More beginnings! Some went better than others...
Who: Kierom, Aspen, Aida
Where: Lower Caverns
When: Day 4, Month 13, Turn 1
What: Aida meets Kierom and Aspen...and it doesn't go quite so well.
It's another bustling day in the Lower Caverns, and the primary impediment to traffic flow is one storkish, pale man, whose actual age is very hard to gauge due to his long white hair. Aspen appears to have seated himself, cross-legged, in the center of the caverns with a hide and a stylus, and is ticking off marks on the sheets as he watches people walk by, going in and out of rooms.
Kierom walks in, looking tired, almost running into the man with the hide before even noticing him. "Oh, excuse me, Sir."
Singing about half a note off-key (and all the more grating for it) as she wanders down the tunnels from the direction of the laundry, Aida seems half-lost in her own little world, a pile of blankets folded together and stuck under one arm. Once she's made it into the more bustling areas of the caverns she does at least lower her voice some. How kind of her.
Aspen peers backwards, looking at Kierom from upside down. "You're excused." he says magnanimously, making a mark on his sheet. Aida, however, gets several marks, and a sudden hesitation in Aspen's stylus. "What are the blankets for? Yours, or would you qualify it more as fetching? Or perhaps crafting." A thoughtful look down at the sheet before he looks back up.
When she's spoken to, Aida slides to a halt and trails the little song off (thank goodness), blinking over at Aspen for a moment. He is regarded in silence, then his sheet of parchment, and then him again. There's a fear heartbeats of silence before inexplicably, she starts to laugh. "Fetching," she manages to gasp out, around the laughter.
Kierom blinks a few times and shakes his head and straightens up his clothes and mumbles, "Way too busy around here."
"This is the busiest hour so far." Aspen announces. "Twenty percent more comings and goings than the morning rush. Mostly fetching things, however." He looks somewhat satisfied as he makes a tick in the appropriate column. "I think it's because the laundry gets done around this time, and dinner preparations begin." His speech comes in short, stacatto bursts. He eyes the blankets curiously. "Are you that cold at night? Because I know I am." He rises to his feet smoothly, as if pulled up by an invisible string. "The guards, however, seem to do most of their movement in the hour before lunch. I think the hunger makes them restless."
Once she manages to actually stop with the laughing and catch her breath, Aida starts to look sheepish -- then realizes that apparently, she managed to get away with it. The sunny smile comes back again, and she adjusts the blankets just so on her hip, settling in to a more comfortable standing position as she regards Aspen. There's a curious glance to Kierom as well, but it doesn't take long for her to look back to the one working. "You're compiling a report of general activity," she observes. "That's fascinating. And no -- I'm not particularly cold at night, not here; it's warmer than it could be. They aren't for me; I'm hauling them back to the infirmary."
Kierom raises an eyebrow at the man and hsakes his head and peers at the girl and sighs. "The Infirmary? Hmmmm. Interesting...." He grimaces and starts tapping his foot.
Aspen is a hard man to perturb. Probably because his appearance tends to be somewhat startling. "I thought I might suggest some architectural improvements. I think digging some extra connecting tunnels would render things more efficient. Also, a laundry slide system." he adds, eyeing the slope in the floor thoughtfully. "I see. Do you get to do any surgery there? I've been trying for Turns, but they won't let me cut anybody open." The next girl walking by gets a quick once-over and a few more check marks. "Have you met Neiran yet?"
"Believe it or not," Aida begins, dropping her voice as she leans over towards Kierom in a conspiratorial fashion. "The wounded get chilly, too." He's blinked at innocently, and then she looks back to Aspen and raises an eyebrow. "I'm not a healer," she points out. "And no, I have not."
Kierom looks curiously between the two. "Cutting people up should be left to the healers. They sem to keep busy now." He grimaces and chews on his lower lip. "More connecting tunnels?"
"You're not? Hm." Aspen looks rather disappointed. "Well, watch out for Neiran. Very dour. Loosens up when he climbs a tree, though." Scritch scritch, tick tick. "Putting people back together again should be left to the healers. I just want to cut one open. They can clean up, that's their specialty." he points out reasonably. Apparently he's given this a lot of thought. "Yes. A direct passage between the dorms and the tavern, for instance, would eliminate half the evening traffic flow through here. And a tunnel between the dorms and the facilities would eliminate a third of the morning traffic."
There's another sidelong glance at Kierom. Aida regards him for a long moment before she clears her throat, smile brightening a notch further. She doesn't say anything further to him, instead letting her attention drift back to Aspen. "Why is there a need to cut down the traffic here?" She queries, lifting a brow to go with it. "And...well, how practical would such tunnels be? Would it not be more work and time digging them than it would -- in a reasonable amount of time -- be for people to just do that bit of extra walking?"
Kierom shakes his head some. "Well, if you cut down on traffic then you cut down on running into people and having interesting conversations like this one. Plus it would be more places for people to hide in or escape from if they cause trouble." He shakes his head, thinking more like a guard and gives a quick smile to the girl.
"Not at all. I'm also noting that many redundant trips are made by people not loaded at capacity. For instance, you could easily be carrying more. A bag of tubers that you could drop off at the kitchens, as it is on your way to the infirmary." Aspen ticks off points on his fingers. "We could set up a system where we have one primary digger, who leaves buckets of waste material in the hallway. Anyone passing by towards the exit would take a full bucket, and anyone coming back would take an empty one. And anyone passing by would be free to take a swing of the pickaxe at the wall. Minimal effort, maximum economization." he says, sounding self-satisfied. "There already seem to be plenty of places for trouble. There's the murdered drudge, after all. That one seems to have slipped by you." Aspen sniffs. "That sort of thing would never have happened with the guards back home."
