Difference between revisions of "Logs:Wise Words, Little Change"

Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr The kitchens of High Reaches Weyr are contemporary, spare and simple in design, free of clutter. The sleek surfaces are a hallmark of the current Pernese style - polished marble and granite, metalwork, and woods. The background colors of the kitchen are light and neutral, allowing for bold tone accessories to take center stage. The lighting and entryway opening treatments are low-profile and minimalist. The hearths have been fitted with modern equipment and simple, sleek metalwork to add an up-to-date touch to the heavily used areas.

The polished granite counters are long and wide, allowing for ample work space. The woodwork is lightly stained, bringing out the natural hues in the grain. A simple cording, in the same bold color as the accessories, borders each cabinet door, accenting the room. Two large islands break up the kitchen into work areas: baking center, butchery, vegetable and side center, and the serving organization center. The floor is tiled with large marble squares, each section carrying a different, yet complimentary color to direct the flow of traffic. The entryway into the Living Cavern has been expanded to fit two doors - in and out - each marked with its own identifying color that matches the tiles just inside the doors, to keep collisions from occurring. The cavern itself has been expanded to include breakfast nooks, where residents can sit to eat, while leaving the main kitchen free from tables and the traffic that accompanies a busy Weyr. Obvious exits: LIving Cavern Lower Caverns

Sasha comes through the hides covering the doorway from the lower caverns. Sasha has arrived.

After lunch marks the busiest times for the kitchens as preparations go underway for the evening meal in one part of the large caverns, while the bustle of cleaning the various utensils and dishes in another. Rarely do these two sides collide, except when a slender girl is tapping her toes idly as she awaits for the cutting knives to be cleaned. Slanting the fair-haired candidate in question a dubious look, Satiet mutters disdainfully, "You can wash them faster than that, you know. If you're not a complete toady, you won't cut your hand or fingers off. How do you even manage to breathe without being afraid, Joilin?" Pink-clad arms cross over her chest, blue gaze quick to skip over the other candidate workers in the caverns.

Some of the others have left off, too, in distraction. Slow paces for staring eyes. Several are watching, some with curiosity, some with dread, and some with a little bit of hope, the following contest between man and beast. As of yet it stands at a tie: Sasha has brought his sneering face to the limit of a spit-dog's chain, and with only a hair's breadth between them, they hover by, with lips peeled equally from their gums.

A fight-picking young man mean as a bull. He's tall for his age, wide in the shoulders and chest, but baby fat still clings stubbornly to his physique. Around seventeen, he's seen many turns of hard chores. His hands are gnarled from work, callused, and the right's burned. He has a thick rope of dark hair in a braid, and dark eyes to match. His features are broad, chapped from the cold, with a blunt broken nose and a densely freckled complexion. He looks like a brick dressed in fur and tough cloth, with massive boots.

Satiet, in her study of the other candidates in the kitchens, is distracted for a longer moment by the scene between canine and bull-like man. In frustration, a booted toe kicks into the bucket of soaking dishes, and instead of waiting for the knives to complete her chore, she sidesteps towards one of the breakfast nooks, her leaned weight supported by elbows resting along the table's edge. In the background, several other people further from the hearths are cued towards the showdown and noise becomes more muted. An elderly cook, on his way to man the spit, gives the candidate there a questioning look, followed by a gruff assessment, "Either toss 'im up, roast 'im, and eat 'im, or quit your dwaddling. Both'd you'd win ugly contests hands down, so no point in lookin' atcher mirror image."

"Yes sir," says Sasha, his eyes unbudged from the dog. He's waiting for the slobbery animal to look away first. It does. With a smirk, the young knave goes back to his chores, shoving one of his compatriots while nobody important is looking, the sort of boneheaded scullions that a hard personality attracts. Sasha has been an unremitting pain in the arse. Most are hoping he gets gored on the sands. "This is stupid," he mutters, to nobody in particular. "What are we training to be, the dishwashers of Pern?"

Carianna comes through the hides covering the doorway from the lower caverns. Carianna has arrived. Carianna hums lightly to herself as she enters the kitchen.

