Difference between revisions of "Logs:Working To the Bone"

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. Towards the south-eastern end of the bowl, a large area has been cordoned off with heavy ropes. The bowl wall has mostly been covered by enormous lengths of oiled cloth, hiding damage left in the wake of the meteor and eye rock, which fell here.

Despite the lateness of the afternoon and the soon-gathering dusk, the bowl is still aflutter with workers -- convicts, mostly, with a scattering of supervisors and miners. There is quite the assortment of banging noises coming from the work site right up along the side of the bowl, and a steady stream of workers with wheelbarrows are travelling a well-worn path through the snow from the site to an area a few hundred feet away. There Taikrin stoops next to a fire, stirring a huge kettle of what appears to be mortar. Despite the cold, it must be plenty warm work for there's sweat on her brow and her temper appears somewhat short today as she snaps at a con dumping more sand into her pot: "Oi, Ganner, watch it! Yer spilling this gunk all over me!"

It's not so uncommon for the Weyrleader to be seen moving this way, not when there's such enormous work being done on /his/ weyr's bowl. With his riding jacket done up to his chin, and a woolly hat on his head besides, the young man strides through the snow at a brisk pace, his gaze set firmly on the workers, and the visible progress that's been made since they first arrived. Given the chill, perhaps it's no wonder that he sidesteps the wheelbarrows and heads straight for the fire and kettle, just in time for that exchange between Taikrin and Ganner. Amusement rests briefly in his expression, and then, leaning forward, he just /has/ to ask: "Is that sand? For-- sticking stuff together?"

Away from the work, standing around is less of a strain on the body, and Saliqa's depending more on her ability to stay wrapped up. Tight jacket, heavy skirts, hat, and a scarf that nearly drowns out her dark face is the wear of the afternoon. One pink glove sits prettily on a hand, delicate and ignoring that the other hand is adorned in a thicker, brown covering instead. With her attention on the flow of workers in the bowl, she occasionally indulges in a variety of insistent gestures that are quickly becoming more frustrated than polite the more she has to repeat them. She may have to go on forever, too, for all the overseers she's beckoning seem to be ignoring her. After another failed effort, she sticks her cold hands under her arms and glances about, eyes catching on the Weyrleader with a definite down-set of her eyebrows.

Taikrin gives a start at the unexpected voice, turning sharply enough that the paddle in her hand slops a bit of mortar onto the unfortunate Ganner. Ignoring his grumbling, it takes only a quick glance at K'del's knots for Taikrin's expression to flit from irritated to obsequeous. "Aye, sir, yeah. S'mortar. Sir. Using it ter patch up some of the places where we had a rockfall this morning. Sir. Only a little one, mind! Uh, sir." Taikrin is obviously out of her depth-- her smile is all teeth, and her gloveless hands are white-knuckled on the stirring paddle. As Ganner opens his mouth and begins muttering an imprecation, she whirls on him abruptly. "Oi! Go get more snow! S'getting too thick! Git!" Hastily whirling back once more, she offers another tooth-grinding smile. "Sir, happy ta show you how it's made sir. Holds like rock when it's dry. Better than. Sir!"

A light tune raises in the air, probably lost amongst the other noise. But not to the person responsible for it. Vinque, decked out in heavy winter clothing, appears, walking slowly and seeming not to be too concerned about the cold. He has a small cart of things that he's pulling behind him. Tools, clothing, little of this, little of that. mostly construction-type supplies, small things that often break or need replaced, but often take a while to procure replacements for. "Well, well!" he notes. "Seems like I came just in time...." And somehow, with the proper supplies. Coincidence?

K'del is not entirely oblivious to Taikrin's reaction to him, and his knots, and his smile is more or less apologetic for the interruption. "If it won't take up too much of your time?" he offers, a little awkwardly; he looks, for the moment, very much his teenaged turns. "This morning-- no one was hurt, right? No major damage?" He seems quite unable to keep his gaze focused on any one thing, grazing past Taikrin, towards her work, and outwards further still. Saliqa's presence gets an unreadable glance; Vinque's, after a beat or two of silence, an approving smile. "Seems as though you might've," he calls, lifting one hand in the man's direction.