There's a skeptical look sent in Kierom's direction, and then she's fixing it on Aspen. It only deepens the more that the man talks, her eyes going a bit wide. Aida...well, she stares, really. It's not exactly shock or horror, but it certainly starts to creep in that direction, and when he finishes speaking she finally protests, "There /is/ such a thing as a bit too /much/ efficiency! At a certain point, it becomes utterly /impractical/."
Kierom glares at Aspen for a moment before blinking a couple of times. "Well, excuse me, but if the Weyr could take care of itself, they wouldn't of asked for additional guards to be sent here. Plus, you can't keep an eye on everyone mind you, much less a drudge. They seem to be less noticed than the guards are if possible. Unless there's trouble of course."
Aspen wrinkles his brow at Aida, clearly somewhat confused. "Of course efficiency is practical. That's a tautology. Would you rather carry more in one load, or make three trips? Someone walking by earlier could have carried those blankets for you, negating your need to make the trip at all." He spreads his long-sleeved arms and shrugs. "In which case, Kierom, I don't think that an extra tunnel or two will create that much room for trouble. Might even improve air flow, so you notice things better. That body smelled very very badly for weeks before it was discovered." He wrinkles his nose. "I merely thought someone had left out some leftovers for too long."
"What? Of course the Weyr can take care of itself!" Aida goes from skeptical to indignant, turning her eyes on Kierom and drawing herself up, puffing up quite like a little bird does. "It's just the Caucus being here that makes them need more guards, what with all the extra people." Feathers already ruffled, she turns her head to give Aspen the same indignant look. "It would end up taking just as much time," she points out. "Stopping and asking everyone along the way if they needed something in the way I was going? Impractical. You should think things through more. It's not practical at all."
Kierom glances in between the two. "I never said there wasn't a reason for more guards, just that we were told to come here, some of us barely finishing training first." He startes at Aspen, "And I was not the only person to miss the body, or connect the smell to a dead person. I've never smelled a decaying corpse before or been around one until I got here."
"Oh no. We would just put boxes labeled 'in' and 'out' in front of each room, and have people attach colored streamers to each package denoting its destination." Oh, how Aspen would be loved in a corporate world. Well, until he decided it was more efficient to set up a complicated trolley system in the office to save having to get up and walk anywhere. "Oh, I see. It's a deficiency in your education. Well, I suppose you can't be blamed for that. I could help remedy some of the deficiencies, however. I was a guard, once." He frowns and levels a finger at Kierom. "Just because you weren't the only one to miss it does not excuse the fact that you should have caught it. Your personal responsibility is still present." he chides.
A very tanned and very short young woman hurries through the caverns, her focus on her distination intent enough that others in the room aren't fully noted. She vanishes off into the corridor of private rooms.
"Maybe the fact that you hadn't finished training ought to tell you just how very 'necessary' you are here, and you did /so/ just say that, you said the Weyr couldn't take care of itself!" Aida puts her free hand on her hip, glowering up at the man. Oh, so fierce she is. "And that's completely untrue!" For the moment, she stops gaping at Aspen at least.
Kierom blinks at Aspen for a few moment. "So, with your guard training you thought a dead body smelled like leftovers someone forgot to put up or throw away? At least I can say this is my first time of dealing with it and didn't recognise the smell. If there is lacking in my training, I am sure Lt. Tiemon, who came with me, will make sure I lern it, thank you." He blinks at the girl, "I thought I said barely finished training, but I did finish it, thank you, " He insists. "I was told to come here because there was a need and not enough guards. That fact still hasn't changed, no matter the reason."
The run-by gets a slight frown from Aspen, and a reluctant one check mark. "She has a point. A weyr in trouble would not want untrained guards, but trained ones." he points out reasonably. "I'm not a guard anymore. I'm a caucus student. It is no longer my responsibility to find dead bodies. And ones that float ashore after a storm smell different." He sounds matter of fact; he's clearly dealt with bodies before.
"I think there's *plenty* lacking in your training, and does this Lt. Tiemon know you're wandering around insulting the Weyr?" Aida asks, voice lifting in pitch just a bit. "Just because there's a need or a use for something /doesn't/ mean that the Weyr couldn't do without it." She glares at him for another moment, then dips her head shortly to Aspen before she whirls and starts to walk away.
Kierom glares between the two. "I do have trainging and if you want to ask about it, you can ask Lt. Tiemon about it. He supervised some of it." He glances at Aspen, "Well, I didn't know dead bodies has different smells depending on location and don't know where you are from. I don't think I've caught your name either." He sighs and doesn't bother to ask either. He just looks at the girl as she turns away and sighs, shaking his head.
"It's like footstools." Aspen nods along to Aida's tirade, volunteering this helpful, if somewhat obscure comparison. "Very useful. But we could do without them." Guards are like footstools. "We were taught to be more polite." He notes idly to Kierom. Now there's the pot calling the kettle black for you, as Aspen's version of tact is taking two sentences to appall someone rather than one. "I'm Aspen, from Half Circle Sea Hold." he volunteers. "What's in the basket?" And he's immediately haring off after some hapless drudge with a large basket, demanding to know the contents and the destination.
Stalk stalk stalk. Aida, all righteous indignation and offended-girl, goes stalking away from the two, blankets still under her arm. She mutters under her breath and grumbles as she goes, even. It's very stereotypical.
Kierom glares between the two for a moment before turning around and mumbles to himself, "Nice to have met you both." His tone indicating otherwise.
Kierom gives one more glare to the two before completely heading out in a different direction than he was originally headed.
