Logs:Volunteers, Laze Abouts and Voluntolds
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| RL Date: 5 May, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Jemizen, Kaelige, Lilah, Yarovai |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Breakfast has a smattering of those with work ethic, those without, and one with authority. |
| Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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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. Though the hour of the morning has inched away from dawn to something more reasonable for those less inclined to greet the day when the sun is barely out of bed, the breakfast spread has been set out for some time now to accommodate the earliest risers. Dee looks wide awake, and with none of the signs of recent sleep. She's seeing to her hearty breakfast with the gusto of one who has somewhere to be or something to do, though her hazel gaze floats across the faces in the cavern with thoughtful interest and a lack of hurry that is at odds with the inhalation of her food. Yarovai doesn't look newly awake. He's had enough time to bathe and start sweating again, but fortunately he's not sweating very much now and he doesn't smell. Give him till the end of the day and that might change. With a plate full of food gathered from the spread, the dark-haired man starts looking for somewhere to sit, which ends up being an empty seat near where Dee is settled. Because apparently sitting by himself is his default strategy in life. "Morning, Yarovai!" Dee greets after hurrying to swallow her mouthful of juice (and whatever else was trapped in there with it), leaning to tug the chair directly next to her for him, rather than some spaces away. Her smile is easy and face bright. "Full day of fixing ahead?" is her cheerful inquiry; any cynics watching might be a little appalled that she seems so genuine about her interest. From the direction of the bowl comes the shadowy figure of Kaelige, garbed to show as little skin as possible regardless of time of year, as per his normal. His stride is a slow one, one that quite contrary to Dee's breakfast-munching gusto, has nowhere to go and nowhere to be in the foreseeable future. Assuming he didn't sleep outside, perhaps he is just now coming inside from whatever he was doing. Closer, a small brown firelizard is draped across his shoulders. The little creature seems to be sleeping up until some unspoken command rouses it, sends it in a flurry off his shoulder and to vanish Between before the boy ever reaches the food spread. A rather small amount of food for the boy's growing size is attained before he's soon seated about one seat away from Dee between her and Yarovai. "Morning." Is greeted from the mostly-unseen face. Well, hey. If Kaelige wants to sit next to Yarovai, the man isn't going to complain. He probably doesn't complain about very much. "Always something to fix. There's fencing, too. And some boards in the barn that need replaced. Some of the beasts must not have liked the weather very much." He speaks loudly enough so that Dee can hear him with Kaelige blocking the way, but not so loudly that he's yelling. Dee's straightening is from surprise but not from objection as the hooded figure takes his seat; it's just a matter of adjusting her expectations now. "Morning," is friendly to the of the unseen face. Can she even really be sure it's the same hooded figure from some days before? She leans a little forward, fork pausing on her plate. "That sounds useful. I'm going to be over that way myself, today, taking notes for Journeyman Mouzar about the grazing areas in the feeding grounds. I can only imagine your fixing list never ends with all the stuff from the storm, and that's not even including all the rest that regular people can do," implying perhaps that Yarovai is not a regular person? She takes a couple bites before posing to Kaelige, "What about you? What are you doing today?" "Nope." Kaelige doesn't simply chow down. No, he picks at his food, tearing off the flakes of the meatroll as if investigating every morsal for something hidden within. Not every bit is edible, apparently. The short and sweet 'nope' must've been in regards to Yarovai's talk about the beasts not enjoying the weather. "Got kicked enough trying to calm 'em." Giving some indication that he may be actually somewhat useful around here? "The back roof is leaking, and I think it's bad enough half the roof may need to go with it." For Yarovai's information, specifically. To Dee, there's a smirk but it's a tad hard to see as he's leaning awkwardly over his plate on his elbows. "Sleeping." Back to being unhelpful. "Stable's not so comfortable at the moment." That explains