Logs:Waiting For Weavers
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| RL Date: 12 July, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia, Lia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: While waiting to see a Weaver, Azaylia and Lia keep each other busy with light conversation. |
| Where: Weaver Workroom, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 3, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions |
| Weaver Workroom, High Reaches Weyr This wide, open space is located on the inner side of the corridor, so there are no windows to provide natural light. The remedy to this is a large array of glows, spaced evenly upon the walls to ensure there's always adequate light for even the finest work. Though there are a series of long, wide tables for working at, there's also plenty of open space, here, leaving room for a variety of looms, spinning wheels and dressmaker's dummies, as well as, in a smaller chamber situated at the back of the room, several large dye pots. The rest of the space is used for storage, both for the enormous bolts of cloth and for smaller items: buttons, spools of thread, needles, and so on. Flying for all weyrlings, with the exception of one, is just around the corner. Not just that, there's a fancy wedding that's in the works as well. What's this mean? The weavers have been working pretty hard the last few weeks, for the weyrlings alone, and while most of the weyrlings make do with what's in the stores, at least until a sufficient stipend starts tumbling in, Lia's not one of 'most'. She's sitting in an armchair thumbing through various dress designs with a clipboard, noting down the ones she likes and what she likes about them while she waits for a free crafter. Her slim, crossed leg swings in the air idly, keeping beat to a song likely only heard in her head that escapes in a few low-sung notes here and there. Azaylia's quick, purposeful stride is suddenly cut short when she steps into a world of looms and fabrics. The weyrling stands there, eyes taking their time in roaming over the busy though not stifling workroom. Perhaps it's a self conscious choice, the lack of her fur coat when visiting the Weavers, not that her work clothes are exactly the height of fashion. She flounders on the spot, arms tightening to hold the bright fabrics against her chest until she spots Lia. The face is just familiar enough to beckon her over, hovering long enough to peek at the dress designs. "For the wedding?" A small smile will hopefully make up for the lack of a proper greeting. Unaware of Azaylia's arrival until the gold weyrling's voice interrupts, Lia continues on with her foot shaking beat keeping to that music in her mind as she flip-flip-fli-... "Hi!" is the sudden, immediate reaction as the greenrider looks up, surprised. "Hi, I mean," is repeated, a little less forceful along with a gesture to any of the other free armchairs in the weaver 'waiting area' of sorts. "They told me it might be a while so I was looking through to see- well, yeah. For the wedding. I don't want to stand out as a weyrling at the wedding, you know? In hand me downs that don't fit well. You?" Azaylia gives a start at that sudden greeting, eyes just a touch wider as she gazes down at the green weyrling. A squeaked attempt to return the welcoming sentiment, before she clears her throat gently. "Oh, will it?" Eyes lift to watch the various crafters, hustling and seeming quite busy. With Lia's silent invitation, she sits next to her in an armchair, the bundle of jewel toned fabric falling to her lap. "I've outgrown my gather dress." Azaylia agrees with the other woman's sentiment, smile looking somewhat embarrassed. "I found some lovely things in the stores," A pause. "Hraedhyth did, and Brieli and Iesaryth." Giving credit where credit is due. "But they need to be altered... and stuff." She falls silent after a moment, deliberately quiet in an attempt not to babble poor Lia's ear off. Lia looks past Azaylia at a passing weaver apprentice, a poor young boy who hovers near the weyrlings, transfixed. He then meeps and scampers away back to what he should have been doing, and the greenrider turns a smile upon Azaylia. "I think he just got posted to the Weyr," is her observation. "I'd rather something new and I'm willing to pour the marks into it knowing that no one else has touched the fabric other than my body." She splays open a page in the design catalogue and shows a slinky dark gray affair with an intricate bead design on the bodice. "Something like this. Maybe shorter though," she adds critically. "I'm told I have lovely legs and it'd be shame to conceal them." Dark eyes look to the page longer before it flips onto a more matronly red dress. "How are you doing?" It takes Azaylia a bit longer to see that Lia's looking past her, and by the time her head turns the poor apprentice is turning to scamper. There's a flicker of concern, before a theory is voiced and has the ex-apprentice laughing softly. "I remember feeling the same way when I was first posted here." Nostalgic thoughts are abandoned for the sake of manners and polite conversation. The dress design catches her attention, "Dark gray?" Not