Logs:Not Neighbors
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| RL Date: 6 December, 2015 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Lys, Aidavanth, Evyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Surprise, Lys! Jocelyn's moving out! |
| Where: Jocelyn's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 6, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions |
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>---< Jocelyn's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr >------------------------------------<
Separated from both the weyrleaders' complex and the dragon's ledge by
heavy tapestries, this weyr is easily spacious enough to fit at least
three, large dragons, an enormity that feels rather empty due to the
minimal furnishings. The outermost room of this weyr currently seems to be
designated as a front-facing, public space. Centered between the two
entrances, a large, stone table is surrounded by several sensible,
straight-backed chairs. Nearby, a trap door in the wall covers an old,
elevator-pulley system connected to the kitchens, its mechanism
occasionally finicky despite its polished state. A sizable, glassed-in
bookshelf is built into the wall near the opening that leads into the
inner weyr, containing a handful of books and situated next to a series of
small, empty ceiling hooks which look suitable for hanging plants. Two
cozy-looking armchairs are available for more informal seating, but the
present paucity of decor does little to render this outer room as anything
but severe.
Curtained off by thick, dark drapery, the entrance immediately beyond
opens to more private chambers, a section of two bubbles in the caldera
wall joined by a short tunnel. The smaller, blue-wash walled room closest
to the outer weyr also connects to a personal bath, largely enclosed off
by a carefully carved strip of rock wall. Heat and cool air mingle in the
space between it and the rider's bedchamber, which is mostly filled by a
large bed kept made up in plain linens and blankets. At the foot of the
bed is a large, ornately carved chest of sweet redwood; against the far
wall is a darkly-stained armoire.
Down the short passage, the larger of the two rooms serves as a private
study. An ornate desk takes up most of the available space with ample
shelves just above it; against the wall is an additional, open bookcase
housing scrolls and folders of varying sizes. There's little yet in the
way of other pieces besides a plainly carved, if sleek chair nudged
against the desk, but the amount of glowbaskets tucked around the room
suggests that this area currently sees more use than perhaps any of the
others.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Jocelyn F 25 5'5" lean, red hair, blue-gray eyes 4s
Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s After the weyrling wing runs drills in the afternoon, it's not uncommon for Jocelyn to make herself scarce. Usually, she returns some hours later looking thunderous, frustrated or just plain resigned depending on how her political lessons progress that particular day. With the pairs from Niahvth's clutch moving out of the barracks and into weyrs of their own, it might be easy enough to miss the redhead's longer absences of the past couple of days among the in-and-out traffic of riders and dragons cleaning their areas for the last time. Now, a half-hour after they've been dismissed to use their time as they will before dinner, Jocelyn exits the barracks, arms piled with folders and papers that, up until this morning, lived in the press at the foot of her cot. It's not so odd, perhaps, to see her heading across the bowl with her documents and a small bag in tow; it's also not so odd that her stride carries her up to the weyrleader complex. But Aidavanth, settled comfortably on the ledge that was Niahvth's prior to the confirmation of her seniorship - well. That is new. Particularly since she appears to be napping, quite at home. Some might call it being a good friend. Lys' casual tail of the goldrider keeps a safe distance, until the destination becomes obvious. Some might not call it anything at all if Lys just turned and went on her way, since none might know at that point, but the fact that after Jocelyn vanishes inside, Lys skirts the snoozing queen and appears at the mouth of the too-familiar cavern that was her daily workplace before Niahvth claimed the seniorship, "So," is loud enough to draw attention, but carefully not so loud as to likely disturb the dragon without. "This is Joce the great communicator in action, huh?" There's an edge to the words, but the single arched brow is more challenging than angry. "'By the way, Lys, I get to move out early after all, and please come by when you can't handle the barracks in weeks you have to put up with it all while I don't,'?" That brow goes higher. To say that Lys startled Jocelyn would be an understatement; the