Logs:Junk and Jabber
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| RL Date: 24 February, 2015 |
| Who: Lilah, Tess |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tess is claiming furniture, Lilah is not. They speak of dragons, duties, Astivan, and the latest juicy gossip (C'stian and N'muir!). |
| Where: Stores, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 2, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Astivan/Mentions, C'stian/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
Fort's stores are made up of a series of caverns of different sizes and hold the vast majority of the Weyr's perishable and non-perishable supplies. Accessible from both the kitchen and the tunnel to the outside of the Weyr, stores is split into two levels, with the lower levels dug down deep along a sloping passageway where it's always chilly for perishables and the upper level containing mostly dry goods. Second-hand clothing, cleaning supplies and second-hand extra linens are available in open stores. Several 'junk' rooms are also kept unlocked with a 'free to take' policy on items that are too broken to throw out but not in good enough condition to warrant a requisition. The rest of the caverns are usually kept locked and require permission from the headwoman or the storeskeeper on duty for access. Bright but untrained, Tess' mezzo carries from behind the door to one of the 'junk' rooms that houses an assortment of furniture and items for one's living space. The words of the tune are pleasant and she sings it with an up-beat rhythm. It breaks off mid word as the slender woman gets distracted by a table that she feels the need to crouch to peer under to look at the leg joining, likely assessing how much work it would take to make it more serviceable. It is likely the sudden stopping of that sound rather than the singing that draws Lilah to pop her head into that junk room, her errands down here not in particularly associated with this room. Instead, she has her own set of keys shoved in her pocket to the rest of the stores, her riding jacket muffling the sound of them so that likely the first warning that the younger woman gets is the weyrwoman's own voice calling out, "Excuse me," in a tone that isn't certainly seeking that for herself. The advanced warning jangle of the weyrwoman's keys means Tess does not hit her head, having leaned under the table to squint in the shadows of the table's own making. Her hands are the first part of her immediately apparent, the skin smooth and nails neatly tended to. The care that he woman takes with personal hygiene and aesthetic becomes more obvious as she leans back out, pink lips curling into a pleasant smile. The luster of her glossy blonde hair with its red undertones and flawless (save for the beauty mark) skin on her young face are curiously at odds with the messy-ish twin plaits her hair has been bound into and her disorderly way of wearing her perfectly complementary skirt and sweater combo. "Hi!" is the bright rejoinder, eyes falling habitually to the knot before adding, "Weyrwoman," with raised brows of mild surprise before she's gliding out from under the table and rising out of her crouch. Lilah's brows curve upwards as she sweeps a look over the young woman, though she admits while still remaining in the doorway of that storeroom, "Well, it's better than what I expected to find. There's not many workers who sing down here for any good reason." The weyrwoman has certainly put less care into her appearance, with red-gold hair thrown messily up into a bun and nails trimmed bluntly only to get them out of the way. Her lips have even started to dry and crack with winter, but they still curve into a polite, if reserved, smile at the young woman she doesn't recognize. "Moving in?" she assumes. "They sing aboard ship to make the work lighter," Tess' shoulders roll in a casual shug. "Seems a fairly solid practice to me, so why not adopt?" It's probably over-sharing to go on to say, "I confess, I do a lot of adopting when I find things I like." She puts a hand on the tabletop, "I might adopt this, unless you're keen on it," she flashes a smile that's knowing that the 'excuse me' wasn't meant to stake a claim. "Just arrived, ma'am. I'm Tess," she reaches out a clean hand to the redhead. "Tess, nice to meet you. Lilah," the weyrwoman says, in that off-handed way that people do when they expect the person already knows who they are, at least. "Adopt away. That is what the things in here are for." She studies Tess for a moment longer, brief, before she presses in question, "Is that where you are from, then? A fishing hold?" "Well, no," Tess admits, her smile turning lop-sided. "But we managed a lot of supplies in trade by way of the river. I don't suppose you can call riverboats the same as ships, but their sailors sung all the same. I wonder if their bawdier on the high seas. It seems like the kind of place that could seem to swallow you up in the endless stretch of salty blue and that you could imagine yourself never having to have a care for propriety or society ever again. Maybe the sky is the same way on sweeps. I'll have to ask