Logs:Linnea Searched!
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| RL Date: 19 December, 2004 |
| Who: Amilin, Josilina, Linnea, Satiet, V'lano |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Linnea is Searched. |
| When: Day 1, Month 8, Turn 1 (Interval 10) |
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| You head towards the lake shore. Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr Linnea's eyes widen appreciably, and she takes a few sloshy steps across the sand, missing V'lano's flush as she's busy splashing up a small amount of water and spreading ripples as she moves toward the gathering pile. "Goshness, thank you. Tell her thank you? Unless she can understand person- talk not from you. Then she could hear me. I guess. Anyway, that'll at least save me getting soaked, if the sand is piled up some. But how to make all of the rest turquoise? That I don't know." "I hear orange is a good color," V'lano replies to Ami with a grin that's quite a bit easier in coming than the one he'd put on for the weyrwoman's hatching- grounds-emptying suggestion. "Perhops a little bit of both. It might even make up for the - " Lowering his voice to a stage whisper - "-grey eggs.-" Josilina's attention to the sand-heap draws his as well, but he finishes unbooting and even stuffs his socks into the tops of the boots before straightening, bare toes squirming in the pleasantly damp sand, to stare blankly at Dasmareth's work. Blankly, he suggests, "Maybe fabric dye would work and... we... just don't know because we've never tried?" "You can look into the possibilities, experiment on what dyes take..." Really, Ami's probably being helpful. Distracting Jos from a bad idea a simply, well, silly one. Dasmareth warbles cheerfully and nudges the pile again, sending more of it Linnea's way, and then adding a croon after, "Oh. She can understand you well enough. Though..." The greenrider winces at the slight sand slide towards the girl, "...That was her way of saying your welcome." Just think, Ami gets to live with Das, all the time too. V'lano's suggestion just causes her to lift a hand to her mouth so she might bite a knuckle to keep from laughing. Doesn't work though. After a moment she's able to reply, "Oh, quite a good color, yes. Just the thing to showcase the grey." A small group of girls wander in from the bowl, the hyper chatter of teenagers on too much sweetening rise like a mass of twittering wherries - namely indiscernible in any specific subject due to the overlap of comments. Satiet's slight figure is central, damp hands brushing against the sooty apron around her waist. Her chin tilts towards one particular speaker, approval in the slight nod of her head, though her next words are decidely cool, "Don't you have better things to do than talk about a boy's hair? Chores, perhaps?" A pointed look is tossed over her shoulder back towards the Weyr proper, which the other girls take this as a cue to disperse, but not without casting a few unhappy glances towards the lake. "As noisy as the aunties at home." A quick scan brings a few group of people into her vision and interest sparks as she recognizes one of them, Linnea, and begins heading her way. Josilina shoots V'lano a scandalized look that gets a warning look at the mention of the gray eyes. "You." Seems he's lost name privledges. "You /know/ we don't talk about those." She hisses rather urgently. Rather as if the poor eggs were embarressing mistakes. "We should try." She says, for the dye, though now she's addressing Amilin. V'lano is ignored. And so is Ami, after her last. "/Ami/." Now only Linnea, it seems, is attention worthy. Eyeing the sand pile again, "How're you going to get all that inside?" She wonders. Satiet and her approach get a wave. Linnea looks doubtful at this idea. "Why would we use that much dye on sand? Unless we could make clothing that contained some. Then it might be more useful." She hunches over, careful to keep her lace-edged blouse clear of too much water, and scoops some sand into her container, just as some slides off the top of the pile toward her, covering her above the ankles. "I suppose I'm here for a while. As for inside? I suppose I'll make several trips." Grey eggs? Not discussed; taboo. Gaggle of girls? Li raises her chin, standing as proudly as she's able while close to knee-deep in water and ankle-deep in sand. "I was thinking more along the lines of hiding them," V'lano admits with a wry grin toward Amilin; to Josilina, he offers a helpless shrug and