Logs:Welcoming Jaispe
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| RL Date: 26 November, 2007 |
| Who: Jaispe, Satiet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Igen Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Satiet welcomes Jaispe to High Reaches Weyr. |
| Where: Jaispe and Lultiath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 5, Turn 14 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Josilina/Mentions |
| Bags and boxes and more bags litter the weyr now known as Jaispe's, threatening to spill back over onto the ledge, where Lultiath has been driven by the clutter. The pudgy dragon has her head in the door but no more, as she makes unladylike squawky noises that can only be reprimands for the current state of affairs. Jaispe just looks bewildered as she stands in the middle of the mess of her belongings, rubbing her head. "I just /know/ that was the one I put my clothes in," she remarks, looking at one open box that contains no clothes at all, just useless knicknacks she's collected. Satiet's arrival is nothing special, a slim, slight woman who strides across the bowl and makes her way up the wall hugging stairs that lead up to Jaispe's new weyr. At the top, the weyrwoman pauses, glancing about the ledge and its singular occupant and with a throat clear designed to catch Lultiath's attention if not her rider's, the raven-haired woman pauses just long enough to be polite before stepping closer to the once Southern gold and the inner weyr's entrance. "I would ask if you're settling in well, but it seems you've already-," delicately voiced, mildly sarcastic, "Made yourself quite at home in Josilina's old weyr." Lultiath does break off, mid-rumble, to blink her wide-set eyes at Satiet and then whuff at the woman, welcomingly. She pulls her snout back from the entryway, too, and apparently gives some warning to Jaispe, because the newly-arrived goldrider looks around, too. Meeting Satiet with a quick smile, she nods, until she shoots a sheepish glance at the mess. "I'm trying," she admits. "At least I hadn't exactly unpacked /everything/ at Igen yet. I kind of unpack as I need things, and you'd be surprised how long you can go without needing some things." Her nose wrinkles slightly, and she waves a hand around. "Oh! You should come in, and have a seat. Somewhere." "Somewhere." Again with the delicate pattern of speech, Satiet steps into the weyr gingerly, a nose wrinkle for the mess that she's faced with. "Satiet," the woman says by way of an introduction. "And I'll send in some lower caverns women to help you unpack efficiently tomorrow morning with your breakfast." Jaispe's quick smile is met with an impassive glance, scrutiny veiled behind the cool layers of her ice eyes, and what the raven-haired woman finds either agrees with her, or the turns of being a goldrider kick in as a more congenial smile floats to shape her lips dryly. "I'll assume you're Jaispe and that's the dubiously renowned Lultiath." "That's not really... I mean, if you can spare them," Jaispe says, glancing from Satiet to the watchful stare of Lultiath, who hovers still on the ledge. "I don't want to be a bother. And, oh! Yes, I'm Jaispe, of course, and that's Lultiath. Dubious renown, really?" She tilts her head slightly, curious; but a second later she adds an afterthought: "I already took the kids down to meet the nannies, to let them try to get settled, but you'll have to meet them sometime, too. Do you have kids? Saiphe's already complaining about not knowing anyone, having to leave all her friends again just when she was getting settled at Igen. I feel horrible about it, but--" She offers a resigned shrug, grimacing. Satiet dismisses Jaispe's concerns of sparing assistants with an easy gesture, a hand that lifts, fingers that flutter before dropping into a lightly held clench. "Dubiously known, yes. They feed their dragons well down Southern's way?" As for kids, the goldrider doesn't respond, instead moving to begin rifling through the top of one of the newest weyrwoman's boxes. Her face tilts, a brow lifted quizzically, "Until the morning, I can at least help you find something to wear tomorrow when we introduce you to the staff." Up. Down. Jaispe's attire garners a second glance. "You'll need something a little warmer." And more fashioanble looking if the curl at the corner of Satiet's mouth indicates anything. "It's so cold here!" Jaispe latches onto that statement, over discussion of her dragon's weight for the moment. "From Southern to Igen, that wasn't bad. I mean, all my clothes still worked, more or less, and it's a dry heat at Igen or at least that's what they kept telling me." Prompted by Satiet's own rummaging, and talk of clothes, she