Logs:Gather 'Round the Trees
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 30 July, 2011 |
| Who: Emmeline, Khorde, Lujayn, Azaylia |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Early riser Azaylia is swept up by an overly eager rider and taken to her first Gather at High Reaches. More Exiles and a Goldrider..? This Gather has everything! |
| Where: Orchards, High Reaches Hold |
| When: Day 11, Month 5, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
    |
| Orchards, High Reaches Hold Sheltered from the winds while still open to the sunlight, High Reaches Hold's orchards provide ordered row after ordered row of carefully cultivated fruit trees. Even here, inland from the main hold, the faint tang of salt is recognizable in the air, mingling with sweeter scents from the fruit; on fine days, this can be a pleasant spot indeed to spend a few hours. Today, the spaces between the trees have been filled to overflowing with tents and tables, as craftsmen of all kinds take to the outdoors to sell their wares. Although the dancing and most of the music is set up in the courtyards outside the main hold, the sound of merriment is still audible amidst the bustle of shoppers and salesmen, as are the mingled aromas of food and drink. A lovely spring morning in High Reaches includes the obligatory fog rolling through the still-covered orchards, pretty and adding a touch of odd chill humidity to what would otherwise be a perfect setting. As such, most of the early gather revelers have stuck it out in the main hold courtyard, with only enterprising merchants and those vendors whose wares simply don't fit in the confined space of the hold's area populating the eerie space of the early-morning Orchards. Those.. and exiles, who have clustered around in awe of the huge trees, nostrils attuned to the familiar salt-tang of the air. Khorde is currently staring up into the branches of a tremendously large (read: GINORMOUS) redfruit tree, jaw half-dropped to see the old sentinel standing impassive above the festivities below. Not wanting to be in the midst of too much of a crowd, when Emme arrives with her rider escort she too makes her way to the Orchard. Stories of the gigantic fruit trees had already reached her ears and she finds her footsteps taking her to a spot right beside Khorde to just stop and stare in awe. "Can you imagine if we'd had trees like this?" she whispers, as if not wanting to draw attention /from/ the tree itself. "And SO many of them." However the old adage goes about wherries and grubs; in this case it boils down to the early apprentice getting snatched up by a dragon. In a whirlwind of gentle insistence, lurching heights, and eyes closed so tight that she's still seeing bursts of light, Azaylia finds herself in the midst of the festivities. That's quickly remedied by quiet steps that have her seeking the company of trees, brought to a halt by the unforeseen crowd. Swallowing quietly, she eases just that much closer, head tilting upwards to try and see what has so many enthralled. Lujayn is removed from most of the hubbub on the sunny day, chatting animatedly with a few holders and passing around glasses of chilled fruit juice. At least for this rider, it's too early to break out the wineskins. She looks over her shoulder at some of Emmeline's comments catch her attention. "Think they'd grow out there?" She smiles and politely excuses herself from the table, tray in hand. "Hello Emmeline. Khorde." All hushed awe, Khorde's neck is still craned back to stare up-- and up-- and UP. "We'd've had no place to /live/," he replies frankly to Emmeline, though his tone is still touched with a boy's wonder of a new miracle. "They'd've choked out the /whole island/." That pragmatic statement is then followed by, "But we could have lived *in* them, I guess." The presence of a newcomer has him checking over his shoulder to offer a brief smile to Azaylia, touched by a faint trend of wariness for a stranger. However, the exile-popular Lujayn has him grinning unchecked, an odd expression for the normally taciturn boy. "We could always try. Plant one and see. Morning, goldrider." "True." Emme agrees, clasping her hands behind her back while continuing to stare. "In them, or on them. Tree houses?" she suggests, a playful grin on her face. "Morning'." she offers Azaylia after Khorde looks over, prompting her to check for newcomers as well. And indeed, Lujayn is popular amongst many of the exiles, as the harper's face lights up some upon seeing her too. "Hi Lujayn!" Her fellow exile's broad grin is enough to prompt a surprised eyebrow-raise. "They might grow, but certainly not so tall. The ground just isn't... ah..." Not able to find the word she's looking for this time, a sheepish shrug ensues. "I always thought trees were best for climbing," Lujayn chimes in with a grin. "It would be something novel to live in one." Following the young man's gaze up, up, UP, the tray of juice glasses tilts a little until the goldrider comes back to the ground, happy to find herself amongst a welcoming crowd. It's no secret that some exiles are still wary of weyrfolk. "Well, that doesn't