the excuse, "Hiding them! So they...er... won't be embarrassed about their... color. They could hide in the orange and blue sand." Again with the stage whisper, including a not-very-subtle point behind his hand at Josilina for Ami's benefit: "I don't think she likes the grey!" But the Telgari's eyes are cheerful and he turns away from riders green and gold to dare a few steps past his boots toward the water's edge. "You'll need help carrying all of that sand. I think your pail's not going to manage it," he notes, regarding the sand-heap's slump toward Linnea. "Maybe that's the work I've been looking for!" Amilin You see a slender woman, whom appears to be in her later-twenties or so. Regular hours spent outside have done little to darken a fair complexion to tan, thus leaving it to be offset by wavy, light brown hair. Tresses that may fall to the small of her back when unbound are currently caught up in a loose, yet artistic knot, with a few stray tendrils delicately framing her face. If you catch her gaze you'd likely note her greenish-gray eyes, and though nothing else about her features is remarkable she might be considered pretty by some. The billowy, cream, sisal shirt, with medium-length sleeves and v-necked collar, lays loosely to her hips, over her skirt. A long and flowing, deep mauve swirls about her ankles as she walks, giving glimpses of her matching slippers. On her shoulder is a High Reaches Weyr AWLM knot with a cord of green woven in and a Dragonhealer Capable's patch. Josilina Josilina is generally unremarkable in her build, of both average weight and height, standing at just short of five and a half feet. Kept long, her hair, when left loose, hits mid-back as a mass of copper curls that tend to frizz, particularly in damp weather. Her blue eyes are set beneath contrasting sienna 'brows and faded freckles sprinkle her face, falling particularly thick across the bridge of her nose and fading as they approach her rounded chin that tends to set so stubbornly. She looks to be somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties. (+detail available) White and sleeveless, Josilina's button-down blouse is made for the warmer months. A few simple pleats down the front add decoration to the top but it is, in general, far outshone by her skirt. Bright and rainbow striped the skirt ends at her knees and hangs baggily around her legs, cinched in at the waist for a better fit. It sits a little awkwardly, but who can really notice, with all that color? She wears white sandals on her feet; a braided choker of blue, green and yellow ribbons at her throat and her hair is tied back in a 'tail by her red and white scarf. V'lano Tousled, sometimes fly-away curls frame a sun-drenched face made rough over the bridge of the nose and above generous brows from much time out of doors. Dark eyes framed by lashes too long for a young man's face express every little thing that comes into his head, saving him the trouble of much talking. His nose is a little narrow, but the even, smooth lips beneath it are not unpleasing, and a frame of smoothly curled hairs in the brackets of his mouth sets it off to advantage. His hands are slender and as expressive as his eyes, softened by much time in dragon-hide oil. He appears to be somewhere in his early twenties. A tunic of undyed linen flows loose over his sinewy arms and even chest. Its pale fabric makes a swath down his torso, framed on either side by a cardigan sweater left open, woven in a dark sienna yarn. Trousers of coarser fabric tuck neatly into boots of harder leather, both likely chosen for ease of motion and cleaning. A fleece-lined wingrider's jacket graced with the badge of Telgar's Icewind wing provides footing for the simple rider's knot run through with a bronze thread. Linnea Neatly styled brown curls start above a high forehead, then are tied back at the base of her neck by a blue ribbon. A slender nose crooks slightly to one side, and below it, slight lips give way to an almost pointed chin. She appears to be in her late teens or early twenties. Blue eyes framed by arched brows are the light of her face, often reflecting mirth or amusement and lending some levity to her appearance. Fitted tan breeches are barely visible beneath a lengthy blue skirt that allows her some freedom of movement. A blouse with long sleeves buttons tightly at the neck and at the wrists, and there strips of starched and forcibly whitened lace offer modest points of decoration. In cold weather, Linnea often wears a long dark