all, of course. Yarovai probably won't pick up on the implication that he's not a regular people, admittedly, but he probably doesn't break as many things as others might be prone to, so he can agree with that much. "Maybe we'll run into each other. I mean-- not into each other. Maybe I'll see you. And you'll see me. And we can wave at each other." That's better. Now everyone will understand him. "You should probably stay away from their butts," is offered helpfully to Kaelige in regards to being kicked by unsettled beasts. "Is that what you do here?" Dee wants to know of Kaelige, with that same honest curiosity there seems to be no real cure for. Every question begets more questions. "Is that a priority?" is her next, looking between one man and then next, "A roof that leaks like that? The construction here is all... different," she explains her need to ask. "At home it wouldn't take much to fix it, here... the materials are heavier, I think. Though I'd probably have to have a go at climbing on the roof myself to be sure." There's a flash of a smile that mingles delight with mischief before it's erased by the need to put more food away. Yarovai makes her laugh though, so she's putting up a hand to keep her mouthful in. Her bright gaze alights on him and is appreciative of his (unintentional) humor as she struggles to chew and swallow. "Sure, I'll just let them stampede into the tunnels next storm and join you on your cot. They'll be more comfortable there." Kaelige's smirk is really a sneer at this point, and as he reaches for a mug of klah steaming at the side of his tray, he shakes his head quickly and shortly and the odd boy's hood finally falls away to settle in folds around his neck. He's not all that ugly, really, out of the shadows, but he's also not all that clean. The amount of dirt smudges on his face look nigh intentional. A long drink is had as Dee asks her question of him. "It's old." He answers, assumably truthfully and also assumably of the stable itself, though it could count for the entirity of this particular Weyr. "Damage will escalate if it's not fixed first. And it's not as comfortable in wet hay." Him sleeping in the loft, one may assume from his previous comments. Eventually, he gets around to her first question, "Play with animals? Yeah, I do that." "Whatever they tell me to do is what I do." And it's probably not entrusting Yarovai with anything that might be considered an important decision. "But there are some things I don't fix. There are crafters." As in people who actually know what they're doing when things like roofs are in need of repair. Yarovai seems even more confused by Kaelige's comments. "They wouldn't come into the tunnels. They'd stay out in the open. And they couldn't get to my cot even if they did go in the tunnels." None of this makes sense to him. "I'd let one of the foals stay with me if they had to, though." Dee is learning from her mistakes; her fork is set down carefully to better focus on conversing with the other two (and to avoid unpleasant instances of food coming out of places it shouldn't). Her lips are pressed into a line, though curled up at the corners, her expression of restrained amusement, though the delight reaches all the way up to her eyes as she listens to Yarovai's logic. "You know, that's rather obvious," she offers to Kaelige with just the slightest hint of teasing. "The bit about damage escalating if it's not fixed. I'm not sure I can think of anything that isn't that way." She pauses, correcting herself half a breath later, "Oh, wounds, perhaps." She's briefly thoughtful but then looking to the fix-it man and back to the boy who plays with animals. "I think that's kind of you, Yarovai," she validates him with a real smile. To Kaelige she adds, "Do you? Play? You don't seem the type." With the tip of her head that lets her runner's tail swing with it as she studies him with her lively gaze, it might well be guessed that Dee is. Kaelige is darkly amused, his blue green gaze focused on his plate as if debating how far to take things. The mashed tubers on his plate are moved around in further assessment, but apparently fail the test and he's back to messing with the meat roll. "Only if you don't get infected." He returns on the note of wounds as he leans back in his chair to uncurl his hunching. "Then there's plenty of escalating you can do." He seems to like that concepts, a half-chuckle beneath the tail-end of his words which may be a bit unsettling. However, he doesn't seem pursuaded to comment on anything else involving the damage, except to Yarovai, "Good, because if those fences don't get fixed soon, there will be a lot of foals in your bed. And unhappy mares with choice words about it." A larger