nudges her first box aside and reaches for another to open up and flip through. There's linens on top, but underneath a handful of clothes, if all summery, Southern-appropriate ones. "No better than up here, or, well, at least at Igen. I don't know how you feed them here. But Lulla's always been... big-boned. Is that what they call it?" She pauses, and then grins again, nodding toward the 'big-boned' gold. "She says it's insulation for the winter up here and you'll be sorry you don't have a little more weight on you when winter comes. At least that won't be for a while, though. It /is/ spring up here, isn't it?" "Dubiously." Fast becoming her catch phrase for this particular conversation, Satiet's return unhooks the disdainful little curl for Jaispe's lack of fashion sense, smoothing it into a thin and dry, but genuine smile. It's most telltale in her pale eyes as they warm up briefly in a second, or third, cursory once over of her new junior. "You should visit the weavers once you're unpacked." The unpacking process is helped by the slight woman, who having taken Jaispe's nudging of the first box as permission, has begun to rifle through the other woman's belongings. The knickknacks in abundance in this box are arranged on the large table in the center of the room. Moments of silence pass, the clink of glass and ceramic wares settling on the table, before Satiet speaks. "You must feel like the community runner." Satiet puts things neatly on the table; Jaispe leaves them lying in her wake haphazardly, moving on when she finishes with a box. "The weavers? I'll check them out, maybe for a couple of nicer things, but I'm sure your stores has lots of things, too, that I can check out," she remarks, as she finds within the next bag a collection of children's things. After rifling through it, she slides it aside and finally reaches pay dirt with the next: a bag of just her clothes at last. "Oh, here! Here's some. And, the com--oh, right. Well, sort of," she admits, with a rueful smile. "I mean, I understand why, but it's not really very... fun, to uproot again like this. Not that I'm upset or anything," is added hastily. "The Reaches seems really nice and I'm sure we'll love it here." Digging deeper into the box, the layer of trinkets is buffeted on the bottom by light scarves that Satiet begins to fold meticulously, setting them on the table in the interim as the stack of colorful fabric grows. With a tangerine scarf draped over her hands, the slight woman considers the community runner a long moment. "I don't care for those who perform lipservice. I'd advise you to reserve your judgment on High Reaches until you either love it here, or you don't. Don't be so sure you'll love it." But she's not without an iota of sympathy, the crystalline eyes drifting to find the large press that came with the weyr and moving herself and the stack of scarves she's just folded to it. "But for what it's worth, you're welcome here." "I'm sure I'll love most places," Jaispe admits cheerfully, as she looks to Satiet and then the scarf she holds. "Oh, that's where that one went! I've been looking for it since we went to Igen," she notes, while she pulls clothes out of the bag and walks them over to the table to lay them out, nudging aside the knicknacks to make room. "Anyway, don't worry, I try not to lipservice. I mean, I don't want to be mean or anything, but you know. Oh, you know," the young woman gives up on trying to explain, with a flutter of her hand. Her smile grows warmer, though, for the welcome Satiet offers. "Really? Thanks. I know I'm no Josilina or anything, and Lulla's, she's... Lultiath, but we try hard, at least. And that makes me feel lots better about being here, too. I was worried." Jaispe isn't clear yet, the porcelain carved features warmer, but certainly not lacking in Satiet's distant impassiveness when her face cants upwards to catch sight of the former Southern rider again from her place by the press. The reminder of Lultiath draws pale eyes to the ledge, a rock on bent knees suddenly bringing her back to her feet. "For all her girth, I hope she flies well. We're sore in losing Lhiannonth's clutches and she's certainly been a more prolific breeder than you." Which might just have to do with seniority rather than any physical issues. "And no. No, you're not Josilina." Flat-spoken, there's promise in the dry words that this isn't necessarily a bad thing. "It'll be different," Jaispe notes slowly, picking over those words. "This time. When she flies, just because she's only done it a couple of times, what with the interval and all, and she's always managed to get herself caught by the same dragon." Her lips purse slightly, smile fading as she shoots a look to the