Difference between revisions of "Logs:A Lot Of Sheet"

Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr

Within the labyrinth of interconnected chambers that make up the inner caverns, this large, long cavern serves both as a crossroads and a comfortable place for weyrfolk to sit, talk, and keep a nosy eye out for who's going where. Colorful, seasonal tapestries add warmth to the smooth walls and reduce echoes, while large niches house clusters of chairs, and a waist-high stone shelf along one wall provides a perch for drinks or work for residents on the go. Worn brass hooks often hold jackets or other outerwear with workboots stationed beneath, the transitory nature of the cavern lending itself to being treated as a sort of communal foyer where snowy or muddy gear can be kept outside of living quarters. Smaller, higher niches at regular intervals hold glowbaskets kept fresh during the daytime and allowed to dim somewhat at night.

Step into the selected off niche of the inner caverns and it's as though you've stepped outside by accident. The high, hanging white reflects the day's constant snowfalls, though the drying sheets fall and flutter limply, rather than create the Bowl's rounded dunes. That's left for the pile in the wicker baskets left over, waiting their turn to be spread, or else folded, depending on the location of the basket; a careful operation overseen by a couple of women to make sure no laundry gets crossed. Designated to a stash with GUEST WEYR chalked across the front, Mave pats down the nearest hanging sheet, smoothing already worked out wrinkles, then pressing a square between her palms to check the dampness before smoothing again. There isn't a lot of moving air to help the process along, not in the winding caverns, but the outer ones have been tromped up with wintry slush and with most of the Weyr packed into the main cavern or nighthearth for lunch, they can get by without getting in the way.

There's always niches and tunnels to pop into, even in High Reaches, one of the last of the Weyrs established, and Brieli is commonly found in and amongst them, though never for too too long; she makes the rounds daily, checking in with and on the caverns workers, asking after progress, current situations, problems, general personal issues, etcetera. Mostly business, but enough of life to ensure that the Weyr still runs smoothly. However, the goldrider is not expected to be stopped by so much white when she rounds the corner - she's mid-step when she pauses and blinks, looks around, figures it all out. Mave is closest, and generally decent for a quick assessment of the situation; with a brief smile, "If only we had some way of creating a wind that wouldn't freeze them solid. Maybe we should hang them in the galleries." The scandal!

Swooping around the sheet to face the new voice, perhaps expecting more of an argument over the linens' placement, Mave's hair bounces in its practical runner's tail. "Oh, Weyrwoman," the greeting is a combination of surprise and general warmth, holding nothing personal for or against the Acting -- at least, in tone. "We try different places every once in a while." Nose wrinkling with thought, she spies over her shoulder at the laundry, being fanned by chatting caverns' workers used to the rounds; there's a lot of caverns for Brieli to walk, and they're not going to stop her for this one. "Don't think anyone's ever suggested the galleries too seriously before." She stuffs her tongue inside her cheek, puffing its freckled skin out, as she thinks. A roll back onto her heel takes her within the sheets' range; she dips to pick up the next one out of the basket, snapping it deftly along her leg to find the corners. "Can you imagine a Holder coming in to see the grand old eggs and getting a face full of rider underthings instead?"

Not looking like she's about to argue - where the hell else is one to dry laundry in the middle of winter? - Brieli folds her arms to look over the sheets, the other workers with a pleasant little nod. Carry on, everything's fine. Glancing back to Mave, "Makes sense. You never know where there might be a fortunate draft. And I wish I could be serious about that, at least now. I'd think it amusing, personally - but I can't see everyone seeing it as appropriate. Perhaps when there's no clutches in the winter, though... it's a long way for you to drag wet laundry, yes?" A pause before, "How are you? Have things been... quiet?" It might be a question on a few levels.

