Difference between revisions of "Logs:Personal Attention"

>---< Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr(#2176RJ) >----------------------------<

  A passageway hewn into the rock and heavily patched with cement leads a   
  short distance in to the bowl wall, with a door on either side. Lit by    
  regularly spaced glows, the white-washed walls have been covered over by  
  colorful tapestries, wall hangings and pieces of art made from metal and  
  wood. To the left of the entranceway, just a single step inside, a spiral 
  staircase opens out of the wall, leading upwards through the stone.       
  Further down, a doorway opens to either side of the corridor, while at the
  far end, there is a hewn-stone staircase leading up to the residential    
  quarters, wreathed by two final doors to private quarters and the bathing 
  room.                                                                     
                                                                            
  The door leading to the east opens into an expansive room that seems to   
  provide both general working space - with long, bare benches and chairs - 
  and a cozy lounge complete with over-stuffed sofas and a few fuzzy        
  armchairs. Three tall windows are carved into the stone, and offer air and
  light when the heavy wooden shutters are left open, though the lounge area
  has to make do mostly with glows. A hearth at the back of the room        
  provides both heat and basic cooking facilities. The white-washed walls   
  are bedecked with decoration - from quilts, to tapestries, to wooden      
  carvings and metal sculptures.                                            
                                                                            
  The western door leads into another passage, off of which the main        
  workrooms have been built. The loading dock is at the northern end,       
  leading back out into the bowl, with the rest of the rooms leading deeper 
  and deeper into the wall.                                                 

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
  J'sae        M  25  6'2"  wiry, brown hair, hazel eyes                  0s 
  Jocelyn      F  25  5'5"  lean, red hair, blue-gray eyes                7s

Even two-thirds of a turn past Impression, Jocelyn striding through the inner caverns' corridors is hardly an uncommon sight. For former colleagues and workers who used to be under her purview, the once-assistant headwoman has nods of recognition and even addresses a fair number of them by name should they choose to verbally exchange greetings. It isn't often that she works her way into the craft complex, but her reputation may precede her by this point; she prefers to fetch and check on orders herself, rather than send someone else or a message in her stead. It's likely only a matter of time before she'll be too busy for this to continue to be feasible, but her stubbornness continues to win out - at least, for today. This afternoon, shortly before the midday meal, her purposeful gait carries her solidly into the central room of the complex, expression that of someone who has somewhere-to-be. Still, she's at least polite enough when she stops an apprentice to inquire about the status of her recently submitted order; a small, low table she rescued from storage is in need of staining and refinishing, as well as some minor repairs before she can make full use of it in her weyr. Following his directions, she heads in the general direction of the woodcrafters' workroom, halting just at the threshold to try to catch sight of what's being worked on, one boot tap-tapping an impatient pattern.

The door to the cavern is ajar and the sounds a cacophony of ongoing construction. There are a variety of projects underway, some joint and others solo. There are men and women working, some waiting to lend extra hands, and all of it is abruptly blocked by a tall man stepping through the door, not looking where he's going as he calls back over his shoulder, "I'll bring it back with me," to someone within. It brings him stopping short enough to practically teeter on his toes so he doesn't walk into the goldrider outside. There's an instant tinge of blush in his cheeks, "Sorry," even though he didn't actually step into her. And then, "Sorry," for something else, shifting to the side opposite side of the door that she was stepping on, "Did you need--?" to go in, presumably, since he pushes the handle he was closing behind him back open a skosh. He has a bashful smile until he sees her knot and then his guileless eyes pinch shut a moment, "Ma'am," he quickly adds as those hazel eyes come back open.

The weyrling waves off his apology and the address, hastily stepping aside so that she doesn't block his path away from the workroom. "Never mind all of that, " she says briskly, tipping a measuring look up at the tall crafter. "I thought I'd stick my head in before grabbing lunch to see where they're at on finishing my table. It isn't due to be delivered for some days yet, but I haven't heard anything since submitting the ticket to have it brought over from stores. Perhaps you've seen them working on it in there; it's almost five feet wide, with two little drawers, looks a little rough around the edges with character." Pale eyes flick to his knot, then back to his face, expectant.

