Logs:Wrong Person
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| RL Date: 16 June, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Valenros |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Valenros is looking for somebody. It's not H'kon. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 1, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
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| Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr Time has not only slowed to a standstill, but started to back up. Or so it may seem. Mostly, the Weyr's stores host people looking for things, taking. Today, the opposite. Today, Alpine's compact wingsecond is moving from place to place, a bag slung over his shoulder, and various supplies going from his duffel and back onto the shelves. It's not the sort of thing that takes time. It is the sort of thing that takes space, that bag, plus H'kon, blocking off the better part of the aisle he's in. "Are you sure this is where-" says one voice, a ripple of confusion in the man's voice. "Yeahyeahyeah, just go down there, take a right, and he said he'd be waiting by them shelves." The second voice is younger, more clipped and energetic. "Ok, thank you." Valenros hovers in the main hallway of the stores, a crumpled looking letter in his hands. His brown eyes seek out something, his mouth falling into a frown. "Would you-" he starts, speaking to the boy who had entered with him, but turns only to find the weyrbrat has already made his escape. "Great." Slow strides carry him near the open stores, a cursory gaze seeping through, until his eyes fall on the dragonriders. "Excuse me.. ah.. have you seen a short man, about ye high with reddish hair come this way?" All of his words are punctuated by hand gestures and a hesitant tone. H'kon is in the process of re-shelving what appears to be a sheet, not overly worn, folded overly neatly. He's bending for the next article when there's that 'excuse me' (the rest filtered out, seemingly, in its lead-up), and H'kon stops, straightens. The brownrider looks to the taller man's hand. Looks back to the taller man himself. "I've not." Though he casts a quick glance about the place nonetheless. There is a brief glance for the sheet - as if that's not odd - but his expression doesn't reflect his inner thoughts, if there are any. "Anyone at all.. besides you?" Valenros says in a near squeaky-whisper. He suddenly looks stricken, his eyes casting about all over. "I was sure he would be. Surely he wouldn't leave a message for me to come here if he wasn't coming himself. I can't understand why." This all said to himself, his eyebrows knitting over turbulent brown eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to.. bother.. you." H'kon is not at all worried with inner-thoughts, looking back to this other, and waiting through that excess of information not intended for him, one foot pivoting at the heel so that his toe can nudge against the bag beside him. "There have been two others I've seen. I don't believe," though he doesn't sound entirely certain, "that they matched your description." Blink. Valenros breathes a gusty sigh, shuffling his feet in place. "Ok, yeah, thanks anyway." He folds the letter into a precise square until it's about the size of a mark and shoves it into one of his pockets. "I didn't mean to bother you, really." Pause. "And since I'm here.. do you need any help with that?" as he gestures to the bag that H'kon's unloading onto the shelves. The other man's shuffling just makes H'kon stand straighter, that toe leaving the duffel be. His chest rises and falls, and then the rider shakes his head. "It's fine." With one hand coming forward, palm up toward Valenros, "I'm fine." His chin lifts, faintly, though he sounds a bit forced when asking, "You were looking only for a person?" "Only a person. One person. With.. reddish hair. Kind of a big nose. Short. Unpleasant. Smells like onions." Valenros shrugs his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest. "But if you say you haven't seen him, I doubt he snuck by.. he's not the subtle type." He looks meaningfully at the brownrider's bag, but doesn't push the issue anymore; offer presumably stands. The beginning of a furrow on the brownrider's brow is really the only indication he gives of any strangeness he finds in the meeting. "Indeed," comes as a sort of stilted agreement. A curt nod is issued, and he bends to that bag, then, taking out another meticulousl folded item, this one a bit of a heavier blanket, and holding it at chest level, scanning for like items on the shelf. Valenros opens his mouth as if to say more, but the dragonrider is busy attending to his sack with its assortment of linens and the young man doesn't have much to say about that. He nods his head to himself, waving a hand as he passes by H'kon, "Good luck.. with that." His head stays down, his shoulders hunched as he makes a quiet walk back towards the kitchen. "And you," is quick dismissal. H'kon catches Valenros' retreat out of the corner of his eye, turning a moment to watch him go, that furrow reappearing on his brow. That watchfulness might stay a while, as he finishes his task; still, he says nothing more. |
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