matter so much, does it? There are trees here and plenty of them." Lu nods to Azaylia and holds out the tray to the small circle. It's easier to play server than to stand around being served. "Refreshment?" Azaylia has most certainly seen a tree before, and yet here she is. Hands gently folded in front of her, the apprentice continues to peer upwards with lips faintly parted. There's a question perched there, though it looks to be stranded as the young woman keeps quiet. Movement draws her gaze downward, Khorde's short lived smile met with suddenly wide eyes. Emmeline's greeting coaxes something of a weak squeak from her slack jaw, which closes quickly after. A quick glance gathers all three as targets, though she lingers on the outed Lujayn. "G'morning." Lips mouth for words only a moment later before she spills, "And duties to you and your queen goldrider." Whew. The surprise implicit within Emmeline's brow-raise is ignored wholesale by the taller exile. Khorde comments, "Tree-houses. Tree-/holds/," since he's not thinking small-scale, duh. Khorde: Pern's first Robin Hood. He's not going to wear the tights, though. "I want to climb one." That's in reply to Lujayn's commentary, and toned thoughtful. His eyebrows raise at her server-question, but he's swift to take a glass of juice. "Thank you. How are you and Rielsath?" He's very careful - almost painful so - in enunciating the dragon's name. He squints over to Azaylia after a while, as if trying to figure out exactly what's her dysfunction-- if she's voluntarily around a group including exiles, obviously. Emmeline grins, and nods over at Lujayn in agreement. "I would guess it doesn't matter much in the end. Might be worth trying though, if ever some of us decide they want to go back there." she speculates, though doesn't appear to want to try that for herself. "/Climbing/ though. I bet that would really impress all these fancy holder types." She *is* joking, obviously. It would only impress upon them that the exiles are 'ignorant savages'. "Think their expressions would be worth it?" The question is posed to all three. Azaylia is taken by surprise at Lujayn's offer. "Oh. Yes, please." Once she's relieved the tray of a glass, guilt instantly sets in and her empty hand is offered. It doesn't quite go as far as to invade the goldrider's space, however. "Are..? Would you like me to take that, ma'am?" Then she remembers to actually sample the juice, blinking rapidly at the near overpowering flavor. A phenomenon which tends to happen when one hasn't yet had breakfast. Brows hovering high as if to flag her as harmless, Azaylia finds herself under inspection. Khorde's squinting has the apprentice frozen in mid-sip, eyes shifting this way and that before the glass leaves her lips. Uncertain of her manners, she makes it a point not to stare and offers a quiet, "I like climbing trees..?" It's a touch more obvious now that she doesn't quite understand the company in which she keeps. "I'll tell them I had nothing to do with it," Lujayn seems amused by the pair's interest in the trees, extending far beyond her own. "Maybe a later time. In trees that don't have to supply fruit to High Reaches itself?" She suggests innocently enough, not about to rip her gather dress on the brances. Not to mention the effort to maintain at least some dignity as a goldrider from the Weyr. "Rielsath is comfy enough, thanks. She wishes the trees weren't so in the way of her getting a good look at everyone at the Gather, though." Turning from Khorde to the beastcrafter, Lu shakes her head at the well-intentioned offer to take her tray. "Don't worry.. er, I didn't catch your name?" She asks of Azaylia, instead balancing the tray on one hand while extending another to shake. Emmeline finally seems to register the offer of juice and gratefully plucks a glass from the still outheld tray. "Thank you. I would love to stop and say hello to Rielsath later too, if she's alright with that? I'm trying to get used to being around them and all that... sort of thing." is mumbled, and then followed by a quick grin for the deft handling of tree-climbing. "You like climbing trees?" her attention narrows in on Azaylia. "Ever climbed ones this big?" Dress is sacrificed for Lujayn's sake, palm discreetly scrubbed against her skirts before accepting the goldrider's hand. "Azaylia. Uhm, Beastcraft Apprentice." Name and title are given freely, and to all who might be interested. The chilled glass is lifted once more, echoing the affirmative hum at Emmeline's question. Her head tilts back, eyes roaming back up to the branches as she gives another swallow, this time to do away with the juice. "Never one so large, no..." Lujayn is glanced at, "A-and I probably wouldn't, since it belongs to the Hold." "The woods are free," Lujayn catches the reluctant tone in Azaylia's comment and tries to reassure her. "There are plenty outside of the hold that are this size, if you know where to look. Just a little wilder. It's nice to meet you," She remembers to tack on at the end, setting the tray down as the few final glasses are taken by a passing trio of holder girls, the final one for