"Oh, yeah," J'sae answers after a moment, his lips pressed in a way that suggests there's just so much he's not saying. "They're working on it, ma'am. Very excited to be doing you the service." None of that is untrue, and yet, there's more, plainly. "If you want I can go back in and ask Journeyman Dairan when he thinks they'll be finished with it?" Her ticket, then, understandably has been claimed by those with actual Craft knots for the prestige of it, no doubt.

Jocelyn studies his expression for some moments, brow pinching faintly for that repeat of 'ma'am.' "The 'ma'am' is quite unnecessary, I assure you, " she says dryly, tilting a glance toward the door. "I'd rather know that they're excited to be doing good work, regardless of whom it might be for." In answer to his question, she slips her knot off of her shoulder and stuffs it into a trouser pocket, moving to pull the door back open and wave him through it, seeking to follow. "I'd like to see it, if I may." That may very well be true, but her gaze keenly takes in the people at work, their projects at hand before she directs a glance up to her inadvertent guide. "I need to check on a couple of lower caverns tickets. We found a few pieces from common areas that need some maintenance while working on the fall inventory."

"What would you like to be called?" is a practical question and J'sae is a practical man, so he asks it, without judgment. A man like Jase isn't the sort to not follow an instruction from a goldrider whether he calls her ma'am or not, so he steps back through the drawer and ends up drawing a few curious gazes from those who didn't expect him back so soon. "Ah, the lower caverns repairs. I probably have some of those on my roster. If you have the numbers, I can check." It's a pleasant offer before he points out the journeyman handling Jocelyn's personal ticket.

Wordlessly, Jocelyn passes him a crumpled slip of hide that has a couple of work order numbers jotted down, steps taking her on a wandering course past the woodcrafters at work. J'sae might have to wait for what she'd like to be called while she curiously observes the status of different pieces on her way to journeyman Dairan. Careful to peek toward workspaces without disturbing anything present, she permits herself an admiring look for the table she's chosen. "That'll be a nice piece when it's finished, " she remarks affably enough, nodding in its direction.

Dairan is a competent man, and while not altogether happy to interrupt his present work on a cabinet, does so without complaint to inform the goldrider of it's status. Unlike some, Dairan is pleased for the business but not overly concerned with wasting time on niceties. By the time Jocelyn has dealt with her personal affairs, Jase is leaning against the wall by the door, perhaps eager to go but unwilling to take his leave without her.

Jocelyn doesn't detain Dairan overly long; she's to-the-point once they talk progress, thanking him sincerely for his time before making for the door once more. "There were advantages to comparative anonymity, " she grouses once she's back out in the hallway, re-donning her knot with pursed lips. With that experiment a resounding failure, she pastes on a polite enough expression, sticking out a hand for J'sae. "Jocelyn, Aidavanth's."

It's not until they're outside the door and she's reclaimed her name that the man's smile reappears, a shy thing. "Different knots do offer different advantages. We don't often get to choose which knots find us, though." The man takes her hand with only a little hesitation as he makes it a grasp instead of something else trained bone deep and now ignored. "Jase. J'sae," he corrects himself quickly, "Blue Zajeth's WoodCrafter. We're still learning our way around, so to speak. Only a few months since we transferred." He pulls his hand back and offers her her crumpled list, with his new neat scribbles to explain where these work orders are or who's ultimately responsible for them, his own name and jotted numbers by a few. "Projected deadlines only," he murmurs with a tone of apology. "Advantages and disadvantages," echoed a little cryptically, but probably not intentionally.