blue many-pocketed wool coat, a likely hand-me-down with handsewn alterations. Tan heeled boots complete the ensemble, aiming to gain a bit on the girl's average height. Amilin sends a glance at the group nearby, nodding to any that might look her way. It's jos that gets a chuckle, "It would distract you from the fact it's -sand- Jos." She's used to being in trouble. "Because Jos likes color." She explains to Linnea, but as she turns to reply to V'lano's aside, Das moves around the sand pile to lay coiled, blocking the girl between herself and the acquired pile. "You don't say. Maybe we should ban it from the color charts, just for her?" The dark-haired girl makes her way around a rather largish rock, coming up near the Telgari rider. "Hiding what?" No matter that she's intruding on a conversation, Satiet's alto slips in innocuously as if it were there the entire time. Really. The rest of the conversation is given a look of complete askance, V'lano sized up in one top to bottom and back gaze. "H'lo." One by one, each of the group is given a quiet look of assessment before a smile of varying degrees of welcomeness is offered. The last is reserved for the girl knee-deep in water, a satisfied feline-like smile, followed by an amused inquiry, "Linnea, what in Faranth's name are you doing?" "Because it's pretty." Is Josilina's prompt reply to Linnea. V'lano gets an incredulous look, "Hide them with /orange/? That's nearly as bad! What are you trying to -blind- them?" But she's not talking to him and as that's remembered she looks away hastily. Away to... Dasmareth, eyebrows raising in some surprise as the green blocks Linnea in. Satiet is now going unnoticed, as she's so busy ignoring V'lano and anyone very nearby him. Linnea's thin lips pull back infinetesimally into a smile at the idea of color- changing the eggs. "You could probably hire some artists, you know? To paint the ones you don't like. Then they could be your favorite color, maybe not orange? and that would take far less dye than changing the whole sands." Realizing belatedly that the sand-pile is now inaccessible, she looks to V'lano. "Guess you'll have to move it. I can't reach it now." Satiet's question initially earns a soft, "Great." Slightly louder, she adds, "Finding a good excuse to shirk chores. Don't suppose you have a handy bucket?" "Sst," hisses V'lano toward Amilin. "Sst, sst. SST." He draws a finger across his throat repeatedly as the greenrider goes on about painting eggs, making efforts at symbolically explaining that this is a somewhat undesired direction of conversation. But then there are some options for other conversations entirely, and he tries to make the most of both of them. Turning around in the water he greets the H'loer with a "H'lo" of his own and a seemingly shy wave, then notes, "A very large bucket." His expression, fixed on the green dragon now, is that of someone who is utterly lost. How did he get here again? "Heyla." Amilin greets in return, then chuckles, "Well, they would surely notice the orange before the grey. You have to admit...No? Ahh well." The greenrider gives a wink for that, "We've been wondering when she might paint them... Jos is a fair artist herself, actually." V'lano she blinks at innocently, then assures, "She didn't last time. We figure Lhia won't let her." She gives her dragon a sidelong look then and rolls her eyes. "Let her finish, Das." And Das, for her part, just returns the bronzerider's look. Being ignored doesn't sit well with Satiet, but after a long narrowed look at Josilina, she too shifts her head towards another direction, that being the green that's blocking Linnea in. Lips twitching downward from the smile that was on her lips, she shakes her head, hair tossing loftily. "You shouldn't shirk chores, it's just not done." But her eyebrows rise in interest and she attempts a few steps towards the other girl before stopping short. Her hand rifles helplessly through her hair, "No bucket. I have hands though? What do you need a very large bucket for? Dunking eggs in? Painting eggs? Omelet eggs? Eggs?" Blue eyes flicker quickly between Amilin and V'lano, confusion breaking through the facade of disinterest on her face. "I could paint them myself." Josilina says with a shadow of a grimace. "But that Lhia won't let me." She tilts her head in slight acknowledgement to Amilin's statement of that same fact. "I'm waiting for her to be very, very asleep - /I can hear you hissing/." She attempts to glare over her shoulder without turning