Difference between revisions of "Logs:Crafterly Introductions"

Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr

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 hte northern end, leading back out into the bowl, with the rest of the rooms leading deeper and deeper into the wall.

It's another of those cool, damp spring days - the kind of days High Reaches has been getting an awful lot of, this spring. Given the way the weather is, more crafters than usual have elected to eat the bits and pieces available in the complex's lounge rather than head over to the caverns for lunch - enough crafters, in fact, that they've spread beyond the lounge area and into the work area at the other end of the cavern. Madilla is perched on a bench at one of those long tables, eating her bread and stew quietly, while not far from her, a group of weavers and smiths mutter loudly about how neglected the complex is; how the weyr isn't looking after them properly.

If people are going to mutter loudly, they can't really take much offense to passers-by butting into their conversations. "If you want the Weyr to take care of you, I'd suggest finding yourself one of those giant, fire-breathing accessories that riders seem to find so stylish these days." Monti doesn't bother hiding the sarcasm there just under his otherwise serious tone. So he's possibly not interested in getting himself involved in an actual conversation about the Weyr's shortcomings insofar as the complex is concerned. Regardless, he settles down near enough to keep listening to them, which puts him rather near Madilla. "Afternoon," he says to her out of basic politeness before taking a bite of his own stew, sans bread.

That particular interjection even lifts Madilla's head from her meal, gaze tracking sidelong towards Monti and lingering long enough that when he greets her, she's still gazing in his direction. "Afternoon," she agrees, with a note of genuine warmth to her tone. The group of complainers scowl in Monti's direction, but otherwise ignore him in order to continue on about the vital services they offer, the promises that were made to their halls-- and so on. Made in a low voice, Madilla's further remark to Monti is amused. "Some people can always find something to complain about, don't you think?"

"Without a doubt. I think some thrive on being able to complain about something or other. Becomes necessary to their own wellbeing." Monti lifts his gaze to look at the woman with a bit more invested in actually seeing her as a person rather than just another faceless crafter. "I'm assuming that their concerns have been voiced to more than just themselves?" As in people who might actually do something about it. He doesn't seem all that interested in asking them but it's always possible that she might know.

"Precisely," says Madilla, who turns her attention just briefly back to the complainers; she shakes her head in their direction, looking-- not pitying, exactly, but close. Glancing back at Monti, she confirms: "I don't believe they've made an official complaint, as such, but it would surprise me if word hasn't spread. I don't know; it all seems-- I just don't see that they have that much to complain about, really. I find the facilites here excellent." Setting down her spoon, she offers a hand: "You must be new, I think. I'm Madilla, Journeyman Healer."

Letting his own spoon settle into his bowl, Monti accepts the offered hand, his grasp possibly less firm with her than it might be with another man. "I am, indeed. Just a bit over a seven now." He smiles. "Monti, Journeyman Tanner." With introductions out of the way, he glances over at the complainers again and nods his head. "From what I've seen, they do seem quite adequate. I hadn't actually expected any curing facilities at all, so that was a pleasant surprise. Fortunately I haven't had reason to tour the infirmary so far." He smiles again, neatly trimmed beard emphasizing the expression.

Madilla's grip is not weak, exactly, but nor is it the grip of a forcefully dominant person; indeed, it matches the generally warm, friendly demeanour she projects via other visual cues. "In that case, welcome to High Reaches," she says, brightly. "There are all kinds of facilities here you wouldn't expect-- why, we even have a greenhouse for growing herbs in. Personally, I've no complaints, though I grant you, getting across the bowl in the middle of winter is not always pleasant. I hope you've no reason to ever darken the Infirmary's door, but if you do - well, our facilities are excellent there, too. Where were you before here?"

"Thank you. I have seen the greenhouse. Only briefly, though." It would be difficult to be here for too long before one started exploring their relatively immediate surroundings. "I can imagine winter is probably not too pleasant all around," he admits, picking his spoon back up again to fish out a pieces of meat. "I was at Crom. What about you? Have you been here very long?" He takes the bite of his stew but his attention is clearly focused on the woman, curious.

"It's beautiful," is Madilla's happy opinion of the greenhouse, her eyes almost-but-not-quite shining with joy over it - though that makes her surprised shift of expression all the more noticeable as he mentions Crom, even if it's not an outright negative response. "Crom? Really. I suppose this must be quite a change, then. I've been here - oh, more than a decade, now. My mentor was posted here when I was an Apprentice, and I accompanied her. I'm from a little cothold near Peyton, originally."