bite is taken as he considers his wording to Dee, his expression hard to read but in general darkly entertained, "I sleep." He makes an agreeing adjustment to his words from before after being corrected by Dee. "Not much playing involved, it's true. There's a bunch'a," he waves his fork in the air slightly, his elbows still on the table as he pauses a moment to clean a morsal out of his teeth with his tongue, "people who like to work, apparently. They do the playing." And, you know, all the mucking and actual work. Yarovai leans back to look over at the girl for a moment, then starts to stand up, taking his not entirely finished plate with him. "Guess I should get to work. Have a good day." It's said to both of them, really, but by now the big guy isn't looking at either of them. Instead, he's turning to head for the kitchen, where he might shove the rest of his food in his mouth before dropping his plate into the wash and doing what Yarovais do. "Point," Dee grants Kaelige with a grin on the matter of infected wounds. As Yarovai stands, the Southerner's eyes lift to him and she smiles and waves, because waving is good. "You too, Yarovai!" She wishes him that return of sentiment with disgusting sincerity before turning her attention back to Kaelige. "So you sleep while other people work," she sums up. "That sounds familiar. She peers at him before picking up her fork again, apparently feeling the danger of untoward food incidences past. "If you meet Jem, you two can start a club. I'm sure he's looking for someone to show him all the places to avoid work anyway." There's a hint of fondness in her otherwise disapproving tone. "Basically." Kaelige gives, though that response is more as if that's an entirely normal and acceptable thing to do. Yarovai's depature gets little more than a blue-green stare after him, as if marking his direction of exit, and then his attention is back to Dee. As flippant as he is about.. well.. everything, he seems sincerely interested in other people's business. "Jem, your brother?" He clarifies, recalling from the other day to now, "What's his role supposed to be?" Meaning, his job. "I have plenty of spots to show him. He needn't worry about being caught for work here. Fort's got too many places to hide. Even the best headwoman can't possibly know 'em all." It seems as if that's quite the achievement. "Jem, my brother," Dee confirms with a nod before taking another bite of her now half-full plate. It's a couple hours after daybreak, a reasonable breakfast time for Fortians and conveniently like lunch for those Southerners who are used to getting up at the crack of dawn. Kaelige sits near her, the two in some manner of earnest discussion as she eats and he picks at his food. "He's supposed to be a helper," is helpful, is it not? "Extra hands to help clear things from the storm, and all that." The way Dee says this is not very invested in the story those more politic than she are telling, but repeated like something taught in a Harper's classroom. From the inner caverns ambles the lanky form of another one of those new Southern transplants. Unlike certain other Southern transplants, Jemizen is not exactly used to rising at the crack of dawn, so his circadian rhythm is conveniently already set to Fortian time as he shuffles across the living cavern in search of breakfast. Of course, he is quickly distracted by a familiar voice and the familiar face it's coming from, and he brightens considerably as he makes a beeline to the table at which Dee and Kaelige are sitting. "Dee! Dee, Hi! Good morning!" He plops down unceremoniously beside her and smiles cheerily at her unknown companion. "Hello!" No time for proper greetings, though, as he starts reaching for Dee's plate, hoping a companionable "Gotten used to the cold yet?" will distract her from her food being swiped. "And you came because..." Kaelige trials off, leadingly, but adds his own "to make up for his lack of helping?" He gives up on the meatroll. For as skinny as a rail that he is, it seems rediculous his lack of appetite. He must eat quite a bit of that hay he sleeps on, or something. "Fort always needs more backs to keep the walls standing." The odd boy suggests. For anyone on-looking, the boy is sitting just a seat away from Dee and beyond his face that's finally unshrouded by his hood covered in smudges of dirt, no other hint of skin is apparent, hidden beneath layers of dingy black. Jemizen's arrival is watched with an unsettling amount of studious intensity, as if every movement matters. Only when he sits does that seem to dissolve back into a lackadaisical manner of being. Words don't greet the Southerner as much as a weird smirk and a nod of his head. Dee's mouth starts to open to