Logs:Unwanted Pastries
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| RL Date: 11 January, 2016 |
| Who: A'sran, Mirinda, Ninwayzan |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Mirinda doesn't want A'sran's pastries. Ninwayzan is new. |
| Where: Bowl Falls, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Taylor/Mentions |
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| Afternoon finds this morning's fog diminished somewhat and yet still very present; it's cool and dim and not especially pleasant outside, but fresh air is, in the end, fresh air. That, likely more than anything else, is what has brought Mirinda out-of-doors just after lunch, her figure cloaked and gloved, while booted feet carefully pick their way around the bowl's edge and towards the lake. She's a readily identifiable figure, even with that cloak, knot tidily presented at her shoulder, but for the moment her path is a singular one; she walks alone, expression pensive and a little pinched. Clad in a light jacket that's suitable enough for this temperature, Ninwayzan is venturing outside this afternoon in a walk with the journeyman he's studying under. Deep in discussion the pair barely realizes where they've ended up at. "....and then the wheat in the flour rises." Ninwayzan's soft baritone voice carries somewhat. Stopping the pair converses a bit before the journeyman departs leaving Ninwayzan on his own out here. Looking around at just where they actually ended up he spies a cloaked figure though not too easily identifiable to him yet as he's still learning everyone's names. Too far yet to really see her pensive, somewhat pinched expression he lifts a hand in greeting to the solitary figure. Even at a distance, it may be possible to see the more-obvious surprise in Mirinda's expression following that hail, no doubt in part because the hood of her cloak has fallen back and left her face unobscured. Then again, it's also there in her stance: in the way she stills, in the way she stares. But her footsteps are carrying her in that direction, and after a moment's pause they continue, drawing her closer and closer to the stocky teen. Perhaps its the surprise in her expression or maybe its the stance or odds are its the 'stare' that is provided to Ninwayzan as she approaches that makes him hesitant to say too much out loud. His own expression turns from friendly to wary. "Good afternoon." he ventures a basic greeting to the cloaked figure. "Good afternoon," returns Mirinda, her voice holding a cadence that would be-- to some-- identifiable as Monacoan (or at least, southern). Her dark eyes drop towards shoulder as she provide conclusion to her greeting, "Apprentice. Did you need something?" She's not build to be imposing, and closer up her expression isn't imperious; perhaps, simply, reserved. Ninwayzan can likely at least identify southern in her voice. His own head held up high his green eyes sparkle brightly with curiosity. His own stance is open somewhat as he learns of the various residents of the weyr. Offering a flicker of a smile across his facial expression he merely shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your solitude. I am not quite lost per say..." half turning his body to look around where they currently stand, his hands move as he talks. "I must admit I have yet to be to this part of the weyr outside." "Northern weyrs feel strange in their configuration," admits Mirinda, glancing from Ninwayzan to the bowl around them, the endless stone and stone and stone (and then, of course, the lake). "But if you follow the wall around, it's not so difficult to find your way again; that much is certainly true." The weyrwoman's smile is tentative rather than full, more a glimmer of wry amusement than anything more full-bodied. "You must," also? "be new." It's just after lunch; a foggy, chilly afternoon. Ninwayzan gives a bit of a mhmm of agreement over northern weyrs as opposed to any other weyrs. He's still kind of looking around as she answers, letting his own gaze follow the endless stone upon stone until he sees the distant lake. Back to Mirinda he looks with a quick glance towards her shoulder to try to identify her knot. "Apprentice Ninwayzan." he supplies his name and confirmation that he is indeed new. And out of this foggy, chilly, unfavorable weather comes the bob of a well-known-around-these-parts reddish-blonde head. It is with infinite purposefulness that A'sran strolls through the fog, his arms wrapped around a woven basket covered with a checkered cloth. He appears to be onsome mission, a mission which is all too easily forgotten when he espies the weyrwoman conversing with an unfamiliar face. His smile grows more lopsided the closer he gets to the pair, until the corners of his blue eyes are as crinkly as his smile is wide. "Weyrwoman Mirinda, good afternoon, and your friend..?" His gaze roves naturally to the young man, there. Mirinda's knot should be pretty easy to identify: there can't be many people with as many loops and tassels, nor that thread of gold, as what hangs from the shoulder of her cloak. In the end, of course, whether or not Nimwayzan has learned his knots, A'sran's greeting certainly confirms her identity. "Bronzerider," she greets, glancing up from the baker to smile, politely, in the direction of the newcomer. "Good afternoon to you, too. This is--" A pause. "Nimwayzan?" She tests out the name. Ninwayzan clearly hasn't learned all the knots fully so the surprise across his expression in genuine when his newest companion is identified. "Weyrwomen." he stammers slightly before looking to the newest person approaching. "Ninwayzan, yes." "Apprentice baker." he confirms. The