Logs:Of Public Relations
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| RL Date: 21 August, 2006 |
| Who: Cerldi, Jendayi, R'hin |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Your location's current time: 17:20 on day 31, month 10, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a autumn afternoon. You stride into the tunnel to the living cavern. Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#1000RJs) The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. Bundles of autumn foliage in brilliant reds and oranges mixed with sprigs of crimson berries have been thrust into the baskets on the wall. Pickling spices and the tang of smoking meat fill the air. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. Drudges move briskly about the room, unlidding plentiful glow baskets to help banish the thickening dusk. The clatter of pots and pans signal the approaching evening meal. Contents: Cerldi Jemah Large Ale Cask Tray of Bubblies(#6808V$) Firelizard Perch(#5030Jae$) Obvious exits: Kitchen Bowl Lower Caverns It's a little on the early side for the evening meal, which is precisely why R'hin's striding into the living caverns now. The man's long strides carry him quickly towards the serving tables, peering in the various covered dishes - obviously the remnants of the lunch meal. A low, jaunty whistle accompanies this action, pausing to flash a grin at anyone that gives him an irritated look for the interruption. Cerldi walks in and smiles as she notices R'hin. She pushes her long hair behind her ear, "Sounds like you're in a pretty good mood." She brushes at her skirt, noticing a small dust mark on it before offering her hand, "I'm Cerldi. Visiting some family here. What's your name?" "Oh, I just do it to annoy people," R'hin's response is laced with amused tone, which suggests he's only half serious. Pausing with the lid of one of the covered dishes still in hand, he glances sidelong at Cerldi, eyes flickering up and down for a moment, before he smiles. "Cerldi. You have family here? Anyone I'd know?" A beat, then, "R'hin, bronze Leiventh's rider. Pleasure to meet you." "If it amuses you, then it must make you in a good mood, right?" Cerldi asks with a giggle, "It's nice to meet you as well. And I'm not sure if you'd know them. A couple of my aunts live here. One has just had a new baby so I came to see how she's doing and all that." She gives him another bright smile, "Mind if I join you?" R'hin's lips twitch, then a low, amused chuckle comes from him. "Very true, very true, Cerldi. Where did you say you were from?" He replaces the lid on the dish, letting out an exhale. "Well, if it's food you're wanting, we're probably best off going to the source," a nod of his head indicates the kitchen, "But if it's just something to drink..?" he offers, waving towards the hearth, tacit invitation in the words. Cerldi smiles and replies, "Telgar area actually. Was given my first ever dragonride just to get here. Helps that one of my two aunts is a rider." She nods as she looks over at the hearth, "Sure. A drink sounds wonderful actually. Are you from High Reaches originally?" Curiosity tinges her voice as she moves a bit towards the hearth. With a magnanimous gesture, R'hin indicates Cerldi should proceed him, pacing just a step behind her as he comments, "Oh, Telgar. Splendid. Lovely area, good people," he says effusively. "Your aunt's a rider? What's her name?" A beat, and he smiles at the question, "Not originally. From here and there - Nabol most recently. Klah or juice?" he asks, pausing in the act of reaching for the jug of juice, from pure habit. "Certa and she rides green Trideth. And juice would be nice, thank you," Cerldi replies with another grin, "And Telgar is a lovely area. Not quite as cold as it can get up here. Never been to Nabol actually. What's it like there?" She again pushes back a stray strand of hair away from her face. R'hin's eyes flicker upwards, as if trying to recall the name. "Ah, I think I've seen her around. Never really spoken to her, though." He completes the action smoothly, picking up the jug as if he'd never paused, pouring out two mugs of the juice. "Oh, you know. Fairly decent place, and it has its uniqueness. You ought to visit one day, just to see the orchard." The mug is offered, and he gestures towards an unoccupied table nearby. "So, Cerldi of Telgar, are you planning to stay long in the 'Reaches?" Cerldi takes the juice and then gives R'hin a small grin and a shrug, "Not sure yet. Trying