reply to Kaelige, only to have whatever it was derailed as the brother in question joins them. "Jem! Jem," she answers in habitual mimic of his tones rather than because she shares the same excitement to see him. She mustn't truly mind his presence though because she automatically reaches to nudge her plate in his direction even as he reaches for it. Her fork moves at the same time to stab into the sweet roll that he might otherwise have sought to claim: hers. Rather than directly answer Kaelige's first (possibly forgotten) question, she introduces, "Jemizen, Kaelige, Kaelige, Jemizen." Her next is wry and rueful as if making this connection is only speeding the inevitable, "He's going to show you all the best places to avoid work." Did Kaelige actually say he would? Or just that he could? It's really all the same to Dee, apparently. "And it's still cold," she answers Jem, rolling her shoulders a little awkwardly, the weight of the sweater sitting ill with her. "Well met, Kaelige!" Jem says in a sing-songy tone, turning back to beam at the younger boy. He seems unperturbed by the dirt-smudges and relative strangeness of Kaelige's dress. "I would welcome the instruction in Fortian hiding places. Eventually the laundresses and the cooks are going to talk to each other and figure it out." He seems inordinately proud of himself as he explains: "If a cook asks me to help in the kitchens I tell them I'm supposed to be doing laundry." Here he crosses his arms and points each of his index fingers in opposite directions, "And vice versa." Dee's plate is eagerly grabbed when it's offered, and he starts shoveling food in his mouth with his fingers. "I was helping to clean up some of the rubble outside, but I'm not good at heavy lifting." He is very good at feigning muscle strain, though. His sister gets a sympathetic nod and he shrugs his own knit-clad shoulders. "How many of these do they have to wear in winter?" His bright brown eyes focus on nothing particular in the distance as he adds a wistful, "Wouldn't mind seeing snow, though." But not, like, being in it. Kaelige seems strange about Dee introducing him to Jem- though perhaps that's not entirely different from the entire time he's been here. He diverts his gaze, looking across the table to evaluate the crowd around them. "Maybe not all." He remarks lightly, eeriely, eventually looking back at Jem. After some time of listening in relative judgemental quiet, his smirk gives way to words, "Just don't be around to say anything at all." Is his personal method of avoidance. "It sounds like you've done some work then. Already unworthy of the best of spots." Kael reasons, giving Jem a sidelong look of amusement. Towards the comment of winter, he taps his gloved fingers on the table, considering, "A few perhaps. Some hats, plenty of layers." It leaves open the fact that he actually doesn't know, but he's no less smug in his word choice. "Ugh, Jem," Dee expresses her disapproval with a roll of her eyes. Even so, the words are too gentle and tolerant to be effective. "Someone needs to do that work, and you need to pull your weight," she tells him, tapping the plate as if illustrating what he gets in return for work. At least Kaelige isn't devouring the Weyr's food like he's earned it. She looks to Kaelige as if surprised that he's actually talking of sharing spots. What she might have expected to see happen is anyone's guess, but not this. "Not you too," she pleads already with a tone of defeat - like she perhaps thought he wasn't speaking in earnest about avoiding work. "Are you both hopeless?" She asks meekly, looking between one and the other. Jemizen's face grows slack at Kaelige's words, and he looks at the other boy in comical dismay. "I have not! I've not done any work at all." His gaze shoots over to Dee and he's unable to hide his grin as he notes in an amused aside to her, "That might be the worst thing anyone's ever said about me." His features scrunch together in a disgusted expression. "Layers! That sounds awful." He polishes off the rest of the food on Dee's plate, apparently completely remorseless about his freeloading. "Not hopeless, just helpless." Jem grins like this is a joke, but... He returns his attentions to New Friend Kaelige. "What manner of work are you avoiding, Kaelige?" "Too late." Kaelige remarks, waving a piece of food dismissively in front of him with his fingers- something untellable as far as what it came from considering how fully he's dissected everything on his plate. "That's no good." He follows with Jem, seeming to care about his particular statement, "Helpless," And he then points the once-sweetroll at the non-helpful helper, "Is not something anyone should be. Not even I could hide you if you're