Logs:Weyrwoman Meets Wherewoman
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| RL Date: 18 September, 2011 |
| Who: Tiriana, Azaylia, Tantaran |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia gets a little lost. Found by Tantaran and Tiriana, who do their best to help her grasp where things are in the Weyr. Actually, Tiriana was probably just bored enough to humor the clutzy Apprentices. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, then Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 7, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
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| Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr Within the labyrinth of interconnected chambers that make up the inner caverns, this large, long cavern serves both as a crossroads and a comfortable place for weyrfolk to sit, talk, and keep a nosy eye out for who's going where. Colorful, seasonal tapestries add warmth to the smooth walls and reduce echoes, while large niches house clusters of chairs, and a waist-high stone shelf along one wall provides a perch for drinks or work for residents on the go. Worn brass hooks often hold jackets or other outerwear with workboots stationed beneath, the transitory nature of the cavern lending itself to being treated as a sort of communal foyer where snowy or muddy gear can be kept outside of living quarters. Smaller, higher niches at regular intervals hold glowbaskets kept fresh during the daytime and allowed to dim somewhat at night. The largest tunnels lead to the main living cavern, to the bowl and to the Weyr entrance, but it's still easy for the uninitiated to get lost within this maze. Tucked away in the belly of the Weyr are dark caverns, stealing those who'd much rather enjoy Rukbat's rays. Unfortunately, the pleasant weather will have to wait as Azaylia slowly turns in place. An uncertain step forward is second guessed, and she hops back to where she was. Fabric is clutched tightly against her chest, fingers creasing the folded material as she staves off mild panic. This time she's bold enough to take two steps in the opposite direction, third faltering as her confidence visibly withers away. She continues the odd waltz; step step, turn, step whimper turn step. Tiriana always has that vaguely purposeful air to her steps: not hurrying but walking quickly, purposefully. That is, at least until Azaylia's waffling places the younger girl in her path--and then she steps to the side the same way Azaylia does, which does nothing for getting around her and only makes Tiriana stare at her harder. "What /are/ you doing?" she wants to know. Tantaran wanders in, a stack of mixed hides held against his body with one arm, the odd combination of stylus and klah mug in the other hand. He sweeps a glance across the room, looking for a less-noisy spot to settle in until he spies the Weyrwoman and another young woman apparently engaged in some sort of strange dance. He approaches them and sketches a salute to the Weyrwoman and a nod the other. "Would you like a little music with your dance?" he asks playfully. Azaylia feels the stare at first, nearly trembling as she turns her head to look the woman in the eyes. "I..." It's not really a word, more of a pitiful escape of high-pitched air from her throat. Tantaran's arrival doesn't help matters, and the apprentice finds her legs unresponsive- which is likely to make things worse given her bulk blocking someone's progress. The unfamiliar, scary woman's path to be exact. Finally her knees buckle, catching herself in a bobbing bow of apology. "Sorry ma'am. Lost." Tiriana's progress stays halted at the intersection there, as she eyes Azaylia, brows arching at the girl's odd behavior. "Are you going to faint now or something?" she wonders, not that she sounds particularly concerned about this--more curious, if anything. Tantaran, for his suggestion, earns a Look and a crisp, "No, thank you, apprentice." Tantaran shuffles hides and mug in a vain attempt to try to support the much taller, sturidly built woman and winds up scattering them all across the floor while still hanging on to the mug -- klah and hides don't mix too well. "Shards" he mutters as he sets the mug well out of the way and scrambles about collecting hides and papers willy-nilly. "Sorry 'bout that, ladies," he half-gasps as he collects the last of the hides. While she doesn't speak, that quivering lip answers Tiriana's question with a silent 'maybe'. Just like a hot bath, the longer she's submerged in the company of others, the easier it gets. With a swallow, she's even able to form words! "Do you know where the... extra fabric might be kept?" Guilt weighs heavily on her shoulders as the hides are scattered, one arm keeping the blue fabric against her chest as she crouches down and helps to pick up what she can one-handed, a mumble of 'sorry' escaping every other second. "... Stores?" volunteers Tiriana, with a searching look at Azaylia and then Tantaran, as though he'll help her out on this one. It /is/ a trick question, right? "Or the weavers, I guess, might have something," she tacks on with a shrug, and a step backward as everything goes