Difference between revisions of "Logs:Mixer"

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.

The greenhouse is more or less deserted at this hour. The day's shift is over and most are getting ready for dinner. Some people know this to be a very special hour. Some call it happy. Some call it cocktail. Either way, at least one of those people is present in the greenhouse. There's a wooden tray set on the edge of the mint patch. On the tray are six glasses, a bowl with ice, a mortar and pestle, a tall bottle of clear liquid, and a plate with green citrus sliced on it (and the knife it was sliced with). Tayte hums what sounds like either a sea shanty or a drinking song in a pleasant alto as she works, plucking mint leaves with care and delicacy, the scent pungent on the air.

It might be happy hour, local time, but Alida's not to be found in the Snowasis, nor at some other bar on Pern. This time, she's taking a break from organizing and getting caught up with the Silver Thread lessons that K'zin's slowly been taking up again after his bout of pneumonia...the blonde searching for someplace restorative to her somewhat drained brain. As the keyword is 'restorative,' the bluie soon finds herself stepping into the greenhouse, removing her jacket and scarf then placing them upon pegs near the door, and stepping deeper into the warm, humid place. It's her deep inhale of the fragrances which leads her to notice mint very rife upon the air, curiosity following it up, and leading the weyrling towards where somebody new to her is seen making something out of the rider's favorite herb. Peer.

Tayte turns slightly to deposit the leaves she's plugged into the mortar, reaching to a small bowl on the tray and picking up what looks to be a pinch of crystallized sweetner, dropping it in with the leaves. The finishes her tune as she picks up the pestle and starts to muddle the two together with a practiced roll of her wrist. "Just going to watch from afar?" She never appeared to look at Alida, but nevertheless she seems aware of the former guard's presence. "I don't bite. Unless asked. Nicely." Amusement curls on the warm bronzed face that looks at home in this temperate and humid place, and ocean blue eyes flick away from her work and over her shoulder to find the watcher.

"Maybe..." Alida notes in her typical fashion to Tayte's question, the weyrling's demeanor indifferent and distant, as it often is to many folks she's just meeting. "Destroyin' my favorite plant with an aim?" is clipped back with a hint of stinging sarcasm, the blonde then ignoring the other female's next observance in favor of moving her form along the path...which places her not quite behind Tayte when she looks over her shoulder. She's not in a hurry to get anywhere, but there's nothing really to keep her 'here,' either.

"Destroying?" The blonde looks amused though as she turns slightly more to get a better look at the paler blonde. "You caught me. I'm depriving the Weyr of their winter mint supply." Obviously untrue from the handful of leaves that returned, once the mint is muddled, Tayte's reaching for the ice, using tongs to slide chunks into a glass. The bowl is set back and the bottle is gripped and poured expertly before a tall spoon is used to add the muddled mixture and a lime wedge squeezed and stirred in. "The vintners felt like a change of pace." The drink is offered to the woman. "You're welcome to it, if you're thirsty."

For some moments longer, Alida does nothing but continue to slowly stride along, sniffing at other plants as she does so, though she does hear Tayte's words. It's only after nearly a minute that the blonde wanders back towards the other female, her greens viewing the proffered drink with some suspicion. Where before, she likely wouldn't have accepted something she hasn't seen prepared by an individual she doesn't at least tangentially know, the weyrling now does so, though with some hesitation...eyeing the muddled mixture for some moments. "You first..." is almost-charmingly delivered to the new person, only the bluie's slender smile and that continued look of suspicion in her eyes noting what she's really feeling.

Tayte's amusement is unflappable, at least thus far. The demand for the maker to taste of the drink first is met with a lift of the glass in a 'to your health' gesture and she takes a healthy sip. She lets the drink sit in her mouth a moment, assessing flavor, "Perfect." As usual. The drink is offered again, "Or I can make you another, if you're afraid I might have something you could catch. It is that time of the turn, to be sure. Though I'm healthy as far as I know." If the suspicion is noted, it doesn't show on her face. But the blue eyes are intelligent and she was certainly aware of Alida before looking, so it's a fair assumption that she noticed, especially with the way there's no confusion or protest about the bluerider's demand.

Well then, it's likely not poisoned - intentionally - and Alida almost shakes her head at the offer of a new drink...until she suddenly remembers Waki. Who cares if pneumonia isn't catching. "I'd appreciate it..." the blonde murmurs instead to Tayte's words of a second drink, following it up with a clipped, "Alida; Ilicaeth's."

The first drink is set back on the tray. The tanned blonde sets about making a second drink precisely as she made the first. It's so precise, in fact, that it's easy to guess the practiced hand has had a lot of that practice. "Well met, Alida. And extend my greetings to your Ilicaeth. I'm Tayte." She offers in response. The drink is offered over to the blonde. "So the mint is your favorite, hm? This drink ought suit you then. Is it Ilicaeth's as well?" The drink is strong, and the flavors of sweetened mint and the twist of lime mingle well in the white rum. Some might prefer it watered down, but drinks made for vintners... well, there's something to be said for a career with alcohol and how it tempers a person's drink tastes. At least where vintners are involved, it's a surely a quality rum.