that." He says as if he's the master of such things. Friend. That's something he's most certainly never been described as before- it's probably a good thing it's not said outloud. "I do things." He says lazily with a shrug, "Sometimes. In the stables." He leaves that open for interpretation. And as he does so he slouches down in his chair, and reaches his hand up to pull his hood back over his head, as if it's some sort of security blanket. "What's so wrong with layers?" "Like sleeping," Dee fills in helpfully for Jem, of Kaelige's stables-times activities. Then she's pulling the sole remaining survivor of her brother's breakfast (the sweet bun on her fork) to her lips. There's a scuffing sound as if she's swung her feet and found herself (alas, still) too tall for such activities to not get stopped by the stone of the floor. She rolls her eyes a bit as she explains, for Kaelige's benefit, "Jem's not actually helpless. He just pretends so we'll all take care of him," she must sincerely believe (or hope). "You know, I bet if you both put your minds to it, you could do so much for that leaking roof in the stables." It's a terrible idea, but that doesn't seem to occur to the capable brunette. "Volunteer yourself to the crafters or some such. I bet you could both use hammers if you tried," this last has an edge of teasing to it, though it's not wholly a joke. Jemizen frowns, thoughtfully. It's a curious expression--one that doesn't come naturally to his genial face. "But I'm not helpless at hiding." He points out, affably. Dee gets a dazzling smile, then. "Yes, exactly. You do a much better job of taking care of me than I could ever do." He makes that scrunchy-nosed ick-face again at Kaelige's mention of the stables. "That sounds like something to avoid, definitely." And because they are New Friends, Jem is inclined to share his life story: "I thought I might like beastcrafting when I was a kid. Before I knew about... cleaning up." If work in general offends his delicate sensibilites you can imagine how vehemently he is opposed to the idea of working at mucking out stables. Jem stretches out, propping his feet up on a nearby empty seat and falling into an artful slouch. "Layers," He explains, with embarrassing gravitas, "Get in the way of proper lounging." Dee's suggestion of mending the stable roof is met with an incredulously arched eyebrow. "Hammers would definitely get in the way of proper lounging." "The key is trying and that is not something that sounds enjoyable. And volunteering hardly comes with benefit." Personal benefit, as he sees it. One must assume he doesn't get the warm and fuzzies from lending a hand. Kaelige directs those comments at Dee's attempts to route their energies into something beneficial. It's an odd switch that turned on and off between him caring about that simple statement of Jem's, and now returning back to his crued cover. "What, with people like you moving here to take care of everything?" Callous shrugging ensues, the action made more notable by his dingy greyed-black clothing rustling and.. is that jingle of something metallic beneath? "One little storm," Careless apparently as he is about the lives lost amidst it, "and we get people coming from all sorts of directions, just to do the work that followed. Fort appreciates." The mocking, snide remark is said without much change in his volume, as if he doesn't care who might overhear. To Jem, as if that wasn't enough, "Hardly." Is said to either mucking or layers or both. "Timing is crucial. You know where and when to sit, and there's no mucking to be done." Not by him, anyway. "And proper layers for proper lounging is a must. You wear Southern clothes in one of my spots, and you'll not be there long. You can hardly hide well half-naked." "Fort does appreciate those that have volunteered in this time of crisis, and I would hope that you would know better than to speak for Fort," is the crystal clear cut of Lilah's soprano over the cavern, for all that the goldrider is not far from the table that holds those young people. Not far enough not to have missed that snide remark on the part of Kaelige, who earns the full weight of her dark gaze at the moment and her focus as she starts in a path closer to that table. Those that might be in her way? They are quick to get out of it, lest they draw her attention. Once she arrives, though, there is a glance over the others, a quick look that takes them in as if to place them. "We're not-" Dee had just started when the soprano cuts through and her lips meet in silence instead of more words. Hazel eyes lift and find the goldrider heading toward them. Habit has her eyes dropping to the woman's shoulder and she swallows early on the piece of sweet roll