NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Logs:Blood and Family

2012-04-29T02:44:23Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Hypatia
| where = High Reaches Hold
| what = There's more to healing than just understanding a disease.
| when = Day 14, Month 8, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.28
| quote = Thank you for being here.
| weather =
| categories = Vignette
| mentions = Rynien, Issedi, Kh'ry, Iolene, Emme, Braeden, Shaie, Sa'zl
| icons = hypatia exhausted.png
| log = It was only the day after the announcement of Rynien's death that green Caerayith's paws settled on the ground of High Reaches Hold, morning sun reflecting off her wings. She was almost instantly antsy, the second they landed; the dragon could tell that something has upset her I'han, and that his friend Hypatia wasn't faring much better. What, she couldn't possibly have told anyone -- it was beyond her reach why they were so hurt by something that didn't really seem to have any hold on them at all.

''<< Did you even *like* him? >>'' she demanded of her rider, but I'han just shrugged it off, told her it wasn't quite like that -- it didn't work that way. She would never understand, but within moments, she let it go.

Just as I'han and Hypatia had to let go of each other. A brief hand squeeze, and they both left Caerayith behind, off to different tasks -- to different people to speak to. Why I'han was there Hypatia didn't even quite follow, since his family wasn't the sort to be so closely tied to the Lord Holder that reactions to his death necessitated an actual visit. But he'd been planning to go anyway, and was kind enough to invite her along, which saved her the trouble of nagging Sa'zl to take her instead. The bluerider had offered once to give her rides, but I'han was so often visiting the hold anyway it became rather a non-issue.

And this was a prompt visit. Something that needed to happen then, immediately. She was lucky she didn't have to be kept waiting for anyone or anything except herself to get moving, and get moving she did, making her way through familiar land and familiar halls until she found herself walking down the stairs into the office her mother kept.

"Mum," she said.

Hadass was sitting at her desk, of course; there was a pencil in her hand, she was staring at her work, but the pencil wasn't moving. She barely registered Hypatia's voice at first -- it took her a moment, and then she lifted her head. A sad smile formed on her face; moments later, assistant headwoman had healer apprentice wrapped firmly in her embrace.

"Thank you, darling," she whispered into Hypatia's hair, letting her daughter bury her head against her neck. "Thank you for being here."

So they just held each other like that a few minutes -- just being together, letting the moment just sit as it was. It was hard for Hypatia to understand why being here was so important to her; she didn't even ''like'' Rynien, not really. But Shaie was her mother's friend. Her father painted the Lord Holder's portrait. She was told that when they were young boys, Haley and Braeden had gotten on. Her family wasn't Blooded, but they were intricately linked with the Blood of High Reaches.

And none of her family knew she was friends with islanders. Exiles. None of her family knew how much she liked spending time with Iolene, who always cheered her up; none of them knew how she enjoyed talking puzzles with Emme and her dragon. Nobody knew how she used to flirt back and forth with Kh'ry, back when they saw each other more. She kept that secret. She knew it'd break them. She was meant to feel how they did -- like those people were out of sight and out of mind, all the time.

Like the ones who ''were'' Blooded, the way they weren't, didn't matter to anything.

Hypatia couldn't find an opinion on that anywhere in her heart. Couldn't reconcile the people she had met who claimed to have Blood with what her parents said about them.

Keeping that secret, though, didn't matter now.

Now she had to be there for the ones who were suffering. For her mother, who had to be strong for Shaie, and could only fall apart in private. For her father and brother, who both had a tendency to distance themselves emotionally. She didn't matter as much. She had left. They didn't see her as a deserter, though; she was lucky that her family wasn't angry with her. That her appearance was appreciated. Valued.

Hadass clung to her so hard her ribs almost broke.

"Of course I'm here," Hypatia whispered back, as the hug separated and the two of them simply stood in the middle of the office, her thinking about maybe sitting on her mother's shared desk. "Where else would I be? I don't know how long I can stay, but I'll be here for the memorial --"

"We don't know yet exactly when that is." The voice from behind her was Ezekiel's; Hypatia spun around to face him, smiling. Probably smiling happier than she should be, considering the circumstances, but she was glad to see him. Rapidly, she forced the happy look away.

"Zeke. How's Issedi?" While she didn't know Rynien's daughter well, Ezekiel did; he'd been sweet on her as a kid, and now as far as she knew, they were friends. So when his face fell a little, guilt instantly rose again.

He scratched his chin a second, and then said, "We -- haven't spoken. I haven't seen her yet. I don't know when I will."

"Okay. And I mean, whenever it is. Il and I will be here for it. Caerayith doesn't mind hanging out on the lawn, and I can get out of work just as easy as he can get out of wing duties --"

The next words out of Hypatia's mother shocked her.

They likely shocked Ezekiel just as much.

"You don't have to throw your life aside for us," she said.

And, forcing herself not to stare, Hypatia replied, "It's just a few days."

Hadass looked relieved. Almost happy.

Ezekiel's tight shoulders appeared to relax.

There was a lot more to healing people than understanding a disease, she had come to learn. Right then, her family needed healing; her Hold needed healing. And as much of that as she could bring to them, she would.

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Logs:Blood and Family

2012-04-28T22:36:16Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Hypatia
| where = High Reaches Hold
| what = There's more to healing than just understanding a disease.
| when = Day 14, Month 8, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.28
| quote = Thank you for being here.
| weather =
| categories = General, Vignette
| mentions = Rynien, Issedi, Kh'ry, Iolene, Emme, Braeden, Shaie, Sa'zl
| icons = hypatia exhausted.png
| log = It was only the day after the announcement of Rynien's death that green Caerayith's paws settled on the ground of High Reaches Hold, morning sun reflecting off her wings. She was almost instantly antsy, the second they landed; the dragon could tell that something has upset her I'han, and that his friend Hypatia wasn't faring much better. What, she couldn't possibly have told anyone -- it was beyond her reach why they were so hurt by something that didn't really seem to have any hold on them at all.

''<< Did you even *like* him? >>'' she demanded of her rider, but I'han just shrugged it off, told her it wasn't quite like that -- it didn't work that way. She would never understand, but within moments, she let it go.

Just as I'han and Hypatia had to let go of each other. A brief hand squeeze, and they both left Caerayith behind, off to different tasks -- to different people to speak to. Why I'han was there Hypatia didn't even quite follow, since his family wasn't the sort to be so closely tied to the Lord Holder that reactions to his death necessitated an actual visit. But he'd been planning to go anyway, and was kind enough to invite her along, which saved her the trouble of nagging Sa'zl to take her instead. The bluerider had offered once to give her rides, but I'han was so often visiting the hold anyway it became rather a non-issue.

And this was a prompt visit. Something that needed to happen then, immediately. She was lucky she didn't have to be kept waiting for anyone or anything except herself to get moving, and get moving she did, making her way through familiar land and familiar halls until she found herself walking down the stairs into the office her mother kept.

"Mum," she said.

Hadass was sitting at her desk, of course; there was a pencil in her hand, she was staring at her work, but the pencil wasn't moving. She barely registered Hypatia's voice at first -- it took her a moment, and then she lifted her head. A sad smile formed on her face; moments later, assistant headwoman had healer apprentice wrapped firmly in her embrace.

"Thank you, darling," she whispered into Hypatia's hair, letting her daughter bury her head against her neck. "Thank you for being here."

So they just held each other like that a few minutes -- just being together, letting the moment just sit as it was. It was hard for Hypatia to understand why being here was so important to her; she didn't even ''like'' Rynien, not really. But Shaie was her mother's friend. Her father painted the Lord Holder's portrait. She was told that when they were young boys, Haley and Braeden had gotten on. Her family wasn't Blooded, but they were intricately linked with the Blood of High Reaches.

And none of her family knew she was friends with islanders. Exiles. None of her family knew how much she liked spending time with Iolene, who always cheered her up; none of them knew how she enjoyed talking puzzles with Emme and her dragon. Nobody knew how she used to flirt back and forth with Kh'ry, back when they saw each other more. She kept that secret. She knew it'd break them. She was meant to feel how they did -- like those people were out of sight and out of mind, all the time.

Like the ones who ''were'' Blooded, the way they weren't, didn't matter to anything.

Hypatia couldn't find an opinion on that anywhere in her heart. Couldn't reconcile the people she had met who claimed to have Blood with what her parents said about them.

Keeping that secret, though, didn't matter now.

Now she had to be there for the ones who were suffering. For her mother, who had to be strong for Shaie, and could only fall apart in private. For her father and brother, who both had a tendency to distance themselves emotionally. She didn't matter as much. She had left. They didn't see her as a deserter, though; she was lucky that her family wasn't angry with her. That her appearance was appreciated. Valued.

Hadass clung to her so hard her ribs almost broke.

"Of course I'm here," Hypatia whispered back, as the hug separated and the two of them simply stood in the middle of the office, her thinking about maybe sitting on her mother's shared desk. "Where else would I be? I don't know how long I can stay, but I'll be here for the memorial --"

"We don't know yet exactly when that is." The voice from behind her was Ezekiel's; Hypatia spun around to face him, smiling. Probably smiling happier than she should be, considering the circumstances, but she was glad to see him. Rapidly, she forced the happy look away.

"Zeke. How's Issedi?" While she didn't know Rynien's daughter well, Ezekiel did; he'd been sweet on her as a kid, and now as far as she knew, they were friends. So when his face fell a little, guilt instantly rose again.

He scratched his chin a second, and then said, "We -- haven't spoken. I haven't seen her yet. I don't know when I will."

"Okay. And I mean, whenever it is. Il and I will be here for it. Caerayith doesn't mind hanging out on the lawn, and I can get out of work just as easy as he can get out of wing duties --"

The next words out of Hypatia's mother shocked her.

They likely shocked Ezekiel just as much.

"You don't have to throw your life aside for us," she said.

And, forcing herself not to stare, Hypatia replied, "It's just a few days."

Hadass looked relieved. Almost happy.

Ezekiel's tight shoulders appeared to relax.

There was a lot more to healing people than understanding a disease, she had come to learn. Right then, her family needed healing; her Hold needed healing. And as much of that as she could bring to them, she would.

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Logs:Blood and Family

2012-04-28T22:35:37Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Hypatia | where = High Reaches Hold | what = There's more to healing than just understanding a disease. | when = Day 14, Month 8, Turn 28 | gamedate = 2012.04.28 |..."

{{ Log
| who = Hypatia
| where = High Reaches Hold
| what = There's more to healing than just understanding a disease.
| when = Day 14, Month 8, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.28
| quote = Thank you for being here.
| weather =
| categories = General, Vignette
| mentions = Rynien, Issedi, Kh'ry, Iolene, Emme, Braeden, Shaie
| icons = hypatia exhausted.png
| log = It was only the day after the announcement of Rynien's death that green Caerayith's paws settled on the ground of High Reaches Hold, morning sun reflecting off her wings. She was almost instantly antsy, the second they landed; the dragon could tell that something has upset her I'han, and that his friend Hypatia wasn't faring much better. What, she couldn't possibly have told anyone -- it was beyond her reach why they were so hurt by something that didn't really seem to have any hold on them at all.

<< Did you even *like* him? >> she demanded of her rider, but I'han just shrugged it off, told her it wasn't quite like that -- it didn't work that way. She would never understand, but within moments, she let it go.

Just as I'han and Hypatia had to let go of each other. A brief hand squeeze, and they both left Caerayith behind, off to different tasks -- to different people to speak to. Why I'han was there Hypatia didn't even quite follow, since his family wasn't the sort to be so closely tied to the Lord Holder that reactions to his death necessitated an actual visit. But he'd been planning to go anyway, and was kind enough to invite her along, which saved her the trouble of nagging Sa'zl to take her instead. The bluerider had offered once to give her rides, but I'han was so often visiting the hold anyway it became rather a non-issue.

And this was a prompt visit. Something that needed to happen then, immediately. She was lucky she didn't have to be kept waiting for anyone or anything except herself to get moving, and get moving she did, making her way through familiar land and familiar halls until she found herself walking down the stairs into the office her mother kept.

"Mum," she said.

Hadass was sitting at her desk, of course; there was a pencil in her hand, she was staring at her work, but the pencil wasn't moving. She barely registered Hypatia's voice at first -- it took her a moment, and then she lifted her head. A sad smile formed on her face; moments later, assistant headwoman had healer apprentice wrapped firmly in her embrace.

"Thank you, darling," she whispered into Hypatia's hair, letting her daughter bury her head against her neck. "Thank you for being here."

So they just held each other like that a few minutes -- just being together, letting the moment just sit as it was. It was hard for Hypatia to understand why being here was so important to her; she didn't even ''like'' Rynien, not really. But Shaie was her mother's friend. Her father painted the Lord Holder's portrait. She was told that when they were young boys, Haley and Braeden had gotten on. Her family wasn't Blooded, but they were intricately linked with the Blood of High Reaches.

And none of her family knew she was friends with islanders. Exiles. None of her family knew how much she liked spending time with Iolene, who always cheered her up; none of them knew how she enjoyed talking puzzles with Emme and her dragon. Nobody knew how she used to flirt back and forth with Kh'ry, back when they saw each other more. She kept that secret. She knew it'd break them. She was meant to feel how they did -- like those people were out of sight and out of mind, all the time.

Like the ones who ''were'' Blooded, the way they weren't, didn't matter to anything.

Hypatia couldn't find an opinion on that anywhere in her heart. Couldn't reconcile the people she had met who claimed to have Blood with what her parents said about them.

Keeping that secret, though, didn't matter now.

Now she had to be there for the ones who were suffering. For her mother, who had to be strong for Shaie, and could only fall apart in private. For her father and brother, who both had a tendency to distance themselves emotionally. She didn't matter as much. She had left. They didn't see her as a deserter, though; she was lucky that her family wasn't angry with her. That her appearance was appreciated. Valued.

Hadass clung to her so hard her ribs almost broke.

"Of course I'm here," Hypatia whispered back, as the hug separated and the two of them simply stood in the middle of the office, her thinking about maybe sitting on her mother's shared desk. "Where else would I be? I don't know how long I can stay, but I'll be here for the memorial --"

"We don't know yet exactly when that is." The voice from behind her was Ezekiel's; Hypatia spun around to face him, smiling. Probably smiling happier than she should be, considering the circumstances, but she was glad to see him. Rapidly, she forced the happy look away.

"Zeke. How's Issedi?" While she didn't know Rynien's daughter well, Ezekiel did; he'd been sweet on her as a kid, and now as far as she knew, they were friends. So when his face fell a little, guilt instantly rose again.

He scratched his chin a second, and then said, "We -- haven't spoken. I haven't seen her yet. I don't know when I will."

"Okay. And I mean, whenever it is. Il and I will be here for it. Caerayith doesn't mind hanging out on the lawn, and I can get out of work just as easy as he can get out of wing duties --"

The next words out of Hypatia's mother shocked her.

They likely shocked Ezekiel just as much.

"You don't have to throw your life aside for us," she said.

And, forcing herself not to stare, Hypatia replied, "It's just a few days."

Hadass looked relieved. Almost happy.

Ezekiel's tight shoulders appeared to relax.

There was a lot more to healing people than understanding a disease, she had come to learn. Right then, her family needed healing; her Hold needed healing. And as much of that as she could bring to them, she would.

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Logs:A Night at the Stables

2012-04-27T04:42:55Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Iolene, Damaris, Evali | where = Stables, High Reaches Weyr | what = Iolene and Damaris have a talk about freedom after settling a stubborn runner -- while encoura..."

{{ Log
| who = Iolene, Damaris, Evali
| where = Stables, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Iolene and Damaris have a talk about freedom after settling a stubborn runner -- while encouraging Evali to be a bit more social, you could say.
| when = Day 12, Month 8, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.26
| quote = I don't know why I'm telling you this. I- hmm... I should go. Good luck with figuring out what you want to do. /GOOD LUCK, EVALI/.
| weather =
| categories = Exiles, The Exile Queen
| mentions =
| icons = iolene.jpg, evali bold.jpg
| log = Stables, High Reaches Weyr
----
Taking advantage of a natural overhang in the side of the mountain for its roof, this building boasts sturdy stone construction braced by beams of tough-as-nails skybroom. Just inside a pair of broad doors, the ceiling rises a full two stories high for the full length and half the width of the building. Beneath the overhang, wide windows admit light and more fresh air, while opposite is the second-story hayloft.

The stables' main focus, however, is the double rows of stalls that line the walls below: one large stall serving as tack room, the rest housing a remarkable variety of beasts.
----

The sun sets late during a Reaches' summer, and it's still waning rose and golden above the western horizon right now as a roan runner comes trotting up along the windy path to the Weyr. Closer (and slower for that matter), Iolene swings herself off, keeping a firm grip on the reins and leads the unwilling mare towards the stables. "I don't have anymore carrots, I'm afraid," says the girl to the horse, "But maybe once we get inside, Jespar will have a treat for you. Yes?" Maybe she can really talk to animals, or the runner's whinny that elicits delighted laughter from Iolene is pure coincidence. "I thought you'd see it my way."

Because she is Damaris, she has found something to do that is not working, could pass as such for the naive, and involves talking. The young woman is perched on a stall door with her back up against the post, one leg dangling down over the side. She's currently running a comb through the mane of one of the runnerbeasts, picking burrs of some sort out with careful fingers. See? Productive. Meanwhile, there is a constant stream of chatter happening with one of those residents that _actually_ works in the stables most of the time; said stream is currently a bit of storytelling involving pokey bushes and someone getting stuck in them. Whatever the content, the young man is laughing and Damaris seems entertained enough by her telling. Who knows why she was chased out of the kitchen today.

The stables are an odd place to find Evali, who has no real affinity for animals besides her own dragon -- but nonetheless, here she is. It would be very easy for anyone who knows Yanijath to put the blame of Evali's presence firmly ''on'' her dragon, and the human of the pair certainly wouldn't deny it. She is apparently enjoying the warmth, wearing a skirt for once; something she hasn't done much since Impression. The grounds are unfamiliar to her, so as she steps in she treads softly, looking around with wide eyes and taking a moment to watch Damaris and her friends' conversation -- and then there's Iolene, a familiar face. Evali smiles brightly in the goldrider's direction, raising a hand in a mostly-motionless wave.

A kitchen girl here, a kitchen girl there -- sooner or later, they all become one blended face and Damaris not being in the kitchen wouldn't faze the approaching Io, that is if she were paying attention. The approaching, coaxing, beast-wheedling Iolene, who, so absorbed in her task misses Evali's initial approach in a succession of flattering words and coos to the runner. She might even sound like she's mimicking a mother, with a firmness not quite at home in her low voice, "We had our fun, now it's time to get brushed down, pampered and sleep. Night night time." Her point made, two stomps and a firm chin nod to punctuate, the blonde girl finally turns to lead the mare into the stables and catches sight of Evali. A beat skips, before a smile shapes. "Going to work up the courage to walk in to the stables today? Hey, hey- you? Person? Blondey? Pretty girl? Do you think you can help?" The runner, maybe sensing Iolene's lack of conviction in bringing her home, has now stopped cold in her tracks.

Oh. Damaris's attention swings over towards Iolene and the stubborn horse, story trailing off. There's a moment of staring before she's putting on a reasonably friendly smile, setting the big fat comb down and shifting on her seat to drop off of her perch and to the ground. Stretch. "Sure," she replies, tone as friendly as her smile. And then she's turning to her companion and lifting an eyebrow, nodding her head in that direction. He? Goes to fetch the runner, offering a shy smile up Iolene-wards. Still, Dam pads along after to 'help'. But he? Gets to deal with the stubborn parts. Thankfully, he's here because he may be good with such things. On the bright side, it looks like Dam's learned enough that she can gather up those tools which will be needed for the cleaning and the comfortable-making of the animal. Because she does this thing.

"As the lady insists," is Evali's answer, and she gestures with her head in the general direction of where Yanijath is probably sitting. "She is curious about runnerbeasts. Something Rhazekth said, I am sure; you ride well now!" Not that Evali ever particularly saw Iolene ride ''poorly'', but regardless of how stubborn the creature is, it looks pretty impressive to Evali. "I am sure you can aid in my courage by forcibly dragging me inside -- I know I can count on you for making me endure things that turn out enjoyable. What -- do you need help with?" Evali is lost; she's missed where the difficulty is besides that the runner doesn't want to be moving.

Io's blonde head tips to one side when, instead of Damaris, the even prettier one next to her approaches first. Her smile deepens, stretching up to squint her eyes as she makes a less than subtle appraisal of this boy Damaris has been entertaining, after which, her gaze flits to find the kitchen girl approaching as well. "I can understand why they might want to stay outdoors. It's so beautiful. It's so nice. Do you ride?" Though the question itself is posed at the boy, Io's quizzical features turn to Damaris first, and then Evali, where they rest and erupt into a quiet laughter. "Some day, maybe between Yanijath and me, we'll get you atop a runner. There's such freedom in it, Evali. Sort of like riding a dragon, but... different."

The boy? He smiles only a little shyly and nods his head in response to the question, reaching to take the bridle in hand and making a few comforting slash clucking noises to the runner to attempt to urge her further into the stable. "C'mon, pretty lady," he says, tone soothing. "Time to come in and get settled for the night." He is blushing some - given the appraisal - but he seems to compose himself reasonably well.

Damaris rolls her shoulders again and leans up against a nearby spot, still holding one of the brushes. She's looking curiously at Io and Evali, giving her own nod when the question is extended to her. "A little bit," she says. "Mostly I just fall off. Which I think that those moments between landings in the dirt still count as ridings." Beat. "So yeah." And another pause before she adds to Io's words to Evali, "Yes, it's far less distance to the ground."

Evali is definitely mirroring the shy smile, which in her case is directed primarily at the ground; at least at first. She is unable to not giggle, just the slightest, when Damaris makes her judgment on the difference between riding a runner and riding a dragon, and she actually pipes up to speak: "That is true, at least. I have never fallen off my dragon. Who, at this moment, says she is deputizing you," and as she says that, she's looking more at Iolene, "to boss me around, and she will scratch me and tattle to Ysavaeth if I refuse. She does not mind you riding runners, Ysavaeth?"

"And a runner can't catch you if you fall," interjects Iolene, tone impishly light. "Not that I've ever seen a dragon catch anything with those limbs of theirs. I'm Io. I don't believe we've met, though you do look kind of familiar." The appraising squint returns, even as she relinquishes those reins to the stablehand. "Were you the one that caught me in the stores eating the apples? No, I don't think. Maybe- no... No." With her blonde hair shaking about her head, she decides, "It doesn't matter. I'm Io. This is Evali. And I don't want to talk much about her today." Some of the teenager's good humor dissipates at the mention of her dragon, dropping the corners of her smile and sketching shadows in those dark blue eyes of hers.

Casual lean, cross ankles, look between the two. Damaris's smile is easy, and...she does not seem at all bothered to stay and chat instead of trailing on after the stablehand. He does send a bit of a reproachful look back her way -- hey, you're supposed to be helping me -- but nothing gets said, and he sets about the work all on his own. "Damaris," she offers as introduction, straightening only enough from her slouch that she can offer out her free hand for a shake. First Iolene, then Evali. "I don't think we've met, either. I work in the kitchens, though, usually...so that's probably why I'm a familiar face." A toss of her head, and once the handshaking is completed, she's reclaiming her very important job of holding up the post right there. She seems oblivious to any shadows, save a very slight tilt of her head.

It's an awkward handshake, from thin-handed, long-fingered Evali, but it ''is'' a handshake at all. The greenrider isn't quite limp-wristed so much as just naturally hesitant, and the 'touching of strangers when you meet them' modern tradition of the mainland Pernese is one that still hasn't quite stuck for her. "Nice to meet you," she says in a soft voice; when she turns back to look at Iolene, she simply smiles affectionately -- a wordless acknowledgement, more than anything, that she won't mention Ysavaeth. "If you need anything," she adds in her sister's direction, but if something's wrong -- talking about it in front of a stranger won't do unless it's Io who introduces it.
Iolene's touch lingers in that shake, as if still trying to place Damaris, in spite of her words. But then the hand moves on to Evali and then holding up the post, because if Damaris doesn't do it, who will? And Io's left standing there still studying the non-riding blonde girl. "Are you... are you an item with him?" Cutting straight to the chase, the goldrider at least leans in inquiry and tries to keep her voice hushed.

Again, awkwardness is seemingly ignored. Dam just offers Evali a reassuring smile (whether she sees it or not), and does the lean. Confusion briefly surfaces at the question of being an item, and then she's blinking and looking down the stableboy's way before returning her attention to Io. "No," she replies, shaking her head and offering up a wry grin. "No, no. Just, I'm working down here today. And we've been hanging out." A hand comes up, to brush her hair back from her face. "But thanks for asking." Beat, and she's noting Evali's way, "Nice to meet you, too."

Evali covers her mouth with her hand at Io's question, hiding the unbidden giggle that threatened to come forth at the straightforwardness of it. She shakes her head, but it's only just the once, brief and punctuated. "Do you -- often change where you work?" she asks, still curious -- or maybe it's Yanijath.

"So you don't mind...?" The implications of that voice trailing off could be anything, but with a second speculative appraisal shot towards that quiet boy and the drop of teeth atop Io's lower lip probably only has one real conclusion. That is, until a hip check attempts to unsettle Evali and push her out of the little trio of blonde girls and towards the boy. "So!" Regardless of the outcome of that hipcheck, Iolene turns a beatific smile upon Damaris. "Day off, kicked out, or looking for a new job?"

"Not exactly," Damaris tells Evali with a smile - and then she's laughing at the hip-check, eyes sparking with amusement. A glance down towards the guy (who is still dutifully taking care of the horse, blushing, and occasionally looking down towards the trio), and then she's looking back. Oh, that smile. Her lips curve up into an impish grin. "It was more a lightly nudged out, with kindness," she explains. "Or a strongly worded suggestion that _perhaps_ it would be best if I found somewhere else to make myself useful today because I wasn't being very useful in the kitchen." Beat. "It was so nice out today."

The question isn't whether Evali takes the hint, as she shoots Iolene a quick smile and then meanders idly in that direction, just waiting to see if maybe he'll actually speak to her and thus save her a bit of awkwardness -- but if she takes the hint ''correctly''. Is Io trying to get Evali to test the waters and see if he's interested, or set Evali up with him, creating some sort of silent shy empire? She doesn't seem to be able to tell, but that's not impeding her standing in between man and girls even as she continues her small part of the conversation. "It was," she agrees. "I cannot imagine changing jobs so frequently like that. Even though I've just started training and it is sort of like that sometimes."

Iolene punctuates a wistful sigh with the words, "I wish I could look for a new job." The grass, it's always greener on the other side. Feigning ignorance of Evali's indecision, and in fact, seeming to outright ignore the other girl in her idle meander over to that boy, Io turns her attention fully on Damaris, and it's only as her head turns, the shift of her eyes to try and spy out what's happening indicates any curiosity as to the state of Evali+boy. "Why ''don't'' you just work in the stables? Maybe only in the summers. You could be outdoors and hang out with all the cute boys and brush all the runners. It seems like it'd be a fun sort of job. And in the winter, you could work in the kitchen where it's all warm and cozy."

Well, the first indication that he's noticed Evali coming over is that he blushes a little more. Which means he may have seen the hip-check. He continues brushing the runner down, but after a moment does turn enough to send a smile in her direction, lifting his chin in greeting. "Hello," he not-quite-mumbles, before he's turning back to what he's doing. "You want to help?" Since the person who is SUPPOSED to be...isn't. And clearly if she came over, she wants to pet the runner. Right? That's gotta be it.

Meanwhile, Damaris continues to do the hardest job in the whole stable - hold the place up. With her shoulder. "I wouldn't want to work here all the time," she says. "Sometimes it's pretty gross. But it's nice to get out here once in a while. I like...the variety?" A look to Evali and then back to Iole, to ensure she's including them both in her response. "I'm good in the kitchen, I like the work, I really do. It's just sometimes I want to do something else, and...the world cooperates with me in granting my desire."

Well, actually -- Yanijath ''does'' want to pet the runner. But Yanijath hasn't got hands and can't fit in the stables, which means that Evali's going to have to do it for her. While she doesn't blush outright, it's because she's not much of a blusher; instead, she looks at her feet again before forcing herself to look up and just barely speak above a whisper to say, "If you do not mind an assistant with no clue at all of what she is doing. My dragon is curious."

"How..." The question lapses for a moment when Iolene turns her head to actually stare a moment at Evali and the boy and then with a giddy shimmy to her shoulders, turns back to Damaris. "How do you manage to do that? I'd love to figure out how to get the world to cooperate with- what was it you said? Granting your desires? Granting my desires. I feel trapped and helpless and it's a horrible place to be sometimes. I mean, clearly, not all the time, but sometimes it's nice to have freedom." Then there's that pause, and that odd, unsettled look that's followed by, "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I- hmm... I should go. Good luck with figuring out what you want to do. /GOOD LUCK, EVALI/."

"I'm Carver," he introduces himself, though there's no attempt made for handshaking or things. Because he's dirty and stinky and knows it. Instead, he just picks up a brush and offers it out Evali's way. "Here, like this," he says, and he demonstrates, up on the runner's rump. "You can do right here. You will not hurt her, I promise." A good solid thud, to demonstrate how much the mare does not care about such things. Reassuring smile. Because this at least he knows.

Oh, serious conversation moment. Damaris tilts her head and studies Io for a long moment, then just nods agreeably, "Of course," she says, hand coming up to shove her hair back from her face. "You ever want to talk about it, though? I can give you some pointers." A light shrug, an easy smile. "It was good to meet you."

It's actually a good thing, considering Evali's rather awkward take on handshaking anyway. She takes the brush, moving slowly, ever-cautious -- those wide eyes only unwiden by a fraction. As she manages to actually properly groom a runner without harming her ''or'' scaring off her present companion, Evali does relax a little. "Thank you," she says, starting to smile. "We appreciate --" That would be when she hears Iolene, and she whirls around -- without stopping the combing, of course -- to call back, "Good night, Iolene!" with a grin.

It's been an evening of bucket list check offs for Iolene, and she returns Evali's smile with an eye-squinted little smile of her own before turning one last time to Damaris. "Maybe. If you've got the secret to making the world spin on your finger, I'd like to learn. It seems like it'd be useful. Good night, Damaris." And off Io goes on that short walk back up to the Weyr's ginormous entrance and what lies beyond. Cookies? Alcohol? A comfy bed? Whatever.

Rather than interfere, Damaris saunters on over to her perch from earlier, hauling herself back up onto the rail and reclaiming her comb. She pats her lap, the horse comes over, and it's back to pulling burrs out. This time, quietly.

Carver continues with the reassuring smile, using a tone pretty similar to the one he uses on the horses. Reassuring, soothing, everything's-just-fine-here. "That's right," he says. He does chuckle at the spin and goodnight, and even nods after the goldrider, but soon enough he's looking back to what he's doing. "Sometimes you have to push a little harder to actually get the dirt to come out. You don't have to be so careful, but I'm sure she appreciates it. She's used to me and my heavy hands. You haven't spent any time around runners, then? Why not?"

"There weren't any," says Evali in a light-ish tone, as if perhaps this was a given; she expects everyone recognizes her as one of the islanders, after all, which likely isn't the case. "Where I was. And then I impressed fairly quickly, once we came here?" She's going a little bit firmer with the combing now -- reassured that she's actually doing it right and that more pressure will do it ''better''. Damaris gets a smile from her, one that's a cross between welcoming and 'help me.'

He totally starts to ask before understanding dawns and he avoids making a complete fool out of himself. "Ah," Carver says a beat later, all casual like. "Yeah, that would do it. You should definitely learn how to ride. It's entirely relaxing once you get the hang of it." And he's sliding around to the runner's other side, so that he can both brush and grin across the mare's back at Evali. Because he's relaxing more and blushing less, reassured that /he/ is doing it right. She's still talking to him! "It's good exercise, too."

Oblivious as she is, Damaris seems to sort of miss the nature of that smile. It's returned? But she totally stays where she is, combing the mare's mane out. She even starts humming a little tune. It's on key!

At least Evali's moving through life as a failure in socializing with non-exiles has a soundtrack! The greenrider almost seems amused, and somewhere off in the not-so-far distance, Yanijath is ''delighted.'' Iolene clearly makes the best possible deputy! "Io said that. Well, not that it was relaxing, I do not think; that I should try it, that it's different than dragons." She is at least getting the hang of this brushing thing. And maybe she's also getting the hang of that 'nerve' thing that Emme and Io have both been trying to teach her: "Maybe you could show me how, sometime."

"I have ridden a dragon all of once and I will agree with emphasis," Carver states with absolute certainty. "It is _nothing_ like riding a horse." He gives over a mock look of terror, and then it's back to brushing after another easy grin is sent Evali's way. At the suggestion that he show her how to ride, his eyebrows leap up towards his forehead before that grin of his is turned up like two whole notches. "I'd love to," he says. "Seriously, whenever you'd like, just come find me. My name's Carver." Pause. "But I said that already."

At her new friend's sudden almost stumbling over himself, Damaris turns her head and peers towards the two with a lifted eyebrow. She clears her throat, hums some more, and goes back to picking burrs out. No laughing.

"Well." Is Evali actually managing to make a new friend? Well -- she's trying. At least Io managed to pick out someone as shy and awkward as she is! "I can only reciprocate by giving you another chance to ride a dragon, but if you ever want one. Yanijath already thinks you are delightful." She's quite poor at hiding that Yanijath is really the boss; of course, she's just as much not ashamed of it. "I should probably -- get back to her soon, though. Night time oiling and all? But I will. Come by sometime."

Only reciprocate by giving a ride on a dragon. Carver gives Evali a skeptical look, but it's followed by an amused grin. "Yeah," he says. "Well, I'm easy to find. Usually right here. I'll see you...sometime." Beat. "Give my regards to Yanijath. And thanks for the help." He sends a look down towards Damaris that's more playfully-mad than actually annoyed.

She completely ignores it in favor of sending a sunny smile Evali-wards. "It was lovely to meet you," she notes. From her perch. Because she's not getting down again.

Evali doesn't really have a winning smile, but she has a sweet one; gentle and unassuming. "It may yet be only tomorrow or the next day," she -- warns, if her tone is any indication, but it's subtly teasing. She is not actually ''the worst'' ever at talking to people! "Yanijath much appreciates your attention and insists she will get me back soon to help you again. And that maybe you could come bathe her sometime, though that is of course unnecessary from my perspective." She finger-waggle waves her way away, and gives Damaris a similar smile on her exit. "You too. Good luck with -- your work!" And then she's off, back to a dragon in demand of an oiling ... and to talk about runnerbeasts ''all night.''

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Logs:Barefoot

2012-04-27T04:39:13Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Emme, Azaylia, Hypatia, Toren | where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr | what = Emme's looking for herbs. Azaylia and Hypatia are enjoying a summery lack of shoes. ..."

{{ Log
| who = Emme, Azaylia, Hypatia, Toren
| where = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Emme's looking for herbs. Azaylia and Hypatia are enjoying a summery lack of shoes. Toren wants a present for his mother.
| when = Day 12, Month 8, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.26
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons = emmeline.png, azaylia free.jpg, hypatia smile.png
| log = Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr
----
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora.

Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.

Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.
----

Watering, watering, watering -- it's watering time, and Hypatia is doing her best, apparently, to make watering time ''fun''. In her case, that means that she is dancing around the greenhouse barefoot, wearing a sundress, hair down and loose, singing a tune with no words so much as just syllables to keep the music going without having to hum instead, while carrying her watering can from plant to plant and making indoor rain to supplement what the pools supply. Perhaps it's a bit unusual; perhaps it's entirely characteristic. She certainly seems to be enjoying it, at least.

Well if it's not unusual, it's still definitely not what Emme was expecting when she stepped into the garden! "Welllll, hello there Hypatia. Aren't you cheerful today." The greeting is only mildly tongue in cheek as the brownrider steps into the gardens to head for a particular section of aromatic herbs.

Delicate and faintly musical hum announces Azaylia as she enters, any tension from overworked frame oozing out the bottom of her feet. Which also happen to be bare, her boots held in one hand as she takes the first steps into squishy, muddy soil. Eyes open to catch sight of Hypatia acting... well, like Azaylia. When she knows no one is looking, that is. And, Emme! "I-It's a beautiful, warm sun-shiny summer day. Who wouldn't be cheerful?" And did the Herder mention that it's /warm/?

Whirling around to face the new entrants, Hypatia looks a bit tired but otherwise not really embarrassed, she raises the watering can in salute to Azaylia's explanation as the beastcrafter and brownrider walk in. "Watering can be terribly boring, but enjoying the weather generally isn't, and prancing about like a child makes the task go by more easily! Also, I'm sure the plants are thrilled by the warmth and the added water both, why shouldn't I be, hm?"

For some reason the sight of someone voluntarily cavorting in muddy soil makes Emme smile with a bit of puzzled nostalgia in her expression. "There are some people I expect to see barefoot. But I always assume people brought up... here, just always wear shoes. Because, well, shoes. You have them. It's fun to see that I'm wrong." she quips, perhaps looking a bit sheepish when Hypatia opens up about the warmth. "Yes, it's rather warm. I'm going to head back into the cooler caves soon. I wanted some herbs to hang, for their scent. It'll help me sleep." She, of course, is wearing her predictable long sleeves despite the heat.

Toren is looking for a nice gift to give his mom and he doesn't have that many marks to spend. He has come to the greenhouse so that he can see how much some plants would be so that he can give to his mother. He spots some ladies here and he gives a smile, "Hello there, how are you all doing?"

Azaylia has the same tired, though happy aura as she walks deeper into the greenhouse. Hypatia's explination sustains a small smile on the apprentice's face, dropping her shoes off on a wooden bench just as Emme comments on their existance. She bites her lower lip, though releases it all too soon, "I actually, uhm. Prefer not to wear them. Is that... weird?" Eyes bounce between both of them, curious. Toren's entrance has her glancing over her shoulder, smile brightening at all of the familiar faces! "Hello."

