Logs:Travel
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| RL Date: 18 November, 2013 |
| Who: Edyis, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis and Leova meet again, and talk of travel and transitions. |
| Where: Nighthearth High Reaches |
| When: Day 17, Month 4, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Giorda/Mentions, Jeroman/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr(#1549RJ) It's the nighthearth, but that doesn't stop a certain Glacier greenrider from occupying it during the afternoon. There are a cluster of Nabolese refugees by the hearth, taking up much of the warmth and chatting loudly the way people do when they like to talk to each other, while a seemingly competing group of locals sits around the round table. Two of the chairs from the latter have been drawn off to the side, though, and Leova sits in one of them, hunched over a bowl of very exciting stew. The other's newly emptied, its seat still warm. If the weyr had more mirrors, it is entirely possible that the newly appointed assistant to the Records keeper might notice the ink smudges on her face from inky fingers. Then again it's entirely possible that the former Nabolese candidate is aware and is too absorbed in proofreading whatever is on her wax tablet to care. She does find her way into the night hearth expecting it to be - well more empty. Instead there's a forced smile and a wave to the refugees as she spots the vacated seat near the green rider, and dashes into it, as though it might suddenly disappear. "Fancy seeing you here, the living cavern was overflowing again, wasn't it?" she asks. A couple of them wave back, but even if Edyis is familiar, they go back to chatting amongst themselves. Perhaps the girl is, now, neither fish nor fowl. Perhaps they have other priorities. That greenrider glances up, amber eyes striking in a tanned face that's only slightly paler brown where goggles would go. "It was." She's got a one-cornered smile, all of a sudden. But given the Nabolese accent, what she says is, "Met after the hatching, didn't we? Don't reckon I remember your name. Leova." Hers. Edyis grins toothily back. "Really?" There is a laugh, "I remember you're the one who introduced R'hin as grandsire. I am Edyis, formerly of Esvay Hold." As the poor rider is trying to eat her stew, and her own hands are occupied, she offers a curtsey instead of a handshake. "I suppose the place is far more packed than usual since we picked up another forty refugees." Abruptly, the greenrider's solemn. Not that it was a stretch, but still. She inclines her head. "I'd heard about that," she says, her low, smoky voice's accent deepened. "'Formerly.' Are you with us long-term, then?" Her gaze lingers on Edyis. On her expression. Her smudged skin. Edyis is more thoughtful at formerly, perhaps it is still strange for her to hear others say it. She nods, "One of the riders managed to pin down the Headwoman for me, and after the meeting was over Giorda had me assigned under Master Jeroman in the records room." She glances over at the refugees, and there seems an unasked question on her mind. "It's been a strange transition, but a necessary one." the smile returns as easily as though it had never faded. "Glad you're making it." Leova rests her spoon in the bowl and this time lowers her voice a different way: to what would be a whisper, were its tone secretive and sibilant. It's not. Quiet, then, a touch rueful, "Don't know if you know. But. Smudges on your face. Might be dust." Edyis blushes, her face suddenly attacked with a sweater sleeve vigorously. "Oh dear, probably the ink, difficult to get the trick of keeping it off my fingers." The bashful admission. "How have you been?" She asks, realizing she knows very little about the woman. Whereupon Leova immediately reaches for the girl's wrist, balancing her bowl and what little remains of the stew with her free hand. "Careful." Whether she succeeds in saving the sweater or not, "It is that. Still. Easier to wash off fingers than clothing." She adds, "Tolerable." Though some of that may be circumspection, given the givens. Or just disinterest in complaining. It takes a touch of effort to add a more socially polite, "Could stand more sunshine. Not that we can't travel, but. Not the same." The sweater is rescued, Edy's dignity however, is not. "Oh, I wasn't thinking," eyeing the sleeve as the tablet is set into her lap. "Sun is good, hopefully spring will bring some much needed change." In temperature, in events and people, she leaves the words ambiguous enough not to offend. "I guess you do have that option, to be able to hop on dragon back and go anywhere you want, so long as duty allows." With that, and no further comment, the greenrider leaves the girl's wrist be. "Hope so." Then, with less emphasis, "Glad about that. Grateful, even. Spent enough months where we couldn't." She considers Edyis a moment. "Been anywhere other than the Weyr? And Nabol. Since you're here now, and all." And can. Edyis shakes her head, "Just Nabol, which isn't all that different from here, except for better runners," in her tone the sudden realization that she has that option seems to dawn on her. "I suppose I could travel now, see places like Southern and Ista." There's a one-cornered smile for them not being so different, more bemused than anything. Then, "Could do. Lot of riders will trade for a bit of mending or what have you. Just be sure to arrange to get back, hm?" Unless she doesn't want to. With that, though, and a glance to her now-empty bowl, Leova returns to her feet. "Afternoon, Edyis. Clear skies." "Clear skies Leova!" She calls, watching the rider depart, her attention returning to proofreading the letter in her lap. She makes a large strike, and then several additons. "Trade." She muses. |
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