Logs:Spinning
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| RL Date: 4 March, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Farideh, Itsy, Agatha |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis and Agatha discuss spinning, and sailing with Farideh and Itsy. |
| Where: Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 3, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A blanket of cold, dense fog fills the bowl with its oppressive presence and obscures vision. |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Leova/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: As usual feel free to edit/add/remove/change anything I may have missed. |
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>---< Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr(#378RJs) >---------------------<
Just off of the main passageway lies the small cavern that forms the hub
of the residents' quarters, kept immaculately clean by the headwoman's
staff and warmed in cold weather by a stone hearth to the left and well
back from the entrance. Comfortable chairs and a plush fur arrayed before
the hearth make an inviting spot to curl up with a book or handicraft, or
just to sit and chat. Beyond, additional chairs stand in clusters
throughout the room, some upholstered with age-softened hide, some plain
wood. At the widest point of the cavern, a round table gleams with polish,
though its surface is nicked and scarred from Turns of use. Beyond the
table, the very back of the cavern often lies in shadow unless the
glowbaskets there are unlidded to cast cozy pools of light. The commingled
scents of klah, smoke and polish permeate the air along with the sweetness
of rosemary and lavender.
Tapestries hang across the entrances to dormitories and more private
quarters as well as the exit to the outer hall, colorful protections from
drafts. Winter's chill still lingers on, the dense fog hanging over the Weyr well into the afternoon, but the commons room with its fresh pot of klah and wood smoke is inviting. Amid others who have sought out the warmth of the common room, is Edyis, perched in one of the upholstered chairs, dark curls free from their usual braid as she pours intently over a book. One end of the room is host to a small game of cards between some aunties, alternating between playing and a basket of mending. After a few passes and some mild glowering on finding people, Faranth forbid, hanging out in the room designed for people to hang out in, Agatha edges her way to an unoccupied chair and folds her frame into it. Unshouldering a satchel, she sets to fussily unpacking the contents, which consist of a drop-spindle and a few small fluffy clouds of soft llama hair. She ignores the aunties, but there's a polite nod and "Hello," to Edyis before she leans forward and twirls the spindle, letting it twist up the fluff and inch ever closer to the floor. Tousled and wavy chestnut hair frames a face with sharp strong features; Agatha isn't precisely pretty but she draws the eye. Her own eyes are a light hazel, often veiled by dark lashes and hooded lids. Her brows are dark and just a little bit heavy. She uses quite a lot of kohl shadow around her eyes and a dark berry stain on her lips that is almost too striking against her olive complexion. Her clothing, at least, is practical and consists of heavy brown trousers topped by a slouchy sweater. There's a lithe build under all those layers but good luck seeing it in winter months, and she enjoys clomping around in heavy black boots. Dark brown eyes lift, and the once-scribe tips her chin in greeting. It isn't until the other woman begins unpacking that her eyes drift back, away from the lines of text she is supposed to be reading. The spindle and fluff get studied curiously, and finally the book shuts with a soft snap of the pages. "What are you doing?" Softly murmured as she twists in the chair to more fully observe whatever process is about to begin. "Spinning," Agatha answers, gaze flickering between Edyis and the spindle to make sure the yarn twisting off the end of it doesn't snap. Her fingers move like she knows what she's doing, and she's able to look away from the process more often than not. Unsure of how far to take the answering of the question, she adds, "Yarn. For knitting." Agatha would never ask this if Edyis hadn't started talking first, but since she did, "What're you reading?" Edyis lifts the book, smiling sheepishly. "Notes on dragonhealing, and I admit, while I can remember every word of it, understanding it is another matter entirely." Still the book is forgotten in favor of watching Agatha and her spinning. "Do you like knitting? I could never quite get the hang of it. Simple mending sure, but actually getting the needles to work in concert with each other" She trails off as though the horrors of