"Shoes are kind of overrated," Hypatia agrees, though she's kind of blase about it, tone neutral as she waters another plant. "Sometimes it's nice to take a break from them, and a day when you're in a humid greenhouse and it's warm just about everywhere -- why bother? Hi, Toren." She hops to the next plant, giving it a nice long soak, and queries vaguely Emme-wards, "Do you mean here like the Reaches, or here like not the islands? Very different answers. Though I think everyone likes to go barefoot sometimes, regardless."

"No, no... I'm not saying it's weird. I just... the first thing /I/ grabbed when I had the chance was find nice, warm shoes." Emme explains. "Seeing you happily without them reminds me of the summers on the island. In a good way." is clarified, a glance up at the entrance when Toren enters cutting off her conversation so that she can nod a greeting. "Hello." is replied, in polite tones. "I meant here as in 'not on the island'. I suppose if a place is hot all the time, it would be more likely someone wouldn't wear shoes at all if they had a choice. Hmm."

Toren feels a bit out of place wearing boots and he slips out of them and starts to walk in bare feet. He picks up his boots and hangs them over his shoulder as he walks towards the others, "Is anyone in charge around here I would like to talk to someone about getting a plant or two for my mom. She's been working really hard with the children and I was thinking she might need a pick me up."

Azaylia watches Hypatia water the plants with as much envy as she can muster... which isn't a lot, really. In fact, she looks more curious than anything. "That's different." She comments, distractedly. Luckily, the young woman realizes that she's verbalized her opinion on Emme's previous quest for shoes. "Maybe because you didn't, uhm, have them when you needed them? ...gee, now I'm worried I might be taking my poor old boots for granted." However she may wilt, Toren has her blooming once again, hands folding under her chin. "Oh my that's so sweet. I'm sure your mother will love it." Excited voice is still quiet, though it seems as if she doesn't know who is in charge.

Hypatia hesitates for a minute, focusing more on the watering even as she's listening as words go by her ears. Recording them doesn't mean she's responding to them; not at first. Finally, she speaks up, "I think that would be the herbalists and the gardeners, none of whom are actually ''here'' at the moment. I can't actually let you take a cutting even though I work with the plants for classes, but you can go ahead and just look at them, see which one you like. Have you got a pot?"

"Oh don't be daft." Emme turns playfully scolding at the idea of taking old boots for granted. "I'm the one with the weird 'thing' about shoes, not you!" She even twirls a finger in circles at her temple to demonstrate. See? Kinda loopy here. "That really is a very nice gesture. I'm sure your mum will be pleased with it." she adds, before leaning over to sniff a patch of lavender. "Mmmm, there's some of this already dried in sachets nearby, aren't there Hypatia? Maybe I'll just grab one of those and stuff it under my pillow."

Toren smiles at the trio of girls, "Thanks, I sure hope she does. Only I've never picked out flowers before. What kind should I get her? What kind do you all like?" He asks as he looks around and shakes his head, "No do they have one here that I could buy?"

Azaylia squeaks at being called daft, or rather being told not to be so. It's a sound of surprise instead of hurt, which means the giggle slips from her lips easily enough at Emme's finger-twirl. "I'll stop, then." She vows, attempting to hide her smile-turned-grin with a duck of her head. Though the more Toren and Hypatia talk, the more her head tilts to peek over, intrigued. "So... anyone with a pot and maybe a mark or two can take a pet flower from the greenhouse?"

"It might knock you out," Hypatia warns Emme with a sidelong grin in her direction. "Some part of the population reacts terribly strongly to it, but if you've got it under your pillow I also suppose that's what you want, isn't it? Anyway -- there are. Sachets. You can take one, if you want." Like she can give permission; but if no one else is assuming control, well, she will. She is at least a healer and presently working there. "I don't actually know, Zay. I've not asked. Some of these plants wouldn't actually survive outside a greenhouse. Like my favorite, unfortunately," is meant more for Toren. Using her watering-can-free hand, she points at a large beige-colored tropical flower.

Emme tilts her head a bit to the side and allows her gaze to stray towards the entrance again. "I'm being summoned. Apparently Rhazekth has an itchy spot that he can't reach." She does grab a sachet of lavender before slipping out though. "Thanks! Knocked out is exactly what I want, else I'm up all night." is called over her shoulder. "Nice to see you all!"

Toren hmms, "I hope so." He looks around for a pot that he can have, "I don't want a very big flower, just something nice that she can have. Something that will survive for a while and doesn't require very much care." He looks around at the plants.

Azaylia is late to respond to Toren, so enamored with the thought of having a potted plant next to her bed. "I... don't think I have a favorite." Not that she's much help even when she does answer. "If I did, it'd be blue and yellow, I think." She offers a gentle hypathetical. Hands rise to overlap fingertips, pressing them against her lips in overly dramatic shock! Whereas others might offer sarcasm, Azaylia is genuine in her horror. "Oh, then I don't think I want to take any. I'd hate to accidentally murder any of the pretty flowers." Fingers are gentle as she strokes the petals of a tall, though somewhat plain blossom nearby. She didn't mean it, flowery friends.

"Eeeeh," says Hypatia, looking a mix of concerned and guilty as Toren continues to talk. She redirects her focus on the watering ''again,'' perhaps as if to not have to be looking anyone in the eye when she says: "I'm no expert on plants. I don't think I could narrow it down so well; you might want to talk to a botanist. When one is here. And I don't actually know when that is, either -- sorry." Azaylia's comment at least draws her back out of her guilt at letting someone down, just enough to say, "You can always come visit them here. I can tell they love you."

Toren nods a little bit, "I guess I'll just have to wait until there is a botanist around so I can ask them." He looks to Azaylia, "That's what I'm afraid of too I don't want to pick the wrong flower and have it dying on her. I need something hearty that flowers." He looks over towards the flower that Hypatia points out, "That's a beautiful flower. Did you grow that one yourself? Do you plant your own medical herbs?"

Azaylia tilts her head, giving Hypatia a little quirk of her lips as she plays along. "Really? I've never had any luck with flowers before... just animals." Though she's still stroking that fauna, seeming to realize that fact as her arm suddenly drops to her side. "But... visiting sounds nice. Does it stay this warm in winter?" Because she just may have a new hideout. Concerned brows pinch together faintly at Toren's words, nodding along with him. "That'd be just awful, so I understand. Maybe if I come in later and see a botanist I can ask for you?" As it really does seem like she may make a habit of visiting, leaving her generously sized footprints in the soil at a leisurely pace.

Laughing, Hypatia nods at Azaylia's question -- the one regarding the temperature, anyway. "It does. Well, maybe it's not ''quite'' this warm, but it stays pretty warm. I'm hiding in here a lot in the winter and I'm ''used'' to High Reaches winters!" Toren's query has her shaking her head, though; despite that, she seems almost honored as she replies, "Oh. No. Gosh no, I couldn't grow anything like that. I can pick up greenhouse chores but I don't really -- I'm not an apothecary. I study infections. Usually I'm asking other people to mix up medicines; I can do it but I'm not too fantastic."

Toren smiles, "I bet that it probably had to be nice and warm to keep all the plants growing, how do they heat it? Do they use the thermals or do they use wood fire?" He asks curiously and he nods, "I understand what you mean. I'm really good at playing and singing, but composing is rather difficult for me."

And lo, Hypatia did say that the greenhouse stays warm during the harsh High Reaches Winter, and yay, Azaylia did so gaze upon her with eyes far too big for her head in barely contained glee. And it was good. "We should have picnics." Comes the barely audible whisper of awe from the apprentice. With a little wiggle, she does her best to sink into an unmarked patch of wet earth, toes burrowing like bronze grubs. "I think... a lot of people have trouble with certain parts of their craft. I don't like..." She lifts her gaze, looking elsewhere as she gets the words out, "..making geldings."

Apparently, the part of her craft that Hypatia has trouble with is knowing at all how anything about gardening works, because her answer to the questions is basically: "Don't have a clue. I mean, I know there's a hot spring back there, and that the glass helps bring in heat during the ''summer'' -- but how they keep it rather warm in the winter overall? I don't know. I don't know I was ever taught in the first place, really." She shrugs, and changes which section of plants she's watering, feet going squish into the mud until at one point one of them almost sinks in. She yelps quietly, pulling it out, and at least does not up-end the watering can. "I like you, mud," she mutters, "why are you trying to eat me? Is that ''really'' necessary?"

Toren hmms, "Maybe they use some kind of special glass to keep the heat in and not let it out. Ooh a hot spring that is great." He looks over at Azaylia, "A picnic sounds great. I'll bring the music. What are you two going to bring?"

Azaylia giggles softly at Toren's enthusiasm, "It was just an idea, you know, when it starts to get cold here again." Phantom chill sets in, fighting momentarily with the humidity in the air, the cause of her sudden case of goosebumps. Hypatia's yelp has her head snapping towards the healer, eyes wide and frozen like a frightened animal. False alarm, and she gives a slow sigh of relief, "It might be because you're so sweet." Words drip with Azaylia's own brand of genuine saccharine goodness.

"What? Oh." It actually took Hypatia a moment to realize that Azaylia was talking about ''her,'' and considering the mud's taste in human feet rather than saying something about Toren being sweet. She looks at the harper and beastcrafter between plants, holding up her watering can practically next to her head as she does so. "Me. Right. I don't actually think I ''am,'' Zay; think that'd be you. A picnic in the winter might be interesting, though I've never eaten anything more than soup in here. Wouldn't want to make a mess."

Azaylia pauses in her steps as Hypatia disagrees, though the compliment keeps her from doing much else but ducking her head. It's a second for her to recover, though the words still bashful, "I think you are." Though there's no real weight to them, just incase she might offend. Something blue catches her eye, and she turns to inspect the pastel petals of a different flower. "I wouldn't want to make a mess either... It was just an idea." She repeats, sounding still a touch hopeful. "And we could be very, very careful." Another soul journey's into the greenhouse- a Journeyman, at that. Flaming red hair gets a ruffling as the rather robust Beastcrafter just stands and waits. Azaylia seems to sense his presence, turning and giving Mack a beaming smile before it's turned onto Hypatia and Toren. "Looks like I'm being stolen away." Though she doesn't look too upset by that fact.

Hypatia is nearly done watering, at least -- so she'll get to dinner soon enough. "We could manage to make it work, maybe." Azaylia's Journeyman gets a wave from Hypatia above the plants -- considering the height of the plants and the height of Hypatia, it's possible he only sees Hypatia's hand -- that is then repeated to be meant for Azaylia's departure, too. "See you later!" she calls. "Riding lesson tomorrow." Whether or not they'd discussed it before, Hypatia declares it to be so ''now.'' And, eventually, a botanist will even come by to help Toren after Hypatia escapes her watering duties for the day.

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Logs:Not for the Stipend

2012-04-26T02:00:50Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Evali, K'del/ST{{!}}K'del as ST
| where = Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Yanijath's friend was injured, so Evali has to go become a dragonhealer now.
| when = Day 9, month 8, turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.25
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = Exiles
| mentions =
| icons =
| log = Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
----
The vast cavern has much the same odor of redwort and numbweed as the human infirmary, though here it's seasoned with coppery ichor rather than the iron of blood. It's also laid out similarly though on a much more massive scale, its walls lined with a number of places for patients, in this case large dragon couches recessed into the floor for ease of access; nearby cots provide space for riders. Tucked into the western curve is a huge circulating pool of warm water, by which are kept vats of oil.

The healers' duty station is a counter on the north side of the room, a checkpoint before the storage rooms behind it that are now shared with the human infirmary, hosting supplies that are as neatly labeled and carefully scrubbed as the rest of the infirmary. The senior dragonhealer has an office there as well, and human-sized double doors have recently been built as a direct route to the human infirmary, while opposite a wide winding tunnel leads to the east bowl.
----

The dragon infirmary is rather quieter, in these thread-free turns, than it once was, but where there are dragons there are bound to be injuries, even so. This morning, it was a blue from Snowdrift who pulled some shoulder muscles and had to be sent in for treatment. Afternoon finds him resting comfortably, and the Capable Dragonhealer currently on duty - a mid-thirties brownrider named Jezeian - is keeping half an eye on him while restocking shelves and washing instruments. The blue's rider is there, too, but Sh'mal is sleeping curled up next to his lifemate, now, recovering from the stresses of the morning.

Snowdrift is Evali's wing, and the injured party Evali's wingmate; that, of course, was Yanijath's excuse. Just go along to visit. But by the time the pair left their weyr and settled down in the eastern bowl, Yanijath's persuasions had changed, to the tune of, << And now you can get that new job you keep talking about! Won't everyone be so excited? Aren't you? >> Evali certainly isn't one to refuse her dragon, and in fact Yanijath always gets her way -- so once she steps inside, she walks as confidently as she possibly can in the direction of Jezeian and her attention to supplies. And then -- stands there and fails to actually say anything. Signature Evali.

Jezeian is one of those people who, when left on her own, even when there are sleeping people nearby, talks to herself. "And we just need to refill these, for next time, and maybe get out another tub of-- Oh!" Having failed to note Evali's approach, the greenrider's presence nearby startles the brownrider, who gapes openly for several seconds before recovering her cool. "Is--" Her pause is only a brief one, probably allowing her time to confer with her brown, "Yanijath hurt, Greenrider? Is something the matter?"

Oddly enough, Jezeian's startle actually seems to calm Evali down slightly; her hands, at least, are not shaking (which one had been, but she'd had it shoved in her pocket) and she is able to speak without much of a waver in her voice, either. "I am sorry! I didn't mean to startle -- oh, no. She is quite fine. Just bossy, as per usual." There's a little hint of a smile in Evali's mostly forcibly-neutral expression, a fondness for Yanijath's ways. "Nothing is wrong, I was just -- wondering -- who I should be talking to about apprenticing." After that confession, her glance is pointedly redirected to her feet. Yanijath lingers just outside, but she's offering whispers of charm and affection at the injured blue.

It's 'bossy' that earns Jezeian's smile, formality altering irrevocably into amusement and vague fondness, which carries through her expression as Evali continues. Abandoning her stocktake, the brownrider wipes hands that probably aren't even dirty on her trousers, and says, "Well, first up, we don't call it 'apprenticing': it's much more informal than that. Trainees, that's what we call our students. Why dragonhealing? Just after the extra stipend?" The blue seems soothed by Yanijath's presence, if sleepy; the memories of hurt-hurt-hurt-ow are beginning, thankfully, to subside.

Evali looks surprised, and it's not at the fact she's gotten the terms wrong -- that's not news. What is, she blurts out without thinking about how stupid she must sound: "Extra stipend? Is there one? I -- Emme did not mention it, and if Mielline did I must have forgotten -- no, that is not it." She at least tries to smile at her own bungling; at least it makes her look more credible? Not that she'd think of it. Yanijath is pleased at her own attempts to soothe working out, and takes a couple of inches closer. Evali doesn't move to stop her -- yet. "I was a midwife, at home. On the Island. I cannot become one here; I tried, but I felt too old to start anew, and ... well, Yanijath. Others have encouraged me to try dragonhealing instead, and I am quite good with herbs and blends and have been told I have a healing touch. I would like to see how well I could do."

Hands wiped, Jezeian moves to rest them back on the table in front of her, fingernails tapping idly against the surface. "There is," she confirms. "A small increase, dependent on how many shifts you take." It's the rest of Evali's answer that she pays the most attention to, however; her blonde head tips to one side as dark green eyes survey the prospective trainee. "It can be a pretty physical occupation," she remarks. "It's pretty different to healing people. The medicines, too - but I suppose you wouldn't know much about healing here, either."

"Not really, no. I had a couple of lessons, and I spend time looking at the herbs, but -- I did not really learn anything about how it works," Evali explains, and while she is a bit waifish in build she does have height going for her at mere inches shy of six feet. "So I doubt I would really be confused or thrown off. I hope that helps." Now she seems more nervous; as if perhaps afraid she has more convincing to do. Even with Yanijath reminding her she asked Tiriana personally if she could stand and the Weyrwoman didn't refuse her, which Evali mostly shakes off anyhow. "And -- wingriding is very physical, too, more than I expected."

Jezeian's brows knit together in thought as she considers Evali's answer, but her ultimate reaction is a nod. "Well," she says. "We'll give you a try, at least. Or, rather-- I'll run you past U'sot, and if all goes well, we'll work out a schedule and get you started. There's a lot to learn, and I won't lie and tell you that you'll get plenty of practice, because realistically, we don't get ''that'' many injuries, but we'll see how you go. And that stipend won't start until you've got skills, but you'll get there."

"Oh! Thank you," says Evali, who ''very clearly'' was not expecting that as an answer. She picks up her head a little, shoulders straightening, and manages to be a bit less folded in on herself. (Yanijath is unable to hold in a croon; at least she does it softly, so as not to wake her sleepy wingmate any more.) "I am not concerned about money, truthfully; mostly I am just excited to be able to learn. I appreciate your speaking to me, ma'am." Does she know her name? Possibly; it's likely Yanijath has obtained it. Will she use it? Just as likely not.

"Jezeian," corrects the brownrider, absently, right after Evali refers to her as 'ma'am'. She's already got half an eye on her stocktake again, though not so much that she can't add, "At any rate, you're welcome. We'll see how you cope, I suppose." And, in case that wasn't obvious enough as a dismissal: "We'll be in touch."

"Jezeian. I appreciate it," Evali corrects, with a nod. It's at that point that she looks over her shoulder to Yanijath -- the green seems satisfied enough that she's backing away from the doorway, and Evali takes her steps in that direction as well. "We will get out of your way, then -- I look forward to the response," she adds, and then she's heading back to her dragon, to leave the brownrider to stocking.

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Logs:Not for the Stipend

2012-04-26T01:59:23Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Evali, K'del/ST{{!}}K'del as ST | where = Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr | what = Yanijath's friend was injured, so Evali has to go become a dragonhealer now...."

{{ Log
| who = Evali, K'del/ST{{!}}K'del as ST
| where = Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Yanijath's friend was injured, so Evali has to go become a dragonhealer now.
| when = Day 9, month 8, turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.25
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log = Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
----
The vast cavern has much the same odor of redwort and numbweed as the human infirmary, though here it's seasoned with coppery ichor rather than the iron of blood. It's also laid out similarly though on a much more massive scale, its walls lined with a number of places for patients, in this case large dragon couches recessed into the floor for ease of access; nearby cots provide space for riders. Tucked into the western curve is a huge circulating pool of warm water, by which are kept vats of oil.

The healers' duty station is a counter on the north side of the room, a checkpoint before the storage rooms behind it that are now shared with the human infirmary, hosting supplies that are as neatly labeled and carefully scrubbed as the rest of the infirmary. The senior dragonhealer has an office there as well, and human-sized double doors have recently been built as a direct route to the human infirmary, while opposite a wide winding tunnel leads to the east bowl.
----

The dragon infirmary is rather quieter, in these thread-free turns, than it once was, but where there are dragons there are bound to be injuries, even so. This morning, it was a blue from Snowdrift who pulled some shoulder muscles and had to be sent in for treatment. Afternoon finds him resting comfortably, and the Capable Dragonhealer currently on duty - a mid-thirties brownrider named Jezeian - is keeping half an eye on him while restocking shelves and washing instruments. The blue's rider is there, too, but Sh'mal is sleeping curled up next to his lifemate, now, recovering from the stresses of the morning.

Snowdrift is Evali's wing, and the injured party Evali's wingmate; that, of course, was Yanijath's excuse. Just go along to visit. But by the time the pair left their weyr and settled down in the eastern bowl, Yanijath's persuasions had changed, to the tune of, << And now you can get that new job you keep talking about! Won't everyone be so excited? Aren't you? >> Evali certainly isn't one to refuse her dragon, and in fact Yanijath always gets her way -- so once she steps inside, she walks as confidently as she possibly can in the direction of Jezeian and her attention to supplies. And then -- stands there and fails to actually say anything. Signature Evali.

Jezeian is one of those people who, when left on her own, even when there are sleeping people nearby, talks to herself. "And we just need to refill these, for next time, and maybe get out another tub of-- Oh!" Having failed to note Evali's approach, the greenrider's presence nearby startles the brownrider, who gapes openly for several seconds before recovering her cool. "Is--" Her pause is only a brief one, probably allowing her time to confer with her brown, "Yanijath hurt, Greenrider? Is something the matter?"

Oddly enough, Jezeian's startle actually seems to calm Evali down slightly; her hands, at least, are not shaking (which one had been, but she'd had it shoved in her pocket) and she is able to speak without much of a waver in her voice, either. "I am sorry! I didn't mean to startle -- oh, no. She is quite fine. Just bossy, as per usual." There's a little hint of a smile in Evali's mostly forcibly-neutral expression, a fondness for Yanijath's ways. "Nothing is wrong, I was just -- wondering -- who I should be talking to about apprenticing." After that confession, her glance is pointedly redirected to her feet. Yanijath lingers just outside, but she's offering whispers of charm and affection at the injured blue.

It's 'bossy' that earns Jezeian's smile, formality altering irrevocably into amusement and vague fondness, which carries through her expression as Evali continues. Abandoning her stocktake, the brownrider wipes hands that probably aren't even dirty on her trousers, and says, "Well, first up, we don't call it 'apprenticing': it's much more informal than that. Trainees, that's what we call our students. Why dragonhealing? Just after the extra stipend?" The blue seems soothed by Yanijath's presence, if sleepy; the memories of hurt-hurt-hurt-ow are beginning, thankfully, to subside.

Evali looks surprised, and it's not at the fact she's gotten the terms wrong -- that's not news. What is, she blurts out without thinking about how stupid she must sound: "Extra stipend? Is there one? I -- Emme did not mention it, and if Mielline did I must have forgotten -- no, that is not it." She at least tries to smile at her own bungling; at least it makes her look more credible? Not that she'd think of it. Yanijath is pleased at her own attempts to soothe working out, and takes a couple of inches closer. Evali doesn't move to stop her -- yet. "I was a midwife, at home. On the Island. I cannot become one here; I tried, but I felt too old to start anew, and ... well, Yanijath. Others have encouraged me to try dragonhealing instead, and I am quite good with herbs and blends and have been told I have a healing touch. I would like to see how well I could do."

Hands wiped, Jezeian moves to rest them back on the table in front of her, fingernails tapping idly against the surface. "There is," she confirms. "A small increase, dependent on how many shifts you take." It's the rest of Evali's answer that she pays the most attention to, however; her blonde head tips to one side as dark green eyes survey the prospective trainee. "It can be a pretty physical occupation," she remarks. "It's pretty different to healing people. The medicines, too - but I suppose you wouldn't know much about healing here, either."

"Not really, no. I had a couple of lessons, and I spend time looking at the herbs, but -- I did not really learn anything about how it works," Evali explains, and while she is a bit waifish in build she does have height going for her at mere inches shy of six feet. "So I doubt I would really be confused or thrown off. I hope that helps." Now she seems more nervous; as if perhaps afraid she has more convincing to do. Even with Yanijath reminding her she asked Tiriana personally if she could stand and the Weyrwoman didn't refuse her, which Evali mostly shakes off anyhow. "And -- wingriding is very physical, too, more than I expected."

Jezeian's brows knit together in thought as she considers Evali's answer, but her ultimate reaction is a nod. "Well," she says. "We'll give you a try, at least. Or, rather-- I'll run you past U'sot, and if all goes well, we'll work out a schedule and get you started. There's a lot to learn, and I won't lie and tell you that you'll get plenty of practice, because realistically, we don't get ''that'' many injuries, but we'll see how you go. And that stipend won't start until you've got skills, but you'll get there."

"Oh! Thank you," says Evali, who ''very clearly'' was not expecting that as an answer. She picks up her head a little, shoulders straightening, and manages to be a bit less folded in on herself. (Yanijath is unable to hold in a croon; at least she does it softly, so as not to wake her sleepy wingmate any more.) "I am not concerned about money, truthfully; mostly I am just excited to be able to learn. I appreciate your speaking to me, ma'am." Does she know her name? Possibly; it's likely Yanijath has obtained it. Will she use it? Just as likely not.

"Jezeian," corrects the brownrider, absently, right after Evali refers to her as 'ma'am'. She's already got half an eye on her stocktake again, though not so much that she can't add, "At any rate, you're welcome. We'll see how you cope, I suppose." And, in case that wasn't obvious enough as a dismissal: "We'll be in touch."

"Jezeian. I appreciate it," Evali corrects, with a nod. It's at that point that she looks over her shoulder to Yanijath -- the green seems satisfied enough that she's backing away from the doorway, and Evali takes her steps in that direction as well. "We will get out of your way, then -- I look forward to the response," she adds, and then she's heading back to her dragon, to leave the brownrider to stocking.

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Logs:Experts at Eating

2012-04-25T22:19:44Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Toren, Hypatia | where = Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr | what = Hypatia and Toren have lunch. | when = Day 9, month 8, turn 28 | gamedate = 2012.04.25 | quote =..."

{{ Log
| who = Toren, Hypatia
| where = Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Hypatia and Toren have lunch.
| when = Day 9, month 8, turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.25
| quote = I mean if you go to an expert to get something fixed you should listen to them.
| weather =
| categories = General
| mentions = Madilla
| icons =
| log = Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
----
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.

Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
----

Hypatia's off in a side cranny with a tiny little table all to herself; it has another couple of chairs, but she's currently taking up the entirety of it. She has no food, just a notebook and pen as well as a cup of ice water, and looks a bit out of place -- for those who actually notice her, as she seems to be attempting to stay, while not out of view, rather inconspicuous to the living caverns at large. Her glance moves slowly across the cavern one way, then back to the other, focusing heavily on the buffet -- until someone sneezes or coughs, in which case she immediately looks in that direction. Every now and then, she writes something down.

Toren comes in to get some late lunch or early supper. He heads over towards the serving table to make himself a plate of food and than he heads to find a seat. He finds a within talking distance of Hypatia and he sits down to begin to eat. He gives her a polite and friendly smile before he gets back to his food.

Well, Hypatia ''was'' trying to be inobtrusive and act as a fly on the wall -- but once someone addresses her, it's just too unlike her not to immediately engage. So she re-orients herself just slightly more in Toren's direction and says, "Hi," first. A child of about ten four tables away coughs, and Hypatia writes something down. Her attention flits back to Toren less than a minute later, and she's asking with the usual slight tilt to her head that comes with a question, "How's the food? -- ''What's'' the food, because I didn't look."

Toren smiles back, "Hello I didn't mean to disturb you if you are working on something important please go ahead and ignore me." He looks down, "Roast Herdbeast sandwich with greens." He takes a couple of bites, "It's very good. You should have some if you didn't have any yet."

"Oh, you're not bothering me at all," Hypatia replies, honest and welcoming. "I can multi-task. I never mind it if people talk to me unless I'm actually seeing a patient, in which case I will promptly yell at whoever -- whomever -- oh, I don't care, stupid ''words'' -- does that." No one has done anything relating to whatever her study is since she started talking, apparently, because while her visual focus doesn't so much remain on Toren but continue surveying the room, she hasn't written anything. "I probably should, you're right. I forget to eat."

Toren nods a little bit, "I'll have to remember that if I'm ever in the infirmary, not to speak to you while you are with a patient." He will file that one way and he continues to eat, "I think they have some mashed tubers up there as well."

"I would recommend," says Hypatia with a tiny little smile and a just-so-slightly cynical tone that isn't aiming for unfriendly so much as stating the obvious, "not actually talking to ''anyone'' while they're with a patient. Though if they're not cordoned off it's their own fault." Her look strays back to the buffet, but she's actually looking at the food this time in addition to the people. Hypatia's timing is ideal for her occasionally wicked spirit: someone ends up spilling meat down his front and she lets out a bark of a laugh before she's able to stop herself. Thankfully, it's a noisy room.

Toren nods, "Good advice harpers don't like people talking when they are doing a performance, I suppose it's the same for all professions if you are doing something that requires concentration you don't want someone talking in your ear." He watches her go up and he sees the man spell meat down his front. He winces a little bit.

Hypatia's nodding as she tries to pretend she didn't just laugh -- some people find that kind of thing offputting, she's learned, and it's not always a good idea to look like a total harpy in front of people she's only met once or twice -- and says, "Yeah, the big thing about healing is that it's meant to be confidential, so nobody should be close enough to be interrupting anyway -- I'm going to go actually grab some food, hopefully not get too close to that guy," there's the return of the wicked smile, oops, "and be right back. Babysit my notebook?" Not that she waits for a response before standing up and going to pick up a sandwich for herself.

Toren nods a little bit, "I can understand why you don't want everyone to know you are sick it's bad enough being sick than having everyone know about it." He looks at the notebook, "Sure you go ahead and get some food and careful not to get any on yourself."

On her way up to the buffet, Hypatia actually chortles; evidently she was able to hear Toren's parting comment even as she had already walked off. When she returns, it's with some of that roast herdbeast and greens, and as she plunks back into her seat she says, "I guess people should do incredibly stupid things with food more. That'll remind me to eat. Show them I can eat better than they can." She's grinning; this is obviously not a serious competition to her.

Toren gives a smile, "And sometimes accidents happen. I'm sure you are an expert at eating, just make sure you don't have any holes in your lips." He chuckles as he continues to eat.

"Yes, or chance the fact that food will fall out of my mouth as I attempt to consume it," Hypatia intones, her teasing sarcasm now out in full force. And that's the natural way of her, really; teasing and sarcastic. She picks up her pen, as if to note something -- hesitates -- sets it down. "Toren, right? I think E'gin called you that?"

Toren smiles, "Yep I'm Toren, I know it's hard to recognize me without my guitar, but I don't bring it to the living cavern unless I plan to play it which I don't at least right now. Hypatia right? I believe E'gin mentioned your name as well."

"Yep. Or Hy, or Paysh, or whatever, if the name's a little bit too long on the tongue for you. I don't mind much of any nickname except 'Tia' or 'Pat,' which usually come of people reading it and not hearing it out loud -- there's a T in 'Hypatia,' believe it or not, and no s. Although you're a Harper, it's probably not so unusual to you."

Hypatia's smile is as close to a mirror of Toren's as she can possibly pull off, and she speaks while spinning the pen in her hands. She's gotten her food, but she hasn't begun to actually eat it yet. "Of course there's also whether you say it with three syllables or four, which I guess depends on acce--oh, never mind, my name wasn't the point. I wanted to know," and now she's serious-toned, all business, "have you gotten sick this summer? Stuffed up?"

Toren smiles, "I prefer to call people by whatever name they like so Paysh sounds good to me. You can call me Tor if you want." He shakes his head, "Nope I haven't gotten sick this past winter or summer. I'm very fit, always have been, but I never wanted to miss any of my music classes."

Hypatia lets out another very brief laugh at that, and only after looking at him bright-eyed does she pick up her sandwich and take a bite. "Very industrious of you. I've noticed there are people who can hold off illness on sheer force of will until they have ''time'' to be sick -- I tend to be one of them, actually. Lucky me, I can work with everyone who's ill and only after they're all better do I crash." A sip of water. "And I'll answer to anything but those two I don't like so long's I know it's me, and you wouldn't be the only one calling me Paysh. So there you go. You're right, it's good."

Toren shrugs, "I don't know if it's willing it away or what I just am lucky. I don't ever want to get sick I'd rather stay healthy for as long as I can. Well you are allowed to crash after taking care of everyone. I'm glad you think so. I think they have bubblies for dessert."

"Allowed, sure. Enjoying it -- not so much." Hypatia spins the pen around in her fingers again, then forces herself to put it down and keep eating. "Probably you're just fit and well put together and have a strong immune system and stay safe with your food and don't do things like eat dirt -- you can get really sick if you eat dirt, your entire body locks and can't move at all and then you can't breathe and you die -- which is kind of like being lucky, but better."

Toren makes a face, "Ew who would want to eat dirt that's so disgusting. I do try to stay as fit as I can. I exercise every morning and I don't eat a lot of sweats and even though I don't like them I try to eat my vegetables and greens."

A million-mark question that Hypatia is happy to answer: she actually just smiles ''more'' when Toren asks about the eating dirt, even if it was likely a rhetorical question. She's going to answer it anyway, with no concern as to whether it actually was one: "There's a condition that makes people want to eat dirt. Disturbingly it happens more often in pregnancy than at any other time, even if it is very rare. Also, young children. They just eat dirt sometimes. A thing they do."

Toren hmms, "Well I don't ever remember eating dirt I'll have to ask my mom about if I ever did that." He hmms, "I guess I don't have to worry about eating dirt since I can't get pregnant."

"Ha, well, you might not want to know," is Hypatia's advice, given seriously as she taps pen on paper and then writes something else down. "About strange things you have eaten as a child. Though -- I would hope you can't get pregnant! And I think there are old texts about it happening in people who aren't pregnant, but I've never seen it. Honestly, I've never seen it period. Except when it's little kids eating mud." She's never truly seen what Old Earth called 'tetanus,' either, but she's not giving that secret away.

Toren nods, "True I might not want to know all the disgusting things that I might have done that I don't remember. Best leave things in the past. Little kids can be really gross sometimes."

"Sometimes," is repeated with a bit of a snort: Hypatia's opinion doesn't seem to be too high when it comes to little kids. "I probably shouldn't be having this conversation while eating. But I've never been very good at knowing what other people find appropriate to discuss while consuming food." Which at least she is doing, albeit very, very slowly -- tiny bites every couple of sentences, washed down with more water.

Toren hmms softly, "Well normally they talk about their day, so how has your day been so far, I noticed you had your notebook out, what are you working on? Is it a secret?"

Schooling Hypatia in social graces: maybe a futile effort, but she certainly seems to take to Toren's comments positively enough. "Pretty boring. It's not top secret or anything, no, it just works better when people don't notice me -- observations, basically. Of how people handle their food. And of who's sick and if they do things like cover their hands when they cough or if they're sneezing on people or sharing forks. I study communicability and infection rate and boring numerical healing stuff."

Toren ahs, "That's interesting you don't think about it much but simple things like washing hands and not eating food off the floor or a spoon that fell on the floor. I bet you are going to see a lot of gross things."

"I generally do, yeah." Another laugh from Hypatia, but this one's a little bittersweet. "It's ''incredible'' what you can see when you sit in one spot all day and watch people eat. The disgusting things they don't even ''realize'' they're doing. We don't really understand, as a population, how certain things work -- but sharing food with a sick person is usually a pretty good way to get sick, and so is eating food off the floor. Only I haven't seen any of that today. Yet."

Toren nods, "yes, or the most distrusting thing people do, pick their noses. Ugh I hate with the little kids in class do it. I wish there was some soapsand or something that didn't need water that would sanitize their hands, something they could just rub on."

"Have you tried -- sand?" Hypatia questions and suggests, that tiny head-tilt from earlier making a reappearance. "I mean, it doesn't -- actually clean, so much, but it does get gobs of gross to stick to it and then you can just wipe the sand off on a towel or something. Might pick up more than just a dry towel. I'm sure I would gag if I had to teach a bunch of kids like that. There are probably some very expensive oils that do what you want, derived from very expensive plants, but you know. Expensive. Madilla might know, she's amazing with herbs."

Toren nods, 'I'll have to ask her I know there is redwort, but I'd rather not have red hands all the times. I suppose I'll have to keep washing them. I don't know how my mother does it all the time and year after year class after class. She really loves teaching."

Hypatia moves the water away from her lips, and then the bit of hair that's fallen into her eyes away from it, before answering, "Well. Yeah. I figured you wouldn't want to use redwort -- I've also heard people say you can eventually get immune to it protecting you from numbweed, but I think that's probably total rot. And I don't either. I hate teaching. I mean, I like teaching adults things like here's how to best care for yourself with this fever, but children? No. No thanks."

Toren hmms, "Sometimes adults can be worse than children because adults think that they know it all all ready and they won't listen." He hmms, "That does sound like rot to me, they've been using redwort and numbweed forever."

"The things people spread around," is Hypatia's dismissal of that particular brand of rot with a careless shrug. "And you're right. They often enough ''don't'' listen, and then take eternity to get better when they could've just been bedridden for a couple of days. The most common thing people do is insist they need to work, and then they end up out of work longer. Psh. Whatever. It's their funeral."

Toren nods, "I hope it's not the funeral, but if I was sick I'd listen to the healer taking care of me, even if it was someone that was younger than me. I mean if you go to an expert to get something fixed you should listen to them."

"I wish more people thought like you did," Hypatia replies in a wistful tone, shaking her head. "So many don't. They want the medicine, the magical cure that fixes everything in seconds so they can go back to their lives. Not enough understand it doesn't work that way. ''Nothing'' in life works that way; there's no panacea for existence." The notes she starts to make then move quickly, but are almost completely unreadable -- perhaps a doodle.

Toren nods, "I suppose if more people thought like I did you wouldn't be at busy so that wouldn't be too bad." He shakes his head, "There is no such thing as a magic cure, best advice is to listen to the healers, can't go wrong there."

Hypatia quips, "Spread that around, why don't you?" with a winning smile and goes to reach for her sandwich again just to discover that it is actually gone. Her face falls, microscopically. She plays it off as intending to write more, though she doesn't actually do that so much as continue fiddling with the pen.

Toren smiles, "I'll do my best to spread the word around." He finishes his greens and he gets up, "Up for some dessert?" He asks he picks up his plate and mug, "Or would you like some more klah?"

"Water's fine," Hypatia says with a smile that is rather uncharacteristic; it's quiet, and almost hidden and secret. "But I -- dessert. Sure. I won't refuse, if you're offering." She does have to push hair from her face again, which results in giving up and starting to just rebraid the entire thing. "Maybe I'll even get my head to behave, once you're back."

Toren smiles, "I think it's bubblies." He heads up and gets a water, a klah and two bubbly pies. He brings them back and sets down the water and bubbly in front of Hypatia, "You have really pretty hair. You don't have to behave on my account, just be yourself."

"Trust me," is Hypatia's response, with more of a coy, conspiratory sort of expression, "I don't behave on ''anyone's'' account. There's no need to worry about ''that''. Thanks, though, about the hair -- when it listens to me and brushes out all right, it's okay. I like it, at least. I'd have hacked it off if I didn't. Oh, and for the delivery, as well," is tossed out before she takes a taste and a sip.

Toren smiles, "You're welcome. Good I don't like it when people are fake with me." He starts to eat and he mms softly, "Mmm the bubblies are good nice and hot." He takes a sip of his klah, "So what are you going to do today just sit here and watch people?"

