Logs:A Cup of Klah
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| RL Date: 5 May, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Tayte |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia meets and welcomes Tayte, a new Journeyman Vintner. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. The solid stone of the tunnels provides some warmth, an escape from the cool gray that has draped itself over High Reaches Weyr. The nighthearth offers comfort as well as heat, crackling fire a writhing lure to those passing by. Indecision has stopped Azaylia in the entryway, leaning against the stone with a pensive slump. Her unfocused gaze is aimed at those flames, arms stiffly hugging a stack of papers to her chest. She's not completely blocking the way, shoulder rolling against the stone to keep contact, but leave plenty of room for others to move past. Warmth? Yes, it's like a magnet attracting the new Istan transfer. Knotless though she is, Tayte's sun-kissed skin tells her for either a visitor or a new face around the Weyr. One doesn't get that kind of tan just from a rest-day jaunt. The blonde's hair is loose around her shoulders, a brush in one hand as she pads on feet that wear a pair of leather-bottomed flipflops toward the Nighthearth. Dressed in a simple loose-fitting yellow pants and tunic, like a little sunspot on the gloom of these autumnal days, and with damp hair, it's easy to guess that the woman just came from the bathes. She slips past Azaylia with a murmur of polite excuse, and then lingers at the edge of the little set up of chairs for a moment before she moves toward the hearth. Once there, she simply stands, weight spread evenly across her feet, wiggling her toes just a little. Bright yellow, reminiscent of the sundress she once wore, actually does little to break Azaylia's stare. It's the fresh scent of soapsand and damp hair, a perfume as unique as people themselves tend to be that earns the weyrwoman's attention. Decision made, she steps in after the unfamiliar woman, hunting where the klah is usually kept. Whether fresh or not, "Would you like me to pour you a cup?" A quiet offer made only when she notices those wiggling bare toes. Though she sounds distracted, her voice is kept soft, unobtrusive. There's a delicate something to the clean scent of the foreigner that isn't quite the run of the mill scent of soapsand, a decidedly feminine smell. "A cup?" Tayte's blonde brows rise as she turns her head to find the speaker, "Funny. You know, usually, I'm the one making that kind of offer. Thank you, yes. I'd be delighted." The woman's alto is warm, friendly, like her smile that is offered to the other woman. "Klah with sweetner, please, if it wouldn't be too much trouble?" Her toes wiggle again before she shifts, turning her back toward the hearth to enjoy the heat. "Are you?" Azaylia pours a second, a generous amount of sweetner added to both mugs. Those aforementioned papers are left on the table as she turns back towards Tayte and with slow, careful steps makes her delivery. "You're welcome. I just thought, well. It's not winter yet." No pointed glances anywhere, given the majority of the blonde's ensemble doesn't seem particularly warm. The knotless weyrwoman lingers, not against soaking up some of the fire's heat for herself, cup held in both hands. "I am." Tayte confirms with a smile, gratefully accepting the klah. "Thank you. I'm Tayte. And speaking of winter, do you happen to know which Weaver's the best to talk to about commissioning some winter-worthy wear? I'm afraid I've not got-- well, anything that will stand up to what I hear the winters are like here." So that answers whether she's visitor or newcomer. Azaylia's smile is slow to appear, but when it finds enough of a hold it's friendly and warm, "Tayte. Hello. I'm Azaylia." Her gaze dips to her own shoulder, stifling a wince of embarrassment before she adds as casually as she can, "Gold Hraedhyth's rider." Mug brought up to her lips, she cools the surface of her klah before hazarding a sip. "If you've got the marks, I'm sure there are Weaver journeymen in our craft complex who could help. Though," Tayte is given a longer glance, "Our storerooms are open to all our 'folk. There are warm clothes there." If the blonde is indeed one of them. "Ohh," Tayte draws out the vowel sound, softly. Blue eyes give her a once-over, and then again. "I think I saw your name somewhere on one of my pieces of transfer papers." That the vintners have particular paperwork for such things might not be a surprise, what with their exactness in their ledgers and so on. "I'm the newly posted Vintner Journeyman." Unlike some other crafters, she's not using her rank as a bragging point, simply offering it, as the goldrider did her own. "I'll take a look in the stores and see about things with the Weavers. I've never had trouble finding the marks in my budget for a new set of clothes." Her smile is amused, "Not that you'd know it by looking at me just now, I'm sure." "Oh." Surprise blossoms on Azaylia's face, "Welcome to High Reaches Weyr. Tayte. I'm sure I saw your name somewhere..." Or it could be that she didn't handle that particular transfer, between two werywoman and a headwoman. "A vintner." She sounds impressed, though it could be that her intrigue is just that great. "Please, help yourself. I can't promise that much of the 'good stuff' is left, but new things are being added to the stores all the time. Though... weyrlings have just gotten their weyrs, so-- actually, things might be a bit scarce." Dark eyes drop and lift in an obvious inspection of Tayte's clothing, "They're nice. Not very warm, though?" She smiles from behind her cup before tipping more warm klah past her lips. "No, definitely more suited to Istan weather. My last posting." Tayte says with a smile, setting the as-yet undrank klah and the brush passes through her shiny blonde locks. 's a swift move that gives it a good once over. "Thanks for the heads up about the weyrlings. They always robbed the Istan stores blind, too." So she's familiar with Weyrs, in the least. She offers a warm smile to the goldrider before she tucking the brush handle in her waistband and then picks up her mug again, sipping at the drink. Azaylia gives an sigh, "Ista's lovely. I've been meaning to visit those beaches again." Of course Tayte must know what she's talking about. If she doesn't realize the value of sun and surf, the upcoming winter months are bound to be enlightening. "It's an exciting time." For the weyrlings, and for the weyrwoman who tries to keep an eye on them. When she's not flooded with paperwork, which seems to be the case as she walks back over to collect her stack. "But-- I've got to get these to the Headwoman. Again, welcome to the Weyr." It looks as though she's taking the mug with her, offering Tayte a warm smile as she aims to leave the Nighthearth. A smile and an understanding nod is given to the goldrider, Tayte simply raising her mug in silent farewell to the woman. "Thank you," She does add softly, though perhaps a moment too late or a little too softly to be heard. |
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