Who: Br'ce, Aida
Where: Northern Bowl
When: Later in the same day
What: No trouble! A meeting in which Aida didn't immediately get herself in trouble. Exactly. Just set the stage for it later.
It's a brisk and cold autumn day; the remnants of the first snow still cling to the shaded areas of the bowl and random pockets of ice are scattered among the fallen leaves. A lone figure is seated on a stool by the edge of the lake, with a large sketchbook in his lap. Trellazoth is nowhere in sight, choosing to stay indoors on a day like this and ogle greens, leaving his rider some precious solitude time. The page on sketchbook is mostly untouched, only a few lines casually sketched and then abandoned in favor of simply enjoying the view.
Cold. Cold, and yet considerably quieter than the caverns. Aida's huddled in her jacket as she slips out into the bowl, a brisk pace slowing once she's out of range of the noise. There's just a hint of something overwhelmed to the girl's features, though it fades away after a last glance cast over her shoulder back in the direction she came. Deep breath, big sigh exhaled, and she relaxes, shivering just a bit as she starts picking her way towards the lake. Quiet. Oh, wondrous quiet. It's not quite enough to chase the frown away, but it helps.
The crunch of feet on the gravel is what alerts Br'ce to a person come to join his solitude, making him glance over his shoulder. A welcoming smile is given towards the newcomer as he rises from the stool, gesturing at the view. "It's nice, isn't it." he says quietly, with the modulated tones of one of aristocratic birth.
Stilling entirely when she's addressed, Aida actually pauses mid-step, foot an inch or two above the ground. She snaps out of it after a heartbeat and orients in on Br'ce, studying him briefly before she manages to summon up a smile. There's a nod of agreement given, and then she's in motion again, approaching the rest of the way as she turns her eyes to said indicated view. "It is," she agrees. "Sharp, but beautiful."
"It is very much different from what I'm used to seeing." Br'ce says softly, tucking the sketchbook away under one arm. "Benden is much more..." he searches for an appropriate term. "--settled. Worn. Less jagged. Less harsh." Another pause before he lets out a long, regretful sounding sigh.
Drawing up a polite distance away from him, Aida promptly tugs her jacket a little tighter around herself, trying to keep out the cold just a little bit more. "At least you're able to appreciate it," she points out, dragging her eyes away from the landscape to settle them on Br'ce again. There's a moment given to his study, and then she's offering a sympathetic smile. "You miss home."
"Every landscape has its very own beauty. This one is rich and rugged, its uncompromising nature rendering it pure." Br'ce says, with the touch of the poetical in him. "Home changes, over the course of a life. I was very surprised, coming back from a sweep one day, to find that I thought of Benden as home. I'll get used to this landscape. There's no turning back for me, not anymore." He shares, with the peculiar honesty that one only has with strangers. "I grew up in Southern Boll, you know. A climate about as different from this one as you could possibly find."
There's a brief lift of an eyebrow at him, though Aida's expression settles out soon enough again, her smile turning gentle and staying there. She listens to him speak without interruption, attentive. "There's no turning back for anyone," she points out quietly once he's done, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "Just going forward. You can retread a road, but it'll never be the same." With that said, she does give an agreeable sort of nod. "I've heard a lot of those from warmer places talking about how hard the cold is to deal with. I can't imagine; I've never been anywhere that it was any warmer."
A wry smile twists the brownrider's lips. "Never dip in the same river twice, eh? You're a wise girl for your years." he says, treating her as an equal rather than being patronizing. "Sometimes, though, going forwards is what brings you back. Or maybe it was clinging to the past that brought me forwards." he muses cryptically. A brief shake of his head and a rueful smile later, he turns his attention from inwards back to outwards. "Imagine a sun that beats down on you with a palpable weight, like standing in the middle of a roaring fire, the brightness turning everything golden-hued. I imagine you might not enjoy such weather, either. It's difficult to transition from cold to hot, as well." A brief pause. "Have you ever wanted to go see those warmer places? To travel the world and experience what you have only read?"
For the moment he spends looking in, Aida's superficial attention drifts to the lake. Given the tilt of her head, she's certainly still focused his way -- but she'll at least give him the illusion of a moment's privacy. When he comes back to the world and such can be heard in his tone, blue eyes come back to him again. It's that last question that draws out a grin, amused and impish. "Yes," she admits with no hesitation. "That's what's brought me here. The world is too large of a place to stay somewhere where you'll never see any of it." One shoulder is shrugged, and she lets out a laugh. "I'm sure the heat would make me miserable for a while, but I'd adapt. Eventually."
"Here?" Br'ce emits a brief bark of laughter. "I suppose you're right. Riders do tend to gallivant off half-cocked on various jaunts to see the world. It's not as free, however, as you might think. There's always responsibilities to tend to. More work to be done. People to look after." There's that introspective look again. He clasps his hands behind his back, looking up to the sky. "As long as you are willing to abide by local clothing customs." he agrees to her last statement. "I knew a fellow once who nearly had apoplexy from seeing young girls walk around in sarongs on the beach. He nearly died of heatstroke, because he refused to take off his jacket. Inflexible. But with very strong integrity."
His bark of laughter is echoed in a soft chuckle, and Aida gives a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. At least she's capable of appreciating the humor in it. Tilting her head to the side a bit, she does give him a curious look at the explanation of the southern clothes. When he finishes, she asks, "What's a sarong?" Puzzled, curious. "Obviously, it's something that doesn't cover much, but..." She trails off there, smiling again and glancing back to the lake. "And it might seem silly to you, to come here to see things, but it's as close as most people can ever get, especially with the Caucus being here. I might never manage to get around to seeing much of anything bigger than this place, but I get to meet people and hear about it all, at least. And...believe me, I'm not under any illusions as far as the responsibilities go. The more freedom you get, the more you have to work for it. Usually."