around. Goldriders don't, do they? Do sweeps I mean?" It hardly answers the question of where Tess is from, but there's no sense that the young woman is being intentionally evasive, just easily distracted. "No, they don't. I've taken on a few since Astivan went missing, and if they are all so pointless and frustrating--. Well, then I am glad that we are spared that responsibility," finishes Lilah with a hint of self-deprecation, her words turning wry even as tension slides through the goldrider's posture that would likely be missed by someone not trained in studying the reactions of others. "We don't sing bawdy songs, either. Though I suppose I shouldn't speak for all of us." "Pointless and frustrating," Tess repeats without judgment, but certainly there's a spark of curiosity as she tilts her head. "I hope you won't think it too forward of me, Weyrwoman, but I've never heard quite that take before. Then again, I really only know..." She counts on her fingers briefly, loses track, tries again, gives up, shaking her hands in the air, "Oh, a handful of riders, really. Why do you find them to be so? I thought dragonriders were all thrill and duty and-" She flutters a hand in the air probably meant to encompass the youthful ideals instilled through some of the more heroic ballads. "It's a shame about the bawdy songs," hers wasn't, but, "some of them are quite creative." A dimple peeks out as her smile turns a bit cheeky, but it's tempered quickly enough. Lilah lifts her fingers in a gesture, a half-wave of dismissal that is her first address of the young woman's question. "Because, we aren't finding anything, when we search for Astivan. Just rumors, but those rumors--. Well, if we'd found him by now, you could be sure that the entire Weyr would know." She pauses, before she continues, "Even when I was a weyrling, they were never all that exciting. In Lessa's time and in Moreta's, it likely was all thrill and excitement, but now it's scrapping by until another Pass." The weyrwoman pauses again, only after thinking to offer Tess a quick smile. "Not to say being bonded with a dragon and being a dragonrider isn't a good thing, if that is where you are inclined. Another turn or so, and Elaruth will likely have another clutch." "The Weyr, the area, the world," Tess agrees of who would know if Astivan had been found. "So there's still no real leads, hm?" The inquiry sounds casual, but there's a certain interest and intensity to the woman's cobalt gaze that belies her manner. "Oh, I don't know," she says of dragonriding with a flash of a smile, "There are probably loads of people better suited to sharing their heads with another than me. Who knows," she pretends seriousness poorly, "Perhaps I'd scare off any lifemate that dared go in there," her gesture indicates her head, but then her smile's broad enough to show teeth. Good humor, she has it! "You'd be surprised at who a dragon may want, sometimes," answers Lilah simply, her own smile only in return for Tess's but not for her part. "That is probably one of many things we'll never understand about them." If she notices that interest in the casual inquiry, the weyrwoman answers without addressing it, without lingering over it. "Some leads that we know were false, some that may have been something, but nothing real, no. But we will find him." "I'm sure I would!" Tess is emphatic, but undaunted. "I read somewhere that dragons aren't, generally, able to articulate why they choose a person, any better than we are at explaining why we love a piece of music or a particular food. Then again, I think that was written by a healer, and who knows if they knew anything about dragons really. Can your..." She pauses briefly to wordlessly inquire Lilah's lifemate's name, even if she should probably know it, "...can remember why she chose you?" She doesn't really pause when she swings from that topic onto the last. "I'm sure you will." It's less confidence than a vote of support. "Has there been any word from the Hold about what they're going to do? You know, for the people effected." Everyone. "Eliyaveith," Lilah supplies, and there's a certain stillness that meets the question, as if the weyrwoman won't answer it. But then she does, stating, "Golds are much more intelligent than the other dragons. She says she chose me because I needed her. Or she may just say that now, because--." She shakes her head, dismissing it, before she focuses on the easier topic, arguably. "We haven't heard word, and the Weyrleaders aren't pressing it. Even if we find Astivan with his marks, they are going to need to do something." "They are?" It's that same bright curiosity, "I hadn't heard that before. It's amazing to think just how much I don't know about dragons," Tess' expression is briefly lost, pondering. "I wonder if what I don't know is the average for people not Weyrbred or Weyr-lived." She doesn't linger on it though, "I suspect all dragons think their lifemates need them, whether or not that's truly the case. Not to pry, but did you? Do you? Can you imagine a life that isn't with her now that she's with you?" The questions come in a flow of that seemingly endless curiosity