Difference between revisions of "Logs:Range"

>---< Inner Caverns, Fort Weyr(#524RJs$) >-----------------------------------<

  The Inner Caverns are a winding system of tunnels and caverns, both       
  natural and manufactured which shows in the smoothness of their walls.    
  Every commonly used tunnel and passageway has niches carved at regular    
  intervals to hold glows that are tended by the Weyr's residents. At the   
  heart of this labyrinth lies the Commons Cavern, the hub of the Weyr's    
  housing area for both residents and crafters. A tunnel halfway between    
  those Commons and the Living Cavern, that feeds the Weyr's population,    
  leads to the Hot Springs despite its access to the Bowl. A curving        
  passageway connects the main tunnel with the Infirmary.                   
                                                                            
  The Glass Fountain, Fort's bar and restaurant, is around the corner and   
  down flight of stairs off of the Living Cavern. The best way to find the  
  beer is to follow the trail of tipsy folks on their way home, or the      
  echoes of clinking glass and conversation. Well marked with a bold arrow  
  carved into the rock, a broad passageway dives nearly straight from the   
  heart of the caverns and down to the unloading area and beyond to Tunnel  
  out of the Weyr.  

>-----------------------------------<

Clinking of glasses, laughter; it all reaches Casseny peripherally. Around the corner from the main caverns, the healer waits outside the steps that lead into the proper of The Glass Fountain. It's early enough that most who clamber up the stairs back to business in the Weyr are not doing so drunkenly. Still, each is afforded a quick jab from Casseny's gaze before, quite instantly, she loses all interest. She's patient through time, yet a war maintains within her; certain moments, she pushes off as if to leave, chiding, only to return, clicking her heels together as she resettles against the stone wall. Palms to its coldness, overly long legs extended slightly in front of her. She braces; she waits.

The Hematite wingsecond never used to be that frequent of a visitor to the Glass Fountain; he tended to prefer smaller and quieter venues. Still, C'stian has been seen here often enough of late. Perhaps Lilah is driving him to drink, or perhaps he finds it easier to forget their quarrels when socializing with others. Either way, he emerges like a man with nowhere in particular to be--or rather, someone who wants to be anywhere but one particular place. As if he were looking for a distraction, or an excuse to avoid the junior weyrwoman.

Sight of C'stian lights in Casseny's eyes, a solid purpose shaped like a person. She thrusts off her wall position, messenger bag thumping against her leg, and strides in a direct line towards the wingsecond with a rallying toss of her head. Previous encounters may've seen her staring at the Hematite rider with unsettling dedication from afar, but she draws near him now, having arrowed in on his aimlessness-- rather than determination to be somewhere, on time. In she sidles, filling the role of distraction with a soft pull of her lips short of a smile yet suggestive of one. "C'stian. A moment." As in: you seem to have one, and now it is mine, but thank you.

"Hm?" The Hematite wingsecond turns, clearly shifted from whatever thoughts had been clinging to him. "Oh. Casseny, hello." He moves slightly to one side, drawing the pair out of the line of traffic, almost habitually. Even as a bronzerider, old 'keep the hallways clear' habits from Healer Hall are hard to shake. "What can I do for you?"

Fresher to the Healer Hall, Casseny follows his lead without a blink. The same old noise filters out from the Fountain stairs, causing her to drop her gaze slightly, chin barely starting to turn to the spot before she aborts the action. Eyes are quick to find C'stian. She's less quick to talk; he's used to it, at least. A couple fingernails scratch along the strap of her heavy hanging bag. "You're a dragonhealer. I've been thinking." A little backwards phrasing; perhaps the cause of Casseny's mouth tugging unhappily, delaying her from her eventual follow-up. "Range is important." Even though she's sighing a bit as she says so.

"Range?" C'stian asks, taking a moment to parse the out-of-order statements. "You mean, range of knowledge for a Healer--people, herbs, dragons--or range that a dragon can fly?" Clearly, he's assuming the former; it's the longer topic, and the bronzerider has settled in leaning against the wall, regarding Casseny with his arms folded in front of him.

