Logs:Laundry Help
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| RL Date: 16 October, 2007 |
| Who: N'thei, Suvain, Sferrox |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 11, Month 11, Turn 13 (Interval 10) |
| Fort Weyr Living Cavern(#199RJa$) Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize. Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr. To the east, a short flight of stairs leads to the hallway to the inner caverns. A stout door to the north has a healer's emblem on it, marking the Infirmary. To the south is a wide tunnel, leading out of the Weyr, and a wide opening to the west leads to the Weyr bowl. "Then get outta line," says Sferrox, reaching over to try to give Suvain a light push sideways. "Thanks," he does tell her, though, as she hands him a plate, and he sets about piling it up at once. "Me? Oh, I hauled my butt out of there soon as you left. Chicken--figured something might some after me without you there to scare 'em off with that scream of yours," he drawls. To that, Suvain merely lifts a brow and thins her mouth, donning a haughty expression that has difficulty being maintained. Always her betrayer, a smile returns to curve her lips and though she's pushed, the lanky girl doesn't lose her balance and responds with laughter. "Thanks again for reaching up for that pitcher. You're every flower's lifesaver you know, chippy." It's later in the dinner hour, not many people loitering in the living caverns, but the food remains fresh and the line for it small. "The tomatoes are out of season by the way, you'll want to skip that dish," advises the blonde, moving on to the thick chunks of roasted beef in gravy. N'thei looks to be precisely what he is: in limbo. He bundles in from the bowl with a laundry back slung over his shoulder, a cold-lipped whistle meandering in ahead of him. The bronzerider manages not to attract much attention, for all his size and his lack of familiarity, just surveys the room from the entrance with a look that sweeps collectively over the after-dinner occupants. "Chippy?" says Sferrox, one hand rising automatically to his mouth, for all he's grinning. "Think I like Frex better. But you're welcome, anyway--least I didn't chip that, yeah?" He tilts his head slightly, glancing at the girl as he loads up on everything, including the very dish she warned him about. "I'm not picky," is his explanation. "And tomatoes are always good, doesn't matter the season. You got a table already, or...?" When his plate is finished, holding as much as it possibly can, he looks around to scan the room himself, eyes passing over N'thei in turn but not really lingering as he focuses instead on the empty chairs in the cavern. Wyaeth senses that Ciath's shimmering golden tones reach out in a wordless greeting, the contact warm and friendly. Suvain returns nonsensical phrases and nicknames with utmost seriousness, "Piggy for Chippy, Chippy for Piggy." Equally active as his in piling on the food, the teenager's plate might rival that of Sferrox's, the mountain of food topped with a little crescent roll. In spite of his size, or perhaps because of it somehow, the blonde completely misses N'thei in her visual sweep of the room, the shake of her head followed by a throaty mrrrr. "Don't have a table yet, but how's over there." Decision made, the lanky creature makes her way through the caverns towards the choicest seats near the hearth. "Saw some riders sitting here earlier. They all looked kinda grim." In that lucky way that things occasionally manage to line up, N'thei's decided that the nighthearth might be the best place to solve his little laundry problem. Really, he has reason; just as Suvain and Sferrox are headed that way, so is a woman with her hair tied up in a kerchief and a big basket of knitting, as apt to be a laundress as anyone else in the room. She bustles right on by though, and leaves the bronzerider with his laundry and a bemused expression; "Can anyone point a man in the right direction to offload some dirty socks? Please?" Wyaeth> Ciath senses that Wyaeth's here! But there's the briefest, wordless explanation that he's met up with a Fortian bronze, and there's some sort of comparing going on-- Wyaeth's wings to this other bronze's, the thickness of neck, the broadness of shoulders, stuff like that. « Howdy, though. » "So... you want to sit where people were unhappy?" Sferrox follows along in Suvain's wake, already picking at his food as pieces threaten to slide off the edges. "That's not girl logic, is it? Least it's warmer over this way. Did you get a drink? I didn't get a drink. What do you want, and I'll get it?" He sets his plate down on the table, though he doesn't seat himself just yet, instead glancing to Suvain expectly, and then, when N'thei speaks, up to the other rider. "Oh. You're that guy," he notes, blinking. "Er. Sorry. They're usually in the laundry rooms, but probably not this time of night." Not that that's likely to be very helpful to someone who doesn't know where the laundry rooms are to start with. Suvain glides right on by N'thei and the passing laundress to sink with a content sigh into a warmed seat. "Juice. Pineapple if they have it, but if they don't," Suvain considers with a head tilt that sweeps the long tangles of her hair over one shoulder, then amends, "Well, anything sweet they might have. And it's not cause they were unhappy that