Logs:Of Suitability
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| RL Date: 24 October, 2006 |
| Who: Dassah, R'hin, Steorra |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 6, Month 8, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 2:55 on day 6, month 8, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer night. You meander through the tunnel, emerging in an enormous cavern. You walk up a short flight of steps into the galleries. In the Galleries of the High Reaches Weyr Hatching Grounds(#510RJQas$) Tiers of stone carved benches rise uniformly above the hatching sands, set against both the southern and western walls of the enormous hatching grounds. The warmth radiating from the sands make the cool stone benches a welcome change, especially for sand baked feet. One section of the galleries has been roped off for special spectators, and the seats within have cushions done in the dark blue and black of the Weyr. To the east, the cavern narrows and short flights of steps lead down to the cavern entrance or to the sands themselves. From the galleries, the many dragon ledges are visible, scattered all along the hatching cavern walls. Down on the sands, a generous clutch of eggs is guarded by the broody queen, lovingly turning them as they harden. Curious visitors and weyrfolk finished with the day's tasks come here to view the eggs, and make their own guesses to what lies within them. Firelizards perch on the benches, watching for any excitement on the sands. Contents: Dassah Steorra VIP Hospitality Table Obvious exits: SAnds Bowl As she picks up a shirt with a ragged tear in it, and a small bundle that has her needle and thread, Dassah once more takes in the people around her. Missed on first inspection, Steorra is now noticed and a smile crosses the woman's face. "Steorra, hello! How're you? Here for a bit of gazing?" She looks out at the sands. "It's definately an interesting clutch." Another figure appears, casually walking negotiating the steps of the galleries. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, R'hin's eyes are - like most here - fixed on the sands. After a beat, his attention drifts towards the watchers, though for now he stands silent, speculative, distant. Turning round, almost shaking herself out of a daydream, Steorra smiles to Dassah and moves over so she is closer to where she is sat "Oh yes couldn't resist it for long" she grins and moves her hidework out of the way "I'm doing well Dassah, how are you? settling in to the weyr?" and she takes another bite of her redfruit. On the sands, Leiventh's still enough that he might easily appear asleep, so the faint, low rumbling that emanates from the bronze may come as somewhat of a surprise. It doesn't appear to be warning - more like greeting, subsiding into silence a moment later. He's up and moving, liquid grace as he glides across the sands, circling the clutch, inspecting as he goes. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh projects, « You're up late, » he observes, and to forestall your inevitable comment, adds, « I have a clutch to guard. » Dassah smiles to Steorra and nods. "Yes, I am. Still not had any luck pinning down Sirana, the headwoman, but I did get some good information on my uncle. Now I just have to work up the nerve to actually talk to him, if he is weyr Satiet says he could be." Deft figners thread a needle with thread a similar color to the shirt, and begin to heal the wounded shirt. "Still trying to stay useful in the meantime, though I admit it's nice to have something I can do /here/." She looks out at the sands and the rumbling dragon. "Ohh, and a show, too." A low-voiced chuckle, eerily similar to the dragon's, and R'hin's moving down the stairs again, drawn by the conversation of the pair. "He's guarding, he says," the bronzerider says with a tip of head to indicate the bronze, settling onto the bench in the row behind Dassah and Steorra. He's casual of appearance, sleeves pushed back, no knot to be seen. Steorra shifts slightly in her seat, by the looks of things she has been there quite a while. The movement and noise from Leiventh does bring her attention back to the sands again and she smiles "Well atleast you know something now, about you're uncle I mean and yes by the looks of things a lot of people have found jobs that they can easily do while egg watching" and she looks sheepishly at her own pile of hidework. R'hin's voice startles her a little and she turns to smile "Good evening weyrleader, he's a protective father then?" On the sands, Leiventh lowers his muzzle, expertly packing sand around the pinkish egg with all the expertise of solid intuition. That done, another circle takes him back to Lhiannonth's side, settling back down next to his mate with a low croon. He pays those in the galleries no mind, dismissive of their presence, merely watchful and still once more. A soft laugh from Dassah, and a faint blush. "I admit that looking at the eggs is a bit of frivolity even I can't deny myself, but I can be useful while doing so at least." At R'hin's approach, she hastily stands and offers a polite smile. "Weyrleader." The title is intoned with respect, and after he seats himself so does she, though she looks back at him instead of the sands. "Thank you for your advice. Weyrwoman Satiet proved to be very helpful." "No more protective than any other father, I'd imagine. Not that I have point of reference to know." R'hin's hands spread, faint little smile curling his lips. "People don't seem to bother him, but then they never have, really." Dassah's comment earns a shifting of attention and a quirk of brow, bemused. "Did she, indeed? Helpful?" the lilt at the end is patently questioning. Steorra returns her attention to the sands and smiles "I suppose not" she chuckles at R'hin's answer before turning back to Dassah "I don't think anyone can deny themselves that, but yes I do feel better knowing that i'm being useful at the same time" she smiles. Dassah nods at R'hin with a warm smile. "She thinks she remembers him, and gave me some pointers on where best to find him. I'm... Waiting for the right time to approach him." She looks over towards the sands, "Sometimes it seems the sires are more protective than the dams, especially when it's their first one. Is it his first? And Steorra, what is it you are doing? Organisation or inventory of some kind?" She guesses, glancing at the woman. R'hin's gaze settles on Steorra, thoughtfully, trying