A soft little shrug, manned more by one shoulder than the other, similarly acknowledges the work of dragging laundry as well as it dismisses it; she's no stranger. "No." An honest, naturally straight-forward answer to Brieli's question from Mave, though it has more pluck than irritation. "Not at all, really. There's candidates here, candidates there." Her head tips demonstratively back and forth. When she's got two corners of the current sheet joined, she frees a hand to even helpfully point. "Yours and hers clutched all over." Her neatly trapped corner begins to slip, causing Mave's teeth to latch onto her lip faster than her fingers do the linen. It's too high to hold off the ground for the short girl and she can't back up because the hanging linens take all the space of the cavern, so she jerks her chin at the other side still propped in the basket to keep it off the ground. "Grab the other ends, won't you."

With a faint smirk, "They are a bit irritating, aren't they? Underfoot, I've heard people say. It's actually difficult to find things for them to do. There's always work, but... we are staffed to keep things running, yes? It's not as if there's a need for unskilled labor." But then, Brieli's being asked to help, which might put the lie to all of that; she might arch fine brows a touch, but it's not above her to follow Mave's suggestion and grab the other ends of the sheet, help with the folding. She's done this before. "Is this for the actual guest weyr, or for the Holders?"

With Brieli's quick aid, the sheet comes together in Mave's hands, now at a workable length and she excuses the Weyrwoman with a nod and mutter of gratitude. Mutter, because she's visibly mulling over the other's words; thought pleasantly furrows her brow as she gnaws on the inside of a cheek. The question brings her 'round right quick, and she idly cracks her neck while folding the sheet a third time, "Guest," she decides, after leaning over to spy the cheat-sheet of kohl across the basket, "Flight. Vrianth, maybe? Ruith..." She winces, to not remember, then ceases caring. "I tried to get a holder candidate to fold flight sheets before." A slight curl of her mouth hides -- mostly -- a touch of more wicked amusement past her resigned anecdote. "Holders're over there," a twist of her head over her shoulder, hair following with a red-brown bounce and curl, to a basket in her corner, empty. They must be next to come down.

Nodding at the first name, Brieli confirms, "Vrianth. I heard there were some issues. Something about the infirmary. I'd like a few more flights without the infirmary involved." That's more to herself than to Mave; of course, there was no infirmary involved in Iesaryth's last flight, but that might have something to do with nearly no one being there. There's a little shrug for not remembering - there's a lot of greens - and she smirks a touch. "What, were they worried they'd get infected?" The Holder basket is glanced at, briefly as she notes, "I do hope their 'business' is complete post-hatching."

"Well, fuck a duck," curses the round-faced little girl easily, "That'd kill the mood, wouldn't it?" Herself it may've been to, but Mave illustrates a brief grimace of idle sympathy to hear it. As to that story's poor holder candidate, this caverns' worker holds up her hands, one clutching the fully folded sheet, to around shoulder height, shaking them up and out to both symbolize the unfathomable amount of silliness and her desire to keep it away from her; no more, no more. Tucking the completed linen under her arm, forgetting that the basket's just at her feet in the light of Brieli's asking, she halts, blinking and licking her lips curiously. It's as much a question for clarification as it could be one requesting permission: "Ma'am?"

"Frankly," Brieli says, refolding her arms, seeming amused at Mave's turn of phrase, "There's not much that can kill the mood at the time. But injuries are unpleasant after, I'm given to understand." She's leaning against the wall now, watching the girl and her fellow workers dry and fold white sheets, grinning as she mimes the horrified holder candidate. The question sobers her a touch, and the goldrider explains, "Their 'road repairs'." You can hear the quotes there in her tone. "I'm hoping whatever repairs are happening in the middle of winter will be completed once we have weyrlings. It's becoming rather crowded."

Vienne might look rather like a little doll, with her prim little wool coat and her mittens still on, but she isn't really. And so when, as she's passing through the inner caverns, she over-hears such a phrase as 'fuck a duck', it's with an amused eye rather than a scandalized one that she turns to look for the origin of these words. It's perhaps no surprise that she sees Brieli first, tall and stately with her arms folded, rather than Mave, though a second glance takes in situation of hanging laundry and the resident whose comment it was that caught her attention in the first place. She alters her course a bit, to catch the goldrider's eye and lift an eyebrow. Anything interesting?