weyrwoman's greeting only adds further warmth to his smile, but when Ninwayzen confirms his identity, he hefts the basket higher in his arms and refocuses on the apprentice. "Ninwayzan? Well met. I have just come from the kitchen, actually. I heard one of my friends was sick and I wanted to give her something to ease the pain," at which point A'sran pulls back the cloth on top of his basket to reveal.. warm pastries. "Your handiwork?" he asks, lifting one of the cinnamon-spiced buns to his nose for a whiff, but his eyes shift to Mirinda and there's laughter in them. That Ninwayzan is surprised clearly surprises Mirinda, in turn, her gaze turning just a little more probing as she regards the apprentice; in a way, she seems a little out of place as a result, and just a little awkward. "Well met, Apprentice," is at least polite, as is the smile she aims at A'sran. "That does smell delicious," is tentative, as she leans in to get a better look at the bronzerider's cargo. "And you must be a good friend to have." Ninwayzan averts his gaze downwards briefly at Miranda's surprise. Clearly he should have studied the knot structures a bit more. Perhaps it was just the shock of meeting the actual Weyrwoman. "My apologies, I seem to have lacked in my studies properly before coming to the weyr." shifting his look towards A'sran he inhales the aroma emitting from the basket. "Not my work but that of Taylor no doubt. Surely though your friend will appreciate the kindness." "No? That is a pity. I cannot think of anything more advantageous than knowing our baker by name and him knowing mine," A'sran answers Ninwayzan. He takes the pastry he had been sniffing and holds it out to the goldrider, so she does not have to crane her neck so far. "I am," he agrees, "and I think she knows it. She told me not to bring anything, but what can I see? I would be a poor friend indeed." The apology offered by Ninwayzan does little to recompose Mirinda, who now seems more awkward-- even bashful. "No, of course," she says, quickly, with a little ghost of a smile that is possibly intended as reassurance. The extended pastry earns a polite sniff from the goldrider, who seems a little nonplussed by the gesture for all that she continues smile. "It looks delicious," she promises. "It is a lovely gesture. I'm sure the apprentice where will pass on that positive feedback to his journeyman." The exchange between weyrwoman and apprentice is given a curious glance, yet his arms are full of pastries and that is distracting enough. "I do not think she will miss one," A'sran informs Mirinda, holding the pastry that much closer; waggling it enticingly. "You cannot be concerned about your figure." "Not my figure," agrees Mirinda, those dark eyes lifting towards A'sran's as she takes half a step back away from the pastry. "Only your fingers." "Not your.." A'sran's eyes drop to the pastry he holds out to the goldrider, and then he slows rescinds the offer and brings the uneaten bun to his own mouth, instead. Muffled, he says, as he holds the basket out to Mirinda, "Any of 'em." Ninwayzan seems uncertain himself on what to say given the somewhat awkward stance of the Weyrwoman. Wrinkling his nose a bit he watches him and her discuss the pastry which may or may not be taken by Miranda. As she steps further from the proffered pastry a half smirk appears. "I'll be sure to pass on the uncertainty of the Weyrwoman accepting the pastry he made." a lopsided smile follows his words. Mirinda hesitates, looking quite as if she's torn between all kinds of things, though none of them--given the way her hands clutch at the edges of her cloak-- seem to involve actually accepting one of the pastries. "Not," she hastens to say, "anything to do with his work, I assure you." That's for Ninwayzan, presumably, upon whom her gaze lingers only briefly. And to A'sran: "Thank you, but no. If you'll both excuse me?" She's already primed to hurry away. All of the enthusiasm A'sran had in offering his pastries fades away as the weyrwoman does not accept his gifts, even if they were originally meant for someone else. His eyebrows lift in question, but being the dutiful rider he is, he simply nods his acknowledgement. "G'bye," sounds from somewhere around the pastry, as he resettles the basket against his chest. It is only once she has fled that he turns to consider Ninwayzen with curious eyes. "How did you end up a baker?" he asks, when he has taken and finished his bite of bun. "Childhood fondness?" "Partially to go against what my grandfather wanted." Ninwayzan drags his attention from the departing Weyrwoman back to the remaining bronze rider. "My rebellion turns when I was younger." a shrug accents his words. "Then I discovered I actually liked working in the kitchens despite it being just woman's work." perhaps it's good that Miranda's already departed. "Was there another path he wanted you to take? It is interesting that baking spoke to you, but one I might envy. I was never any good at anything in particular, apart from.." A'sran's mouth splits into another smile. "Ninwayzan, I hope you enjoy your time here. Fort is a great place to be." He pushes the pastry back into his mouth and nods at the apprentice, setting one foot down in the direction he had been walking before. "If't you'll ex'se me.." Off he goes. Ninwayzan gives a half smile. "He would have me knee deep in hold politics if he had his way. "I admit though that it's been interesting here my first few days as just as apprentice. Farnath knows what will happen later on as I progress through the apprenticeship." he gives a nod. "I hope your friend feels better." |
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