and, truthfully, fails utterly. "Actually, shirking chores is done quite often." She smiles now at Satiet, now that the girl's stepped more towards Linnea. "It just -shouldn't- be done. Technically. Hello. And I think a bucket's needed to help Linnea with all this sand." She nods to the pile. Linnea, chin raised, answers Satiet first, "Well, I'd like your advice on how to get to my neat pile of sand with her in the way. And no, not omelets. I don't suggest you talk omelets in this particular instance. I'm gathering sand. Or I was, at least." As proof, she holds up the pot she's collected some in. "See?" Then she's distracted. "Well, nix on the painting, then. Maybe just stick some sand to them in nice patterns? Oh, but you don't like sand either. Scratchy wool, that." "Our eggs," V'lano explains toward Satiet, flicking a significant glance toward Josilina. Humans lay eggs - that's how it's done at Reaches - didn't she know? "Sorry," he adds, shoulders hunching and chin dropping as the fact that his subtlety just, isn't, is called out by the goldrider. "Maybe a stepladder? You could probably climb over her," the bronzerider suggests, wading toward shore with a way eye on the green. "If she'd let you." Dasmareth warbles, but the only movement she makes is to lay her tail in the way now, blocking Linnea in farther. Not exactly a cage, but certainly the faint sketch of one? "She's not shirking." The greenrider states, going on with, "Jos. I don't think Lhia will ever be that deeply asleep, unless she's sure you are. And even if you managed it, she'd still know it was you." Ami smiles for Linnea's suggestion and murmurs, "It'll be slip covers next." But she's rather distracted from that thought as she moves back towards her green, "You're in the way, lump. What good does it do to pile it for her if you wont let her have it." Disapproval flicks briefly in Satiet's eyes at the mention of more chore shirking, before a more congenial look surfaces. It's all in how you shirk, and obviously handing them off to someone else isn't shirking - it's delegation. "No omelets then," she remarks placidly, "There's buckets in the storage caverns, some in the kitchens to help chuck out the meat bones and fish bones and innards that people don't eat in. I could get one of those for you, but it might contaminate your sand. Smelly too." Never mind the task at hand garners a dubious look. "You could dye sand and sprinkle it over the eggs. Harmless as long as you don't over do it." After her own suggestion is tossed into the growing mound, she peeks at Dasmareth. "Swim around her? Toss him the bucket?" Chin jerks towards V'lano. Josilina is difficult, not liking gray, orange -or- sand. "Scratchy wool? Sand is, or we should stick wool on the eggs? - Our /dragons'/ eggs." She calls a correction of V'lano's words, still not looking at him. "You could try jumping her tail, if you're a high jumper." Judging by Jos's grimace and slant of her mouth, she's not serious in her suggestion. "She might. And she wouldn't necessarily know it was me. I could blame it on... someone else." There's someone else in the Weyr who'd paint eggs? "We already talked about dyeing sand. It got nixed, for some reason. I'm not sure why." Linnea looks quite warily at the sparkly green who blocks her path, momentarily mesmerized by the reflective patches of auburn and red as they catch the light bouncing off of the lake. So absorbed is she that she fails to notice she's been caged until...she's been caged. "My. Goodness. They are friendly, aren't they?" Her voice is a trifle over-bright, as though compensating for an iota of fear. "I'm afraid I can't jump so well, when wet especially. And, ah, thank you, but I don't think a meat-bucket would do. This sand is for removing stains, not causing them. But if we turned some sand red, then maybe the eggs would be suitable and, oh. This has gone in circles, hasn't it?" "They're friendly, yes," V'lano remarks, one brow lowering to cast a shadow over a frankly confused eye. "Normally friendly in more... " A wary gaze is sent toward Amilin, and he chooses his words more carefully. "Obviously understandable ways. You know, nuzzling, being helpful, making piles of sand. I've never been caged in but by my own Volath." His shoulders rise and fall, the eyebrow relaxing, and he finishes his approach to shore. Heading for his boots in a half-arc that keeps him well out of Dasmareth's way, he notes, "Maybe she has a different idea for the sand?" "She'd know, Jos." Ami assures, but that's still