The cook grunts and kicks the canine in the side with little thought, causing the poor beast to yelp and scoot to the sides. Mean is as mean does. "Didn't you know?" Satiet's light alto lifts up, brows tweaked upwards, intrigued. A slow amble brings her near the scallywag, a sharp smile on her lips. "The best dishwashers always Impress, or something equally mundane as that." One hand reaches out to rest against a counter top, her hip settling against the same edge. "You're a candidate," she surmises with a small smirk. "I've seen you in the barracks." Never mind seeing him in action and hearing what various gossips have to say. A hum from the lower caverns exit causes her to glance briefly there, affording Carianna a studied look and a nod.

Carianna A small framed lady of about 30 Turns in age stands around 4'6 inches. Curls of gleaming strawberry kissed with strands of gold are worn pulled up then tucked neatly into a white baker's cap worn while she's working. Green jade studs dot her earlobes. Her jade green eyes are brilliant and deep, their color more dramatic than usual, flecked with drops of gold. Worn proudly on her neck is a small golden apple charm pendant that hugs the woman's throat. A tiny pinky ring of intertwining yellow and while gold cradles three gemstones of red, clear, and blue winds around her left finger. She is wearing a clean grey dress covered by a large cleanly pressed apron with deep pockets. On her feet are a pair of worn work slippers, black in color and also plain to look at, but clearly comfortable. On one ankle is a small golden chain with a tiny heart-shaped ruby that rides along the links. Carrying: Kizzmit Dzzie

Carianna side steps Cook who seems to be in one of her moods yet she smiles warmly to the others she passes on her way to her work station. Moments pass as she shuffles through some hides then looks up again. "I take it your the kitchen aids for today? Hi, I'm Cari. Posted baker here at Reaches. Who might you two be?"

Sasha passes the girl an 'are you stupid' sort of look, and then he sighs a gusty sigh. "By Moreta's left nipple... this is a waste of time." His mouth tightens into a scowl that he then mutates into a smile, saying, as Carianna comes upon them, "I'm Sasha, from Crom. Good to meet you." He'd rather stick his head in the oven.

The corner of Satiet's lips curl up in a disdain that struggles to be kept down. In the end, she succeeds only by virtue of a velvety smile that curves the rest of her pretty mouth, along with a silkenly spoken reminder, "We've met, at the barbecue." It's not her fault that the end turn of the last word is a trifle petulant, as if anyone could forget her. A dark look is cast the other candidate, followed by a disagreeable snort. "You're a pig." And that's all within five minutes of conversation - savvy Sat.

Carianna's smile vanishes just as the hides she held fall to the surface of her work station. "Pardon me?" She asks Sasha, not wanting to believe her own ears. Then blinks when Satiet replies. "Sounds like a love match if ever I heard one." she adds softly to herself then shakes her head with growing laughter.

Without missing a beat, Sasha replies, "I don't know about that, she's not ready for piglets yet."

"No one is," the dark-haired girl retorts, hands sunk into the depths of her pants pockets. "At least your piglets, as if you'd even have the guts to try." Satiet tosses her head and instead focuses her attention on the baker, "Did you need anything, ma'am? I'm sure Sasha would love to assist your every need."

Carianna can't seem to stop laughing as her hand lifts quickly. "Oh no, don't drag me into this. I've a Weyrmate already and a piglet to boot." Then to Sasha she adds, "No disrespect intended but you may have better luck with someone closer to your own age."

Sasha only smiles, somewhat tightly, with his thoughts plain upon his face. He scrubs dishes like they killed his father.

A smirk plays on Satiet's lips, before it pulls into a lopsided sneer. "I meant with your work. He seems to loathe the dishes, and anything else would probably be above his porcine head to fathom, so perhaps you can put him to some more productive work. Minding your piglet. I've heard, for all their lack of manners, pigs are quite clean." A look slides towards Sasha, and she adds dryly, "Nominally." She's just very helpful all around, and though she's also on kitchen duty, a sharp pivot takes her back the short distance towards Joilin and the knife cleaning expedition. But not before she attempts to surreptitiously aim a boot-toed kick towards the male candidate's heel.

Carianna's lips twitch, her laughter now under control. "Ah, I see. Well since you both seem to have so much energy I suppose I could assign you both to carting in sacks of flour and crates of tubers from the storage rooms to here. Though the dishes will still have to be finished. Would that be to your liking? There's only about forty of each to transfer."

It must hurt, but he doesn't show a sign. It goes easily beneath the cover of his tight expression. "I'll do it," he says, leaving off, letting the soapy dishes slide back into mucky water. "You ladies don't want to be lifting anything heavy." The general look he gives the rest of the candidates hither and yon, regardless of gender, seems to include them in that miserable category. "I'll bring them up." Anything to get out of here.

