Logs:Green Thumb Therapy
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| RL Date: 12 November, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, Lys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo and Lys are both looking for a little peace of mind. They talk a bit. |
| Where: Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions |
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>---< Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr(#2203RJ) >-------------------------------<
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a
refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework
captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the
day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the
dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and
various flora.
Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an
assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike.
Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting
in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving
is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the
softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst
the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this
a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.
Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small
hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with
cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for
irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans
and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting
materials tucked underneath.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Jo F 34 5'8" wiry, black hair, brown eyes 2s
Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s It's after dinner this evening that finds the greenhouse empty save for one lurker. Jo's towards the back of the warm complex, tending a plant that doesn't look like it belongs amongst those within. She has her dark leather jacket off and over another stool to the heat, exposing the scars to be seen all over her arms and shoulders in her tank top while the plant before her gets some grooming. A bronze fire lizard is also on the table before her, curled up and appearing asleep while she works. It's as simple as the opening and closing of a door that makes one lurker into two. Blonde locks have been cropped to just above the shoulder a few stray strands seek to follow the knit cap that's removed in deference to the heat of this place. Lys' soft sigh might be heard in the silence. If that and her footfalls as she wanders isn't warning enough of her presence perhaps her bland observation, "You have scars," will certainly do the trick as she approaches the bluerider. Jo turns the potted plant this way and that as she flicks a few glances towards the entrance - as if she's waiting for someone. The next time she looks up, she finds Lys. She straightens up from her lean with her gaze lingering on what she's doing, so the observation gets a returned, "That I do. Ya look familiar to me, braidin'-hair-girl." She seems to remember. "Mm," might be acknowledgement of the memory, or simply of her familiar looks. Lys doesn't stop, moving to come alongside and look down at the potted plant. "I didn't take you for a nurturer," is more observation. "I don't remember your name, if I knew it. But you were on the cliff the day I put my name in the stone there." Blue-green gaze remains steadily on the bluerider, expression impassive in its thoughtfulness. "I only nurture what doesn' talk back," the answer from Jo comes quick and easy as she watches the weyrling out of the corner of her eye. "It's Jo, 'n yeah. The cliff. Some kind of love letter, I think. My memory fails me that much. A weyrlin', now, is it?" Her dark gaze drop to what she can see of a knot and her clothes. "I was there at the Hatchin'. A green, if I can recall. I imagine all is well?" The green weyrling's clothes are simple tonight, a pair of brown pants and a mauve sweater under a charcoal wool coat. "Guess that means there's no hope of it for me. I'm barely managing not to talk back when it matters in all these lessons." Lys says it dryly, but there's an edge that confirms it as truth, not exaggeration. "Just my name in the cliff. A promise to come back to the place I love." The explanation has been given often enough now that it's become succinct. "Evyth," she confirms. "Lys," is added. "It is. She's asleep, but I couldn't. Thinking too much. Thought I'd walk. Do you mind?" The company, presumably. Brow lifting, "Are ya lookin' for me to nurture ya?" Jo takes that as a tease, the one lightly given despite its wry snark. "Folks are a whole different topic," she goes on to say. "Those, I don' expect silence. Means I'm doin' my job wrong. Evyth." She seems to taste the name of the dragon in her pause before she nods and says, "Lys. I come here to think, myself," and she gestures for the weyrling to pull up a stool as answer to her question of minding. "Plants always calmed me, if not a good brawl. Night's short of brawls, so," the gesture turns to the potted plant before her. "Oh no," a single hand rises to wave off the idea. "I wouldn't saddle you with a hopeless cause." Now that it seems Lys has an answer for Jo minding the company, she shrugs out of her coat and folds it over her arms. Her eyes fall to the plant to consider it. "Brawls and plants. Huh." She narrows her gaze as she looks at the bluerider, "You're a bit of a weirdo, aren't you," is not really a question, though nor does it really seem like the bad kind of judgment. "Yer hopeless, how?" Jo touches on amusement now, just a tad. She watches Lys settle herself as she turns her potted plant to a new side, and the observation draws a soft snort from the wingsecond before she glances at the weyrling and answers, "Huh. That's a new one for me. 'Spose it's better'n bein' called a brazen slut, so, I'll take it." Eyeing her now, "Plants'n brawls aren' weird," she tells her. "Normal where I come from. Well, maybe not the plants, but the brawls are. Bein' a weirdo bad to ya?" she asks now. A lazy sort of smile spread on Lys lips before she offers with a sassy sweetness, head tilting in Jo's direction, "I could call you that too, if it would make you feel more comfortable." She doesn't answer her variety of hopelessness (or did she just then?). More seriously as her head straightens, "Nah. Weirdos are the interesting ones. Normal is boring." Wry, "I get called that enough behind closed doors'n weyrs, thank-ya-very-much," Jo is equally sassy right back, but at least now there's the glimmers of a lopsided grin touching her lips. The last gets an amused nod and a, "We are. Normal can be fun sometimes. I used to fuck with a bronzerider that was considered normal. He had appeal, but it didn' last long. So." She pauses, snipping something small from the plant. "What's keepin' ya up this night?" she asks. "Restlesness? Restrictions startin' to chafe?" "Alright," is too light, to leading, but without the obvious 'if you're sure' attached. "The rest, I'll take your word on. I've never much cared for normal. I'm not even sure I could tell you what normal is, most people are some kind of weird." Lys has a shrug for that, then the coat is shifted a little. "I think it's all just starting to sink in, now that we're having more real lessons, more things we're really expected to learn and know for this life that's-- well, what I have now, I guess. Not that I expected to be Irianke's assistant forever or knew what I'd do otherwise, but. Still a big sort of thing, y'know?" "I don' much, either," Jo says on normal. "I never had a normal childhood, so I guess that's what kept me not so." But it's not a subject she lingers on in favor of what Lys says next. She sets the clippers down to regard the weyrling as she speaks, nodding a bit before she says towards the end, "Yeah, weyrlin'hood's like that, darlin'. It hits ya pretty hard eventually. All of a sudden, ya got all of this responsibility ya didn' have before now. A dragon's life tied to yers. Representin' this place right. All that shit. It can be too much for some, when ya've only had to look after yerself most of yer life." "Mine was probably more normal than anyone would like to imagine." Lys returns with another little shrug. "Someday, maybe we'll exchange stories, if there's booze." Lys isn't going to ask now. "It's hard to be better. Even when I'd give anything not to let her down." Her eyes linger on the plant as she speaks the confession quietly. Blue-green gaze flicks up to the bluerider's face. "I should go. She's dreaming my favorite dream." "I hear ya can have at least one glass," Jo says, nodding on them exchanging stories. "Perhaps sometime. Ya won' let her down. Right now, yer all she sees." She meets that gaze before Lys states she has to go, the wingsecond inclining her head as she says, "Go on, see 'bout her. Ya might catch me again in here sometime. 'Til then, Lys." "Night, Jo," is simple farewell from Lys as she turns to go, pulling on her coat and donning her knit cap before she reaches the exit. |
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