Logs:Picnic!
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| RL Date: 26 April, 2009 |
| Who: Rimara, Persie, A'son |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'son and Rimara meet up for a picnic. Persie unexpectedly arrives and the three have a good time gossiping and chatting away. |
| When: Day 23, Month 7, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs) The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. The sun is high in the sky and there is not a cloud in sight. There's a breeze that tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. Taking care of a family of five males does one thing for a girl---it gives her a good idea what a men find good to eat. It also teaches her how to prepare said food, as long as she can persuade the cooks to let her have a little space in the kitchen. It's nothing elaborate, that little meal she prepares for her lunch date with A'son. Slices of roasted herdbeast, wherry and cheese meatrolls, cold tuber salad and bread. Some condiments and trimmings for the sandwiches. Hearty, but simple. Cold (or at least cool) tea to drink. And a creamy, yellow citrus pie for dessert. Yes, she can cook, but not exactly gourmet. Rimara chooses rocks that are more or less away from the main beach, less likely to get sand or water splattered on them or the food. She's dressed for swimming, and has, as a matter of fact, already taken a quick dip to cool off after lugging stuff from the caverns down here. Now she's wearing an unbuttoned man's shirt over her swimsuit, offering a little modesty, at least. For today A'son has apparently decided to ditch all the heavy clothes he's normally seen wearing. He's wearing casual knee length shorts and a shirt that has had the sleeves raggedly cut off. On his feet are a pair of sandals that have clearly seen a lot of use in the past. Rimara is easy to spot down the beach and he heads in her direction, looking out the lake now and again as he goes. Those dark clouds on the horizon are getting some of his attention, his expression to be wary. Like he would really rather not be rained upon. Persie has arrived. A'son's not the only one who's noticed the dark clouds. Rimara's studying them now, even as A'son approaches. "Looks like rain later on," she comments, shaking her head slightly. "Probably not until near dark, if I don't miss my guess. It's no where close now, at least." She turns to smile at the bronzerider. "Hope you brought your appetite," she tells him with a laugh. "I got bored and with this," she holds up a bandaged hand, "I couldn't work, so I snuck into the kitchen and played for a while last night. There's a covered basket on the rock, but the blanket is spread on the sand, actually in some shade. Nice view of the lake, and an even nicer lake breeze. "Have a seat, then---and thanks for coming by. Nice to have someone to talk to, on occasion." A'son gives those clouds another dark look before he turns to the young woman. "I hope it doesn't suddenly break while we're eating. That would be incredibly obnoxious, but totally my luck." At the 'my luck' comment he turns on a self-deprecating grin. When she holds the hand up, that grin transitions to a look of concern. "Oh, not good. I'm no stranger to getting cut up myself." He lifts his own hands which sport a pretty decent amount of old scars. "What happened?" He drops down onto one of the rocks, pulling his sandals off to dig his feet into the sand. "Yeah, I know the feeling. It's been strange getting used to everyone again since I've gotten back." "Oh, I was doing bar prep after you left yesterday, and just lost the rhythm. It's not bad, but it stung like a b---it stung in all the citrus juice," Rimara explains. "Kind of deep, so I had to go to the infirmary to get it bandaged up. I heal pretty fast." She gives a shrug, gesturing for the bronzerider to have a seat on the blanket while she hauls down the basket. Kneeling, she begins to unpack covered bowls, two plates, bread and all the rest. "Figured if you were anything like my father and brothers, you like simple, filling food rather than the fancier dishes," Rimara offers, nodding to the fare. Another glance to those clouds. "Red sky at dawning, sailor take warning," she ventures. "It was a clear this morning, so no need to worry. If it rains at all, it'll probably be light---but I hear you about the luck. If it weren't for bad luck, I don't think I'd have any." It's not far away that Secath sets down on the shore, leaving enough distance between her and the people to keep from letting her