"That is my plan, yes. This evening I'll probably be in the infirmary proper seeing patients, and I've got courses tomorrow -- but today, I intend to sit." Hypatia does at least sound genuinely determined and proud of this plan of hers, as much as she seems to be enjoying hot, gooey pie, even going so far as to lick the end of her fork. "I can't stand phony people."

Toren nods, "I'm sure you'll get lot of observing in. Myself I've got practice until dinner and than more practice after dinner, can't ever practice too much. If you like I can practice here so you have someone to keep you company."

Hypatia seems to consider it for a moment, swirling her water around in the glass as it's something to look at she won't have to write down -- a focus for her eyes while the cogs in her brain turn on decision-making. "That could be nice," she eventually agrees, with a single short nod. "As long as you're not playing something to attract ''too'' much attention. I'm not meant to be noticed too much. People might attack me for taking notes."

Toren smiles, "Well if you want to keep taking note maybe I'll play a bit away from you so that people are focused on me and not you."

"And I'll enjoy the tunes from afar," Hypatia agrees, raising her glass in his direction. And, after a time, that is what they do -- the Living Cavern so serenaded with Toren's dulcet tones and enthusiastic guitar that no one really seems to notice the healer, in the corner, spying.

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Hypatia

2012-04-25T19:31:38Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Hypatia.jpg
|name=Hypatia
|position=Apprentice
|craft=Healer
|dragon=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Hadass
|father=Isfauri
|children=
|siblings=Haley (deceased, +9), Ezekiel (+2), younger brother (-3)
|friends=I'han (NPC)<br>Zerenynio<br>Sr. Journeyman Petros (NPC)
|playedby=Kaya Scodelario
|livejournal=[http://healerbrat.livejournal.com/ healerbrat]}}

== Description ==
Dark brown hair falls in waves past Hypatia's shoulders, framing an angular face marked by slate-blue eyes and an upturned nose. Standing at about five foot six, her slender build and confident stance can make her appear slightly taller; once made entirely of points and sharp edges, she has at last grown into something one might call a womanly figure. She is often found in some form of make-up, dark kohl near-always lining her eyes to add to the illusion of older age.

Her day-to-day clothing is plain and straightforward: a simple white blouse has its sleeves usually rolled up, and is tucked into equally straightforward black trousers.

== WYSK ==
* Born to a High Reaches Hold assistant headwoman and her artist husband, Hypatia is the only girl of four children. Her oldest brother died in the Comet Pass when she was three and she has little to no memory of him, but talks about him and his death in a matter-of-fact way some can find offputting.

* Managed at 14 to get out from under the wing of her overprotective parents to apprentice at Healer Hall; posted to High Reaches Weyr two turns later.

* Hypatia is very opinionated and generally has a sarcastic sense of humor that sometimes tips into the macabre and grisly. Despite this, she's actually a pretty good Healer for all that her interests lie much more in what's wrong with people than the people themselves. People are interesting as people, but as patients, it is the pathology that holds her curiosity.

* Her primary hobby is knitting, and she is often seen during the colder seasons wearing various stocking caps with abnormally long tails.

* Despite her nearly everpresent sarcasm, Hypatia is rather sociable and likes talking to just about anyone.

== History ==
Born and raised at High Reaches Hold, Hypatia is her parents' fourth and last child. She was born only three turns before the start of the Comet Pass, and so her earliest memories are riddled with unexpected Thread and unexpected Threadfalls. Her oldest brother, twelve at the time, died as a result -- but Hypatia barely remembers him now and isn't influenced by it past the overprotectiveness it inspired in her parents. They shadowed her whenever they could, sheltered her past the point of reason. Unable to understand this as a result of grief and not a result of just being obnoxious, Hypatia still resents them.

At age fourteen, Hypatia finally got the chance to leave: she expressed an interest to the hold's posted Healer to become an apprentice. Healing had always interested her, though she'd never had the nerve to speak up about it before, fearing the reaction of her overly-clingy parents. Her living brother, two years her senior, still hadn't been allowed to do anything besides work under his parents.

Thankfully for her, somehow a journeyman at the hold managed to talk her parents, or at least her father, into something a little more reasonable, and Hypatia actually got the beginning steps to a career: she moved to the Healer Hall a month later.

Two turns passed, in which Hypatia became more and more competent, more and more thrilled with her career choice and more and more free from her family. This didn't stop her from /missing/ her family, of course, which was really a shock to her. When the opportunity to move to High Reaches Weyr's new Craft Complex arose shortly after her sixteenth turnday, Hypatia jumped at it with all the enthusiasm of a recently-hatched firelizard on a pile of raw meat.

== Relationships ==
* Her best friend is NPC greenrider I'han, once Ildrehan. They were a year apart in age and inseparable at the Hold until Hypatia left, and I'han was Searched only a few months later.
* While Hypatia initially held the exiles in some contempt, she's come to realize more and more that her initial hostility was due to horror at what her own home could keep secret. Nowadays, exile riders [[Iolene]] and [[Emme]] are considered friends.
* There are two other Healers she looks up to: Journeyman Petros at the main Hall who studies forensics and has been guiding her ever since she inserted herself in the mystery of Seani's death and then Thedrin's disappearance; and local Weyr Journeyman [[Madilla]], who she thinks is a delight to be around.
* Hypatia thinks [[Sa'zl]] is ridiculous, but she's nice to him anyway.
* She's got great respect for [[K'del]] as Weyrleader, and legitimately enjoys spending time around him to boot.
* [[Zerenynio]] and Hypatia came to High Reaches around the same time and helped each other move in. Since then they've had a friendship consisting mostly of teasing each other, despite the difference in age and rank.
* [[Azaylia]] is a new friendship born of old acquaintance, and she's teaching Hypatia to ride better, which is always appreciated.

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Healers]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:Apprenticeship Advice

2012-04-23T00:59:54Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = E'gin, Hypatia, Toren | where = Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr | what = A brownrider and a healer discuss crafting. Amongst other things. Later, a harper jo..."

{{ Log
| who = E'gin, Hypatia, Toren
| where = Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
| what = A brownrider and a healer discuss crafting. Amongst other things. Later, a harper joins in!
| when = Day 28, Month 7, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.22
| quote = Especially if she would have to look like a buffer dude than me.
| weather = Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air.
| categories = General, Exiles
| mentions =
| icons = e'gin.png, hypatia sage.png
| log =

Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
----
Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond.
Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off.
An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl.
----

It's lunch break for Hypatia, and she's out on the patio ledge so often these days she may as well move in. And yet, in this particular instance it appears at least her work hasn't -- the healer apprentice is often enough seen taking up an entire table with papers, but at the moment there is none of that. Just a plate that was once filled with food, a tall glass of water and a single sketchbook, none of which have her focus at present. She's knitting something that looks like a sleeve, and watching the sky as a couple of blues circle overhead.

E'gin strides up to the garden ledge, a glass of some sort of juice in hand, his riding jacket is tucked under his arm. He, too, lacks any work for once. Ready to enjoy the pleasant day, his eyes fall upon the healer apprentince her absent knitting, he follows his gaze follows hers up to the sky, "Nice day, eh?" He offers, his gaze coming back down to watch Hypatia, "What are you knitting?"

Hypatia's focus strays from the circling dragons over to the nearby brownrider as he speaks, and her autopilot-knitting hands stop their moving. "It is," she agrees, as regards the day, or at least the weather, "and it's a sweater. Well, it's a ''sleeve'', but it's part of a sweater. I figure I'll be done with it by winter for sure if I start now, yeah?" The sleeve, now that it has been identified as such for certain, appears about half finished. It's also fuzzy and hunter green.

"Mind?" E'gin says, as he motions with his head to an empty seat nearby, but doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he's sitting in it before he continues, "Well a sweater isn't much with sleeves, so as far as I can tell it is a sweater." He grins slightly as he studies it. "Have you been knitting long? Do they teach you how to do that in the craft?" He asks the healer, "I mean I know you probably learned some as a kid, but enough to make a sweater?" His brows furrow slightly, "Hey, what age did you start as an apprentice?"

At least "Not at all" is Hypatia's answer, as opposed to refusing the brownrider the seat. She's certainly happy to socialize, and even sets the knitting down in exchange for a sip of the water. "Oh, no. I learned from my mother; it's not something that comes up in my craft at all. Just a hobby. What I do when I'm not working, mostly." She tilts her head just ever-so-slightly at the question, as if trying to figure out the reason for asking without inquiring, and then apparently gives up: "Fourteen. Why?"

E'gin gives the woman a grin at her response, thankful at least that she doesn't say no now and make it awkward. "That's how you fill up your free time?" The brownrider looks incredulously at her, "Do they not let you have fun?" His tone is mostly teasing, though his face falls more serious as she gives her answer. "Why? Oh. My little sister, she's almost 13, you see. I don't know, you know, how apprenticeships work, really. I want to make sure she doesn't get left behind. Probably time for her to start thinking, you know?"

"Not like she ''has'' to go into a craft," Hypatia attempts to pass along wisdom while also letting out a soft laugh at his commentary on her having fun -- though she doesn't actually ''say'' anything further about it. "But if she wants to, then -- yes, it would be a reasonable age to attempt to decide where she thinks she fits in. What's she like doing? And, I mean, some crafts take apprentices pretty young, some crafts prefer them older." Her expression's a bit bewildered, as it has been since he commented on not knowing how apprenticeships worked -- but continues to slowly mellow. She may have gotten used to the exiles ''in general,'' but some of the things they don't understand still catch her off guard.

"I mean, I guess not, but she isn't going to make it in a hold as much more than a drudge, and I won't have her working in a bar somewhere." E'gin pauses, "I drink in those, I know what guys are like in there." Somewhere in there is a grin, which falls away as he continues. "I want her to be able to make something of herself, like doing? Well she enjoys her lessons on herbs and stuff, I think, and the ones about the stars." He shrugs, "But then there are tons of crafts they don't really have basic lessons about, I mean are they learning anything about smithing?" He finally notes her bewildered look and waves the whole thing off, "Sorry, I won't trouble you with this anymore. I apologize." A lopsided smile. "So besides knitting and fixing people, what do you do?"

"You're not," Hypatia says first, taking another sip of water and then giving E'gin a rather insistently serious look. "Troubling me. It's fine, I don't mind helping -- and while really the most important thing is what ''she'' wants, you sound like an exemplary older brother." Tiny smile, and then the master of chatter just keeps on keeping on. "Herbs fits in healing, or gardening, and there are Starsmiths, that's a craft. Which is a part of smithing. Maybe she'd make a good smith. Me? I -- actually that's about it. I also talk to people. Socialize. Eat, sleep, breathe, you know."

"It may be a brother thing." E'gin agrees with a nod, "But I don't think it is a bad thing." He pauses and has enough wisdom to add, "All the time anyway. It can go to far." His laugh is deep and genuine, "Yes, exactly, nothing skanky. And tops or not, I don't want to hanging out where she is dependant on a bunch of drunk men, or women, for her livelihood." Pausing he nods, "Oh good, I can't see her arms bulking up much, if it wasn't for Vysravth I'd be a beanpole too. It's just the way we are." Unconciously, one hand clasps around his other arm. "The starsmiths help us figure out intervals and stuff, right?" He nods thoughtfully, "And eating and breathing are important activities. Though I'm not sure that I would classify them as 'fun'."

"But they are what I do," Hypatia replies, and scoops the knitting back up again. Which isn't at all a way to avoid the conversation; she may be knitting with her hands, but her ''eyes'' are still focused E'gin-wards. "Being completely paranoid and not letting her out of your sight for longer than an hour is too far. That's what I had to live with until I left. Maddening. But considering I can't see a beanpole of a young girl who otherwise looks like you anywhere, apparently you're doing a fine job on not being that pushy. Starsmiths spend a lot more time looking through glass things and writing stuff down, s'far as I know. Intervals and stuff, yes. And weather. And Thread."

E'gin nods, and lets it drop, besides there are more interesting topics to now discuss, "You lived with that? Who has time to watch someone like that? How did you talk them into letting you go to apprentince?" He laughs, "No, she stays in the nursery with the rest of the kids, but I visit." This is backed up with a solemn nod, as if that proves it. "Looking through glass and writing things down seems like a perfectly acceptable living, and doesn't sound like it would need a whole lot of muscle." He chuckles deeply before adding, "Of course so healing does too, either way, I guess I'd better start talking to her about, you know, the future."

"I didn't," is the answer to how Hypatia talked her mother into letting her apprentice. "I talked my ''other'' parent into letting me apprentice, and ''he'' talked her into it. She's just a bit touched, you know, by the Comet Pass. Always will be, I'm sure." It doesn't seem to phase the healer girl at all; this is just how things are in her family. "Healing can require more muscle than you might think, though! Having to lift unconscious people off the ground, and all." She waves her hand in the air, just the once, a gesture of 'such a bother' before picking up her water glass again. "Probably a good idea, though, talking to her about it."

E'gin frowns softly but doesn't say anything for a moment. "I see." Is all that is offered with what is supposed to be a comforting nod. "Well, I could see having to lift unconscious people, but they way considerably less than hunks of metal, right?" He finishes off his juice, then settles it on the table infront of them. "How did you end up choosing the healer craft? Sounds like you've always been a little on the independent side." A brief grin is given.

Hypatia actually has to stop and think pretty hard on that one, eyes widening ever-so-slightly as she realizes, "Oh, shells, I'm not really sure I know. I was always interested in it, and was pretty good at it? And I liked one of the healers at the Hold. I knew him pretty well and he vouched for me to my parents, that I'd do well. Despite being good at knitting I just didn't want to be a weaver, I'd have utterly hated it. ... And yes, unless it's a really tiny hunk of metal unconscious people are likely lighter."

E'gin raises an eyebrow studying the girl, "You enjoy knitting, you do it for fun, but you would have hated to do it as a craft?" He pauses thoughtfully, "You are interesting." He fiddles with his riding jacket in his lap, chuckling, "Well there you go, my sister can do anything she likes as long as she doesn't have to look like a man to do it. Especially if she would have to look like a buffer dude than me."

"Yes, because I've got to have something I can do for fun that isn't work --" Hypatia was starting to explain to it, anyway, and then she processes the rest of what E'gin says, and can't continue talking ''or'' drinking, as she's far too busy laughing instead. "You ''are'' fun," she tells him, a moment later, once she's gotten her breath back.

Toren heads up a short flight of stairs from the bowl.
Toren has arrived.

"I see." E'gin grins softly, as he relaxes in a seat on the patio by Hypatia, "Do you get to get out of here much? I mean travel and stuff? Or go down to the Snowasis, or, oh I dunno, swim or -" He seems to run out of ideas. "Oh well, thank you very much. You are fun too." A hand is run through scruffy hair as he leans forward in his seat to play with his empty glass. "How long have you lived here?"

Toren is on his way up to the Snowasis and he has his guitar case on his back, even though it's a sunny beautiful day out he doesn't want to take any chances with his guitar. He spots others on the Patio and he gives a friendly wave, "Hello there."

"About as long as you have, honestly," Hypatia replies with a smaller smile, pushing a bit of fallen hair-fringe out of her eyes. "I'd been here maybe a couple months before you all turned up. I don't travel much except to visit my parents, no. And the Hall, but that doesn't really count. Same with going to Southern, it's work --" She's cut off by the approach of Toren, and shuts up and gives the Harper a smile instead. "Hi!"

"Oh, well a few turns then." E'gin comments as he adds in his head, "Oh you need to travel just for fun, you never know who'll meet." The brownrider seems ready to continue but his attention is stolen by Toren, "Hey." His called and he waves the other male over to an empty seat, "Join us?" The boy is studied with some interest, "Going to practice in the Snowasis? It is awfully loud in there for that isn't it?"

Toren gives a polite nod to each of them, "Good evening. Sure I'll join you." He moves to sit down and he takes the guitar off his back. "Well I was going to see if they would like me to play tonight I've played here a couple times before, but I can play out here if it's too loud." He sets the guitar case down and opens it up to take out the guitar. He gets into the right playing position and he starts to tune it.

Hypatia nods in response to E'gin's time assessment, though it's expanding to be a nod to Toren in general. She doesn't speak at first, waiting for the majority of the tuning to be over or at least for the harper to be set on what he's tuning to, trying not to be distracting. Not something she's good at, staying silent. "Not as loud out here, no. Can't remember what I was talking about, either -- right, traveling. It's been a while, I'm basically always busy. Better than always being bored, at least."

E'gin isn't nearly so polite as Hypatia as Toren tunes, "Not so loud out here, minus us, but that shouldn't be so bad if you are use to playing bars." He lips pull up in a grin, "Oh well, if you have enough time to knit and a friend with a dragon you can travel lots of places pretty fast." The male continues his conversation with the healer, before turning to include Toren, "What about you, when you are playing what do you do?"

Toren finishes his tuning and smiles at E'gin and Hypatia, "Is there any tune that either of you would like to hear?" He asks. He hmms as he's asked a question, "Well I'm focused on the song I don't often think about anything else while I'm playing. I try to devote my whole being into playing the song so that I can give the audience my very best."

"I never," Hypatia confesses, looking just ever-so-slightly guilty about the whole thing, "actually remember the names of songs. But you might be able to help him with finding a craft for his sister. How old were ''you'' when you apprenticed?" She may not be able to talk about music, but she can make any conversation relevant to what she actually wants to know.

"What is that funny one," E'gin waves a hand trying to remember, "You know the one about the clumsy dragon rider." Leaning over toward Hypatia, "Which, by the way, is an awful combination." Toren is grinned at again, "You know what I'm talking about? Maybe that guy made it up on the spot." He settles back into his seat waiting for his answers to the healer's questions.

Toren hmms, "I was 12 when I apprenticed and as far as I know anyone can be an apprentice, but if someone doesn't want to be they don't have to be no matter how talented they might be." He says awfully quickly and he clears his throat, "Sure I can play that one, it's called Bumbling Bluerider." He starts to play and sing, but he keeps the volume low so E'gin and Hypatia can still talk easily.

Hypatia can always talk easily, never doubt. It is her signature strength, if not one of a collection. "Nice title," she muses, "for a nice-sounding song about something that sounds like a rather unfortunate situation." The knitting is reclaimed, now that her drink's more than half gone. "If he did make it up on the spot, it's famous now, anyway."

The brownrider raises an eyebrow at the guitar wielding male, "I wasn't suggesting that I was going to force her to do anything she didn't want to." E'gin's face pulls up into a smirk. "Just trying to figure the whole system out, considering I never went through it." Eyebrow is lowered again before he laughs, "It is a well named tune, and certainly one that deserves to be famous. For the sake of mixed company, Toren, you could skip over the dirty parts if you wanted." He winks, at there shared knowledge.

Toren gives a nod, "Can do. Skipping the dirty verses." He continues to play just the guitar as he's supposedly skipping over the dirty parts. "Ah just making sure. It can be hard sometimes if someone is talented at something but they don't wanna do it." He shrugs, "You become an apprentice and learn all you can to become a journeyman where you learn all you can and teach what you do know until you are a master than you just learn what you want and teach what you want."

"No need!" Hypatia chirps at Toren, who may be professing to be skipping the dirty parts, but why would she want him to? "I'd hate to miss out on the full musical experience. He said she likes stars, I thought maybe starsmithing would be a good fit for -- Aella, was it?" She doesn't always have the best memory for names, but Hypatia does try. "And gosh, not everyone gets to master level. I can't imagine doing so, really, even if work is my entire life."

"Well, fine then, ladies choice on dirty parts." E'gin chuckles, "Good explanation, Toren. I think it would be good for Aella, too. I'll talk to her about it." His arms cross over his chest as he thinks, "Well maybe not everyone would want to be a master, I would think there would be a lot more work, right? And less practicing the actual craft, more making sure everyone else is." His head lolls to one side to look at Hypatia, "Would you want to be a master? If you work hard, you'll be fine. You seem to have the drive."

Toren nods, "Not everyone has to be a master, you stop where you feel comfortable or you are stopped when your talent runs out. Not everyone gets to be a master." He hmms, "Good song title." He files it away and he blushes softly, "All right I'll sing the dirty parts." He starts to sing again as his ears heat up.

Hypatia actually has to think about it, which results in a legitimate silent sixty seconds from the normally constant chatterer. "I -- don't know," she says, and keeps knitting, channeling her uncertainty into the sleeve. At least to knitting energy is energy, and the sleeve does not in itself become uncertain. "I might do. I thought I did, at first! But I don't know how much of what masters do is really healing, and not administrating and being political, like you said. That's kind of how it is."

E'gin watches Hypatia silently as he hears out her thought process, "Well if you like healing so much maybe you'll end up staying at journeyman, I guess the good thing about crafts is that you can always change your mind later. I mean if you decide when you are older than you want to teach or do the political stuff you can always try and move up then, right?" The brownrider's feet tap unconsciously to the song, chuckling occassionally to a part here or there.

Toren can feel his face burning red as he sings some parts of the song and he's never been so glad to get to the final verse. "And that's how he ended up in the bed of the lord holder's daughter!" He strums out the last chord and lets it fade.

"Exactly. And I'm pretty sure you can also step down," Hypatia adds with a smile -- as her expressions have been likely indicating, the dirty bits of the song are actually bothering Toren quite a bit more than the lady present. Phasing Hypatia is quite hard, or at least that's what she wants everyone to think. But once he completes the song, she actually sets the knitting down to rise out of her seat and give a standing ovation.

It seems more amusing to E'gin that Toren is more bothered by the song than Hypatia and he laughs softly, "Do you play some of the rougher bars, Toren? You know, the ones with the topless ladies and the sailors?" Why not tease the boy some, a hidden grin to Hypatia, and he joins her in her ovation.

Toren smiles as he nods his head to the standing ovation, he's more used to those than the song choice. "Thank you very much. You two are both too kind." He knows how to react to praise but E'gin's question takes him totally off guard, "What they have bars like that?" He shakes his head, "No never, this is my first time out of harper hall and my parents had a long talk about me playing at the Snowasis before I was allowed to play I don't think my mother would let me play at a place like that."

Hypatia, for one, looks terribly disappointed. "Your parents sound as bad as mine! Those sorts of places are terribly good fun." E'gin gets a smile in return; Hypatia may or may not have ever actually been to such a place, as she never specified, but she's perfectly willing to pretend an expertise. "How old are you? Parents can't possibly be in control once you've got that apprentice's knot. If a master told you you can't that's an entirely different can of worms. Journeyman, even."

"She's right, your parents don't tell you what to do anymore - the craft does. And if they haven't told you not to..." E'gin lets his statement trail off so that he can look wickedly at Toren, "Hypatia and I would be happy to take you to one. Tillek has a fine one, you know with all the ships coming in and out of the port, they need some entertainment." He grabs his riding jacket and stands, "You should learn how to play infront of any crowd, you know, it could be good practice, and the both of you look like you could get out of here for while." His grin softens to a smile.

Toren sighs softly, "I'm 15 and my parents are my journeyman at least while I'm here. They made an arrangement to keep the family all together. My mom comes from a big holder family, but she's the only one that can sing so family is really important to her, even though I'm the only child they've had." He looks at the rider as the jacket is grabbed and he remembers what his father told him before coming here that life is an adventure. He screws up his courage, "All right."

"Oh." Hypatia droops a little after she sits down; that's something she apparently can't imagine quite well enough to sympathize. "That ''sucks.'' Having your parents also be your craft superiors? I would die, even if my mother weren't -- the way my mother is. I'm not sure I'd even pick the same craft as my parents. But since my parents aren't formally crafters -- my father's a painter -- I don't really know what I would do, do I? Fifteen's an adult, though. So if you didn't have that little technical complication." She punctuates her sentence by picking up her water, taking a sip, and plunking it back on the table with gusto.

"I would think they wouldn't do that. Making parents be a kids journeyman, tough break, Toren." E'gin pulls his riding jacket on, "Well it is settled then, the next day we you two have off we'll go down to Tillek and have some fun, and see if we can't get Toren and his guitar on stage." Eyebrows waggle at the harper, "But I have to get ready for sweeps, you guys don't get into too much trouble until I'm there. Okay?" With that the rider slides back out of the gardens leaving the two apprentinces to idle the day away playing inappropriate songs and talking.

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Logs talk:Ysavaeth's Influence

2012-04-22T18:22:12Z

Evali: Comment provided by Evali - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Ysavaeth's Influence]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Evali/Comments|Evali]] ([[User:Evali|Evali]]) left a comment on Sun, 22 Apr 2012 18:22:09 GMT.

<comment date="2012-04-22T18:22:09Z" name="Evali" signature="[[User:Evali|Evali]]">
This. was. amazing.
</comment>
[[Evali/Comments|Evali]] ([[User:Evali|Evali]]) left a comment on Sun, 22 Apr 2012 18:22:12 GMT.

<comment date="2012-04-22T18:22:12Z" name="Evali" signature="[[User:Evali|Evali]]">
This. was. amazing.
</comment>

Logs talk:Ysavaeth's Influence

2012-04-22T18:22:09Z

Evali: Comment provided by Evali - via ArticleComments extension

Logs:Anybody's Missing Kid

2012-04-14T03:21:41Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Sa'zl, Emme, Hypatia | where = Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr | what = Either a very late lunch or a very early dinner turns to discussions of Thedrin. Sort of...."

{{ Log
| who = Sa'zl, Emme, Hypatia
| where = Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Either a very late lunch or a very early dinner turns to discussions of Thedrin. Sort of.
| when = Day 1, Month 7, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.12
| quote = "NO. I mean... no, thank you. That's perfectly alright. Though, Rhazekth would like for you to show him later." Emme relays, deciding to rather rapidly stuff her face with the rest of her meal before someone makes her regurgitate it by accident.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons = sa'zl.jpg, emmeline.png, hypatia mischief.png
| log = It's either time for a really late lunch or a really early dinner, and so a few people at least are hitting the Living Caverns for an evening meal of some sort. They will, however, find that the area is short one entire table, as healer Hypatia's managed to take up the entire thing. Sketchbooks, reference texts, some food and four glasses of water are taking up the majority of the table, and her ball of yarn is encroaching on a pushed-in chair. She's also muttering unclearly to herself as she scribbles notes on -- something. Paper.

One thing Emme has never been shy about... making room for herself at a 'full' table, so that she can eat her dinner near a familiar face. Thus, she hooks her foot around a neary chair and drags it over to the papered table, while juggling her tray. Then, she settles in and places her tray in her lap (where she is sitting lotus style). "Hey, 'Patia. You should take a break and eat." Dimple.

Sa'zl didn't exactly ''plan'' to make a pincer attack on Hypatia, but here he is, showing up at more-or-less the same time, with a more-or-less identical tray of food (overflowing slightly). He doesn't add a chair to the table, but rather manages to juggle tray, table-stuff, and the ball of yarn, so that he ends up not making a giant mess ''anywhere'', somehow, but instead just... has a tray of food, on the table, stacks of her ''stuff'', and the ball of yarn in his lap. She's not using it anyway, right? "Brought enough for you," he adds cheerfully. "Hi, Emme."

Hypatia started to look up right as Emme spoke to her, and then continued to look up -- much more up -- at Sa'zl as he helped himself to reconfiguring her table without so much as asking if she was okay with it. Now, she's straight-out staring at the bluerider as he works some kind of sleight-of-hand magic shifting things around to calmly fit himself in the midst of her things. "... You should've asked before moving all that, I had a system," she lies neatly. "And I have been eating. Periodically. But I've certainly managed to prove my own point to myself three times over in learning about this stuff. Anthropometry."

"Oh hey, Sa'zl. How's things?" Emme wonders, just before spooning a mouthful of stew in. Her lips twitch when he moves things around, and a smirk threatens when Hypatia calls him on it. But she refuses to comment on that. Instead, her head tilts at the new word. "Anthropometry? What's that?" A briefly distant expression suggests she is not the only one who wants the answer to that, by the way.

"Tiring," is apparently Sa'zl's answer to Emme's question; but then, everyone ''knows'' that Yggdratth enjoys chasing his ladies. "You'll be able to reconstruct your system once you eat this," he adds to Hypatia quite earnestly, holding out a monstrosity that, upon closer examination, actually looks to be a really delicious sandwich. (It's just that it's the size of Hypatia's ''head''.) "I'm sorry I didn't ask. I didn't want to drop anything!"

And Sa'zl was expecting Hypatia to ''stop'' staring? That isn't quite working out very well for him, but she sighs and takes the sandwich from him anyway. "How do you expect me to be able to bite into this? And since when is it so important to everyone else that I eat?" Because she does, in fact, have two people and two prying dragons basically all piling on her and going so far as to actually give her (giant) food to make her eat, and that's a lot more than zero. "Anyway. Anthropometry's the system of bone measuring to identify people I told you about; it's obviously very fallible, because people can have the same measurements, and if you don't have baselines it doesn't work very well. Which is why I'm still not convinced. About Thedrin. That body could've been anybody's missing kid." Because the High Reaches area is just rife with missing children of that size.

Emme can't quite helped the snorted giggle that escapes with Sa'zl's answer. "Rhaz has nothing on Yggdratth when it comes to chasing the ladies. But, ..." oh right, serious conversation. Ahem. "You're my friend, and I don't like to see friends work themselves to the bone. Not when you have the option of food, anytime you need it." she replies quickly to Hypatia. Though, her spoon pauses halfway to her mouth again. Yay for conversation about dead people! There's even a flash of guilt there on her face for the fact that there are /missing children/ out there somewhere. They need to be /found/. And Thedrin! And... and... she clears her throat. "Unless you are allowed to see the body, it may not help in this case you know."

"How long was he missing, again, before the dead kid was found?" Maybe it's the fact that Sa'zl grew up in the Weyr; maybe he's just kind of callous when it comes to babies. Who knows. But that's how he asks, right before tucking into a ''second'' monster-sized sandwich, answering Hypatia's semi-rhetorical complaint/question with a demonstration as he smooshes it flat -- well, flat''ter'' -- and then very nearly dislocated his jaw in order to take an appropriately monster-sized bite.

"Oh, I know," Hypatia tells Emme once she's taken a bite or two of the monstrous sandwich. "I don't expect to. The conclusion has been made, and just because ''I'' don't believe something doesn't mean anything to anyone. I just can't be convinced, you know? And it was -- uh -- six or seven months. So it's not that I'm insisting it isn't Thedrin. It's just that I can't say I'm entirely on board with that idea either. But I don't know anything; I'm just an apprentice." A workaholic apprentice who knows more about grisly death than can possibly be healthy, but still just an apprentice. "I had to study it anyway, it's just quite timely. And very interesting. And ... can't prove that body belonged to Thedrin or anyone. It's a Harper problem, anyway, if any other kids were reported missing. Just, they were smugglers, yeah? So who knows they didn't kidnap a bunch of kids from random traders, or something, that went unreported to anyone?"

"How is that humanly possible. That's what I want to know. See how his jaw all but unhinges like a tunnelsnake? See that?" Emme shakes her head in disbelief at the sandwich eating abilities of the bluerider. "Well, maybe I'll ask if there's been any side investigation into the smuggling part of things. And other missing children. When I'm at the Hall for my next lesson." she murmurs. "Maybe I should drag you along with me next time I need to go on one of our wing search and rescue sweeps." Hypatia, that is.

Hypatia looks impressed, and it's unclear entirely by what -- if it's Sa'zl's jaw or his assessment. But Emme's comment gets a quick wicked grin and a, "So I could be the first person to get at the body next time," said rather calmly. "That way I wouldn't have to pepper you with questions." As clearly there's going to be another body? Maybe Emme hopes not, but Hypatia is another story. "Not that I would actually do something like that, go on wing sweeps. I'd be completely in the way. And -- right, sort of, about Thedrin, there was no baseline. And he could've grown in the time that he was missing. And that body was just a mess, waterlogged. ''Squishy,'' she said!" For whatever reason, she sets aside any comment about Sa'zl's trick jaw.

"NO. I mean... no, thank you. That's perfectly alright. Though, Rhazekth would like for you to show him later." Emme relays, deciding to rather rapidly stuff her face with the rest of her meal before someone makes her regurgitate it by accident. But then she shakes her head to Hypatia, and wags the spoon at her chidingly. "I would not say you'd be in the way, nor do I mind answering questions. I just thought it would be handy to have you there, just in case. Like, a healer on the scene ya know?" She carefully avoids talk of squishy bodies.

Sa'zl just ''grins'' at Emme, of course, in the sort of way that involves thoughtfully moving his jaw about in its sockets, but not ''quite'' going so far as to actually dislocate it. (''This'' time.) He pokes at his food for a moment, then picks up his cup and swirls its contents about, considering his words, then: "You wouldn't be in the way," he states, as if this is absolute fact and not simply his opinion. "One more set of eyes is all to the good, right? But if you're worried about it, you could always try to find a dragon of your own to ride."

"You know that's actually bad for it," Hypatia challenges Sa'zl, narrowing her eyes and not quite uptalking the question enough to make it entirely sound like a question; half-question, half-statement, and entirely ignoring the rest of what he said, at least at first. "Well, if you think you're actually about to find a body, you're welcome to come swoop me up. A ''living'' one would be rather more productive than a dead one as far as having a healer on site goes, and would give me a lot more to do -- and you'd have to pay me to Stand, thanks, no."

Emme mock growls at Sa'zl. "Brat." she mutters, making a face at him much like she would a sibling. "Rhaz is more then happy to serve as transport for you, so long as you answer all his questions. I warn you though, he has a lot of them. A lot. A -lot-. And he will judge your answers." she forewarns. a faint smile appearing at Hypatia's reticence to Stand. "It's not so bad. Harder for some then others to adjust, I suppose, but I think that has a lot to do with how strong your bond with the dragon is. Would you agree, Sa'zl?" Anything to make him stop with the jaw thing.

"What sort of payments do you like?" But Sa'zl is, of course, only teasing, says his grin, and then he's knocking back a good half of whatever is in that cup before he answers Emme. "And I wonder if your problem is with the Hatching or with the Impressing, Paysh? I'm sure you're quick enough on your feet to keep from being maimed, and I doubt you'd have a problem with all the butcher-work, so is it just that you end up not being able to become a Masterhealer?" All right, maybe that isn't ''really'' an answer directed at Emme.

"Right. I have lofty goals," Hypatia says in a high-and-mighty but kind of floaty voice that really isn't clear as to whether she actually means it or is being mockingly sarcastic. "They include lofts, I suppose. I'd like to live in a loft, that might be fun. Loft above an infirmary all my own -- that is, until I become ''the'' Masterhealer of Pern and won't need to do any of that. Which, actually, I would hate, so never mind that bit of the lofty goal. I think raw meat is disgusting, actually; I don't mind being judged. By Rhazekth, anyway. By people, yes. Humans." Is a dragon a person?

"He's pretty fair. As far as judgements go." Emme adds, conversationally. "No Sa'zl. I'm pretty sure she's worried about a baby dragon unhinging it's jaw the way YOU do and devouring her whole. Forget about mauling." she jokes, a bemused little smirk appearing. "A loft, and an infirmary. Those sound like worthy goals. I recall when keeping the food down that was served here... was /my/ goal. Anything after that was a step up."

"Nothing says you can't have a loft over a ''dragon'' infirmary," Sa'zl tells his sandwich very quietly, but that's about the sum total of how far he's going to push it, and they're in the noisy crowd of the Living Cavern, anyway. The words are probably completely lost. Much louder, he adds: "I'm very glad I have Yggdratth, and patrols really ''are'' more interesting than wrestling herdbeasts into submission, but being a healer is very important!"

"Thanks for the respect," Hypatia says, not actually commenting on how if she ever ends up on the sands -- because someone offered the proper bribe, or something -- she'll never live it down with these two. "Though wrestling herdbeasts is important too, even if I can't imagine you were really ''wrestling''. Emme -- yeah. I remember. How sick you all were. Defined my career, kind of, seeing something like that. I can't imagine what you'd been through and I know my parents are pretty decisively anti-exiles and were deciding to entirely deny your ''existence'' for a while so -- I can't remember exactly where that thought was going." More sandwich.

Sa'zl just raises an eyebrow at Hypatia, turning his expression into a sly, wicked sort of grin. "Why ''don't'' you think I was really wrestling them? Didn't you know I was one of High Reaches Weyr's champion wrestlers?"

Hypatia replies, deadpan, "I didn't know High Reaches Weyr had wrestling competitions." And takes a long sip of her water, before picking up the pencil again. You just stop her, Emme and Sa'zl. You just try.

"Well, Gathers, anyway," Sa'zl answers vaguely, and ''he'' at least knows how to appreciate his food, even if Hypatia seems to think the pencil is a better choice. Sooner or later, though, Emme and Sa'zl manage to finish feeding the healer apprentice, and even themselves.

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Logs:You Should Talk To Someone

2012-04-11T01:17:02Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = E'gin, Evali
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Exile riders talk by the lake. Dragons torture fish.
| when = Day 20, Month 6, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.10
| quote = Yanijath, of course, makes sure Vysravth knows just how painfully, shamefully shy her lifemate is.
| weather =
| categories = Exiles
| mentions = Lujayn, Emme, Riorde
| icons = e'gin.png, evali somber.jpg
| log = There is a light breeze tempering a warm afternoon at High Reaches. Most people are hard at work or busy eating a late lunch, leaving the lake relatively deserted. But it is too fine a day for the lake to be completely abandoned. Vysravth is some distance out in the water, immersed in the tormenting of fish. A couple, which he played to roughly with, flop helplessly at the surface of the water as the lift drains out of them, but no longer moving fast enough to be of much fun the bulky brown has moved on to other victims. His rider, doesn't seem to be paying much. E'gin is lying on his back, settled on a blanket in the sand, head resting on his arms crossed behind his head, he seems to be rather engrossed in watching the few clouds which dot the sky, if one got close enough though they would be able to see the all too familiar distant look in a rider's eye.

And suddenly, with an impressive *splash*, Vysravth is not alone: bright green Yanijath has joined him in her usual explosive nature. Her only greeting is a vocalized trill, keeping her mental wispy tendrils temporarily to herself. After all, he might be ''mad'' about her entrance! And she wouldn't want to open herself up to getting yelled at! Evali is training down to the shore from the bowl, and shakes her head as she sees the green's showy, messy landing. "Sorry," she says, stopping about a foot behind E'gin's resting spot.

