Logs:Whiskey and Diapers
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 18 March, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Tomic |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tomic and Edyis run into each other in the storerooms. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 3, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: F'manis/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated: As usual, feel free to add/correct/change/edit anything I may have missed. |
  |
>---< Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr(#273RJs) >-------------------------------<
Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen
on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a
wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and
organization of supplies into the various storerooms.
Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two
being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves,
while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and
inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public
stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination
is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items
neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.
Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of
their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept
floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves
providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though
there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from
the niche outside each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky
dark of deep caves.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Edyis F 20 5'4" athletic, brown hair, brown eyes 0s
Tomic M 20 6'4" broad black brown 8m
>------------------------------------------< 28D 3M 37T I10, Winter afternoon >---< It's a winter afternoon, and, for the most part, the storerooms might seem empty, well except for the pile of crates stacked in neat rows on the floor. The small dark haired woman near them is glaring intently at something on one of the upper shelves, as though magically the huge crate will just float down on its own by force of will alone. The last time he was here, Tomic was fixing a wobbly shelf full of whitewash powder. This time, he's here on an entirely different mission, emerging from one of the rows of shelving with a small stack of cloth diapers - clean, new ones - piled on one arm, and held steady against his chest, and also by the hand he rests on top. He steps purposefully over one of them, then stops, and looks up as well. Broad-faced, broad-shouldered, just markedly big all around, this wavy-haired youth is as difficult to miss as he would be to get around in a crowd. He stands taller than most men, thick with muscle through his limbs and trunk, and undeniably strong, even with that bit of padding on his belly. Hulking, yes, but not a menace: far-set eyes are amicable for the most part, framed by wavy black hair that falls to his jaw, and the broad smile that breaks across his ruddy-tan face is as easy-going as the shuffle that most often moves him along. That shelf is still being eyed, and then he is there in her ring of boxes and then Tomic gets eyed. She just stares at him for several minutes in silence, before: "That crate up there? You don't happen to know if it has the last of the whiskey that was ordered for the Riders' Lounge do you?" She explains, "Last time I tried to get something off of one of the top shelves in here it did not end prettily. I think I turned the whole bathing pool white. So I was hoping you knew before I dragged out a ladder and possibly smashed a crate full of whiskey bottles." "Um." Tomic takes his hand off the stack of diapers to scratch at the back of his head, still looking up. "Wow," as words process through his brain. "You mean they keep it in here? With... with the diapers?" His hand descends again, and this time, the hold on his little stack is protective. Keeping them away from harmful influences. Edyis looks utterly crestfallen at the word, diapers. "Oh, so they aren't in that one either. Maybe I made a mistake and went down the wrong isle..." Biting her lower lip at that thought before eyeing the diapers and the crates. "You have a little one?" She asks cheerfully, a smile spreading as she begins to reload the crates onto the shelves. Tomic's forehead gets all scrunched up. "No, I don't- the diapers are down that next one. But... like... You mean no one just takes it?" Still clutching those nappies, he peers upwards, where his attention had been drawn to the woman a moment before. "Lots." With a big grin and cheerful nod. Her eyes go a little wide at that lots, still that warm smile doesn't waver. The second box moved back to the shelf before she adds, "How many kids? It sounds like that little stack there might not be enough." "Well, we've got lots more of these that are still good, and can just get washed. But sometimes they wear out, and when you get more littles than before, you need more, too. Or else if everyone's having a messy poop day..." Tomic