wings kick up too much wind or dust. Persie hops down quickly from her shoulder, only then she climbs back up to pull a rather colorful something out of Secath's pack. Then she's down again, fixing that color something, which turns out to be a sort of hat, onto her head. It's a plain little cap with fabric flowers and ribbons and lace hanging down and all around an unusual piece. She wears it with a big smile as she approaches the the two people. He grimaces in sympathy. "Yeah, I hear it really hurts to get that type of juice in your cuts. Lemon, lime, orange?" A'son taps his finger on his chin, evidentally trying to think up more citrus fruits. "And uh, I'm a ground man. Cursing won't make me blush." He lets her know, smiling a touch when she seems to try and gloss over one. "Ha, you and me both." He agrees, watching her pull out all the necessary picnic-y things. "Do you need any help?" The arrival of a familiar green snatches his attention and he watches as Secath comes in for a landing. As Persie dismounts, his face breaks out in a grin which only gets broader as he sees her putting the hat on. "Persie!" He calls from his spot, even though she's coming their way anyhow. "Trust me, it hurts," Rimara confirms with a chuckle. "N'thei offered to cut it off for me, but I declined his kindness." There's a wry twist to her lips at that statment, but it doesn't seem she's going to elaborate on the reason. "Well, I'm /trying/ to be a little more refined than some of the other bar-girls. It's not easy, especially with Ginella. She likes to take /long/ ten-minute breaks." If you get her drift. "Nah, I'm good. I invited you, so you're the guest. All you have to do is put up with me babbling, now and then. The foods worth it, I hope." She laughs, glancing up as the green dragon flies overhead. Plates are set out, food is served. "Made the meatrolls m'self," she brags. "Used a recipe of my mother's. Pretty simple, but good." And then there's someone else approaching. Not the type to be rude, Rimara smiles at the newcomer. "Persie, is it?---well met, then. My duty to your green, m'am." A pause. "Love the hat." Genuine, that, too. Persie has such a bounce in her stride that the last step, just before she comes to a stop, is nearly a skip. Nearly. "Hi," she says with a wide grin and a belated wave. That wave becomes an offered hand for Rimara. "Persie, yep." At the praise for her hat, the greenrider's eyes roll up as if she might be able to catch a glimpse of it on her own head. "Thank you. A'son gave it to me and I was going to go see him, so I thought I'd wear it," that part is conferred with an impish grin, rather like it's some sort of conspiracy between her and Rimara, even though the bronzerider is, you know, right there. But her grins slips over toward then. "But you weren't home. Are you guys having a picnic?" "Yes, N'thei is always full of helpful offers. They usually involve hurting you physically in some way." A'son grins for that, and it's a grin full of some sort of weird affection. "Long-ten minute breaks?" He looks at her a little blankly, clearly not catching her drift at all. "I wish I knew how to make food. Unfortunately if I was set free in the wild, I would probably just die. Or eat dirt and bugs or something. I'd lose a lot of weight at any rate." When he recieves his plate, he thanks Rimara with a bright smile. Before he takes a bite of his food, he holds it up to Persie. "Want some?" Or maybe he'll starve to death because he's feeding other people his food! "Yeah, Rimara graciously offered to feed me the other day. So I figured I'd take her up on the offer. Sit with us?" He asks, grinning impishly up at her. "I kidnapped him," Rimara says, face completely deadpan. "For lunch," she adds, and the grin comes out. "There's plenty. I learned to cook for a father and four brothers, each and every one of them comprised of stomachs with legs." There's a fondness there. "I'm no trained chef, mind you. Couldn't take too long to cook anything at home. The furniture would be in danger." As for N'thei. "Well, I offered to cut off a certain portion of his anatomy in return, so it evened out." And those breaks? "She usually has company on her breaks." Hopefully that will clear things up for A'son. "It's a cool hat," Rimara confirms. "I used to have this straw one I'd wear. Don't know where I got it, but it had shells, ribbons, dried sea-stars---anything I could find attached. I loved it." There's no third plate, but Rimara graciously offers her own, complete with food. "N'thei and I aren't what you'd