to find a place I can call my own, if you know what I mean. There's family here and it is a friendly place. Perhaps I'll be staying a while here, just not entirely sure as of yet." She moves towards the table and sits down, "An orchard? That would be nice to see." "Understandable," R'hin's voice is oddly full of sympathy as he takes the seat opposite Cerldi, setting his mug down and wrapping hands around it. "A lot of people who come to the 'Reaches are looking for somewhere to settle down. Myself? If I'd the choice, I don't know that I'd have picked the coldest Weyr on Pern..." the tones are dry enough to hint at jest, though his expression seems rather solemn. "If you're aunt's a rider then I've no doubt you'd easily have opportunity to see it. We do message runs there frequently." Cerldi smiles and then chuckles softly, "True enough. But I doubt some of the family I want to have not visit would come here to bug me, right?" She sips her juice and then nods, "Yes, but I don't want to ask her to take me too many places. She says it's not a problem, but I wouldn't want her to start thinking I'm asking too much." "Oh, it's certainly good as a deterrent," R'hin agrees, "About the only way you can get in without a handy dragonrider is with the trade wagons. Unless you don't -mind- cold that much." He takes a gulp of his juice, eyes glittering a moment as he says, "Oh, I'm sure she doesn't mind. Most riders love an excuse to fly. Luckily for me, Leiventh enjoys doing so and doesn't require me to be present." Pale eyes roam around the caverns, as if marking the various occupants, "If you want to stay, you can always have a word with Harley. She's the assistant steward here. I'm sure she could organize for some work for you. She's a thing for taking in... strays... I think." Cerldi chuckles warmly, "Strays? Sounds like a really nice lady. Perhaps I will once I've come to a decision." She looks at him and asks, "How long have you been a rider? It sounds like being a rider is lots of hardwork, but worth it. That's why I've also been kinda thinking about staying in a Weyr. There's the possibility of getting Searched. Of course it's not the only reason." "Sometimes I think she takes ones in she should toss out, but that's probably why I'm not a steward," R'hin comments, wry. "Me? Oh," a beat or two to consider, "Only a couple of Turns and change." The woman's comment, however, earns a sharp, intent look, his tone perhaps a little more acerbic than he means, "Is that what you think? Being a rider in an interval... without a purpose... is not so grand a thing as you may think." Cerldi looks at R'hin, "To me it's better than getting killed by things that fall from the sky. You wouldn't look as nice as you do if you had a huge scar running down your face." She sips at her juice, "You may not serve a purpose in that way, but you do in others." "In two hundred and fifty Turns time, perhaps. But I'll never see Thread in my lifetime." R'hin's tone is still sharp, and he takes a breath as if to control it, voice more neutral as he counters, "My only purpose is to continue the species until such a time as we are required again. Not everyone," he gestures vaguely, "Is content to simply mark time. Though some," a grimace, "Seem to handle it better than others." Cerldi looks at him, "I don't understand, but then I'm not a rider. All I know is that I really don't want to see others hurt. I really wish Thread would disappear. Be gone forever so that then riders in the future don't have to get hurt or killed. But as I said... I'm not a rider so I don't fully understand." R'hin exhales slowly, tone wry, "No," he says, "Not everyone does. Not even most riders. And what if Thread ceased for good? What purpose would dragonriders serve, Cerldi of Telgar?" he looks at her expectantly, head tipped to one side. Cerldi looks confused, "Not really sure. But if we didn't need you for Thread... then there has to be something we would need you for. I just don't want people to get hurt is all. And maybe there's something that'll be useful that won't get riders and their dragons hurt. I don't know what, but there has to be." "Oh, I'm sure we could come up with a dozen different purposes, but none so noble and grand as Thread," R'hin says, as if in counter to Cerldi's words. "Dragonriders wouldn't exist if Thread didn't. It's a symbiotic relationship, see? Dragons breed far less when Thread doesn't fall. If it didn't fall at all--" he trails off, brows flickering upwards as he