"A sarong. It's a... er." Br'ce's pale skin colors easily when he blushes, and he's doing so now. "It's a skirt, of sorts. They wrap a light piece of cloth around their waists and then tie the corners together." The blush only deepens as Br'ce seems to descend further into recollections. "Ahem. I've met a few of the caucus students, and they seem like a bright and avid bunch to me." he says, in an attempt to change the subject. "You'll certainly be exposed to a lot of nonsense. Some holds obviously sent their troublemakers. Others actually did send their best. But there's still a lot of nonsense being taught." His conservative leanings are showing. "And are you content as you are, with less freedom but less responsibilities? Or do you wish for more?"
There's a bit of blinking in surprise when he explains the sarong. Aida starts to comment on it, but apparently chooses not to do so -- possibly because of that deepening blush. She does grin though, amusement flashing bright on her face for a moment before her smile calms again. There's a snort and a nod of agreement at his description of the caucus and the students, a wry grin. "I wouldn't know," she points out. "I'm not a student. I work in the infirmary. But to answer your question...I'm content, yes. How could I not be, when comparing this to where it is that I came from?" One hand actually comes out of a pocket so she can lift it around and wave it in a vague gesture towards the bowl as a whole. "Look around, and see it with eyes that grew up in a cothold that consisted of only a few handfuls of people. It's not limited at all." She pauses briefly, scanning the area she gestures to before turning her head to look up at him again. "Even so -- of course I wish for more. Who doesn't dream?"
Br'ce furrows his brow, looking around at what Aida gestures at. "I suppose you're right. I do look at these things with rather jaded vision. Grown cynical, in my old age." This is said wryly. "Something you have to look forwards to is growing more opinionated and becoming...tetchy." He flashes a smile. "I suspect that true happiness is dreaming only about what you already have. To want nothing more. I find that I'm a long way from achieving my ideal, however. It's a rather odd business. Wanting to not want. Wishing to not wish." He casts a sidelong glance at her. "My name is Br'ce. Rider of brown Trellazoth." he introduces himself, extending his hand, palm up.
There's an outright bright laugh at the statement of age and looking forward to, and Aida gives him an entirely amused look to go with it. The introduction delays any response on the subject though, and so instead she shifts on her feet to face him more, reaching to set her hand in his. "Aida," she says. "It's good to meet you, sir." Beat. "And I really, /really/ fear the potential of me becoming /more/ opinionated and yet more tetchy than I already am. My point was only that it's all relative." Beat. "Not having something to dream about would be a /terrible/ fate."
Br'ce turns a smile to Aida in response, bending over her hand in his best courtly fashion. The 'sir' gets her a twitched half-smile and an approving nod. A well brought up young lady with manners; he approves. "Well. It's hard for me to imagine a sweet girl like you being tetchy." he says with a crooked smile. "So what's the first place you would want to see, if you had a choice, my ambitious young friend? I've a fondness for seeing the fire mountains, myself, though that may just be because of the cold."
Tilting her head to the side just a bit when he bends over her hand, Aida's lips twitch with amusement. She does at least manage to keep from laughing, instead giving him a briefly skeptical look. Once her hand is her own again, she shifts a pace back, turning towards the lake again and folding her hands together behind her back. "You must not possess much of an imagination, then," she teases lightly, shrugging one shoulder. "I am 'ill tempered', I have been told." With that said, she tilts her head from side to side thoughtfully, then shrugs her shoulders. "The first place from here that I would want to see? Because 'here' was the first on my list. Mmm. I...don't know if I could choose...." She trails off, then looks sheepish. "And my knowledge of geography is very bad. South. Somewhere as drastically different from here as could be, since I'm dreaming."
"I have been occasionally accused of being rather stolid." Br'ce admits cheerfully. "It's an accusation I can live with. If not being stolid requires me to run around shrieking inanely while drinking rotgut, I'll stay stolid." He's at ease with his extravagant manners, at least, probably used to getting those kinds of reactions. "South from here covers a great deal." he says blandly, concealing a grin. "I have a good map of the continent, back in my weyr. Maybe I'll show it to you sometime. Everywhere's different. Though I haven't been south in a long long time." A shiver runs through his slender frame, as if the thought of warmer climes has stressed how cold it is out here. "I do believe that it grows colder out here. I do believe I shall retire indoors, for a cup of something hot."
"A map?" Aida focuses on that to the exclusion of all else for a moment, perking up and immediately looking terribly curious, eager. She catches herself after a few heartbeats, getting a rein on the curiosity and settling down again. "I would be very appreciative if you were to ever show it to me," she tells him, much more calmly. "I should also point out that there is a world of wiggle room, sir, between shrieking insanity and stolid. I don't think I'd use that word for you, though -- reserved, though, yes." There's a glance sent back towards the caverns, then her gaze flits up to his face -- she does at least manage to /mostly/ disguise her disappointment. "It probably does," she agrees. "Thank you for speaking with me?"
A flicker of surprise followed immediately by a smile is what crosses Br'ce's face at Aida's sudden enthusiasm. "I'll try to bring it by the infirmary some time." he says warmly. "Reserved. I think I like that." That seems to perk him up a bit, putting a bit of a spring in his step, so to speak. Hey, to each his own compliments. "It was my pleasure. We'll speak again soon." And with a courteous nod, he bids farewell to Aida, strolling back across the bowl towards warmer climes.
Laughing, Aida shrugs her shoulders. "Thank you," she comments, turning just enough that she can watch him at least a ways away. There's a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head at some internal thought, and she looks back to the lake, making a face at it. Hands go back into her pockets, and she huddles again. It /is/ cold out here.