a thousand lumpy sweaters are contained in the silence. "Forgive me but yours is a face I don't think I've seen before. I'm Edyis." She offers softly, her eyes glued to the process of spinning. Agatha's hands work in a rhythm, then after the spindle nears the floor, she picks it up to wrap the finished yarn around the base. Then she sets it spinning again. There's a brief silence from her as well, but more for fixing a thin spot in the yarn than nightmare visions of mangled knitwear. "Yeah. I do. I'm not very good at mending; maybe you get one skill or the other." Re the notes, "Are you just reading about it or do you actually do it?" Her concentration seems to focus a little more on the girl than the spinning at her next statement. "I'm from here. But I've been away with my foster family for a long time. Agatha." "Learning about it. I want to get a firelizard one of these days, so I started to learn the basics from one of the dragonhealers here." The copper-skinned woman explains. The idea that one skill excludes the other does bring a smile to her lips. "Did you like being fostered? I admit it is something of a foreign concept, I grew up in a hold. I don't know much about how someone gets raised in a weyr." With a quirk of her lips, Agatha murmers, "The stitching skills should come in handy then. Are you going to work with dragons too, then, or just firelizards?" Winding up another length of yarn, she considers. "It was all right. I never saw a whole lot of my folks so it was more like my foster parents were my real parents and my real parents were like family friends, sort of. And they had a lot of kids, fosters and...regulars, I guess so we sort of grew up in a pile. Everyone in everyone else's business." Edyis considers the question a while, watching the yarn wind from her seat near the fire. The aunties continue their afternoon card game, cackling every now and again. "I don't know, not sure that I would ever be ready for working with a dragon, I am happy enough that Leova is patient enough to put up with someone barging in on her afternoons once a month." She listens intently as Agatha speaks on growing up in a weyr, nodding every now and then. "You didn't care for it then? Everyone getting into everyone else's business?" Chin propping against her hand, elbow rested on the arm of her chair. Agatha, spinning away at a few handfuls of llama fur in a chair near Edyis, shrugs narrow shoulders. "Was only here until I was 12, then we moved to High Reaches Hold. It wasn't so bad. Sometimes you just want your own spot though, you know? It wasn't much different at the Hold, anyway. S'why I'm back here. Still don't have my own place, but at least I don't have to stay in the nursery." Her expression is mostly deadpan, though a hint of a tease curves the corner of her mouth upward. The sound of Itsy's boots on the floor - stomp, stamp, stomp - is audible before the one-time sailor actually turns the corner into the common room. She's damp-looking, her dreadlocks and braids limp down her back, and her face that combination of pink and white that suggests she's been outdoors in the cold. Reluctance draws her towards the fire, the gaze of her blue-green eyes hidden by the lowly-drawn brim of her hat. "Never was lonely, I'll say that for it." Agatha's gaze follows Edyis' nod and one hand pinches the spindle, stopping the spin so she can lift her free hand in a little wave to Itsy. It's not - probably not - that Itsy is deliberately evesdropping, but her grunt of greeting is as much a bark of laughter as it is that. "You think this is cramped--" she says, meaningfully, turning her head so that she can glance - probably glance - in the direction of the two other girls. "Got a cot of your own, don't you? What more d'you need, really?" Edyis studies the sailor at her bark, curiously. "I wouldn't mind having a nice quiet bit of space where I don't have to worry who is going to barge in sobbing because some boy broke their heart, or my roomates manage to start snoring in chorus." Edyis answers with a sniff. Her attention directed back to Agatha and her spindle. Agatha's answer to Itsy is an arch of dark brows, then a return of concentration to her spinning. Without looking away from the spindle she remarks to one and then the other, "I didn't /ask/ for more than a cot," and, "Well, I'll try not to sob or snore." This time, at least, Itsy's laugh is lighter - less bark, more honest amusement, though there's a wrinkle to her brow as if she's not quite sure how to take the reaction she's received. "Meant," she explains, "Try living on board a ship, with a hammock you share according to the watch, and a dozen or more smelly, snoring sailors." Beat. "But I'll accept the sobbing. Never did understand crying women. Weirdos." Edyis chuckles, at both girl's replies. For Agatha, "I am sure you