Difference between revisions of "Logs:Lessons In Fabulosity"

Brieli and Iesaryth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

This hollowed out bubble cavern is large enough to fit at least three large dragons, the immensity dwarfing what little furniture is visible. A small portion of the room contains a personal bath, enclosed by a carefully carved out strip of rock wall. Faint tendrils of stream waft from the corner, permeating the immediate area with a merging of warmth and cooler temperatures.

In the outermost room, a large stone table is centered in the entranceway, five chairs of wicked wood surrounding it, atop it a bowl of seasonal fruit. Nearby is an old elevator-pulley trap door to the kitchens - rusted, but coming back to life. The further corner forms the ledge entrance; nearer the baths is a grouping of stands and ceiling hooks that hold a collection of lush, green plants and hanging brightly coloured glass beads. Just next to the greenery is a large glassed-in bookshelf built into the well - only holding a few books and keepsakes - as well as two large, cozy-looking armchairs.

Behind a curtain made of more brightly coloured glass beads is a smaller, blue-wash walled room, one that is mostly filled by the big bed, made up in shades of blue to match, and lots of pillows. On the wall over it is a large, beautifully made quilt, its deep blue oceanic tones broken only by the gold of sunbeams in rounded patterns, circling sunbursts in shades of blue. At the foot of the bed is a ornately carved chest that matches the sweet redwood wardrobe that stands along the far wall. A short tunnel from this room leads into another that is a little larger, and contains an ornate desk and set of shelves that are both almost too neat to be believed - a cozy, private study nonetheless.

Firelight is bright and drums are loud in the brisk 'Reachian morning, reaching out to Iesaryth with a firm, « We are coming over. » It's not much of a warning and even less of a request, the brawny queen leaping onto her sister gold's ledge. Riderless. No, Azaylia's invasion is a bit more polite, "Brieli? Are you up?" She calls from the weyr's proper entrance, "I brought breakfast." Brunch? Does the other Weyrwoman dare let her enter, as cheery as she sounds?

One hopes that both queen and rider would only do so when there's room on the ledge and no visitors in the weyr, but at least there's neither today. Iesaryth is only vaguely watching the bowl this morning, only half-awake in the warm sunshine. It might be chilly for the people, but the day is good enough for dragons, good enough for sunning. There's space and sun both for Hraedhyth! As for Brieli, she's usually up relatively early, and today is no exception; she's in one of her armchairs, reading reports or something equally exciting, boots kicked up over the arm and dangling. Looking up, pleased for the distraction, "Do you ever visit someone without food?" It's amused. Not that she'll complain.

With no sign of a certain Fortian bronze, of course Hraedhyth would be so bold. Then again, when is she not? With a pleased growl she'll go about tucking herself in next to Iesaryth, sharing body heat as well as the sun. "Now that doesn't sound very polite." Azaylia answers with a soft laugh. "Mama says never visit empty handed." And she isn't. A thick binder is tucked beneath one arm, the other carrying a basket of muffins and dried beef. A large thermos of klah, some sweet things to spread on toasted bread. All these things will be placed on a table nearest to Brieli, "Not more transfers?" Not that she sounds too against the idea, mostly teasing.

Iesaryth has none of her rider's issues with affection, so gladly resettles herself with the darker gold, brighter and lankier for Hraedyth's shade and build. Quirking her lips a touch, Brieli waves towards the big table as she unfolds from the chair, tossing the hidework in it. "You have an excessive idea of politeness. And no, not more, not yet. I'll let you know, though, so you can make up the baskets." Rolling her eyes, with a shake of her head, "I think I've met most of them now? A few aren't bad-looking. The one we interrogated... not bad at all." There's a poke for Azaylia's binder-arm, a significant look.

Azaylia is all too happy to place the food on the familiar stone table, picking up a big, fluffy muffin. "I like them to feel welcome." That's all. Her smile is hidden behind a bite, muffled words somewhat stubborn, "He seemed nice." To look at? Maybe, but she's far more interested in showing Brieli the thick binder beneath her arm. "Mm!" Muffin is held in her mouth, both hands used to reveal the lavender dyed cover and the Weavercrafthall's insignia. With a quick flick through the neat, copied pages, it's obviously a winter catalog of sorts. "I thought you might want to see." Though that might not explain why she's trying to ply Brieli with baked nummies.

