Difference between revisions of "Logs:Bronzeriders With Wood"

Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr(#273RJs)

Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms.

Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them. Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outsde each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves.

Not the normalest of places to pass time, but whatever. There's no one around to complain if N'thei's looking for something, looking for something, looking for something he's not finding. In a crate, in a box, he's scouring a whole row of shelves for that "something," not so very deep in the storerooms.

A'son is there too, poking is noise around in the aisle of things behind N'thei's aisle of things. He picks one box up and rummages through it, not finding anything suitable and pushes it back. Then he's going through another, also with limited success. He's unknowingly getting closer and closer to the other bronzerider the entire time. Finally, he pulls a crate off the shelf and when he looks across he's greeted with the sight of N'thei's face. "Oh well, hello there you beautiful, beautiful man." A'son says in a mockingly-flirty-kind-of-woman's voice.

"Aw hell," says N'thei descriptively, and moves quickly to put whatever-- which turns out to be a moldy-looking burlack sap-- into the gap where A'son's face appeared. This gives him a moment to compose himself, since the moving crate, the sudden face, and the smarmy voice scared the daylights outta him; while coming around the shelves, measuring the steps with a tread that sounds neatly intimidiating, he counters, "Know you lost your girl and all, but them's fighting words, brother."

A'son steps back away from the shelf, laughing. He's laughing quite hard as he stands there with the crate in his hands. It occurs to him that he should probably put that back before he drops it and he's leaning against the shelves when N'thei makes it around the corner. "Oh, what are you going to do? Hit me again?" He asks, amusement still plain on his face. Maybe he likes it? "What are you looking for down here?"

"Maybe," to the first question, though N'thei has to rub his index finger across his perpetually cracked knuckle and give that due consideration. No, probably he's not, decides the quick shake of his head. "Not your business," to the second question, coupled by a renewed search on this side of the shelves. "You?"

A'son casts his gaze up and down the shelves, before situating it back on his friend again. "Are you on a top secret mission down here? Is there something highly important hidden away in a moldy bag that you have to fish out?" For his own search and rescue from the stores, "Hooks. I'm going to make a coat rack." What an exciting life.

Hooks. Coat-rack. "You're such a fucking disappointment." N'thei lacks venom in much the same way that he lacks interest in A'son's self-assigned project. And in much the same way that he lacks any intention of answering for his business at the moment. "Why don't you just ask the Headw--" Pause. Grin. "Ah."

"Right, as opposed to you just wandering around down here poking through boxes." A'son says, eyeballing him. For the half-spoken question, he merely lifts his eyebrows. "Exactly. Why don't you ask the Headwoman to help you find whatever you're looking for? You don't seem to be having a lot of luck."

"Because the Headwoman's a nosy little bitch, and I don't want her to know what I'm looking for, either." N'thei, not so vehement, gives up the ghost and turns to lean against the shelf, satisfied that it groans a little under his weight, arms crossed. "When did you get so damn crafty, anyway. Painting and building coatracks." Derision!

A'son doesn't seem satisfied that it groans under N'thei's weight and carefully takes a step away. A step that will hopefully save him if it falls down. "You know if she does stumble on you down here or someone sees you down here they'll run and tell her in a minute. Then she'll be in your weyr. Waiting, it won't be fun." Prior experience? Probably. He gets an odd look for that question. "Always? I was a handyman before I impressed, if you remember at all." There doesn't seem to be any hope that he does, though. "Really, what the hell are you doing down here?"

Confidence; "They don't fall down." N'thei pushes his back into the shelf a little like he means to prove it, but something way up top teeters and makes him think the wiser of pressing the issue. "Do you think I remember what you did before you Impressed," he asks in a particularly 'have you always been so stupid' tone. What's he doing down here: "Standing here."

"You've got a head full of nothing but meat." A'son comments when he hears the thing teetering. He shakes his head and turns around, rummaging through another box again. "No skin off my nose. You're probably just looking for a bowl or a cup. Or something just as boring as I am."

The head full of meat breaks into a slowly spreading smile and N'thei points out, "You just said you're boring. You know that, right?" God, he must be bored.

A hand goes to slowly rub his forehead and then he just pushes his head against the shelf. "You need some new hobbies, you realize that, right?"

"If I could find a pot and a kettle right now..." N'thei turns, looks up across this giant shelf-- finds none. Damn.

"We'd both be black, got it." A'son says with a sighs. Then he pulls a crate out from the bottom and makes an 'ah ha' noise. He's pulling a bag out and rummaging through it. "Found them."

N'thei puts his hands together slowly. Clap. Clap. Clap. "Can't tell you how relieved I am that you found them. Humor me, how's this going to get accomlished?" From a crate full of hooks, that he leans to peer into, to a coat-rack.

He stands with his bag of hooks. "I don't know, I'm afraid that coat-rack building would be far to difficult for you to understand." A'son intones, another mocking voice, this time one full of fake superiority.