Where: Lower Caverns
When: Day 4, Month 13, Turn 1
What: Aida meets Kierom and Aspen...and it doesn't go quite so well.
It's another bustling day in the Lower Caverns, and the primary impediment to traffic flow is one storkish, pale man, whose actual age is very hard to gauge due to his long white hair. Aspen appears to have seated himself, cross-legged, in the center of the caverns with a hide and a stylus, and is ticking off marks on the sheets as he watches people walk by, going in and out of rooms.
Kierom walks in, looking tired, almost running into the man with the hide before even noticing him. "Oh, excuse me, Sir."
Singing about half a note off-key (and all the more grating for it) as she wanders down the tunnels from the direction of the laundry, Aida seems half-lost in her own little world, a pile of blankets folded together and stuck under one arm. Once she's made it into the more bustling areas of the caverns she does at least lower her voice some. How kind of her.
Aspen peers backwards, looking at Kierom from upside down. "You're excused." he says magnanimously, making a mark on his sheet. Aida, however, gets several marks, and a sudden hesitation in Aspen's stylus. "What are the blankets for? Yours, or would you qualify it more as fetching? Or perhaps crafting." A thoughtful look down at the sheet before he looks back up.
When she's spoken to, Aida slides to a halt and trails the little song off (thank goodness), blinking over at Aspen for a moment. He is regarded in silence, then his sheet of parchment, and then him again. There's a fear heartbeats of silence before inexplicably, she starts to laugh. "Fetching," she manages to gasp out, around the laughter.
Kierom blinks a few times and shakes his head and straightens up his clothes and mumbles, "Way too busy around here."
"This is the busiest hour so far." Aspen announces. "Twenty percent more comings and goings than the morning rush. Mostly fetching things, however." He looks somewhat satisfied as he makes a tick in the appropriate column. "I think it's because the laundry gets done around this time, and dinner preparations begin." His speech comes in short, stacatto bursts. He eyes the blankets curiously. "Are you that cold at night? Because I know I am." He rises to his feet smoothly, as if pulled up by an invisible string. "The guards, however, seem to do most of their movement in the hour before lunch. I think the hunger makes them restless."
Once she manages to actually stop with the laughing and catch her breath, Aida starts to look sheepish -- then realizes that apparently, she managed to get away with it. The sunny smile comes back again, and she adjusts the blankets just so on her hip, settling in to a more comfortable standing position as she regards Aspen. There's a curious glance to Kierom as well, but it doesn't take long for her to look back to the one working. "You're compiling a report of general activity," she observes. "That's fascinating. And no -- I'm not particularly cold at night, not here; it's warmer than it could be. They aren't for me; I'm hauling them back to the infirmary."
Kierom raises an eyebrow at the man and hsakes his head and peers at the girl and sighs. "The Infirmary? Hmmmm. Interesting...." He grimaces and starts tapping his foot.
Aspen is a hard man to perturb. Probably because his appearance tends to be somewhat startling. "I thought I might suggest some architectural improvements. I think digging some extra connecting tunnels would render things more efficient. Also, a laundry slide system." he adds, eyeing the slope in the floor thoughtfully. "I see. Do you get to do any surgery there? I've been trying for Turns, but they won't let me cut anybody open." The next girl walking by gets a quick once-over and a few more check marks. "Have you met Neiran yet?"
"Believe it or not," Aida begins, dropping her voice as she leans over towards Kierom in a conspiratorial fashion. "The wounded get chilly, too." He's blinked at innocently, and then she looks back to Aspen and raises an eyebrow. "I'm not a healer," she points out. "And no, I have not."
Kierom looks curiously between the two. "Cutting people up should be left to the healers. They sem to keep busy now." He grimaces and chews on his lower lip. "More connecting tunnels?"
"You're not? Hm." Aspen looks rather disappointed. "Well, watch out for Neiran. Very dour. Loosens up when he climbs a tree, though." Scritch scritch, tick tick. "Putting people back together again should be left to the healers. I just want to cut one open. They can clean up, that's their specialty." he points out reasonably. Apparently he's given this a lot of thought. "Yes. A direct passage between the dorms and the tavern, for instance, would eliminate half the evening traffic flow through here. And a tunnel between the dorms and the facilities would eliminate a third of the morning traffic."
There's another sidelong glance at Kierom. Aida regards him for a long moment before she clears her throat, smile brightening a notch further. She doesn't say anything further to him, instead letting her attention drift back to Aspen. "Why is there a need to cut down the traffic here?" She queries, lifting a brow to go with it. "And...well, how practical would such tunnels be? Would it not be more work and time digging them than it would -- in a reasonable amount of time -- be for people to just do that bit of extra walking?"
Kierom shakes his head some. "Well, if you cut down on traffic then you cut down on running into people and having interesting conversations like this one. Plus it would be more places for people to hide in or escape from if they cause trouble." He shakes his head, thinking more like a guard and gives a quick smile to the girl.
"Not at all. I'm also noting that many redundant trips are made by people not loaded at capacity. For instance, you could easily be carrying more. A bag of tubers that you could drop off at the kitchens, as it is on your way to the infirmary." Aspen ticks off points on his fingers. "We could set up a system where we have one primary digger, who leaves buckets of waste material in the hallway. Anyone passing by towards the exit would take a full bucket, and anyone coming back would take an empty one. And anyone passing by would be free to take a swing of the pickaxe at the wall. Minimal effort, maximum economization." he says, sounding self-satisfied. "There already seem to be plenty of places for trouble. There's the murdered drudge, after all. That one seems to have slipped by you." Aspen sniffs. "That sort of thing would never have happened with the guards back home."