Mad? Mad?! There is no time to be mad, Vysravth barely notices the green as his prey /finally/ moves a pace he deems worthy of an honorable (and quick) death, even if it wasn't of it's own accord. The head of the lucky fish is ripped from its wiggling body before it has time to protest, not that a fishy protest would stop the predatory brown. Still, he isn't very hungry and now that his game is over, and his conversation interupted he gives the green a rumbled greeting. His own mental picture not as private, a vast darkness envelops the mental space between him and green, as slowly torch lights flicker to life in deepest parts of an abandoned weyr. Silence. This seems to be greeting enough for the male. E'gin grins at Evali and shakes his head. Stretching as he sits up to wave a hello, "Oh no, it is fine." A beat, "How's it going, Evali?" He moves over to leave room on his sand free blanket.

Yanijath appears to have actually helped. How about that! She looks delighted, and inches toward the floating fish corpse with a delicate sniff. << Are you not going to eat that, Vysravth? >> she inquires, twirling her silk strands around his torch. << Because I would like it if you're not! Shame to let it go to waste! >> Evali is either tuning it out or unbothered, and after a moment's stilted hesitation takes the implied-invited seat. "It -- is going," she hazards. "Yourself?"

A soft fog plays eerily in the flickering light off the silk strands. Still, when Vysravth does speak it is a pleased tone, his voice low and rough, << If you would like it, Yanijath, please enjoy it. >> E'gin meanwhile is measuring Evali's paused answer, he doesn't comment on it at the moment, only lets a grin play gentle across his features, "Oh, it is actually really good." He pauses, "Wouldn't mind something besides sweeps and drills to keep me busy, but all in all no complaints." Even after his answer his gaze is still searching in her's for a clue to the hesitant response, "What have you been up to? Found your niche yet?"

That fish is gone in seconds -- Yanijath has gulped it up unceremoniously. "So you and Lujayn," Evali starts, likely planning to ask something about their relationship -- but completely failing to, as instead she's catching up to the rest of what he's said and letting out a soft little laugh. "I would not mind such either. I intend to become a dragonhealer, but I keep -- not quite getting around to it." Yanijath, of course, makes sure Vysravth knows just how painfully, shamefully shy her lifemate is.

E'gin lifts an eyebrow at the mention of Lujayn but his grin returns with an overly large shrug, meant to play off the idea but instead showing a bit of pride at the situation, "Yah. We're, you know, just seeing how stuff goes - minus the daughter and all." He can't surpress a beaming smile, at least for a second before it is recaged into his normal grin, "Evali, you'd be great at that. You did seem really good in the dragon anatomy classes, and you're, you know -calming. You should talk to someone." The male offers encouragingly.

"I would love to see her," Evali confesses, this being the first exile child whose birth she's had no hand in. It's also a way to deflect attention off her for a few minutes, but the conversation does cycle back that way rather quickly and she looks down at the ground. "I know," she says. "It is just so -- I am not good at speaking up for myself, really. I'm not like Io, or Emme, or you. Or Ri, even." Yanijath /actually/ snorts.

"Nalani is gorgeous." For a moment E'gin is completely transformed as he speaks about his daughter, but then he's back as he studies Evali's downward look, "Hey..." He smiles comfortingly, "I get it. Besides, the last thing this place is needs is more of me." His easy self-deprication obviously meant to put her at ease, "But you deserve to do what you want, and you'd be good at it. I can talk to Lujayn for you. I mean. She might be able to help." Vysravth snakes his head to get a better look at Yanijath, slowly a machine is awakened in the bowels of the weyr where he resides, far beneath the range of the torch. It groans to life, << Did you enjoy it? I could kill another one for you. >>

<< It was delicious, >> Yanijath chirps, not pointing out she can kill fish just as well herself -- because why do that, if someone's doing it for you? Evali, on the other hand, is softening into a genuine smile, especially at how happy E'gin looks when talking about his child. "I would like that, actually, if you didn't mind. I always thought she was rather sweet, and -- she seems helpful, usually." Because Evali already asked Tiriana for something once in her life, and that's where she's stopping.

Vysravth doesn't bother to rip the head off the next one. He leaves it mostly dead as an offering in front of Yanijath. The metallic sound of turning clogs is his answer. E'gin seems to relax, and nod, "I don't mind at all, Evali." The male offers as his lips curl up in a smile, "She is, she's different." The comparison to the weyr's other goldriders, "I'll see if she can help, or at least point you in the right direction." He pauses, "What else have you been up to?"

"Not much of anything, honestly. Listening to Emme's work; fixing up my garden," is Evali's soft explanation of her life. "That and sweeps and drills," she adds with a slightly brighter smile. "And they all seem to be. Different. Here. From one another, the goldriders." She can't think of any real overarching qualities between all three except that Lujayn and Iolene are sweet. Yanijath trills happily, and snakes out her tongue to lap up and swallow whole one fabulously tasty fish.

"Emme's work? Did she get into the harpers?" E'gin seems pleased at this news, "Sweeps and drills." Is the echo, as monotonous as the task. He responds to the gold question with only a nod; he's busy watching the brown, who has gutted another fish for the green, he chuckles softly, "He's flirting with her." Because apparently the presentation of mutilated fish is flirting to the brown, "I prefer when he keeps it out of the weyr." He glances over at Evali, "Avalanche picked up the sweeps over Boll. Have you gotten out to travel much? It is really pretty there, if you hadn't had a chance you should go."

Evali shakes her head; not to Emme getting into the Harpers, though, because at the same time that she's shaking her head no she is saying, "Yes, she did." And then, as if realizing the absurdity of her own motion, adds, "Er. And I rarely if ever travel; I haven't been out there. She flirts with everyone." Which may be meant to be a disclaimer; Yanijath certainly seems to be enjoying the attention, offering up delighted little sounds and playful mental images.

"Good?" E'gin follows the roundabout path to the answer, "Good." Then as the greenrider mentions that the green flirts with everyone he eases again offering only another, "Good." Then he chuckles, "I'll tell him to not let it go to his head." His legs cross infront of him and he leans his head on a propped up hand. "You should travel, while you have time. You might not have much once your dragon healing." He grins.

"I -- maybe," is all Evali says on the matter. She's not very worldly, and the fact she rarely ever leaves the Weyr doesn't seem to surprise anyone. "Yanijath would like it." Definitely; Yanijath looks thrilled at the idea, and is passing along all sorts of silent mental encouragement. "I am sure he has enough to go to his head, having children at his age!"

"It's not so bad, and you always get to come back. Okay, not Boll, where have you been?" E'gin grins, the kind of grin that says someone has an idea. "Hey, that is why we started going out, because of what Vysravth liked." The details of what was liked not hard to imagine, "But now we go cause sometimes we just, you know, need to stretch our wings." E'gin laughs, clearly he has told Vysravth what was said because the brown puffs a little, his wings lifting just slightly. Yah. He reproduced. "Still, he's always thinking about what is next."

"Um," says Evali, looking a bit embarrassed. "Here. And the island. And High Reaches Hold." Okay, so her sweeps are boring and not very far-reaching, and other than sweeps she doesn't really go anywhere at all. Yanijath is mentally laughing at her, bells ringing inside Evali and Vysravth's minds. << They're the bees' knees, your kids are. Gonna be bigger'n me if they're not already! And she's just silly, Evvy, she'll get over it and we'll see all of Pern. >>

"Oh see. You've been some places. I bet not very many dragonriders here have been to the island." E'gin smiles softly, "You're already more traveled than them. Most of them won't even be able to envision it." He pauses, "Well if you, or Yanijath, ever want to go anywhere you let us know. You can come with us." Vysravth is quiet for a moment, beneath the torch light even the machine's noises seem lower, until finally he seems willing to allow the bells and ringing to take over and lightening bugs dot the dark sky, << They are big. Very big. If you two would ever like to be escorted somewhere... >> The dragon echoes his rider, << E'gin just wants to make sure she is happy. >>

Evali laughs a little, under her breath. "I do not know that it counts as well-traveled to have been to one place," she manages, but she is halfway watching the dragons with a smile on her face. "And maybe. Maybe we can all go somewhere together." Of course, she's managed to forget that E'gin and Iolene don't get on, which is done by matter of force -- she hates to think about people arguing. "In the mythic time when everyone actually /can/." Yanijath dips under the water momentarily, and resurfaces to say, << She is. She is just simple. She needs to expand her horizons. >>

E'gin laughs softly and shrugs, "We can. Meet some new people, make some new friends, learn some new things." At the moment though he getting to his feet and dusting the sand off his pants. "Oh, there will be a time Evali, next time." Because they don't get to talk often, obviously next time will be this mythical time. Vysravth is still eyeing the little green, << We will help. >> He offers, << But now we must go. Almost time for sweeps. >> The torches are suddenly extinguished, the silence returns and the darkness vanishes.

<< Have fun! >> Yanijath trills, bells and whistles and shiny silks. Because sweeps, of course, are massive amounts of fun. Or at least she makes them so! Evali lets out another soft chortle, and stands up -- because it is E'gin's blanket she's sitting on, after all. "I will ask Emme and Riorde, for certain, what they think about traveling." If not anyone else, though she'd like to convince Iolene -- and then there's Taikrin. "Have a -- nice sweep?"

"Whoever you want to bring along, Evali, but we need to bust you out of this place." E'gin grins as he reaches down to collect his blanket, "It was good to see you, Evali." He smiles and begins to walk off before turning for just a second to add, "And you really need to me Nalani." And then he is off.

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Logs:You Should Talk To Someone

2012-04-11T01:13:21Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = E'gin, Evali | where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr | what = Exile riders talk by the lake. Dragons torture fish. | when = Day 20, Month 6, Turn 28 | gamedate = ..."

{{ Log
| who = E'gin, Evali
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Exile riders talk by the lake. Dragons torture fish.
| when = Day 20, Month 6, Turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.04.10
| quote = Yanijath, of course, makes sure Vysravth knows just how painfully, shamefully shy her lifemate is.
| weather =
| categories = Exiles
| mentions = Lujayn
| icons = e'gin.png, evali somber.jpg
| log = There is a light breeze tempering a warm afternoon at High Reaches. Most people are hard at work or busy eating a late lunch, leaving the lake relatively deserted. But it is too fine a day for the lake to be completely abandoned. Vysravth is some distance out in the water, immersed in the tormenting of fish. A couple, which he played to roughly with, flop helplessly at the surface of the water as the lift drains out of them, but no longer moving fast enough to be of much fun the bulky brown has moved on to other victims. His rider, doesn't seem to be paying much. E'gin is lying on his back, settled on a blanket in the sand, head resting on his arms crossed behind his head, he seems to be rather engrossed in watching the few clouds which dot the sky, if one got close enough though they would be able to see the all too familiar distant look in a rider's eye.

And suddenly, with an impressive *splash*, Vysravth is not alone: bright green Yanijath has joined him in her usual explosive nature. Her only greeting is a vocalized trill, keeping her mental wispy tendrils temporarily to herself. After all, he might be ''mad'' about her entrance! And she wouldn't want to open herself up to getting yelled at! Evali is training down to the shore from the bowl, and shakes her head as she sees the green's showy, messy landing. "Sorry," she says, stopping about a foot behind E'gin's resting spot.

Mad? Mad?! There is no time to be mad, Vysravth barely notices the green as his prey /finally/ moves a pace he deems worthy of an honorable (and quick) death, even if it wasn't of it's own accord. The head of the lucky fish is ripped from its wiggling body before it has time to protest, not that a fishy protest would stop the predatory brown. Still, he isn't very hungry and now that his game is over, and his conversation interupted he gives the green a rumbled greeting. His own mental picture not as private, a vast darkness envelops the mental space between him and green, as slowly torch lights flicker to life in deepest parts of an abandoned weyr. Silence. This seems to be greeting enough for the male. E'gin grins at Evali and shakes his head. Stretching as he sits up to wave a hello, "Oh no, it is fine." A beat, "How's it going, Evali?" He moves over to leave room on his sand free blanket.

Yanijath appears to have actually helped. How about that! She looks delighted, and inches toward the floating fish corpse with a delicate sniff. << Are you not going to eat that, Vysravth? >> she inquires, twirling her silk strands around his torch. << Because I would like it if you're not! Shame to let it go to waste! >> Evali is either tuning it out or unbothered, and after a moment's stilted hesitation takes the implied-invited seat. "It -- is going," she hazards. "Yourself?"

A soft fog plays eerily in the flickering light off the silk strands. Still, when Vysravth does speak it is a pleased tone, his voice low and rough, << If you would like it, Yanijath, please enjoy it. >> E'gin meanwhile is measuring Evali's paused answer, he doesn't comment on it at the moment, only lets a grin play gentle across his features, "Oh, it is actually really good." He pauses, "Wouldn't mind something besides sweeps and drills to keep me busy, but all in all no complaints." Even after his answer his gaze is still searching in her's for a clue to the hesitant response, "What have you been up to? Found your niche yet?"

That fish is gone in seconds -- Yanijath has gulped it up unceremoniously. "So you and Lujayn," Evali starts, likely planning to ask something about their relationship -- but completely failing to, as instead she's catching up to the rest of what he's said and letting out a soft little laugh. "I would not mind such either. I intend to become a dragonhealer, but I keep -- not quite getting around to it." Yanijath, of course, makes sure Vysravth knows just how painfully, shamefully shy her lifemate is.

E'gin lifts an eyebrow at the mention of Lujayn but his grin returns with an overly large shrug, meant to play off the idea but instead showing a bit of pride at the situation, "Yah. We're, you know, just seeing how stuff goes - minus the daughter and all." He can't surpress a beaming smile, at least for a second before it is recaged into his normal grin, "Evali, you'd be great at that. You did seem really good in the dragon anatomy classes, and you're, you know -calming. You should talk to someone." The male offers encouragingly.

"I would love to see her," Evali confesses, this being the first exile child whose birth she's had no hand in. It's also a way to deflect attention off her for a few minutes, but the conversation does cycle back that way rather quickly and she looks down at the ground. "I know," she says. "It is just so -- I am not good at speaking up for myself, really. I'm not like Io, or Emme, or you. Or Ri, even." Yanijath /actually/ snorts.

"Nalani is gorgeous." For a moment E'gin is completely transformed as he speaks about his daughter, but then he's back as he studies Evali's downward look, "Hey..." He smiles comfortingly, "I get it. Besides, the last thing this place is needs is more of me." His easy self-deprication obviously meant to put her at ease, "But you deserve to do what you want, and you'd be good at it. I can talk to Lujayn for you. I mean. She might be able to help." Vysravth snakes his head to get a better look at Yanijath, slowly a machine is awakened in the bowels of the weyr where he resides, far beneath the range of the torch. It groans to life, << Did you enjoy it? I could kill another one for you. >>

<< It was delicious, >> Yanijath chirps, not pointing out she can kill fish just as well herself -- because why do that, if someone's doing it for you? Evali, on the other hand, is softening into a genuine smile, especially at how happy E'gin looks when talking about his child. "I would like that, actually, if you didn't mind. I always thought she was rather sweet, and -- she seems helpful, usually." Because Evali already asked Tiriana for something once in her life, and that's where she's stopping.

Vysravth doesn't bother to rip the head off the next one. He leaves it mostly dead as an offering in front of Yanijath. The metallic sound of turning clogs is his answer. E'gin seems to relax, and nod, "I don't mind at all, Evali." The male offers as his lips curl up in a smile, "She is, she's different." The comparison to the weyr's other goldriders, "I'll see if she can help, or at least point you in the right direction." He pauses, "What else have you been up to?"

"Not much of anything, honestly. Listening to Emme's work; fixing up my garden," is Evali's soft explanation of her life. "That and sweeps and drills," she adds with a slightly brighter smile. "And they all seem to be. Different. Here. From one another, the goldriders." She can't think of any real overarching qualities between all three except that Lujayn and Iolene are sweet. Yanijath trills happily, and snakes out her tongue to lap up and swallow whole one fabulously tasty fish.

"Emme's work? Did she get into the harpers?" E'gin seems pleased at this news, "Sweeps and drills." Is the echo, as monotonous as the task. He responds to the gold question with only a nod; he's busy watching the brown, who has gutted another fish for the green, he chuckles softly, "He's flirting with her." Because apparently the presentation of mutilated fish is flirting to the brown, "I prefer when he keeps it out of the weyr." He glances over at Evali, "Avalanche picked up the sweeps over Boll. Have you gotten out to travel much? It is really pretty there, if you hadn't had a chance you should go."

Evali shakes her head; not to Emme getting into the Harpers, though, because at the same time that she's shaking her head no she is saying, "Yes, she did." And then, as if realizing the absurdity of her own motion, adds, "Er. And I rarely if ever travel; I haven't been out there. She flirts with everyone." Which may be meant to be a disclaimer; Yanijath certainly seems to be enjoying the attention, offering up delighted little sounds and playful mental images.

"Good?" E'gin follows the roundabout path to the answer, "Good." Then as the greenrider mentions that the green flirts with everyone he eases again offering only another, "Good." Then he chuckles, "I'll tell him to not let it go to his head." His legs cross infront of him and he leans his head on a propped up hand. "You should travel, while you have time. You might not have much once your dragon healing." He grins.

"I -- maybe," is all Evali says on the matter. She's not very worldly, and the fact she rarely ever leaves the Weyr doesn't seem to surprise anyone. "Yanijath would like it." Definitely; Yanijath looks thrilled at the idea, and is passing along all sorts of silent mental encouragement. "I am sure he has enough to go to his head, having children at his age!"

"It's not so bad, and you always get to come back. Okay, not Boll, where have you been?" E'gin grins, the kind of grin that says someone has an idea. "Hey, that is why we started going out, because of what Vysravth liked." The details of what was liked not hard to imagine, "But now we go cause sometimes we just, you know, need to stretch our wings." E'gin laughs, clearly he has told Vysravth what was said because the brown puffs a little, his wings lifting just slightly. Yah. He reproduced. "Still, he's always thinking about what is next."

"Um," says Evali, looking a bit embarrassed. "Here. And the island. And High Reaches Hold." Okay, so her sweeps are boring and not very far-reaching, and other than sweeps she doesn't really go anywhere at all. Yanijath is mentally laughing at her, bells ringing inside Evali and Vysravth's minds. << They're the bees' knees, your kids are. Gonna be bigger'n me if they're not already! And she's just silly, Evvy, she'll get over it and we'll see all of Pern. >>

"Oh see. You've been some places. I bet not very many dragonriders here have been to the island." E'gin smiles softly, "You're already more traveled than them. Most of them won't even be able to envision it." He pauses, "Well if you, or Yanijath, ever want to go anywhere you let us know. You can come with us." Vysravth is quiet for a moment, beneath the torch light even the machine's noises seem lower, until finally he seems willing to allow the bells and ringing to take over and lightening bugs dot the dark sky, << They are big. Very big. If you two would ever like to be escorted somewhere... >> The dragon echoes his rider, << E'gin just wants to make sure she is happy. >>

Evali laughs a little, under her breath. "I do not know that it counts as well-traveled to have been to one place," she manages, but she is halfway watching the dragons with a smile on her face. "And maybe. Maybe we can all go somewhere together." Of course, she's managed to forget that E'gin and Iolene don't get on, which is done by matter of force -- she hates to think about people arguing. "In the mythic time when everyone actually /can/." Yanijath dips under the water momentarily, and resurfaces to say, << She is. She is just simple. She needs to expand her horizons. >>

E'gin laughs softly and shrugs, "We can. Meet some new people, make some new friends, learn some new things." At the moment though he getting to his feet and dusting the sand off his pants. "Oh, there will be a time Evali, next time." Because they don't get to talk often, obviously next time will be this mythical time. Vysravth is still eyeing the little green, << We will help. >> He offers, << But now we must go. Almost time for sweeps. >> The torches are suddenly extinguished, the silence returns and the darkness vanishes.

<< Have fun! >> Yanijath trills, bells and whistles and shiny silks. Because sweeps, of course, are massive amounts of fun. Or at least she makes them so! Evali lets out another soft chortle, and stands up -- because it is E'gin's blanket she's sitting on, after all. "I will ask Emme and Riorde, for certain, what they think about traveling." If not anyone else, though she'd like to convince Iolene -- and then there's Taikrin. "Have a -- nice sweep?"

"Whoever you want to bring along, Evali, but we need to bust you out of this place." E'gin grins as he reaches down to collect his blanket, "It was good to see you, Evali." He smiles and begins to walk off before turning for just a second to add, "And you really need to me Nalani." And then he is off.

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Hypatia

2012-04-11T00:45:04Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Hypatia.jpg
|name=Hypatia
|position=Apprentice
|craft=Healer
|dragon=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Hadass
|father=Isfauri
|children=
|siblings=Haley (deceased, +9), Ezekiel (+2), younger brother (-3)
|friends=I'han (NPC), Zerenynio
|playedby=Kaya Scodelario
|livejournal=[http://healerbrat.livejournal.com/ healerbrat]}}

== Description ==
Dark brown hair falls in waves past Hypatia's shoulders, framing an angular face marked by slate-blue eyes and an upturned nose. Standing at about five foot six, her slender build and confident stance can make her appear slightly taller; once made entirely of points and sharp edges, she has at last grown into something one might call a womanly figure. She is often found in some form of make-up, dark kohl near-always lining her eyes to add to the illusion of older age.

Her day-to-day clothing is plain and straightforward: a simple white blouse has its sleeves usually rolled up, and is tucked into equally straightforward black trousers.

== WYSK ==
* Born to a High Reaches Hold assistant headwoman and her artist husband, Hypatia is the only girl of four children. Her oldest brother died in the Comet Pass when she was three and she has little to no memory of him, but talks about him and his death in a matter-of-fact way some can find offputting.

* Managed at 14 to get out from under the wing of her overprotective parents to apprentice at Healer Hall; posted to High Reaches Weyr two turns later.

* Hypatia is very opinionated and generally has a sarcastic sense of humor that sometimes tips into the macabre and grisly. Despite this, she's actually a pretty good Healer for all that her interests lie much more in what's wrong with people than the people themselves. People are interesting as people, but as patients, it is the pathology that holds her curiosity.

* Her primary hobby is knitting, and she is often seen during the colder seasons wearing various stocking caps with abnormally long tails.

* Despite her nearly everpresent sarcasm, Hypatia is rather sociable and likes talking to just about anyone.

== History ==
Born and raised at High Reaches Hold, Hypatia is her parents' fourth and last child. She was born only three turns before the start of the Comet Pass, and so her earliest memories are riddled with unexpected Thread and unexpected Threadfalls. Her oldest brother, twelve at the time, died as a result -- but Hypatia barely remembers him now and isn't influenced by it past the overprotectiveness it inspired in her parents. They shadowed her whenever they could, sheltered her past the point of reason. Unable to understand this as a result of grief and not a result of just being obnoxious, Hypatia still resents them.

At age fourteen, Hypatia finally got the chance to leave: she expressed an interest to the hold's posted Healer to become an apprentice. Healing had always interested her, though she'd never had the nerve to speak up about it before, fearing the reaction of her overly-clingy parents. Her living brother, two years her senior, still hadn't been allowed to do anything besides work under his parents.

Thankfully for her, somehow a journeyman at the hold managed to talk her parents, or at least her father, into something a little more reasonable, and Hypatia actually got the beginning steps to a career: she moved to the Healer Hall a month later.

Two turns passed, in which Hypatia became more and more competent, more and more thrilled with her career choice and more and more free from her family. This didn't stop her from /missing/ her family, of course, which was really a shock to her. When the opportunity to move to High Reaches Weyr's new Craft Complex arose shortly after her sixteenth turnday, Hypatia jumped at it with all the enthusiasm of a recently-hatched firelizard on a pile of raw meat.

== Relationships ==
* Her best friend is NPC greenrider I'han, once Ildrehan. They were a year apart in age and inseparable at the Hold until Hypatia left, and I'han was Searched only a few months later.
* While Hypatia initially held the exiles in some contempt, she's come to realize more and more that her initial hostility was due to horror at what her own home could keep secret. Nowadays, exile riders [[Iolene]] and [[Emme]] are considered friends.
* There are two other Healers she looks up to: Journeyman Petros at the main Hall who studies forensics and has been guiding her ever since she inserted herself in the mystery of Seani's death and then Thedrin's disappearance; and local Weyr Journeyman [[Madilla]], who she thinks is a delight to be around.
* Hypatia thinks [[Sa'zl]] is ridiculous, but she's nice to him anyway.
* She's got great respect for [[K'del]] as Weyrleader, and legitimately enjoys spending time around him to boot.
* [[Zerenynio]] and Hypatia came to High Reaches around the same time and helped each other move in. Since then they've had a friendship consisting mostly of teasing each other, despite the difference in age and rank.
* [[Azaylia]] is a new friendship born of old acquaintance, and she's teaching Hypatia to ride better, which is always appreciated.

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Healers]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:A Lakeside Chat

2012-03-31T01:27:16Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Azaylia, Hypatia
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Azaylia's getting water, Hypatia's drawing bones.
| when = Day 15, month 5, turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.03.30
| quote = It's the nicest foot I've ever seen.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons = azaylia.jpg, hypatia lawn.png
| log =

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)

----

The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.

----

It's late afternoon and Hypatia is taking advantage of the nice weather and interesting sun angle around the lake to do some of her work outside. She's on a blanket settled on the sand, legs crossed, notebook leaned up against one knee. The healer is muttering softly to herself periodically as she sketches; anyone who can get a good look at what she's drawing will be able to identify it as a human foot, bones only, with numbers and names scribbled all over the page.

Azaylia is actually not bundled up like some woolen mummy today, and the gorgeous spring weather is the culprit. Patched up blue dress falls short and is a touch too tight in certain places, though black leggings keep lengthy limbs decent as the beastcrafter approaches. Swinging both arms, she barely avoids skipping, though her pace is quick and energetic, empty bucket clutched in one hand. She slows at the sight of Hypatia, wordlessly approaching as curiosity gets the best of her, not even realizing her own actions. Standing up on tiptoes, she tries to peer over the healer's shoulder at what she's sketching.

Hypatia lifts her head, sensing someone behind her -- and upon realizing she's being looked over, actually tilts her head all the way sideways away from Azaylia so that the beastcrafter can actually see her work, with a bit of a laugh. "Hi there," she says, smiling. "You want to sit? It's not that interesting but I don't mind giving you a look at this crap if you want, it's just a foot." Well: a foot skeleton, anyway.

"It's the nicest foot I've ever seen." Azaylia is quick, though quiet, to argue with Hypatia's depreciation of her work. The bucket is brought forward by both hands, holding it in front of herself as she offers a small smile. "Hello. Uhm, I'm getting water. For cleaning." The pail is wiggled for emphasis, " But I can sit for a little bit. I wanna see more." She descends, pausing to hover in a crouch, "If that's okay, I mean?" Her rump finally finds the blanket, legs crossing and tucked in so as not to take up too much space.

"It hasn't got any skin or muscles or anything; your taste in feet is very weird," Hypatia teases, but she's offering over the sketchbook to Azaylia entirely. "You can go ahead and look through it, though, if you want. The previous pages have a skull and a wrist-hand combination. Trying to make sure I remember all the names and metrics for exams, and I should probably take a break, so if you want to look at it that's forcing me away from it! I love the dress," the chatty healer continues to babble on apace.

Azaylia looks like a cervine caught by bright lights, brown eyes wide as she listens to Hypatia. The bucket is placed next to her, freeing her hands to take the sketchbook and look through the pages. "W-well, it's hard." She flips back to the foot, finger pointing at the bits of bones that make up the toes. "Harder than drawing a skin-foot, I mean. You have to remember so much." Whispered awe as she finds the wrist and hand sketches. The compliment catches up, and Azaylia's head lifts for a bashful smile. "Thank you. It's really old, but still good." Waste not, want not as Mama-zaylia always said.

Hypatia shakes her head a little, but she's still smiling -- obviously appreciating the praise -- as she explains, "Nah, I don't know about that. Considering drawing feet that are actually full feet need to look realistic, and it's not like people spend a lot of time staring at foot bones? But I do have to know them in case somebody breaks a foot or something. And feet have so many. They're a pain. It's a really good color on you, though," she segues back to the dress without actually pausing for a breath. The foot is not actually a good color on Azaylia, even if Hypatia might make it sound that way. "Want me to grab your water, while you're perusing? I don't mind."

Azaylia gives a short nod, "I bet the healer that did my wrist," book is nestled in the canopy of her dress as she points to the right body part with her left. "Knew a lot about it. It got sprained when I fell off a runner." She offers up, unsure as to why though not finding Hypatia the type to be annoyed with such. Perhaps it's the healer apprentice's mile a minute way of talking. And just as before, it takes the simple beastcrafter a moment to juggle both subjects. Chin tucking into her chest bashfully, her hair falls in a curtain on either side. "...thankyou. Blue is my favorite. And yellow. Uhm. You don't have to, with the water I mean. It's my job." Page is flipped to the skull which causes her to straighten up a bit. "Peopleskulls look like squashed beast skulls." Huh. Who knew?

Taking 'you don't have to' as about the same as 'no,' Hypatia -- well, she doesn't. She just nods, agreeing, "Blue's my favorite too. A pale blue, specifically, more often than anything else. You'd think it'd be purple, though, right? And I'm sure about that healer, 'cause sprains require knowing the bones and the tendons and ligaments real well to put them back in place. That's not the kind of thing I'm really ever doing but I have to know about it --" Of course, the comment about the skull does catch up to her eventually, and she lets out a loud laugh. "Oh! Do they? Which ones in particular? I'm always asking runners why the long face, and they never seem to have much to say."

"The eyeholes and noses, all beasts kinda look the same when they're skulls. Runners have funny teeth, though. That people and bovines don't have- but all the skulls have pointy bits and holes in kind of the same palce." Azaylia explains, hesitant at sounding not so bright in comparison to Hypatia's medical knowhow. With a blink, the joke sinks in and coaxes Azaylia to giggle, glancing at the healer with a squint of 'you so silly'. "It'd be wonderful if they could. Talk, I mean."

"I wonder what they'd say," Hypatia muses, pushing fallen hair from her face as she glances out halfway at Azaylia and halfway out at the lake. "I know some dragons are chatty, and a lot of runners are /mouthy/ in a literal sense -- as in, they chew on walls and stuff. Though I think they're not supposed to do that, bad for the teeth?" she guesses, not really being an expert. "My brother's got a few."

Azaylia is silent as she muses over what runners or even herdbeasts might say as she went about her daily duties. Would they sing along with her to help pass the time? Starry-eyed, the young woman is snapped out of it only by the subject of dragons. "Aaah..." Comes the fearful exhale. "Good thing only their riders can hear- that's how it works, right?" She bets they sound scary! Though the subject of animals has her nodding, "Runners chew when they get bored, which is worse for them then the actual wood. My sister and her husband breed them."

"Oh!" Suddenly, Hypatia is even more all ears than she was -- which is actually hard. "Really? Where, because maybe that's where my family gets theirs? I don't know, I haven't been to visit but a few times in a couple turns. Political tensions, et cetera, recently, and also my brother doesn't really talk that much about it to me as he assumes I'm not interested. I'm not the world's worst rider ever, though, I just don't do it much. And dragons? Yeah, only their riders can hear. I've heard rumors of dragons talking directly to others but I've never seen it."

"Keroon. They live close to home." Still quiet, there's a bit more energy in Azaylia's voice- perhaps she feels like she has to keep up with Hypatia? She glances down and realizes that she's been toying with the corner of a page for some time, going back to flipping through and looking at the apprentice's handywork. "I think I might, uhm, wet myself if a dragon talked to me." She admits, just a touch ashamed. She lives in a weyr, for goodness sake! "We've got runners just for riding in the stalls, if you ever wanted to practice."

Hypatia doesn't judge. She doesn't actually say much of anything, really, keeping a steady single expression throughout. "I probably should, really, especially if I ever actually have to go back to the Hold." How she feels about /that/ is left extremely ambiguous by her tone of voice. "Maybe you can give me a lesson? I -- think he's got the one stallion from Keroon, but the others are probably High Reaches Hold born and bred. Not that it's exactly the pinnacle of animal breeding, there."

Azaylia brightens considerably, smile wide as her eyes light up. "I'd /love/ to help you ride better!" Even that 'exclimation' is a quiet one, sounding more like a stage whisper without the forced strain. "Oh we have this dearheart, an older gelding? He'd be perfect for lessons." The excitement simmers down all too quickly, though her smile remains as she continues to talk with Hypatia. "It's important to have breeders everywhere. It's why I'm here- to see how things are done outside of Keroon."

"Better reason than mine," Hypatia confesses, considering her reasoning isn't all that fantastic: "I just moved because the craft complex here was a good excuse to be near my siblings and yet still manage to completely avoid my parents due to not being posted actually at the Hold." She actually sort of scoffs at the mention of her parents -- clearly not a fantastic relationship. "But I'd really appreciate the riding lessons. Can't pay you back in much, though, except for promised quick patch-ups and my hangover cure's getting a reputation amongst some of the riders ..."

"You... don't like your parents?" The concept sounds so alien, especially coming from Azaylia's lips and her brow wrinkles accordingly. It's only a moment later that she realizes it may be a personal question, picking up to give Hypatia a graceful way out. "Oh, no. You don't have to pay me back. I mean- it'd be so fun on it's own, and I like helping people." Her head dips and she bites her lower lip somewhat, "Besides, I don't drink." Of course she doesn't.

Hypatia shrugs. Still not judging! She does try not to, after all, unless it's in making fun of someone -- which doesn't, at the moment, seem appropriate. "Eh. My parents are very -- overbearing. Paranoid. Since my brother died. Act like they own their kids, and my mother's an assistant to the Headwoman so she's /everywhere/. Keeps my other brothers completely under her outrageously overprotective wing, because of course we are all going to get killed by stray Thread." This time, it's a real scoff. "Right, whatever. I do like my parents, you know, periodically. Once a month or so."

Azaylia is quiet as she lets Hypatia explain, blinking rapidly whenever the other girl says something shocking. She's blinking a lot. "W...well, I'm sure they're only that way because they love you so much. Uhm. My father's kind of like that." Trying not to be too contrary, however, she pipes up. "I like how you know what you want, though. It's strong." A small curl of her lips born of admiration manages to settle on her face, remaining for as long as she's able to talk to Hypatia. She won't even notice the pass of time or the fact that it's likely the most she's ever said to one person. Luckily, there are no dire consequences should her chore chore go undone for however long the young women sit and chat.

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Logs:A Lakeside Chat

2012-03-31T01:25:56Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Azaylia, Hypatia | where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr | what = Azaylia's getting water, Hypatia's drawing bones. | when = Day 15, month 5, turn 28 | gamedate = ..."

{{ Log
| who = Azaylia, Hypatia
| where = Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Azaylia's getting water, Hypatia's drawing bones.
| when = Day 15, month 5, turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.03.30
| quote = It's the nicest foot I've ever seen.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| icons =
| log =

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)

----

The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.

----

It's late afternoon and Hypatia is taking advantage of the nice weather and interesting sun angle around the lake to do some of her work outside. She's on a blanket settled on the sand, legs crossed, notebook leaned up against one knee. The healer is muttering softly to herself periodically as she sketches; anyone who can get a good look at what she's drawing will be able to identify it as a human foot, bones only, with numbers and names scribbled all over the page.

Azaylia is actually not bundled up like some woolen mummy today, and the gorgeous spring weather is the culprit. Patched up blue dress falls short and is a touch too tight in certain places, though black leggings keep lengthy limbs decent as the beastcrafter approaches. Swinging both arms, she barely avoids skipping, though her pace is quick and energetic, empty bucket clutched in one hand. She slows at the sight of Hypatia, wordlessly approaching as curiosity gets the best of her, not even realizing her own actions. Standing up on tiptoes, she tries to peer over the healer's shoulder at what she's sketching.

Hypatia lifts her head, sensing someone behind her -- and upon realizing she's being looked over, actually tilts her head all the way sideways away from Azaylia so that the beastcrafter can actually see her work, with a bit of a laugh. "Hi there," she says, smiling. "You want to sit? It's not that interesting but I don't mind giving you a look at this crap if you want, it's just a foot." Well: a foot skeleton, anyway.

"It's the nicest foot I've ever seen." Azaylia is quick, though quiet, to argue with Hypatia's depreciation of her work. The bucket is brought forward by both hands, holding it in front of herself as she offers a small smile. "Hello. Uhm, I'm getting water. For cleaning." The pail is wiggled for emphasis, " But I can sit for a little bit. I wanna see more." She descends, pausing to hover in a crouch, "If that's okay, I mean?" Her rump finally finds the blanket, legs crossing and tucked in so as not to take up too much space.

"It hasn't got any skin or muscles or anything; your taste in feet is very weird," Hypatia teases, but she's offering over the sketchbook to Azaylia entirely. "You can go ahead and look through it, though, if you want. The previous pages have a skull and a wrist-hand combination. Trying to make sure I remember all the names and metrics for exams, and I should probably take a break, so if you want to look at it that's forcing me away from it! I love the dress," the chatty healer continues to babble on apace.

Azaylia looks like a cervine caught by bright lights, brown eyes wide as she listens to Hypatia. The bucket is placed next to her, freeing her hands to take the sketchbook and look through the pages. "W-well, it's hard." She flips back to the foot, finger pointing at the bits of bones that make up the toes. "Harder than drawing a skin-foot, I mean. You have to remember so much." Whispered awe as she finds the wrist and hand sketches. The compliment catches up, and Azaylia's head lifts for a bashful smile. "Thank you. It's really old, but still good." Waste not, want not as Mama-zaylia always said.

Hypatia shakes her head a little, but she's still smiling -- obviously appreciating the praise -- as she explains, "Nah, I don't know about that. Considering drawing feet that are actually full feet need to look realistic, and it's not like people spend a lot of time staring at foot bones? But I do have to know them in case somebody breaks a foot or something. And feet have so many. They're a pain. It's a really good color on you, though," she segues back to the dress without actually pausing for a breath. The foot is not actually a good color on Azaylia, even if Hypatia might make it sound that way. "Want me to grab your water, while you're perusing? I don't mind."