call bosom buddies," she tells A'son, "I assume because my bosom isn't big enough." Okay, it's a little risque, but she works in a bar! Persie looks to Rimari after A'son's invitation, checking, but since she's been promised there's plenty... "Sure! What are we eating?" Her eyes are on the hunt already. "I really like this hat, with all the dangly stuff." She reaches back to gather it up, some of her hair too, and fiddle with it as she stands there. "I think I might have to start collecting them. And they'd all look nice hanging on the wall, too. Like decoration when you're not wearing them." Whether it's the mention of N'thei or Rimara's bosom, Persie tucks her lips in as she grin. Only after all that does she finally let her knees bend to drop down and sit as she's been invited. "Oh well, I'm sure that you're not the first woman to threaten that part of him. and I don't know that you're breast size has anything to do with it. N'thei is an odd duck, he likes some people and others he just doesn't at all. I don't try to think too hard on it and neither should you. Not worth it, really." A'son gives a shrug, having evidentally given up long ago on understanding the in's and out's of his friend. "A long break with... friends? Oh, no. That doesn't seem like it would be good for business." Then his face changes as he thinks on it. "Or is it..." A'son leans into her, seemingly totally comfortable invading the greenrider's personal space. He's offering her a meatroll. "Rimara's mother's own recipe! I hear it's the tops." The tops? He winks at the resident before straightening up and picking at his place a bit at a time. Rimara doesn't seem to mind the extra person. In fact, though she's a little more relaxed around A'son than she was the first time she met him, the presence of someone as chatty as Persie is rather nice. It does ease the burden of conversation, a bit. "Well, there's a little bit of this and that," she remarks about the food. For herself, she picks up a meatroll and munches as she settles with her back against a rock. "Oh, I'm not particularly worried. Can't fault him for honesty, I'll say that." Obviously in response to A'son's comments about N'thei. "It's easier to pay him no mind now I'm not working under---ah, for him," she amends. "And, Gini's not bad. Heart of gold, all that. It's just frustrating when I need her help and she's off ... entertaining. Only bad for business when I can't reach the upper shelves like she can. Not gifted in the height department." Persie's idea of decoration gets a nod. "Not a bad idea. I used to hang fishing nets in my room, then cover 'em with interesting bits of driftwood, shells, whatever. I think you should do that." As for that remark about her mother's recipe. "Hey, it won a prize at a gather, once." Persie leans back against A'son for his space invasion, and her teeth go bite-bite-bite at the offer of that meatroll, even if she does pluck it from his hand with her fingers instead of actually making him deliver it to her mouth. She's chewing when she adds in, "You need a step stool," to solve Rimara's height problem. "It sounds like getting a stool would be easier than... interrupting Gini?" Did she get that name right? Nevermind, now the greenrider is distracted by what's in her mouth. "Ooh, this -is- good. Different. What's different about it? It's..." She smacks her lips lightly, trying to figure out what makes this particular meatroll so very nice. "I think you should totally interrupt her. After all, she's at work. Not home. She could wait a couple of hours before tossing her clothes on the floor and entertaining." And that's A'son's two cents. "Though I guess a step-stool would be equally good." From the things that are, he makes himself a light sandwich and gets to seriously eating. Stomach with legs? It's getting there. "Just roasted wherry, sharp yellow cheese, a bit of chopped onion and some spices," Rimara replies to Persie's question. "It's one of the few things she taught me before she passed. That and her seafood chowder, but I loathe fish." There's heavy emphasis on the loathing part. "When you grow up around the docks, you learn to hate that smell." Nose completely wrinkled now. She seems very pleased the meatrolls are being enjoyed. "Not much to making them. Tough part is the pastry shell. I snitched a few from the baker," she confesses. "Didn't want to get in their way. Dessert I learned in the kitchens at Harper." Other topics are considered. "Step stool. Got one behind the bar, but I'm still not tall enough to reach the