There's a skeptical look sent in Kierom's direction, and then she's fixing it on Aspen. It only deepens the more that the man talks, her eyes going a bit wide. Aida...well, she stares, really. It's not exactly shock or horror, but it certainly starts to creep in that direction, and when he finishes speaking she finally protests, "There /is/ such a thing as a bit too /much/ efficiency! At a certain point, it becomes utterly /impractical/."
Kierom glares at Aspen for a moment before blinking a couple of times. "Well, excuse me, but if the Weyr could take care of itself, they wouldn't of asked for additional guards to be sent here. Plus, you can't keep an eye on everyone mind you, much less a drudge. They seem to be less noticed than the guards are if possible. Unless there's trouble of course."
Aspen wrinkles his brow at Aida, clearly somewhat confused. "Of course efficiency is practical. That's a tautology. Would you rather carry more in one load, or make three trips? Someone walking by earlier could have carried those blankets for you, negating your need to make the trip at all." He spreads his long-sleeved arms and shrugs. "In which case, Kierom, I don't think that an extra tunnel or two will create that much room for trouble. Might even improve air flow, so you notice things better. That body smelled very very badly for weeks before it was discovered." He wrinkles his nose. "I merely thought someone had left out some leftovers for too long."
"What? Of course the Weyr can take care of itself!" Aida goes from skeptical to indignant, turning her eyes on Kierom and drawing herself up, puffing up quite like a little bird does. "It's just the Caucus being here that makes them need more guards, what with all the extra people." Feathers already ruffled, she turns her head to give Aspen the same indignant look. "It would end up taking just as much time," she points out. "Stopping and asking everyone along the way if they needed something in the way I was going? Impractical. You should think things through more. It's not practical at all."
Kierom glances in between the two. "I never said there wasn't a reason for more guards, just that we were told to come here, some of us barely finishing training first." He startes at Aspen, "And I was not the only person to miss the body, or connect the smell to a dead person. I've never smelled a decaying corpse before or been around one until I got here."
"Oh no. We would just put boxes labeled 'in' and 'out' in front of each room, and have people attach colored streamers to each package denoting its destination." Oh, how Aspen would be loved in a corporate world. Well, until he decided it was more efficient to set up a complicated trolley system in the office to save having to get up and walk anywhere. "Oh, I see. It's a deficiency in your education. Well, I suppose you can't be blamed for that. I could help remedy some of the deficiencies, however. I was a guard, once." He frowns and levels a finger at Kierom. "Just because you weren't the only one to miss it does not excuse the fact that you should have caught it. Your personal responsibility is still present." he chides.
A very tanned and very short young woman hurries through the caverns, her focus on her distination intent enough that others in the room aren't fully noted. She vanishes off into the corridor of private rooms.
"Maybe the fact that you hadn't finished training ought to tell you just how very 'necessary' you are here, and you did /so/ just say that, you said the Weyr couldn't take care of itself!" Aida puts her free hand on her hip, glowering up at the man. Oh, so fierce she is. "And that's completely untrue!" For the moment, she stops gaping at Aspen at least.
Kierom blinks at Aspen for a few moment. "So, with your guard training you thought a dead body smelled like leftovers someone forgot to put up or throw away? At least I can say this is my first time of dealing with it and didn't recognise the smell. If there is lacking in my training, I am sure Lt. Tiemon, who came with me, will make sure I lern it, thank you." He blinks at the girl, "I thought I said barely finished training, but I did finish it, thank you, " He insists. "I was told to come here because there was a need and not enough guards. That fact still hasn't changed, no matter the reason."
The run-by gets a slight frown from Aspen, and a reluctant one check mark. "She has a point. A weyr in trouble would not want untrained guards, but trained ones." he points out reasonably. "I'm not a guard anymore. I'm a caucus student. It is no longer my responsibility to find dead bodies. And ones that float ashore after a storm smell different." He sounds matter of fact; he's clearly dealt with bodies before.
"I think there's *plenty* lacking in your training, and does this Lt. Tiemon know you're wandering around insulting the Weyr?" Aida asks, voice lifting in pitch just a bit. "Just because there's a need or a use for something /doesn't/ mean that the Weyr couldn't do without it." She glares at him for another moment, then dips her head shortly to Aspen before she whirls and starts to walk away.
Kierom glares between the two. "I do have trainging and if you want to ask about it, you can ask Lt. Tiemon about it. He supervised some of it." He glances at Aspen, "Well, I didn't know dead bodies has different smells depending on location and don't know where you are from. I don't think I've caught your name either." He sighs and doesn't bother to ask either. He just looks at the girl as she turns away and sighs, shaking his head.
"It's like footstools." Aspen nods along to Aida's tirade, volunteering this helpful, if somewhat obscure comparison. "Very useful. But we could do without them." Guards are like footstools. "We were taught to be more polite." He notes idly to Kierom. Now there's the pot calling the kettle black for you, as Aspen's version of tact is taking two sentences to appall someone rather than one. "I'm Aspen, from Half Circle Sea Hold." he volunteers. "What's in the basket?" And he's immediately haring off after some hapless drudge with a large basket, demanding to know the contents and the destination.
Stalk stalk stalk. Aida, all righteous indignation and offended-girl, goes stalking away from the two, blankets still under her arm. She mutters under her breath and grumbles as she goes, even. It's very stereotypical.
Kierom glares between the two for a moment before turning around and mumbles to himself, "Nice to have met you both." His tone indicating otherwise.
Kierom gives one more glare to the two before completely heading out in a different direction than he was originally headed.
Who: Br'ce, Aida
Where: Northern Bowl
When: Later in the same day
What: No trouble! A meeting in which Aida didn't immediately get herself in trouble. Exactly. Just set the stage for it later.