herself. "Rielsath always loves a visit." Her smile is quick for Emmeline. "She's a good one for practice - especially if it involves a good oiling." Meandering away from the topic of tree-climbing, the junior weyrwoman surveys the crowd. "Such an early turnout. I bet they all wanted a good look at our newest residents.." Thinking out loud just a little too much, but no harm done as long as neither Emmeline nor Khorde are particularly sensitive to the truth. "I'm told that if we actually admit to finishing our chores early, we just get more piled on. So maybe I'll just head on over to try that whole oiling thing next time I finish early." Emme offers, quick to pick up on an attempt to change the topic. So she says nothing about the woods. Instead, her hands rub against the sleeves of the dress she's wearing when the early turnout is mentioned. "I imagine we stick out like sore thumbs. But perhaps we should put litle signs around our necks so people know who to gawk at?" Nope, not particularly sensitive to the truth here, as the comment is made entirely tongue-in-cheek. "A few of us raided the stores again yesterday so we wouldn't just show up in pants and shirts when we're supposed to wear dresses." Only for a moment, Azaylia's attention is stolen away by the aforementioned woods, head turning to try and look off into the distance. But while her dress may not be of the highest quality, she's not looking to rip it or get it dirty anytime soon. Drawn back into the conversation, the words are spoken before the apprentice gives herself a chance to put two and two together. "Why would anyone stare? Ah... I think you look very nice." Painfully shy, her words are just as sincere. The epiphany visibly strikes, Azaylia's body stiffening a moment before head hangs in embarrassment at being so slow. "You are... exiles?" It's a whisper as she peeks up at the two, tense that she's somehow offended just by uttering the word. Lujayn has to nod at Emmeline's suspicions. "It's true that there's always more work to be done, especially when you ask for it. If you need a break from this," Meaning the Gather at large, the gawking, or maybe if the novelty of sipping juice in pretty dresses is wearing off, "A dress is a dress, but the effort won't go unnoticed. We can always head home and come back later. There'll be more music and festivities in the evening, if dancing is up your alley." Trying to jostle Azaylia into a smile, "Exiles, islanders, what have you. We're all the same in the end." "Thank you, Azaylia. As do you." Pleased that even the less then fancy dress is at least flattering, Emmeline doesn't even bat an eyelash when the herder apprentice puts the puzzle pieces together. "Yes, that we are. Exiles, or Islanders. Both work." she agrees, nodding gratefully at Lujayn. "But I have to tell you, the idea of dancing sends a chill down my spine. I'm pretty sure I'd have to be dragged, unwillingly, and possibly hog-tied." she admits. "I don't think any of us know how to dance, unless someone has shown a few of us. I wouldn't doubt that Rhaelyn's found a way to learn how. And Seani has a date for tonight. He's going to show her." Khorde was inspecting the bark of one of the huge trees quite intently, for the last sprawl of time -- he's returning to the conversation from his wanders, the wonder still visible upon his face, if tempered by the length of time he's been around the majestic spread of trees. "Oh, come on, Emme. Dancing? Really?" Here comes the return of the snark, accompanied by a bemused curve of lip and crinkle of skin about eyes. "Can't be that hard." He's up to a challenge. Azaylia keeps her head low, staring down at the tips of her boots while waiting for her muscles to unclench from the spasms of faux pas. A quick breath has her inflating back to her full height, hands tightly folded in front of her as a smile fights past her lipbiting. "Right." Lujayn is agreed with, especially since she wasn't able to spot them from anyone else. Emmeline's compliment nearly results in a giggle, but it loses it's force and slips out as a happy hum. "Thank you." At the mention of dancing, however, the beastcrafter falls silent and busies herself with her juice. "I've got my share of practice," Lujayn's admission goes without being said, but between reluctance and confidence she stands stubbornly between the two tempers. "When the harpers strike up later today I'll teach you something simple." She offers to the group. "Some people prefer sightseeing or the banquet tables to dancing, true. Or just socializing." If that wasn't obvious by now. "Did you dance before?" She asks of Khorde, intrigued by his confident attitude. "Maybe you could do the teaching." Emmeline settles her eyes on Khorde, only a slight narrowing of them indicating any irritation at the palpable re-emergence of snark. "Well Khorde. Perhaps we should place a wager if you're so sure." she offers, lips curving upward slowly. She grabs on to Lujayn's offer then, gesturing towards the weyrwoman with a tip of her head. "Whichever of the two of us stumbles first, loses?" It takes a great deal of effort not to giggle at her suggestion that