to place her. A name apparently eludes him, his expression merely musing. Dassah's comment earns the slightest of nods. "Ah, so he is at the 'Reaches?" A low chuckle, and he adds, "I figured if anyone would know, it would be the lady of the spires. She's a knack... if you will, for knowing who is whom. And it's his first," the bronzerider confirms. With a nod to Dassah Steorra picks up her hidework again, blushing as if she'd forgotton it was there. "Yes inventory for the kitchen stores, making sure we're not low on anything" she says a little hushed as she checks through her lists, R'hin's look doesn't go unnoticed and she smiles "The name is Steorra sir" A small smile and a nod. "So it would seem." She agrees, glancing away from him. "Seems to be either a stableworker, or a handyman, and she said that since there's some refit going on down at the stables, it's a good time to catch both there. And for a frist clutch, it's certainly... Spectacular." The last word seems an almost hasty correction of another. She turns her focus back to Steorrawith a smile. "A good thing to do. I imagine, with a hatching coming up, there will be a feast and the kitchens will want to make sure they have enough of everything to conduct it?" "Of course, Steorra," R'hin murmurs, as if he'd known her name all along. "How are your parents?" The even, long look he bestows on Dassah suggests he's not unaware of the last minute correction. "Don't think I haven't heard the talk. That the eggs are unusually dark. That one of them won't hatch. Isn't that what's being said?" There's not a trace of bitterness, however; he seems unconcerned. Steorra smiles "Oh they're both doing well, though I haven't had chance to visit them this last sevenday or so" her shoulders roll in a shrug though that last fact does make her look away from the weyrleader and back to Dassah "Oh yes there is always lots to do before a hatching, feasts and what with candidates on there way...." the way she speaks you'd think the whole thing was resting on her shoulders and hearing R'hin's comment abou the clutch she does become very busy with her hidework. The bright blush of one who's said those very things. "I may have heard something to that effect, sir. But I am sure they will be fine, really, it's just... Unique. A signature, perhaps, that will follow through to his future descendants?" Dassah attempts vainly to backpedal from the rumors of the eggs. Steorra's a distraction, and she focuses on her once more. "I heard at least one was already claimed. Charis, I think her name was. I met her once, she seemed nice enough." The shirt, now mended, is folded and set to the side as another item, a holey sock this time, is claimed. "But they'll be inflicted on the kitchens, too, which always makes things interesting. Does High Reaches assign chores based on skills, or do they do what some places do and make them all do a bit of everything?" Only the faint glint of pale eyes suggests R'hin's enjoying the pair's discomfort, though they probably don't know him well enough to read it. "Mm. We'll see," is all he says, tone deliberately bland. "Tavrie, too," he adds to Dassah's list. "M'wen's brown seems to have a nose for candidates, as well." A tip of head, as he answers, "When I was a candidate, we spent half the day at chores that encompassed our previous duties, and half at other things. Given Satiet is once more candidate coordinator, I don't imagine that would change greatly. A waste, I think, to have a healer scrubbing pots, rather than tending the infirmary." Steorra is glad that the conversation was distracted from the clutch and she looks up to R'hin "Oh Tavrie aswell? yes I met her in the living caverns" she smiles happily "Good for her, I'm sure we could do with a couple of them in the kitchens to help but you're right it does seem to be a shame to waste talents that could be used elsewhere" and her work is placed back down on the benches again "I wonder how many candidates will be searched for this clutch, i'm never any good at numbers but let's hope it's not too many" she nods. Dassah squints her eyes a bit, thinking. "I think I met her, briefly, the other day. Seemed nice for the few minutes I saw her." A shrug, and an agreeable nod. "And that's what I think. And likewise, those with no aptitude for the kitchens should be kept well away." A slight flush at that, though it could just be the heat from the sands. "Well, with the size of the clutch, I would expect... Twenty five or so?" She glances towards R'hin for confirmation "Not many, I don't think - not a need," R'hin nods towards the clutch on the sands. "Twenty, perhaps, twenty-five at most, yes." A twitch of brows at Dassah's comment, the Weyrleader's words bland, "And those that have difficulty with a sharp knife should stay well away." It's a statement, but the faint lilt at the end turns it almost into a question, amusement in his tone. With a look from Dassah to R'hin, Steorra smiles "I think I must have missed something" and with a chuckle she looks back to the sands "hmm twenty to twenty five won't be that bad I suppose" she shrugs almost returning to her earlier daydream. And there's that flush again, brighter now across Dassah's face. "Not everyone is suited to such things, no matter what some people seem to think. I've learned my lesson and don't plan to pester the cooks anymore for help that isn't going to do any good." Her tone is clearly defensive, a bit of snippiness creeping into them. Unlike her knife skills, her needle skills are deft and the sock is soon whole again. "Does it take longer here, with the colder ambient weather, for the eggs to harden? Or do the stands still stay as warm as they are down south?" "Kitchen mishap," is all R'hin says by way of explanation to Dassah, lips curving upwards. "If you'd ever stepped foot on the sands, you wouldn't ask that question. If anything, it's hotter than those down south. After the clutch has hatched, you should go out onto the grounds." His head bobs towards the sands. "I'm going to have to see about finding lighter clothing, come the hatching. In any case," he rises, smoothly, eyes on the sands once more. "I've a meeting." An odd, late time for a meeting, but the Weyrleader doesn't seem inclined to explanations, nor goodbyes; he's already heading for the stairs with long strides. You walk down a short flight of steps and head out through the entrance to the bowl. |
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