Difference between revisions of "Logs:Sledding and Sculptures"

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.

The warm, sunny afternoon has brought a number of weyrfolk to the pleasant retreat of the patio ledge, though they're not all at play. K'del and Sisha, his Wingsecond, are just calling to a close a fairly informal wing meeting; the greenrider waves her arms vaguely towards the riders, concluding, "And that's it. Go off with you, there's an afternoon to enjoy." It's been a pretty standard meeting: drills for the next seven, sweep rotation, the farewelling of an older rider now retiring to one of the less active wings. Business concluded, K'del drapes himself over one of the empty chairs, shifting his mug from one hand to the other and declaring, "Half wish it were /always/ summer in this place, right about now."

It's the perfect day for leisure activities and Leda is able to indulge, given that she's not yet been given the a-ok to return to work yet. It's nice being on the good side of a healer. The apprentice is making good use of her time via exploration of the Weyr, all of those nooks and crannies she hasn't had an opportunity to see. Earlier it was the stables, and now her aimless wanderings have led her here: first into the Snowasis, where a pewter mug of something alcoholic was secured and then onto the patio ledge to enjoy the sunshine. She seems much improved, if one can overlook the peeling skin at her temples, her nose, the span of her forehead, her arms... "Mam always said careful what you wish for," she remarks on the heels of the Weyrleader's declaration, giving an amiable nod to both riders, "Mind if I steal this chair, sir? Ma'am?"

And since that just happens to be Silarra's wing, the greenrider is already there, part of that meeting. As it wraps up, she slides own into a chair near K'del with a sigh. "But no. Soon it will be freaking winter and we'll be freezing our asses off once again. Turning into human icicles." She already has a mug in hand, taking a sip from it as Leda gets a quick nod of greeting.

Sisha's retort is a merry, "You'll enjoy the ice skating and the first snows, though. You always do." The tall, lithe greenrider, having said this, glances around to consider Leda, and can't entirely hide her dismay at the apprentice's appearance. "We're all done, go ahead. I'll see you all later, mm?" She departs, leaving K'del to note, "She's probably right, but-- ugh. Human icicles, exactly. Hello, Le-- shells. Yes, take the chair, and tell us what happened to you, mm?" An expansive wave of the arm invites her; he even straightens himself so that his legs stop taking up most of the room beneath the table, so kind.

Thereby proving Leda's mother correct: wish you can easily get a chair at a popular watering hole, and the universe provides an accident and a really gross healing process to make it so. Leda watches Sisha go, lips gone quirky with bemusement at the rapid retreat. "Hnn? Ah...thank you, sir, hadn't thought to join you but that's a kindness." Rather than drag the chair over to an adjacent table, which is oddly chairless, she steps around the seat and settles into it. "Lady rider," she adds, combining the formal greeting with a friendly sort of smile at Silarra. "I'm all right, really. Looks worse than it is, it's all but healed now except for the old skin coming off. Scrubbed myself this morning but I suppose it's looking bad again, aye? Had a bit of a misunderstanding with some steam."

Silarra winces at that. "Looks like you're going to start peeling all your flesh off in layers." She tells Leda, rather bluntly before she adds. "And it's just Silarra. Please. That's almost as bad as Sho calling Gabe sir." There's a shake of her head, and a sip before she winces. "Don't think I'll be ice skating this winter either." Sisha gets a belated wave before Silarra sinks a bit more into her chair. Not like she has to worry about long legs or anything.

K'del apologises, for himself and for Sisha, by admitting, "Just a little surprising. And-- yeah. Peeling. Like a really awful sunburn or something, I guess. Sisha's..." Something. And K'del too, apparently. But he smiles at the Apprentice, telling her, "Hope it's not the kind of thing that happens often. Steam, huh." Setting his mug down on the table, he shades his eyes with one hand, adding, something like an aside, "Guess you probably won't be, at that. Can't blame you. Maybe some sledding, though? Snow sculptures? Reckon we might avoid another turnover skating party."