Azaylia gives a short nod, "I bet the healer that did my wrist," book is nestled in the canopy of her dress as she points to the right body part with her left. "Knew a lot about it. It got sprained when I fell off a runner." She offers up, unsure as to why though not finding Hypatia the type to be annoyed with such. Perhaps it's the healer apprentice's mile a minute way of talking. And just as before, it takes the simple beastcrafter a moment to juggle both subjects. Chin tucking into her chest bashfully, her hair falls in a curtain on either side. "...thankyou. Blue is my favorite. And yellow. Uhm. You don't have to, with the water I mean. It's my job." Page is flipped to the skull which causes her to straighten up a bit. "Peopleskulls look like squashed beast skulls." Huh. Who knew?

Taking 'you don't have to' as about the same as 'no,' Hypatia -- well, she doesn't. She just nods, agreeing, "Blue's my favorite too. A pale blue, specifically, more often than anything else. You'd think it'd be purple, though, right? And I'm sure about that healer, 'cause sprains require knowing the bones and the tendons and ligaments real well to put them back in place. That's not the kind of thing I'm really ever doing but I have to know about it --" Of course, the comment about the skull does catch up to her eventually, and she lets out a loud laugh. "Oh! Do they? Which ones in particular? I'm always asking runners why the long face, and they never seem to have much to say."

"The eyeholes and noses, all beasts kinda look the same when they're skulls. Runners have funny teeth, though. That people and bovines don't have- but all the skulls have pointy bits and holes in kind of the same palce." Azaylia explains, hesitant at sounding not so bright in comparison to Hypatia's medical knowhow. With a blink, the joke sinks in and coaxes Azaylia to giggle, glancing at the healer with a squint of 'you so silly'. "It'd be wonderful if they could. Talk, I mean."

"I wonder what they'd say," Hypatia muses, pushing fallen hair from her face as she glances out halfway at Azaylia and halfway out at the lake. "I know some dragons are chatty, and a lot of runners are /mouthy/ in a literal sense -- as in, they chew on walls and stuff. Though I think they're not supposed to do that, bad for the teeth?" she guesses, not really being an expert. "My brother's got a few."

Azaylia is silent as she muses over what runners or even herdbeasts might say as she went about her daily duties. Would they sing along with her to help pass the time? Starry-eyed, the young woman is snapped out of it only by the subject of dragons. "Aaah..." Comes the fearful exhale. "Good thing only their riders can hear- that's how it works, right?" She bets they sound scary! Though the subject of animals has her nodding, "Runners chew when they get bored, which is worse for them then the actual wood. My sister and her husband breed them."

"Oh!" Suddenly, Hypatia is even more all ears than she was -- which is actually hard. "Really? Where, because maybe that's where my family gets theirs? I don't know, I haven't been to visit but a few times in a couple turns. Political tensions, et cetera, recently, and also my brother doesn't really talk that much about it to me as he assumes I'm not interested. I'm not the world's worst rider ever, though, I just don't do it much. And dragons? Yeah, only their riders can hear. I've heard rumors of dragons talking directly to others but I've never seen it."

"Keroon. They live close to home." Still quiet, there's a bit more energy in Azaylia's voice- perhaps she feels like she has to keep up with Hypatia? She glances down and realizes that she's been toying with the corner of a page for some time, going back to flipping through and looking at the apprentice's handywork. "I think I might, uhm, wet myself if a dragon talked to me." She admits, just a touch ashamed. She lives in a weyr, for goodness sake! "We've got runners just for riding in the stalls, if you ever wanted to practice."

Hypatia doesn't judge. She doesn't actually say much of anything, really, keeping a steady single expression throughout. "I probably should, really, especially if I ever actually have to go back to the Hold." How she feels about /that/ is left extremely ambiguous by her tone of voice. "Maybe you can give me a lesson? I -- think he's got the one stallion from Keroon, but the others are probably High Reaches Hold born and bred. Not that it's exactly the pinnacle of animal breeding, there."

Azaylia brightens considerably, smile wide as her eyes light up. "I'd /love/ to help you ride better!" Even that 'exclimation' is a quiet one, sounding more like a stage whisper without the forced strain. "Oh we have this dearheart, an older gelding? He'd be perfect for lessons." The excitement simmers down all too quickly, though her smile remains as she continues to talk with Hypatia. "It's important to have breeders everywhere. It's why I'm here- to see how things are done outside of Keroon."

"Better reason than mine," Hypatia confesses, considering her reasoning isn't all that fantastic: "I just moved because the craft complex here was a good excuse to be near my siblings and yet still manage to completely avoid my parents due to not being posted actually at the Hold." She actually sort of scoffs at the mention of her parents -- clearly not a fantastic relationship. "But I'd really appreciate the riding lessons. Can't pay you back in much, though, except for promised quick patch-ups and my hangover cure's getting a reputation amongst some of the riders ..."

"You... don't like your parents?" The concept sounds so alien, especially coming from Azaylia's lips and her brow wrinkles accordingly. It's only a moment later that she realizes it may be a personal question, picking up to give Hypatia a graceful way out. "Oh, no. You don't have to pay me back. I mean- it'd be so fun on it's own, and I like helping people." Her head dips and she bites her lower lip somewhat, "Besides, I don't drink." Of course she doesn't.

Hypatia shrugs. Still not judging! She does try not to, after all, unless it's in making fun of someone -- which doesn't, at the moment, seem appropriate. "Eh. My parents are very -- overbearing. Paranoid. Since my brother died. Act like they own their kids, and my mother's an assistant to the Headwoman so she's /everywhere/. Keeps my other brothers completely under her outrageously overprotective wing, because of course we are all going to get killed by stray Thread." This time, it's a real scoff. "Right, whatever. I do like my parents, you know, periodically. Once a month or so."

Azaylia is quiet as she lets Hypatia explain, blinking rapidly whenever the other girl says something shocking. She's blinking a lot. "W...well, I'm sure they're only that way because they love you so much. Uhm. My father's kind of like that." Trying not to be too contrary, however, she pipes up. "I like how you know what you want, though. It's strong." A small curl of her lips born of admiration manages to settle on her face, remaining for as long as she's able to talk to Hypatia. She won't even notice the pass of time or the fact that it's likely the most she's ever said to one person. Luckily, there are no dire consequences should her chore chore go undone for however long the young women sit and chat.

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Sa'zl/Mentions

2012-03-30T23:32:42Z

Evali: Created page with "== Mentioned In... Logs == {{RP Logs | name = {{#titleparts: {{BASEPAGENAME}} | 1 }}/Mentions | columns = 3 }}"

== Mentioned In... Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{#titleparts: {{BASEPAGENAME}} | 1 }}/Mentions | columns = 3 }}

Logs:Success

2012-03-30T23:30:15Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Emme, Evali | where = Bookworm's Paradise Weyr, High Reaches Weyr | what = Day 3, Month 5, Turn 38 | when = After [[Logs:An Apprenticeship Resumed|Emme talks to Kh..."

{{ Log
| who = Emme, Evali
| where = Bookworm's Paradise Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Day 3, Month 5, Turn 38
| when = After [[Logs:An Apprenticeship Resumed|Emme talks to Kharven]], Rhazekth invites Evali and Yanijath over for wine.
| gamedate = 2012.03.30
| quote = She ''likes'' to knock people off of their self-created pedestals and metaphorically smack people upside the head.
| weather =
| categories = Exiles, The Exile Queen
| mentions = Devaki, Iolene, Kharven, Tiriana, E'gin, Lujayn, Sa'zl
| icons = emmeline.png, evali thoughtful.jpg
| log = True to her word after having the illuminating conversation with Kharven, Emme found herself at Snowasis to get a fresh new bottle of wine. One she intended to share, but not in a crowd. << Emme has news, if Evali would like to stop by her weyr. >> Rhazekth sent the words blowing in tantalizing fashion towards Yanijath, letting nothing at all slip as to what the news might be. And by the time the pair might arrive, the brownrider in question is already curled up in one of the reading chairs with a book in one hand and glass of liquid courage in the other.

<< On our way! >> comes Yanijath's return -- ''chirp'' is what it is, there as no real other word for it. Her mindvoice nearly bubbles over with excitement, wispy bits of glowing cloud extending out to Rhazekth. Evali may not be so easily excitable, but rather curious, and when the green settles down on the brown's ledge, she swiftly dismounts and calls out, "Emme? All right? No more corpses?" Just because Yanijath thought something was good didn't really mean anything.

The excitement of the tiny green amuses Rhazekth to no end; it fascinates him. As do the oddities of all his clutchmates really. He is as even keeled as its possible for a dragon to be, alas. A suspicious choking sound comes from Emme’s direction of course at the question of corpses, because it made her nearly spew out the expensive drink onto her precious paper. Coughing and eye-watering ensue as she tries to breathe again, waving Evali over towards the other chair. “Shards, no. I’d have busted out the hard liquor for that. I heard back from the Harper Hall today…” Lalala.

"Oh!" Evali tries not to sound too excited or impressed as she takes the few long-legged strides over to where Emme is and tries to get a glimpse at what she's holding. (Evali is terrible at unobtrusive and subtle; her peeking attempts are obvious.) "Is it -- good news, then? Because you did not bring out hard liquor, and I think maybe you might have for a rejection."

Emme points the stem of her glass towards the bottle on the table, which contains a lovely rich red wine. “Of a sort. It’s part really good news, and part frustratingly bitter ‘guidelines’.” She replies. But as she’s already had half a glass, it can be said with a smile. “Kharven said part of the reason they decided to let me back in the fold was that I’d obviously been practicing. I gave him a new song to take with and show them.”

Evali never says no to wine. It's likely the result of having the first non-exile she really had a not-entirely-terrifying conversation with being Zerenynio the vintner, but this greenrider is now a major wine connosseiur. She helps herself with a graceful smile, and queries, "Have I heard it? And what are they, your bitter guidelines?"

She may be considering asking what Rhazekth thinks, but Yanijath is beating her there, blowing curiosity in her brother's direction: << You're going to be a Harper? But you're a dragon! How's that work, huh? >>

For some reason, Emme just winds up being lucky when it comes to what wine she picks. She hasn’t found one she dislikes enough to empty the bottle out without finishing the contents, so it’s a good start. This one seems heavy on the blackberry flavor, with a hint of oak and vanilla mixed in. “You haven’t heard it yet. I wrote most of it from my own point of view, and thought maybe the rest of us might feel the same about things.” She muses, maybe even a bit mysteriously. “Ah yes, the guidelines. I’m to be on my ‘best behavior’, which was explained to me as essentially not being an agitator for exile recompense.”

<< Me, a Harper? >> Rhaz absolutely perks up at this idea. Uh oh. << I can be the very first dragon harper! >>

"What does that mean," Evali not-quite-asks around slow, satisfied sips of wine -- and fails to let Emme answer before she continues speaking. "This is truly a lovely blend. And I a sorry about Yanijath, she -- encourages trouble." The question, of course, had actually meant that Evali doesn't know what 'recompense' means, but she made the mistake of not specifying.

<< Isn't that what Emme's letter means? >> Yanijath just doesn't get it. << If she is a Harper aren't you? >>

<< Oh, there was no letter. The Weyr’s Sr. Harper told her. >> Because she practically stalked the man until he did. << Well, I cannot sing. Or play music. Or speak. And you need to speak to be a harper, Emme says. But I will be helping her. So I suspect you are correct. >> Which means he will call himself ‘Harper Rhaz’ from time to time.

“It really is, isn’t it. I just pointed at the bottle. Lucky again. I had a really nice white wine a few sevens ago that I haven’t finished yet, and…” Emme pauses, taking in the conversation between the brown and green. A stifled snort of laughter manages to escape. “Don’t apologize. She’s fantastic.” As for ‘what it means’, somehow she discerned the meaning behind the question, because after another draw of the wine she sighs and sets down the glass to answer. “It means I can’t be going around arguing for your bloodline to be restored as part of the Hold. Or make too much noise about how unfair it was that was that an exile happened in the first place.”

Not a muckraker like the rest of her family and many of her friends (and somehow, somewhere, Evali is sure her brother is frowning at her), the greenrider frowns a tiny bit and says, "Well. It is in the past. Nothing can be done now." She hesitates, and then adds, "Except move back someday, maybe. We could have our own Weyr with Io in charge; maybe that would be nice." So Evali isn't really for the status quo, but causing rapid change now? "I do not really want to be a Lady, anyway, even if Dev and Ki would make good Holders. Never say anything on ''my'' behalf." Maybe her family's, but not hers. Yanijath titters and points out, << You can speak! You make noises. There is a dragon at another weyr who sings. >> It's only the briefest of mental images of Fort's Selaroqoth she has to share, but it's something.

Emme is –such- a little shit-stirrer though! She ''likes'' to knock people off of their self-created pedestals and metaphorically smack people upside the head. But, … “You’re right. Which is why it pissed me off when Kharven told me their conditions. He didn’t exactly seem to agree with them. But, you know… I want to be a Harper to –help everyone-. And, obviously, to help keep our little island culture alive a bit. With music.” Now, the idea of their very own Io and Ysa-led Weyr… that causes a raised eyebrow. “That’s an interesting thought. Did you come up with that just now?”

<< Noises humans can’t understand. Maybe I can just be a harper for the dragons. >> Rhaz counters, certainly enjoying the idea. He also mentally tucks away the image of the singing dragon. << Oh, that’s quite lovely. >>

Yanijath is otherwise silent, but shimmering proud; whether it's simply because Rhazekth likes her gossip or because of what Evali is about to say is unclear. Her rider, on theother hand, doesn't look proud so much as pensive. "Yanijath did, actually. She thinks Ysavaeth should be the only queen, even though she does ''like'' Iovniath; she thinks Ysavaeth is ''our'' queen." She shrugs; takes a slow, lingering sip of wine. "Keeping culture alive is important. Maybe when I have a baby you and Iolene will sing her songs and tell her stories." Evali wasn't really ever good at either.

Rhazekth is happy to take credit for Yanijath’s proud shimmer. So in return, he glints smugly against the sunlight. “With all the exiles that impressed, she kind of –is- our queen. And it isn’t as if Iovniath’s rider will have much to do with us anyway.” Shrug. “Oh, Evali. You know I will love to sing songs and tell stories to your children. I’m quite sure Iolene will too. “ There’s a speculative pause there, where wine works its way to loosening Emme’s tongue. “You trying to tell us something? Have you found a mate?”

"Nothing like that," is Evali's rather quick but not really defensive response, shaking her head a little. "I just know I'll have a child someday, and Yanijath insists she will be sure of it. I assume this is because she is asking every dragon with a male rider if anyone would like to volunteer," which Yanijath pointedly does not deny, "and maybe that is not how I would prefer to become with child, but it is better than nothing, I suppose. If there were Thread, apparently it would be harder for me. That is what they say. And --" She's trying to muster a defense based on one interaction, but it falls flat due to her natural inclination to defend Iolene. "-- Well, the Weyrwoman was nice to me once. And Iovniath is not to blame for her rider's actions."

Emme doesn’t quite manage to stifle an amused snort at Yanijath’s meddling. “I suspect when the time comes that I want to have a baby, Rhaz will start picking greens to chase that have male riders. Dragons are rather meddlesome creatures aren’t they.” Outside, the brown dragons cheerfully croons his agreement. Meddler, and proud of it. “No, no. Iovniath isn’t to blame for her rider’s actions. And I can hardly blame her for not letting any of us close to the eggs after that one incident. I just don’t like how Io’s being treated. E’gin and I had ideas to maybe help. But, it would definitely not go over well to start shopping around for a sympathetic Weyrwoman to teach her things.”

"You are both," Evali starts to catch on, as Emme mentions herself, E'gin and a weyrwoman, "close to Lujayn. Yes?" Is it possible that the shy young woman who normally stays as far away from politics as possible is paying attention to something and picking up on it properly? Could be: timid doesn't always mean stupid. In fact, it normally doesn't.

“Lujayn was really the least judgemental, and the nicest person when I spent all that time closed in to the records room.” Emme agrees, a smirk appearing when E’gin’s closeness to Lu is also mentioned. “In a way it doesn’t’ seem fair to ask it of her, since she’s nominally under the Weyrwoman’s command. It could make things difficult for her. But, I guess /not/ asking is just as bad in a way. It’s a good idea.”

Evali blinks. Once, twice, three times -- "It wasn't one," she rather splutters, seeming surprised by the interpretation of what she said. "I assumed you had been talking about it already, and that was merely why I asked; I figured you would have ''already'' -- ''I'' was not meaning to suggest it." It seems now that there's no way to get out of having apparently suggested it, however. Another glass of wine for Evali, now.

“It was Weyrwomen from other Weyrs I considered asking, on Iolene’s behalf. There are plenty of people upset with High Reaches right now. It may not have been hard to find someone willing to teach what she needed to know, even if it was just to get even.” There. That right there is the scheming little part of Emme that she usually keeps to herself. Or at least to as few people as possible. “But then, it might also get Io in trouble. So…

"Oh." Slowly, Evali appears to comprehend. "Like Fort, where Yanijath's friend the singing dragon is, I suppose. But that would just get everyone in trouble, would it not? Bad blood between Weyrs is dangerous." Isn't it? Wasn't it supposed to be? Evali couldn't say she really knew. "Or -- that is what we were taught. It is always possible to have been taught wrong." Maybe Devaki wouldn't feel so let down by her after all.

“Exactly.” And between a last drink from her glass and a pour for more, Emme is nodding along with Evali. “Apparently, yeah. I’m not sure why, since if I remember right each Weyr is autonomous. But I guess during the big weyrleader meetings…. Well, it could cause problems. But we certainly could have been taught wrong.” Is agreed again, followed by a grimace. “Enough of –that-. Let’s find something cheerful to gossip about. I’ll show you the song, too, once you’re good and wasted. So you’ll think it’s great even if it’s not.” She teases, holding out her glass to clink against the greenrider’s.

"Conclave? Or is that -- that is Holds?" Evali either didn't try very hard to learn, or forgets very easily. Or she's actually intoxicated already, which is extremely unlikely; she's got a very high alcohol tolerance. "And you are vicious and wicked and it is very, very hard to get me wasted, miss. I am sure I will like it anyway." She falls flat on the subject of gossip: Evali never knows any, and her usual source is only offering, "Yanijath says Yggdratth chews his paws. That is not very good gossip."

“Uh-huh. I think a…. Council for the Weyrs.” But where Evali has a high tolerance? It doesn’t seem to matter how much Emme drinks in an effort to build hers; she’ll always have a low one. Even now, she looks utterly completely supremely relaxed. Not a care in the world. Sorry, no giggly drunk here. “Well, that’s no fun.” She can be heard to mutter, only having to reach up towards a nearby shelf to grab the scroll she’d kept as a copy of her song. So she can slip the paper into Evali’s hands. “Yggdratth chews his paws? Whatever for? That can’t be tasty.”

Evali is momentarily distracted by the scroll, and so doesn't look up at first as she unrolls it -- and therefore doesn't actually answer the question at first. When she does, it's an uncertain, "She might be making it up," with a distant shrug, attention given more to the song. "Or maybe he's itchy. This is very good, actually, and I am still not drunk." Slightly buzzed, but not drunk.

“Itchy. Well, that makes sense. Hmm, sorry – not big on thinking much once I’m on my second glass.” Emme points out rather cheerfully. “You like it? That means a lot. To me. The Hall said it showed promise. But I’ve been more concerned with the other exiles being comfortable with it.” She admits a bit quietly. “So thank you. And, for coming over to celebrate with me.” Of course, it’s likely she will just talk Evali’s ear off now until her voice is hoarse and she’s about to pass out.
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Evali/Comments

2012-03-26T22:48:10Z

Evali:

Hypatia/Comments

2012-03-11T06:02:45Z

Evali: Created page with "== Comments Made in Logs == {{RP Logs | name = Hypatia/Comments | columns = 3 }}"

== Comments Made in Logs ==

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Logs talk:A Snowasis Evening In Three Parts

2012-03-11T06:00:08Z

Evali: Comment provided by Hypatia - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:A Snowasis Evening In Three Parts]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Hypatia/Comments|Hypatia]] ([[User:Evali|Evali]]) left a comment on Sun, 11 Mar 2012 06:00:07 GMT.

<comment date="2012-03-11T06:00:07Z" name="Hypatia" signature="[[User:Evali|Evali]]">
At first I was going to just say I loved Ri, but no, I actually love everyone. So, so much.
</comment>

Logs talk:Amareth's Maiden Flight

2012-03-11T00:54:37Z

Evali: Comment provided by Evali - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Amareth's Maiden Flight]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Evali/Comments|Evali]] ([[User:Evali|Evali]]) left a comment on Sun, 11 Mar 2012 00:54:36 GMT.

<comment date="2012-03-11T00:54:36Z" name="Evali" signature="[[User:Evali|Evali]]">
Oh Rhaelyn, you are such a bitch. I rarely want to hug Taikrin, but ...
</comment>

Logs:Squishy

2012-03-11T00:45:30Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Emme, Hypatia | where = Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr | what = After finding a child's corpse, Emme got drunk. The next day, she nee..."

{{ Log
| who = Emme, Hypatia
| where = Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
| what = After [[Logs:Falling_On_Dead_Bodies|finding a child's corpse]], Emme got drunk. The next day, she needs a hangover cure. Hypatia's a little too curious.
| when = Day 27, month 2, turn 28
| gamedate = 2012.03.10
| quote = It was -squishy-. Like, sinking my hand in to mush or something.
| weather =
| categories = Tillek's Missing Heir
| mentions =
| icons = emmeline.png, hypatia wtf.png
| log =

Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr

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Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients.

About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.

----

Emme is paying little to no attention to who may be on duty when she shuffles in to the Infirmary during the morning. No, because she's squinting against any form of light whatsoever, and is rubbng her temples even as each footfall takes her closer to the counter with the healer on duty. "Please, for the love of Faranth - tell me you have something I can use for this headache." By now, of course, it would have circulated that she was the lucky finder of one waterlogged and squishy dead body. And that upon arriving back, and submerging in hot water until she was a prune, her wingleader helped her get totally toasted. So it's not just -any- headache.

It may have taken up to a few hours, but Hypatia certainly has heard. It helps that one of her best friends is in the same wing, and of course I'han let it slip to her right away that the Tillek heir had possibly been found -- and by none other than their own Emme and Mielline. While the healer did intend to try to track down one of them, likely the less-impressively-ranked brownrider, to ask a few (thousand) questions, she does look surprised when the target of her inquiry just walks right in the next morning. Looking abruptly up from the piece of paper upon which she was noting inventory, Hypatia says brightly, "I'm sure. Do you know how it started?"

Emme scowls, of course, at the chipper voice. "Could you sound less happy please? At least until whatever foul drink I have to take kicks in?" Pleading, even, the brownrider manages to sound appropriately pathetic. "Yes. It started after I lost count of how much I had to drink, and after the room spun around until I spewed my dinner into the weyr bowl, but mostly... after I woke up this morning when the very epitome of evil - sunlight - filtered into my weyr." she describes, making sure to be explicit and thorough. In case there are remedies that work better whether one has lost their food violently or not.

"Oh, yes. Certainly. I will be as drab and dry as the lady desires," Hypatia drawls, sounding entirely displeased with the entire situation. Not because she is, but because Emme asked her to sound less happy and who was she to refuse? "It's not too foul, at least. Sounds like a job for borage and basil. I can mix that up in a couple of minutes; you go ahead and lie down, draw the curtain around and keep yourself in the dark, if it feels better." Borage, also known as starflower, is kind of pasty -- it might take a few minutes to be transformed properly into a /drink/.

Okay, that makes Emme smile just a little. Though it's more of a rueful acknowledgement of Hypatia humoring her then anything really cheerful. "Basil... used in cooking too." she recites, turning a little pale at the thought of food. So she gives -no- argument at all about laying down on a cot, in the dark, so she can whimper a bit more in private. By the time the healer returns, she'll be caught mumbling things to herself. But not really to herself, because she does at least address her currently not-visible friend: Rhazekth.

When Hypatia re-appears with Emme's remedy in a tall, opaque cup -- best not to look too closely at the color of what it's made of -- she is carefully soft-stepping, not making any loud sounds or allowing any excess light in to the quiet, dark whimper-space Emme has created. "Okay," she whispers, kneeling next to the cot and offering the brownrider the cup, which rather reeks of basil. "It's not the most tasty thing in the world, but I can bring you some water once you've got it down quickly."

"By the sea, you've saved me." Emme quips, sitting up so she can take the cup in one hand and pinch her nose with the other prior to gulping down the basilicious remedy to her woes. "Thanks, really. I swear I'll never drink that much again. No matter -what- I'm trying to forget." Solemnly sworn, the brownrider even crosses an 'x' over her heart in as playful a manner as she can imagine, while handing the cup back over and trying not to gag on the aftertaste. Blaaarrrrrrgh!

"Was it really that bad?" Hypatia pries, though she's treading gently as she can because agitating a patient isn't a good idea. Nor is being nosy at a patient. Even if you are actually just a curious teenager -- for all that at eighteen it's hard to claim still being a teenager -- behind it all. Therefore, her voice is soft when she asks, and light, and trying her damndest not to irritate the headache and not to irritate Emme's pscyhe, either. "I mean, I heard about what happened. Sort of. Not the details."

"Are you kidding? It was horrible. And disgusting. And... and gross. And horrible." Emme exclaims, making a face and falling back down against the pillows. "It was -squishy-. Like, sinking my hand in to mush or something. And some of it -clung to my hand-. And augh, I think I touched an eyeball." Weep. "And it was just a little kid. That's the worst." Shiver. Now she's cold again. Just thinking about it!

"Eyeballs," Hypatia explains, sage and calm, "are very squishy, yes. So, I mean, if it seemed outrageously squishy you probably did. Though -- it was in the water? That would make it squishier, considering it's been a long time, and floaters suck up water and all that." She seems to be compartmentalizing the fact it was a child, because it would likely be too hard for her to ask in those circumstances. That, or she really is just that inured to the topic. "I -- suppose I can understand how being around an /unexpected/ corpse is a lot harder than going into a planned autopsy. I wish they'd let us do it, though. Tillek probably won't ever release cause of death." Or, likely, be able to figure it out at all, but she's no interest in dwelling on that.

"Floaters. Is that the technical term for it?" A niggle of dry humor - pun intended - sinks its way into Emme's voice at that. "I can't rightly say I would be looking forward to a planned autopsy either. But maybe I should try thinking it wouldn't be so bad. I mean, if I want to use harpering in a way that would help with ... certain situations." Maybe. Even she sounds skeptical at that. "I have to honestly say I don't know how they can even tell for sure that it's Thedrin. I mean, wouldn't the water damage be enough to obscure it some?"

Hypatia is nodding along as Emme talks, though she can't actually confirm everything she's said. At least she can explain some of it: "Floater's a dead body found in water, yeah. It is about as technical as it gets; I've never heard it called anything else. Though there aren't that many people who like studying that sort of thing." She's lucky she's friends with riders who get her back to the pre-eminent Journeyman Petros. "You are correct there as well, madam brownrider, water makes it harder to identify a body. But I'm sure they know his measurements, since he had to have had clothes, and that's why you measure. Bones. Measuring waterlogged tissue doesn't work too well, but you can always measure bones."

"But, couldn't there have been other children who were of similar size? If all they could use were bones and hair color after all the damage the water had done..." Emme's voice trails off, and she rubs at her forehead again. "It just seems so odd. And I was there when we found the signet ring too. The sailors on -that- ship were smuggling goods, and claimed not to know anything about Thedrin. And they seemed believable. Maybe we shouldn't have taken their word afterall." the girl decides, sounding sad. "Is there anything else you can tell me? Maybe we can make some use of that information. About the bones. I can talk to Mielline - and maybe she can convince someone that we shouldn't stop searching."

"You'd have to actually -- get rid of the flesh to be able to measure the bones," Hypatia points out in a flat, dry sort of way that isn't hiding the fact that even she thinks that sounds unpleasant. Especially on a child. "But bones will always tell you age, if you've got someone who knows how to tell, and if you have measurements you can make fair comparisons. Because of the lack of tissue they won't be exactly the same." Once she's finished with her explanation is when what Emme said /previously/ actually sinks in, and her eyebrows rise at the same time that her eyes actually narrow a little bit. "Smuggling goods? Was the wrecked ship smuggling too? Also, as far as not looking anymore goes -- were there other children of a similar age and size missing? Has anyone confirmed the height of the body? That only changes negligibly in water. The problem is you don't know who else was on the boat so you can't know if it is or isn't him at all without anything else to compare to."

Emme is quite unable to contain her shudder at the thought of that - as well as her imagination feeding her all sorts of lovely images about how that might happen. That 'hrk' sound is totally her and she's not afraid to admit it. "I... I see." she says, finally. "I'm not certain. I found the b-body because I fell through some boards at the top of the stairs and landed in the freezing water on top of it. I couldn't see anything else around me. And when they got my and my wrapped bundle back up through the hole I was taken home. I don't know what else they found. Suppose I should have declined to leave right away." is admitted in a shame-filled voice. "Maybe I can ask some questions and find out about the other things you mentioned. You've been a big help."

Hypatia's eyes only widen more -- I'han had not given her nearly enough detail, and she'd be sure to chastise the greenrider later -- as Emme explains her entire ordeal in clearer detail. "Shells, no. I think you were entirely within your right to step off! Considering you could've died of hypothermia, and all. It's actually probably a good thing you drank so much, though I hope there were warm non-alcoholic drinks involved as well. And a long hot bath, though not right away or anything." Not that she's giving instructions; it happened in the past, after all. "I'm sure somebody knows the answers, anyway. /Are/ you going into law?"

"When I first got back, yeah. I even took the hot tea into the hot baths with me." Emme admits, sounding thoughtful. "All I can do is try to talk to people about it; who wants to listen to just some rider anyway. Certainly Tillek won't want much to do with me. I'll just start with Mielline. She's so nice to us. She'll listen, even if it doesn't go any further then that." Which appears to satisfy the girl's guilt somewhat, with a vague but mor egenuine smile appearing afterwards. "That was the idea. I was rather adamant about it. But people were so... suspicious. And nobody seemed to want my help in that regard anyway. The blooded exiles I mean. But the children seemed to appreciate the one song I wrote. A lullaby for them, to remind us of the island." Now, obviously, she's babbling. "So I thought maybe I would help that way instead. Just... make sure the culture didn't die out completely. And now I'm a rider. And some think riders shouldn't do a craft also. And... er, sorry. This probably all sounds like nonsense."

"Not entirely," Hypatia admits, because maybe she did have to repeat some of it in her head a couple of times to be able to follow everything. "I -- think a lot of the times riders are used in place of the guard that holds have? And so you could always just be doing that. Investigative-type things. Even if you're not actually becoming a crafter. Although I swear there are other riders that participate in crafts, considering it's not like there's Thread and all." As far as the exile politics, these days she's steering clear of it: maybe she feels guilty about her initial discomfort, after starting to consider Iolene a friend. "Riders can write songs, too. I'd ask you to sing for me but I think you're probably still a bit sick?"

"That's an idea." Emme muses, considering the idea of guard-type duties at a smaller hold. But if nothing else she takes to heart the knowledge that the non-exile has about what riders can and cannot do and will keep it in mind for the future. "I'm better then I was, at least. If you've a song you actually want to hear, I might be able to pull it off credibly."

Hypatia shrugs a little, and says, "Give me a rain check, I don't want to overexert you. Headaches are slimy little creatures that vanish and reappear at will, and I don't know if singing won't massively stress you. But some other time, please, I'd love it! /Are/ you feeling any better, by the by? Want that water?" By now, surely, poor Emme has gotten through the entire rancid starflower-basil mess. It might take another half hour to /work/, but maybe the dark is helping?

"Alright then. I will." Emme promises, and then gives a single nod. "The water would be great. Please. Need to get rid of that basil taste. Maybe soon I'll be able to get some food down and be rid of the rest of it." The darkened room has helpd immensely, apparently. "The sun not stabbing into my eye sockets like ice picks helps quite a lot actually. I'm hardy, and bounce back quickly. But this whole hangover thing? I could do without it."

With a tiny laugh, Hypatia says, "I'm not surprised. You're a bold one, too -- I would /never/ drink that, regardless of the hangover!" Just because she makes it for people doesn't mean she has any interest in consuming it, and it's a little secret (but pleased) smile that she's got on her face as she stands up and calls over her shoulder, "Be right back!" soft but definitive. No need to be noisy and make it harder yet again for Emme. In about two minutes, she reappears with a nice tall glass of water and offers that over. "You can rest here the rest of the day, if you want, I doubt anyone will mind. Though I would recommend eating lunch."

"Well, after tasting it... I can't say I blame you for not ever drinking it." Grumble. "It just means I won't consume that much alcohol in one sitting again." Gratitude for the water is evident even before she gulps it down. And perhaps even moreso for the offer to just hibernate in the curtained off cube she finds herself in. "You know, I think I will. At least for the morning." Which means she'll be out like a light again in seconds flat once Hypatia's gone back to her duties.

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Logs:Cold, Wet and White

2012-03-10T22:45:20Z

Evali: Created page with "{{Log | who = Emme, Emme{{!}}Rhazekth, Evali, Evali{{!}}Yanijath | where = Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr | what = Yanijath and Rhazekth confirm that snow is, indeed, fun. | wh..."

{{Log
| who = Emme, Emme{{!}}Rhazekth, Evali, Evali{{!}}Yanijath
| where = Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Yanijath and Rhazekth confirm that snow is, indeed, fun.
| when = Day 12, Month 12, Turn 27 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.02.03
| quote = << How about... snow dragons. >>
| weather =
| categories = Exiles
| mentions =
| icons = emmeline.png, evali scarf.jpg, evali yanijath.png
| log = Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

----

The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north.

Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.

----

"Hey, at least let me get my straps unhooked so I can slide down before you go hopping off into the snow." Emme chides, her voice carrying with the wind as she and her brown make a landing in the bowl between the lake and the entrances to the inner caverns. "It's just snow, silly. White, wet, and cold. We used to hide in a cave when it hit the Island hard." Mental imagery is apparently thrown out there, as she starts to unravel herself. << Someone has to know more about snow then 'cold. wet, and white' >>

Contrary to her clutchmate's desire to instantly inspect, Yanijath has learned to do that thing called "waiting." She will follow this concept of "waiting" just long enough to let Evali properly dismount before she hops away to go inspect this mystery called snow. Whatever the task was the Snowdrift pair were off on, it was nowhere near tiring enough for the little green. Despite her size, she's a bundle of energy. "It has snowed before since they've been alive," Evali says, as she watches the dragons with the tiniest of smiles. "Maybe they forgot." Yanijath doesn't seem sure if she's forgotten, sticking her snout in a collected pile and quipping, << Very cold. It does not feel wet to me though! I think maybe we had this before because Evvy says it happens every single winter and we've seen winter before! >>

Rhazekth is impatient for answers all the way down to the core of his second stomach. So Emme barely makes it off before he happily lurches in the other direction and winds up knocking his rider flat on her rear. To which she sighs, and rolls her eyes. "I know. It's weird how he remembers these vast stores of details. And swear words. But the larger concepts still don't stick." She says this, while pushing herself up to her feet and trying to wipe clumps of snow off of her pants. << Oh, maybe there is different kinds of snow. Wet and sticky, and dry and fluffy'>> is suggested mendaciously, as he curls his talons in to the stuff testingly. << But last winter was so long ago. It is hard to remember that! >>

"Nothing hurt but my pride." Emme assures, making a bit of a face when she tries to glance around behind herself to see if, you know, she looks like she peed herself or something. "Shyeah, real ones! Don't you remember him telling everyone about his favorite one day? Twatwaffle?" he memory prompts her to bit back a bit of laughter, and chew on her lower lip to help her do so. "He's rather fond of 'fuckface' and 'cocksmooch' right now." Sigh. Yeah, she really does sigh. "What kind of phrases does Yanijath make?" Afraid to ask, but compelled nonetheless << It coooould be. >> More comfortable with hot arid desert imagery, he nonetheless conjures a flurry of snowflakes racing around in a whirlwind to show Yani. << By sliding? Yes, we can race by sliding! Let's do it. >>

<< We need to be going fast first, >> Yanijath proclaims, and before anyone has a chance to get any warning -- including innocent passersby in the snow-covered bowl -- she takes off again, swooping high up in the air and shooting downward, landing hard and sliiiiiding long and far thanks to impact velocity. All the while, Evali's been shrieking, "/Yani/! No! Stop th--" but once the green has landed and not actually hit anyone (this time), she lets her shoulders drop and just covers her face with her hand for a second. "Cocksmooch. Charming. She says things like 'balled up' for 'confused'; they're mostly innocuous, but odd. I wonder if I will /ever/ get that tea." Or if she'll be dragonminding forever.

<< How fast? And from what angle? Should we use a thermal and swoop down then... whooooo! Look at you go. >> Rhazekth encourages, bugling as soon as Yanijath makes her debut slide. "He's quite creative with them, really. I think he does it to make me laugh and hide my face though. He's too polite to actually call someone that. So far, at least. Nobody has riled him up too much." Emme is too wide-eyed to shriek, though she does reach out to clutch at Evali's arm with one hand when first tries this new sliding technique. And then Rhaz wiggles his rump and takes off in a replica of the green's pattern. << Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! We have to make Emme and Evali ride us while we're doing this! I wonder what it would be like for them! >> Silence. "No! Absolutely not. I am not crazy!"

"You may not be, but I can assure you Yanijath /is/," Evali replies, all light and cool as if this is something she says every day -- and ridiculous snowflights are something her green does every day. << You can plan, >> Yanijath coos, << I just do things! Evvy would be afraid I think. She does not like it when I dive very, very, very fast toward anything. Even water! That is silly, because you can dive /through/ water! >> Completely not commenting on her dragon's teasing, Evali simply purses her lips and then says, "So. Lunch?"

<< But Emme, it's so fun! >> Rhaz wheedles, bouncing back his pleading tone to Yani so thatr she knows he's trying. Alas, in this it seems his rider is firm. << I am good at planning. And you are obviously good at doing. >> is decided, as if it doesn't take a great deal of hubris to say that. << How about... snow dragons. >> And he demonstrated by flopping down into the snow and fanning out his wings to make impressions in the stuff. See? "Uh... yes! Lunch! Before the decide to just grab us and throw us on board for a rider." is noted dryly. "Bar food, I think. With a nice stiff drink to go with it."

