Logs:Trouble
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| RL Date: 30 December, 2012 |
| Who: Z'ian, Madilla |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Meeting for the first tiem, sort of. |
| Where: Kitchen |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Weather: Warm |
| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr(#267RJs) Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis.
The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
Obvious exits: Living Cavern Inner Caverns Storerooms Afternoon is steadily drifting towards evening, and the kitchens are beginning to gear up for dinner accordingly. It's been a beautiful day, though, and the seasonal heat is pushing the menu away from hot food - which makes preparations for the meal rather more relaxed. Madilla doesn't belong in the kitchens, not really, but the dark-haired healer nonetheless sits on a stool on the company of a handful of kitchen girls, chatting away merrily as they chop vegetables. There's a picnic basket on the floor beside her, not quite pushed out of the way, and the healer is saying, "Oh, it was lovely. Thank you so much." He's another one of those people that doesn't belong in the kitchens, but seriously. "I thought I told you to stop coming in here and distracting the girls?" One of the cooks scolds, shaking an oversized wooden spoon at Z'ian as he backs away comically. With both hands out, "I'm not really the source of the problem, they were bored. Maybe you should make salads more interesting? Then I wouldn't be so appealing." The bronzerider flashes a broad smile at the older woman, who is definitely not amused. She smacks him in the upper arm with the handle of her spoon. "Go on. Find someone else who thinks your shenanigans are cute." He laughs and moves away, the cook watching him with a hawk eye until she gets distracted by something across the room. The girls prepping vegetables and Madilla on her stool are right in his path and he slows as he passes them. Leaning against the counter he tips his fingers off of his forehead at the women present. "What are we having for dinner?" "You, I think, if you don't stop distracting everyone," teases one of the girls, brandishing her knife in Z'ian's direction with a dimpled smile. "What do you think, Madilla... you know enough about the body to be able to carve up a bronzerider, right? We could serve slides with the salad." The Weyrhealer laughs, swinging around on her stool so that she can regard Z'ian levelly. "We might need more than one to feed the whole Weyr," she says, amused, as the younger women laugh. "Did no one ever teach you to stay out of the way of the cooks during meal preparation?" "Oh, you're a bloodthirsty group tonight." Z'ian comments with a joking scowl, narrowing his eyes at the girl suggesting they cannibalize him. He leans over and drops his elbow onto the countertop, leaning forward to cup his chin. "Are you sure? I'm pretty muscular. You'd just need to ration me out properly." He grins up at Madilla, tossing a glance over his shoulder to see if the older cook has caught on to the fact that he's still around. "They have. But I like to live dangerously, what's the fun in doing otherwise?" He drums his fingers and gives the healer a speculative look. "I think we've met before, briefly? Infirmary. Physicals. One bad hangover? The flu once. I'm Z'ian." It's an introduction as much as it's a reminder, just in case she does remember one dragonrider out of the slew of them she likely sees on a regular basis. The girls giggle again, but don't get a chance to say much more: a dark look from across the room has all of them hurrying off with their chopping boards, ready to begin putting together trays for delivery to the living caverns. It leaves Madilla alone on her stool, regarding Z'ian levelly; she smiles. "We've met," she confirms, "though I admit i couldn't remember your name. It's a pleasure to meet you... socially, I suppose. At last. I'm Madilla. You do like living dangerously, I can see that. Kitchen staff and healers: two groups with very sharp knives at their disposal. Dangerous indeed." Z'ian grins after the girls as they scurry off to actually get their jobs done, without him there to obnoxiously distract them. "Definitely a pleasure to meet you socially." He agrees, following the path of the cook as she passes them. Madilla isn't a part of her staff and she's too busy to chase him right now, so he's bought some more kitchen time. "I always thought of healers as safe. More interested in saving lives than taking them?" He lifts one eyebrow to her questioningly. "Or are you thinking of the different preservation jars you could split me up into?" "Safe is safe is safe," says Madilla, with a shrug of her shoulders and a cheerful enough smile. "We have a few young apprentices around who could no doubt use some practice on more practical endeavours. You're tall: there would be plenty of you to go around there, too." She can't keep her expression stable, though, and finally laughs: a light, merry sound. "I suppose there might be some complaints, though. I had better not cause any waves. My Hall might complain. You're safe... for now." The eyebrow remains lifted, more in amusement now than questioningly as he considers her. "And there's nothing more practical than performing surgery on a live patient." Z'ian laughs and shakes his head. He pushes his arm away from the counter and reaches out to pull a stray stool in, stradling it as they continue their conversation. "I guess they haven't given the go ahead for that kind of experimentation, what a shame. I always wanted to play healer with a cute journeyman." He