"Guess I'll be visiting the baths again tonight." Her face twists in a grimace and she reaches out, patting gingerly at her forehead when Silarra describes the visual effect. The temptation to pick is obviously there. Thankfully, Leda resists that urge. "Oh, no sir. Burns aren't common, usually it's breaks or cuts. Crushing." Leda is ever so earnest but it's perhaps fortunate this isn't a meal table. Fortunately, after this imagery, she settles back in her chair and appears content to let the conversation move on from talk of gross bodily injury. She listens, sipping from her mug, and when the opportunity presents itself, she inquires, "Why no skating come winter? Seems a shame to miss the chance at some of the good that comes of it being so cold?"

"Breaks suck." Silarra states evenly as she looks over to Leda's peeling for a moment. "Snow is safe. I'm sure I'll go for some sledding, maybe some snowball fights. Just nothing on the ice." Silarra shudders before she looks over to Leda. "Last turnover, I tried to enter a skating race with some other weyrlings. Three of us fell through the ice. I have never been that cold or that scared in my life."

Breaks. Cuts. Crushing. K'del's brows raise just the slightest bit more with every injury on this list of potentials, though ultimately, he only shakes his head. And reaches again for his mug, though that, and the long sip that follows, may be entirely coincidental. After he's swallowed, he says, "And people think /riders/ live a dangerous life. Though... guess not so much these days." These riders, with their hard lives and alcohol-fueled, sunlit meetings. He's silent as Silarra explains the incident, though adds, after she's finished, "Not sure if S'varis will ever go near the lake again. Apparently, he's been taking Viondeth down south for washing, and it wasn't even /our/ lake it happened at."

Leda tilts her head, aiming an ear at Silarra to listen to the explanation. Her eyes go round at what she hears. "Oh aye? I can't say I blame you for wanting to avoid the ice after that. Took a dip in the bay one winter, thanks to my brother, and it felt like I'd forgotten how to breathe by the time I crawled out. And that right on shore, without the current and..." And everything else associated with being pulled under a sheet of ice. It isn't an exaggeration, the shudder summoned up by imagining what those weyrlings must have felt. She too takes a large swallow of her drink; between the alcohol and the sunshine, the ghost of winter should soon be banished. "Sledding and sculptures it is...ahh, it's not so bad, sir. I've only just had a run of poor luck this past Turn. Living's a gamble." The hand not occupied in holding her mug creeps beneath the table to lightly rap knuckles against the wood.

"S'varis got the worst of it. I remember feeling like I was going to cough my lungs out of my chest from that col afterwards." Silarra shakes her head with another big drink from her mug before she looks over to Leda. "Ever tried being careful?" There's a teasing, sarcastic tone to that question.

The way K'del tips his head upwards towards the sky seems to suggest he, too, is trying to banish the concept of that much cold. He keeps his tone relatively even, though, remarking only, "Reckon we'll all be more wary after that. Poor S'varis. He may even end up transferring south; weak chest, or something, they're saying now." He seems only amused by Silarra's teasing sarcasm, as though he's entirely used to hearing this kind of thing from the greenrider. Holding back a low laugh, he says, "Suppose it is a gamble. Particularly when you're working with heavy, sharp or hot things, I guess."

"Aye, I never let him walk on the outside of me near the water again," Leda responds to the teasing, her own tone light and her lips curled with a smile, "Sometimes the ice holds. Sometimes, even if you're careful, it doesn't." She pauses for a beat. "Of course, I should've been wearing my gloves. Won't make that mistake again, seeing as how that's all I work with." The apprentice shifts in her chair, scootching down until she's bent enough to bring a knee up to rest against the table's edge with her ankle crossed over the other knee. "It's a shame you might lose a rider, though. What with these meant to be the Turns for keeping them whole and the Weyr strong in numbers."

"Aye, I never let him walk on the outside of me near the water again," Leda responds to the teasing, her own tone light and her lips curled with a smile, "Sometimes the ice holds. Sometimes, even if you're careful, it doesn't." She pauses for a beat. "Of course, I should've been wearing my gloves. Won't make that mistake again, seeing as how that's all I work with." The apprentice shifts in her chair, scootching down until she's bent enough to bring a knee up to rest against the table's edge with her ankle crossed over the other knee. "It's a shame you might lose a rider, though. What with these meant to be the Turns for keeping them whole and the Weyr strong in numbers."