Evali pauses only to add, "Out here with them, once we've gotten it together," just in case. She doesn't seem too comfortable leaving Yanijath behind playing on the ground where innocent passersby could be wounded by the dragon's simple bad-luck aura. The green shuffles close to where Rhazekth is making his snow dragon, and is all mental chirping, bright colors and bubbles. << Oh! You can make shapes in it! Is it like flying upside down? >>

"I have an idea. Why don't I go get the food and drinks. And something to sit on. You stay here and make sure they don't get in to trouble?" Emme offers, taking in the others' apparent discomfort. "I shouldn't be long, unless you feel the need to warm up inside for a few." Bright colors and bubbles do not usually mix will with sand and wind. But, Rhaz is shimmery sparkly sand and small whirlwinds. So their combined thoughts wind up a riot of flinging sparkly brightly hued bubbles. Danger Will Robinson. Danger! << Yes, just like that! Harder to flip back over, however... >> Grunt. Watch brown dragon flail.

If dragons could giggle, Yanijath would be. Instead it's just the mist and backlit colors of her mindvoice, swirling around Rhazekth in the mental representation of sheer amusement. << You are so graceful! >> She can do a lot with sand and wind; make the sand gain color and swirl /through/ the wind, blending with her ethereal mists to create art. << Let's try -- this. >> And she paws hard at some of the snow, flinging it toward the brown's head. Evali just inhales, shaking her head. "I have gloves. I will be fine. Mulled wine would be lovely, if you can grab me one?"

<< My flips could use some work. >> Rhaz agrees, imbuing his mindvoice with the sorrowful call of marsh birds as h contemplates his utter lack of dignity. But as he is so given to balance, his good humor remains evident. Even when a clump of snow smacks right between the headknobs. << Now /that/ is cold/ >> His hide twitches in response, at near the same time that Emme agrees to bring back mulled wine and scurries off. << Hnph. Well, watch this. >> A big brown paw sideswipes more of the fluffy cold stuff, flinging it over Yani's way before he hufs a breath of air at it to send it swirling.

<< It is cold! >> Yanijath is delighted. She is also nearly crushed to death by flying snow, how dare he be so violent -- er. Rather, the tiny-for-an-adult green tries to duck and mostly fails to, only managing to stop a little bit of her face from being hit. Considering the size of Rhazekth's paws, she really had no chance. << It is cold and /there/ is the wet, when it sits on you and stops being fluffy! >> Unable to help herself, Evali is now laughing. Dragon snowball fight? Really?

Rhazekth is obviously smug. Being a larger dragon does have some benefit to it afterall! His amused chuff is accompanied by an attempted slurping of snow off of the green's hide. He will absolutely try to playfully chase her around to lick the snow off, too. << Yep! Yours and mine are both amused. Maybe we should dump snow on -them-. >> Emme is just returning from her trip to get food - all wrapped up in a basket to trap the heat. A bit of tarp and a blanket slung over her other shoulder for sitting on, too. "Don't you -dare-."

Not, of course, that Yanijath the natural flirt is going to /mind/ physical attention. She lashes her icy-cold tail at his ankles, flailing her wings about and taking a bounding leap ahead of the brown in order to shoot back up into the sky, kicking copious amounts of snow behind her as she takes off. << Bad traction! >> she calls behind her, laughter wrapped in silver-glossy tendrils of thread that reach out to tempt Rhazekth to follow. Or stay there and attempt to hurl snow at her while she flies in a circle. Or whichever he'd like to do. << And Evvy has that nice pretty thing around her neck and it's so /nice/ and I would hate to ruin it so she needs to stay dry right now! >> Speaking of Evali, she's settling herself in to sit and eat, legs curled underneath her, gathering up her meal and precious mulled wine. "At least she reached the conclusion I need to stay dry," she says, with another thin, brief pursed-lip smile.

Inherently playful, Rhaz doesn't seem to find the snow in his face or the bald-faced lie. << Traction? Pfft! >> He's not buying that. He does, however, try to trap those glossy silver tendrils in eddies of swirling sand and boost the laughter with the chittering of scarabs that try to nibble up whatever is left of the threads. << Emme would not be impressed if I dumped snow on her now anyway. >> he admits, woefully. "Fortunate. I think Rhaz would go along with whatever she wanted, at the moment. Is she, uhm...?" Proddy? For such a blunt person, the brownrider sure is hedging there.

"Is -- Oh." Evali got there. Pretty quickly, in fact, since she gets asked that a lot now -- when's she going up? She's almost a turn and a half old now! "No, she is always like that. She just -- is that flirting? I suppose it is that she just flirts. I think I would know? She is not any different." Thankfully for Evali, she's right, and Yanijath really is just being Yanijath. Which means, of course, that she is doing funny little rolls in the sky and landing back on the snow-covered bowl in a bellyflop and a slide. << It is like the 'ski' thing that some of the riders do! >>

<< Emme says that she prefers not to break both her legs doing that ski thing. >> Rhazekth relays, with a hint of agreement in his tone for hr carefulness. "She's quite playful. Do dragons actually flirt? I hadn't really thought of that. She just seems... I dunno. I was curious is all." Whatever it is that Emme ordered to eat seems pretty spicy, and her eyes water when she bites into it. Fortunately... ale. That washes it down pretty well.

Evali's food is evidently less tangy, or else she just has vastly different tastebuds than Emme: which, considering their background, is unlikely. "I think she has been described as such before, yes. But this is how she always is. She likes to be chased outside such context." Yes, yes indeed she does; though now, Yanijath seems to have worn herself out just enough that she's curled into a ball and is pushing snow around with her tail. Back and forth. Back and forth. << It looks like a wing. >> She's very proud of her shape! << Sforzath's went skiing with Szadath's and I think they are not broken! >>

<< Sforzath's is better at those kinds of things then Emme though. She's very conscious of her perceived limitations. >> He sounds like a stuffy old scholar when he talks like that, especially laced in mild censure for his riders' apparent esteem in those situations. "Interesting. Have you thought any further about dragonhealing?" is wondered next, as they're on the topic of dragons. << It does! Here wait. Let me draw a wingspar. >> Fortunately, he doesn't ruin the wingshape in doing so.

"I have; I do really want to do it. I am just not sure who to approach." Evali takes another slow sip of her mulled wine, eyes tracing back to the dragons and then returning to Emme. "I do not know if you apprentice, so to speak. I am sure that was why I was tapped for Snowdrift though; it seems like this is the wing that would be the best suited for people interested in crafts. Like -- you." Of course. Yanijath watches Rhazekth draw in the snow with rapt attention, holding her tail up as it continues to lash so she doesn't ruin the design.

"I have a confession to make." Emme decides, when Evali makes a point of mentioning her interest in crafts. "I haven't worked up the nerve yet to ask if I can continue apprenticing. I don't think I could bear it if they said no; it was hard enough to get in the first time around and people seem to think that we can't /do/ both. But I don't want to just be an occasional student. Even though, apparently, that makes me selfish." Her eyes rest fondly on Rhazekth now, as intent as he is on being as detailed as possible with this wing design. << See, there's this curve here, and the talon tip here... >>

Evali appears doubtful; of what, she's decidedly unclear on. "I think Mielline might back you up," she says gently, all her faith in their Wingleader. "You are good at what you do, and we are meant to be the -- unusual wing." Yanijath's tail-swishing slows down, as the green is obviously relaxing to settle in to listen to Rhazekth teach anatomy. << Are you a healer, too? >>

"We are, aren't we. I kind of enjoy that designation. And I'm grateful Mielline has no problems taking us in. Scuttlebutt has it some of the Wingleaders outright refused to take 'exiles'." For once her tone contains no trace of bitterness in it for the fact, but perhaps a trace of pity. "It must be hard to be so afraid of people for no real reason. Take a lot of energy, you know?" She gives an eyroll for good measure and then just smiles at her fellow Islander. << Me? No. But I am good with details.The marks are based on your own wings. I think you will make a good healer though. You will keep your patients cheerful. >>

<< No, Evvy will be a good healer but I wouldn't. I would just play with them! >> Regardless of the fact that's the same thing. Yanijath appears oblivious to it. Evali's head tilts a bit, and she clucks her tongue. "People can be very intolerant. It is still hard for me to like them. But she loves it here so -- I could never leave." A fond look is shot at the pair of snow-fascinated dragons. "They play like weyrlings."

<< And playing with them would keep them cheerful. >> Rhazekth points out, pedantic in this case. "Yes, they can be. We've known that since we got here. But then, some of us are intolerant of the people here too. That makes things even more difficult." A smile of her own appears when she watches the brown and green in the snow; her laugh, fortunately, happening after she's swallowed her drink and not during. "I hope they always do."

"I am not sure if it is a good thing for them to do so," Evali replies, between sips of her blessedly hot drink. "As there are younger dragons here, now; kin of their brother's and kin of theirs as a result." She doesn't actually know that Rielsath is also Cadejoth's dam, even if maybe Yanijath does. "But at least they do look sweet doing so. And she always plays. She thinks nothing is more important than play. I am glad she cannot be a mother." Yanijath hasn't even properly risen yet, and she's over a year and a half old, but the green most certainly does not seem /concerned/. She is far too busy with the snow, and complimenting Rhazekth's intelligence: << That is true. You are wise. But if you are hurt you cannot play right all the time. >>

"Good point." Emme finally agrees, brushing off her hands now that she's done with the crispy tuber strips she'd been eating. "Let's leave them to it for now though, eh? I'm too cold now to stay outside. I need another hot drink. And, we should check in with Mielline to see the duty roster for the upcoming week." Same as she ever was, really. And in being so, the former island harper holds out a hand to help Evali up. Picnic done, it's time, sadly, to be back to working. Even if the dragons play a bit longer.
{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} | }}

}}

<comments />

Hypatia

2012-02-03T23:11:53Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Hypatia.jpg
|name=Hypatia
|position=Apprentice
|craft=Healer
|dragon=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Hadass
|father=Isfauri
|children=
|siblings=Haley (deceased, +9), Ezekiel (+2), younger brother (-3)
|friends=I'han (NPC), Zerenynio
|playedby=Kaya Scodelario
|livejournal=[http://healerbrat.livejournal.com/ healerbrat]}}

== Description ==
Dark brown hair falls in waves past Hypatia's shoulders, framing an angular face marked by slate-blue eyes and an upturned nose. Standing at about five foot six, her slender build and confident stance can make her appear slightly taller; once made entirely of points and sharp edges, she has at last grown into something one might call a womanly figure. She is often found in some form of make-up, dark kohl near-always lining her eyes to add to the illusion of older age.

Her day-to-day clothing is plain and straightforward: a simple white blouse has its sleeves usually rolled up, and is tucked into equally straightforward black trousers.

== WYSK ==
* Born to a High Reaches Hold assistant headwoman and her artist husband, Hypatia is the only girl of four children. Her oldest brother died in the Comet Pass when she was three and she has little to no memory of him, but talks about him and his death in a matter-of-fact way some can find offputting.

* Managed at 14 to get out from under the wing of her overprotective parents to apprentice at Healer Hall; posted to High Reaches Weyr two turns later.

* Hypatia is very opinionated and generally has a sarcastic sense of humor that sometimes tips into the macabre and grisly. Despite this, she's actually a pretty good Healer for all that her interests lie much more in what's wrong with people than the people themselves. People are interesting as people, but as patients, it is the pathology that holds her curiosity.

* Her primary hobby is knitting, and she is often seen during the colder seasons wearing various stocking caps with abnormally long tails.

* Despite her nearly everpresent sarcasm, Hypatia is rather sociable and likes talking to just about anyone.

== History ==
Born and raised at High Reaches Hold, Hypatia is her parents' fourth and last child. She was born only three turns before the start of the Comet Pass, and so her earliest memories are riddled with unexpected Thread and unexpected Threadfalls. Her oldest brother, twelve at the time, died as a result -- but Hypatia barely remembers him now and isn't influenced by it past the overprotectiveness it inspired in her parents. They shadowed her whenever they could, sheltered her past the point of reason. Unable to understand this as a result of grief and not a result of just being obnoxious, Hypatia still resents them.

At age fourteen, Hypatia finally got the chance to leave: she expressed an interest to the hold's posted Healer to become an apprentice. Healing had always interested her, though she'd never had the nerve to speak up about it before, fearing the reaction of her overly-clingy parents. Her living brother, two years her senior, still hadn't been allowed to do anything besides work under his parents.

Thankfully for her, somehow a journeyman at the hold managed to talk her parents, or at least her father, into something a little more reasonable, and Hypatia actually got the beginning steps to a career: she moved to the Healer Hall a month later.

Two turns passed, in which Hypatia became more and more competent, more and more thrilled with her career choice and more and more free from her family. This didn't stop her from /missing/ her family, of course, which was really a shock to her. When the opportunity to move to High Reaches Weyr's new Craft Complex arose shortly after her sixteenth turnday, Hypatia jumped at it with all the enthusiasm of a recently-hatched firelizard on a pile of raw meat.

== Relationships ==

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Healers]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

File:Icon hypatia outrage.jpg

2012-02-03T23:10:59Z

Evali:

File:Icon hypatia smile.png

2012-02-03T23:10:27Z

Evali:

Hypatia

2012-02-03T23:09:56Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Hypatia.jpg
|name=Hypatia
|position=Apprentice
|craft=Healer
|dragon=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Hadass
|father=Isfauri
|children=
|siblings=Haley (deceased, +9), Ezekiel (+2), younger brother (-3)
|friends=I'han (NPC), Zerenynio
|playedby=Kaya Scodelario
|livejournal=[http://healerbrat.livejournal.com/ healerbrat]}}

== Description ==
Dark brown hair falls in waves past Hypatia's shoulders, framing an angular face marked by slate-blue eyes and an upturned nose. Standing at about five foot six, her slender build and confident stance can make her appear slightly taller; once made entirely of points and sharp edges, she has at last grown into something one might call a womanly figure. She is often found in some form of make-up, dark kohl near-always lining her eyes to add to the illusion of older age.

Day-to-day clothing on Hypatia is plain and straightforward: her simple white blouse has its sleeves usually rolled up, and is tucked into equally straightforward black trousers.

== WYSK ==
* Born to a High Reaches Hold assistant headwoman and her artist husband, Hypatia is the only girl of four children. Her oldest brother died in the Comet Pass when she was three and she has little to no memory of him, but talks about him and his death in a matter-of-fact way some can find offputting.

* Managed at 14 to get out from under the wing of her overprotective parents to apprentice at Healer Hall; posted to High Reaches Weyr two turns later.

* Hypatia is very opinionated and generally has a sarcastic sense of humor that sometimes tips into the macabre and grisly. Despite this, she's actually a pretty good Healer for all that her interests lie much more in what's wrong with people than the people themselves. People are interesting as people, but as patients, it is the pathology that holds her curiosity.

* Her primary hobby is knitting, and she is often seen during the colder seasons wearing various stocking caps with abnormally long tails.

* Despite her nearly everpresent sarcasm, Hypatia is rather sociable and likes talking to just about anyone.

== History ==
Born and raised at High Reaches Hold, Hypatia is her parents' fourth and last child. She was born only three turns before the start of the Comet Pass, and so her earliest memories are riddled with unexpected Thread and unexpected Threadfalls. Her oldest brother, twelve at the time, died as a result -- but Hypatia barely remembers him now and isn't influenced by it past the overprotectiveness it inspired in her parents. They shadowed her whenever they could, sheltered her past the point of reason. Unable to understand this as a result of grief and not a result of just being obnoxious, Hypatia still resents them.

At age fourteen, Hypatia finally got the chance to leave: she expressed an interest to the hold's posted Healer to become an apprentice. Healing had always interested her, though she'd never had the nerve to speak up about it before, fearing the reaction of her overly-clingy parents. Her living brother, two years her senior, still hadn't been allowed to do anything besides work under his parents.

Thankfully for her, somehow a journeyman at the hold managed to talk her parents, or at least her father, into something a little more reasonable, and Hypatia actually got the beginning steps to a career: she moved to the Healer Hall a month later.

Two turns passed, in which Hypatia became more and more competent, more and more thrilled with her career choice and more and more free from her family. This didn't stop her from /missing/ her family, of course, which was really a shock to her. When the opportunity to move to High Reaches Weyr's new Craft Complex arose shortly after her sixteenth turnday, Hypatia jumped at it with all the enthusiasm of a recently-hatched firelizard on a pile of raw meat.

== Relationships ==

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Healers]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

File:Icon hypatia wtf.png

2012-02-03T22:55:59Z

Evali:

File:Icon hypatia resting.png

2012-02-03T22:51:52Z

Evali:

File:Icon hypatia questioning.png

2012-02-03T22:51:35Z

Evali:

File:Icon hypatia mischief.png

2012-02-03T22:51:21Z

Evali:

Hypatia

2012-02-03T18:39:16Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Hypatia.jpg
|name=Hypatia
|position=Apprentice
|craft=Healer
|dragon=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Hadass
|father=Isfauri
|children=
|siblings=Haley (deceased, +9), Ezekiel (+2), younger brother (-3)
|friends=I'han (NPC), Zerenynio
|playedby=Kaya Scodelario
|livejournal=[http://healerbrat.livejournal.com/ healerbrat]}}

== Description ==
Eighteen-turn-old Hypatia stands about five foot six, but her slender build and bright slate-blue eyes make her seem slightly taller. Her dark brown hair falls in waves past her shoulders, gently curling to hint at the womanly curves she might, someday, lay claim to -- she is more angular than anything, at this stage. She's often found in some form of make-up, kohl lining her eyes to add to the illusion of older age. Her simple white blouse has its sleeves usually rolled up, and is tucked into equally straightforward black trousers.

== WYSK ==
* Born to a High Reaches Hold assistant headwoman and her artist husband, Hypatia is the only girl of four children. Her oldest brother died in the Comet Pass when she was three and she has little to no memory of him, but talks about him and his death in a matter-of-fact way some can find offputting.

* Managed at 14 to get out from under the wing of her overprotective parents to apprentice at Healer Hall; posted to High Reaches Weyr two turns later.

* Hypatia is very opinionated and generally has a sarcastic sense of humor that sometimes tips into the macabre and grisly. Despite this, she's actually a pretty good Healer for all that her interests lie much more in what's wrong with people than the people themselves. People are interesting as people, but as patients, it is the pathology that holds her curiosity.

* Her primary hobby is knitting, and she is often seen during the colder seasons wearing a fuzzy hat with a tassel that goes all the way down to her knees.

* Despite her nearly everpresent sarcasm, Hypatia is rather sociable and likes talking to just about anyone.

== History ==
Born and raised at High Reaches Hold, Hypatia is her parents' fourth and last child. She was born only three turns before the start of the Comet Pass, and so her earliest memories are riddled with unexpected Thread and unexpected Threadfalls. Her oldest brother, twelve at the time, died as a result -- but Hypatia barely remembers him now and isn't influenced by it past the overprotectiveness it inspired in her parents. They shadowed her whenever they could, sheltered her past the point of reason. Unable to understand this as a result of grief and not a result of just being obnoxious, Hypatia still resents them.

At age fourteen, Hypatia finally got the chance to leave: she expressed an interest to the hold's posted Healer to become an apprentice. Healing had always interested her, though she'd never had the nerve to speak up about it before, fearing the reaction of her overly-clingy parents. Her living brother, two years her senior, still hadn't been allowed to do anything besides work under his parents.

Thankfully for her, somehow a journeyman at the hold managed to talk her parents, or at least her father, into something a little more reasonable, and Hypatia actually got the beginning steps to a career: she moved to the Healer Hall a month later.

Two turns passed, in which Hypatia became more and more competent, more and more thrilled with her career choice and more and more free from her family. This didn't stop her from /missing/ her family, of course, which was really a shock to her. When the opportunity to move to High Reaches Weyr's new Craft Complex arose shortly after her sixteenth turnday, Hypatia jumped at it with all the enthusiasm of a recently-hatched firelizard on a pile of raw meat.

== Relationships ==

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Healers]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:Dragons Are Impossible

2012-01-20T04:47:12Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Riorde, Riorde{{!}}Sforzath, Evali, Evali{{!}}Yanijath | where = Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr | what = Evali and Riorde chat; Sforzath and Yanijath do mor..."

{{ Log
| who = Riorde, Riorde{{!}}Sforzath, Evali, Evali{{!}}Yanijath
| where = Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Evali and Riorde chat; Sforzath and Yanijath do more than that.
| when = Day 26, Month 10, Turn 27 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.01.19
| quote = I might be a little drunk. It's Glacier -- they never stop.
| weather = A layer of patch clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today.
| categories = Exiles
| mentions = Devaki, Emme, Kiami
| icons = evali thoughtful.jpg, evali yanijath.png
| log = It's a nice quiet night for Evali, turning into quite the ideal; she's got a perch on a bench, a good view, a glass of wine, and a book. The book may not have much of anything /in/ it, and she is taking advantage of the parts of the iron bench that aren't occupied by other people to use it as a table. Setting the wine down, she picks up a piece of charcoal and starts to sketch the overhang's climber. Occasionally, she's been speaking aloud to Yanijath, who is visible down in the bowl, coloring hard to miss especially on an otherwise grey backdrop. "No, you cannot have wine. Still. It has not changed in the past ten minutes. Dragons do not drink alcohol. Yes, I do mean that."

"Sforzath tried it." Riorde's troublemaking remark issues from behind, where she's stolen up to greet Evali with a cheeky grin. "Boo." The brunette's just stepped out from the Snowasis, carrying her own drink with her -- a mug though, not a glass, with steam rising from the contents therein. The light off the glows placed outside for the evening colors her cheeks strangely where color's risen: the mixed contribution of the change in temperature, inside-to-out; the flush from hot alcoholic drinks. "Did I get you? Did you hear me?" This seems important to Ri.

"Yes," Evali replies, a mixture of startled surprise and welcoming good cheer all at once. "You win; you probably also want to sit?" Riorde does not apparently need to answer the question, though; Evali has already put the charcoal behind her ear (where a few strands of blonde hair are now more grey), picked up her glass and cleared off enough space for another person to fit. Yanijath, down in the bowl, flexes her wings. Maybe they'll let her come up there and taste it? What's that? Sforzath already did? How unfair!

Dragon> To Sforzath, Yanijath bubbles up and bubbles over in the brown's mind, curiosity overflowing in a mug resembling Evali's view of Riorde's, fuzz and staticky shapes where steam belongs. << What does it taste like? >> she pries, firm and nosy and unashamed about her invasive, pushy questions.

Dragon> From up on his ledge, Sforzath's smoke and incense drift out, shifting in accordance to Yanijath's question. He picks out a remembrance of wine from Riorde's mind (he's forgotten) and offers it up for the green's delectation: dark and heady, velvet-smooth, a burgundy that touches on blood-red. The iron, metallic tang of blood's there, too, Sforzath's little addition. It matches the color after all. << There. Do you like it? >> (Sforzath to Yanijath)

"Good. I haven't lost it." Riorde smiles her satisfaction and, as soon as the space is cleared, drops into the seat alongside Evali. It occurs to her, "Unless you've lost it too." She sighs gustily, a reflection on that possibility, then leans in with little attention to personal space. She's angling for a view of the drawing, putting one arm over the back of the iron bench. "What've you got?"

It's a fairly decent drawing, if also fairly boring; Evali certainly isn't attempting to hide it. "A spicy wine whose name I've forgotten; it pays to be friends with the vintner," she begins to explain, with a tiny smile, entirely tuning out Yanijath's commentary. "Unless you meant the notebook, in which case it is herbalry -- I figured you meant the drink. Speaking of, just how intoxicated are you?" It's not a judgemental statement; it's offered up with a head tilt and a light, friendly expression. She just wants to know.

Dragon> There is still nothing but good cheer and excitement in Yanijath -- but perhaps unfortunately for Sforzath, it has multiplied sevenfold. Everything. Is /wonderful/. Isn't it exciting? Because: << That was /amazing/, >> she gushes, near vibrating with enthusiasm. She flickers out mental images of dancing and flying as if she's confused about how the two are meant to intertwine, if they are at all, but they, too, are things that are amazing, so shouldn't she share? << You get to taste all the good things. Evvy doesn't let me have her drinks. >> (Yanijath to Sforzath)

"I meant the drawing, but the wine's more interesting." Riorde's unapologetic and blunt, bordering on rude but without the intonation that would mark it as intentional. Her chin comes up quickly, and then the brownrider leans back and away from Evali, from her question, looking a bit startled -- if embarrassed. "I'm not. Not very, anyway. I don't think." How much of a judge she is for that, though-- well. "Sorry."

"No need!" Evali is quick to offer reassurance -- and, if anything can be taken from her expression, guilt. "You are not bothering me; I was just wondering. I am /sure/ the wine is more interesting, there is not much going for the drawing. Some of the others are better --" Rather than continuing to speak, she offers out the notebook, switching her headtilt to the other direction. Eventually, she finishes, "If you wanted. There are some grapes, it may count for both."

Dragon> To Yanijath, Sforzath commiserates because, well, it's Yanijath, partner in crime, and even if he can't remember the specifics there's still the feeling of it. Co-conspiracy, a sly sort of pulse at the edge of perception. But /she/ feels it, surely. << Poor you. >> A tease sung out, vowels stretched into sing-song.

Dragon> Yes, poor Yanijath indeed: she plays right into it, though it is obvious she's playing, hamming up the idea of her terrible suffering. << I only get to eat old herdbeasts, I have to sleep outside, >> which is, of course, not true, and surely Sforzath knows it, << she does not put colors on my talons like she does on hers! I am miserable. It is so hard to be me! >> (Yanijath to Sforzath)

When Riorde settles back, taking the notebook, there's a studied way in which she doesn't impinge on Evali's territory and get /too/ close, an unspoken over-consciousness normally absent. She puts the mug between her thighs so there's both hands free to flip the pages, even if it's only out of politeness. "You're good. These are good." She pauses on a picture of some delicately leafy plant that she doesn't recognise, and looks sidelong at her clutchmate, sheepish. "I might be a little drunk. It's Glacier -- they never stop."

Unable to help herself, Evali giggles at that confession -- and then immediately looks half-embarrassed, half-guilty again for her reaction. "Trying to break you in?" she asks, moving fallen hair from her face for the thousandth time that day. "Or is it a wing requirement? To always be drunk. Snowdrift likes that I garden," she adds, as if sitting there and sketching with a glass of wine is doing wing duty. "And I -- suppose? I have a lot of time to practice, now. Not so many chores." And so unlike home, where there was always washing for her, goes unsaid.

Dragon> The beat quickens: a drum, a heart, the throb of blood in the veins. << Poor you. What are you going to do about it? >> The challenge is subtle, lingering around the edges, couched in what sounds like an honest question. (Sforzath to Yanijath)

"A bit of both, I think. It's like that anyway, but there's the whole new girl thing. Does Snowdrift have that?" Riorde balances the notebook on her knee, still on the same picture, and picks up her mug once more. Getting caught out as being not-quite-sober apparently hasn't cowed her enough to forgo the mulled wine. "Yeah," she agrees, head tilting away as she subjects Evali to a thoughtful look. "It's different now. Funny not seeing you lot as much anymore, you know."

Dragon> To Sforzath, Yanijath is mystified; she's caught in Sforzath's rhythm, but has no complaints. << I can do something about it? >> is her first answer, bold statement not considering the fact he is taking her to task. << I complain. And I talk and talk and talk and talk and talk while she works! It gets me oiled, when I do that. >>

"At least nobody lives too far away." Evali's voice is distant for a moment; likely, she's thinking of her brother, and how long it's been since she slept with her head in his lap. It's a memory that never fades, and Yanijath so often asks to meet him -- but she forces it away, and doesn't speak of it. "If you like the drawings, you are always welcome to see the garden. On my ledge. It changes often enough it is really worth multiple visits." There was a question there, and after another sip of wine Evali remembers to answer it. "There is some. Discomfort with new people, discomfort with islanders. But Mielline likes me all right, and I have Emme with me during drills."

Dragon> << Sure. >> Sforzath's breezy answer sweetens his incense to the point that it's almost, almost cloying, leavened with a hint of sandalwood. << You can't just talk. You have to Do. >> No specificity to this ideal of action, just an impulse of motion. Flight's there in the stirring of wind over and under the wings, and again his take on the taste of wine, all thick and hot. << If she doesn't let you, you should take it. >> (Sforzath to Yanijath)

Dragon> To Sforzath, Yanijath is clearly thinking about it; the shared mental image is that of her joining the humans on the ledge, pushing her muzzle into Evali's glass, dipping her tongue in. Inside Yanijath's mind, there is plenty of space for her there, and she should have no trouble drinking from that glass. << You are very wise, Sforzath. I would think you were older than me if I didn't know better! >>

They've been too close, these exiles, not to be attuned to each other's moods. Studying Evali in that moment brings a shadow to Riorde's expression, and she looks away, out to the darkness gathering in the Bowl. "That's good," she says, distant herself before forcing out a smile. "Sure, I'd like that sometime. I saw it when we were all looking, but it's all a blur now, you know? And I bet it's different now that you live there anyway."

Evali nods, gesturing at the picture Riorde's had open. "It looks like that, now? I mean. Not just the one plant. But that is mine." Some of the sadness passes; she's got to smile, what with her pride for the plants, and it almost makes her forget how much she misses Devaki, and how not too long ago she lost a sister. Yanijath, of course, helps, forcing those thoughts out and replacing them with the idea that Evali wants to give her wine. "And dragons are impossible," she adds, with an affectionate sigh.

"Is it?" Riorde looks down at the notebook again with the abstracted air of having nearly forgotten about it. She passes it back, still open with her thumb marking the place. "What?" Her gaze narrows with sudden suspicion and a frown, that despite being turned on Evali with the way Riorde faces, isn't actually directed at her. "Sforzath." The name comes out as a warning, aloud for Evali's sake, as she pays heed to the consciousness she's learned to push to the back of her mind. "He's doing-- something. To Yanijath. Sorry," she apologises a second time; her turn to look guilty. "Weyrlingmasters had a reason to keep them apart, didn't they."

Dragon> To Yanijath, Sforzath quickens with delight, though there's also a small sense of disappointment in the way that the honeyed sweetness falls away. << I know. >> No false modesty. << I have good ideas. >>

"For the safety of the other weyrlings," is Evali's conclusion, there; she's still smiling, and repeats, "No need. To be sorry. She asks for it, and you cannot mind every move he makes or you would go insane." While she seems exasperated, it is only that, and only with Yanijath. "He isn't bothering us; she is only being herself. And she likes him, so she'll be easily influenced. She is just as much trouble on her own, I promise." In the bowl, Yanijath seems to be considering taking off. Stops. Flaps her wings. Stops. "I think she is also figuring out she cannot comfortably fit here."

Dragon> << Yes. >> Yanijath has her own discordant harmony to add to the beat, though it is tempered with the irritation of finding that there is really no way to steal Evali's glass without getting tangled up in furniture. What a pristine disappointment that is. She is grasping at metaphorical threads for a good idea (though, if offered, would happily tug on real ones) and seems to come up with one out of nowhere: << I do too! Like -- we should race. >> Right now. And buzz Evali and Riorde. (Yanijath to Sforzath)

The guilt eases, and she grins back at Evali, though wariness hasn't abated from her expression. "Guess you're right." Riorde takes the out offered, but still looks up in the direction her weyr and Sforzath's ledge lies, playing with the end of a piece of her hair. In the dark and the shadowed glowlight, maybe Evali will miss how she flushes for a second time. "Not without knocking over the tables. Guess it depends on how destructive she's feeling."

"Thankfully," says Evali, after a brief assessment of Yanijath's generally unclear mental state, "not very, at the moment. She seems more interested in flying." There's an awkward beat, as Evali pauses and rephrases, "I mean literally. Not euphemistically. Although I suppose it is not a euphemism so much as simplification, and part of me wishes she /would/ get on with it." While always bright as a dragon can be, Yanijath has still shown no signs of glowing. Now who's flushing? That would be Evali, if not them both.

Dragon> This, Sforzath latches onto with whole-hearted enthusiasm (or nearly; there's still the faintest of disgruntlements lingering on, sulphuric). On his ledge overlooking the queens' weyrs, he spreads his wings and pushes off, dropping quickly before leveling out to soar, and then to pick up speed, and then: << Quick: now! >> A picture of the heights forms the rest of his suggestion. (Sforzath to Yanijath)

"Well, when she's ready," Riorde says diplomatically -- or noncommittally. Her shoulders relax however, and she leans back, resuming the stance she'd settled into when she first sat down on the bench, except that this time it's the other elbow that's propped up on the back, to the far side. "Yeah. The waiting'll get to you. Sforzath hasn't chased anything, except for the time with Rielsath, but that was only because all the others were. Didn't want to be left out. He looks, though, so I keep thinking he'll go up after some green -- and then he doesn't."

Evali opens her mouth -- and that is as far as Evali gets, as Yanijath is definitely meeting Sforzath's challenge. Finished with talking about it, she shoots up from the bowl, circles, and buzzes just as close to over the riders' heads as she can possibly do without crashing into anything. Which, of course, startles Evali right out of being able to speak ... and into spilling the wine she'd just taken a sip of down the front of her white blouse. "/Yanijath!/" she hisses, noisily, but the dragon is already gone before she can even hear her rider's admonition -- shooting like a dart after Sforzath. She'll talk later, she has to catch up! "Well," Evali sighs. "I think I have to go change."

Riorde flinches, ducking her head and looking up as Yanijath passes close overhead. Her drink sloshes too, but it's back between her knees and her trousers are already stained from oil. "Shit. /Sforzath!/" She's louder than Evali was, blaming her own dragon even though he's left the buzzing to the green and is instead intending on a flight that cuts close around and through the Spires, testing them both. "Yeah. Okay. See you later, yeah?"

"Come by sometime, see the plants," Evali offers, despite having no clue of Riorde's actual interest in plants -- she just likes having company. "Hopefully we won't end up with another surprise race, or at least it'll be a little less dangerous." Despite the situation, Evali does seem amused by the dragons' antics. A little. She stands, giving Riorde another smile and a tiny wave, and then it's off into the bar to hand over the empty glass and to the greenhouse where she's left an extra jacket. Someday, Yanijath might even come back to take her to their weyr.

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Hypatia

2012-01-19T07:37:32Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Hypatia.jpg
|name=Hypatia
|position=Apprentice
|craft=Healer
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Hadass
|father=Isfauri
|siblings=Haley (deceased, +9), Ezekiel (+2), younger brother (-3)
|friends=I'han (NPC), best friend
|playedby=Kaya Scodelario
|livejournal=[http://healerbrat.livejournal.com/ healerbrat]}}

== Description ==
Eighteen-turn-old Hypatia stands about five foot six, but her slender build and bright slate-blue eyes make her seem slightly taller. Her dark brown hair falls in waves past her shoulders, gently curling to hint at the womanly curves she might, someday, lay claim to -- she is more angular than anything, at this stage. She's often found in some form of make-up, kohl lining her eyes to add to the illusion of older age. Her simple white blouse has its sleeves usually rolled up, and is tucked into equally straightforward black trousers.

== WYSK ==
* Born to a High Reaches Hold assistant headwoman and her artist husband, Hypatia is the only girl of four children. Her oldest brother died in the Comet Pass when she was three and she has little to no memory of him, but talks about him and his death in a matter-of-fact way some can find offputting.

* Managed at 14 to get out from under the wing of her overprotective parents to apprentice at Healer Hall; posted to High Reaches Weyr two turns later.

* Hypatia is very opinionated and generally has a sarcastic sense of humor that sometimes tips into the macabre and grisly. Despite this, she's actually a pretty good Healer for all that her interests lie much more in what's wrong with people than the people themselves. People are interesting as people, but as patients, it is the pathology that holds her curiosity.

* Her primary hobby is knitting, and she is often seen during the colder seasons wearing a fuzzy hat with a tassel that goes all the way down to her knees.

* Despite her nearly everpresent sarcasm, Hypatia is rather sociable and likes talking to just about anyone.

== History ==
Born and raised at High Reaches Hold, Hypatia is her parents' fourth and last child. She was born only three turns before the start of the Comet Pass, and so her earliest memories are riddled with unexpected Thread and unexpected Threadfalls. Her oldest brother, twelve at the time, died as a result -- but Hypatia barely remembers him now and isn't influenced by it past the overprotectiveness it inspired in her parents. They shadowed her whenever they could, sheltered her past the point of reason. Unable to understand this as a result of grief and not a result of just being obnoxious, Hypatia still resents them.

At age fourteen, Hypatia finally got the chance to leave: she expressed an interest to the hold's posted Healer to become an apprentice. Healing had always interested her, though she'd never had the nerve to speak up about it before, fearing the reaction of her overly-clingy parents. Her living brother, two years her senior, still hadn't been allowed to do anything besides work under his parents.

Thankfully for her, somehow a journeyman at the hold managed to talk her parents, or at least her father, into something a little more reasonable, and Hypatia actually got the beginning steps to a career: she moved to the Healer Hall a month later.

Two turns passed, in which Hypatia became more and more competent, more and more thrilled with her career choice and more and more free from her family. This didn't stop her from /missing/ her family, of course, which was really a shock to her. When the opportunity to move to High Reaches Weyr's new Craft Complex arose shortly after her sixteenth turnday, Hypatia jumped at it with all the enthusiasm of a recently-hatched firelizard on a pile of raw meat.

== Relationships ==

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Healers]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Hypatia

2012-01-19T07:37:12Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Hypatia.jpg
|name=Hypatia
|position=Apprentice
|dragon=N/A
|craft=Healer
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Hadass
|father=Isfauri
|siblings=Haley (deceased, +9), Ezekiel (+2), younger brother (-3)
|children=None
|friends=I'han (NPC), best friend
|playedby=Kaya Scodelario
|livejournal=[http://healerbrat.livejournal.com/ healerbrat]}}

== Description ==
Eighteen-turn-old Hypatia stands about five foot six, but her slender build and bright slate-blue eyes make her seem slightly taller. Her dark brown hair falls in waves past her shoulders, gently curling to hint at the womanly curves she might, someday, lay claim to -- she is more angular than anything, at this stage. She's often found in some form of make-up, kohl lining her eyes to add to the illusion of older age. Her simple white blouse has its sleeves usually rolled up, and is tucked into equally straightforward black trousers.

