Logs:Bringing Breakfast
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| RL Date: 9 May, 2015 |
| Who: C'ris, Edyis, Yesia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: C'ris stops by in a break, meets Edyis then Yesia. |
| Where: Weyling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Though overall pleasant, the temperature has dropped just below the freezing mark, enough to allow the lightest sprinkle of snow to fall from the skies. |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions |
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All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a
large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the
bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the
furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed
chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone
tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the
tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the
room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there.
What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a
detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden
door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance
is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the
barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also
home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old
and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable. There was a point, where Edyis was taller than her brown. Not that she remembers it anymore, the flame-licked creature laying on his belly as she works oil into wing and wing joint. "You couldn't have been a tiny green." She mutters to Akluseth, who only chuffs at her, the draconic equivalent of laughter. It is early in the morning, and much of the day waits ahead. Oiling is first though. Dawn drills have just ended for Frostbite, some measure of time between those drills and assigned sweeps that sees C'ris looping to the weyrling barracks instead of elsewhere. He juggles a carafe of klah in one hand, even his fingers twined into the handles of individual mugs, and a basket of baked goods in the other, while still yet managing to keep one of those scones between his teeth. He likely didn't think that out entirely, because it isn't as if he could take a bite of it now without losing it. Still he offers a muffled greeting to Edyis as he steps in from the bowl, what might be a 'Hey' or a 'Hi'! Ink-dark eyes focus then on the carafe and pastry juggling bluerider. A rumbling warble offered in greeting to the new face. It's possible that she completely calculates the "You the new slave labor?" with a mischievous grin wiping the oil from her fingertips with a spare rag. The scone slips as C'ris tries to mumble a response, dropping to the stone floor and bringing down the bluerider's gaze with it to stare forlornly at it for a moment even as he utters a light, not-too-bothered, "Shit." But then he's moving again, setting aside the jug and basket as he answers Edyis brightly, "Yep! I guess. Not really a slave, I guess, because I could quit at any time, but they're not paying me, so." Once his hands are free, he reaches for that grounded scone and starts to brush it off. "I'm C'ris." "So, slave labor." She grins, working more oil into joints and pinions. "Edyis." She returns, watching him and the scone amused. "I'm afraid to ask why you would want to deal with a bunch of weyrlings, but..." Giving him a once over with a smile as he dusts off the scone. "I am going to place my marks on you being a glutton for punishment." Slipping down now, Edyis wipes the oil from her fingers. "So do I have that right or are you one of those with noble intent?" C'ris' shoulder rolls up into a shrug, his own grin flashing at Edyis' bet before he bites without hesitation into his scone. Around chewing, he answers, "I liked my weyrlinghood. I mean, it was difficult and Mivength was an adjustment and all of that, but Quinlys and the weyrlingmasters-- You know, they made me into who I am today. Is that noble?" He moves closer to the weyrling, for all that likely won't help with the echoing of the room, but it does bring him closer to the dragon there to offer gently, "You aren't causing her much trouble yourself are you, young man?" Akluseth snorts, at the question aimed at him, eyes whirling in soft blues and greens. Edyis arches a brow at the mention of Quinlys making anyone into who they are, but she shrugs. "I am sure she would tell you it is a mostly thankless job." "I don't know. I'm sure people thank her. I guess I probably've never said thanks, though, come to think of it," C'ris muses, scrubbing a hand through fluffy hair as he considers that before casting a sideways glance at the weyrling. "Though, I guess, you don't always do things for thanks, right?" A pause, before he adds in offering, "You want something to eat? A cup of klah?" Edyis pads over fingers fishing out a pastry, "Thank you." She grins, "And the best of luck to you in your new endeavor as a minion of Quinlys." Dissapearing into the bowl with a friendly waggle of fingers. Cavernous, toothy yawns from both rider and dragon mark Yesia's arrival from the barracks. She's always behind in the morning, but that's okay, because Aeaeth requires less time, a thing the greenrider claims every time she's prodded by the weyrling staff to move move move. The redhead is twitching and stretching, arms overhead, and even Aeaeth is logy, plopping into a spot near the oiling tables. There is not even a warbled greeting (farewell?) to Edyis and Akluseth, but the mention of refreshments does seem to pull Yesia's attention. "Klah?" A look trails after Edyis, along with a half-crooked and warm smile that lingers so easily on C'ris' lips. But then the bluerider shoves the rest of his scone into his mouth, moving back to the abandoned jug of klah and mugs with every intention of pouring some even before Yesia's question draws his attention. With his cheeks full of baked goods, he just nods, gestures with a finger to a mug and then to Yesia in a silent question before he starts to pour another. "Please," Yesia says fervently, honing in on the bluerider. Her