Silarra smirks over to Leda. "I meant with the work as well. So you don't end up skinless and sore." That dry tone is still there, but well, it's in Silarra's voice well over half the time anyway. "S'varis can have the south. Maybe he'll sweat himself into a puddle down there. I like the trips for washing Liniath on occasion, but to live there? It's so /hot/. An sticky."

"Reckon accidents happen even when you're the most careful," remarks K'del, more or less repeating what Leda's already said, though in different words. But it's light: not a chide in Silarra's direction, not in Leda's, either, unless either are particularly determined to find fault with him. The bronzerider shifts his position, stretching his legs out again, though carefully, so as to avoid other feet beneath the table. "Mm. Riders do move about a bit, regardless. It happens. Though, granted, I'd rather we didn't lose too many, what with only the one producing queen. Anyway. Not sure I disagree, Silarra: this kind of warm is good, but Ista, for example? Always overwhelming after a while, I find."

Leda raises her mug in a toast to Silarra. "Skinless and sore is an apprentice's fate, sad to say. I'm careful where I can be, aye." If she's taken offense to the greenrider's tone, or K'del's interjection, no sign is given. Her smile remains a casual and easy thing, as if she made a habit of lounging with riders of rank and passing idle conversation with them. How many beers has she had? The level in that mug is still high and there's no slur to her words. "Is it so bad there?" she asks, "I dream of the island, come deep winter, but I've never been."

"I'd never been until I lived here. Never really been that much farther south than here in our wanderings." Silarra admits. "It's pretty. And hot. Really hot. Nice for a visit, but I'd die trying to live there. Ick. Stinky sweaty people." Silarra shudders a bit at that, chilling back in her chair as she drains the last of her mug.

K'del's mug is emptied, this time, and abandoned to the table, though the tall man makes no move to go fetch another one: it's probably far too pleasant here in the sun. "Come winter, reckon we all dream about warmer climes. Benefit of being here, I think, Leda: if you want to go, there'll be plenty of volunteers to take you down. We've hot pools up in the mountains for dragon washing in winter, but lots of us head further south anyway, when the lake freezes."

"I expect you can find those wherever you go," Leda chuckles, "Come mid-winter, back home, no one dared take a bath for fear of getting the layers off and freezing. Took too long, hauling in and heating the water, besides. The pools here, they're nice to have but for the men coming in..." A glance slides at K'del and she hesitates before adding, "No offense meant, sir." Best she leap to the new topic, a thing done quickly and with an open display of bemusement. "Just ask, aye? Seems an odd thing, petitioning a rider to play transport on a whim. Not sure I'd be comfortable doing so."

Silarra sets her mug down on the table and sits up straighter with a smirk over to Leda. "Well, it's a good excuse for one of us to take a trip. And bribes often help when you're asking a rider. Trade one of those stupid wooden rings for a ride with some sucker or something." Silarra states before she stands with a smirk. "They're just men. Naked or not. Shells, a few are even nice to look at naked. And on that note? Maybe I need to go take a bath." That dry humor is in full force there.

K'del's answer is a grave, "None taken." He even grins: good will, see! After tipping his head at Silarra, and telling her, cheerfully, "See you at drills tomorrow," he turns his attention back towards Leda. "She's right, though: we're always willing. Well. 'Always'. But often. We like to get out of the cold as much as anyone else, after all." His empty mug is given a longer glance, now, and then he says, "Better go get this filled up. Be back in a few, mm?" He probably will be, whether or not Leda hangs around for more of his - no doubt scintillating - company.

Leda's dark eyes rest on Silarra for a long moment, perhaps as she attempts to weight whether there's malice behind those remarks or if they're simply an extension of the woman's natural temperament. In the end, she sees the greenrider's parting statement and rising to go with a smile. "Barter might be the better option, aye. Take care, lady rider," she says, lifting the mug again in lieu of a wave. The same salute greets K'del rising to fetch another drink; the apprentice seems comfortably rooted in her chair and with both of them standing, she closes her eyes and turns her face into the sunlight.