lets the conclusion of that sentence speak for itself. Jendayi meanders in from the tunnel to the bowl. Jendayi has arrived. Cerldi sits there and thinks quietly, "I never thought of it that way. But I still don't like it. I don't like the idea of you riders having to be hurt to protect non-riders like myself. It just doesn't seem very fair in my opinion." She looks at him quietly, watching him with soft brown eyes, "Like I said... I don't like to see people hurt." Curiosity leads Jendayi down the tunnel from the bowl. She uses a tourist's pace, presenting a gaily-hued obstacle to those who wish to enter behind her. Once inside, the trader allows her wrap to slide back from head and shoulders to droop from bent elbows. "Well." Just that. Her gaze travels the cavern's interior before she begins forward, finding the path towards the source of rather savory smells. R'hin is seated at a table with Cerldi, a mug of juice in front of him. The caverns aren't too busy as yet, probably owing to the fact that the dinner meal hasn't yet been served. With a twitch of lips, the bronzerider leans back a little, though his voice is no less intent as he says, "Well, you needn't worry about such things. As I said, I'll never see Thread in my lifetime, nor will your children, or your children's children." A beat, then he adds, "Thread or no, people get hurt all the time, every day. It's a part of life." Cerldi looks up to see the trader, but looks back at R'hin, before finishing her juice, "True enough, but it doesn't mean I have to like it, right? I have to head out now. I'm going to go and see my cousin and aunt again for a bit. See you around?" She stands up, giving R'hin another one of her bright smiles. That lack of occupancy works to Jendayi's advantage. She walks the tables' lengths to reach the nearest supply of freshly brewed klah. The beverage's rich scent causes the young woman's nostrils to flare as she tips a pot against the lip of a mug, filling the latter to capacity. For all that she seems enraptured by the Weyr's brew though, it must cool before tasting-- the pause is spent in turning to study those nearest, in this case the dark-eyed girl and her companion. Smiling, Jen drifts closer to the pair. "Undoubtedly," R'hin replies to Cerldi's latter statement. "Say hi to your aunt for me?" he says, oddly enough, since it's doubtful her aunt would even know who he was. As the woman stands, so too does he, a picture of a gentleman, pale eyes on the Telgarian. That's when he takes note of Jendayi's approach, offering the woman an easy smile, drifting over her fairly exotic clothing with a twitch of brows. "Not from around here." Statement, not question. Jendayi inclines her torso to the two of them, willow dipping before the wind. "Right in one. Jendayi, of the Dijilia caravan. Or part of it. We thank High Reaches for its hospitality." When she lifts from the bow, the klah is lifted for that all important first sip. Her eyes continue a smiling study of the pair of the mug's rim though that expression falters when the girl hurries off. "Our reputation precedes us, then? We've reformed. Really." "Not that I'm aware of," R'hin assures, of reputations, "She's new to the 'Reaches, so unless you've been terrorising Telgar of late...?" he trails off, as if possibly expecting an answer in the positive, though a twitch of lips indicates humor. "Join me, would you?" he invites, gesturing towards the seat recently occupied by Cerldi. "Ah, the Dijilia clan? Yes, I know of you. I used to be part of the Beowin's. I think we travelled much the same route." "Thank you!" Jendayi's smile verges on grin as she shifts to take the offered chair. "We were very well behaved at Telgar, unless Vertai slipped away when I wasn't watching him. There is precedent." The mug of klah is set on the table before her and held cradled in both of her hands, elbows resting on the wood's border. "Beowin...truly? That's good luck, meeting you first," she goes on, plainly delighted at this twist. Blue-black eyes skim to mark the cords decorating the man's shoulder. "Except you've been stolen away. Your family must mourn the loss." R'hin resumes his seat a beat after Jendayi takes hers, chuckling low, amused. "Ah, you've a troublemaker in your clan, you? Well, I was the troublemaker of mine, so I can't say as Garain would've missed me that much. I wasn't family, anyway, just a blow-in," lips twitch at the term, before he follows the trader's gaze to his knot. "Well, a little unexpected detour," he