looks away from the box to give Edyis a wide-eyed and knowing sort of look, expecting her to follow his train of thought. "You need way more." She finishes what she hopes is the end of the thought. "You have that many kids? Goodness! You must be proud." Edyis still may not be understanding him correctly, but she's moving to the other boxes. "You want help?" Tomic shrugs affably, and offers up, "Sure. Little ones are cute. Kind of like the older ones better, though. Besides, lots of the girls want to hold the little babies all the time." He's still looking up, even after Edyis moves. "Were all those other boxes up there with that one?" Edyis laughs, "Well that would probably explain how you wound up with so many. No, I can't reach that box, and I'm afraid of the ladder because If I don't find the two-sided one, I will wind up knocking over whatever is in here. I don't trust these shelves anymore." She explains somberly, working quickly to get the rest back on the shelf. "I should have just done it one at a time instead of making a mess." "But... this is the place they keep the whisky?" Out of the mouth of another, it might sound ominous, promising ill-doings if the stock were left unattended. From Tomic, it's just a question, albeit a bit of an uncertain one. "You know you're in the right spot? They don't... lock it up or anything?" And then, he's looking to the other crates. "Are those whisky too?" "Usually once it comes in everything that can be fit into the back room at the Snowaiss and the Riders' Lounge gets fit in, but It looked like we were out. Those aren't whiskey. Otherwise I would have been long gone before now. Maybe the order didn't come in." She murmurs more for herself. "I think so... but obviously not since it isn't here." She throws a glance up again at that last crate. "... Oh." Tomic presses the pile of diapers with his top hand. "Well then I can get it down for you, probably. Here." An awkward twist of his arm and wrist to secure a hand beneath the stack as well, and he's holding out the whole thing to her. Edyis accepts the diapers with a grateful smile. "Could you?" Suddenly she sounds incredibly hopeful. She even accepts the pile of diapers with a soft smile. "Thank you, that would be so helpful." With the thing he'd come here for safely stowed (with Edyis), Tomic can set to stepping up to the shelf. He checks over his shoulder for the whereabouts of the crates on the ground. He reaches up, on his toes, to the topmost shelf, and gets a hand on either side of the crate. He stops there. "How many bottles would be in this?" Edyis thinks, before answering,"Hopefully five to ten. Its the cheap stuff though, so they make big bottles of it." Biting her lip watching anxiously. "Be careful, I don't want to you to wind up going back to your children reeking of whiskey." "Oh, right." The big young man sounds very serious about considering those possibilities. "Better keep a bit out of the way." He positions both hands in the holds provided. He takes a breath, lets it half out and holds it, with his core muscles tensing and shoulders squeezing. He lifts and nearly throws himself, and the crate of something-certainly-not-whiskey backwards, letting out a non-verbal gasp. Edyis squeaks as she steps out of the way of the tumbling. "You ok!" Eyes wide in shock. If there's one thing he's good at (other than putting up with hoards of kids, obviously), it's lifting and carrying things. Tomic manages to twist and dance and recover, with the crate clutched close to his chest, and feet in a broad stance. "Sure," is a bit out of breath, but there's a grin spreading over his face. "Don't think it's whisky, though." Edyis blinks at him watching the dance with furrowed brows, "I'm sorry I should have gotten the ladder and done it myself. What is it then." Peering over at the crate now intensely curious. "Dunno," Tomic admits freely, taking the crate and setting it down on top of another, braced. "Don't mind helping, though," comes next, and he's holding his hands out for the load of diapers. Edyis holds out the diapers tentatively studying the crate suspiciously. It's only after Tomic claims the nappies that she opens the lid... and starts laughing uncontrollably. Claims them, and tucks them in against his chest again. "What is it?" comes with an interested, but oddly polite, lean. Blame his many sisters. "More nappies." She answers airily. "I give up. We must be out, that or F'manis has it stored someplace else." Still grinning, "That though, I think should probably go with you. Thank you though, for helping. I'm Edyis by the way." She offers moving to finish cleaning up the isle in defeat. "Probably somewhere else. If he's anything like my dad," Tomic nods, "he'd want to keep it safe, so no one would take it, or break it. They can stay here. Maybe put them on a lower shelf, though. Parents are going to have to get some too, can't all just be for us." He's already cleared one of the rows of boxes when he turns back to answer, "Tomic," and offer a little bob of his head, almost a bow. But then he really must have to get back. Because he goes. |
Leave A Comment