in her mouth and is left coughing (though not in a way that would suggest choking). It gives her something to focus on at least and she drops her eyes toward the table a moment before inching her gaze back up as though to see if, in fact, Lilah were a figment of her imagination. She's no help to anyone just this moment. Jemizen responds to Kaelige's words with an overwrought eye-rolling, and opens his mouth to respond verbally but it snaps shut quickly as Lilah approaches. Jem isn't especially knot-savvy but he's been yelled at enough to recognize when the tone of authority in a voice rings true, and he swings his legs around, feet planted firmly on the floor as he sits up straighter. He does have the presence of mind to not flash his typical 'I swear I wasn't doing anything wrong' angelic smile at the goldrider, but he does scoot closer to Dee and drop his gaze to the table. If there's a sudden change in Kaelige, such as the 'dammit' that would ensue from the very-recognizable goldrider's arrival, he is great as masking it. Granted, he does have his hood up. And he is slouching within his self-made shadows in his seat. The change that does occur is that he becomes very suddenly silent, his sarcastic words shoved back in his trap by Lilah's arrival. He's been able to control what authority has heard out of his mouth... until now. Sharding luck. Eventually, he utters a "Ma'am." As probably more of a greeting than an apology, but it could be taken as both, and his blue-green eyes become evident from his over-cast face as he ultimately gives in to actually look up at the goldrider. "Weyrwoman Lilah, so pleased to see you this morning. Have you met the new Southern arrivals?" Are the next words that leave his face, his smile an awkward one but potentially believable. Let's throw the siblings under the bus of point of attention instead. The curve of Lilah's brow upwards is held in a brief point, but there does seem to be a reprieve from her sharp attention on Kaelige as she allows herself to be directed towards the siblings there. "Welcome," is her simple greeting to the two, not even paired with a smile. "Thank you for volunteering to come help us recover. Is there anything you find yourself needing to settle in--?" Dee might prefer to stay looking at the table, but between Jem's behaving which is unnerving all on its own and Kaelige sacrificing them to the goldrider in hopes of appeasing her, the young woman jerks her hazel gaze up first to the hood-wearer with a brief look of betrayal. She lets her shoulders roll to square and settled. "It's--" she starts, only to stop, only to look uncertain, "It's--" a second try, then finally as though some small dam of self-consciousness breaks. "We're glad we can be of help, Weyrwoman Lilah." Then she elbows her brother in as non-obvious (totally obvious) a way as possible, "Aren't we, Jemizen?" She only uses her name when she expects his obedience: serious business. Is leaving Jem to actually answer the redhead's question a bad plan? If it is, Dee is patently unaware. Jemizen keeps staring at the table throughout Kaelige's oh-so-kind introduction, and through Dee's early attempts to respond to the goldrider. And then, suddenly, as though hearing his sister use his full name is some sort password (not that an elbow to the ribs doesn't help), his gaze snaps back up and he flashes a placid smile at Lilah, schooling his features into the very picture of earnest goodwill. "Of course we're glad to be of help. And everyone has been so kind and thoughtful already, all of our needs as guests have been well-met." He brightens his smile to just-short of dazzling. "We only hope we can meet all of yours." Kaelige holds up well under harsh scrutinizing glares, apparently, or at least appears to. Mock-charm creases the boy's face, with a grin that has a hard time of not being an insensitive smirk. He's all about self-survival, and is fully deserving of the betrayed glance from Dee which gets a side-long amused look from those blue-greens of his. He's not done being a twit apparently. Jem and Dee's responses are listened to with such sincerity that it's nigh sickeningly obvious he's doing it out of show. "See, excellent." He holds out a hand, palm up, demonstrating the wonder that they are. "So much work to be done, and such energetic volunteers. Everything will be done in no time." The sheer amount of work makes his statement obviously false, but he says it with with such an earnesty as if it erases all the things Lilah walked in on him saying in the first place. "I am glad you are so enthusiastic as well, Kaelige. I expect for you to report to me tomorrow morning; I need someone to make deliveries from the stores with requested supplies for me," is