It's a brisk and cold autumn day; the remnants of the first snow still cling to the shaded areas of the bowl and random pockets of ice are scattered among the fallen leaves. A lone figure is seated on a stool by the edge of the lake, with a large sketchbook in his lap. Trellazoth is nowhere in sight, choosing to stay indoors on a day like this and ogle greens, leaving his rider some precious solitude time. The page on sketchbook is mostly untouched, only a few lines casually sketched and then abandoned in favor of simply enjoying the view.
Cold. Cold, and yet considerably quieter than the caverns. Aida's huddled in her jacket as she slips out into the bowl, a brisk pace slowing once she's out of range of the noise. There's just a hint of something overwhelmed to the girl's features, though it fades away after a last glance cast over her shoulder back in the direction she came. Deep breath, big sigh exhaled, and she relaxes, shivering just a bit as she starts picking her way towards the lake. Quiet. Oh, wondrous quiet. It's not quite enough to chase the frown away, but it helps.
The crunch of feet on the gravel is what alerts Br'ce to a person come to join his solitude, making him glance over his shoulder. A welcoming smile is given towards the newcomer as he rises from the stool, gesturing at the view. "It's nice, isn't it." he says quietly, with the modulated tones of one of aristocratic birth.
Stilling entirely when she's addressed, Aida actually pauses mid-step, foot an inch or two above the ground. She snaps out of it after a heartbeat and orients in on Br'ce, studying him briefly before she manages to summon up a smile. There's a nod of agreement given, and then she's in motion again, approaching the rest of the way as she turns her eyes to said indicated view. "It is," she agrees. "Sharp, but beautiful."
"It is very much different from what I'm used to seeing." Br'ce says softly, tucking the sketchbook away under one arm. "Benden is much more..." he searches for an appropriate term. "--settled. Worn. Less jagged. Less harsh." Another pause before he lets out a long, regretful sounding sigh.
Drawing up a polite distance away from him, Aida promptly tugs her jacket a little tighter around herself, trying to keep out the cold just a little bit more. "At least you're able to appreciate it," she points out, dragging her eyes away from the landscape to settle them on Br'ce again. There's a moment given to his study, and then she's offering a sympathetic smile. "You miss home."
"Every landscape has its very own beauty. This one is rich and rugged, its uncompromising nature rendering it pure." Br'ce says, with the touch of the poetical in him. "Home changes, over the course of a life. I was very surprised, coming back from a sweep one day, to find that I thought of Benden as home. I'll get used to this landscape. There's no turning back for me, not anymore." He shares, with the peculiar honesty that one only has with strangers. "I grew up in Southern Boll, you know. A climate about as different from this one as you could possibly find."
There's a brief lift of an eyebrow at him, though Aida's expression settles out soon enough again, her smile turning gentle and staying there. She listens to him speak without interruption, attentive. "There's no turning back for anyone," she points out quietly once he's done, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "Just going forward. You can retread a road, but it'll never be the same." With that said, she does give an agreeable sort of nod. "I've heard a lot of those from warmer places talking about how hard the cold is to deal with. I can't imagine; I've never been anywhere that it was any warmer."
A wry smile twists the brownrider's lips. "Never dip in the same river twice, eh? You're a wise girl for your years." he says, treating her as an equal rather than being patronizing. "Sometimes, though, going forwards is what brings you back. Or maybe it was clinging to the past that brought me forwards." he muses cryptically. A brief shake of his head and a rueful smile later, he turns his attention from inwards back to outwards. "Imagine a sun that beats down on you with a palpable weight, like standing in the middle of a roaring fire, the brightness turning everything golden-hued. I imagine you might not enjoy such weather, either. It's difficult to transition from cold to hot, as well." A brief pause. "Have you ever wanted to go see those warmer places? To travel the world and experience what you have only read?"
For the moment he spends looking in, Aida's superficial attention drifts to the lake. Given the tilt of her head, she's certainly still focused his way -- but she'll at least give him the illusion of a moment's privacy. When he comes back to the world and such can be heard in his tone, blue eyes come back to him again. It's that last question that draws out a grin, amused and impish. "Yes," she admits with no hesitation. "That's what's brought me here. The world is too large of a place to stay somewhere where you'll never see any of it." One shoulder is shrugged, and she lets out a laugh. "I'm sure the heat would make me miserable for a while, but I'd adapt. Eventually."
"Here?" Br'ce emits a brief bark of laughter. "I suppose you're right. Riders do tend to gallivant off half-cocked on various jaunts to see the world. It's not as free, however, as you might think. There's always responsibilities to tend to. More work to be done. People to look after." There's that introspective look again. He clasps his hands behind his back, looking up to the sky. "As long as you are willing to abide by local clothing customs." he agrees to her last statement. "I knew a fellow once who nearly had apoplexy from seeing young girls walk around in sarongs on the beach. He nearly died of heatstroke, because he refused to take off his jacket. Inflexible. But with very strong integrity."
His bark of laughter is echoed in a soft chuckle, and Aida gives a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. At least she's capable of appreciating the humor in it. Tilting her head to the side a bit, she does give him a curious look at the explanation of the southern clothes. When he finishes, she asks, "What's a sarong?" Puzzled, curious. "Obviously, it's something that doesn't cover much, but..." She trails off there, smiling again and glancing back to the lake. "And it might seem silly to you, to come here to see things, but it's as close as most people can ever get, especially with the Caucus being here. I might never manage to get around to seeing much of anything bigger than this place, but I get to meet people and hear about it all, at least. And...believe me, I'm not under any illusions as far as the responsibilities go. The more freedom you get, the more you have to work for it. Usually."