will be fine! I doubt if you did you could manage the obnoxious whistling quality that one of the girls has. How does a person whistle through their nose!" Her gaze shifting between them, "You win. I don't think I could handle being around a man who didn't bathe, at least not without dumping a bucket of sudsy water over his head." And at Itsy's second point, the former scribe grins. "Come sit with us. It is nice and warm over here." "A /hammock/," Agatha repeats, looking as though she's not sure if Itsy is having her on. "So when you say 'shared', do you mean like you had to be in there with someone? Because how did it not-" The rest is a gesture, a flipping of her hand palm up to palm down. And a nose-crinkle of agreement on the subject of men who do not bathe. "Well," points out Itsy, after a moment, her wide mouth opening to show her teeth, "You smell, too. Can't avoid it, on ship. Can't waste clean water like that, eh?" She hesitates, as if weighing up the offer to join the two girls, but finally, spare in movement, takes a seat. "No, no, you're in there alone. Most of the time. There's shifts, see. When you're on deck, someone else's got the hammock. Reeks something awful, but." Dark eyes go wide at Agatha's gesture, clearly that wasn't a thought that had occurred to the girl. "Ew." Is all she has to say for it, visibly relieved a little at Itsy's explanation of shifts. "But aren't you surrounded by the sea? Why not use a bucket of that to wash with?" Curious now, and torn obviously between the fascination of spinning and a life at sea. Agatha also looks relieved to hear about the hammock situation, despite the stench. With that cleared up, she takes up the spinning again. "Suppose that makes more sense. Why...yeah, what she said." She tips her head towards Edyis. "There's tons of water, right?" "Salt water," says Itsy, after a somewhat bewildered pause. "Briny, dirty, smelly salt water. Never swum in the ocean, have you?" Her own gaze falls towards Agatha's spinning, but without lingering; it flicks up again, shortly, coursing about the room in idle interest. Around the corner and into the common room, with a ho-hum expression on and a cup with a spoon occupying her hands, Farideh ambles with no obvious intent. She looks so bored on this winter's afternoon, but the familiar voices by the hearth pull her focus almost immediately. "Smelly water?" with her nose wrinkling, her path angling towards the other girls. Slim brows lift as she sidles up next to the sailor's chair, her eyes pausing in turn on each of them, and when she finds an unfamiliar face, her mouth curves into a pleasant smile. "Hello." "I have, but I would think seawater would smell better than unwashed men. Unless, was your ship run by girls like you?" Not that unwashed bodies don't all smell unpleasant. Her gaze shifts then, the familiar voice attracting her attention. "Farideh!" She offers in greeting. "This is Agatha, and" She indicates the spinning woman, and then her brows furrow suddenly as she realizes she does not have a name for Itsy. "Oh," is all Agatha has to say about salt water, quite clearly being a landlubber. Then, "Oh...I have to run." Hastily she packs her spindle and wool into her bag and, with a polite nod and a "Nice to meet you," to Farideh while blowing by her, she hustles out of the room. Itsy's answer to this is short: "Salt itches," she says. Further explanation is put off as she rises up from her chair to greet Farideh with what is very plainly an enthusiastically warm smile; rather unlike the ones she's been sharing thus far. Her, "Hello," is a little more cautious, though still genuine and not far off warm. Agatha's departure scarcely gets a glance as a result. The spinner's abrupt departure earns a curious stare, and then Farideh scoops whatever treat she's got in her cup and sticks the spoon into her mouth. "Hm," is all she notes, before returning her eyes to the two girls left over. Waving the spoon towards Itsy at the same time that she sits on the arm of the chair the sailor's just stood up from, she fills in Edyis' blank. "This is Itsy. Have you two just met?" Her amused hazel eyes shift between the two girls, her smile stretching wider. Edyis watches Agatha depart with a mild frown. It is Itsy's greeting of Farideh that gets a second more curious look before the former scribe smirks to herself and opens her book back up. "Only just." The barkeep offers with an odd smile, amusement sparking in her eyes. With Farideh sitting down, and on the arm of her chair at that, Itsy seems to have no choice but to resume her seat, though she's a little stiff in the process, carefully positioning herself not overly close to the other girl, but not on the other side of the chair, either. "Itsy," she agrees, managing to pick up the thread of the conversation again. "And you