Hello, my name is...
Scene: Aivey and N'tain have a chat. It's a pleasant chat.
Players: N'tain and Aivey
Place: Lower Caverns
Scene is late in being posted and happens the day before Luren's murder
Lower Caverns
This is the residential hub of the Weyr, an area honeycombed with rooms and tunnels. To the south are doorways that lead to the baths and laundry. The southeast is given over to the tunnel that takes one away from High Reaches. A hallway that leads to residents' private rooms wanders off to the southwest, not far from the door that hides the dormitories. The living caverns are to the north.
As a high traffic area, there is little decoration to be seen. Small plates beside each door or tunnel mark the room's purpose and some effort has been made to soften the coldness of the stone by scattering rugs over the floor, but for the most part this is a thoroughfare rather than a true destination.
For the most part, Aivey has staked out a small section of the lower caverns main passage and is currently settled on a stool, half stooped over a basket brimming with an assortment of items. Smaller piles lay within the two smaller baskets near the first, though it's not immediately obvious as to what she's doing she seems to have an easy time with it. Pulling an object out of the largest basket, Aivey turns it over in her hands several times, rubs her thumb along a crack in the tin's side before depositing it in one of the secondary baskets.
N'tai trudges in, looking a bit ill-pressed and unkempt as the day winds down, his clothes untidy and his hair uncombed and such. But the towel slung around his shoulders and the bar of soap in his hand indicates he means to correct this soon. On his way through, he naturally sees Aivey and-- curiosity piqued almost immediately-- he stops to investigate her and her items. "Ah. Hi."
Aivey is in the process of studying a new item, this a toy without its head. She's in the process of drawing it down to her side - perhaps to rub it against her thigh for that's what she does as she hears N'tai's greeting. A small smile is turned upon him, full of that simplistic cheerfulness everyone loves, "Sir, how are you?" Sir to a Weyrling, yes. Aivey eyes the soap and the towel, helpfully adding, "There's plenty of fresh towels in there sir, I put some in myself."
"Better safe than sorry, I say," explains N'tai, pulling the towel off his shoulders with the flash of a broken smile. Once upon a time, it was probably quite a nice smile, but now it's pursed to one side-- but at least he knows where his towel is. "Mm, can I ask what you're doing out here, miss? With all this-- stuff?"
"Doin' my work, sir. Need to clean out a room and there was all this stuff in it," Aivey waves vaguely to the baskets, indicating the broken, half broken and dissued items stored within, "Ain't much to look at, but they want me to figure out if some of it can be fixed or if it should just be thrown away," Her lips purse, "Ain't right to throw good stuff away, even if it's a little broke." She looks back to N'tai, studying him for a moment, "You was the one that got hurt, weren't you? I was there."
N'tai says mildly, "I was there, too." Were it not for the rough chuckle that follows, there /might/ have been a chide in his tone. As it is, he veers a wide arc around to come and look at all the stuff Aivey's got. "I'm N'tai, and I'm not sure as sir's appropriate. Given the whole weyrling bit." About which he does not necessarily sound thrilled, but whatever. "Pretty industrious of you, this chore. Do you have to fix it, too? Or just decide if it's fixable?"
"No sir, ain't got the mind for fixin' just the decidin'. It's real easy," Ignoring his request to not be called sir, Aivey shows him the decapitated toy, "This here can be fixed but it's gonna end up like this again. Could be used for somethin' else, maybe, and that somethin' else might last longer so I put it here," She drops it in a basket of some potentially useful items, "This though," Here she pulls out a cracked and handle-less mug, "This won' be good to anyone so I put it here," Into the trash basket it goes. "Remember that. Wasn't good, what happened, but it's good to see you weren't harmed none for it." In a more lethal way.
N'tai contemplates Aivey briefly, giving her the kind of measuring look that generally indicates that one person is trying to decide if another person is mentally deficient without giving away that that's what they're doing. "Someone could use it for holding quills or something, but I guess most people who would have a need to hold quills would have the marks to buy a proper quill-holder, so there goes that," he remarks with a nod to the broken mug. "What's your name?" he adds abruptly, right on the tail-end the last of Aivey's remarks.
Aivey snorts with amusement, "A mug like that to hold quills...chipped and got no handle," She looks mirthfully up at N'tai, not at all seeming to mind the study he places her under, "Aivey, sir. That's my name," A hand is offered that, unfortunately for N'tai, is dampened with grease and whatever else is on those items she's been digging through - a fact not likely to be discovered until contact is made. "What's his name? Can't say I remember all that well. Was lots happening then."
N'tai's hands have grease stains on them, and who-knows-what-else that comes from a day among weyrling dragons. He gives Aivey's hand a quick shake, saying pleasantly, "Pleasure to meet you, miss." He takes his hand back, relaxing back on to his heels with his hands back on either end of the towel. "His? --Oh. Oh, Boranth? His name's Boranth. I don't think as I had one of those 'he says his name is Boranth!' moments that I remember, so don't worry much about it," with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"You was probably too busy with that there," Aivey makes a sharp jerk with her hand to indicate those scars, scars she keeps looking at with no attempt at hiding her actions. A pause later, she says, "Boranth. That's kinda neat. Do you call him Bo or anything like that? Had a friend named Bo, 'course he got sick and we didn't talk much after that." Frowning into her basket, she rumages around for a salvageable item, tosses it into the basket of keeps and repeats the process.
