Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr
The kitchens, evening. Jolie seemed to have waited until the kitchens cleared before she descened on the place, for she's here - sitting /on top/ of the table rather than in on one of the benches with her dirty-looking backpack slouched in one of the chairs surrounding it. With a steamy bowl in hand, she's making spooning the stew a serious mission as the two things have her undivided attention. The casual crouch over her bowl shows the lack of concern for anyone coming into the kitchen at this late hour, though to the observer it's probably more due to the sheathed knife attached at her hip on the side. Smelling of the stables, she doesn't seem to care that her backside is dirtying the table, either. How fun for those that have to clean it.
Looking rather like she's in her own little world, Ebeny's path through the kitchens seems quite random, yet there must be a kind of order to it somewhere, for she retrieves one item after another from one place, then the next, piling them all on one of the clean counters available, not all that far away from Jolie's perch. Flour, check; butter, check and she's off again, a warm if somewhat absent smile spared the younger woman on her way past. A few moments later and back she comes, carrying a small container of something which gets set down next to everything else already retrieved. Perhaps it's the manner in Jolie is consuming that stew that has her asking, "You okay?" over one shoulder.
Jolie is quick to note the arrival of the wandering woman despite her focus on her stew, and she pauses spoon just a fraction of the way to her bowl to watch her. Each item retrieved gets her scrutiny, and then once they're all put together not far from where she sits, the question locks her eyes to Ebeny. Swallowing the mouthful of stew at the question, she nods as she lifts the bowl briefly and answers with, "Good stew, this." Spoon hits the bottom of the bowl with a clanking sound before she leans back and sets it down. With her meal done, her attention falls to the items gathered first, then to Ebeny herself. Leaning forward a little to study the ingredients more on the counter as she wipes her dirty hand across her mouth, "What're ya cooking there?" Jolie, nosy.
"I'll take your word for it," the greenrider replies, still looking back out over one shoulder, a quick smile flashed Jolie's way in the process. Perhaps thinking it rude to converse in such a fashion, after a quick mental count of ingredients retrieved (a nod at each in turn to betray such thinking), Ebeny turns round to face her, leaning back against her chosen counter. "Biscuits," she replies. "I had my heart set on a cake, but it's a little more difficult to get from A to B and biscuits are easier to hand over to young children, besides. Cake tends to wind up everywhere, at least with my daughter and nephew." She shrugs a bit helplessly after that explanation and adds, "I'm Ebeny. Green Laurienth's," though doesn't offer a hand.
"Jolie," and the stablehand /is/ offering her hand over across the distance, though it's likely expecting the woman not to take it. "Work the stables," if the beast smell didn't give it away. Her gaze falling on the ingredients put together now, "Ya can still make a cake," she adds, rocking back on the table and propping herself up with both hands as her legs cross infront of her. "Want any help? Though, I warn..." and there's low chuckle here in the pause, probably ominous-sounding. Her smile twisting, "I'm not much good in the kitchen. Usually good at eatin', though. I can help hold those ingredients while ya cook, though." Which...is probably not a good idea, if her dirty hands are any indication. She knows it, and she shrugs to that. "So yer a dragonrider, huh? Second one I've talked to since being here."
Hand there, Ben's not going to be so impolite as to ignore it and so takes the offered hand without hesitation. "Well met," she says, perfectly genuine with it. "I used to work there myself. Still check-in sometimes; I know most of the runners that are about." She doesn't seem at all concerned by the idea of any lack of skill in the kitchen, perhaps amused more than anything. "If you'd like to help, you're very welcome to," the greenrider declares, pausing only to add, "Though you should probably wash up a little first. Hands, you know." Which is what she looks to be heading to do herself, steps starting to carry her over to the nearest sink. "I've been a rider since not long off my twenty-fifth turn. Who was the first rider you spoke with?"
Hand is taken, her rough fingertips brushing Ebeny's firmly before letting go. "Well met yerself," Jolie returns in good nature, sitting up more at the next bit. "Ya worked the stables too? How long ago was that?" To the runners themselves, there's a half-hitched shrug and a wry, "Well, I'm learnin' them myself. That Sho fella's been teachin' them to me." When the greenrider agrees to the help, only then does the stablehand slides herself off the table, and lets her booted feet hit the ground loudly. She wipes her hands off on her trousers, then gives Ebeny a little sheepish smile as she goes to the sink indicated. "Oh. Right. Just came from the stables, so..." she's putting action to words, running the water over her hands and moving aside to give the greenrider some room. To the last there's a little cough, "Twenty five, eh? Ya don't look it. Ehhh, ah....don't remember her name much," she's hedging, shrugging again as her eyes stay on her hands as she washes. "I'm not good with names. I'll probably forget yours by the time I leave here, baby. Not yer face, though." It's a bald face tease, and one more observant enough would probably catch the lie couched in it.