of hers. "I suppose it's not really Weyr business how the Holds deal with those beholden to them." She contemplates this a moment as well before saying, "I hope the Conclave forces some kind of reasonable response from them. Destitute holdings can't be good for anyone and too many will go hungry if things aren't managed well." She falls silent and in that silence her face betrays how that fact plays on her heartstrings; it's the removed anguish of the powerless. Lilah's brows curve upwards, and there is a flatness to which she attempts to end that line of questioning with, "I certainly thought so at the time. But it is true that a rider can outlive their dragon, even where a dragon cannot outlive its rider." Her fingers fiddle with one of the keys in her pocket, finding some comfort, perhaps, in the stroke of skin against metal as she considers her own response. "It is not, and too often lately it has felt like it is Weyr against Hold. If the Holds feel the same, us trying to press the issue will only make that worse." But, it is clear that perhaps the weyrwoman wants to. Something in the weyrwoman's expression must make an impression on Tess and she simply nods thoughtfully. "Thank you for your insight, weyrwoman, it's... really a lot of food for thought." That she will stuff in her figurative pockets for to gorge on later. "That sounds like a very difficult position to be put into," she acknowledges. "It's not easy to feel powerless," this is said with some resonance of personal experience. "I wonder if it's a moment to use more subtle methods of influence." Her lips purse, "But then I suppose even the subtlest influencing often gets out. A go-between?" She wonders aloud, however vaguely. There is a soft, subtle laugh that wells up in a breath at the statement of powerlessness, huffed out before Lilah muses dryly in turn, "If I knew a subtle way to influence Holder politics, I would certainly try. And then likely get promptly thrown out by The Weyrwoman." The capitals are even pronounced as she offers that without hesitation to Tess. She casts a look towards the table, consideringly, and then back to Tess before offering, "Welcome to Fort." "No doubt." Tess answers of being thrown out with a laugh of her own. It's a bright tinkling sort of sound. A musical laugh. "Well, seems to me the first step is always information. Have you tried cozying up to the Holders or having people cozy up for you?" She's giving it thought. It's decidedly unrelated as she looks at the table and asks, "You don't happen to paint, do you? For fun?" "No," answers Lilah, to both questions. "I will have to consider it. I've never been-- good with the diplomacy side of it all." A pause, before she expands on the second question with a simple suggestion of, "Your best bet would be C'stian. Awkward, tall, wingsecond of Hematite. He paints." "Have you been good at making frien-?" Tess starts but doesn't finish. "C'stian?" She makes gesture of height with a hand. "Dark hair, brown eyes? Was once called Castian maybe?" The young woman's arched brows are raised in inquiry. There is only a sharp, momentary smile for that aborted question, the answer lying there in the flicker across the weyrwoman's expression. But where Tess doesn't ask, Lilah doesn't say. Instead, she nods. "I take it you've met him before?" she questions. "Though, the rumors I have heard-- Now might not be the best time to seek him out." "Yes," to knowing him, but the rest? Tess looks a little bewildered and she's drawn by this new curiosity toward the door. Rumors don't seem to be the kind of thing that one just airs across the kind of space remaining between them. "What rumors? Is he okay?" There's concern in her voice, and a wrinkle of her brow that echoes it. "It seems that N'muir is his father," murmurs Lilah, her own volume adjusting even as Tess draws closer. She punctuates that with a roll of a shrug, as if she's not quite surprised. "He'd known for a while that his father was a dragonrider. That it's the Weyrleader-- Well, he will get over it." "Wait," that's a lot to take in says Tess' face. "Like, N'muir? Like Weyrleader N'muir?" Even as Lilah's already confirming it. Tess rocks back a step. "Wow." She breathes it. "That is quite the revelation for him, I'm sure. Suddenly his boss is also his dad." Weird. "How did he find out?" She has to follow up, the table all but forgotten. "In the Fountain, from what I hear," actually elicits some sympathy from the goldrider and-- yes, a flash of guilt in dark eyes. But, then she straightens with a quick jangle of the keys in her pocket. "Let me know if there is anything you need to settle in while I am down here. I will see if it is feasible." That, however, seems to be a 'goodbye' in her language, since she turns to walk deeper into the hall of storerooms. Tess is leaning out the door after her to wave after she's recovered from the weyrwoman's abrupt goodbye. "Thank you, I will!" It's bright. And if Lilah hears that sharp exhale as Tess steps back into the junk cavern... well, that can't be helped, and she probably wouldn't mind in any case. |
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