ledge, too. "But she's had good clutches, don't worry--she's a good mothery dragon," the woman hastens to add, determinedly light as she resumes sorting through the clothes she's turned up, pulling out the warmest-looking things from the pile and setting them aside. "We'll do our best, at least. And I bet you, um, have some good bronzes and browns here to... help?" Her nose wrinkles playfully as she finishes up and moves to take an armful of clothes to the wardrobe to deposit them. With the deposit of scarves into the press, Satiet deems herself done, standing to the side of the clutter with a slim hand resting against her hip. Sharp eyes don't miss the faded smile and the glance to the ledge, and pursed lips precede a quiet, cool share. "I have two daughters. They're just past two turns and are being fostered with my parents for the winter." The sharp chin lifts faintly, pale eyes visible behind the fringe of dark lashes as she looks down her nose at the mess. "Their," Jaispe's children presumably, "Father didn't accompany you?" "Twins?" says Jaispe. "You poor thing! Oh, gosh, one was more than enough for me, one at a time, I mean. Having them or raising them either one, come to think of it." She grins as she steps back out, and seems as willing to pause as Satiet is, moving to lean a hip against the table idly. "Saiphe was never any trouble, but Phaiseo, my boy, is four now and he's just got so much energy!" Like any quite proud parent, she seems eager to jabber on about her children, but the latter question makes her hesitate, and then shake her head slightly. "He died," she finally says, awkwardly. "A little while before they moved me to Igen. It, these falls--we haven't been doing so well. Southern hasn't, I mean, but has anyone, really?" Lacking apology, the Reaches' senior queenrider takes Jaispe's hesitation and response in stride; a faint lift of her brows couples with a smug curl that's fleeting off her face in a split second, barely visible if even noticed at all. Rather than answer the former Southern goldrider's question, rhetoric as it might be, Satiet remarks, "We'll be glad for your big-boned queen's clutches," where big-boned is said so lightly, so generously, that it's clear another, less flattering word, should replace it. "And you should find clothes for tomorrow morning at the very least. I'll send along some women to unpack and clean for you while you're in our morning administrative meetings." In the mean time, the slender woman strides from her spot at the side towards the entrance, pausing long enough to assess Jaispe's reaction. Likely taking Satiet's words at surface value, Jaispe nods to Satiet and musters a small smile for her. "Thanks. And... oh, right, if you think that's best. I suppose it would be faster than waiting on me to do it myself," she laughs sheepishly, shoulders lifting as she takes a glance around the cluttered room. Then, another thought occurring to her. "Oh, wait. What sort of things /do/ you wear to these meeting thingies? I mean, it's not fancy or anything, or just casual or...? Nobody ever really worried about it at Southern, or really Igen either. Dress code wasn't exactly part of my briefing with Josilina there." Smugness fades, disappointment edging about the pale eyes at Jaispe's naive acceptance of her comment. It stills the slight woman for long, silent seconds before her tongue is found once more, sharpened for its quiet time with two clipped words. "Anything clean." Then, Satiet amends that with a quick, mocking smile, "And age appropriate. You'll be meeting the lower caverns staff, the wingleaders. Tavrie." The last infused with a deliberate reluctance. "But I will expect you in the council chambers in the morning. Welcome, again, to High Reaches, Southern." "Age appropriate," and Jaispe sounds a little woeful about that. "I'll get Saiphe to help me, I think. She loves clothes and it'll cheer her up," she decides a moment later. "It'll be fun. But really, thanks, for being so nice about all this. I'm sure it's probably just as, you know, inconvenient for you, so. So I guess I'll see you in the morning? Right. So, well, good night, then. Satiet." Where she's her former home, the other goldrider is quite cheerfully named--anything sharp in her reply is brushed over easily, Jaispe undaunted. Satiet's poise stills at 'nice about all this', brows animating by lifting high along her forehead. But she says nothing else as the raven-haired woman turns on her boots and steps past Lultiath with an overt look of askance for the incredibly rotund gold's fatness. Steps. Bowl. Destination: her own weyr and away from this messy, overly cozy and cheerful abode. |
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