admits. "I'll have to come and see your wares, soon. How long are you staying for?" Jendayi untangles one hand from the mug and uses its klah-warmed palm to support her chin. "There's always one, or so it seems. I'm assured that this is my attempt at redemption...ah! Truly?" She's fond of the word, and expressions of delight. "You really must meet Vertai, you already have so much in common. There's time enough though, we'll likely stay the winter, with it being so late in the Turn. We've set up at the lake but it remains to be seen how long we'll last there. This will be our first winter in the Reaches." R'hin's own mug seems to garner less attention, one hand loosely cupped around it but otherwise ignoring it. "Vertai, is it? I'd love to meet him," he agrees, "I'm R'hin, by the way." He nods agreeably, "The passes out'll get bogged down soon enough. Ah, winter in the 'Reaches." There's a hint of amusement, and no small amount of wryness. "Not a pleasant experience, unless you've a warm hearth to huddle up to. You'll probably be forced inside for much of it. I think there's a few empty caverns about the place, though." "You make it sound so -pleasant-. Tell me true, your job is to bring in new blood, isn't it? Public relations?" Jendayi, less shy in her expression of amusement, settles back in her chair while laughing outright. "Still, it's new and that's reason enough to try it. Once. It's a pleasure to meet you, R'hin. I know just what to hold back for you when you have the chance to come see our stock. You're not afraid of fashion, are you?" R'hin's chuckle is low, but genuine enough for all that, amusement glittering in pale eyes as he spreads his hands wide. "I'm a public relations -nightmare-. The bane of diplomats everywhere. The causer of incidents in Weyrs, Holds and Halls across Pern." The words seem to have an odd ring of truth to them, so it's possible he's not exaggerating that much. "Fashion?" he echoes after a pause, "I'm not really one for fashion. As long as it's warm and serviceable, it suits me just fine. Although I imagine I could do with something more formal." He's kind of eyeing Jendayi's clothing almost warily as he speaks, however. "You're a walking advertisement, I gather?" Jendayi cants her head to the side. "That's quite a resume. That sort of talent has to be valuable to someone." Before she can be distracted by considering the merits of creating political havok, her attention is drawn-- by means of look and question-- to her attire. Her wide chin lowers into her throat to allow a glance of her own. "You see, it works. Our Bina is a marvel with her needle, isn't she? But no fear, R'hin, only the boldest of people can pull this look off. I had something tamer in mind, hand to my heart. But more formal, yes. What better walking advertisement than a dashing bronzerider, known to the population?" "Oh, it will be of value to... someone," R'hin assures, lips curving into smile, waving the words away a beat later. "It's certainly unique," he observes, of the clothing, low chuckle following, "I'm hardly a fashion trendsetter, however, so I think something more... tame, as you say, would be more appropriate." Brows flicker upwards at the trader's words, observing wryly, "I'm not sure I'd attach the word 'dashing' so hastily. But I'm not immune to your blatant flattery and charm, my good woman. Besides, you have me intrigued, now. I should like to look at what else you have in that wagon of yours." Jendayi counters with, "The clothes make the man, R'hin. You -will- be dashing, if you let me have my way with you." A good-natured grin is sparked by the charges of flattery and her eyes show nothing of shock or denial. "Blatant has its advantages, as you should know if you've had experience with caravan stock. We've more than just clothes to offer though so feel free to drop by any time. You won't be able to miss the coach." "That," R'hin laughs, "Is an offer no man could possibly refuse. I appreciate the blatancy, though. It's certainly refreshing." He seems to recall the presence of his mug, and drains it in one hit, palm against the table top as he rises. "I'll be sure to come by - perhaps later this evening. For now, however, I'm due to harass the kitchen staff, and they get surly if I'm late." With a wink, he gives the trader a nod and strides off across the caverns, whistling easily under his breath. You step away from the tables and head into the busy kitchen. |
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