older weyrling swears loudly, papers scattering over the otherwise empty table in the entryway as she rounds to stare at Evyth's. There hasn't been time to make a great many changes over the past few days, but the air in the weyr at least smells fresh, even if there's a severe lack of furniture. No personal touches are evident anywhere just yet, but those wicker chairs previously surrounding the table have been piled in a corner, having been replaced with just the sort of seats one might expect the goldrider to keep: straight-backed, hard, upright. Much like the redhead's posture, even if her expression relaxes slightly after Lys finishes her diatribe. "I was going to tell you before dinner, " she says at last, stiffly, turning to begin putting her files back together. "I've only just - " A breath. "This will be the first night I'm spending here." There's an apology in there, somewhere. Maybe. "And you've known about it how long?" Lys makes the inquiry sound both curious and accusatory as she invites herself deeper into the weyr. "Weird seeing it like this," she observes, so she mustn't be too displeased with her soon to be former barracks neighbor. The greenrider moves to Jocelyn, stopping at polite conversational distance and glancing to the papers that went everywhere, "Guess you'll have plenty of room for those now." The words hold some humor but the look she gives Jocelyn says she's not off the hook yet. "Not very, " answers Jocelyn wearily, leaning down to pick up a few pieces of paper that made it to the floor. "A couple of days. They cleaned it yesterday, " admitted with some distaste. And her nose wrinkles as she pushes herself back to her feet. "I wanted to work on it myself, but Faranth only knows where I'd find the time to do so right now." Still, the spacious cavern feels terribly empty, even with the inherited table, an empty bookcase, some chairs. The beaded curtain that used to separate out the rider's private quarters from the outer chamber is in the process of being removed, halfway unmounted and thus, hanging open enough to allow someone approaching the opening to peer back toward the equally spartan bedchamber. The bed is still quite unmade, even if a stack of plain linens and generally nondescript blankets rests atop with two decidedly fluffy, not lumpy pillows. "I'm still not quite sure where to put what little I have, " she admits after some minutes. "You and Evyth could easily move in here with us, for crying out loud. It seems ridiculous to allot this much room to me. I don't need all of this, " and a hand waves toward the set of rooms. On another woman, this could come across as protesting too much for the sake of putting on an affect. Jocelyn, however, seems genuinely put out. It seems to be that genuineness that breaks Lys' determination to keep Jocelyn on the hook, and with a little amused smile she offers gingerly, "I could help, if you like. I used to work here. For Irianke. I became very familiar with how she liked her things. You might not like the same way, or the same things, but it might be some place to start. "I don't think I'm allowed to move in, at least not until Quinlys lets us out of the barracks, but if you wanted to keep a thin mattress for me under your bed, I won't object," there's a cheeky sort of smile for that idea. "And if you don't want that-" she points to the beaded curtain, "I'll take it off your hands." She's just that nice. Jocelyn closes the last folder, one hand lingering on that stack of paperwork as she listens silently to Lys with eyebrows that lift a fraction by the time the greenrider finishes speaking. "I'm well aware that you did." It's matter-of-fact, even as gray eyes slide a brief look to the blonde's shoulderknot. "I'm not Irianke, but your - input might help me decide what I'd like to do differently." For the other's cheeky smile, the redhead permits herself a wry curve of one of her own, followed by an amused snort. "A thin mattress, indeed. I'm almost positive there'd be enough room to stick another bed in this place." A considering glance sweeps over the bookcase before there's a slight shake of her head in the negative; she disappears briefly behind that half-hanging curtain with her stacks of notes, emerging a minute later sans bundle. Of the curtain, one shoulder rolls in a shrug. "Be my guest. I've no use for something like that. I'm going to get something a little heavier, better suited to keep these areas separated." "I'm sure there would," Lys tells Jocelyn almost breezily, her mood seeming oddly light, and perhaps that much could be attributed directly to Evyth who's not bothering Aidavanth while she's asleep, but who has come to the spot in the bowl where she can be near the weyrleaders' complex. "Sometimes an example is good for that. Forcing you to react and all that." Lys hasn't moved in Jocelyn's going and coming, but once she's invited to the beaded