an absent reply as she concentrates her green. One eye brow slowly lifts and she chuckles softly, "She says she'll move, Linnea, after you answer a question for her. I'm sorry to say, she's rather the stubborn sort, once she gets an idea she likes stuck in her head." A grin is slanted V'lano's way. "Das has her own, unique form of logic. Probably comes from a mix of eating too many fish growing up, playing too many hours of Rock. And of course, over exposure to her ledgemate." She skips tempting fate by ceasing her listing of her dragon's bad influences right there. "Well then, I suppose it's just best to leave them as is. Dragon's forget easily though, don't they? She can't stay upset at you too long, if she even finds out who it is in the first place." The last statements are said in a blithe way that indicates Satiet? - she has no true clue on the inner workings of dragon and rider. Bemused, she watches first Josilina's actions and then Linnea's with the green. Cupping a hand around her mouth, she calls out the obvious towards V'lano, "I think she's ignoring you, but not very well." Amilin is darted a questioning look, eyes a trifle wide at Dasmareth's blockage and then the subsequent comment about a question. It takes a moment's bit of brow-furrowing thought before a knowing smirk towards Linnea mars the girl's features. Josilina muses a little, "I've gotten trapped in by other dragons before. But not often. Usually, yeah, it's more ...obviously understandable." It's pretty safe to say, at this point, that Jos is terrible at ignoring people. So far, all she manages is keeping her back to V'lano. Which involves some odd shuffling as he moves for his boots. "Don't forget singing The Song." She mock-whispers to Amilin. So helpful with fate tempting lists, isn't she? Linnea's face falls somewhat, not exactly finding encouragement in V'lano's words. "Well. If she'd tell me about it, I wouldn't mind sharing the sand." An idea strikes, and she can't fret for long. "Perhaps she thinks there needs to be more in the hatching cavern, instead of out of it? Or else, we need to warm some more. I was wondering how it gets warm in the first place." Chattering on, standing in the water, Li couldn't be less troubled, or perhaps she's just a trifle nervous. "Rock? Oh dear. I suppose I'd be happy to answer, if only the question isn't 'will you be Rock next'? Because that doesn't sound like very much fun. But singing? That could be." "Rock?" V'lano cants his head toward Amilin, one eye narrowing - a grin forms around the repeated word, curiousity making a question of it. "The Song?" Similar presentation, directly toward Josilina; in fact, he makes himself a challenge to ignore now, picking up his boots and trodding bare-footed around the sand-lump, green dragon, and River Bend girl toward the other riders, seeking explanations. "Do you think she wants to play?" He twists around to eye Linnea, blinking at her predicament. "She's not - you know. It doesn't seem she is, anyway." "Let's not bring that up, shall we? And I'll behave and not mention the non colors again today." Amazing how quick that bargain was offered from Ami, hmm? "Actually, that's pretty close to what Das is thinking at least. However, it's not sand she'd like to place there." She straitens as she asks, her voice more formal for the moment, "Linnea, of River Bend. It's my honor to invite you to stand for Lhiannonth's and Volath's clutch, currently on our sands. Her question, isn't about rock, but if you'll agree to stand?" A moment later, she adds, "And trust me, Rock is better than hearing her rendition of -that- song. -- Not what?" Satiet parrots the others, curiosity overcoming most of her reservations, "Song?" In any case, when the Amilin finally asks the question the knowing smile curves up more, but other comments are stayed by a voice calling her name from the nebulous boundary between bowl and lake shore. "I'll be seeing you later, soon perhaps depending on your answer." A hand lifts to wiggle cheerily at the other potential candidate, slight inclines of her head offered towards the riders, before she heads off along her merry way towards her initial destination, the diving cliff. You meander across the thin strip of land between the main lake and smaller pond, winding through rocks and boulders. As you near the southern bowl wall, the path begins to incline, taking you to a plateau several dragon lengths above the lake against the southern wall. |
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