N'thei, scratching the side of his head in a real big-dumb-oaf posture; "Probably would be, but-- like you said-- need a new hobby. Why not one I'm bound to fail at."

"You do not seriously want me to show you to do this." A'son isn't asking, he's telling him. He's staring at him, taking in the oaf-posture and again another sigh comes. He takes five hooks out of the bag and hands them to him. "We'll do it. It can be -our- little project." Undertones suggest that this will look really gay.

Oh, so totally queer, but it's not like either of them has someone to impress these days, right? "I'm so excited," deadpans the oaf, taking the hooks and-- clearly thinking of more productive things he could do with them. Hyah.

A'son fishes out another five hooks for himself and then stands. He starts off walking, taking the two of them into an area of the stores that apparently stores pieces of wood. Go figure? He's all business as he digs around and unceremoniously hands a modest sized plank of it off to N'thei. Then he finds one for himself. Then it's to the tool section. He picks up a couple of things. Mounting hooks and then something that looks like it's going to manually drill holes into the wood. He hands one off to the younger bronzerider. "Now, are you still really sure you want to do this?"

Score. Now N'thei has a big piece of wood (ha ha). All the hooks get set unceremoniously on a shelf beside him while he tests the weight of it, cocks it bat-wise. "What?" he asks, totally oblivious, off in his own world of busted skulls. "Right. Teach."

"It's not a bat, N'thei." A'son tells him, shaking his head. Exasperation is not far away. He finds a table, clearing the things off of it and onto the floor. "Put yours down here. We're going to make the holes before you sink your hooks into it. It'll help them fit easier." Oh the double-meanings that can be thought up from this. He takes the the apparatus from before and uses it to make five neat holes in his plank. Then he hands it over to N'thei. "Your turn."

"Yet." Mumbled, though, in the way of a boy who got chastised plenty for not paying attention in his lessons. N'thei picks up the hooks again, follows along with the end of the wood tapping on a few things while he goes. Thump, tap, thud, so satisfying. The drill... "Come show me how," stud.

A'son gives N'thei a bit of look and then hands the thing over to him. Then he stops and makes one of the holes for him. "You do it like this." He instructs before once again handing the thing over to him.

N'thei's good at scratching the wood up, not so good at drilling the holes. "Skilled fucking labor," he remarks, finally getting one done... two... stabbing himself in the finger once... "There." All set to create the ugliest coat rack ever.

A'son nods his head, attempts to look encouraging. "Okay. It's not bad for a first shot." He picks up a hook and twists it into the hole until it fits snugly in place. "I think you can handle that, right?" He pushes the rest of N'thei's hooks towards him and then starts to twist his own into position.

"Don't fucking patronize me," is N'thei's warning remark. He must have been a joy as a little boy, huh? Hooks, screws, holes. At least this part he can actually /do/. "So this would have been your life's work, neh?"

A'son can't help laughing a little as he finishes putting the rest of the hooks in. "I wasn't actually patronizing you." He takes the device from before and works a pair of holes into the wood. "You're going to need to mount this thing on the wall when you get home. If you want to really use it." There's an odd smile for his question. "Yeah, I guess so. It was more repair work than making things from scratch. I liked it."

Using it never even occurred to N'thei. He's just doing this to annoy his friend-- or like spend quality time together or something. It's about the same. "Wish you could go back sometimes? Easier crap, making junk?"

A'son takes N'thei's coat-rack and in sort of an automatic fashion does the same thing to his. "Sometimes, I guess I do. A little. But I don't know if I'd be entirely happy that way either." He rubs his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what's left for me now. But I'd rather be Nikoth's rider with the potential maybe for something than a repairman who just does this all day."

Coat-rack would be a good new euphemism, wouldn't it? Yes, A'son; drill N'thei's coat-rack, mmn. --Pushing around bits of curled wood from the drill, piling them up, then brushing them all apart in a mess on the table, N'thei remarks, "Melancholy. What's left for you now." Little mocking, but also maybe just a touch of right-there-with-you in the quick look over.

A'son finishes it, inspecting the work on both. An odd look of satisfaction passes over his face. He catches the quick look, smiling ruefully but saying nothing. He picks the rack up and hands it over to N'thei. "There you go, big and beautiful. Your very own coat-rack. No one can ever say you never made something."

"Going to have to beat us both up if you don't stop talking like that," warns N'thei, taking back the rack in a most timely manner. If he liked it when it was just a plank of wood, think how happy it must make him now it's got mean-looking hooks in it! "Mine looks like shit." As in-- gimme yours.

Unlikely to happen as A'son is tucking his under his shoulder in a protective fashion. "Haha, I'll try to restrain myself. But it's just so /hard/." He ducks down to grab the drill from before and quickly moves off before he can be heat in the head with the plank of wood.

At least he can feel the breeze when N'thei flails it through the air at the back of his neck, so cool and refreshing.

There's a definite laughter as he moves off down the aisles with his coat-rack and the tool. More than likely to put one away as he goes to finish his work with the other.