"A little under four turns ago," Ebeny responds, after a moment's thought to make rough calculations. "I'm less than a couple of turns off thirty now, so I probably really don't look twenty-five anymore, more's the pity," she jokes, far from serious and somewhat self-deprecating. With the water running, she begins to wash her hands, checking under her nails and everything, though they seem perfectly clean. Teasing draws bright laughter from her, no comment made and the subject of names and faces not touched again; it's not clear if she's caught the lie, yet that she leaves well enough alone might convince one way more than the other. "You're new here then, if you're learning?" she asks. "The runners themselves are quite quick to learn; they've each got their own personality. Little quirks. Like people."
"Ya look good enough," Jolie says, on that jokes, her smile a little genuine and somewhat charming before she removes her hands from under the sink. "/I/ look older than 19 turns, right?" And she poses, hands falling to her hips as she turns her weathered face this way and that with dramatic flair for the greenrider before the act is dropped. "Don't lie, either," she teases, stepping forward near the ingredients with her hands clasp together before her. "Heard-tell it I'm good with detectin'. As for me...." she pauses, grabbing the nearest towel to wipes her hands clean with. "I'm a new one, yep. Not new to the stables, though. Been familiar with them back Keogh way. I kinda like being around the runners alot," she admits, hands dried and setting the towel back on the counter. "Not too pushy like people. Like to do their own thing. I can relate." Eyes going to the counter of things, "What ya want me to help with?" she asks now, cleaner hands at the ready.
"You look like you could be twenty, perhaps twenty-one, but no older," the greenrider answers thoughtfully, seemingly taking study of Jolie very seriously. Certainly Ebeny sounds to be considering the matter enough to not take the trouble to lie, her features all too easy to read, besides. "Do you /want/ to look older?" she asks curiously, tilting her head slightly. With that - hands washed and dry - she turns from the sink and takes steps back to her claimed counter, where she nudges each of the ingredients like she's checking that they're still all there. "Runners are better than people sometimes. They're good listeners; should be listened to, too," she says more quietly, smiling faintly. Jolted back to the matter at hand, she retrieves a bowl from beneath the counter and suggests, "You could sort out the butter? Use a fork and fluff it all up a bit; it should shade paler too." Using sight alone, she guesses at the weight and slices some of the butter away, handing it over in the retrieved bowl.
At Ebeny's assessment of her, Jolie tilts her head down a little to inspect herself since she can't really inspect her own face. "Ya think?" she asks, brushing her hand down her clothes and hitching up her falling belt more before looking Ebeny's way. "I do, actually," she admits to the greenrider in wanting to older. "Why not? Not /too/ old, I mean, but old enough to be taken seriously. But then, guess ya don't need to be older to be taken seriously, right?" At the counter, she leans her back against it languidly and sets to watching the other woman with the ingredients with a mild interest. "Runners are good at winning marks, too," she adds with a practical nod. "Ever been to the races?" But then she's taking the bowl of butter rather awkwardly, shifting her weight so that both hands are readily accessible to the task at hand. Grabbing a fork, "These, uh, biscuits are for yer kids?" she asks while putting fork to butter - or rather, she's stabbing at the butter with said fork with the bowl in the crook of one arm and doing all manner of things that has nothing to do with fluffing it up.
"I think if you're serious enough to want to be taken seriously... isn't that kind of enough?" Ebeny hazards, shrugging one shoulder. "Doesn't matter what age you are, really," she agrees. "I've never been to the races," the greenrider admits somewhat ruefully, flashing a brief smile back at Jolie. "You'd think I'd have got round to it by now, but I haven't. I imagine they must be interesting, for all sorts of different reasons." She sets about weighing out the sweetener and flour, sifting the latter into another bowl. "I imagine my daughter and nephew will have more than a few between them, yes," is confirmed, just as she looks up again and ceases sifting, balancing that whole affair temporarily to observe the stabbing of the butter. "Try dragging the fork through it again and again," she suggests. "Kind of like whisking but... not. Then we can add the sweetener."