Lilah's answer to that earnestness on the young man's part, this statement paired with the curve of a smile before it disappears. "I will arrange it with the Stablemaster." But he is reprieved again of that attention as she shifts back to the Southern pair, nodding in acceptance of Jemizen's answer. "You will know if you do not, I can assure you of that. But we do need you." A wince flinches across Dee's face at her brother's 'charming' words, but her elbow doesn't move to try to nudge into the flesh of his side, lightly this time, until after Lilah's assurance. "Jem was very excited to come, ma'am," she pipes up in defense of her brother, as if Lilah must know already that he's been not entirely helpful. "He's just been... feeling the time difference still. We only arrived a few days back." Doubtlessly Dee does not like lying for her brother, but it's a long-formed habit, and it's only a white lie anyway. She glances to Kaelige, but says nothing. She lifts one hand from where it had fallen into her lap at Lilah's approach and awkwardly places her empty fork onto the empty plate in front of Jemizen. Jemizen's eyebrows flicker upward at Kaelige's words, and he winces slightly as Lilah answers the other boy's mock-earnestness with extra work. Daaaaaamn. New Friend or not, Jem is not inclined to intervene. That beneficent smile returns to his face as he glances back up at Lilah, nodding and ignoring the vaguely-threatening sound of her first comment and simply repeating, "Glad to be of help." He blinks, stupidly, at his sister's words, and it takes a long, awkward moment before it occurs to him to play along. He nods vigorously, then adds, "And the weather. The Fortian climate is very different. The cold has been... Exhausting." He smiles again, certain that this is a solid excuse. Kaelige leans forwards so that his face his hidden. Unwilling to give anyone the satisfaction of watching his smirk melt, he does what he does best, and isn't seen to start with. His forearms drop to the table before his elbows as he leans over his plate, fingers picking at the remains of crumbs, torn breading and picked-at mashed tubers. "I'll be there." There's still a pleasant tone to his voice, mock-pleasantry, but he's well aware of the respect he's supposed to show. But, true to his abrasive, awkward and inappropriate nature, he adds "I look forward to seeing you so early, ma'am." He rises from his chair with that, as if planning to abandon the siblings to Lilah, raising his mug now empty of his klah as his sincerity to that statement. Kael doesn't make his own comments to Jem or Dee's additions to the conversation, not yet anyway. Lilah only nods her own satisfaction for Kaelige's agreement, her gaze sliding sideways to the young man as he rises. That seems to be all she has for him, no further reminders or work or reproach, but neither does she move to take a seat with Jem and Dee. Instead, with that advantage of height, she offers to the former, "It is an adjustment, but be glad you were not sent to somewhere like High Reaches." A pause, before what almost could be sympathy brings forth the words, "It can be hard to be away from home. We don't expect either of you to fit in immediately." Dee's shoulders subtly lose some measure of tension as Lilah speaks again. "Is this usual weather for this time of the turn?" She queries, curiously. It's an innocuous sort of question, even given the recent events that might make the topic of weather less safe than usual. By contrast, her glance to Kaelige and back to the goldrider that leads her to ask, "Does he normally work for you?" as if there might be some preexisting professional relationship there that she's unaware of, is almost certainly stepping into odd (perhaps even inappropriate waters). Then, then, worse, "Actually, I think Jem could probably help you with all that tomorrow, ma'am, with Kaelige." Lest he think she's trying to help him out of it. "I rose in the middle of the night the times are off so much, so bright and early shouldn't be a problem." Best older sister ever! She says it with sincere belief to the goldrider though, so she's probably not just foisting another useless body off on the redhead. Jemizen appears dumbfounded at the very mention of High Reaches. "I am very, very glad to not have been sent to High Reaches, ma'am." He agrees, solemnly, and shivers a bit for emphasis. As Kaelige rises, Jem raises a hand for a farewell wave, but is immediately distracted by his sister's oh-so-helpful comments and his head whips around to stare at her, slack-jawed. Once he is capable of speech: "Dahlia," He uses her full name to express his displeasure, "I'm sure the weyrwoman doesn't want to be bothered. Not so early in the morning. Not by me." A mere volunteer cleanup crew member who has yet to do any substantial cleaning up. Brown eyes flicker, with hopefulness, back to the goldrider in question. Kaelige is paused from his intent on departure with Dee's recommendation for Jem to join him at his required tortur-er-job in the morning. Shadowed face tilts just enough to watch for the southern boy's reaction to it. Kael himself seems something between annoyed, frustrated, disappointed?