spilling. "Apprentices--are you /all/ so klutzy? Makes me glad all over again I never did that." Tantaran smiles graciously as Azaylia helps him gather the remaining loose hides. "Thanks," he murmurs before collecting his mug and dignity. "No ma'am -- it's not so much a matter of beind clumsy as it is of trying to do too many things at one time for too many people." Apparently one of the skills learned during apprenticeship is multitasking, and Tan hasn't gotten it down quite completely yet. Azaylia ducks her head at Tantaran's gratitude, arm thrust out with the few scraps she's managed to collect for him. There's still the core issue of her being in the older woman's way, something she tries to remedy by standing too quickly. Stumbling backwards, she regains her balance and peeks up at Tiriana apologetically. Up, because she's done her best to hunch her shoulders and shrink under the woman's gaze. "I... don't know where those are." The full truth of it is, she doesn't know where anything is located within the weyr. If Tiriana has ever counted in her head to avoid punching something, it's today. You can practically see her forming the word onetwothreefour in her head before she says, "How do you survive in a Weyr without even knowing /that/. Don't answer that. It's this way," and she turns to lead the way for the little ducklings. "New arrival?" Tantaran pipes up as the once-scattered hides are secured beneath his left arm. He was about to offer to take Azaylia to the store rooms before Tiriana cut in, so he takes on the role of Azaylia's apologist. "When I came here for the Turnover celebrations, it was all I could do to find my sleeping quarters. But," he shrugs, "that was a while ago. I know where things are now." Azaylia opens her mouth to answer, until Tiriana quickly orders otherwise. Lips shut tight, the blood retreats from her pale, pursed flesh. At least she's capable of following orders, frozen legs thawing enough so that she can stiffly follow after Tiriana. Her explanation is saved for Tantaran then, quiet voice still easily heard by those nearby. "...I usually stay in the Complex." When she's not in the stables, that is. Manners pressure her to speak, and she straightens up to address the woman in front of her. "Thank you, ma'am." Tiriana sniffs. "The complex, sure. Except how do you expect to bathe yourself or dress yourself or feed yourself or, y'know, any of those other necessary-for-life functions," she points out with a shake of her head. "Faranth. This is what the crafts are sending us now? What's your name, girl? And you." She throws Tantaran in there, too, with a look over her shoulder as she sweeps on to the storerooms. Tantaran pulls up all five-foot two-inches of himself straight up. "Tantaran, Harper apprentice, ma'am," he announces. "This is a big place and it was all I could do to remember where to eat, sleep and bathe during my first few days here. Apparently he now has all that down pat as he follows the Weyrwoman to the storage caverns. Azaylia hangs her head, watching her feet as they propel her forward. Daily life has helped her in learning the necessary areas of the Weyr. As for other, highly populated caverns? Not so much. "Yes'm." She fumbles for her name after that subservient murmur, "Azaylia, ma'am. Apprentice Herder." Tantaran obviously means well, which is why a weak curl of her lips is offered to the other crafter. "I've been here for... several months." The last few words are purposefully quiet, this time not readily offering Tiriana another good reason to scold her. At the entrance to the stores, Tiriana stops entirely, turning back to face the two youngsters. With a sigh for Azaylia's soft answer, she notes, "These are stores. If you need crap, you get crap from here. --She's all yours, now." The latter, to Tantaran, as she starts to move past, on to whatever errand she was originally on. Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms. Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them. Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outsde each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves. Tantaran grabs a glowbasket and enters the perpetual shadows of the storage caverns. "Spare cloth should be somewhere around here," he muses as he runs his eyes over the array of neatly labled storage bins. "Ah, here's something," and he points to a chest full of various kinds of unused fabrics. "That should fit right in with the rest." Azaylia keeps her head bowed as Tiriana points into the storage room, once again uttering her apologetic and genuinely grateful thanks." She's certainly Tantaran's problem now, waiting for him to take the lead, and when he does she'll follow. A gasp of surprise leaves the apprentice, the massive caverns intimidating to say the least. The sharp inhale turns into one of delight at the fabrics, free for the taking. "Oh, they're perfect." She finally steps forward, freeing a hand to fish around for the right color. Tantaran is offered a bright smile, tentative as it is. "Thank you." Luckily enough, she doesn't need too much help navigating out of the weyr once she's done in the stores. |
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