"No, " Jocelyn agrees, "we don't." Her own grasp is firm, brisk; she extricates her hand around the same time that he does his, studying his new notations. "I can't speak for Jounine, but I'd say that these projections should be acceptable. They won't need them tomorrow." Tucking that list back into her pocket, she regards him steadily afterward. "J'sae, Zajeth's. I appreciate your assistance." Her walk back to the main section of the complex is a slower one than her usual stride, easy enough to fall into step with should he choose. "I hope you're finding High Reaches satisfactory. Where did you say you're from?"

Briefly, there's a sparkle, glitter strewn as so many beautiful stars, and then a flare of blue fire drawing brilliant patterns in the darkness. (To Aidavanth from Zajeth)

To Zajeth, Aidavanth's attention - and interest - are captured by that brilliance, the young queen focusing in on its source with a sense of curiosity. « You're not Olveraeth, » she observes, voice warm and clear, « but you both bring the stars with you. » Hello.

J'sae has brief nods for her agreement, for her estimation of approval, and he does fall into step with her, probably because they seem to be going the same way. "Yes, thank you. I didn't. Say. But I could. Citrus Grove Hold in Southern, originally, tiny place you probably haven't heard of," his words come in a bit of a tumble. It's not nerves exactly, but he seems to realize he's talking too much or not the right things anyway. "I Impressed at Ista. About two turns ago."

« I am Zajeth, » is the only answer the blue needs make to that comparison. « I bring the brilliance of the heavens and the earth, the darkness and its light. » That fire sizzles, pops, and dances from one bit of bright glitter to another. « You are Aidavanth. Your Jocelyn is speaking with my J'sae and it seemed only appropriate that I introduce myself. » And so he has. Perhaps that's all there is to it. (To Aidavanth from Zajeth)

Jocelyn hasn't heard of Citrus Grove Hold, so she gives a small shake of her head in the negative to verify his hypothesis. "I can't say that I've heard of it, no. Ista, though. I've heard that's a region worth visiting. So you're still somewhat new to all of this, too. Riding. Our class graduates in about three months." That last bit is almost absent, particularly as her steps draw to a pause where the corridors outside branch off. Abruptly, "I need to grab a quick lunch and get ready to report for our afternoon lineup. I don't know if you're also headed to the living cavern." She manages to wrap question, fact and couched invitation into a single sentence.

To Zajeth, Aidavanth enjoys the celestial display, polite amusement floating through her mind like bubbles - insubstantial, but present. « It's nice to meet you, » she says sincerely. « Zajeth. » She's willing to converse for a time, if he is, but she's equally willing to withdraw with a pleasant wish for he and his rider to have a productive day.

"Yeah, only a turn in a real wing before we asked for a transfer here." J'sae confirms. "It was a good experience, but not a good fit for me. Zajeth was willing to give up the sun and the sand to give me a chance to be happy." He offers that with a smile that speaks to his obvious affection for his dragon. "I think he might have lingering guilt about taking me from my craft to begin with." That before, "I am, but if you need to go on ahead," it's a polite way of saying 'ditch me,' "I certainly understand. It was nice to meet you, Jocelyn." Just in case she does choose to go on ahead.

« Polite... » Zajeth's voice comes in a whisper as glitter winks into darkness one by one, « ...is boring. Live a little, Aidavanth. We'll talk later. » As if he had some measure of control about that. There's nothing cruel in the way he says that, but rather an infectious love of the fun, of the exciting, of his revel in the vibrant, the alive, the dramatic. He shares that with her, briefly, before the last not-really-a-star point of light winks out. (To Aidavanth from Zajeth)

"I have classmates who would think you're a few glows short of a full basket to give up Ista to come here, " Jocelyn notes, "but I hope your satisfaction with working at High Reaches yields you some happiness. The snow is pleasing to look upon, even if it's as far from warm as it gets." Almost apologetically, "I should. Perhaps I'll see you in there, " and perhaps not, as she's prompt to take her leave with an even, "Well met, J'sae."