The weyrling watches as the new drink is prepared, Alida enjoying alcohol in its many forms...even when it's being prepared. "Same..." the paler blonde murmurs back, then noting, "Not usually in booze," of mint. After accepting her drink, the contents in the glass are peered at somemore, the woman then shrugging softly and tipping it up towards her lips. Sniff...sip. Blink. "Mrm...different. Not somethin' I'd wanna have often, but fer a change...not bad 't'all." More sipping allows the guard time to study the other female, which leads into her clipped, "Herbalist?" Since she's hanging out in the garden, and all.

The woman's answer didn't glean the information Tayte was hoping for, so she asks more directly. "Ilicaeth is-- a green? A blue? A brown?" Beat. "Bronze, maybe?" A brow lifts in amusement. "So what is your usual drink of choice? When they make this in the bar, it's watered down." She nods to the drink in question. There's a shake of her head then, "Bartender." Though she hasn't, certainly, been seen tending bar in Snowasis as yet. "Or was, in Ista. But I suppose there's some knowledge of herbs that go with that. I know enough to not destroy your favorite herb," she teases with a grin, taking up her own glass.

"Bronze-blue..." Alida clips off without a hitch, taking another sip of her drink, feeling the warmth of the rum and the coolness of mint trickling down her throat with her swallow. Mmm. "Choice 'n convenience'r two different beasties..." the weyrling clips off, remaining silent as to her favorites and regulars in choice of drinks. "Ah...guess it makes sense," she's left to note at Tayte's revelation of her career path, the blonde peering all about at the greenery that surrounds them, soon drifting her gaze back to more present company. "Why the shell would y'wanna trade Ista fer here?" Indeed.

"Yes." Tayte agrees readily, "I asked about choice. Any drink in the world. What would you choose?" She reaches up to flick a lock of her blonde hair out of her face, the whole thing pulled back in a messy up-do. "Blues are my favorites. The best colors among blues, I think. I mean, the greens are fairly nice too." Then there's a shake of her head, "Some days, usually the cold ones, I ask the same question. Mostly I just needed a change. This is just about the biggest change there is. I take it you're not from here? Seems the winter doesn't suit you any better than me." It's an educated guess based on the verbiage of her words, no doubt.

She ponders that more direct inquiry some, Alida sipping from her drink in the meanwhile, her pacing starting up again, though she doesn't really get far from the bartender. "No single one sticks out t'the exclusion uv' others," the guard finally answers. "Some days whiskey, others mixed drinks with rum..." Shrug. With Tayte's words of liking blues (and greens), the weyrling notes blandly, "And when yer talkin' ta' bronzers, brownies, likely those'r yer new, fav'rite colors." Smirk. "Fair 'nuff..." is noted to the former Istan's reason for choosing Reaches, 'lida then making a darkly humored face and shaking her head. "Been here all m'life." Her very fair skin might tell that particular tale. More sipping of her drink happens, the not terribly-interactive rider brushing one of the shrubs she passes by with a hand, which is then lifted to her face so she can sniff at it. Nose-wrinkle. Sage and mint don't mix well.

Tayte absorbs the bluerider's answer of drinks with a simple nod, but then, over the brim of her glass, she has cause to arch a brow at the accusation. "Do I look like the kind of woman that needs to stroke egos or otherwise perjure myself to make friends?" With her looks and easy manner? Not likely. "If so, you're not giving me enough credit." She listens to the correction while consuming her own drink in swigs that are not exactly delicate. "And you stay because you Impressed here? Or?"

"Try not ta' judge a book by its cover..." Alida notes just as dryly as before, the taking the time to sip her glass down to the 2/3rds mark. As for those next inquiries of Tayte's, "You sure ask a lot uv questions," is her own answer, 'lida riposting back, "'r you a closet alcoholic, like I hear enough bartenders are?" Sip. "Wait; 'r you the child uv an alcoholic family?"

"I don't know that you could find many people who choose a career like mine without liking their drinks well, so I suppose it depends on how you define alcoholic. I'd not say I'm in the closet about anything though." There's an amused smile from Tayte over the edge of the glass. "My father was a wine steward, and drank naught else that was alcoholic, but not everyone likes variety. "And in case you haven't noticed, bartenders also tend to be person-people and you're the only person here, so you've the great fortune-" This is said with a playful twist to her alto, "-of having my undivided attention. I'll give you a question for a question if you'd rather keep score."

Something in Alida approves of Tayte's straightforwardness in speaking of a subject that's often taboo, the paler blonde nodding fractionally to the bartender's answers between sips. "True enough..." the bluie murmurs of 'tenders usually being people persons, the other woman's next words earning her a both sarcastic and direct, "Well then, I suppose it's time fer me t'get my ass in gear." A lift of the remnants of her glass to Tayte is followed by 5 deep swigs that finish the thing, the weyrling stepping smartly towards her conversational companion then settling the glass down on the tray beside her. "Maybe y'll be lucky enough ta' find employ in the Snowasis soon." Beat. "Thanks fer the drink." And, much like herself in enough other situations, Alida simply pivots about, and strides off deeper into the greenhouse.

If Tayte is surprised by the rather sudden departure, her face shows no sign of it. If anything, her smile broadens a little, lifting her glass again toward the paler blonde as she goes. "Maybe so. Anytime, Alida." It's a congenial farewell. She remains unrushed, sipping on her drink and finishing it off before she's making up the other glasses to presumably go along her way back to the waiting vintners.