The shift in Madilla's expression is obviously noticed, and noted, though Monti doesn't seem to be inclined to make mention of it. "It is a change," he allows, his smile somewhat amused now. "But I imagine it's quite a change for any person moving from Hold to Weyr. It must have been quite a change for you, moving here from a little cothold near Peyton. Originally. And you've come a long way, Apprentice to Journeyman." Despite being here for more than a decade, suggests his underlying, though not unkind, tone.

It's probably a good thing Monti doesn't mention it: Madilla's cheeks have already turned faintly pink. "You should have seen me ten turns ago," she says, focusing on that latter conversational thread, which is clearly rather more comfortable. "I'm afraid my home hold is very different indeed; I thought Healer Hall horrifying enough. And then the Weyr--" But she smiles. "It's a good illustration of how we can become used to anything, I suspect. The Weyr is home, now. You're Crom by birth, I take it?"

"I have no doubt that would have been worth seeing," says Monti with a laugh. "But you must have been quite young yet. I think youth helps ease those sorts of transitions. I always figured that was a big reason they take candidates when they do." Monti takes another bite, thoughtful, but when he's swallowed, he's grinning over her last question, "Only if you won't hold it against me."

"I was thirteen when I arrived at Healer Hall," confirms Madilla. "And fifteen, when I arrived here. Very young. But it was for the best. I suspect you're right: it's more difficult to change attitudes, the older one gets." Her pink flush makes a return, and she lowers her gaze back towards the remains of her meal for a moment before saying, quietly: "I am sorry about that. No - of course not. It's simply that we don't see many people from Crom, around here. I don't take a position on any past issues, of course, but it's hard to miss entirely."

"It's quite all right, Madilla. I take no offense. No apology necessary." Monti smiles as though to emphasize that point. "I'm a tanner, foremost. That was my choice. It's much more difficult to choose where one's born." That's an attempt at humor. He's clearly just as aware of past tensions between Weyr and Hold as anyone. "I hold no ill will to my Hold. Or to the Weyr." Though he does seem to have opinions on the latter that he might not have had if he weren't from the former. "But this is my home now."

Madilla's relief is obvious, and her smile genuine. "I'm very glad to hear that," she tells the tanner, firmly. "I think it's important, for making a posting work: being willing to consider a place home, even knowing that it might not be forever. Of course," her expression turns wry as she continues, "it's always hard, knowing that one might get used to a place and then be taken away again. Still. I suppose I've been lucky, thus far."

"Such is the life of a crafter," returns Monti, the feigned tone of a hard life betrayed by his smile. "But perhaps they'll keep you here indefinitely if that seems to be in everyone's best interests. Their choices do seem a bit foolish sometimes, in who to move and who not to." Like him, maybe? "But I have no doubt they think they have good reasons for whatever choices they make. And you seem to be doing quite well." If her demeanor is any indication, at least.

It's a pity Madilla is not the type to ask potentially prying questions, for all that she looks, for a moment, as though she'd like to. "Indeed," she says, with a low chuckle as her hands drop from her now-finished food towards her lap. "I don't begin to understand their reasoning, most of the time, but yes: I trust them to make the right ones, even when we ourselves don't necessarily understand what they are. I hope you'll be happy here. I have been-- I am. It's a lovely place to work." Her gaze slides towards the door, and a moment later, with obvious reluctance, she says, "I suppose I ought to get back to work. But-- if you need anything? I may not be Headwoman's staff, or anything, but I do try and help out around here, when I can. I hope you settle in well."

"That's good to hear." The nice things she has to say about the Weyr, that is. Monti follows her gaze toward the door and he's quick to say, "Right, of course. I didn't mean to keep you. But thank you. Really. I'm sure I'll be able to find some excuse to speak with you again." That's offered with a warm smile. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Madilla."

"Oh, no," says Madilla, hastily. "I'd have extricated myself sooner if I'd needed to go, then. I'm always glad to be able to engage in some light conversation over lunch." Her smile is equally warm, and utterly genuine, as she inclines her head forward and rises to her feet. Her dishes gathered, she adds, over her shoulder, "And you, too, Monti. I'm sure we'll run into each other again." Then she's off: depositing her dishes, and exiting the lounge for the corridor and workrooms beyond.