critical, simply curious of the color- or lack of. "You are?" A downwards peek at Lia's legs. Not that she doubts it, but the idea of someone casually saying as much comes as a surprise to her. She's pulled back up by the question, though it takes a moment for her to respond, "Fine, thank you. Lots of studying. You?" Wearing pants, her legs aren't quite so visible, but Liaske flexes the top leg out down to her tippy toes obligingly for Azaylia's downward cast glance. "Dark gray," Lia reaffirms. "Like in a shimmery, liquid sort of material? So it looks like the lake does on a dark winter day? Maybe a little mysterious?" The dark-haired woman affects a sultry sort of look that pairs with a wink and grin. "I'm doing well. It's nothing I didn't expect and unlike you-," and this is with the utmost sincere voice of condolence, "I don't have anything extra to look forward to at the end of the day. I'm so glad spring's on its way though and this disgusting weather's going to be put away for another turn." The Reachian native's voice turns dreamy and her gaze glazes in thought, "There's this meadow I would go riding to in the summer with some friends, and we'd just lie there all day, making flower crowns and napping beneath the sun." "I like bright colors," Says the weyrling clad in black and dark blue, though the fabric in her lap does match what she's saying. "But dark gray would look good on you." Azaylia agrees, "Mysterious." Hands tunnel to the top of the material she's holding, rubbing some of it between thumb and index. "It's not so bad. I mean, a lot of work but it feels good in a way. Like I'll be able to help the weyr, after." While the talk of weather may be boring to some, Azaylia's face lights up at the prospect of spring. "Oh yes. Hraedhyth has only ever seen snow, and the baby animals will be born and..." A sigh to match Lia's dreamy voice, "That sounds wonderful. I love spring." As if that isn't obvious by now. "Did many of your friends Impress?" Lia closes the catalog, pressing her hands firmly into the top for a moment before sliding the clipboard to rest there. "I love color too, but used strategically. Like with that kind of dress, I'd try and find a really pretty emerald wrap or some sparkling jewels for my hair. If only-," she sighs theatrically, "I could afford such things. Some day. Some day." Her lovely legs uncross and her lean figure arches into the chair's back for a discreet stretch. "A few of us did together. And we have friends who Impressed before and there'll always be weyrbred riders after." A moment's consideration leads to an archly voiced, very slightly quizzical, "Not many apprentices who Impress these days." "Strategically. How..?" Though the other woman is all too eager to explain, much to Azaylia's relief. It's a shame she looks just a touch more confused afterward. The faint pinch to her brow easily melds into something more sympathetic, "You'll be able to, I bet. Not that you need the jewels, you're very pretty." She finds herself complimenting, perhaps now understanding how others might comment on Lia's legs. It's awful easy. Her hand stills as she tilts her head in thought, "No? Liri and I were both apprentices." Fingers begin to rub the fabric once more, Azaylia's curious gaze settled on her fellow weyrling. "Why do say that?" "Maybe it's because we have less candidates overall. I feel the percentage of weyrbred candidates are far more than out of Weyr candidates lately. Interval and all? Maybe there's less prestige in being a dragonrider or-," Lia shrugs diffidently and gets to her feet. "Or maybe, no one wants to be a dragonrider anymore, for fear of what happens in every Interval thus far yet. The curse of Weyrs: desperately needed in a Pass. Considered leeches to society in an Interval?" What jolly thoughts! And with that, the slim girl lifts her fingers and wiggles, "Time to get fitted and see what my marks will get me." She leans enough to aside softly, "Always wait for the boys who might be interested. Or the girls who like other girls. It's a lot easier to get more for your marks with them. Ta!" Azaylia is drawn in by Lia's words, eyes wide not with shock but the same look she has for many of her lessons. "Curse?" Superstitious thoughts come and go until the gold weyrling is sitting up, brow faintly wrinkled. "We're seen as leeches?" She tries not to sound too surprised, "I know that sometimes people get comfortable during a Pass, but..." To someone who would never dare think such a thing, even before Impression, it's a foreign concept. She's snapped out of it long enough to offer a slower version of that finger-wiggling wave, "Oh. I hope you get something nice, then. You seem to know what you're doing." Especially when Lia imparts that bit of bargaining wisdom. Though her farewell seems distracted, it is only the beginning as Azaylia sits there and looks pensive. She almost doesn't notice the return of that apprentice lad from before, startled by the third time he's cleared his throat. Both Lia's advice and Azaylia's own friendly nature has her following him to someone a touch more experienced to see to her weaverly needs. |
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