are?" "Now?" Farideh looks surprised, but not overly concerned about sharing a seat - if arms count - with the dreadlocked girl; she looks comfortable. "I could have sworn I introduced you two earlier. Itsy, sailor, Edyis, waitress," she says, regardless of Edyis' own introduction of herself, and continues to glance between the two women with rising interest. Edyis eyes shift back up from the page at Itsy's question and Farideh's introduction. Her tone cordial and amused, "I'm sure I would have remembered if you had. I tend to remember people with interesting stories." Like life at sea on a ship with men or women who don't bathe. "Among other things. How are you today Farideh?" There's that bark of a laugh again; Itsy plainly doesn't see her story as especially interesting, though she's equally not offended. Still, she seems more genuinely interested in Farideh's answer to Edyis' question, turning her head so that she can glance, sidelong, at the other teen. "Isn't it? I still don't know how you do it. All those men and water and no proper bed." The laundress makes a face that shows her amount of distaste with the idea of spending months on the sea. "You're braver than me." Farideh swings one of her legs out and huffs an irritated sigh, for effect. "I'm tired of the cold. I'm tired of being cooped up inside this," lifting a hand upwards, "giant rock. I want to go swimming, or to a party, or see a garden with actual flowers and no snow. I'm b-o-r-e-d." The barkeep's lips twitch at the laughter, though not unkindly. "Indeed, she is a very able person." A note of respect in Edyis's voice, though Farideh's opining has Edyis thoughtful. "You know I have this contract." She starts fingers tapping the page of her book absently, as she looks between the two teens. "Turnday gift, transport for one day. Rider may or may not be included. If you guys wanted to go some place?" She offers hesitantly. "And you like men," points out the sailor, in a way that makes it sound almost like an affectionate tease... almost. It's the rest of the conversation, though, that has her sighing; for a moment, she's plainly wistful. I want to see the sea," she says, though the moment she's said it, it's as if something has frozen inside her; as if she's suddenly remembered herself, and shut everything down. "But I don't do dragons. You two should go." "I don't like men nearly enough to spend my entire life with them aboard a ship with no privacy," Farideh helpfully points out. It's Edyis' proposition that has her head canting to the side, her expression considering while she stirs her cup with the spoon. "If it's someplace warm and not the desert, I'm in--" Her gaze shifts suddenly to Itsy, with some surprise, the full brunt of her attention falling on the shorter woman. "No? What's wrong with dragons?" Edyis studies the pair of them thoughtfully. "So far as dragons go, Ilicaeth isn't so bad. It would just be the ride there and back. I also happen to know someone who just got in a really good shipment of rum and might be able to borrow a bottle, or wine if you prefer. Maybe that Istan beach? Or there's a pretty one near Monaco too that stays pretty quiet." She attempts to tempt Itsy along. Itsy's shudder rather seems involuntary; she shakes her head, several times quickly in succession. "No," she says. "No, just... go without me. I'm fine. Don't need to get out; you two have fun." Her shoulders are tight and sharp, now, hunched in upon themselves, her head lowered in such a way to make it impossible to see her face beneath the brim of her hat. She - and Farideh and Edyis - are sitting near the hearth, Farideh on the arm of Itsy's chair. While Edyis tries to tempt Itsy along, Farideh is simply regarding the other girl with gathering concern that draws her brows together. "It's fine-- if you don't want to come. We would love to have you along, but," she tries settling a hand gingerly on Itsy's shoulder, "don't worry about it if you don't want to." She aims for a bright smile, lifting her eyes to Edyis in silent supplication. "It's nothing like being a ship, that's for sure. They're probably as opposite as milk and vinegar." Edyis is for her part now silent, listening intently though her attention seems to have shifted back to the book. "You would be missed, but I am sure you have your reasons for not wanting to come." To Farideh's statement of milk and vinegar, she nods almost absently. "Took me a long time to stop being afraid of them, there are still a few I wouldn't cross. Between isn't pleasant either." Itsy's answer, now, is sharp: "I'm not afraid." It's also dismissive. She rises, shoulders still hunched, and begins to hurry away; no more words to say. The hand gets jerked back and Farideh watches Itsy retreat with a frown. "Is it me, Edyis?" while she slips casually into the chair Itsy's vacated, draping