Logs:Work In Progress
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| RL Date: 3 June, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani finally comes to see Isyath and Vhaeryth's eggs, but gets more info on N'rov's work in progress. There is catchup, complaining, and making out in the galleries. |
| Where: Galleries, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 12, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, N'hax/Mentions, C'wlin/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, E'ten/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
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| Galleries, Fort Weyr The entrance to the sands and galleries alike is little more than an archway and a section of flat stone before it dissolves into the sands proper. Although it's warm here, it's not nearly as hot as the sands themselves are. To the right is a broad pathway leading to the stands, with a set of stairs leading up one side all the way to the upper tiers. Also visible from here is an odd engraving on the wall -- an etching that details the rotation of the Red Star. Lined along the right-hand side of the hatching cavern are the galleries, the seats carved from the stone wall and stacked backward to allow observers the best view possible of the golden sands. Those at the bottom are protected from wayward dragonets by a railing, while dignitaries from outside the Weyr -- Lord Holders, other Weyrleaders, Craftmasters and their ilk -- have a specially designated spectator's box at the topmost row. There are three separate flights of stairs leading into the galleries, with one near the entrance, another set in the middle, and a flight at the northernmost end. It's a gray day at Fort, particularly down low where fog lingers so clammily, but down in the Hatching Cavern it's glowlit well enough... and there are sounds of hammering. Vhaeryth's on duty with the eggs and it hasn't been so long that he doesn't look smug about it, too, his rider stripped to undershirt and light trousers while he works with a smith near the foot of the galleries. It's the smith who's getting to do most of the work, but now and again he gets to swing his hammer, too. The noise has cleared out the galleries somewhat, but at least the silently appreciative audience on the sands, thirteen strong, isn't going anywhere. Even a grey day at Fort likely has some benefits over the weather at High Reaches these days, but still it's taken some time for Iesaryth to be seen in the skies over the Weyr since Isyath's clutching - but given recent events, there's certainly reason for the pair to take their time in visiting. Though the sunny queen is there, present with the sense of the tide rushing in, she doesn't find her way to the ledges, perhaps mindful of the last clutch on the sands; perhaps content to see what there is to be seen through her rider. When Aishani comes in, she takes her time about it, not quite at her usual brisk walk, hands in pockets of her jacket, open over her sweater in anticipation of the heat. The hammering definitely gives her pause, draws her attention even before the eggs do - and it's something of a testament to her appreciation for N'rov that it lingers there for a moment before she looks at the clutch. Fine brows draw together in a faint frown, as if she's unaware. Vhaeryth isn't so bored that he needs the entertainment of waiting to inform N'rov of Shani's presence, or maybe he's not keen on the hammering himself, because it's just moments before N'rov's turning around with a grin. A few words to the smith, who doesn't seem to mind taking a break to drink something that used to be cold, and he's bounding her way, looking boyish and boisterous. Yeah, he's a little sweaty too, but at least his hands aren't when they reach for her. "You made it! Hey." Shani can't do anything but smile brilliantly in the face of all that, not even really minding the sweat when N'rov reaches for her - though yes, maybe she's ditched her jacket on the way. "Hey. Of course," she tells him, as if there were never any doubt, hands light on broad shoulders as she kisses him, briefly. She's a little distracted by whatever he was hammering at, though not so much that fingers can't twine into his curls as she peers over. "They look good. As much as eggs ever do. What are you doing?" Kissing him would be more of a reach than usual if N'rov hadn't bent down to accommodate them, as it turns out he's wearing sandals with substantially thick soles. The bronzerider ushers her toward the structure in progress, explaining, "We're having to be extra careful with this clutch, so there's a lot more staying here, so we might as well be comfortable, right?" Or maybe it's