== WYSK ==
* Born to a High Reaches Hold assistant headwoman and her artist husband, Hypatia is the only girl of four children. Her oldest brother died in the Comet Pass when she was three and she has little to no memory of him, but talks about him and his death in a matter-of-fact way some can find offputting.

* Managed at 14 to get out from under the wing of her overprotective parents to apprentice at Healer Hall; posted to High Reaches Weyr two turns later.

* Hypatia is very opinionated and generally has a sarcastic sense of humor that sometimes tips into the macabre and grisly. Despite this, she's actually a pretty good Healer for all that her interests lie much more in what's wrong with people than the people themselves. People are interesting as people, but as patients, it is the pathology that holds her curiosity.

* Her primary hobby is knitting, and she is often seen during the colder seasons wearing a fuzzy hat with a tassel that goes all the way down to her knees.

* Despite her nearly everpresent sarcasm, Hypatia is rather sociable and likes talking to just about anyone.

== History ==
Born and raised at High Reaches Hold, Hypatia is her parents' fourth and last child. She was born only three turns before the start of the Comet Pass, and so her earliest memories are riddled with unexpected Thread and unexpected Threadfalls. Her oldest brother, twelve at the time, died as a result -- but Hypatia barely remembers him now and isn't influenced by it past the overprotectiveness it inspired in her parents. They shadowed her whenever they could, sheltered her past the point of reason. Unable to understand this as a result of grief and not a result of just being obnoxious, Hypatia still resents them.

At age fourteen, Hypatia finally got the chance to leave: she expressed an interest to the hold's posted Healer to become an apprentice. Healing had always interested her, though she'd never had the nerve to speak up about it before, fearing the reaction of her overly-clingy parents. Her living brother, two years her senior, still hadn't been allowed to do anything besides work under his parents.

Thankfully for her, somehow a journeyman at the hold managed to talk her parents, or at least her father, into something a little more reasonable, and Hypatia actually got the beginning steps to a career: she moved to the Healer Hall a month later.

Two turns passed, in which Hypatia became more and more competent, more and more thrilled with her career choice and more and more free from her family. This didn't stop her from /missing/ her family, of course, which was really a shock to her. When the opportunity to move to High Reaches Weyr's new Craft Complex arose shortly after her sixteenth turnday, Hypatia jumped at it with all the enthusiasm of a recently-hatched firelizard on a pile of raw meat.

== Relationships ==

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Healers]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

File:Icon hypatia peevish.png

2012-01-19T04:36:29Z

Evali:

Logs:Just One Answer

2012-01-19T04:35:46Z

Evali: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Hypatia | where = Healer Hall | what = A long time ago, Hypatia asked a question. Someone finally got around to answering it. | when = Day 20, Month 10, Turn 27 of..."

{{ Log
| who = Hypatia
| where = Healer Hall
| what = A long time ago, Hypatia asked a question. Someone finally got around to answering it.
| when = Day 20, Month 10, Turn 27 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2012.01.18
| quote = But after so long, what difference could it truly make?
| weather =
| categories = Exiles, Vignette
| mentions = Iolene
| icons = hypatia peevish.png
| log = "Do you know it's been almost an ''entire turn'' since I asked for this information?" Hypatia demanded as she sat down at the senior journeyman's desk, looking nothing if not incredibly peeved. While she had herself mostly in control -- entire body tensed so as not to snap even more -- it was just as obvious she was having some considerable trouble actually keeping that control. Hypatia never had much of a temper, but she was also never one to keep her feelings to herself.

And it had been a very long time since she'd sent that letter with the request of what she wanted. It had been so long that no one was likely to even remember. The death itself (as no one at the Hall referred to the event as a ''murder'') was so long ago it didn't really matter to anyone anymore.

For a long time, the exiles hadn't mattered a smidge to ''her'', either; it was the fact that one of them was killed right on what felt like her turf, no matter how short a time she'd been there, that made all the difference. Months later, their goldrider -- High Reaches' goldrider, too, she had to remind herself, for no matter how unusual it was Ysavaeth ''was'' Iovniath's daughter -- had asked her about it. Actually asked ''her'', an apprentice, like she knew.

Funny thing was, she knew just enough to know who to ask, but her former mentor had definitely let her down. And Hypatia wasn't about to just let him get away with it.

Petros, on the other hand, was smiling thinly, unsurprised by her reaction entirely. He'd known her long enough; he wasn't her initial sponsor, wasn't the one who had taken her under his wing at the Hold, but he knew her. They had similar interests, though his took to generally even more morbid than hers. If an autopsy was done anywhere on Pern, odds are Petros had some involvement with it. He at least saw a report.

Which meant he'd known what she wanted all along.

Or at least that's how Hypatia saw it.

"I did compile it for you," he pointed out, smiling at her thinly and not bothering to sit down. He stood behind his desk; she remained flopped in the visitors' chair on the other side of it and drummed her fingers on the table. "It took some time, yes. But that was because I had to dig through a lot of old --"

"If you had written it up in the first place, it wouldn't have been so old!"

"Do you have ''any'' respect for your superiors?" Petros snapped, and Hypatia drooped a bit. The answer, of course, was that she did, but in moments where she thought they were wrong, could she really hide it? The only appropriate answer, though, was a meek:

"Often."

That, at least, got Petros to laugh. "It took time, Hypatia, because these things take time. Especially things that are considered -- largely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Yes, there was a murder in your Weyrleader's weyr, but there was never any clear determination on who did it or why or why the victim was even ''there'', and further information wasn't really pressed for through the right channels at any point. I didn't perform the autopsy. Someone did, but it wasn't me, all I could do was read it over and make conclusions from there, and there are only two conclusions I can really properly make."

"And it took you," Hypatia said in a low, even tone that made it ''very'' clear she was trying not to snap, "almost a ''turn'' to make ''two conclusions''?"

"I have a lot of other things to do. And I think you do know the systems involved in figuring this sort of stuff out," Petros showed his lack of interest in formal language there, "it includes volunteers, and models, and ''time''. And money. Doing a favor for an apprentice, even if she is also a friend, is sort of bottom of the barrel."

"I know. But --"

"But nothing. Do you want your answer?"

She said nothing, just stared straight at him, one eyebrow just slightly raised upwards.

"Your assailant," instead of ''killer'', of course, this was Petros, "was definitely taller. We're assuming male based on -- well, based on everything, there's absolutely nothing female about this. Except possibly the hair, but that would still be extrapolating and I don't know much because it was, again, not my work." He paused for a second, and added awkwardly, "The autopsy. Not the murder. Though I don't think I'm tall enough to fit the conclusion anyway, and you know I wasn't even there -- ''anyway.'' We can also assume dominant hand based on the wound tract not being a gigantic mess of itself, although mind you I never ''saw'' the wound. I'm working with sketches, here, Paysh, and that's not exactly an art."

"Yes it is," Hypatia pointed out, unable to resist a tiny laugh -- it got Petros grinning, too. Point to her.

"Okay. You're right. Sketching is an art. I mean it's not exact. I never saw the body. But," he said, and pulled a folded piece of paper from, of all places, his ''pocket'', "here, anyway, is your report."

It was a creased, messy paper, but it did hold everything she needed to know.

The question Hypatia had to ask herself, though, was: ''why''?

What difference would knowing this make to ''her'' life? Would those who had wanted to know back then still care now? She had promised to try, but made it clear it might not work. She'd known who to ask. He ''had'' come through -- but after so long, what difference could it truly make? And what difference did it ''ever'' make to her?

"Thanks, Petros."

Still with more questions than answers, Hypatia returned to the Weyr.

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<comments />

Logs talk:The Search For Thedrin

2012-01-04T17:43:46Z

Evali: Comment provided by Evali - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:The Search For Thedrin]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Evali/Comments|Evali]] ([[User:Evali|Evali]]) left a comment on Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:43:46 GMT.

<comment date="2012-01-04T17:43:46Z" name="Evali" signature="[[User:Evali|Evali]]">
This log is really, really awesome, guys.
</comment>

Logs:Iovniath's Consent

2011-12-16T16:44:35Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Evali, Tiriana
| where = Records Room
| what = Evali asks to stand.
| when = Day 13, month 6, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.09
| quote = One of /those/.
| weather =
| categories = Exiles
| mentions =
| icons = evali watchful.jpg, tiriana.png
| log = The weeks leading up to a hatching are always busy-busy-busy, and today is no exception. Tiriana's going over stores lists one more time, eyeing the beastcrafter who's brought the Weyr some extra stock to prepare for the new mouths. "Fine. It's done, then. The headwoman'll pay you," she tells him after she signs off on the order and sends him on his way.

Nervous, to the point where one of her hands is visibly trembling, Evali hovers in the doorway; she and the beastcrafter nearly but not quite touch shoulders as he departs and she takes just one step closer, summoning up the last of her boldness in order to have this conversation at last. Inhaling deeply, she knocks on the wall, not willing to verbally interrupt the Weyrwoman. Or anyone, really, but /especially/ the Weyrwoman.

Tiriana, aware of someone's presence, doesn't really think about it before she starts rattling off her orders. "Is that the stores report? Let's see it and--" She breaks off, looking around when the person doesn't approach quickly enough; and finding Evali there instead of the assistant she expected, the Weyrwoman frowns. "What do you want?"

"I," says Evali, and her boldness drops off for about a second; she looks a little bit frozen in terror. Clearing her throat, she balls her fists and collects her confidence again -- an obvious process. "Wished to ask your consent, ma'am -- well." Breath. In, out: "More I wished to ask /Iovniath's/ consent to stand for her hatching. To see if she thought I would be a fit match for one of her children. It seemed -- sad, to me, that few consider the mother's thoughts on the matter."

Tiriana's brows furrow all up at the request, and she regards Evali with some combination of bemusement and suspicion. "You're a brave one," she finally decides, with a sniff. "Most people find it smarter to go kiss some searchrider's ass. Who are you, again?"

Evali stands stock still, not actually having collected enough latent bravery to actually look Tiriana in the /eye/. Oh, but she's trying -- this is just the nerve Evali has left. No one is, at present, giving birth. "Evali, Weyrwoman," she replies evenly, forcing her voice not to shake. She is Blood. She is strong. Really. "From the island, ma'am. The midwife. I am -- granddaughter of one of the elders."

"One of /those/," says Tiriana. This is not a compliment. Her eyes narrow a little more as she regards the younger girl, looking her up and down before she nods toward one of the chairs opposite her at the table. "Just why should I let another one of you on my sands?"

Good question. It's a good thing Evali wasn't expecting to be liked, or she would probably be disappointed here. Unfortunately, she does not seem to have thought as far ahead as making an argument in her own favor. "I am not," she manages, gently, "like a lot of the others, ma'am. I do not wish to cause your home any distress. I do not -- yell," she adds, recalling the chaos around the damaged egg. "I have no desire to upset the structure of this world. I do not want to claim land in my name; simply to fit in. I make no fusses around myself." She hesitates, then adds, more softly, "I also actually thought to request their mother's consent, unlike the others."

"So why ask," is the Weyrwoman's counter. She pushes away the lingering work in front of her, so she can lean back in her chair and continue making teenagers uncomfortable. "If you just want to put her head down and get on with your life. Why not do just that? Avoid me, Iovniath, this whole thing."

"Because I do not know," Evali counters, attempting to pull herself up to her full height and not cower behind her hair, "what it is that my life /is/, anymore. Perhaps my future is one of your Iovniath's children, after all, and I would hate to miss the chance if I had it."

Another moment, and then Tiriana seems to find something a little more--satisfactory in Evali's demeanor. She nods once, and shrugs too, lest that seem too agreeable. "Suit yourself, then," she answers. "They'll bring robes by for everyone to select from. And you're already in the barracks, so."

Evali doesn't droop, as that would be entirely counterintuitive; but she does /relax/, having not even seemed all that tense, externally or otherwise (as even mentally, her awareness wasn't really on it). There is a faint hint of a smile that grows, slowly, into a more genuine one. "I -- thank you, Weyrwoman," she says, and moves to turn around. "I will be out of your way, now."

A nod, and Tiriana's already turning back to the work that still needs preparing. "Good," she tells Evali, only a little distractedly. And, an afterthought: "Good luck."

"Thank you, ma'am," Evali calls, halfway over her shoulder, as she turns to the door -- and to track down brother or grandfather to tell them the news. "For both the welcome," if you could call it that, "and the luck." And then she is gone.

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Logs:Education

2011-12-16T16:40:54Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Elgin, Emmeline, Evali, Nathalia
| where = Snowasis
| what = Drinks. Herbalry. Candidates.
| when = Day 8, month 5, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.07.29
| quote = I think I'm glad that I don't question the wisdom of the healers.
| weather =
| categories = Exiles
| mentions = Rhaelyn
| icons = e'gin.png, emmeline.png, evali curlies.jpg, nathalia.jpg
| log =
The Snowasis probably wasn't the best pick for a place to go sit to /study/, but despite the clamor and noise Evali has found a nook to settle into and read a book of herbalry. She is making notes in one of her Turnday gifts (a notebook) and tentatively putting her fingers to the other every now and then (she wears a leather strip around her neck with a small island shell on it). A glass of wine sits on the table in front of her books, barely touched but clearly having had a sip or two taken from it.

Emme is clearly celebrating something or other, since when she rounds the corner to see Evali seated at a booth, she too has a glass of wine in hand. Hey, all she heard was - don't get drunk. Nobody said candidates can't drink at all... right? Ahem. "Hey, Evali!" Yep, she slides in opposite the island's midwife with a smile in place. "What've you got there?" she tips her head towards the herbalry book in question.

Rather disheveled looking, Nat makes her way to what has slowly become her favorite place in all of high reaches, the bar. Fortunately it seems the usual barkeep is busy so she is able to grab a bottle and a glass before spotting the two Islanders. "Mind if I join you ladies?" She asks, looking about the rather full cavern.

Up go Evali's eyes, first, from the book; followed slowly by the rest of her head, lifted so that she's now facing Emmeline instead of simply peering through eyelashes at her. And then there's Nathalia right on her tail. Evali tenses a little bit -- there are suddenly people everywhere -- but manages to let out, calmly, "Herbalry. And no. Please have a seat," before breathing and turning to the glorious wine to take a sip.

"Don't worry. S'just me." Emme assures.... just before it isn't just her anymore! And there's a vaguely apologetic smile on the harper's lips then, meant for her shy friend. "Herbalry. Have you found anything interesting? Or, like, different herbs that are used for some of the things we couldn't deal with back h.. on the Island?" she wonders, nodding a greeting to Nathalia just before she sips from her own glass. "Hey there."

Nat slips into a seat with a friendly smile. "I swear I don't bite. . ." She offers the girl brightly. "Though I think that's more words in a breath I have heard out of you since we met." Emmeline gets a bright and friendly smile too, before she too seems interested in the notebook. "Herbalry, sound fascinating."

It may also be the most words that Evali ever says in one breath. As she is not continuing to elucidate so much as just nod -- a nod of 'yes' for Emmeline and a nod of 'it is' for Nathalia, and another sip of her wine. Evali is still not forthcoming, though she is at least /smiling/ at them.

"Welllll, give me an example." Emmeline prompts, knowing full well that it takes a proverbial crowbar to get Evali to open up. So she employs a smile as well, and kind of raises her glass as if in toast. "I'll share some news with you, if you share with me." Who can resist that, right? Nathalia's good natured joking earns a chuckle. Maybe she's already had a full glass of her own, eh? "Evali was our midwife on the Island, if she hasn't already mentioned it."

There is a rather long stretch and the rather messy looking candidate pours herself a glass from the pilfered bottle taking a long sip of the dark amber rum as she listens to Emmeline prompt the girl, and there is a smile for the harper. "No she didn't." There's a big grin now from the smith. "So you were the one responsible for looking after the little ones health then huh?"

No. She didn't. Evali never says much, but more and more, people are figuring out how to draw her out -- they're all sitting at a corner table, everyone with a drink and Evali with books. "More the mothers," she says softly, and then reads an entry from the book, "Adonis is a flowering plant that grows primarily in spring. The plant itself is toxic, but mixing the seeds into a tea helps with chest pain."

Elgin strolls in the bowl, coming in behind Nathalia he claps her on the shoulder in a rough friendly gesture, "Imagine finding you here." He grins as the girl as he slides into a seat, a smile goes to the other females, "Emmeline, Evali..." He eyes the group as they speak about birth and woman things, "Looks like I might be in for a little education today, eh?"

"It can be poisonous, but the seeds... hmm. I think I'm glad that I don't question the wisdom of the healers. If I'm told to drink it, I do. Don't think I'd be so brave if I knew some of it could be poisonous though!" Emme admits, toying with her glass when Elgin appears at the table to join them. "If you want, we can start discussing childbirth." she jokes, lips quirked up into a wry smile. "But I think you're pretty safe."

She smiles. "I imagine they need more looking after than the kids sometimes," She offers on the topic of mothers. And listens thoughtfully to the lesson. The clap on the shoulder though nearly makes her spill her precious drink and she offers the male a rough grin. "Probably the best place to find me any given day." Not that it said much for her character but its truth. As Emme speaks up the girl nods, "I'd rather leave the mess of flowers and plants to the healers, they seem to really know their stuff." There is a bit of a grimace at the thought of discussing child birth but the smith doesn't feel the need to say anything about it.

Evali shakes her head a little at Elgin. "I am not teaching," she confides. As of course, right now, she is learning. The others are merely learning /with/ her, now, as she's started to read aloud. She has, just as quickly, stopped and gone back to listening to the others and their discourse.

"Well don't let any riders catch you here and not doing chores, they don't seem to like seeing candidates with free time." Elgin chuckles, though in retrospect it is probably a good idea. Emmeline is given a charming grin, "If that is what the ladies would like to speak about then by all means, who am I to say no to such lovely women, especially one the matters of life?" Someone is having a good day, or more likely has been up to no good. "I was only kidding Evali." The boy says with a twinkling smile, "What have you been up to?"

"That's why we're in a booth." Emme whispers sotto voice, when the matter of riders and chores and candidates with free time is brought up. "I'd have to agree with you there, Nat." Elgin's rejoinder, however, just has her raising an eyebrow. "My, aren't youy in a charming mood this afternoon. What have *you* been up to?" she wonders, before glancing over at Evali again. "Have you found any other herbs in there I might find useful?" It may be that only the former midwife is going to have a clue what the harper is talking about there.

"Oh I don't think you have to worry about most the riders. . . on that, and it isn't like anyone here is shirking their duties." Nat offers though in truth, she still hasn't been to the nursery today. She too notices the rather. . . flamboyant? Mood the Islander males seems to be in and there's a bit of a wicked grin that crooks its way across her lips. "What Indeed." If Emme didn't pry it out, Nat was going to.

"I am not a candidate," Evali elucidates. She is the only one here who isn't, perhaps, but she is not a candidate. And so she can do whatever she wants! She is sort of an apprentice healer, but for now, wears no knot and gives no rank. She is watching Elgin for an answer, now, but does not pry herself. Emmeline gets the quickest hidden nod.

Elgin shifts in his seat and shakes his head waggling his finger at the ladies, "No, you see we have to do extra chores if they tell us. I told a rider I was almost done with my chores, because I had gotten up early to start them so I could have the night off and they told me they extra stuff for me to do in that case." There is a nod to Evali about her assessment of the positions at the table. "The rest of us are though..." He slides down in his seat as he is interrogated by the women about his mood, even Evali's watching is interperted as suspecting, "Oh, you know. Just talking to a friend." Not plotting certainly, and not with a specific friend, a quick sly glance is given to Nathalia and he can't stop the grin from briefly crossing his face. He quickly switches to the next topic at hand, "Herbs? Useful for what? Childbirth?"

"Which reminds me I need to go check on whether there's more messages to deliver soon. But I really needed a break." Talk of extra chores prompts that confession from Emmeline, though her attention is caught by Evali's nod. And even despite her cheerful mood, there's a near visible release of tension in her shoulders there. "Good." she breathes, pretty much downing the rest of her glass in one shot there. "I am certainly not pregnant, so no on the childbirth Elgin." she replies. "But maybe you should elaborate on your plotting?"

There is nothing but a wicked grin for the boys reply. Apparently she had a lot more skill in dealing with riders than he did. Well if the mornings activities were anything to go on. "Mm, well I must have /far/ better luck than you do." If her current win streak was any indication. There is a knowing nod for Emmeline, and a sympathetic smile. "Don't run yourself ragged now," And Evali gets a smile. That sly look though, she doesn't know what to make of it at first, so instead it seems she will have to rely on Emme to pry it out of the boy.

Evali is, thankfully, not expected to talk anyway, so she needn't comment on the confidentiality of what she and Emmeline speak of being, well, confidential. Offered smiles are, however, always returned, and she takes another hesitant sip of the wine.

Elgin crosses his arms and props himself up against his elbows on the table, a glance runs back and forth between Evali and Emmeline, before he answers Emmeline, "Plotting?" He brows draw together but he smiles, "No plotting, just hanging out with Rhaelyn." He glances between the two women again and then turns to Nathalia, "You do seem to be here an awful lot? How do you pull that off?"

Emmeline has successfully steered the topic of conversation well away from where she didn't want it to go, and thus considers the day a success! "I'll sure try, Nat." she mumbles wryly, and just gives Elgin a playful wink before she stands up to leave. "I'll try to find you later, Eva. Ok? Plus I still have news to share!" And with that, the harper all but dashes out to go check on those messages.

Down the hatch with the rest of the drink, there's a crooked smile on the smith crafter's lips, Rhaelyn. The name causes the faintest hint of a frown in her eyes, but it does not reach the rest of her features. She offers a friendly wave as Emmeline darts off, pouring herself another drink from that bottle. Evali is given a thoughtful look though, before Elgin seems to demand she spill her secrets. "I have my methods, Smith Crafter Code, Work hard, Drink harder!" she offers with a sly look of her own. Today though she just managed not to be in the barracks to receive her assignment.

Evali's eyebrows meet her hairline as Nathalia speaks. "Are you not," she says evenly, "meant to always have chores as a candidate?" Emmeline gets a wave, and the silent promise to meet her later simply hangs in the air.

It is Elgin's turn to raise an eyebrow at the smith-turned-candidate, "We are meant to always have chores." He answers Evali without taking his eyes of Nathalia, "And it is for a reason." Why the sudden change in mood in the male isn't answered. Elgin eyes the wave and then turns his head to watch after Emmeline, "Evali." The female receives a nod as the boy stands, "Nat." He looks back at the smith, "I should go. Have to get back to my chores." And with that he is off.

Nat shrugs, "I do my chores, and usually I ask for a lot of extra. It's just kind of gotten to the point where now when I show up at the headwoman's office she kinda chases me off." Once with a broom, but she wasn't willing to admit that. "Chores are supposed to keep you out of trouble usually, but not the most effective method." The expression change is regarded with curiosity. But she makes no move to follow him. Instead she offers a wave. Turning her attention to Evali. "Can I ask you a question?" She asks somewhat sheepish. "Confidentially?"

Evali does not brighten, because that would be a /horrible/ thing to do -- but she does seem to relax a little bit. "Of course," she says evenly, setting her wine aside and closing the textbook; the notebook remains open.

"Do you know any herbs for preventing pregnancy?" The words are whispered almost and there's a very sheepish look on the woman's face as she takes a long gulp from her glass.

Appearing surprised, but not letting any other internal bias show, Evali nods. She tears a corner of paper off her book and begins to write things down: a description of something called 'lovage,' and a drawing. The paper is passed silently over to Nathalia.

Nat tucks the paper away a greatfull smile on her lips. "Thanks, I uh. . . well probably won't need it . . ." Still something from earlier in the day weighed on her thoughts. "Um please don't tell anyone, especially Rhaelyn or Elgin." She pleads, "I know Islanders think a lot differently on that matter."

"I would not," Evali promises, firm and stoic, "tell anyone. Ever." Another quick flash of a smile. "My personal judgment does not keep me from helping those who disagree with what I may think is appropriate."

Relief floods the smith's face at the response. "I appreciate it. I know it probably isn't appropriate but . . ." there's something warm in that expression. "It's just nice to feel wanted by someone." She admits, finally thinking on that warmth. "But I want to stand, and If things get carried away, I don't want anyone getting hurt."

Evali continues to nod, smile thinning out -- but it's still there. She is trying. "What is appropriate to you is not my concern or my right to speak on. It is best to try not becoming pregnant in your current station, though, I think. Merely do not rule it out forever, that is what I ask of you."

Nat smiles back, its warm and genuine though. "No not forever, Some day I do want little ones." When she's older, when she's ready, when the right person comes along. These things all seem implied. "Thank you, I uh. . . really should head down to the nursery." The smith stands and leaves, but not before giving the girl another genuine smile of appreciation.

Evali nods -- that's all she's got! except maybe for another hesitant bit of smile -- as the smith apprentice departs, and goes promptly back to her book.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} | }}

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<cshow Logged="1" InGroup="user" ><comments /></cshow>

Evali

2011-12-12T21:55:17Z

Evali:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Evali.jpg
|name=Evali
|position=Snowdrift Wingrider
|dragon=green [http://www.hrweyr.net/hatch/clutch32/yanijath/ Yanijath]
|craft=Healer (dubiously)
|birthplace=The Island
|mother=deceased
|father=deceased
|siblings=brother [[Devaki]] (+3) <br> sister Kiami (deceased, -2) <br> half-sister [[Iolene]] (-3)
|children=None
|friends=grandfather Viremi
|playedby=Lesly Masson
|livejournal=[http://evali-nc.livejournal.com/ evali_nc]}}

==Prologue==
:<small>Evali's prologue is a continuation of Devaki's.</small>
Eventually, though, he had to marry. Mindhealer or not, very clear on the dangers of inbreeding or not, it was the right thing to do for Dinami, brother of Henret, to marry ... and it was complicated by falling in love. Love, which made one mad, and yet it was this woman who kept him sanest. Another minor Lord's daughter's daughter. A woman who wanted nothing more than to continue her own work as an archivist. They bonded. They wed.

Evelti hadn't known anything about what was going on. She'd just been a child. She wasn't involved. She created false archives to give herself peace, making lists and writing down stories.

One day, she met a man who wanted every name traced. Wanted the lineages kept tracked. Wanted her to do that. She found, with some great surprise, that that man made her very happy indeed.

They had a son. He died.

Dinami didn't speak for a week.While not speaking, he walked. Sometimes, she walked with him.

It wasn't her he was angry at. It was his own mistake.

One day, in their walking, they found a cave.

It was the perfect place to store a secret.

They had a second son. He lived.

==Description ==
Thin and tall, Evali is a wisp of a young woman who seems to be perpetually hiding behind rib-length wavy golden-blond hair. She is wiry of frame and cautious in her movements, pale skin dappled with freckles, long-fingered hands the only graceful thing about her. Her soft eyes are slate blue and often blank of any expression. She is frequently found in loose-fitting skirts and button-up shirts, all of her clothing tattered but comfortable hand-me-downs.

==Background==
Mindhealer Dinami, young brother of Henret, was exiled only for loyalty to his brother. Archivist Evelti was another rebel lord's youngest daughter, knowing nothing of the schemes and punished for them anyway.

Once exiled they met, and slowly fell in love.

That love resulted in a child, and then he had a child, and from that son there were three children: Devaki, Evali and Kinami.

Coming from a long line of Healers, and having heard stories of the past for her entire life, Evali wanted to be one too starting at a very early age. Her mother, a midwife, started training her for the job when she was around twelve, and she was always eager.

Being somewhat insular by nature, Evali never had close friends, but she always looked up to and confided in her older brother. When their parents died in the Comet Pass, she got even clingier to Devaki than before -- except for how she'd also inherited her mother's position. While Evali was the youngest of the midwives, and did have others to look up to, she lived for her job. Her brother made the matches, and she handled the resulting children of those unions.

Since the exiles' "rescue" by High Reaches dragonriders, Evali's life went down the tubes, so to speak, for quite some time. Her sister Kiami died very early on, and grandfather and brother both sickened. While Devaki recovered and Viremi at least improved, no one was out of hot water. With a clutch on the sands and friend-types asking to stand left and right, plus Viremi's encouragement, Evali eventually gathered the nerve to ask Tiriana if Iovniath would have her -- no one else's opinion would do. The Weyrwoman gave in, albeit not too happily, and not too many days later Evali found herself pinned under green Yanijath, a new life beginning.

== RP Logs ==

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{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[Category:Blood]]
[[Category:Exiles]]
[[Category:Riders]]
[[category:Snowdrift Wing]]
[[Category:Greenriders]]
[[Category:Western Islands]]
[[Category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[Category:High Reaches Area]]
[[Category:Greater Pern]]

Evali/Comments

2011-11-09T01:01:54Z

Evali: Blanked the page

Evali/Comments

2011-11-09T00:59:44Z

Evali: Redirected page to Evali

#redirect [[Evali]]

Logs talk:Mixed Messages

2011-11-09T00:59:22Z

Evali: Comment provided by Evali - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Mixed Messages]]"
<comments />
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Evali/Comments|Evali]] ([[User:Evali|Evali]]) left a comment on Wed, 09 Nov 2011 00:59:22 GMT.

<comment date="2011-11-09T00:59:22Z" name="Evali" signature="[[User:Evali|Evali]]">
Oh, Io. I feel like I say that way, way too often for it to be healthy.
</comment>

Logs:Turnover Ball

2011-10-21T15:12:46Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Iolene, K'del, Emme, Lirienne, Evali, Riorde, Taikrin, Sa'zl, Zerenynio, Hypatia, Tiriana
| where = Living Cavern
| what = Turnover masquerade ball.
| when = Day 28, Month 13, Turn 26, Interval 10
| gamedate = 2011.10.18
| quote =
| weather = Crisp, clear, starry winter night.
| categories = General
| mentions = Milani
| icons = iolene.jpg, evali icy.jpg, sa'zl.jpg, hypatia sexyface.png
| log = Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs)

The day was one of those rare days of cloudless sunshine, and though it's frigid, it's a pleasant change from the wind and storms leading up to this day. Turnover. Last year was most auspicious. Last year, Iovniath rose and the exiles were in chaos and the bonfire and-... but this year? This year, the Headwoman's staff has put together a delightful and hopefully calmer event. The living caverns has been strung with holly in their glossy green leaves and brilliant red berries, gauzy ribbons and drapes and candles. There are harpers play and the buffet is decked out in color as well and those tables and chairs have been pushed to the sides of the room. It's a night for merriness and merry-making. Let's not forget the strategically placed sprigs of mistletoe all throughout the room, something a courageous boy has learned as he leans in to steal a kiss from a much older woman.

Even with his face painted and a mask to cover the rest of his features, K'del is a visible figure: it's the height, the hair, the build, even his stance in general. Exactly what he's dressed at is a little more difficult to determine: something that's brown at the bottom and sort of red and orange and yellow at the top. Weird. He mingles, anyway, sidling around to talk to people in a cheerful, relaxed kind of way.

White feathered and white dressed, Iolene's blonde hair has been done up for the occasion, what little of it you can see of her at any rate and she clutches at the arm of the girl she arrives with. "What if trip?" Never mind her dress isn't anywhere near long enough to trip over. "What if I fall on my face? What if-," behind the mask, those blue eyes get even bigger as a furtive glance casts behind her. "You don't think Iovniath's going to rise again, do you?" Cause last time was just so awesome.

The green dress, with long gloves and a glittered and feathered mask is enough unlike Emme that until one spies the familiar wave and shade of the young woman's hair she may well remain anonymous. Well, that, and until she speaks. And entering just behind Iolene and whomever she's arrived with, she can't help but pipe up. "Blame it on the copious amounts of alcohol you can pretend you've been drinking, if not in fact." she suggests, brightly. "Shhhh, don't say those things. You might just prod her into doing so out of spite."

Drudges, gussied up for the occasion in their own uniform of Reachian dark blue and black though minus the masks, make their way through the crowds carrying trays of canapes and drinks. The drinks seem to be going much faster than the food, though, given this is High Reaches, that's likely to be expected.

Why is Evali here? She hates parties -- or, well, she doesn't /know/ parties, but she hates crowds, and this certainly has the makings of one. Oh, right. Because Yanijath couldn't fit into the living caverns herself and so had to attend by proxy. Her clothing is relatively simple; a long, cotton pale pink dress with a lace back and sleeves. Her mask is white as well, and quite sparkly, but not adorned with anything otherwise; she is very easily identifiable considering her build and stature. The normally everpresent blonde hair is swept up in some updo that it is very obvious Evali didn't do herself. Attempting to best Yanijath's demands, she takes a glass of wine from a drudge and does not make eye contact with anyone.

Iolene bites back a laugh at Emme's comment, and only half succeeds. The once exile, then harper, now brownrider elicits a brilliant smile from Io and an affectionate squeeze of the arm. "Oh here," though there's a flicker of misgiving as some pink liquid concoction passes them by, Iolene plucks two off the tray and passes one over, lifting her own to toast. The fact that they're in the doorway and people are streaming in around them doesn't seem to matter to the young blonde. "To New Turns. And New Beginnings." The capitalization of everything she says can really be heard in her emphases.

Look, over there! It's a man, it's a dragon, it's a -- no -- a /feline/? They're just making all /sorts/ of masks these days, aren't they? This particular feline is dressed in his finest, though, in an awful lot of black, a very fine purple waistcoat with copper buttons, and ... well, a feline mask. One that seems to have gotten some music written on it, for good measure. He's also a terribly /large/ cat, but at least he isn't bathing in front of everyone. (Yet.) Which is to say: Sa'zl ambles in, grinning at everyone -- rather disturbing, the way he /doesn't/ have any fangs, really! -- and helps himself to a glass of wine.

Lirienne ended up having to go with quick and easy. For her, it's a bare-arm dress in grayish-blue, lacking any decoration or embrodery, but for a simple belt of yellow cord. Distinctively copper-red hair is piled up, escaping into long curls that brush the nape of her neck, while a plain cloth mask of matching blue 'hides' her ident.ity

Out in the middle of the open floor, a particularly coquettish greenrider shimmies on up to a man dressed all in black and takes him, willing or not, on a fast-paced dance as the harpers begin to pick up their tunes.

Emme bites back a laugh of her own at Iolene's reaction, taking the pink fizzy liquid thing when it's offered to her and clinking glasses with the weyrling weyrwoman at the apt toast. "New Turns, and New Beginnings." she agrees, drinking down at least half the glass's contents without an ounce of hesitation. She missed out on last years party, and apparently intends to make up for it this time! "C'mon, let's see if we can find the others. I see Evali." she whispers, practically skipping her way over there after she suggests it.

Coming in, Riorde bumps up against Emme and Iolene in the doorway - and pauses there to join and expand their little cluster. The neat elegance of her simple black dress and the low chignon her dark hair's been swept up in is rather undone by the fact that she's anxious, shifting from one foot to the other and scanning the room that's filling up fast; behind her mask, also black, her eyes dart. "Hi," she comes in during the middle of the toast, before Emme heads for Evali.

Iolene is about to trail after Emme and Evali, but she's markedly slower as those distinctively blue eyes seem to seek through the crowds and comes short in the throngs of costumes and masks that obscure familiarity. In her distraction, Riorde's earlier entrance was missed, that is, until she's turning again to find Emme and finds Riorde instead and another of her smiles blossoms, "You look so lovely. I mean, I knew you did but somehow the atmosphere makes it all the more exciting. It's almost like-," the slender girl flushes, "It reminds me of the weddings we had back on the island. But a lot more elaborate. Emme spotted Evali, but I can't even find anyone anymore."

Lirienne, clutching a familiar shawl like a security scarf, slips in with several of the others. However, the crowd streams towards tables or semi-familiar strangers while Liri heads towards a bit of wall to support, eyes flittering from costume to costume. Occasionally, there's a bit of a stare, such as when a feline is spotted.

Tiriana's dress is a long black-and-gold brocade number, a corset-style bust flaring into a fuller skirt. It's really pretty and expensive-looking even if Holly can't find a picture of it to prove it. She (Tiriana, not Holly) is also wearing a black mask edged in gold that mostly pays lip service to the idea of hiding her identity. All the kids are in bed, so she and R'uen (equally dapper, all in black) are moving through the crowd to make the usual rounds.

Riorde makes a concentrated, visible effort toward composure and makes her hands like flat at her sides, though even then she can't help rubbing the smooth, satiny fabric beneath her fingers. "Thanks," she replies to Iolene, managing a quick smile. "I guess it is -- except now we have new dresses." And new materials to boot. "I'm glad we all got ready together. That was like the weddings, too. Where's Evali?" She looks beyond Iolene, looking for where Emme's got to, and winds up staring at Tiriana instead. "Wow," she murmurs, sotto voce. "That's..." The words fail her; Riorde isn't used to glamour. She directs Iolene's attention instead, with a nod. "Look at her."

Hypatia is always late for things. This time, though, her rather belated entrance may actually be considered fashionable, especially as she's not the last to arrive. Her outfit has had quite some bit of work put into it: the dress is dark cobalt blue and strapless, several layers of sheer chiffon overlaying the sisal underneath and stopping just above the knee, with a peach ribbon secured around her waist. The very same peach is in some, but not all, of the many feathers at the top of her mask, which are in a few layers and tier up about eight inches high. Some of the others match the blue of the dress, and others are black. Despite the ornateness of the mask, though, anyone who actually knows her would be able to identify her based on the fact she's been talking about making the mask for quite a while. She doesn't mingle much, though, instead choosing to perch on the end of a chair and watch everyone else. Quality entertainment!

Evali is over here! Standing around, sipping from a glass of wine, and actually catching sight of the approach of Emme. She smiles, and notably remembers to wave with the hand /not/ holding the wine. She's tall, and so maybe the others will notice them soon enough. "Rhazekth wishing to be inside like Yanijath is?" she pries, looking mildly amused. "She is giving me orders."

Iolene follows Riorde's stunned look and finds Tiriana, an instant flush rising on her cheeks. Her eyes quickly avert and in doing so finds Evali and Emme again and reaches for Riorde's arm, "C'mon, I see them over there." With her pink drink in hand, she navigates the people to where Evali and Emme are. "Hey, I thought I lost you for a second there," she says of Emme, "But then I saw the back of your head and, my, you know that dress is absolutely stunning, right?"