Saliqa's quest is clearly a futile one, and she recognizes this with a huff that escapes in a visible wisp of air in the cold. Turning on the point of her heel, she spots the movement that is the trader and his cart pulling up, catches the last of his whistling even beyond the worker's noise. "Hello there!" She greets with a smile to replace her frustration, though a thinner version of that expression gets passed the Weyrleader's way when he speaks up as well. Her wide, inquisitive eyes drop quickly from Vinque to the things he's hauling, instantly attempting to inventory anything that may be of interest to her. Those hands drop from her arms to fold more eagerly in front of her.

"Ahh, no, nobody hurt much. Coupla scrapes, guys too numbwitted to move out of the way. Uh. Sir." A faint scowl flits across Taikrin's face, though. "Wrecked a good pair of gloves digging out, though." Indeed, a bandage is wrapped tightly across the palm of the hand not working the mortar paddle. "S'no bother, though, sir, of course!" At this, the toothy grin reappears. "All I gotta do is keep on stirring here." Vinque's approach is met with some caution, though she cranes her neck to peer at his cart. "Oi, miners send you over with the new gear? Heard we lost a coupla good hammers in there, too, 'sides." Saliqa's approach registers with another wary flick of the eyes, though she does continue to make concerted effort to appear friendly with that jaw-clenched excuse for a smile.

Vinque gives proper respect to K'del, bowing and offering a pleasant smile. "Always good to be needed." He bows as well to Saliqa, but he keeps a careful eye on his wares as well. There are mostly little things, of good quality, things that are small yet easily taken for granted until they are needed. "Hello there, to you as well," he offers kindly, smiling a seller's smile. To Taikrin, he offers a nod. "I wasn't specifically /sent/...but it looks like my coming here was timely, if nothing else. Hammers you say?" He digs in the small cart. "There may be a few...."

Vinque's arrival draws the attention of one of the Miners, too, who approaches in the wake of Taikrin's remark to agree, "We would be interested in purchasing a few hammers. And gloves, if you've any: good, solid work gloves." This leaves K'del to smile brightly at the trader and overseer in turn (the latter still solidly ignoring Saliqa, never mind how close he is to her, now). "Just keep stirring," says the Weyrleader, turning his gaze back towards Taikrin. "That doesn't seem /so/ difficult. Scrapes, though-- that's good. Don't want any real injuries. And... how's it all progressing?" Conversation with convicts is... clearly difficult.

It's the bow that finally sparks a real note of interest in Saliqa's eyes. Her hands go out to the edges of her skirts and she offers in return a curtsy of the finest manner. Too bad the approach of that excessively rude overseer causes her to turn about and attempt to garner attention to herself; unfortunately, her form of attention-gathering is less than pushy, her needing to adhere to certain rules of polite society. Eventually, she surrenders with another dark look. Vinque can have them! Her vague side-stepping has put her, instead, in range of the stirring convicts. More specifically, where she can get a good eyeful of Taikrin. With wide eyes going even wider she blurts out an odd "Ha!" before, shoulders pulling back, her mouth snaps shut. No, nothing here.

Taikrin ducks her head at the approach of the overseer, suddenly shy at his appearance -- even more shy than with the Weyrleader. "Sir, yes sir! Gotta keep it movin' and warm or it'll go all hard in the pot and it won't be no good to anyone sir or for makin' any repairs sir!" She seems to be redoubling her efforts to be civil and friendly, though the effect is most likely less than reassuring. "It's goin', well--" She cuts off abruptly at Saliqa's outcry, eyes narrowing and lips compressing. A look is directed up and down the other woman's frame before Tai quite deliberately turns away, and back to the Weyrleader-- and back with that same false smile. "-- uh, sir, uh... it's going, I guess. Dunno right what them sorts want it ter look like, but we're patching it up all the same."