"Excuse me?" Satiet's trek back towards her friend pauses at Carianna's request, and for a moment her expression darkens completely. Feigning ignorance of any pain she may have caused the other candidate, she affords him a look, surprise arcing one brow upward. "Sometimes pigs have charm too. Unintended, no doubt," she mutters under her breath, while publicly she fashions a smile for the baker, "It seems Sasha's got it under control. Did you want anything to drink, ma'am, while we watch him work? Tea? Brandy? Whiskey?"

"No thank you. I've many thinks to take care of before I dare entertain the thought of indulging." Cari replies then nods her thanks to Sasha, though her words were a mere threat not an order she doesn't insist that he not do the chore." "Besides, as I said before the dishes will still need doing. Please don't let me stop you from that."

No matter, unruffled by the decline of her efforts at hospitality, Satiet moves back towards Joilin, a tiny look of triumph in her pale eyes. "I'm not on dish duty. Though, it's a pity V'lano isn't here. He enjoys dicing vegetables and hacking away at slabs of meat." A brief scan is afforded the caverns, as if by looking intently at each person, the bronzerider will show up to rescue her from the mundanity of chores. "A fool for trusting he'd actually keep up his end of the bargain, fegh." Back near the blonde candidate, the toe tapping begins again, as one by one, very slowly Joilin goes through the load of knives needing to be cleaned. "Where are the tubers from?"

Carianna ohs lightly, "You're not? Then what chore are you assigned today Satiet? The tubers? I can only guess Tillek since they arrived with the last tithe wagon. Why do you ask?" Returning to her task of hidework, Cari glances down at her workstation and hmms once again sifting through the pile.

"Chopping." The piles of meat that sit on one of the various kitchen islands is given a dubious look. "Chopping the meat for the stew tonight or whatever night. But in the end it will be eaten." Satiet proclaims decisively, taking the first clean knife that's a likely candidate and approaching the large mass with little apprehension. "Bloodier than flopping fish. Or Moreta's nipples for that matter." Belated amusement, as if the emotion just finds the outlet to surface now that Sasha's gone, follows the man's exit towards the storage rooms. "So Tillek's tithes arrived? Did you see if there were any packages for people that weren't tithes?"

Carianna listens and observes the girl quietly for a moment then nods lightly. "Yes a few were taken and left in the common rooms. Ma and Pa sent a little something for Petrusa. Were you expecting something as well? If so that may be where it can be found." Then a pause follows before she asks slowly, "Satiet, is something bothering you? Something about Sasha perhaps?"

The sun-browned girl nods throughout the explanation of where the packages have gone and purses her lips, "My mother may have sent something, but I'm not sure. Do you know when they'll return to Tillek? Have they returned already? I've something to sen-" Satiet's girlish chatter stops and she looks to Carianna in askance, funny enough, almost a mirror expression of Sasha's own 'are you the dumbest person alive' look. But it's quickly displaced and followed by soothing laughter. "Sasha? He's just an arse, he.." a beat goes by, and a slow smile hints on her lips, "He's quite the troublemaker I've heard. Not seen anything mind, but he's not the sort that I've heard will make it to the end of candidacy." Keeping things deliberately vague, one eyebrow tilts upwards in a knowing fashion towards the journeywoman baker.

Carianna ohs with amusement. "What makes you think that?" She counters while setting the hides into three sorted piles now.

The large cleaver smacks into the hefty cut of beef, sawing movements occurring once she hits bone. Blood droplets splatter here and there and Satiet shrugs, absorbing herself into her chores with a gusto not usually seen by those in the drudgery aspects of candidacy. "The things I've heard would make my poor holdbred mother blush and closet herself for weeks. He's trouble." Her lips purse again and she regards Carianna, "I couldn't tell you, see. It'd be tattling, and no one -likes- a tunnelsnake like that." At the wash tubs, Joilin watches the conversation with interest and shares a smug smirk with the dark-haired candidate.

Carianna winces as she watches the meat being sawed at with the cleaver. Yet something about Satiet's words cause her more pain. "Why don't you put that knife down and come join me for a mug of tea Satiet." she invites. "I'd like to tell you a little story if I may."