- it's hard to tell given how little of his expression is seeable. It's harder to hide two people at once, afterall. Partnering him up would be... unfortunate. "I'm sure they could use you outside." He says, the low tones he uses perhaps a little too serious for his intentions. "Just moving things from stores, I can handle it alone." He at least sounds earnest, charm lending to persuasion as his bluegreens look to the red-headed goldrider to judge her reaction. "You aren't excited by the prospect of running things from the stores?" is what Lilah questions of Jem at his answer, a hint of buried humor there as she regards the young man with her even, dark gaze. "It is less back-breaking work than moving rocks and debris, as long as you are fast." A pause, before she continues, "And it will get you well accustomed to the layout of the Weyr quickly. Please do report to me in the morning." Her gaze slides to Kaelige, what little she can see of the young man where he hides from her, but it's to Dee that she addresses a simple, "Thank you for the suggestion." "Happy to be of help, Weyrwoman," Dahlia answers Lilah's thank you sincerely. It has a double meaning, of course. The second is for her brother: he's out of luck with her. Put up or shut up. Her hazel eyes turn toward Kaelige, her tone one of feigned surprise, "Why, Kaelige, I didn't realize you were so..." She considers, and then shrugs with a smile. Someone else can finish the sentence if they like; evidently she won't be. "I'm not sure how much help I would be in the stores--" Jem is agreeing vigorously with Kaelige, but stops short at Lilah's words. "Less back-breaking?" That is definitely promising. You can almost see the gears in Jemizen's head turning turning turning. Surely a brand-new transplant to the weyr can't be expected to not get conveniently lost a few times, right? It certainly sounds preferable to working outside in the autumnal chill. "Of course. Happy to help, weyrwoman Lilah." His tone has lost some of its brightness, but he flashes a bright smile at her, aiming for charming rather than sycophantic. Dee gets a comically overwrought dark look, and it takes Jem a physical effort to not stick his tongue out at her. He's not sure how to finish her sentence, either. He blinks over at Kaelige, his new apparent co-worker. Kaelige is not happy with this, and despite well-practiced work on facades, he's lost that sarcastic, slappable expression off his difficult-to-age face. Threatening glare drops to his tray which is picked up in turn to avoid making eye-contact with what he knows is a slip. He'll actually have to do work, how dire! And alongside a happy person to boot. Shard it all. "'Til then." Is his unpleasant reply that serves just as much as his farewell. An overdone bow of his hooded head is given to the junior weyrwoman, and he makes his peace by getting lost in the crowd amidst the tunnels after depositing his tray and mug. Lost, like he fully intends to get Jem in the morning. "Good," exists as a reply for both Jem's eagerness to help and Kaelige's farewell. But Lilah seems satisfied with this interaction, saying nothing further before the goldrider twists on a heel to move off to get her own breakfast without even a farewell. Dee's hazel eyes trail first Kaelige and then Lilah as each moves to exit. It's only after they're some distance away that her shoulders sag and she looks to her brother, "What did you get us into?" is her demanded mutter. Jemizen unwittingly feeds Kaelige's ire, probably, with a cheery, "Goodbye, seeya tomorrow morning!" Directed at the hooded figure's retreating form. He turns back to Dee with a grin, all of his annoyance at her suggesting him for actual work forgotten as he answers simply, "An adventure!" He reaches over to tug affectionately at her runner's-tailed hair. Dee, as is long habit, snaps her teeth at the air in Jem's direction as if she might bite the hand that touches her hair. "An adventure," she repeats with a wearied sigh. "Jem..." She starts, but then stops, shaking her head. "We'll talk about this later," she promises before getting up to dutifully clear plate, fork and any remaining service items that need it before going to put to her day's work. |
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