that N'rov needs a project to keep him from getting too bored. He performs quick introductions, the smith looking impressed and all too happy to explain in detail how the bamboo structure should make it more comfortable than the stone due to air flow, how there'll be a pull cord for a fan, things like that. "And it can be taken apart afterward," N'rov's compelled to note. The bronzerider gets something of the side-eye along the way, as Aishani wasn't exactly expecting to spend time in polite conversation, but that's not for more that a moment, and likely only noticeable to him. Still, she's polite in meeting the smith, in listening to the explanation with interested nods as she looks over the work so far - with the odd glance toward N'rov, faintly amused. "That all sounds reasonable. And..." Giving the area a once-over, she seems about to say something, her dark gaze critical, but leaves it at: "I suppose that makes sense, to take it apart." She doesn't sound entirely convinced. "There's no guarantee Hattie will want it," N'rov says, though how could she not, with all the work they put into their pet project?! "It also gets dry in here, and improvements can be made for the next iteration," contributes the journeyman. The men look at each other in a moment of shared, mutually-congratulatory understanding, but at least the bronzerider thinks better of subjecting Aishani to more of such talk, in favor of suggesting they walk back closer to the Bowl where it's cooler. Apparently the side-eye worked. Perhaps that's why Aishani said nothing about anything more permanent - it's not really her place to do so, for all she's used to telling people exactly what she thinks and expecting that they'll listen. And most of the time, go along with it. She's again all manners and impressed interest in her farewell to the smith, but she does seem relieved when N'rov directs them away. When they're out of earshot, quietly entertained, "I had a sense you could go on. Were you more interested in my seeing that or the eggs?" She reaches out to wind an arm around his waist, moving in close. N'rov drapes his arm around Shani's shoulders to match, tilting his head down to whisper, "Caught me." Whether it started out being true, it is now. "The eggs are going to stay pretty much the way they are for some time, but this is a work in progress." Once they're even closer to cooler air, he can talk in more normal tones, but he keeps with the up-close whispering anyway. Her ear's right there, after all, he'd better not waste it. "I want to ask you what we can do to make it better, but before all that, how are you? This place is sounding quieter and quieter by comparison, which some days feels like a switch." The whispering in her ear makes Shani smile, slow and wide, which might be another good reason to keep it up; she tilts her ear closer to his lips, lashes lowering. "You're a work in progress," she echoes, in the cadence of an eight year old, but low tones more suited to his quiet words, the way quick cool fingers find their way under his shirt to warm themselves against his skin. Wryly, "I hope it stays quiet - you're due that for one hatching. There must be a rule. And..." She trails off, sighs. "Tired, I suppose. Worrying about things I can't change. I don't want to..." Her gaze flickers up to him. "I hate to come here and just complain." If that smith could see N'rov's expression despite how his back's turned, he'd think Shani paid the bronzerider quite a compliment, given the man's smirk... right before he shudders. "Do that on my forehead instead, will you? Even though it's not as fun for you, I know." His voice turns wry like hers. "That one hatching had better be this hatching, too, not putting it off further. But since it is quiet now, complain away, I could use a little secondhand excitement. Who do you want to sentence to what?" There's a bench, and he pulls on her shoulders with the intent to walk them over to it and tug her onto his lap. With a little pout, "Your forehead doesn't feel as nice either. My hand isn't that cold, anymore." Anymore. Aishani's easily steered over to the bench, and if there's been a time that she hasn't been up for being in N'rov's lap, it's difficult to remember. At least she's not in a short skirt. Tucking long legs up so they curl against him, she has to abandon her hand-warming under his shirt for sliding arms around his neck, but she's not too broken up about it. "The guards will help," she notes softly, before distracting him with her issues. "I think I made things... not awful with High Reaches, the Hold. But those two weyrlings fucked things up pretty badly." A little twist of her lips, a shrug. Not much to be done. "Anymore," N'rov repeats