ought to get from the kitchen?" She's evidently the helpful sort. "What were your duties for the day, if you don't mind my asking?" follows soon after with some of that same interest. "You haven't been in Fort long, have you?" For anyone to call the current weather cold, it sticks out as poorly as a pink painted dragon - if those existed. "E'ten. Bronze Adiulth's rider and of Hematite wing. Have you been assigned anywhere yet," he asks, moving closer with a look between the three. "I have to admit that I haven't met the three of you before. Knots clearly indicating two that I should have met but it wasn't required." That, to Dee and Isidro. "But I see what I want to get. It's just a matter of getting close enough to..." With a show of plucking two pieces of meat with the nearby utensils, he finishes with, "Get what I want." "I wasn't suggesting you come immediately. I'm starving." And food is higher priority than Isidros when G'vri is starving. That's why he's going to take as much of it as he can pile on a plate before Dee earns a look that isn't unfriendly, but not quite as good-natured as usual. "Furthest thing from my mind, Dolly." Look, everyone's getting nicknames. Some are just older than others'. "I came with some of the kids from Southern, sir. My brother was among them." And he's a good older brother. "G'vri. Bronze Tovriath's." As for his wing assignment, "Not yet." The actual acquiring of food from the table he's almost-sitting on seems to remind Isidro of something approximating manners, and he rights himself. "Everybody should meet me; I'm amazing. Unfortunately, this isn't always the best job for meeting people. It does seem to involve being occupied at the most sociable times of day." Speaking of which, Isidro makes a show of consolidating the contents of two platters and picking up the empty one, like this was really a thing that needed doing right now. "Oh, me neither," the young woman volunteers to E'ten, "But well met, sir. I'm from Southern, like-" G'vri, who's already volunteered his origins and who gets a scolding look so fierce that it might make a kitten yawn in obliviousness from Dee at the use of that nickname. Dee shifts with her tray more out of the way lest she hinder any hungry men from their meals. "I've heard Hematite has a reputation," she volunteers, as if to roll the conversation some way that might assist G'vri in his assignment-ing, if he even gets a say. Dee holds up her larger tray to Isidro, offering him further excuse for lingering and a place to deposit what he's pulled from the table. "But you do get to meet all the candidates, don't you?" There's something more than the casual in the inquiry, but the girl turns to place the tray down (with or without Isidro's donation) on the nearest table and leans (still within earshot) to collect some stray plates and cups left by diners some moments before. "Are you hoping for any wing over another, G'vri?" Moving on after piling on ample and enough meat to make up for missing lunch, E'ten moves on to the other vegetables with a brief nod to Isidro in thanks. It may be a lot for one person to carry but the flat surface remains balanced by the palm underneath. "You'll meet people. It may take time, but it'll happen. Anyways, various duties have their purpose besides bring long and drawn out. Not to mention, tedious." The mention of Hematite and their reputation finds the bronzerider's gaze settling near enough to Dee with a touch of seriousness in his tone, rather than the easy going nature from just mere seconds ago. "Whatever they say about us, there's no doubt that we complete our duties to the best of our ability. Besides, reputations are just that. Gossip and rumors, unless you're in the wing firsthand. Although, I do need to eat and get back. Not for evening drills but in case any assistance is needed cleaning up the mudslide." More than what's been done. "No, sir," G'vri assures E'ten. He doesn't have any preference over his assignment. A very innocent smile is flickered past Dee before the young bronzerider asks Isidro directly, "When do you get done with all of this? Or when do you have some free time? If you want to see it, I mean. I figured you should see the fruit of your labors." Even if they were very small fruits in the larger scheme of things. "Well, enough of them. But they're--you're--well, you know." Isidro makes a hand gesture that is not at all explanatory. Which he seems to realize a moment too late. "Awfully young, a lot of them. I don't think I ever quite realized how young Candidates tend to be. If you do the math, pretty sure that means an awful lot of the fighting forces during a Pass are teenagers." And he's juuuust far enough past being a teenager to find that unnerving, see. His platter goes onto Dee's tray, just there, and then he busies himself with another before telling E'ten, "Anyway, I know it has a purpose. Can't go letting you boys starve, can we?" G'vri, being more familiar, gets a clap on the shoulder at this, as though a demonstration. And, as an aside: "Soon as they stop sending food out, I can get a bite myself, then I'm free. No dishes tonight." "And-" Dee adds for G'vri's benefit to E'ten's words about his wing as though oblivious to his brief change in demeanor, "One of Hematite's bronzeriders can tell the future, so." Clearly this counts for a lot in the teen's book and she sounds entirely serious about it. "Dishes are what candidates are for, Mardra says," Dee sounds cheerfully amused about it though; she must be a glutton for hard work. She moves to heft her tray carefully. "Should we make bets whether I can get this to the kitchen without incurring Mardra's considerable wrath?" She quirks a playful smile at all there. Young? Yes. Yes, indeed. "Good!" G'vri will take that as Isidro's acceptance of invitation and it makes him grin at the other young man before he's turning with his plate to look for somewhere to sit. "You can come find me when you're done. Over there, I think." The bronzerider gestures to a slightly less populated area of the cavern. Before he goes, though, he says to Dee, "Maybe you ought to take more than one trip so you don't break anything or disturb any of these poor, innocent riders with a bunch of crashing." He, of course, is one of such riders. And then he's off to pick out an empty seat to enjoy his gathered food. That offer--Isidro has a critical eye on Dee as she's picking up the tray. "I think we might be better off not gambling on Mardra's good nature," he says, plucking a couple things back off of it again to lighten the load. "I'll come find you," reassurance to G'vri, before he starts off with those things for the kitchen in question. To Dee, finally, as he goes: "If I let you wreak havok, next thing I know she'll have me washing dishes again." Dee shoots a look at G'vri's back like she might actually be slightly ruffled, something akin to annoyance briefly showing in her face, but Isidro's words bring her hazel gaze back to the skinny man with a reluctant sigh. She watches as he takes things, "I suppose now isn't really the moment to suddenly become irresponsible," she admits though without apparent intention to elaborate. "Lead on, O-Knowledgeable-One," she assigns him a lengthier nickname before following in his wake - easier than forging her own path back to the kitchen. |
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