her legs over the arm. "That makes two who've left since I showed up. Do I have something on my face?" Edyis tilts her head. "Couldn't say with Agatha, but with Itsy, I think it was more what I said. She likes you." If the word like has a double meaning Edyis expression certainly does not indicate it. "That was a fear reaction though, if I have ever seen one. That or she thinks they are gross." Tilting her head as the book closes again. "Who knows, isn't she one of the ones that got rescued in that storm last turn?" "I can't think that she would think travelling by ship for the rest of her life would be very feasible. You can't get very far that way. Either here, or--" Farideh frowns, and chooses instead to stuff her mouth with the yogurt-y substance she's been snacking on. "I guess. I don't remember. All I know is, she's a sailor on one of Lord Devaki's ships and she's waiting, with Drex, for their new ship to be built or something." Edyis arches both brows at that. "The grumpy guy who probably likes you or possibly doesn't but you don't know if you like him; it's complicated one?" Rattling the statement off like the plot of some cheesy harper romance. "Who knows what she is thinking. Can't say what she wants is any more unrealistic than some of the other dreams I've heard in this place." "Who says he's grumpy?" the laundress demands less-than-irritably. "It's complicated. I don't know if he likes me, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it." Farideh leans her head back against the opposite arm of the chair she's sitting in, tapping the back of her spoon against her lips. "I think he's cute, and part of me likes arguing with him over stupid stuff. I get a funny feeling when I see him. I don't know. What do you think?" She lifts her head again, looking over at Edyis. "What kind of dreams?" "I think, he's trouble. " Edyis answers immediately, not a shred of hesitation in her voice. "Men always are though. It really depends on what you want out of him. If you are after a fun bed-warmer and you are being smart about it, the more power to you. " She sighs studying her friend with a concerned furrow of her brows. "If you want something more substantial than that I couldn't tell you. Other than be careful." Of dreams, she shrugs. "Wanting to choose your own life, rather than having it picked for you in your case. In mine?" A beat. "I want to travel I think. To know what there is to know. Maybe find a way to earn a few more marks." She smirks self depreciatingly. Farideh takes Edyis' advice with narrowed eyes, but she doesn't say anymore of Drex or her would-be feelings for the sailor, favoring putting another spoonful of dessert in her mouth instead. She sighs after, letting her head drop back, and twirls the spoon while she ponders. "Marks are not the only thing in this world. You'll find they're quite dissatisfying, in the end. You could have all the marks in the world, and then what? Travelling is honorable. You could become a sailor, like Itsy." The narrowed eyes, she notices and looks extremely apologetic. The topic changes, though and Edyis seems grateful for it. "I don't know that I could handle being on a ship all the time, maybe take up with some traders or find some old coot who wants to teach me something interesting. Who knows what is even possible anymore." Edyis says, "What would you do?" "You could always be a candidate for Niahvth's eggs." Farideh's spoon hits the bottom of her cup and she frowns, shifting to put her feet on the ground and sit up normally. "Being a dragonrider would allow you to travel and see everything. Not that it seems particularly lucrative." She leans to the side, forearm on the chair arm, and considers Edyis. "Or, go be a trader, though I would be sad if you did go. I fought for change but I find I don't like it too much." It's at the end of her words, with a sad smile, that she stands and yawns. "I think I'm going to take a nap. You staying here?" Edyis sighs considering that. "I could, but - that would mean there is a possibility of being transferred to Igen. I guess though, if I was thinking about doing something different either way wouldn't be such a bad option." Tilting her head at Farideh she smiles. "Change is difficult, but it has its own rewards even if they don't always seem evident at first." Her eyes fall to her book then. "I will stay in here a while longer I think." "Igen isn't so bad a place. It's not the Reaches, but-- Irianke is a good woman." Farideh stops a moment to look at Edyis, truly look at her, and then skirts the chair on her way towards the inner portion of the resident dorms. "I'll see you later." "See you Farideh." She smiles, but sometime after the laundress departs, the book closes and Edyis pulls to her feet. Heading to parts unknown. |
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