right after her, and takes hold of her ankles so they won't fall down. Vhaeryth's watching the eggs, Vhaeryth's practically salivating over his eggs, all fifty-nine of them by draconic count. N'rov can take a break. Maybe they have more or less trapped the smith in here, but there's no hammering, it doesn't matter. "There shouldn't have to be guards," he mutters. "We can plan and plan and then suddenly a couple of kids come out of nowhere." If he should have sympathy now for N'muir's having to deal with him and E'ten, it doesn't show, probably because that's completely different. Iesaryth's certainly curious about the eggs, but it seems that she's fine with her second-hand view for now, decamped to the rim of the bowl, well clear of the fog. The whisper of ocean's waves is barely perceptible, but still there, at the edges. And maybe the smith can sneak by; they're not likely to pay too much attention. Dark gaze soft, Shani's hand runs through his curls as she murmurs, "Everything is different. Nothing is safe the way it was. If it ever was." After her Weyrwoman was murdered, their eggs were stolen, what's off limits after that? There's a little laugh. "Kids. One of them is older than me, one of my problems." A pause, then quietly, "They cost us part of the tithe. I thought of a punishment that was sadly prescient." Despite the seriousness, she wiggles her ankles lightly in his grasp. Caught. "Even my hair isn't safe," N'rov tells her regretfully, as though that could rank with murders and stolen eggs, some of them broken. "I'm going to have to clip it off until after the hatching." He firms up his hold on her ankles, but not too tight, what fun would it be without that room to wiggle. "There's no reason why he has to be reminded of that. How much of the tithe? What did you do? I'd say he could take a Turn off his age for every barrel that's missing." Affecting a tragic expression, dark eyes wide and mournful, "Is it all that warm?" Aishani's fingers will stay right there, if that's the case, toying with his hair while she can. After another little faux-struggle against his hold, toes pointed so it looks pretty besides, fine brows come together in a frown. "Well," she starts, "It depends if I managed to make it into a negotiation or not. But they started with two-thirds less. How many turns do you think that counts for?" Smirking for that, "The Weyrlingmaster did most of it, but I asked that they be put on limited rations for food and fuel, given they put our supplies in question." "Unless I wear a hatful of ice, yes," N'rov says, only to preemptively frown, because that isn't a feasible choice. It transitions well into the way he whistles through his teeth, not to pay insufficient attention to her pointy toes or anything. "It's a good time to be doing it." Winter is coming. "Are they repentant at all? They had better be, they're going to have even more people wanting a piece of their hides as it is. How're your stockpiles?"" Dryly, "Ice, we have. I can always bring you that. A hat made of ice." Because clearly, that would be comfortable. Shani isn't distracted enough by her tithe issues that she can't keep fingers moving, can't lean in to press her lips to that frown. "Mmm," she agrees against his forehead, before pulling back minutely. "I argued that it wouldn't be making any friends, that generosity might help tell a different story, but... my position was not one from which to argue for much." Shading towards grim, "I haven't spoken to them yet. Apparently, they have information, but I see no sense in rewarding it all with anything near approval. I'll wait. And... we'll manage. I'd been planning on sending the weyrlings South anyway - now that'll be a necessity." "Only if it's an ice tower of a hat that cascades champagne," the bronzerider allows. It's not impossible that he could keep frowning when she leans in, but with not only that almost-kiss but the attendant view, N'rov doesn't even try. Not that he looks as pleased as he he ordinarily would. "It wouldn't be, would it. If they were guaranteed to be dealing with you for the next generation, or if both of you were in on it, that might be a different story. I'm... impressed that you can hold back with information in the offing, though." His smile precedes, "Impressed and surprised, both. Foraging, then? I wonder if the day will ever come that all that continent will be Held. Hope not. It would take the fun out of it." And the survival for her Weyr, perhaps. "An awful lot to ask of a hat that might melt in less time than it takes to actually cascade champagne," Shani points out, though not with any particular fervor. She's not all that pleased herself, but there's a smile that probably ought not to be