"I'm sure that it helps." Brieli goes for the thermos before anything else, but Azaylia and her muffin do inspire the other goldrider to find her own. Another eyeroll for 'nice', but muffin and klah both forestall any reply. But the catalog seems to have her interested - once she's finished with her food, "I've seen some of this, but not all put together. Have you been to the Weavercraft? Are you looking for something?" Picking off another piece of muffin, she'll take the binder to put it on the table, flip it open - easier for them both to look. Wrinkling her nose, disappointedly, "There's an awful lot of brown this turn."

"Yes." Azaylia answers with quiet excitement, "And, yes." And thus, her dasterdly scheme is revealed. "I thought about just buying something there, but... You're a better dresser." Than she? More like the whole weyr. "I thought you could maybe help me pick something out. Something... Uhm." Yes, now would be an excellent time to quiet herself with chewing as she tries to find the right word. "Something that might catch someone's eye." Her nose doesn't wrinkle, though her lips do purse. "Something not brown." It doesn't work with their complexions.

Flipping through the pages with shifts in expression that Brieli usually doesn't allow herself, but it's clothes, so it doesn't matter, she grimaces, tilts her head thoughtfully, purses her lips, nods slowly now and again - and very rarely, looks... acquisitive. Perhaps a bit guiltily, "I like clothes." She does. There's proof in the bedroom beyond, the wardrobe that might need a mate sooner than later. With a sidelong glance to Azaylia, "Someone in particular? Or just generally? And you know that... the Weavers are meant to do that, yes? It's their job? And what do you think of this dress?" A long finger taps on a sketch - it's black, which she doesn't have yet (if Aza pays attention to that sort of thing), but: "Do I need another dress?" Need.

Muffin held up to her lips by both hands, Azaylia nibbles thoughtfully while peering over the baked good. "I know you do." A happy mumble, smile heard rather than seen. Slow to answer, "Nobody, really. But, it's been... I don't know. I want to try something different. Something like what you wear." Which Weavers might not have a reference for, no matter how much shopping Brieli might do. "I trust your opinion." As for her own, she lowers her brunch and peeks. "Ooh. That'd look pretty on you. With your lips all bright red?" It's not a subtle suggestion, but high contrast has worked for her friend in the past. "Do you?" She does.

Picking bits off her muffin and eating it as she peers over the book critically, "Maybe." Brieli considers it a moment longer, then keeps flipping. "Different is good," she agrees slowly. "You could maybe wear some of the same things? But we're not the same build, so not everything will work. And then there's a matter of what you feel comfortable with... I usually have to get my skirts taken up, and some of the Weavers argue with me about it." She gives Azaylia a look, like - can you believe that? - then just shakes her head. "I can go with you, if you want. The colors would be fine, we can wear a lot of the same colors. You could go look, once we're done, if you wanted." There's a wave of her hand towards her blue bedroom cavern, presumably her wardrobe.

Azaylia gives a slow, hesitant nod. "My legs aren't as nice as yours." For instance. Much of her figure is athletic, she doesn't even have the sense to be delicately so like some of the smaller female riders. "But I thought, maybe, with some tall boots?" She wipes a hand free of crumbs on her hip, turning the pages to one sketch in particular. More of a too-long turtleneck sweater, but too short to be a proper dress. The key word is, proper, as it's likely meant to be a top. "Not white, though. Blue? 'Reaches blue." There's a pinch to her brow at those argumentative Weavers, "Really? That seems rude. They're your marks." A curious glance is given towards Brieli's wardrobe, though she's not keen on dragging crumbs in there.

With a purse of her lips and a glance her friend's way, Brieli points out, "You have different legs. You run more than I do. We do different things to keep in shape." What does she do, anyway? She's never really explained, but she's still slender enough, always quick and light on her feet. "And I wear boots a lot. Tall boots and skirts. Men seem to like that." There's a slight, warm smile about her briefly that she's quick to banish in a sip of klah, ahem. Eyeing the sketch, tilting her head, "It might be nice. You can still wear your tights too, you know, when it gets cold enough. And well. Some have opinions on fashion, trends. Some on propriety. Despite marks paid or owed." She considers the sketch a time longer before, "Some good tailored pants would be helpful too. They'd be comfortable, and you'd get the attention you were looking for, I think."

With cheeks stuffed it makes Azaylia's uncertain smile even more tense, buying herself some time while Brieli comments. A bit carefully, "It's not that much shorter than one of your skirts?" Given that the other goldrider is suggesting leggings, or pants. Then again, this is Azaylia wanting to be different. Or more like Brieli, it seems. "So this with a pair of those tall boots? The kind that go up to the knees?" Her friend's warm smile doesn't escape notice, a soft nudge of the older woman's hip given. "How is N'rov?" The question has to be expected, by now.

"Oh, no. About the same, really. I'm just thinking out loud. I don't know what you'd be all right with, right away?" Brieli looks up from the book to offer Azaylia a reassuring smile; really, it's all right. "And pants - I just think it would suit what you do with your time more? Not that you don't wear dresses anyway, but the point of having clothes is having clothes that you like, not that you think you should like. Do you know what you mean? You're not me. And yes, something like that would work, though I don't know what color boots. Not blue, not all matchy." A shudder. And the smile, it has to return at the mention of the bronzerider, though she struggles to keep her more neutral expression, examining sketches. "He's fine. We've had a bit more time together of late. It's been nice." Not here, given Vhaeryth's not around as much, but who would blame either of them if Hraedhyth is soon to rise?

Azaylia watches Brieli, looking back down at the sketch and then to the wardrobe. "Would black boots be too..?" High Reaches? Not that it's unusual for her own clothing to favor her 'home' colors. She has some gold in there, somewhere! Her smile borders on a grin, reaching over to give the other weyrwoman a snuggle that starts out as a hug. "Good. If Hraedhyth does rise first," As if she can read minds, "I'll be glad you'll have more time with him." Thankfully she doesn't cling for long, drifting further into the weyr now that she won't be leaving sticky fingerprints on Brieli's clothes. Or rather, her boots, as that is where Azaylia's attention shifts. "What did you think of the transfers?" Since she's met them and all. Ooh, heels!

Ewewewew snuggling. Brieli doesn't really put up with that for very long, squirming away as soon as the hug gets anywhere near 'snuggle' territory. "Don't do that," she grouches at Azaylia, edging away to pick at her muffin in displeasure. But with N'rov, it's all in his lap and around his neck and totally fine then. So unfair. But she's fine for, "It's less the colors than I wonder if it's a little stark, all bright blue and black?" As the other goldrider makes for the wardrobe, she takes a big bite of muffin before taking thermos in one hand, catalog in the other to follow after. Once done with the muffin, "Ainslee seems bright and perhaps rather like some of your wingriders. Though I don't know that she'd want to sign up. Vienne is harper-trained and seems nice. I think you'll like her. You met the other one. Are you all right with her rising first? If she does?"

"Why?" The question might sound a little huffy, but it isn't as if Azaylia will hold Brieli against her will. Besides, there's shoes. She may not be as fashion conscious as the other woman, but when she puts her mind to it... "Dark blue, instead of bright? I think yellow's too much for something so big." Unsure if they even wear the same size or not, the goldrider is fine with simply putting a shoe next to her foot. They're not terribly tall on her, as close as she is to Brieli's height. "Oh? They sound interesting." In a good way. Straightening up, she lobs a faint wince over, "Not really. I mean, people would probably feel better if Iesaryth went up first." Embarrassed by this fact, though understanding. "But I'm ready, if it does happen. I can't just sit and hope that it doesn't."

"I don't like it, that's all." Brieli sounds a little sulky herself, but she just perches up on her bed with the binder in her lap and the klah in hand, watching Azaylia raid her wardrobe. There's a lot of boots, some with heels, but a number of flats. There's dresses and skirts and sweaters and tops. And there might be a couple of shirts that clearly didn't start out Brieli's, but have been claimed as trophies and brought home. "Maybe. A dark or a navy blue. Burgundy. I have a pair of kind of wine boots somewhere in there. I haven't worn them in a little while. And I think they're interesting. I wonder why they came, why now. Some of them are easier to sort out than others." She has to grimace at Azaylia's words, though, shaking her head. "Not everyone, I'm sure. Not everyone likes me. I just meant... I hope you feel ready. And all right. And... not like all these new people are here to jump on you like... meat." It's blunt, apologetic, but it's the way she feels.