curtain, she latches onto one of those chairs with one hand to maneuver it so she can lift it with both and take it to where she can use it for height to start removing the rest of the curtain. "You know, you might find uses for all this space in time. You have a whole lifetime ahead of you. Turns before there'll be a chance for seniorship," of this Lys seems sure, despite High Reaches' curse. « Come up. » It's a simple invitation from a just-resting Aidavanth, who has probably been awake since Evyth's rider startled hers into their present conversation. There's no need to shuffle over to make room for her smaller sister; there's enough room here for both of them to sprawl. "Sometimes, " Jocelyn allows, toting her bag over to the bookcase with an appraising sort of expression. It takes her some moments to carefully open that glass door and place two, small books onto one of the shelves. It's a pitiful excuse for any sort of collection, but she nods nonetheless when they're settled - it's a start, of sorts. "It's still challenging, on some days, to think of having a lifetime to get used to all of this. Seniorship, " and the word is uttered uncomfortably, "isn't something I can even begin to fathom right now." And thankfully, she doesn't have to, says the look on her face. More wryly, "I'd like to keep what life expectancy I have left." "Keep it," Lys grants her magnanimously, grinning over her shoulder as one fastening for the beaded curtain is dealt with and then the next. "How are you getting on with your goldrider training?" They might share a lot of other aspects of training, but not that one. Evyth, contrary to her lifemate, is an excellent weyr-visitor. She doesn't surprise Aidavanth or anything. When she does come up at the gold's invitation (she waits for one, see?), it's with a perky, « You have a lovely ledge, Aidavanth. Great view, nice big weyr, easy to get from here to where we'll be drilling, and you can launch anytime you like without having to go all the way out of the barracks and through the training cavern and into the bowl and-- » Evyth's downfall as a visitor, as ever, is that she continues to be a chatterbox, if a cheerful one. "Just that easy?" Jocelyn's terribly dry, but the corners of her mouth lift into something quite at odds with her tone, expression shading amused for a reversal of words exchanged at an earlier time in their previous lives. She settles, finally, at the edge of one of the armchairs, one foot wiggling incessantly where it hooks behind the other. "It's challenging." That's a blunt admission, given on the tail end of a low exhale. "Half of the time, I'm afraid I'll wake up to a test that has nothing to do with what I've learned on paper and everything to do with how well I can get through a formal set or make polite conversation while someone is attempting to bait me into giving 'an unbecoming reply.'" Her quotes are rather audible, a brief glance spared toward the ledge before it lifts again to observe the other's progress. Aidavanth, meanwhile, has never seemed to mind Evyth's chatter. She's certainly all warmth for the green at present, even if there's a sliver of quiet discomfort lingering in the back of her presence. Jocelyn's, more than likely. « It is nice, » she agrees, « but it will take some getting used to. For both of us. » She pauses, then: « We will miss being next to you and your Lys. » It's well-known by now that the fledgling queen enjoys talking quietly while falling asleep, long after her partner has drifted off. « But, » more brightly, « none of us are going far. And you are always welcome here. » Lys's close-lipped smile is flashed, amused, in answer to Jocelyn's first, the look in her eyes one of reminiscence, so she must've caught the quote. She listens on as she finishes up with the curtain, careful in her movements to bind it up so it has less a chance of tangling. "That's reasonable," she tells Jocelyn honestly, if not probably helpfully, to her fear. The beaded curtain is placed on the table 'just so', and then Lys moves to inspect the bookcase. "Will this hold only things for work or for pleasure too?" She asks, as if her thinking such a test is just waiting to pop up and chew Jocelyn to bits doesn't need any more thinking on. (Ha.) « Everything takes getting used to. Lys says it took me time to get used to not being in an egg anymore, » whether or not that's true... well, if it's a lie, it's a comforting one. « But you will. You both will. We all will. And we'll visit. » Of course. « We're friends, after all. » All of them. It's a grand thing to Evyth's mind. « Lys says we'll be here extra if we get a weyr without a hearth. » That could be a joke (only it's really not). "Perhaps not work, " Jocelyn muses, tilting a look back toward the now curtainless opening into the darker quarters beyond. "There's yet another room back there that I think I'll use solely for that. I'll have