"A sarong. It's a... er." Br'ce's pale skin colors easily when he blushes, and he's doing so now. "It's a skirt, of sorts. They wrap a light piece of cloth around their waists and then tie the corners together." The blush only deepens as Br'ce seems to descend further into recollections. "Ahem. I've met a few of the caucus students, and they seem like a bright and avid bunch to me." he says, in an attempt to change the subject. "You'll certainly be exposed to a lot of nonsense. Some holds obviously sent their troublemakers. Others actually did send their best. But there's still a lot of nonsense being taught." His conservative leanings are showing. "And are you content as you are, with less freedom but less responsibilities? Or do you wish for more?"
There's a bit of blinking in surprise when he explains the sarong. Aida starts to comment on it, but apparently chooses not to do so -- possibly because of that deepening blush. She does grin though, amusement flashing bright on her face for a moment before her smile calms again. There's a snort and a nod of agreement at his description of the caucus and the students, a wry grin. "I wouldn't know," she points out. "I'm not a student. I work in the infirmary. But to answer your question...I'm content, yes. How could I not be, when comparing this to where it is that I came from?" One hand actually comes out of a pocket so she can lift it around and wave it in a vague gesture towards the bowl as a whole. "Look around, and see it with eyes that grew up in a cothold that consisted of only a few handfuls of people. It's not limited at all." She pauses briefly, scanning the area she gestures to before turning her head to look up at him again. "Even so -- of course I wish for more. Who doesn't dream?"
Br'ce furrows his brow, looking around at what Aida gestures at. "I suppose you're right. I do look at these things with rather jaded vision. Grown cynical, in my old age." This is said wryly. "Something you have to look forwards to is growing more opinionated and becoming...tetchy." He flashes a smile. "I suspect that true happiness is dreaming only about what you already have. To want nothing more. I find that I'm a long way from achieving my ideal, however. It's a rather odd business. Wanting to not want. Wishing to not wish." He casts a sidelong glance at her. "My name is Br'ce. Rider of brown Trellazoth." he introduces himself, extending his hand, palm up.
There's an outright bright laugh at the statement of age and looking forward to, and Aida gives him an entirely amused look to go with it. The introduction delays any response on the subject though, and so instead she shifts on her feet to face him more, reaching to set her hand in his. "Aida," she says. "It's good to meet you, sir." Beat. "And I really, /really/ fear the potential of me becoming /more/ opinionated and yet more tetchy than I already am. My point was only that it's all relative." Beat. "Not having something to dream about would be a /terrible/ fate."
Br'ce turns a smile to Aida in response, bending over her hand in his best courtly fashion. The 'sir' gets her a twitched half-smile and an approving nod. A well brought up young lady with manners; he approves. "Well. It's hard for me to imagine a sweet girl like you being tetchy." he says with a crooked smile. "So what's the first place you would want to see, if you had a choice, my ambitious young friend? I've a fondness for seeing the fire mountains, myself, though that may just be because of the cold."
Tilting her head to the side just a bit when he bends over her hand, Aida's lips twitch with amusement. She does at least manage to keep from laughing, instead giving him a briefly skeptical look. Once her hand is her own again, she shifts a pace back, turning towards the lake again and folding her hands together behind her back. "You must not possess much of an imagination, then," she teases lightly, shrugging one shoulder. "I am 'ill tempered', I have been told." With that said, she tilts her head from side to side thoughtfully, then shrugs her shoulders. "The first place from here that I would want to see? Because 'here' was the first on my list. Mmm. I...don't know if I could choose...." She trails off, then looks sheepish. "And my knowledge of geography is very bad. South. Somewhere as drastically different from here as could be, since I'm dreaming."
"I have been occasionally accused of being rather stolid." Br'ce admits cheerfully. "It's an accusation I can live with. If not being stolid requires me to run around shrieking inanely while drinking rotgut, I'll stay stolid." He's at ease with his extravagant manners, at least, probably used to getting those kinds of reactions. "South from here covers a great deal." he says blandly, concealing a grin. "I have a good map of the continent, back in my weyr. Maybe I'll show it to you sometime. Everywhere's different. Though I haven't been south in a long long time." A shiver runs through his slender frame, as if the thought of warmer climes has stressed how cold it is out here. "I do believe that it grows colder out here. I do believe I shall retire indoors, for a cup of something hot."
"A map?" Aida focuses on that to the exclusion of all else for a moment, perking up and immediately looking terribly curious, eager. She catches herself after a few heartbeats, getting a rein on the curiosity and settling down again. "I would be very appreciative if you were to ever show it to me," she tells him, much more calmly. "I should also point out that there is a world of wiggle room, sir, between shrieking insanity and stolid. I don't think I'd use that word for you, though -- reserved, though, yes." There's a glance sent back towards the caverns, then her gaze flits up to his face -- she does at least manage to /mostly/ disguise her disappointment. "It probably does," she agrees. "Thank you for speaking with me?"
A flicker of surprise followed immediately by a smile is what crosses Br'ce's face at Aida's sudden enthusiasm. "I'll try to bring it by the infirmary some time." he says warmly. "Reserved. I think I like that." That seems to perk him up a bit, putting a bit of a spring in his step, so to speak. Hey, to each his own compliments. "It was my pleasure. We'll speak again soon." And with a courteous nod, he bids farewell to Aida, strolling back across the bowl towards warmer climes.
Laughing, Aida shrugs her shoulders. "Thank you," she comments, turning just enough that she can watch him at least a ways away. There's a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head at some internal thought, and she looks back to the lake, making a face at it. Hands go back into her pockets, and she huddles again. It /is/ cold out here.