Vinque nods to the Miner's statement, drawing out a couple of hammers. "Oh...work gloves as well?" he notes, pausing. He leans into the cart again, digging around inside. "I should have some of those, too...." Clink-clank of shovels, tap-tap of picks, tink-tink of smaller tools. Saliqa's 'Ha!' draws his attention sharply, and he stands quickly...to be whacked in the head by the handle of a shovel! "Ow!" he complains, falling back onto his rear in the snow. He rubs his head for a moment, muttering about the 'sharding shovel', and stands, dusting himself off. Then he looks to the miner sheepishly. "Ah...sorry about that...." He returns to digging in his cart, bringing out a handful of pairs of work gloves. "Ah-ha. Here we are...."

K'del's gaze shifts sharply between Taikrin and Saliqa; he blinks rapidly at the latter of them, evidently utterly confused. It's enough that he misses Vinque's shovel-handle incident, though the overseer takes a rapid step back, just in case. K'del's words after that are tentative; "Er-- well, that's good. Glad to hear it. Guess it'll-- end up looking the way it looks. So long as it's all usable, right?" Right? Meanwhile, the overseer, nodding warily, extends a hand in order to take a pair of gloves and examine them. "Got to be sure," he explains. "Quality, you know. Been had before."

Soo... that didn't quite go the way Saliqa wanted, with the pink-gloved hand hovering near her mouth in abashed unhappiness she takes in the glances, the exclamation from Vinque. There's only a quick snap of her head back and forth in vague denial during her examination by the convict. It isn't until K'del gets to the end of his words that she puts out a pacifying hand, palm towards both of them. A little throat-clearing noise heralds her careful, "That was... not how it sounded. I'm very sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." Her gaze flickers to the Weyrleader, now rather beside her, and that politeness freezes some to make room for careful examination, instead. Maybe he has something on his face. "... Sir." A bobbing imitation of the curtsy of before.

Taikrin jumps again at the rap of shovel against Vinque's head; she's become rather high-strung with the all these honest citizens surrounding her, and the Weyrleader here besides. "Oi, sir," she calls over towards the miner inspecting gloves. "'Least me and Ganner and Jory lost our pairs what with diggin' old Saman out this morning, sir. They was stitched out of rotten leather, they were, not tough at all." Business taken care of, she turns an evil eye towards Saliqa, though her expression is moderated somewhat by the smile she attempts to hold. "A'course, not how it sounded. Right." She grunts, obviously unsatisfied, before a crafty look spreads across her face. "Didn't mean nothin' about a girl just doin' an honest day's labor. Workin' hard ta fix that big ol' hole in yer home. Working to the /bone/." And here she brandishes the bandaged hand towards the work area as her voice becomes somewhat heated.

Vinque nods as the overseer takes a set of gloves to examine them. "We'd both have been had, then," he replies with a smile. "Perfectly understandable." He waits patiently for the overseer to finish his examination of the gloves. Meanwhile his gaze roams over to Saliqa. "You're not coming down with something, are you?" he inquires. "This'd be the weather for it, I suppose.... Might want to visit the healers for something for that...." He pats his throat, indicating that the short, barking sound appeared to him that it was a cough. Or perhaps it didn't, there's a bit of something sneaky in his smile to her. He's...staying out of that conversation, though...none of his business....

K'del's eyes are a little wide, and they grow wider still as Taikrin reacts to Saliqa's remark. Instead of returning the merchant's greeting, he takes two rather hasty steps back, ducking his glance from one girl to the other, then back again, and then-- "Of course you are. Doing good work, too, I'm sure. Er-- you'll have to excuse me. Got to--" Do something, apparently, or maybe just make a hasty retreat before things get too complicated? In the meantime, the overseer examines the gloves, and looks satisfied. "Take as many as you've got," he tells Vinque. "And some shovels." The deal is carried out without difficulty: easy business.