"Rhazekth is content so far to just pry me with questions. What are people wearing, what are they saying, what are you drinking... why is it fizzy..." Emme replies, giving Evali a smile. "WHat's Yanijath ordering you to do?" When she hears Iolene's familiar voice again her head turns; in time to stare in flabbergasted awe at Tiriana's dress. And then to blink in pleased surprise. "Thank you, Io. I think we all look absolutely marvelous." Her darting gaze includes Ri and Evali in there too. "We /are/ all going to get out there and dance right? Right?"

A group of wingmates steal R'uen away, and while Tiriana glowers at them, her weyrmate only has a disarming smile and a kiss on the cheek for her, which diminishes the length of Tiriana's sulk enough that shortly she continues on her way, threading through the crowds to get a glass of wine before she actually gets down to socializing. It's the weyrling girls that draw her attention first, probably because they're looking at her, and she steps over toward their group. "Girls," she says, suitably smug.

Surprisingly, K'del's not with Milani -- indeed, the red-haired former Headwoman is no one in sight. The bronzerider, however, seems perfectly content without the arm-candy, and sweeps on towards the drinks table to order himself a drink. Whiskey in hand, he hovers back away from the crowds, watching from his height-aided vantage point.

Riorde keeps up with Iolene rather than be left lingering in the entrance by herself. Along the way, she snatches up a drink from the first circulating drudge she sees and ends up with white wine. It gives her something to do with her hands. "Suppose so - we had those dancing lessons for a reason, right? Why, is there someone you want to dance with?" She teases Emme, and then the lightheartedness drops off as Tiriana approaches. "Weyrwoman," she replies, her tone even and correct.

Iolene is all for the dancing, her hands, never mind the bubbly in one of them, trying to reach forward for one girl's hand each. "We should do the wedding dance!" Io declares. The flush Tiriana induced now becoming one of perhaps the highest joy she's displayed since their move. And then the Weyrwoman interrupts and there's a sudden diffidence to the blonde's shoulder set, though she doesn't turn to look to the owner of the familiar voice.

"I do not --" Evali had started to say in response to Emme's question about the dancing, but the sudden arrival of Weyrwoman has her falling immediately silent. Her expression evens out to its typical neutral, her own cheery amusement fading. Respectfully, she nods, and echoes Riorde's greeting with a "Ma'am" in a near-identical tone of voice.

"Maaaaaaybe." Emme keeps her voice light and teasing, stringing her answer to Riorde along a loooong syllable. But the idea of the wedding dance? Ooooh, now that makes her light up. "We //should//. Oh, we have to now! It's been too long since we've had the chance to celebrate like this. I.." Her effusive agreement is cut off by Tiriana's approach, and she offers a nod. "Weyrwoman. That's an incredible dress." is offered, politely. And suddenly finding her glass empty, eyes dart around looking for anything alcoholic.

Diffidence quickly turns into departure, and Iolene doesn't wait around for Tiriana to speak further. Nodding apologetically for her abruptness, and favoring her friends with a wane smile, the blonde drifts away, towards more familiar. The white-clad girl sidles up to a woman in blue and elbow nudges Lirienne, "Hey. You made it. Are you doing ok?"

But it isn't something alcoholic that Emme sees first, but rather that large feline-inclined fellow from before! Because Sa'zl is attuned enough to Weyr politics and his weyrlings' emotional states that he can tell none of the lovely ladies in front of him are actually /happy/ to have the Weyrwoman's attention, you see. And so that feline-inclined fellow -- so suave! so handsome! -- swoops in, between approaching Weyrwoman and gaggle of finely-dressed weyrlings, and bows oh-so-low, sweeping an imaginary hat off his head. "My fine lady!" he cries out, bending to one knee in supplication, "will thou not honor thy knight with a dance?" Does he know what a knight is? Of course not, who does? But that's the language!

Lirienne was not expecting company - rather taken by all the people- and mask-watching as she was. There's a startled jump, then a flood of color up to the fact, "Oh! Ah... Iolene? Right?" There is some peering, before she nods once. "I'm uhm, doing well. Everyone's looking, well, fabulous," she admits, a bit of a smile appearing. "Or amazing, uhm, in the case of yours."

Iolene lifts the corner of her mask so Lirienne might see her face. "Thank you. It's... different. It's my first real dress that's mine and only mine and-," halfway through, apparently realizing just how materialistic she sounds, the blonde teenager halts her words and laughs one of those shamed little laughs. "You look so lovely too. Have you danced yet? Did you get a drink?" Her feet tap to the beat in accompaniment to her words.

People-watching seems to be in; or, at least, it's in in one section of the party, as Hypatia isn't sitting too far from K'del's hovering location. She raises a glass to him even if he /isn't/ looking in her direction, simply because he evidently has good taste in what to do at parties, and says, "Weyrleader. Seems like a great party."

Drinks all around, right? One of those fancied-up drudges is fancied up so far as to be wearing a journeyman vintner's knot at his shoulder, and an awfully fancy mask, too... wait, maybe this one /isn't/ a drudge. He is, however, circulating around with a tray filled with wineglasses in various stages of "completely full" and "completely empty", and he offers that tray to the two ladies he's just approached -- namely, Iolene and Lirienne. Are either of them going to recognize Zerenynio-call-me-Zeren? Especially be-masked?

Riorde, watching Sa'zl interpose himself between the girls and Tiriana, takes just the tiniest step back. In her mind, his gesture - as good intentioned as it was - doesn't end well.

The glass raised in K'del's direction? No, he doesn't notice that. But his title - that's apparently harder to ignore. He turns, mouth twisting ruefully as he considers Hypatia, though a more genuine smile follows. "It does, doesn't it?" he agrees, with a contented bob of his head. "Seems like people came up with some interesting clothes to wear, too. It's nice-- relaxing. Happy turnover."

Lirienne no-doubt doesn't. Between the apprentice healer's own tendencies towards meekness, and an absence from the Weyr, names and faces are foggy. However, upon the offer of a drink, Liri grabs one of the partially filled glasses, then shakes her head at Io. "N-no. Never been much for, uhm, all that." Then, to the server, "Thank you." Taking a very very tiny sip, hardly as much as wetting her lips, she then offers a bit more true - and startled - smile. "It tastes, hm, light." Wine-tasting skills, she lacks.

The courtly charade makes Tiriana's lips purse up, and she draws herself up straighter for it. "I will not," she says, mouth curving into a faint sneer. "I don't care to dance with fools, so if you don't mind." If all her other prey escapes in the meantime, well, at least that much is accomplished. Tiriana eyes them all over Sa'zl's shoulder, eyes narrowing behind her mask.

Iolene lifts her own pink bubbly, not much imbibed from, as an excuse and takes a moment to take in Zerenynio's colorful mask. "You look like a jester. I've read about them that some Lord Holders used to keep them around to make people laugh." The white feather-masked weyrling allows the smallest smile to play at the corners of her lips. "We should dance. There's this dance we used to do, back home. Where the girls would link arms in a chain and dance in figure eights around the men."

Oh poor Sa'zl. He means well. Obviously. And then Ri steps back some, and Emme just feels -bad-. So first she leans over to murmur something at Evali, then leaning over to tap the weyrling bluerider on the shoulder. "I'll dance with you, if you like." she offers lightly, regardless of the Weyrwoman's sneer.

"And I," says Zerenynio, bowing a little over his tray to Iolene, "make fools of all men, by providing them with their drinks." He grins at her, quicksilver brief, before turning back to Lirienne with a gentler smile. "I'm glad you like it -- I /hope/ you like it -- it has some pear mixed in with the grape. /I/ am rather fond of how it turned out, at least."

Evali had just opened her mouth to speak when Emme beat her to it with her whisper; the greenrider's brows furrow a little bit, and there's an almost-imperceptible smile there, too. But she certainly doesn't get in the way of brownrider and bluerider's dancing departure, and rather merely offers encouragement. "Have fun," she says, and then inches closer to Riorde. Protect her.

Sa'zl droops, at first, as the Weyrwoman rejects him. It had seemed like such a /good/ plan! -- Maybe she just doesn't like felines? And then there's Emme, turning back to save /him/, and so she gets a grateful look indeed, once he's up on both his feet again. "I'm a good dancer," he promises Emme. "Light on my feet, like any other cat!" He's certainly less prone to falling down than some, including his own Yggdratth. Emme's turn, now, to receive a courtly bow, and then perhaps even a dance.

"Pear? Ah, well, I /do/ like pears," Lirienne allows, her knowledge of brewing any sort of spirit or wine below that of bedrock. Wide eyes, however, turn towards Iolene as color sinks down away from her fact, not quite blanching. ".. I would trip people, and, uhm, someone would get hurt." At least, there is that possibility.

"Happy turnover to you too, sir," Hypatia replies, smile broadening a bit. She seems glad to have someone to actually talk to. "The masks are quite -- inventive. So far. It's really great fun to watch what people are doing." Well, mostly; the exchange between weyrlings and Weyrwoman is noted with a lowering and shaking of the head. "Oh, Saz."

"Ok." And in that one word answer, Iolene does a remarkable job at hiding her own crestfallenness. Her first attempt at dancing smashed by Tiriana's arrival, her second, by her companion's shyness. Instead, the lips beneath that white and gold mask flash Lirienne a comforting smile and then, then she's turning to consider the vintner all over again. "You must have a lot of fun testing out your products."

Riorde toys with her wine glass, watching the exchange without too much overt interest - the sort of boring observer prone to disappear into the background. She glances at Evali as the other two weyrlings pair off to dance and tries for a lighter mood: "You didn't want to dance with him? I bet that was really intended for you -- Sa'zl just gets confused sometimes and forgets which way he's facing." She looks at Tiriana then. "I thought you might kick him."

"I think," K'del grins, making the paint on his face crack - it really isn't going to stay looking good for long, at this rate, "that some people start planning for these things months in advance. It's kind of nice to see." His gaze follows Hypatia's towards the Weyrwoman and the weyrlings, his expression turning briefly unreadable. "She has a way with words, the Weyrwoman."

Zerenynio watches Iolene, at first, for all that his lips are still curved in that same smile -- funny, since he was /supposed/ to be watching Lirienne, a moment ago. "The benefit of a masque like this, of course," he says lightly, "is that, even if you /should/ trip and fall and injure someone, nobody would know it was you... although I think you might be able to fix whatever ailed them, besides." Is she wearing her knot? Can /he/ recognize /her/, regardless? Hey, look, there's space on this table for him to slide the tray on and down and out of his hands, if he juggles carefully enough to get /those/ glasses /on/ it, at the same time. How nifty. And now his eyebrow is raised -- pity that that's lost behind his mask, for the most part -- at Iolene. "I think you wanted to dance, though," he tells her. "Would you care for a dance with me? I'm not an entire group of girls holding hands, but if you want, I'll pretend I am."

Emme just smirks the tiniest bit, offering her arm after the courtly bow so that they can briefly meld into the crowd of people dancing. "I think Evali needs the next rescue though. She's so shy." is prompted. "I did tell her I would drag her off to the dance floor next, but..." if he were to do so instead, well. "I think maybe the Weyrwoman was mistreated as a child. That's the only explanation I can come up with for someone being so mean-spirited." That, of course, is said in the must hushed voice possible and only when they're well clear of the others! "Or maybe someone poisons her breakfast with bitch powder every morning."

Lirienne is not wearing a knot, but the hair - if nothing else - is distinctive. At the fallen expression and then Zerenynio's offer, a smile appears. "Th-that is a wonderful idea. I could, er, walk the glasses, maybe?" she offers, looking from one to the other before eyeing the crowd at large.

"But," Iolene ventures Lirienne a look that speaks much of her earnestness not to abandon the wallflower healer to well, the walls. "Are you sure?" is what she ends up saying, though struggling to dampen the hope in her dark eyes.

Zerenynio grins at both of them, and reaches out to Lirienne, first, to cover her hand with his -- admonishing, really. "You /absolutely/ don't have to," he tells her firmly. "Believe me, people /will/ come and find the drinks, even if nobody is passing them out. And if you stand next to them, you're likely to be hit upon by those who are thoroughly inebriated, so you might consider dancing away from here once you have a fresh drink -- whether or not you're going to dance with either one of us." And then he retrieves his hand, takes a small sip from one of the almost-empty glasses (he has, at least, been keeping track of which one is /his/, which is more than he can say for any of the /other/ glasses), sets it back down empty, and holds his hand out imperiously to Iolene, to lead her back onto the floor.

Lirienne's eyes widen a bit at the idea of that happening - and the room gets quickly scanned away as she steps away from the platter. "Ah, good point, sir." That done, she struggles, then overcomes a bit of discomfort to nod at Iolene, and shoo with her free hand. "D-dance one for me, m-maybe. I'm sure!"

Sa'zl is a surprisingly ept dancer, as it turns out -- just about as far away from inept as anyone might imagine, considering he's such a big guy. On the other hand, those who grew up alongside him, or remember him growing up, are liable to remember that he was always pretty good at wrestling matches, and those do tend to require a certain amount of fancy footwork. Perhaps the surprise is just that he knows the dance steps, much less how to lead Emme around the floor; he's doing a pretty good job of it, and they're not bumping into anyone else. He's also delighted in a truly ghastly-horrified way at Emme's thoughts on the Weyrwoman, and is completely cheered up from how horribly she crushed his dreams. "You should dance with Evali next," he decides, "and then I can ask her for the /next/ dance after /that/! That way she won't be surprised, and she'll already be dancing so it won't seem hard to say yes." A sharp nod of decisions made, and then the whimsical, child-like grin is back on Sa'zl's face, barely visible beneath his mask. "She might special-order her breakfast that way every day, the night before, before it's worn off from that morning, so she doesn't give herself the choice to be nice," he whispers, and then sends Emme out into a spin.

"Mine only took something like sixteen days," Hypatia confesses to K'del, as regards her mask. "But I made it to match the dress, which is from my seventeenth turnday which was quite a while ago, so I suppose I am one of those people, really. And yes," of Tiriana, "she -- does, as far as I've witnessed. You don't have to be the most diplomatic person in the world to be a good Weyrwoman, at least." Her expression indicates approval of, at least, Tiriana's leadership style if not her social good graces.

K'del seems mildly impressed at the precision of Hypatia's answer, admitting, cheerfully, "I just threw some things together at the last minute, kind of. Too much else to think about, unfortunately. Still." He doesn't seem unhappy with the way his outfit turned out... whatever it is actually supposed to be. "No, that's true," he allows, of Tiriana. "You don't forget her, either. That's probably important. Wonder if she'll turn /me/ down for a dance, too."

Lirienne's assent seems to allay some of Iolene's fears and the hand she offers Zerenynio is the one that was, only seconds ago, holding her pink drink. A pink bubbly drink that is now polluting the tray with the various wines. "Please don't step on my toes," is all she says, though there's a hint of a joke in that low, rich voice of hers. "Do you think she'll be ok? I convinced her to come."

Good thing for Emme that Sa'zl is a good dancer. It's not that she's bad at it really, it's just that she has comparatively little experience. Or lessons. She's just happy not to be stepping on feet, and equally happy to have ghastly horrified and amused someone all at the same time. "Agreed." she decides, on dancing with Evali next. And then he after that. And the special-order-breakfast remark just sends the brownrider into a fit of giggles before she's sent into a spin. That, with the champagne, making her decidedly dizzy. "I can see I shouldn't drink a lot. /Oh well/!"

And Riorde is the winner; the first person to get Evali's expression to morph into a genuine grin. Which she immediately feels guilty for, but fails to perfectly wash away. "I do not know, really, if I should like to dance with anyone -- one-on-one, that is. Not very experienced. And these shoes." She gives the heels a disapproving look. Stupid bossy wardrobe-dictating dragon. Her glance travels back Tiriana-wards, once she's spoken, curious what the verdict is on kicking.

Zerenynio grins at Iolene again. "I promise not to step on your toes often enough that you'll notice," he vows solemnly, with a single glance back at Lirienne before he adds, "and I think she'll probably be better if she isn't standing next to the wine, for at least two reasons. If she isn't having fun, it shouldn't be too hard for her to sneak away, either. She'll be okay." He's pretty confident of that, but then, he's never felt out-of-sorts in a giant crowd of party-goers, either. At least this one's a fast one; the band is feeling jazzy.

"Well," says Riorde, more casual than gallant, "if you wanted to give it a try, we could always have a go - just think of it like the weddings back in the island like Io was saying earlier. Instead of, you know, with lots of people you don't know." Staring. And possibly cutting in.

Lirienne does, in fact, move away from the platter with drinks. However, she takes her own with her, the better to people watch. And to stare - especially at those cutting in on the dancers. However, for all that, she practices her wallflower abilities, and fades quite well into the background.

Iolene has to laugh at that, more a giggle than an outright laugh and for a girl from the sticks, she's surprisingly adept at the whole dancing concept. Then again, it's all about moving, and her prior occupation comes out in her lithe movements. "If you think so. I used to love parties back at home." But the dancing can lead to breathlessness and so instead of talking, she just shimmies and shakes so the features atop her mask bobble happily.

"That would look bad," is Hypatia's first guess as far as K'del's getting refused by Tiriana. "Wouldn't it? Pass along the image you can't work together diplomatically if you can't dance together -- unless she just turns everyone down, then it looks fair and equal." Tiny, but noticable, shrug. "I like yours, even if I can't tell exactly what you were aiming for. I'm extremely bad at that sort of thing."

Evali seems to be considering this idea -- and then, eventually, nods. "Emme was going to make me," she tells Riorde softly, "but I suppose I can dance with you first, and then her, and look as if I have skill. I am surprised you are not dancing with Taikrin." Evali would rather not get the evil eye for being a girlfriend thief, and yet as she hasn't /spotted/ Taikrin, she might be safe.

K'del's laugh is quiet, but not bitter. "People have always assumed that about us. But we get along, for better or for worse." He glances down at his clothes, head shaking. "I was going for a torch. You know-- lighting up the long winter nights, something like that? That's what a few minutes of thought gets you, I guess."

The little smile that was left disappears altogether, and Riorde rediscovers her wine. "I don't think that's going to happen." She looks for some place to deposit her now empty glass, which conveniently entails breaking eye contact with Evali. She steps away momentarily to rid herself of the glass, and it's with a brisk sort of determination as she picks up, "But Charlie," Ch'vaz, "said he'd dance with me later. Shall we?" Off and out onto the dance floor.

Once again, Hypatia looks K'del up and down -- this time with the knowledge of what she's /supposed/ to be seeing, and that makes all the difference. She smiles. "Now that you tell me, I definitely get it -- you need a name-tag, or something, and then people will appreciate it more. I think it's clever. I'm not actually supposed to be anything. Except feathery."

"Feathery," repeats the Weyrleader, and it makes him laugh. "A name-tag. Well-- maybe I'll just leave people guessing. At worst, I look like I just decided to paint myself and wear a dumb mask, and I'm surprisingly okay with that." He's had at least one or two drinks; that much is pretty obvious, though he's far from actually drunk. "If you'll excuse me? I should-- mingle. Be polite."

Zerenynio is definitely enjoying the dance with Iolene, right up through its end -- this is a slower tune, and he hesitates, smiling at her, bright-eyed and breathing a little hard from exertion. "Did you want to keep dancing?"

Winded, though not as much as Zerenynio it would seem (those weyrling drills seem to have done the girl some good), Iolene takes in a long breath and exhales slowly. Her cheeks are flushed for the dancing but possibly more for the fun had and as the song slows, she too hesitates. A moment starry-eyed thought is given the situation and the colorfully masked man before her before a hand extends. "Tell me about yourself." A beat later, she's ruining the whole reason for masks and introduces herself with, "I'm Iolene."

Now, even as they dance, Evali looks -- guilty, primarily. "I am sorry, Riorde; I had not meant to upset you." Had she forgotten about a split she certainly knew about, or had she expected Taikrin to see the error of her ways for deciding weyrlings were a bad idea? Could have been either one. Or Evali just isn't able to take breakups seriously. "Is he nice? Ch'vaz? We have barely spoken, though Yanijath is fond of Hiyanoth."

Zerenynio certainly doesn't mind, nor is he /really/ attempting to be all that anonymous, considering his earlier lurking near the wines. "My name is Zerenynio," he answers, the mouthful coming easily from his lips, and sweeps Iolene back out to the floor. Slower dances are good for talking, anyway! "You're more than welcome to call me Zeren; nearly everyone here does." Again, he smiles. "Or they call me 'that guy who talks a lot and never really seems to shut up once you get him going,' sometimes. I'm a vintner, by craft, and /you/, I believe, ride gold." Because rumors get around.

"You've been doing a good job of it so far," Hypatia offers by way of encouragement, or an endorsement of K'del's mingling skills. "And so, now I have been mingled with and you're free to mingle with others." She offers another smile, and then is lost again to her people-watching. At least it seems her touched vintner friend is having fun.

Beneath her mask, Iolene's cheeks burn and those dark blue eyes of hers shift away suddenly at Zerenynio's observations of who, or what she is. "Yeah. I'm the mistake." But it's uttered so lightheartedly; she's gotten so much better at waving off this Tiriana-designation as a self-mocking joke. "I have something to confess," she says immediately thereafter, head bending inward to Zerenynio. "I don't really like wine very much. I usually end up sick after drinking it."

The day was one of those rare days of cloudless sunshine, and though it's frigid, it's a pleasant change from the wind and storms leading up to this day. Turnover. Last year was most auspicious. Last year, Iovniath rose and the exiles were in chaos and the bonfire and-... but this year? This year, the Headwoman's staff has put together a delightful and hopefully calmer event. The living caverns has been strung with holly in their glossy green leaves and brilliant red berries, gauzy ribbons and drapes and candles. There are harpers play and the buffet is decked out in color as well and those tables and chairs have been pushed to the sides of the room. It's a night for merriness and merry-making. Let's not forget the strategically placed sprigs of mistletoe all throughout the room, something a courageous boy has learned as he leans in to steal a kiss from a much older woman.

"It's okay," Riorde insists between one spin and the next. "It's not --" She trails off, the end of her thought dangling as she skips to less sore subjects. "Yeah, he is. We work together on the, um, class stuff. You should try talking to him sometime-- he probably thinks you don't like him." Her joke falls flat. "Cause, you know, we're always spending time with each other but not always altogether, you know, with the others." The non-exile weyrlings.

"I," says Evali, and finds herself at a loss for words. Considering she doesn't really try talking to /anyone/ except people those she already considers friends are already talking to right in front of her. She allows herself to be distracted by dancing for a moment, and then tries again with, "Maybe they all think that of me. Yanijath seems to make up for it." She does seem to be /enjoying/ dancing, despite her initial protests.

Zerenynio gives Iolene a very solemn look, and spins her, in turn. Once she's safely back in his arms, he tells her, "That sounds like a terrible mistake, indeed -- either you're drinking too much of it, not enough of other things, you haven't eaten, you /have/ eaten, or it really just doesn't agree with you and you should consider cultivating a taste for something else. It's usually a good idea, as a gold rider, to have /something/ mildly alcoholic you can drink -- not because you /should/ be drinking, or getting drunk, that is, so much as it is that you'll be looked at oddly by certain parties if you're never seen consuming alcohol. There are, after all, those riders who set a great deal of store by the idea of getting very drunk very frequently, and they have to trust you, too." Note he did not say 'like'. Or agree that she, as a goldrider, was a mistake.

At some point, Taikrin stole into the living caverns. It's hard to say when, precisely, because she's unusually subdued in both dress and manner. And, even more shocking, she appears to be totally sober -- and intending to stay that way. Given the events of last turnover, this should not be a huge surprise. She's migrated slowly to the edge of the dance floor, arms folded loosely across her plain white shirt, and seems to be content watching the weyrlings dance. Well. One weyrling, in particular. And maybe not so much content as resigned, and maybe a little sad.

Spun and returned, Iolene presses into the vintner's body and follows his lead quite well, despite a lack of lessons. "By drinking?" There's a note of dubiousness in the weyrling's voice and in her face at the Zerenynio says. "I gain trust by drinking?" The second question brings on a new element, confusion, as she tries to figure out how this jumbled logic works.

"I'm teasing," Riorde backpedals. "I'm sure he doesn't really think that. Everyone knows you're..." How to stay polite? Not Riorde's forte. "Shy," she finishes, accompanied by a smile to subtract from any negative sting. "But you should try it sometime - we've all been living together for ages, so it can't hurt, right?" Her posture suddenly stiffens; she's noticed Taikrin, and is now all too keen to dance with Evali in the other direction.

Sa'zl has been having a blast dancing with Emme, but Emme is intent on dancing with Evali, if only -- according to what she'd said to Sa'zl earlier -- so that he could then dance with Evali, too. And so, as the music changes again, Sa'zl is left off on the sidelines alone, not so far away from Hypatia. He watches Emme heading for her next dance partner for a moment, and then spots Hypatia, and grins at her under his feline mask. "Hi there," he offers. "Were you dancing, or just holding up the wall? I'm pretty sure it's supposed to stay there permanently."

Evali is, at least, not insulted by being called shy. And probably would have been okay with any other similar but less polite conclusion, for that matter; she seems comfortable either with Riorde or blunt honesty, and it's likely both. "Yanijath will be so glad you agree with her," she says with a little bit of a laugh, and makes no comment on the fact that they are now heading a different way than they had been before. She's not the one leading, and so she will go in whichever direction she's led. (Within reason.)

Zerenynio nods, grinning. "Yeah, actually -- believe it or not. It's /more/ common with men, but I wouldn't go so far as to claim that women didn't do it, too, or that men didn't expect women to drink. Something about how it's not manly /not/ to drink? And then they go and expect women to be manly, too, even if they're supposed to be the spitting image of femininity, and I don't know what that would be, or be supposed to be, if /not/ a goldrider." Don't worry, Iolene. Everyone ends up confused by Zeren at /some/ point or another.

Good, Riorde and Evali dancing the other way makes it that much easier for Taikrin to drift after them without causing a ruckus. And then there she is, coming up behind Riorde to tap the weyrling gently on the shoulder with a curiously determined expression on her face that's softened only marginally by a faint, lopsided smile. Her voice is husky, as if from disuse, and the accent is thicker than ever. "Mind if I take a turn, ladies?"

And confused she is. But the dance is soon to end, and Iolene comes to a halt without music to help her movements along. "I don't think I understood half of what you said, but-," But that's ok. It's all in the expression, that half-curved smile that traces straight on up to her glittering eyes. "Thank you. For the dances and the advice." Tip toes try to see through the crowd to where Lirienne was, and finds no healer. "I guess-, I guess she either found someone else to talk to," unlikely, "Or went home."

Hypatia's eyebrow climbs very high indeed, though it's impossible to be seen underneath her mask. She lets out a tiny bark of a laugh, and tells the bluerider with a sage nod, "No, you're right. I'm totally here to keep the wall up. But -- if -- are you /sure/ it'll stay here permanently?" she asks, leaning closer to him, an intensity in her tone. "Like, I don't need to support it in this chair? Because if you can confirm that, and be /completely/ sure, I guess we could dance." By the end of her comment, she's grinning.

"Well, that's two against one. Three, if we count Sforzath. And we should, since he and Yanijath get on so well. So there you have it!" Riorde finishes with a verbal flourish, a triumphant note that rings firm, definitive. All that's lost in the instant that Taikrin comes up behind them; Riorde has that frozen, dragon-bearing-down-on-you look that leaves her not quite sure what to say or do -- Taikrin's supposed to be on the other side of the room, isn't she? "Uh, well--" Slow to recover, she is, with colour rising in her cheeks.

What was that Evali had dismissed earlier, about being stared down by Taikrin for being a girlfriend stealer? Right. The greenrider only has a moment to nod in solidarity to Riorde's proclamation; she at least appears to be okay with the fact that two dragons and a friend are ganging up on her to make her sociable. They're being kind about it! Taikrin's interruption, though, has her frozen, staring at her wide-eyed. Blink. Blink. "That -- would be her choice," she eventually comes up with, awkward, and shooting another quick guilty look Riorde's way.

"We could look for her, if you're worried," Zeren suggests lightly to Iolene, and then -- without really waiting for that much of an answer -- extends her his arm, so that she has one to lean on or at least hold onto courteously while they make their way off the dance floor, to find out whether or not poor Lirienne has died of mortification from being hit on by any of /those/ riders. You know which ones.

Sa'zl's eyes are very solemn, for all that it's not the easiest thing in the world to see them behind his mask, as he nods to Hypatia. "I am in fact absolutely and completely certain that the wall will remain exactly where it is, whether or not you remain in your seat," he vows solemnly to the healer apprentice. "I'm /pretty/ sure, in fact, that it's been there since before either you or I was born, and probably longer besides! So now," he concludes impishly, "you'll dance with me, because you promised!" And she doesn't get much more of a chance to object before he's swooping her off to the floor!

Not finding Lirienne at all, even with the kind support of a man to lean against while she tiptoes, Iolene then turns to Zerenynio and leans up to pecck the guy on the cheek. "Thanks again. I should go find my friends." And Io being Io, she whirls about in her pretty white dress and feathered mask and wanders the party, avoiding one of her friends in a conspicuous show down with Taikrin.

In this sea of girlish fluttering, Taikrin is solid and confident as a rock, as if the very /idea/ of being turned down was unfathomable. "Well. If she don't mind, then." Her smile broadens, Taikrin at her most charming, but her eyes are dark-smudged and cheekbones more prominent. "I hear tell I ain't half-bad at this turnover dancing bit. And I reckon I can promise not to be crushin' toes." Then, more quietly, because she can't help herself, "Or mussin' such a fine dress."

Sa'zl has left.

Riorde recovers all at once, sounding and looking annoyed - some of that annoyance being self-directed. "Fine," she agrees in a clipped tone, "I'll dance with you. Evali--" She turns back towards the other weyrling with a perfunctory smile, but real warmth present when she says, "See you later? Thanks." She doesn't specify what for, but it could cover several things: the dance, the chat, the support.

Evali's response is sincere and accompanied by a just-as-true smile as she releases Riorde to Taikrin and says, "Yes. Of course -- and always." She offers a proper wave in Riorde's direction, as well as a nod and respectful, but not overly clipped, "Brownrider," to Taikrin as she escapes out into the crowd -- or just escapes from the crowd.

Zerenynio has left.
Evali has left.

"Be fun, promise," Taikrin encourages. And then, to Evali, because she's feeling magnanimous: "I'll take good care of her." A hand is held out for Riorde to take, complete with a mildly ridiculous half-bow that has her sweeping her other arm out wide. To complete the image, she gravels up at Riorde with that same half-smile, "If you'd do me th'honor..?"

Despite herself, Riorde's lips twitch with a smile at the exaggerated, farcical gesture -- instead of stepping away from it like she did with Sa'zl, now, after a hesitation in which to school herself back to stoicism, she steps towards. "Just one," she lays out the conditions on the onset as she takes Taikrin's hand. Riorde looks at the rider cautiously, the study unmistakable from this close distance.

"'Course," is the brownrider's easy agreement as she straightens. Her fingers wrap gently around Riorde's, while her other hand hovers delicately at the small of her back as if the weyrling might break under too much strain. And then? Dancing. It's Taikrin's instinct to lead, and she's not half-bad at it despite the fact that she's mostly just returning Riorde's study with a curious look of her own. Up close, she really doesn't look all that great: sallow skin, dark circles, hair in need of a trim (though it's clean and brushed back tonight). Nevertheless, she's clearly determined to enjoy her single dance.

Riorde is hardly breakable though; all these months of physical training coupled with what's now over a Turn's worth of proper nourishment mean that any inclination towards frailty is long gone. Following, Riorde settles into the rhythm, and for a time goes through the steps silently in the midst of everyone else's chatter and laughter. Then, "You look like shit." She doesn't bother with tact, but sounds a little less certain and direct when she follows that with, "Are you okay?"

"Gettin' by. You know me." The contact remains feather-light, the distance Taikrin holds herself to polite and appropriate for friends-- not particular /good/ friends, at that. "Seems like bein' a weyrling's agreeing with you, yeah?" She falters, something in her smile growing fixed as she adds, "Y'seem happy. I'm glad t'see it, me. Like you're doin' okay, now?" Because before she wasn't, apparently?

"Uh huh," is Riorde's response, maybe to the answer to her query after Taikrin, maybe as to how she likes weyrlinghood -- but altogether skeptical. "I'm fine," she states more firmly than she needs to, with a smile to prove it. The smile stays, forced on. "We have our own weyr now. Be flaming soon."

"Heard tell y'all moved out. You get a good one?" Because she definitely hasn't been stalking Riorde. No. Definitely not. That asn't been Szadath tailing them last seven, to see where they've been going, no sir. "Flaming's the best part. 'Least, Szad liked it best. And Iskiveth." Though the sting from the goldrider's transfer has faded, she still says the name like a curse, and her grip briefly tightens before she can master the impulse. Instead, she repeats, "Makes me happy to see y'all doin' good. Bein' happy."

"Yeah, it's good." Riorde doesn't entirely understand what transpires with the naming of Iskiveth, but that moment of something other than surface inquiries and passing on of news softens something in her so that she says, "Sorry about that day. Your Turnday." Alluding to her outburst in combination with the repeated invocation of happiness makes Riorde look away, uncomfortable, over Taikrin's shoulder.

That apology seems to make Taikrin equally uncomfortable, though she deals with it by drawing closer to Riorde; that way she can avoid looking at the other woman without it /seeming/ like she's avoiding her. "S'no big deal. Reckon I was drunk enough, anyways. Barely even remember it." Which she very clearly is not, tonight; there's not even a breath of alcohol on her. Amazing! Then, softer, "Reckon you're allowed t'beat on me and make a fuss, anyways. Earned it, yeah?"

Riorde's fingers curled lightly around Taikrin's shoulder tighten briefly in a reflexive reaction to the other woman coming closer. She's quiet in her embarrassment, though as the music enters the closing bars before the next number picks up, Ri says, "Still," a sort of suspended protest that answers nothing directly. Riorde steps back with the end of the dance, arms falling away first and then loosely clasped in front of her, holding herself in a loose hug. "Thanks for the dance," she says after a hesitation, sounding tired, the smile she offers a far cry from cheerful. Ducking her chin, Riorde hurries off towards a cluster of weyrlings she'd spotted during the dance, including one of the two bronzeriders with whom, by the looks of it, she's on good terms.

Taikrin's, "Thank you," is genuine, albiet soft, with special emphasis on the last word. When Riorde steps back and away at the end of the dance, her hands briefly clench before dropping uselessly to her sides. "See you... around." The look she directs after the weyrling, once Riorde heads back to her clutchmates, is wistful-- and, once she realizes exactly who it is that she's going towards, maybe a little heated. But she won't be pursuing her again tonight, even if she might just be keeping a subtle watch. Just in case. You can't trust bronzeriders!

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Logs:Doubt

2011-10-19T04:12:43Z

Evali:

{{ Log
| who = Evali
| where = Weyrling Barracks
| what = Post-hatching reflections.
| when = Day 5, day 6, month 7, turn 26
| gamedate = 2011.08.16
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = Vignette
| mentions = Devaki, Seani, K'del, Iolene
| icons = evali sad.jpg, evali yanijath.png
| log = It had been the best and the worst day of Evali’s life, simultaneously, but she hadn’t realized that until later.

Yanijath, of course, was more than she could have asked for -- and, often, more than she could even handle. The little green was quickly Best Friends (at least in her mind) with Amareth, perhaps bonding in physical abnormality or just in being good-natured girls paired to less than forthcoming women. She had already annoyed Vysravth and Yggdratth, sort of provoked Temrianth, egged on Rhazekth’s questioning and generally made a nuisance of herself in the barracks, chattering constantly and knocking things over. She was tiny, growing slowly, so skinny. Evali worried every moment for her, though her dragon’s unfazeable positive attitude never seemed to take note of her size or relative boniness. And she ate well and kept food down - warnings about choking in her first hours of life seemed to have stuck hard to Yanijath. She wasn’t sickly. She didn’t sleep any more or any less than her clutchmates. she didn’t act -- colicky, could a dragon be colicky? Evali would have to learn.

So really, her constant concern for Yanijath’s health was useless. In fact, it was counterproductive and frequently admonished by the dragon herself. ''<< Happy thoughts! >>''

And yet despire everything, despite all her worries, despite their personality incompatibilities that at (frequent) times grated Evali’s nerves -- Yanijath completed her in ways she could never have imagined.

Not that those happy moments'' (happy thoughts)'' had lasted.

Seani’s murder would mar the memories of that night forever. Of those moments. Every time she thought of it, Evali was reminded of hearing Iolene’s cry, of Riorde’s not understanding, of her own slow coming to terms with what it was the newest goldrider, beloved Iolene, had said to them -- that the panic that ran through the dragons was because of Seani.

Dead.

Murdered.

And the things people said of her! And the things people asked Evali -- could she have killed herself, unstable from losing a child? Could she have stolen a child, unstable from losing a child? The thing was, Evali couldn’t say no. She had seen evidence before of coveting others’ children -- but Seani had never seemed the type. She seemed so happy as a nanny. She was doing well merely caring for others’ children. She was doing welll. (Sometimes Evali wondered after the man she had been seeing at the gather -- what had happened to him?)

More than anything, Evali didn’t want to doubt Seani.

She hated saying that she couldn’t be sure. She was glad it was only fellow islanders ( ''<< What is exile? Evvy? I thought this was our home! >>'') who were asking her, and not Weyrleaders come to call for her opinion. She worried someday that K’del would ask her. He had reason to know she might know. She tried, frequently, not to think about it.

Generally, Yanijath let her get away with that.

Yanijath, who thought Seani was a story Evali had thought so important she couldn’t let it wait until she’d even had her first nap; Yanijath, who was constantly attempting to cheer up the other dragons whenever they got down.

The problem was, Yanijath had yet to meet Devaki. She asked questions about Devaki. Evali missed Devaki horribly -- she and Iolene had looked for him, but to no avail, after the hatching.

Where had her brother gone?

And dare she even think about the fact he vanished the night someone was murdered?

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File:Icon evali yanijath.png

2011-10-19T04:12:13Z

Evali: