Difference between revisions of "Logs:What Can You Do"

The weather is bad outside, meaning that hordes have traipsed through the caverns and brought with them endless quantities of slush and mud. Much of it has ended up pooling around what coats and boots have been left behind so not to dirty living quarters. Of course, the resultant mess has to be cleaned, and as Evanthe has no official function... well, she makes a useful odd job girl. This is the odd job of the moment. Though not cheerful, she's looking more resigned than grouchy as she follows a particularly filthy trail of footprints with mop in hand.

The slush and mud is indeed endless, and even when there's not slush, there's still mud, so isn't it wonderful there are people like Evanthe around to clean up? Though there's some weyrwomen who would be game to pick up a mop and bucket, Aishani certainly doesn't look like one of them, as carefully and impeccably dressed as she is, but at least her soft-soled boots don't track anything from the outdoors. She's perhaps one of the few people that change shoes in the caverns; that have shoes to change. She comes from the kitchen by way of the nighthearth, clipboard tucked under one arm - as she sees the girl cleaning, she lingers in the shadows to watch a beat or two before making herself apparent. She'll even clear her throat.

The worst are the places where the mud was left a little too long. Dried to cement, they require more than the usual effort, and it is one of these patches that Evanthe has started to tackle when Aishani makes her shadowy presence known. The girl has just gotten down on her knees with a grunt, pulled out the handy scraper tool, and just started chipping up the chunks when she hears that throat-clearing. "What?" she says, ever-so-slightly snappishly... /before/ she looks up and see who it is. Of course. Of course it is. "I mean..." One can almost feel the expletives swimming behind her lips, but she bites them back. "Good evening, weyrwoman."

Lightly, "I try not to sneak up on people. Most of the time." Aishani doesn't seem insulted or surprised by Evanthe's mood, as she gives the area a look, arching fine brows. She steps further into the light of the caverns, lips pursing - though it seems more at the job than any issues of Evanthe's. "Good evening," she echoes eventually, politely. "It's late for this sort of work. I suppose I'll have to see why it ended up so... dried." Wrinkling her noes, she toes another chunk attached to the rock of the floor.

Evanthe sighs, sitting back on her haunches and using a (only slightly muddied) hand to push her fair hair back out of her face. "Yeah. Some kind of issue with the schedule, two people assigned to one job and no one assigned to this one... I don't know. Some shit like that. And so my evening planned itself," she says dryly, giving another jab at the mud that dislodges it. A flick of the scraper and it's tossed into a bucket, set to the side for just such a purpose. One down, who knows how many to go. "Headwoman's pretty ticked 'bout it. Anything I can do you for you, weyrwoman?"

With a quirk of her lips, "That sounds like someone did some rescheduling of their own. Unofficially. I'll look into it." Aishani even brings forth the clipboard to make a little note with the pencil attached; after tucking back both away, "I can imagine she is. Aren't you likewise ticked about it? And don't kill your whole night at this. I'll assign an extra crew in the morning. You can even come help then, if you like." The last is offered to Evanthe dryly - isn't that exciting? "Mm. Your name. I'm Aishani, Iesaryth's." Even if the introduction is unnecessary, she goes through the motions.

The suggestion that her fellow lower caverns workers, intrepid as they are, may have /intentionally/ shirked their duties... well, that just earns a breath of a laugh, likely confirming. Then Evanthe shrugs, standing and brushing her hands off on her pants. The continuation of the conversation gives her excuse enough to stop working, which she does, and finds a piece of wall to lean against with her hands shoved into her pockets. "There's generally something to be ticked off about. At least this is a thing that I can't mess up much more'n it's already messed." Illumination of her cheerful outlook. She snorts a little at that generous offer of morning work-detail, but doesn't object. "I'm Evanthe. The tripper," she adds, expecting that almost dousing the weyrwoman with tea was probably the most memorable thing about her.

"Oh, of course. I must have blocked it out, given the givens." Or Aishani forgot, but who knows - maybe she does just dismiss such unpleasantness. Sweeping a look around the caverns again, she has to agree, "It would be difficult to make the floor any worse off than it is, it's true. How are you settling in?" Tilting her head to the side, she regards Evanthe for an unblinking moment before, "Weavers. Did you end up going to the seamstresses, or getting it done yourself? I'd say if you spend your time mud-scraping, you're owed a bit of mending in return."