Young though she may look, Mave nods with understanding, even appreciation for the frankness. Selective memory seems to have conveniently forgotten that she was born in a hold; helps that she's barely an accent to speak with anymore, except the gruffness of her swearing suggesting the sea, to those initiated. It's not like no one at the Weyr swears to confuse it with. "Honestly, I can't imagine any repairs are 'happening'," her voice lowers to a murmur, less secretive as perhaps generally unused to wanting to share. "It's winter. It's a strange move. It's-- " a gleam of her getting into it is interrupted by noticing another figure approaching. Her lips close and release with a little pop and she diligently unstuffs the sheet from under her arm to drop in with the finished lot. [High Reaches] Ceawlin had the *best* coffee drink on Molokai. But it was one of those frozen style coffee drinks with a lot of cream and sugar in it. But it was so good.

As the bluerider comes into the niche to find the goldrider, the laundry workers and the laundry, Brieli glances her way, quirks a bit of a smile. Perhaps to put the younger woman at ease, or to be polite, or both; "Vienne, I'm sure you haven't met Mave yet? She's one of the people that keeps the place running and your sheets clean. Mave, this is Vienne, Oswinth's rider. They're in the middle of their first Reaches' winter." With helpful facts about each, so they can place each other! Maybe Brieli is good at this Weyrwoman thing. And, quiet enough for only the two to hear, "I'd imagine one requires workers for repairs, yes? Or to survey, to see the road?"

Repairs? Winter? Not making sense? That's about all Vienne needs to clue her in on the topic, though with the way Mave's comment is clipped off, she thinks better of making any mention for now. Instead, she turns a wide, easy smile on the girl, sticking her hand out as is usually part of friendly introductions before realizing that the resident's hands are, um, busy. Plus, Vienne is still wearing those big wooly mittens. "Nice to... " Yeah, that's when the realization hits and the bluerider laughs apologetically as she takes her hand back to stuff the mittens in her pockets, even if that means the handshaking moment passes. "Nice to meet you. And thank you." That much is conveyed with meaningful gratitude and a bright grin, her head tipping toward the girl with the clean sheets. "The middle of our first winter and so definitely freezing." The niceties pass quickly enough and when Brieli brings up this curious road situation again, the bluerider presses her lips together thoughtfully.

Halfway to turning to check on the hanging sheet behind her for dryness is when Mave clues in on the introductions, thumping back onto her heel. "Oh, me, yeah," she greets, rubbing her palm on her leg and jutting out her hand seconds after Vienne retracts her mitten'd one. Dropping her arm to her side, she turns her head between them, bobbing her runner's tail, "Sorry, Vienne, I thought that was the eyebrow lift of 'I need you for something. Get away from that uselessly chatty resident.'" Not that she sounds like she'd have been offended, or even embarrassed, if it was. "Freezing's actually the appropriate thing to be doing, so I think you're on track and all that." Fitting in. A flash of a smile underneath freckles hints at a further camaraderie that goes unvoiced. When her brown eyes flicker back to Brieli, she scuffs her toe on the stone and blows her hair out of her face with a huge, rude exhale. "Dumb." She licks her lips. "Being what I was going to say. But what do I know. I'm not clever on these things."

"No, I think Vienne might just say that outright, if she needed to talk." Brieli glances sidelong over to the bluerider in question, just to confirm, though she'll fill in the blanks, just in case; "I was just wondering if our visitors might be leaving sooner than later, whatever they're meant to be doing here. Their sheets are somewhere in all of this." She waves a hand at all of the hanging linen. There's a flash of a grin for Mave's camaraderie in bearing up with the cold, but as for the rest, "That's one way of putting it. A poor excuse is another, I suppose."

That it would seem like Vienne was stealing Brieli away has the bluerider holding up her hands, palms out, in innocence. "No, not at all. I was just passing and thought... I'd say hello." There's some miming with those hands, a point for passing, a wave for hello, as if her words need to be augmented. And then she folds them together where they won't be quite so talkative. She smiles warmly for that flash of camaraderie in Mave's expression, returning it readily. However, the fragments of discussion about visitors don't release her yet and Vienne's eyes narrow pensively as they slide back to Brieli. "You still don't have any explanation?" The 'still' might be more palpable for the recent changes that have occurred around the goldrider.