upper shelves. Good thing I don't often have to try." A'son's comment gets a nod. "She's a good person, but work is work. I really don't want to complain and get her fired. I know what it's like to need a job." "I bet it's the spices. It's always the spices, isn't it? Secret spices." It must be good because Persie has gobbled the thing up in no time and is now sucking her fingertips clean. "Maybe you just need a taller stool. Is she really... bad? Like... you know, busy a lot. When she's supposed to be busy with work? Because if you just miss her once in a while when you need to reach something, that doesn't sound -so- bad. Maybe." Instead of helping herself to her own fixings and making a sandwich for herself, she just reaches a hand to take A'son's, or what's left of it at this point. A'son puts his sandwich down briefly to reach for his drink. When he looks down at his plate again, it's gone. He searches briefly for it, gaze going to the sand by his feet. Then his lap. Then Persie. He grins and shakes his head. Instead of making another one he simply helps himself to some of the tuber salad. At the mention of fish, he wrinkles his nose. "I spent those couple of turns at Ista and honestly? I'm glad that I don't see fish on a regular basis anymore." There's a shrug of his shoulders for the part about a job. "This is the weyr. If she's jobless, the Headwoman can find her another one. There's never a lack of work to be done here." Rimara's not so unobservant as to miss the snitching of A'son's food, but she doesn't say anything about it. According to the books, that's a signal some woman use to indicate "possession," but in Persie?---well, Rimara has a feeling it's not so much that as maybe a long time friendship? "Not really secret as all that," the girl offers. "Just some ground pepper, marjoram and cinnamon. A dash of mustard." She shrugs. "Cook wanted the recipe, so they may show up for lunch or something." As for the topic of Ginella. "No, she's not always busy like that. I didn't mean to make her seem like a bad person. She's just ... friendly, I guess. Popular with the riders." She looks a little rueful. "Maybe I'm a little jealous. She's /really/ pretty, and vivacious." She chooses some cheese for herself, nibbling as she reaches for the juice. "Yes. No shortage of work, at all---and new folks showing up. Does that happen every summer?" Persie gasps, "Ooh, it's the cinnamon." She's sure on that now. "I don't think of cinnamon when I think of meatrolls so that must be it. The thing that's different." But the meatroll is long gone and now she's totally working on A'son's sandwich. "We do get more people coming by during the warm months. It's hard to travel here during the winter with the snow and the storms. Is this your first summer here?" She starts to look over Rimara, trying to remember when her face first showed up, but then she gets distracted and instead peers over to see what the bronzerider is eating now. Anything that needs to be pilfered? "I don't think there's anything for you to be jealous of. You're a perfectly attractive young woman." A'son says simply, perhaps not fully grasping the intricate workings of female relationships. "Hm. I don't know that I've ever really paid that much attention. I guess so, what with the thaw out and probably increased travel activity." There's a nod for what Persie says. He's finishing off the tuber salad and is sneaking a few pieces of bread onto his plate along with a meatroll or two. "Clean enough fish, and you learn to hate denizens of the deep," Rimars quips regarding fish. "Never saw how the dock cats could eat it. Personally, were I them, I'd stick to wharf rats." Oh, yeah, she's /real/ fond of fish. Not. "It's good for them, though. Fish. They can have my share." And then Persie is asking about when she arrived. "Oh, just at the end of last winter. I got a ride as far as the crossroads, and figured I might find work and shelter up here. You're right about snow. I camped under an out-cropping of rock about half-way up, and woke to snow drifts over my head!" As short as she is, that's not hard. "I was glad to get here." A beat. "I love the summer here. So nice and warm, but not so hot to be sweltering." Rimara's been busy; she hands Persie a plate with her own sandwich and a meat roll. "Yep, it's the cinnamon. People don't associate cinnamon with meat, but it really adds a kick." "Oh, thank you," Persie chirps for the plate of her own, even if she's taking it in the middle of snagging one of those pieces of potato from A'son's plate. "I