"I like being taken seriously," Jolie states, adding a rather serious and even glance towards Ebeny that is so unlike the easy manner she has been with her thus far. It's a look that has just a flash of mysterious danger, detailing rough quality of her face and hands, before it vanishes completely. The crooked smile returns, along with laughter as if it were an act as well. "So I agree," she continues on, acting as if the pause had never happened while she stabs at the butter. "And ya should definitely hit the races, one day. Got into the best brawl with a tanner at his stall once. Got free bubbly pies. Made some good marks off this runner named Cosie. /Good/ night." The butter continues to get stabbed, poor thing, until Ebeny makes that suggestion and she stops. "Oh, uh..." she looks down at the mess she made in the bowl and tries again now, this time dragging the fork through the butter rather roughly. Delicate with hands, she is not. She blinks at the mention of whisking, that particular word going over her head as she works. "How old are they?" she asks on children, curious to the last, almost child-like herself despite, well....the fact that she's not.
For all that look, Ebeny's expression doesn't alter much at all, at least not so far as to convince of it stirring any troubling thoughts to life; she might even seem just the tiniest bit blank in response. Any absence in her gaze is banished when laughter sounds, a brief giggle from her echoing after when she turns to sift the last of the flour into the other bowl. "Nothing wrong with that," she breathes out. Talk of brawling has her looking confused for a short time, though no remark is made on it and she opts for, "It might be fun to place marks on the runners. I'd hope working with them might give you an edge, but you'd have to be able to /see/ them first," instead. Her lips twitch. "I guess... maybe I'd want to own a racing runner. Be involved that way," she admits, rolling her eyes a little at herself and the likelihood of that. After weighing out the sweetener, she leaves it in a cup on the edge of the counter. "You can add that and mix it together when you're ready," she offers, making sure everything else is in order. "My daughter will be two at the end of the turn and my nephew is six. Do you have a lot of family?"
Talk of runners has Jolie far more interested, her face perking up at the mention of owning runners. "Working with them does, yep," she agrees, nodding firmly on that. "It's why I hardly lose a race. I mean, /sometimes/ I'm wrong, but I'm usually right." And being right is all she focuses on. "I know someone that owns a runner," she admits, a little pep in her voice as she works on the butter. At least it's starting to look a little fluffy now. "He use to let me in the stalls just before the race. Yer very right about being able to see them beforehand. Some runners look pretty good'n'healthy from afar, but it's when yer up close and personal..." and she's giving a significant look at the greenrider, winking. "But some races don't let ya back there unless ya own. Y'should /totally/ think about owning a racing runner!" This idea she likes, sending Ebeny a genuine smile that shows off a dimple. "If ya serious about it, maybe I can help, there. Y'know that guy? Kaxon's his name. He always knows what runner's for sale, though he always says it's better to rear yer own racer rather than buy someone else's. I dunno. I mean, a racer's a racer, right?" She then stops her stirring, looks down at it and goes for the sweetner. Once it's unceremoniously dumped into the bowl, she resumes her raking-swirling motion. "Really young, huh?" she notes on the kids, nodding at that a few times. "Nice. Ahhh naw, not a lot of family for me." A shrug. "Just me, my da and my older brothers. All guards. Haven't seen them in turns, though." Another shrug to that, though its non-chalance seems forced with having not seen them.
"Usually right is good enough for me," Ebeny chirps, shaking drops of liquid from a glass bottle into the little pool of another that she's already got at the bottom of another mug. "I guess it's about who you know, to be able to do that kind of thing. Some part of me would want to make sure the runners were actually /healthy/ and well-treated as well as, you know, checking out which one looks like a winner." At that wink, she smirks, a touch silly around the edges. "I'm not sure I'd have the marks to buy a racer, to be honest. And then there's board and equipment and..." But, Faranth help her, she really does look like she likes the idea too. "And bloodlines and defects and outright /lies/ to think about when buying one in the first place. Probably prefer to raise one but... it's not as if I have the time, really." Laughing softly, she shakes her head, yet still says, "If you know where to get some information and prices, however..." in a manner that just screams she knows she shouldn't even think about it all. Sobering a bit, she goes on, on the subject of family, "I hope you get to see them if you'd like to. There's always the chance of getting a lift somewhere around here," sincerely. After observing mixing for a moment, she nods towards her bowl of flour. "When that's all done, we need to put the two together."