A soft squeeze of Casseny's lips, jump of the eyebrows, suggests she's potentially considering his latter interpretation. But: no. She tosses her head, no, and then sweeps her hand across her hair to settle any wayward strand. There are a few. "I'm back home, at a Weyr. There's things I can learn here, better than elsewhere." Abandoning what is now a neatly arranged runner's tail, her hands flight to her pockets, settling in. She rocks a little onto her toes. A bad habit for a tall girl. "Do you mind?"

"No, I'm happy to talk." After all, he doesn't get to discuss his former calling much, outside of the dragonhealing shifts. And this certainly provides a convenient excuse for C'stian not to have to face yet another argument with Lilah again, at least not just yet. Time enough for that later. "If you have more than just a question or two, though, I'm not sure the middle of the hallway is the place for any lengthy lessons."

"No," Casseny agrees, quickly, and her mouth remains in that o for a couple seconds after, distractedly holding onto her last thought. "I've," and she shifts the weighty bag on her shoulder, like it's full of answers. Perhaps something that requires her attention, soon enough. Fingers drop, fanning out against her thigh. "But I'd like to call on you later. A couple times. As my schedule permits, and." Eyes drop, wondering, and when they lift, they're following her body's slight curve towards the Fountain stairs. Laughter. Perhaps C'stian's wingmates. Whether or not, they make adequate stand-ins for Casseny's prompting, "Yours."

The seemingly evasive nature of Casseny's answer causes the bronzerider's eyebrows to raise slightly. "Oh?" he prompts. Still, after a moment, he adds, "Alright. But if you have a few questions ahead of time, I can prepare better answers." This, no doubt, is what comes of C'stian having been raised by a Healer Hall instructor; impromptu lessons are good, but prepared materials are always superior.

While C'stian's talking, Casseny begins to dig in her tunic pocket. As he finishes, she presents him with an overly neatly folded note; its inside is taken with a list of basic topics scrawled in Casseny's unkempt healer's lettering. Good thing C'stian is used to such kind of writing. Anatomy, warning signs, questions on reading body language if the rider isn't there to translate, and on: as she said, a range. Though it's lacking in any real procedures and involves mostly rudimentary knowledge and diagnoses. Casseny stares intently at him as she hands it over. Though revealing no flare of passion for the topic, or enthusiastic anticipation, she's certainly poised on the edge of one feeling or another.

The bronzerider peruses the list thoughtfully, pausing here and there to puzzle through a particularly illegible bit of handwriting with an air of long practice. "All useful topics," C'stian allows finally, "if you're posted to a Weyr. Are you planning to try to work yourself a posting here, or just figure it can't hurt to know?"

"It can be good to know." Not precisely allowing that it can't hurt. There's a second thought there, trapped within the press of Casseny's lips as she tilts her head at him as if to wordlessly convey this addendum. Soon enough: "I'm posted to a Weyr right now. I should learn. If I'm posted to a Weyr later, I know the base. I move ahead." Several soft nods accompany the rhythmic drumming of her short, staccato sentiments. A breath out lowers her shoulders. She takes a new one in, and her chest is buoyed. Fingers patter along the messenger bag strap. Her stare at him now feels expectant.

"Mm." C'stian can't really argue with that. The bronzerider stuffs the list into the pocket of his jacket, then regards Casseny more closely. Not that he knows her that well, but she still seems a bit out-of-sorts. "Everything all right, otherwise?"

Casseny's right hand pops up and she scratches somewhat obsessively at her left inner elbow for a few seconds. "Just a lot to do," is sighed following a similarly long pause. One eye half-squints. She shrugs. It could be her quiet nature, or the fickle one of a teenager; she seems to be done talking and antsy to leave. Perhaps it's time to visit Ebeny. She's been seen in and out of the Weyrlingmaster's office like clockwork since the landslide.

"Well, that's true enough, lately." Still, C'stian looks slightly unconvinced. But after a moment, he tilts his head to indicate the path down the hallway, letting her go without further query for the moment. Maybe it's because he doesn't really have anything to put to the vague sense that she's concealing something, maybe it's out of respect for Ebeny. Maybe he's just resigned to the fact that he needs to go have another shouting match with Lilah. "I imagine we'll speak again soon."

Casseny crisply nods. No extraneous assurances follow, nor reiterations; she's said what needs to be said and conveys a trust that C'stian is up to scratch. Tightening her grip on the messenger bag, she skirts around him to exit down the long, curving tunnels of Fort. Apparently, goodbyes are also superfluous.