rolls one shoulder before leaning over and picking up a loose sprig of parsely that one of the prep girls left behind. He winds it around his finger idly before remarking, "That was probably too forward, right?" Madilla's amusement, however forward Z'ian's remark is, remains obvious in her expression. Her blush-- well, that's to be entirely expected given Madilla's relatively straight-laced reputation (never mind that she has two children by two different men). "My apprentices will be terribly disappointed," she says, aiming to continue the joke, though it's not quite as fluid this time. "As I understand it, bronzeriders are, generally, considered to be forward by nature. Or is it the act of Impressing a bronze dragon that makes you so?" He picks the leaves of the sprig apart, bit by bit while they talk. "I can only imagine. How are you going to stem the tide of disappointment when you tell them?" Z'ian asks, looking from the parsley up to her again. Her question results in him pressing his lips together and pursing them off to the side, in what could best be described as a thoughtful expression. "I don't know. I was seventeen when I impressed and pretty much had my own personality put together by then. But then Tsanth and I have been together for fifteen turns... Something from column A and something from column B?" He shrugs his shoulders and laughs. "What's the general nature of healers? And does it change as you climb the ranks?" "It will be one of the greatest challenges I have ever faced," says Madilla, attempting to sound serious, but failing wholeheartedly; she can't stop smiling. Despite that smile, it's obvious that she's considering his answer with due seriousness, especially given the way she nods her head just slightly forward as he speaks. "I can't imagine that a person could avoid being changed completely, by Impression," she says, thoughtfully. "But for a person to change altogether... no. Perhaps you're right: a little of both." For healers, she needs to take a little longer to consider, and her smile is rueful for it. "If you climb too far through the ranks, you stop really being a healer, I'm afraid. Which makes me sad. I don't like focusing more on administration than patients, though of course, it does need to happen. Someone needs to." Z'ian laughs, ducking his head before tossing the mangled sprig onto the counter. "I bet. If you want I can go with you when you tell them, I'm very good at consoling the distraught." He's still lighthearted as they talk, but he addresses the other parts of their conversation somewhat more seriously. "No, I don't think you avoid it entirely. Unless maybe, you didn't know who you were before. Then it could be easy to become someone else." Her response to his last inquiry has him regarding her thoughtfully. "I guess you would stop in a practical sense. But does centering attention on the administration mean you care less about the patients? Maybe it just shifts the nature of the focus to something larger, broader. Maybe it's not so sad if you think of it that way." "Such a sacrifice," says Madilla, laughing. "Truly, a gentleman." His other words draw her to a more considered pause, her hands folding in front of her as her foot reaches down to kick the picnic basket further under the bench: just in case. "I don't much like the idea of becoming someone else entirely," she admits. "If you can't be yourself... Larger. Broader. I hadn't thought of it that way, but perhaps that's true. I'll always care about the patients; I can say that without hesitating. Even if I spend less time with them, and more... Even so, I won't be taking any Master examinations. High Reaches is my home." "My mother tried to raise me to chivalrous. I like to think that I learned a little something from her." Z'ian flashes her a broad smile, running a hand through his hair. "I wouldn't want to be someone else entirely either. Hey look, something we have in common. Wanting to not be other people, other things." He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling of the cavern, considering it before he drops his gaze back onto the healer. "I can understand that. I probably wouldn't want to take any Master examinations either. There's something cathartic about being close to the ground, in the trenches with the things and people you care about." Madilla's low nod is approving; her, "Bravo, mama Z'ian," amused and teasing. The healer's smile widens further at his suggestion of what they have in common, stopping just short of outright laughter, though there's definite amusement there. "That's two things we have in common, from the sounds of it," she says. "Lucky us. I - yes, exactly." Her tone is quietly fervent. "I like being in the middle of everything; it's where I want to be. Have you been avoiding any possibility of a Wingsecond's knot on similar grounds?" Z'ian gives a little clap of his hands, for his own mother that's not present. His mouth quirks into a delighted half smile as she seems to be more or less amused by him. "We're on a roll then. If we keep talking we could probably rack the number up to three, maybe even four." Her question results in a short laugh from the bronzerider. "I'm not sure I'd call it avoiding any possibility at all. I just prefer to blend in with the rest of the population, I'm a regular kind of man." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly for that fact. "But yes, I'd rather be in the middle of something than at the top of it. I'm not sure I'd make any sort of leader in the end anyway." "Four. Goodness me," teases Madilla, clearly enjoying herself. "A regular kind of man who rides a bronze dragon. I know the stereotypes aren't really true, but even after fourteen turns here, they still make me laugh. That said... for someone who wants to blend in to the population, you're doing an awfully good job of not blending, by making trouble in the kitchens. We're lucky they haven't kicked us out; we're probably taking up space." The healer glances around, probably to reassure herself that they are not receiving too many dirty looks from those actually at work. "Four. Better than you expected?" He asks, laughing as he links his fingers together and cracks them expertly. "I was blending in with the stereotypical bronzeriders." Z'ian counters with an incorrigible grin. "You didn't think I was any different from any other skirt chaser that hunts the lower caverns." She observes that they're taking up space and he pulls up, giving their circumstances a quick survey. There doesn't appear to be anyone nearby who wants to evict them at this exact moment. "It looks like we're not in trouble for it yet. But I don't imagine we can stay here forever, no." Madilla drops her elbows to rest upon the table, using her hands as a chin-rest as she considers Z'ian. "You've proven me wrong; I do apologise," she says, cheerfully enough that it's hard to tell whether it's a serious apology or just another joke. "I think you're right, thankfully. Good. I'm afraid I've spent far too many turns making friends in here to want to get on their bad side, especially when I know full well I could just as easily sit somewhere less in the way if I wanted to." "Apology accepted." Z'ian grins as he drops his own elbow onto the counter again. He rests his hand against the side of his face, "That would be a shame if you had to apologize to your kitchen friends too. I mean, you already have to explain to your apprentices that they can't dissect my body and preserve it in specimen jars. I'd hate to put more stress into your day than I've probably already created." He sighs dramatically before flashing her bright smile, glancing at one of the cooks strolling past. "You could just as easily sit somewhere else. Why are you still here?" Madilla bites her lip, holding back more laughter. As it subsides, she says, "I've known you for the span of one conversation, and clearly I will very soon have a great many apologies to make indeed. For 'a regular kind of man', you're trouble, I can see that." Withdrawing one of her hands, she pushes a strand of hair behind one ear and adds, "I'm afraid if I leave you here, you'll cause even more trouble. Probably to someone less willing to contain it. Why are you still here?" "Trouble? I'm insulted." Z'ian furrows his eyebrows at her, and looks mildly perturbed until a crooked smile breaks the expression. "I like to think of it as mischief. It's more socially acceptable." He laughs at her explanation and shakes his head. "I guess you've got me all figured out then. If you weren't here right now I'd probably be banned from the kitchens. At least that's what they keep telling me." Tapping his fingers once along his face, he splays them out. Simply, "Because you're still giving me the time of day. I'm like a bad cold, once you catch me..." He trails off with an amused shrug. "It's a good thing I'm a Healer," says Madilla, cheerfully. "I know all kinds of remedies for getting rid of unwanted colds. Even stubborn ones. I'm also a mother, which means I'm an expert in managing mischief. Basically? You have no chance." Despite that, she draws herself off of her stool and back onto her feet. "Unfortunately, I do have places I need to be before dinner, so I'm going to have to hope that you can keep yourself out of too much mischief in the next little while. Shall I escort you out of the danger-zone of the kitchen before I go?" "Well, it's a good thing that I'm a father because I am intuitively tuned into the techniques of mothers." Z'ian grins, "You've got me beat on that healer thing though. I'm just a guy with a big dragon, no match on that count." The rider looks disappointed when she pulls herself to her feet and moves to leave. Good naturedly, "Escort /me/ out of the kitchen? I'm supposed to be the chivalrous one." He slides off of the stool and kneels down, picking up her basket that she kicked out of the way earlier. "Allow me. I'll try not to make you any enemies on the way out of the room." Madilla seems genuinely pleased with Z'ian's reactions, and more than happy to be escorted back towards the caverns. "Congratulate your mother for me," she teases, after they've quit the kitchens. "No enemies, and you've been a perfect gentlemen; thank you. It was nice meeting you, Z'ian." And then she's off, basket in hand: off towards the infirmary, and those duties that simply cannot wait. Alas. "I will. She'll be glad to learn that I held onto a couple of things after leaving home." Z'ian replies with a smile, releasing the basket to her once they leave the kitchens. "It was my pleasure. Hopefully we can do it again sometime." Apparently he doesn't have much in the way of duties to complete right now. He glances over his shoulders the way they came, deliberating before going instead into the cavern.
CommentsAzaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Sun, 30 Dec 2012 08:22:18 GMT. <
Hee! Madilla needs more bronzers to flirt(?) with/put 'em in their place! ;) Very fun read.
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Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Sun, 30 Dec 2012 08:22:18 GMT.
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Hee! Madilla needs more bronzers to flirt(?) with/put 'em in their place! ;) Very fun read.
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