like fish but I've never lived somewhere where that's all people eat all the time. It gets old anywhere, though, eating the same thing every day, dady after day. Like how you'd give anything for fresh fruit in the middle of winter. Or whenever, really. Today I have a hankering for cherries." Aside to A'son, "We should get cherries sometime." And then, after eating a bit of the sandwich, she puts it on the bronzerider's plate so he can have the rest. Now they're even. Back to Rimara, "So you came here from where?" she asks with the curious cant of her head. A'son is shaking his head as another sandwich appears on his plate. Is it partially eaten? He looks over at Persie before he picks it up and begins munching on it. "I don't plan on eating fish again any time soon. Probably ever." He comments with a shrug of his shoulder. "You camped outside in a Reaches winter?" His eyes are a bit wide, like he wouldn't be caught dead camping outside in the cold. "Cherries?" He repeats, looking back to the blonde. "Oh, hm. We should go somtime. It'd be a nice trip." "Tillek, fish capital of the world," Rimara replies with a roll of her eyes. "M'father's captain of the Lucky Mara." Finished with her own meager lunch, she settles back against her rock, drawing her bare legs up in front of herself as she casts an eye to the dark clouds. They're still miles away; no chance of raining on this parade. "Before that, I was up at Harper Hall. I'm a cartographer and scribe, mainly, but I grew up around a tavern, so working at Snowasis just comes natural." She smiles at A'son, blushing a little for the compliment on her appearance. "It was like this little cave, and once I got a fire going, it was cozy. Wasn't snowing when I went to sleep," she protests. "And, I didn't really have a choice. There wasn't a caravan coming up this way. Now I know why." As for the fish? "Me, either---but cherries do sound good." Then, since everyone seems to be done eating---except for that sandwich on A'son's plate. "Anyone feel like desert?" Persie's eyes slowly grow wider as she listens, and that makes her chewing slower. "So you're from Tillek originally? Or you just went there after the Hall? Are you still... Did you leave the craft?" Now that she is indeed done with her meal, she leans over on A'son again, relaxing while she licks her fingers. "I like dessert." That's a yes from PErsie. A'son readily chows down the rest of the food on his plate. He appears to readily relax when Persie leans into him and he sort of leans back. "Oh, you were in the Harper Hall? What made you come here?" He asks curiously. At the offer of dessert, "Oh, sure. That looks really good..." His eyes drift over to the cake and despite all the other food, he certainly does look hungry enough. The bronzerider begins to readjust himself and then lets out a long sigh. He twists around and looks in the direction of the bowl. There's a clear internal struggle before he rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry, girls. It's Nikoth. It seems there's a spider on him and he... He's having a little bit of a fit over it. I'll try to be back." He smiles apologetically before he stands, brushing himself off and jogging back towards the weyr with his sandals in one hand. Rimara smiles as Persie perks up, and chuckles. "All right, but it's nothing fancy." Actually it's kind of a pie-style cake, with lots of meringue and sprinkles. She picks up a knife and slices it into pieces, serving it onto the plates. "Enjoy," she says. Persie gets her dessert, along with a fork. "Originally, Tillek, yes," she replies, and to A'son, "Yes, I was apprenticed to the hall. I got stupid last turn, and left. It wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done." Amen to that. Then A'son's getting a mental distress message. "Well, by all means, get the spider off. I don't blame him," she says, shivering. "Spiders are just ... ew." Rimara seems a little reluctant to talk about why she left, but if pressed, she just might open up a little. "If you don't make it back, I'll see if I can get your dessert delivered to your weyr." "Go take care of his spider," Persie says, waving A'son off as she sits up again, flashing another big smile. "I'll bring your dessert up later. If! If I don't eat all of it." There's a wrinkle in her nose and another one of those conspiring glances for Rimara. But then she will settle in with her own piece of cake-pie-cake. "I was at the Hall for a while, too. A long time ago now. Before Secath." |
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