Jolie rumbles a chuckle at the first, warm in its deliverance. "There's a whooooole lotta cheats in that kind of business," she notes just a bit sagely, and with a hint of that danger that surfaced before, sending Ebeny a knowing look. "Seen more runner sabotage than I care to admit. Gotta have a good eye for those kinda things when it comes to buying, and if ya don't..." there's a half-shrug. "Well. S'what ya got /me/ for. I can spot'em. Not sayin' Kaxon's a cheat, just..." she lets that trail, quiet for a bit as she inspects her own work. Other than some of it spilling out of the bowl, she seems to be doing better. At least, in her eyes. When it sounds like Ebeny is really considering the racing runners, she looks up with a glint in her eyes and a ready-smile. "Oh, I got ya," she promises fervently, nodding to her in earnest. "I'll see about getting word out to him about prices and the like. See if maybe he's got a good young one that could be raised up somewhere. If not /here/, then, somewhere." She doesn't seem worried about the 'where'. "If ya get the marks, I can take care of the raisin', too! We can be a team, give it some bad-ass name...whatever ya like. I'm down." She stops stirring again and eyes the bowl of flour, adding with a face "Ya wanna put the flour in?" and she holds out her bowl. "Let me do it and it's bound to end up all over the kitchen rather within the bowl. Knowing me." As to family, she's quiet a moment, some guardedness finally stealing out into her gaze as she regards the greenrider a moment before blinking. Her bowl lowering a little, "It's alright," she says evenly. "Kinda split on bad terms. Don't think they'll want to see me." Head jerks a bit and it's probably not a surprise that the subject shifts. "Where're ya from, anyway?"
Reaching out to claim the bowl with murmured thanks, Ebeny has to balance it against the counter as a fit of giggles claims her, her head shaking even as she laughs. "One step at a time, huh?" she teases, though there's enough seriousness in there somewhere. "If you could put the word out and we'll go from there, right? Then the rest can be sorted if it looks like it's turning into a plan in action." Her attention still mostly on Jolie, she starts to set about folding butter-mixture and flour together, adding a little of the liquid every now and then. "My weyrmate was part of the Beastcraft when he was younger - runners - but he might think I've finally lost a marble or two if I come home and announce the purchase of a runner. Though it might sort out the 'buy me a pony' phase of things if my daughter ever goes through that," she explains, smile still plastered across her face. "We'll see. I think I like this idea a little too much." Her head tilts again and she takes a breath, perhaps about to leave alone talk of bad terms, but says only, "...Sometimes... you have to try," quietly, then seemingly content to move on. "I was born here. Most of my family were - mother's side, anyway. Nobody seems to know who my father is. Laurienth was Hatched here too, so it's really... home."
Jolie doesn't match the giggles, but she /does/ send the greenrider a jaunt smirk. "Sounds golden to me," she says to that, hands rubbing together now that the bowl is free from her. "Been meaning to look up Kaxon, anyway, so....two birds, one stone." She watches the work Ebeny does now when Ebeny has her attention on her, the stablehand looking pleased at this possible venture. Brows lift at the mention of a weyrmate, and she takes to leaning against the counter once more. "Y'know, ya can convince him about the benefits of having one," she notes, her teeth showing into a smile. "Which can be...profits. Lots of it. But, y'know, ya dragonriders might not have all the time for that, so, yer lucky ya ran into /me/," and she nods pointedly to this with a hand stealing to her chest. "I can take it out, get to the races. Get my cut from the profits. Could be a nice business." She's all about convincing, flashing that charming little grin with the dimple before she finally lets off of it and adds with a chuckle, "Well, up to you, rider. Find me in the stables if yer convinced and I'll try to hook it up." Which that's what it's all about, right? Ebeny's words on family does give the younger woman pause, lips twisting a little as she considers the small words given before frowning and giving a mechanical nod since she says nothing. "Nice," she continues on, her face clearing as she looks over at her. "Born here! Then ya must know all the ins and outs of this place, eh? I bet ya do." Pause. "Dunno my ma well, either," she hesitates in giving when Ebeny mentions her father. "She bailed when I was too young. Think she didn't like being around my strict guard of a father, y'know?"
It's not long before there's dough (of the biscuit variety) being rolled out across the counter and a cutter being offered Jolie's way with a smile. "Want to have a go?" Apart from that aside, Ebeny's focus does remain on the matter at hand, "Two birds, one stone," echoed needlessly. "Well, let me know when you know of a runner to look at and some kind of price, huh?" she suggests. "Then there'll be some calculations and logistics to think of and we'll see where we are then. I can't make any promises, but I'd like to get at least as far as looking. And hey, if nothing comes of it, then I'll pay you for time put in - how about that?" With her own cutter, she starts pressing out individual circles. "Hopefully I know the place as well as I might," the greenrider remarks, shoulders twitching in a little shrug. "I'm sorry about your mother," is offered over sincerely. "Would you want to know her well, if you could?" she questions, apprehensive for a moment, maybe out of fear of making too personal an enquiry. "It's just... I mean, I've found I don't need to know my father to know... me. I know some people really need to know all about where they're from though." And there go circles onto a baking tray.