Azaylia doesn't argue about her friend's dislikes, apologetic as she nods, "Okay." One of those masculine shirts gets a pluck, not taken out but inspected before they're released with a giggle. She's not saying anything. "Navy blue, yes." She agrees, slipping free one of those infamous skirts and placing it over her hip. Just to see. She doesn't look as sure of herself now, easily distracted by conversation. "It does seem like an awful lot of transfers all at once." Her laugh is gentle, "People don't have to like you to respect you. But I do feel ready." The skirt is placed back where it belongs, sigh not all that patient. "That's the trouble. I feel like I'm already shooing bronze dragons off her ledge, and she's not even glowing. And everyone's always staring." At either she, or the gold.

Closing the book, tucking one leg up under herself, Brieli allows, "No, they don't. But it can help if they do." (And she doesn't respond to that giggle, thankyouverymuch.) "As for the transfers, I'm not sure that all of them are coming after the golds and the Weyrleadership, but it's interesting, isn't it? I wonder if people are attracted to change itself. The idea that anything's better than the same thing." She has a sympathetic glance and a wrinkle of her nose for Azaylia - she knows what that's like - but has little to say to help. What will? Distraction, maybe. "Did I tell you H'kon practically ran N'rov out of the Council Room?"

"It does feel kind of good." Azaylia admits with a sigh that hints at relief, "To know that things will be settled soon. I can see why people might come over. A fresh start for everyone." Empathetic as always, she doesn't seem terribly suspicious of them beyond her behavior during H'vier's interview. Another pair of boots is plucked out, reaching just above her knees given Brieli's extra inch. "Mm..?" The distraction takes a moment to sink in. "What? No." She gasps, looking up with wide eyes. "What in the... Doesn't he know who N'rov is?" Though that may have been the problem.

There's a moment before Brieli will also admit, "If I didn't have to worry about the Weyrleader... I don't want things to be different with he and I - we can talk about things because we're not involved." If Iesaryth rose first and things worked out the way Bri would like, N'rov would certainly be involved. "Not that I want to put everything on you either, but you have a point about things being settled." After finishing what's left in the thermos, putting it aside, she tells Azaylia, "Oh, I think he knew who N'rov was. Said something about a meeting, but he apparently was put out to find him there at all. What could he do that he couldn't do with me there anyway?" It's quite likely far more objectionable things were done while they were both there. "Oh, those look nice."

Azaylia doesn't quite grimace, but she understands. "With N'rov and everything... He must understand what might happen?" She's a goldrider at a different weyr, after all. Rather than dwell on the unsavory possibilities, "H'kon is... He must still be rattled by I'kris. He doesn't trust." Easily? Anyone? All of the above. "Oh, I don't know..." She lets out without much thought, "Spy?" Clearly she trusts N'rov, or more likely, Brieli's judge of character. Her face brightens, "Really? Would it be terrible if I borrowed them?" If that's too much, "Just to show the Tanners, and see if they have anything in a similar style?"

There's not much more than a nod for the question; yes, he understands. It doesn't make Brieli look any less grim, though - for some reason, she doesn't exactly love the whole idea. With something close to a snort, she says dismissively, "There's nothing to see in the council room." But she doesn't really argue too much more, just shrugs a little. "Anyway, I wouldn't say anything. N'rov thought it was funny." He would. He likely entertained himself at the brownrider's expense. "Of course you can borrow them." Giving Azaylia something of an exasperated look, she pushes off the bed and says, "I'll find a few things you can take down." Stand back. An expert is taking over.

"H'kon can find a problem with anything." Azaylia vents some frustration on the man with a shake of her head, "I bet he'd have been just as rude if N'rov was at the Nighthearth or something." Perhaps an exaggeration, but one never knows with that brownrider. "Oh, I won't." Goldrider's honor. When Brieli steps off her bed, Azaylia plucks up the tall boots and eases out of the fashionista's way. "Only if it's not too much trouble." She insists, possibly ignored. By the time she leaves the younger weyrwoman's weyr, she will have been officially schooled in style.

By the time Azaylia leaves, she at least has enough things to take to the Tanners and Weavers to give them an idea of what she likes. And Brieli is very insistent that it's not too much trouble. Given clothes are pretty much falling out of the wardrobe, she's likely not exaggerating.