he teach them, too! "You going to learn a few steps with us Azaylia? Maybe I can even convince Evali to try." Who is also painfully shy. The two shy people ought to get along nicely! Or maybe just stare quietly at one another. Khorde has a puzzled glance for Azaylia again, and a blurted, "Are you okay?" because he a) has no tact and b) is Khorde, so of course he's going to ask questions like that. Lujayn's curiosity has him flushed about the ears, though, and he shakes his head, stubborn. "No, I didn't dance, before." The awkward manner of how it comes about into statement obviously indicates that he's not telling the whole truth, here. Something is afoot. Emmeline's irritation only prompts another half-grin, irascible: "Deal." He's confident of winning. Or at least not stumbling. "Well, maybe." Azaylia considers the possibility of being taught how to dance by the goldrider. "I know some steps from back home..." There's no confidence in her memory, or in comparing small Hold dancing to steps at a Gather. Is there a difference? She's going to assume so. Khorde's lack of tact startles the apprentice, hands drawing in close to hold the glass to her chest. "M'fine!" She answers his blurt with a squeak, stiffly looking back to both Emmeline and Lujayn, posture ridged. She is fine, right? Lujayn laughs for the both of them, moving closer to Azaylia - not too close - with a protective sort of presence. "Maybe we should take some time off our feet if these two want to dance," She suggests gently, grinning at the competitive duo before her. "I know my glass needs refilling, and I haven't the tray to help it." Maybe sitting down will ease things, or at least allow a little breathing room. The nearest table's been vacated by Lu's former conversants, some new dishes out on the serving tables attracting more attention than the benches. "Had anything to eat yet?" Since Emmeline tends to be the touchy-feely sort when offering comfort, it's almost assuredly for the best that Lujayn steps in there to hover protectively. The harper would likely only frighten poor Azayia further if she did anything othr them smile encouragingly. Which, she does do! And then rolls her eyes, mouthing the word 'men' if they're all clueless. "Didn't dance /before/." she's quick to latch on to that, smile kicking up a notch there. "So you've already been learning? That would give you an advantage. But, I'll still take you up on the challenge." she decides. Because she is stubborn. And life wouldn't be the same if they didn't antagonize one another. "Sitting sounds like a very nice idea, Weyrwoman." Nice, the change in tone there. Entirely pleasant and friendly when she addresses Lujayn. "There anything different here that we can try for food?" "Oh." Khorde seems none-too-convinced by Azaylia's outburst, but it does seem to satisfy his curiosity for the moment. The gawky exile -- still gawky, even though he's slowly (painfully slow!) filling out -- follows after Lujayn like a faithful puppy at his mistress' heels. "I haven't." He'd say that even if he'd eaten two lunches and three dinners, admittedly; food is food! Emme is too perceptive, causing the young man to pull a face at his peer before settling down at the table -- more like a graceless slump of a bump on a log, really. There's nothing like a large dinner set out just yet, though as the morning wears on the lighter dishes of fruit and sweetrolls are being replaced by more substantial fare: pasties with mysterious fillings and herdbeast stew over rivergrains, but it would seem that the cooks are saving the best dishes for the Gather's high point. Food is indeed food, and Lu leads the way to pick through what remains of breakfast-type fare for her own plate. "The fruit will be freshest.. I can't help myself with the sweets sometimes," She admits reluctantly, breathing in the scent of cinnamon with a smile. "It'll be best when the desserts come out." Heading back to the table, seemingly unconcerned that she's somewhat of a mother hen leading the group around, the rider takes a seat and smoothes the skirt of her dress while waiting. Azaylia relaxes within the aura of Lujayn's calm, muscles slowly thawing so that she's no longer in danger of crushing the glass in her grip. "Sitting would be nice." The words are carried on a happy exhale, Emmeline's smile infectious in that the apprentice finds the corner of her lips quirking upwards. While quick to follow the rider to her preferred spot, she answers Khorde, a gentle echo. "I must've forgotten to eat." Azaylia is likely to stay close to the group for a good portion of the morning, offering her quiet opinion (when prompted) and doing her best to learn more about the Islanders, as well as Weyrwoman Lujayn. Emme is content to fill her plate with anything unfamiliar looking, really. Substantial or not, and she's quick indeed to follow the lead of their very own mother-hen goldrider. "I can't wait to see what they bring out later if this is the standard food." There's a wistful and contented sort of sigh from her lips when they're all finally sitting down at a table, chattering away for the morning. |
Leave A Comment