curiosity is clearly piqued, by the food or the company, because with Aeaeth content to doze in the corner for now, the girl settles near him, all the better to warm and wake up. "I hope this is your job," she says as she accepts the mug. "Klah first thing in the morning, yes." C'ris chews and swallows as soon as he can, likely before he should, so he can answer Yesia with a quick, "Yeah. Well, no. Not really my job. No one's paying me, and I thought I'd go get this stuff on my own, between drills and sweeps, but yeah." He stops on the flash of a smile to the young woman, before adding in offer, "I'm C'ris. And there's also some stuff from the kitchen." He gestures to the basket nearby. She's studying him so very closely, her lips curled into a small, somehow satisfied smile over her mug. There's a sip, a shiver as it warms her inside out, and a content sigh, though it's also clear she's listening. "They're not paying you? Really?" She cranes to look at the pastries. "That seems unfair. Why would you want to be here if you don't have to?" She plucks a pastry out, then supplies almost as afterthought. "I'm Yesia and that," a nod for her lifemate, "is Aeaeth." "I volunteered," explains C'ris lightly, his smile unwavering for Yesia as he moves about pouring another mug of klah too, only glancing away one to the Weyrlingmaster's Office before returning his attention to the greenrider. "Though I could help, maybe learn-- but I mean, you volunteered to be here in a way too, right? I guess we're both volunteers here." This is paired with the flash of a smile that is surely supposed to be charming, if not with the intent to charm the weyrling. "Nice to meet you, Yesia and Aeaeth. How are you young ladies doing this morning?" "Well, yes', but I volunteered for a dragon." Yesia's stressing it in a way that makes it sound very obvious. "I didn't volunteer to be an errand boy - rider - for a bunch of teenagers." Even if she's among that number, she sounds appalled by it. She picks at the flakes of her pastry, following his gaze to the weyrlingmaster's office with a notable grimace and a testing of waters, "She can be very difficult to get along with." "Aeaeth?" C'ris assumes with a measure of warm sympathy for Yesia's statement, that smile lingering gently for her as he continues with, "It'll get easier. The bond and all of that, it gets better once they're older." He grabs another scone for himself, waving it lightly towards the weyrling as he adds in an afterthought, "You teenagers aren't so bad, really. Even with everything going on, I mean, it's a hard time for anyone. Weyrlinghood." Yesia's eyes widen with surprise, and she laughs aloud at the suggestion, shaking her head. "Oh, no. Aeaeth is almost perfect. She's not like some of the others. I meant the Weyrlingmaster." Which is all she'll say, because in these few months she's apparently learned some level of propriety and tact. Rather, she wonders evenly, "How many of us have you met?" "Quinlys? She's-- I mean, I'm sure it's different for you, being a weyrling and having to listen to her. But, she is good people," offers C'ris as if in assurance to Yesia, paired with his usual flashed smile as he scrubs fingers briefly at his chin. But, he drops into a chair at that table with the weyrling, continuing, "Some. Not all of you, yet, but a couple. Edyis, of course. Farideh." Tact, and the results of her prodding, suggest it is safer to not pursue the topic of Quinlys, and so he gets a noncommittal shrug and a, "Maybe," for his defense of her. Too many disappointing answers in a row make Yesia roll her eyes, just to start, but she tamps it down quickly. "What did you think of them?" certainly sounds innocently curious. C'ris smiles even for that noncommittal answer, only nodding as he repeats as if to convince her, "She is." But he won't press that opinion on the weyrling further, not as she questions him for his opinions. That, apparently, takes some thought as he lifts fingers to scrub through fluffy, dark hair, considering it before he offers to her, "Poor Farideh has a lot on her plate but she seems like she's trying and she cares, which is good, right? It would suck if she didn't. And Edyis seems nice. Funny." Yesia took that time to take a bite out of her pastry, finally, and chews it with great care while she listens to him. Great, slow care, which means she doesn't immediately have an answer for him, except the narrowing of her eyes at his assessment. She swallows, her answer hesitant and somewhat critical, almost a drawl. "Riiiiight. You should probably be careful," is her genuinely concerned assessment. "You seem very nice, C'ris. I would hate to see you taken advantage of." C'ris nods simply, his smile softening though his only answer to the weyrling is a light, "You seem very nice too, Yesia. I'll, you know, try to be careful? I don't know why anyone'd want to take advantage of me, though, so." Other than having him work for free, that is, but that thought doesn't seem to cross his mind. "You'd be surprised," is Yesia's dry answer. "These girls, they're sometimes not very nice. That's the only reason they need. Take it from me." In the corner, Aeaeth is done being patient, it seems. The green stands and stretches her long wings, arches, and waddles closer. Yesia sighs. "Fine, we'll go." She gives him an apologetic smile, finishing off her mug. "Thank you for breakfast. She's been patient, I should take her to bathe, before she makes me itch too." A frown draws on C'ris' lips at Yesia's answer, that sympathy still so easily there for the young woman even before he offers, "I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do--." But then Aeaeth is stretching and moving, and the bluerider only nods in agreement as he stretches to his own feet. "Yeah, you should. Good luck! I'll be around." Yesia allows, "Of course," watching Aeaeth amble right on ahead and out the door. She leaves her mug, but takes what's left of her pastry as she goes. "Have a good day, C'ris. See you around." C'ris will clean that mug up for her without complaint rather than let it remain there, before delivering a mug of klah to the Weyrlingmaster. |
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