Fair enough levels Mave's mouth as to Vienne's propensity for speaking outright, and she rolls her lips together to hear out the dragon rider's explanation just the same. When it's all back to the matter of winter roads, her shoulders rock forward and back in a soft sign of discomfort. "Excuse," she tests out, disliking it. "Not just saying what you want wastes everyone's day." Not so naive as to think the world works in these straight-forward ways -- just grudging in kind of wishing they did. "But if the Weyrwoman can't get a response," she shares a glance at Vienne, lifting her own eyebrows to express their own loss on the matter. Hands clasp at the nearby linen, deciding its down, as she feels over each corner of its surface, then tugs it down to drape against her scrawny body, easily dwarfed. "I'm just gonna sneak into their bedroom and sneak back out."

Brightly, to Vienne, "Hello." Brieli grins the bluerider's way, since that was apparently her purpose in swinging by. "And that's the explanation I have. I suppose I ought to do some more looking in to it, but... I don't see much sway from the party line. Though I wonder if any of the candidates from there have heard much." As for excuses, she quirks her lips a touch at Mave's comment, with her own little shrug. "Perhaps there's nothing they want to ask for so much as look or listen for. And they have most certainly responded, and I hear Azaylia and the Lady Issedi had a lovely tea. But..." She unfolds her arms to lift her hands. What is there to do? "And if you make the bed, it's hardly sneaking, is it."

There's something about Mave's comment about the Weyrwoman not being able to get a response, so plainly spoken, that makes Vienne retreat a little, shown in the faint deflation of her posture, the ducking of her chin. "I'm sure that's not quite it," she counters, though Brieli hardly needs the bluerider's diplomacy just now. Vienne flicks her a look, too brief to convey much but full of something anyway. And then her head cants as she muses over all these questions and pieces of information, letting her imagination spin some alternatives. "Perhaps they just needed a change of scenery. I can't say that winter would be my prefered time to visit, but perhaps it's more about not being there, at the Hold, than being here." Vienne certainly has no idea, or so her smile says as she shrugs afterwards. And she's perfectly content to condone this 'sneaking', which she does by not objecting at all.

Hearing she could be wrong cheers Mave just fine, despite a less considerate furl of her lip at the mention of lovely tea and that, with a deferring nod to Vienne, seems to be that. Until, "Oh, well, I suppose." To Brieli, as she runs her hands over the sheet's first crease, "Though I'm to do it when no one's about, or can see me, or can even tell that I'm there 'cept for the mark of their perfectly done sheets, what as if firelizards did it while gentle Harper music played." Surely, she's spinning a joke on someone else's instructions, though she says it blandly enough to put that into brief, however unimportant, question. "That's proper." She nearly yawns, but the swiftness of her hands at the chore hold none of the laziness or boredom of dozing. "You know," unlike this suggestion, which is thrown out fairly off-the-cuff, with a nagging finger while the other hand tucks the nearly completed sheet into her chest, "It'd be funny if you accidentally threw a party for their farewell, thinking they were leavin' after the Hatching, and then they'd have to be all 'oh... oh, man, no. See. We're not leaving. But thanks for the cake?' Only, by you throwing it, I mean the candidates throw it. Cause. Everywhere." Her eyes widen dramatically and she hefts the sheet up and drops it into the basket contentedly.

Glancing back to the bluerider, "Not quite it, no. I'm still a bit distracted, what with the clutches and candidates and such. And they manage to keep themselves busy somehow." By Brieli's expression, she intends to find out. And though Vienne's alternative has her skeptical, she's not so paranoid that she won't consider it. "The Lady said she's rarely been away from home. It's possible it's all to get her the opportunity to live at the big bad Weyr for a little while. But such an indulgence." With an amused quick of lips for Mave's recitation, she notes, "That's what they're likely used to. Staff seen and not heard, that is." There's an arch of fine brows for the suggestion, off-the-cuff or otherwise, but; "There's the hatching feast. Perhaps they'll take that as one in the same. And some of the candidates do leave after that." So no longer everywhere.