How is she settling in? Evanthe considers the question, eyeing the weyrwoman all the while as though debating exactly /what/ answer she's supposed to give... in the end, however, her tone is genuine, if hesitant. "I'm settling. I... like it. I like it here. Very much." There's almost a reluctance in saying so, as though that's /not/ the reaction she expected, or feels she is meant to have, but there's a quirk of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Whether the weyr is as glad to have me, it's hard to say." She gestures to her pants, same as she was wearing before, now with a sloppy but effective stitch job across the knee in a dark blue thread that contrasts sharply with the lighter fabric. "My ma insisted I do it. So, did it my way. Next time, I'm going to the weavers. The other ones. Not related to me."

Aishani offers a trace of a smile for that uncertain regard, though it comes and goes quickly. "It's not for everyone, but if you like it now, you should like it better when it gets warmer. It's always a bit close in the winter, if you can't get away." For the goldrider's part, her colour is deep enough that it might be summer anyway - one of the benefits of dragonriding. Arching fine brows as Evanthe demurs, she asks, bending briefly to look at the patched knee, "What can you do?" It's a simple question, without judgement one way or the other. As for patches, "There's the seamstresses too, if the weavers are busy. They do day to day mending and less fancy work. It was my job, when I came here. I hated it." She's unapologetic.

"Don't mind the cold," Evanthe says, with a half shrug. "People tend not to follow you when you storm off into the snow." Quite the opposite, Evanthe is just about as pale as it gets - no sun has touched that skin, but as Aishani asks that question of her, that simple question, Ev's face colors noticeably. What can she do. "Well. That's the question, isn't it?" she mutters uncomfortably. "Apparently I can scrape floors." There is a look of appreciation though, with the other woman's unapologetic admission. "D'you like being a weyrwoman?"

Dark eyes brightening, though her lips only quirk again, "Do you do a lot of storming off generally, or just in the snow?" Aishani doesn't necessarily seem to expect an answer, sliding hands into her own pockets as she leans back against the wall. Watching as Evanthe flushes, she considers the younger woman, noting, "There's something, I'd imagine - learn fast, or write neatly, or add quickly. Listen well." A slight smirk at that. "It's not a quiz, but I don't see 'floor-scraper' as the sum total of your future." The last question warrants a breath, then; "There are some parts I like and some that I don't. Some that I am particularly suited for and some I am less so. But I don't think I would be anything else."

"Try to save it for a last resort. Otherwise it loses its effect," Evanthe says, possibly making fun at her own expense given that slight roll of the eyes. As for her epitaph reading floor-scraper? "I sure fucking hope not," she says, forgetting her so far admirable rate of not-swearing. "Hope I figure it out, 'cause the not knowing gets pretty damn old." The response to her question earns attention. Quiet, patient attention, without fidgeting, and a nod after. "That must feel nice."

"I'll... keep that in mind." Aishani seems so calm at this point, it's difficult to see her storming anywhere, but it must happen now and then. She continues to be unbothered by most things, cursing included, though it doesn't seem to be something she does a lot of herself - it might contrast oddly with her cultured, mostly accentless tones. "Think about your strengths, and what you like to do, perhaps. I've had little experience with lack of direction until... recently." Evanthe's attention has her seeming curious, but she doesn't ask, merely agrees, "Mostly. It can be difficult to... step away where I should. But I keep myself busy."

Evanthe nods slowly, but without much confidence in the idea - there's little faith there now, in finding The Thing that she's good at. Hence the interest. "I'll do my best, weyrwoman." She tilts her head, curiously. "What happened recently? Was it dragon?" The weyr's timeline is somewhat beyond her. "S'pose I can see that. But seems preferable to the alternative." She sighs, and her gaze reluctantly drops to the floor, the fresher mud now starting to dry to the same solid consistency.

"Maybe not so recently, really. And it's a story... that's likely not meant for this job." Aishani looks around at the work Evanthe seems determined to finish, and besides, there's a reluctance to her words. She's not sure she wants to get into it. Pushing off the wall to toe the dried mud again, "Well. If you think of a few things that you can manage and don't hate, let me know. Perhaps something around here will fit." Her sharp, dark gaze goes back to the blonde, brief and thoughtful, before she starts off toward the entrance to the Weyr - likely to the bar. "Don't kill yourself, Evanthe. And have a good evening."

"I'll do my best," Evanthe says again, as she drops down to her knees. She watches the weyrwoman thoughtfully for a moment, until she's out of sight, and then back to floor-scraping she goes.