I want to sit here. It's cause it's warm." The grim part apparently is girl logic, having no real place in the conversation just yet. "Um, what he sa...," the seated girl looks way on up to find the lost man's face, eyes blinking wide. "Chippy, that's him. I'm Piggy. You wanna be Big? But that might get a little confusing I bet." Wyaeth senses that Ciath responds with a quick flick of thought that takes Wyaeth's image and improves on it slightly, broading the shoulders, lengthening the wingspan slightly. It's all done subtly, Wyaeth remaining recognizeable as himself, simply as though viewed through a filter that makes him just a little /more/. Beside him is another bronze, indistinct and clearly inferior. Beneath it all lies a thread of warm humor. N'thei contemplates Sferrox when the younger man deigns to answer, his laundry-free hand raising to drag his thumbnail across his lower lip in a gesture meant to smother the grin before it gets the better of his face. "Eye-to-eye with someone's a little rare for me, Chippy?" He cants his head, uncertain about the address, a flickering look of doubt cast upon Suvain. "Why don't I be N'thei and you two can just be your actual names. --Understanding that the lower caverns are that way, which way to the laundry?" Wyaeth> Ciath senses that Wyaeth approves. His approval is as gruff as everything else about him, but suffused with a harsh comfort, like the burn of whisky on a cold night. He returns no images, his own being dusty and unfocused, just the feeling that, yep, that's about right. Sferrox eyes Suvain a long moment as she immediately sets in on nicknaming. "Likewise," he tells N'thei, with a dry grin that shows off the plain reason for his Suvain-gifted name: that pair of chipping front teeth. "It's Sferrox, actually. And... You're probably better at explaining that at me--probably spent more time there than I have. I'll be back," he adds to Suvain, leaving her to answer questions while he goes to fetch drinks for them both. The juice selection earns a few strange looks and a sniff of at least one pitcher before he's satisfied enough with the contents to pour them both glasses and head back. Suvain lets the silly melt away, leaving in its place an easy smile. "N'thei. You're the one that won Ciath's flight. Well, your dragon did leastways, right?" Long fingers rake through to pull her hair out of her face and away from the danger of being dunked in gravy. "Suvain. He calls me piggy because he doesn't think a girl should eat as much as I do." She shrugs. "But I don't see what being a girl has to do much with how much a person wants to eat. If you don't mind sitting a bit, I'll be happy to show you were you can drop your dirty socks off? It'd be a pity to have my meal go cold for your dirty socks." Her tease impresses dimples into her broadened grin. "Are you saying your desire to eat is more important than my desire to have clean socks? That's a big assumption." N'thei sketches a dubious smile, lets that one show without his thumb's intervention, the hand now dropped onto the back of the empty chair near which he continues to stand. "Sferrox and Suvain. You're related?" The height, the blue eyes, the nicknames, it's a natural assumption? "Wyaeth did, yes. I had remarkably little to do with it." /Remarkably/. Sferrox arrives back just in time to hear N'thei's question, and he's quick to answer, "Oh, Faranth, no. Just friends, that's all. Even if she doesn't keep up with her family too well," says the man with a shake of his head as he drops into his seat and slides Suvain one of the glasses. It is indeed pineapple juice. "Never tried it before," he notes of his own glass. To N'thei, "You can sit if you want. Or not--somebody else might be able to explain it better than me, at least. I'm not usually the one that hauls all my family's stuff down there, you understand." At odds with her looks, Suvain guffaws, loosening hearty laughter to the high ceilings of the living caverns, but she's saved from correcting N'thei by Sferrox's return. "S'from Boll," is all she's able to say after the laughter quiets, taking a satisfying sip to soothe her throat before adding, "I'd kinda hoped it was tithed, but you never know, and you never know unless you ask. And I asked, and here it is." The glass is waved at the bronzerider, the gesture indicating he's more than welcome to sit. "Most days I might concede the state of your socks are far more important than food in my belly, but tonight, I'm afraid you'll have to lose to me. Just this one." Despite this being their first meeting. "Please?" She flashes another of her winsome smiles upward. "If only to save me from an eternity of neck strain from looking up at you?" once N'thei hefts the sack by the string over his shoulder, his smile nothing but charmed-looking in response to Suvain's innocent li'l smile; but words don't suit the expression. "Compelled as I am to stay, no. I don't think you'll get much eating done if the smell starts to escape anyway." He lowers his head in a sort-of-farewell to Sferrox. "Thanks for all your help." He says it like they've all but drawn him a map rather than provided him absolutely nothing to go on. Resolutely, he turns toward the lower caverns, likely to get lost but happily whistling about it as he goes. You walk down the stairs, into the Inner Caverns. |
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