Vienne has a little chuckle for the magical way it seems Mave would prefer to do her work, unseen hands and angelic music. "Are you really?" She can't tell if the resident really is joking or not, or if someone has commanded her to be invisible during her chores. It's hard, however, to worry about such things when the idea of a fake farewell party comes up and it transforms the bluerider's quiet chuckle to a brighter laugh, a hand coming up to hide her gaping smile. Okay, so she might seem just a touch scandalized now, even if it's just for how, but there's a certain glint in her eye that likes it. "That's terrible," she laughs, shaking her head at the trick of it. "It's strange to have them here but... Maybe they just don't realize it. The road could be an excuse," and the little lift of her brows claims that she surely thinks it is. "But they might not realize it's possible to overstay their welcome. Some people are so used to being indulged, they don't even realize it's happening anymore. Or maybe it's some of that indulgence they want to escape." Distracted by her own ideas, Vienne's glance slips off toward the side, blindly following a group of passersby.

Big brown eyes gape, whereas she manages to keep her mouth politely closed while glancing between them with that delicate furrow of impressed thought across her forehead. She's fairly successful at hiding a disorientation that the idea's being discussed, though Vienne lightens the bit, allowing her cheeks to perk as she emphasizes, "Embarrassing, yes?" Accidental parties! That would be ridiculous. "You know, I've heard that before," a finger ticks off the air in front of her, rewarding Vienne a second time. "People speakin' though the Weyr were an exotic getaway. Some think it's weird, but I rather imagine it's like wishin' you were full of curlies instead of straight hair. But then your curly-haired friend says 'don't be dumb, you flat-haired twat, I'd shave off all your hair during the night after getting you dead drunk and stick to my own head, if I could.'" Her nose flares in a dainty little sniff and she matter-of-factly slides the next sheet off its hang. "Fun of what you don't have."

"You have a point, Vienne. And I suppose it could be said that some of them made their home here for some time. Perhaps they missed the Weyr they so abruptly disappeared from?" Brieli arches fine brows questioningly at both women - it's possible. Anything is possible. The Weyrwoman, first standing against the wall, then pushes off it, arms unfolding as she does. And though some of Mave's language, used so casually, might purse her lips, she says nothing about it. "Everyone wants what they don't have, I suppose." Same thing, said a bit simpler. "And I should continue on my rounds. If you don't mind -" A glance to the bluerider, "Could you come with me? I've a letter I've left with some of my other work by the Headwoman's office, I'd like to see what you think of how I've put something."

Vienne mouths the words 'flat-haired...' and doesn't get further than that, blinking a bit even as she grins. But with another bite of her lips, she nods in agreement to Brieli's comments. "It's true, though. People always want what they can't have, wonder how the other half live... Cliches like that." She pairs a quick laugh with an even quicker shrug and starts to unfasten some of the buttons of her jacket, having been in the caverns long enough that she's finally feeling a bit warm. The goldrider's request gets another nod and her grin might even seem rather shy and flattered. But it's to the resident she turns then and this time she does hold out a hand to shake, fewer obstacles in the way for attempt number two. "It was good to meet you, Mave. I'm sure we'll see each other around."

"Keep on, Weyrwoman." Not a command from the lowly resident, so much as Mave's gentle appreciation for work on-going, even with her raised eyebrows of slight marvel to imagine all that Brieli must have ahead of her. She can have it. The younger's happy bending the sheet in front, setting it aside just for the pleasantries. "And you, Vienne. And my respects to Oswinth, I think I forgot that before." Meeting the rider's hand, she shakes heartily, with a bit of a squeeze. Healthy, and almost challenging, but for the girl's enthusiastic smile. "Will you? Will you really see me?" An actual challenge, tipped with the curled flavor of her lip, "Or will I roam unseen, leaving sheets in my wake? Anyway, bye," just as quick, she's burrowing back into work, dropping now to start on the SPECIAL WEYR basket. "Don't freeze!"