to get in another bookshelf, I think, but if I can keep my work and my home as separated as I can, given the circumstances ... " Leaving that train of thought unfinished, she reluctantly adds: "Besides, if I have to play hostess, the last thing I'd want people to be able to see is what I'm working on." That's given with a decisive purse of her lips, arms folding across her chest. Perhaps Aidavanth shares some of her conversation with Evyth, for the redhead's features soften into an uncharacteristic uncertainty following the green's cheerful declaration. "I don't know that I know how to be a very good friend." It's a neutral-sounding confession, but Jocelyn gives a self-deprecating, ginger little smile in its wake. "I'm glad that we knew each other before my knot gains any extra loops." That's given equally evenly, if with meaningfully raised eyebrows. « Didn't we all have to get used to that? » Aidavanth is terribly amused at the concept, but pleased for what follows. « Yes, we are. » And that makes her happy, too. Of staying warm, « Of course! Jocelyn says tea brought here from the kitchens will stay far warmer. » Than, you know, to one of those weyrs without a hearth. It might seem like Lys hasn't heard Jocelyn's words about friendship. Her candid observation of, "That sounds like a monumental effort, Joce," are nevertheless the sort of thing a friend would say, not unkindly. "If you expect to have a personal life of any kind, it's really bound to get muddled up with who you are and what you do for a living. It sort of goes for other people, but without question for you." She carefully opens the glass doors and helps herself to a look over of the books Jocelyn just gave homes there. "It might be smart to keep non-sensitive work things out here, and sensitive ones back there where a person would have to work to get at them if you or your assistant were around." There's no question in Lys' mind that Jocelyn will eventually have one. "Sort of like leaving crumbs for the hungry so they don't starve and get driven to something crazy." Like trespassing into the weyrwoman's weyr further. Replacing the books carefully, however, Lys turns toward the redhead. "I'm pretty low maintenance," is dry, and the smile doesn't quite cover all the nerves underneath. It heralds the return admission, "I don't have a lot of experience. The last time I had friends, I left the Weyr and my friendships haven't really recovered, it seems like. I didn't have many to begin with." Of the matter of Jocelyn's knot, she says nothing yet. « Yes! And Lys said that there's a lot more crying for humans, getting used to that kind of thing. I think it's because our hide is so much thicker than skin. We don't get cold as easily so the transition is probably gentler, » she's put some thought into this obviously. « Lys says Jocelyn even has a direct line to the kitchen! The tea will be hot forever. » She concludes. « And she can have snacks whenever she wants! » Obviously, this is a plus in Evyth's book. "It does, doesn't it?" Jocelyn's rhetorical reply is nevertheless a considering one, pale eyes settling thoughtfully on her fellow weyrling. Her friend - whom she permits to go through her bookcase without the air of watching her movements like an avian-of-prey. "Those are good suggestions, " she says approvingly at some length, shoulders lifting briefly for Lys's talk of her own friendships. "I have very few. I suspect that won't change, even with time." If the concept is upsetting to her, there's certainly no sign of it here; it's a factual statement, if somewhat colored by the resignation that so often emerges these days when the topic turns to her training, her future. « There will, » Aidavanth confirms laughingly, « always be hot tea and snacks. » In the meantime, her rider straightens to her feet as the low sound of a cart on wheels comes to a stop outside, followed by a forced, cheery: "Facilities here to pick up your chairs and some of that other stuff, uh. Ma'am." By the time the workers make it into the weyr to take away the wicker chairs, with two more heading back into the bedchamber to discuss swapping the wardrobe for the dark armoire they've brought up, the weyrling has muttered something along the lines of, "I should take care of this - see you at dinner?" in Lys's direction, hands linked neatly before her as she observes the furniture swap with a keen, if polite enough demeanor. "I was good at my job. Picked up a thing or two," Lys has as answer for Jocelyn's approval, her own look briefly smug. She has no encouragement for more friends or judgment for so few. In fact, the interruption happens before she's elected to speak again, so when she does, it's with a nod and a simple, "I'll be there," before she turns to make herself scarce, taking her dragon with her (for all that Evyth assures she'll visit again soon!). |
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