Ohh. Cutting. The beaming smile that plasters Jolie's face seems to suggest that /this/ is right up her alley. Moving forward as she takes up the offered cutter, "That I will, Ebeny," she agrees to the terms easily, watching her with the cutter first before putting her own into the dough. At least at /this/ she seems to be less messy. "I'm good with just looking. Might be fun. Kaxon's a good sort, too. He's not...sleazy like those other types. Ya'll see, if ya meet him." A knowing nod and smile is given in emphasis to that. A few more presses of the cutter makes a few more circles into the dough, though, one or two look pretty raggedy. "We'll figured it out," Jolie doesn't seem at all worried about a little thing like finding the place, the non-chalance given so easily. "And well....about my mother...nothing to be sorry about. She didn't want us - /that/ much I can figure. I mean, what mother leaves her own /children/ behind?" The cut circles get passed over for the baking tray, stealing a guarded glance Ebeny's way before continuing. "I get it though. Needing to know yerself. I think, if she stuck around, I'd be more....girly?" She makes a face at this, contemplative on the words she just said before shrugging. "Yeah. Girly. I didn't want to know her before, but, lately...could be nice to run into her. Got some things I'd want to say. Some of it not too nice. If she'd wanted to know me."
Ebeny inclines her head to acknowledge agreement, but otherwise doesn't speak of it aloud again and simply smiles, evidently not troubled by the sight of raggedy circles. "I'll want to meet him yes," she says easily, no particular weight behind her words. "And I'm sure we'll figure it out," is agreed positively; innocently, even, whether it's real in that moment or not. She sneaks a glance back at Jolie when circles are passed over, something knowingly sympathetic in her gaze, but all she murmurs is, "...I don't know. I can't understand it - women giving up or leaving their children. I like to believe that they think they have no choice, but... it's just making excuses for them, really." Taking in a breath, she holds it for a second or two. "Sometimes mothers aren't the women you expect them to be. For what it's worth, I think it's fair enough to want to say some not so nice things to her. Otherwise... well, they have to learn things too, right?" There's something like regret there for a fraction of a second, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared and she's reaching for the tray to put into one of the ovens. "I should go check on my nephew before I clean all this up," she says once that's done and no burnt fingers for the trouble. "Thanks for your help, Jolie," is uttered brightly. "If you come by here in the morning, I'll see that there're some of those," a nod towards the biscuits in their oven, "waiting for you.
"Then it will be!" Jolie seems positive on that front - on meeting Kaxon - once the circles are all passed over. The quiet words over mother abandoning their children has her in quiet reflection herself, the stablehand leaning against the counter once more as she consider those words. Frowning lightly, "I guess," she seems to agree, studying the greenrider with veiled interest now. "But there's always a choice, right? They always have a choice. She just...didn't choose me." Simple as that. She turns then to watch the cut dough get put inside the ovens, "Well, I'll probably never see her again," she says lightly, wiping the frown from her face despite the serious words. "She'll likely not even know where I am. If she's still alive." Pause. "Thanks for /letting/ me help, at yer own risk," she adds now that the preparations are done, her smile infectious as she straightens up and moves over towards her backpack. "I'll be sure to come by here in the mornin' before I turn into the stables. It was a rather nice chat, Ebeny." She bends to grab up a backpack strap and straightens up to sling it over one shoulder. She turns and makes some notion of cleaning her side up, grabbing the empty bowl of stew with its spoon and passing it over towards the sink. "See ya around sometime?" she sends her way, preparing to make her exit as she does.
"Yes... I think so," Ebeny answers quietly, of mothers and choices, not straying any further down that path than to look Jolie over without voicing the concern that might be readable in green eyes. She manages to shrug it all away though, not literally and only vocally this time, back to cheery and bright; genuine despite how swiftly it vanishes and resurfaces in her manner. "Of course. Just ask for someone's dragon to yell for Laurienth if you need to find me," she says, smiling broadly and lifting one hand in a quick wave. Then? She heads off to make sure Rysiart isn't running riot through the caverns and get back before any of the kitchen staff think she's left that counter in a mess. Or left biscuits to burn.
"Will do, Ebeny," Jolie lifts her hand as well, going in the opposite direction. "Will do." Then the stablehand is off with that trusty backpack, going to who knows where and doing shells-knows-what.
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