Amusement lifts the girl's brows, and wiping down her blood-smeared hands she glances between chore and the baker, coming to a very slow decision. "If I don't finish the chopping before dinner, we won't be eating too well tonight. And I thought you didn't have the time to indulge," Satiet adds, a sudden sweet levity to her intonation. Joilin is given a quizzical look over her shoulder, before the girl's shoulder's straighten backward and she steps towards the baker. "But I've a few minutes to dwaddle, I suppose, before I should get back to chores. "What words of wisdom do you have to impart, ma'am?"

Carianna chuckles lightly. "True I've little time to indulge in alcolic drink but I think this my be important. You seem to have some notion on what qualifies a candidate to be impressionable. That worries me." Stepping away from her workstation Cari heads over to the hot plates to fetch a pot of brewing tea. "I'm not sure if my story could be classified as words of wisdom but I'll tell it none the less and let you decide."

A burst of laughter greets the baker, what little worry in her face disappearing at the first comment. Satiet reaches out a slender hand towards Carianna's, a little dirty from work, but free of blood at least, accompanied by a dimpled grin. "Ma'am, I was teasing him if you happened to catch my talk of dishwashers being the most Impressionable. I'm quite aware it's left to the luck of the sands and the dragons within those eggs." Still, it's hard to hide the smug turn of her lips. "But please, your story, I'm sure will enlighten me completely. I've had little time to ask on the exact mechanics of what'll happen on the Sands."

Carianna returns to the table still chuckling lightly. "Yes the story. Lets see where to begin. Oh I know, once there was a girl who was asked many times over to stand for a clutch of eggs. She was told by all that one day she would become a rider. Everyone swore to this, well that is everyone who knew the girl."

Satiet is silent, a dip of her head indicating that she's both listening and requesting for more. She concludes though aloud, "But she never impressed."

Carianna sets the tea pot down then heads away again to gather two mugs. These too are brought to the main table before she finally takes a seat. Her smile warms as she looks up to meet your eye. "No she doesn't but that's just a small detail to this story. The fact of the matter is that no matter who the person is or what people say about that person has an affect I believe." Cari offers to pour.

"You're wily with your storytelling, ma'am. Leading me to believe one thing and going in an entirely different direction." Satiet remarks, a lack of snottiness in her words. Her chin dips again, giving ascent to pour, fingers reaching out for the handle of the mug. "Continue then, please?" Behind her, Joilin watches the chatting with a little envy but continues to make delicate swipes at the knife blades, as if any moment the sharp edge will turn on its cleaner and make a deep cut.

"Perhaps though that wasn't my intent." Cari replies with a light laugh. "I guess the point I'm trying to get to is You cursed Sasha. I've seen it just as I see he cursed you. Now that in itself isn't anything to get worked up over but..." Cari reverts back to her story to better express herself. "This girl was linked with the golden egg on the sands. Everyone expected her to impress. Those words hurt her I suppose, for she shyed away from the egg. Shyed away from many of the people after a time." Then she looks up and smiles. "Don't let your words make another shy way from you Satiet, or make others shy away from you."

"I've enough friends, ma'am," Satiet begins cautiously, the hesitancy that's reflected in her eyes displaying an uncertainty that's uncommon of her. "My friends have no complaints and I'm quite fond of them, most of the time. But no one's always happy with their friends right?" It may be she's not understanding or deliberately misunderstanding, but her blue eyes stray towards Joilin and a few other girls in the crowd of working candidates. "How does insulting Sasha have anything to do with Impressing? And why was this girl linked to the golden egg or any egg for that matter? No one really knows do they?"

Carianna's smile continues as she explains. "The link was with mere words Satiet. Words that can hurt us from time to time. Words spoken lightly but can be taken deeper than any of us ever let on. Cursing one is hurtful even when done lightly. It can be taken deeper than anyone can imagine. It can be offered jokingly and on the surface be taken jokingly but, deep down it could end up hurting not just the person they are spoken to but you as well."

An 'Is this woman for real?' reaction mars Satiet's shapely brows, but she continues to nod, the smile on her lips gaining an insipid quality. "I understand, ma'am. Which is why I won't speak of the ills he's done." Her fingers clench reflexively at the apron around her waist, drying off the perspiration gathered there it seems, or assisting in maintaining a controlled expression on her face. "I understand quite well, though. Thank you, but I think I should return to the meat. It wouldn't do if there was nothing on the table for dinner tonight." Smiling pleasantly, she inclines her head towards the woman, making sure to take her mug of tea with her before departing. "I hope the rest of your work goes well today, ma'am."