lurking around her mouth when she's discussing serious subjects. "I think... Yes, if things were guaranteed, or if relations weren't already a bit tenuous..." N'rov's pause and smile both have her trying to control her grin and the light in her eyes both by feigning disapproval, pointing out loftily, "I have demonstrated a certain amount of patience, historically." As for foraging, she can only shrug. "It's one way to handle a shortfall. I'd just been thinking the fruit would be nice. I'd think it's too big to hold all of it, but I suppose someone might try." N'rov waves off the implementation with a lazy, "Not my problem." He pats her ankles, which are, in an equal lack of hurry. "Historically, yes. A rational man could be forgiven for thinking you'd gotten it out of your system." Rather than claim to be such a man, he smirks at her. "Bring me some fruit, then? I'd guess not someone but someones, but even a Fax probably wouldn't have wanted to start from scratch. Now, will the two troubled weyrlings be sent South as well? And left there?" Raising a knee to poke a booted toe at his hand, "Gotten what, patience out of my system? Are you saying I'm impatient about information, or about everything?" Aishani has a slow smile for that smirk, settling arms more comfortably around his neck as she adds innocently, "I'd say you're on the receiving end of my patience on fairly regular basis. And I'm not going, but I suppose I could bring you something. If you're nice to me." Wrinkling her nose at his last, "Don't tempt me. I'm not sure, I imagine that'll be up to Quinlys. Though if it makes them miserable to stay home while the rest go, then... I'm all for it." If she's going to do that, N'rov will have to grip her ankle above that toe and start sliding it slowly off his knee, see if she really wants to go there. "I'm also on the receiving end of your impatience, but not as regularly as I'd like." Now his smirk's more like a grin. "Let them sit and suffer. In the meantime, how will you know if you did manage to turn things into a negotiation? Does it count as a negotiation if your Hold gives you dessert for good behavior?" "What are you doing?" Shani doesn't pull her ankle out of his grasp, not yet, but tugs as if she might, giving him a narrowed, suspicious look that would be more effective if she weren't grinning back. "And I'm a little impatient after seeing you half-dressed and at work, but we have an audience." Not that it's stopping her from being in his lap, or wrapped around him, but still. "That's the hope, the suffering. Fear and suffering." Her brows come together in a frown again, 'scary'-faced. "Shhh. Let me think it's my keen bargaining skills that saved the day, if they did. And I suppose if more than a third of the tithe turns up. At least I know, yes?" It's something. "I'm protecting myself from being impaled by your boot," N'rov explains. "It's a safety issue. Not only do we have an audience," which he otherwise seems to be ignoring, "but Vhaeryth needs to stay put. However, we could take your fear, suffering, and keen bargaining skills up to the top of the galleries, yes?" It's something. "It's not that pointy. Unless you think I have something concealed in the toes. Wouldn't that be clever." Aishani tries to point her toe up towards N'rov's hand, but given he's caught her ankle, it's next to impossible. "I couldn't impale you right now even if I did." There's a flicker of glance up to the top of said galleries that turns long-suffering; it'll do. So, so resigned as she reluctantly slides from his lap, "All right. But if anyone comes looking for you, I'm just making up another name." That'll work! "You are known to be clever." It may not be clever for him to put her foot down, but N'rov does it anyway. "Let's hurry, before people show up." In the galleries, on the sands, either way. "Or," the bronzerider pauses rather than hotfoot it to the pleasantly dark upper stairs, those gray eyes amused for all that he doesn't actually smirk. "We could just stay here and think of names?" Even if it's an obvious compliment, it's one Shani likes, that she fairly preens for, smiling up at him - though his last has that sharpening into a smirk. She takes his hand anyway, sweeping up her jacket from where she'd left it - no evidence even! - and starts to lead him him up the stairs. Quickly. "Why not see how clever? Or are you planning on being particularly distracting?" Her brows arch his way questioningly, but she doesn't seem to expect much of an answer, especially when they get to where she can pull him into that pleasant dark, and into her arms. Though not much later, breathily, "Should have worn a skirt." |
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