N'tai says promptly, "No. I call him Boranth-- don't think he'd take to a nickname like that." After a time of it, he eventually starts rubbing the edge of his face with his knuckles, indicating at least /some/ discomfort with the whole peering thing. "Do people have a nickname for you? Like-- Aiv or something? They used to call me Nate. My sister, anyway. Nobody else, really."
"People do," Aivey says with a small nod of her head, "Ain't nothing like that. Most times its 'Hey you!' or 'Girl!'. Folks don't always use my name," As though those two examples hadn't proved that. "Don't mind what they call me, so long as it ain't that word. Stupid, you know," She glances toward him, watching the scar itching. Perplexed, she says, "Shame 'bout those scars. You's a good looking man but some girls like that. They says it adds character and stuff." Her? The way she frowns she might not be considering it character.
"I'm considering it a check for my ego." N'tai says it drily, without much feeling behind it, but with a shrug to keep the expression company. "Are you?" Since she's talking about his scarred up face, he might as well give tit for tat. "Stupid, I mean."
"Don't think so," Aivey says after giving the question a good, long moment of thought, "Some folks think so but just 'cause they do don't mean it's true, right?" The same, simple smile is offered toward him. "Ain't never been to a Weyr before, so that might be it. Things is different here and lots of folk are just mad so they aren't that nice." She pauses in her sorting to regard N'tai, "You think I'm stupid, sir?"
N'tai answers honestly, "I don't know you well enough to answer that, really. Plus, I'm not so much one to judge." Pausing, lips pursed, he adds, "That's not to say as you /seem/ dumb or I think /I'm/ dumb, but yeah. I think, if you were stupid, you'd probably know that better than I would. Don't you think?"
"Oh," And this has Aivey pausing again, "Maybe so. But I don't think I am....and even if I was, I suppose it wouldn't be so bad 'cause there's worse things then bein' dumb," This time her look at the scars is more discreet, but still there and easily caught. "Could be why I didn't get a dragon like you. They don't like dumb folks, do they?"
Again, N'tai shrugs inconclusively. "I dunno, to be honest. I dunno /what/ they want. I don't have much in common with the other weyrlings so far as I can tell, so maybe it's got nothing to do with anything /we/ can see?" He eyes her work again, head leaning thoughtfully to one side, eyes absently trained on Aivey's work. "Were you a candidate? I kinda thought you were, but I didn't really get a chance to meet 'em all myself."
"I was for a while," Aivey says with a pleasant nod, "Stood an' watched all you go and Impress. Shame that one that got hurt came out all wrong," She shakes her head, not going so far as to tsk with displeasure but it's there in her tone all the same, "Was an interesting thing, standing for that clutch. Lots of folks thought it weren't right, bein Igen's clutch and not ours but an eggs an egg, don't matter how you look at it."
"He seems to be getting on-- or I think he is." N'tai doesn't seem all that /involved/ as a weyrling, either, no moreso than he was as a candidate. He does listen rather intently to Aivey's remarks, his brows drawing together to put a crease above his nose. "I'm still not real clear on the whole subject, to tell you the truth. About Igen's eggs or 'our' eggs or whatever." Complete with air-quotes and a disdainful tone. "You from here?"
"Well...the way folks are talking, Igen isn't very much liked, what with how that woman went and stole the.. don't know the word for it, but she stole somethin' and most folks are taking too kindly to that. And then that other fellow, J'cor I think his name is... he went and took what should've been someone elses spot. It's kinda like a game, 'cept they went and cheated." Aivey delivers this as she thinks through it, complete with a few puzzled frowns at the basket. N'tai isn't yet looked at, "So it's they're eggs that was on the sands, and they're from dragons that ain't from here which makes 'em Igen eggs and not our eggs." A pause for breath, "From here now, weren't always. Call this home though, so I figure I'm one of them the our's."
most folks are/most folks aren't (key difference!)
After a thoughtful pause, N'tai asks, "So that means the dragons aren't really 'ours' either?" Not that he seems at all perturbed by it-- in fact, perhaps a little intrigued. "How long've you been here? --Which is a roundabout way of asking how long a person's gotta live at one place before they start calling it home, I guess."
"Some folks might think that, yeah," Aivey says, pleased that she explained things right, "Can't say if they're right, just it's what they're thinkin'...at least how I'm hearing it." She finishes emptying out the largest basket and now looks at the two smaller ones, "Been here...well...been here since before them eggs was on the sands and a bit before that woman went and took the place over. How about you?"
N'tai says like that explains it, "Oh, not that long." He starts reckoning time, dropping one hand from the end of his towel and tapping the ends of his fingers with the ends of his thumbs. "Since right around the time the eggs were laid, really. So however many months that is. It wasn't winter any more, I know that for sure. --Where'd you come from?"
"Right. Weren't that long ago," Aivey says amicably, now studying N'tai like he were kin, "Funny we didn't come in together or see one 'nother 'till now, ain't it?" She eases off her stool and starts dusting herself off, "Came from this little place. Small hold of sorts, ain't nothin' much to talk about. Here now and that's all that matters, yeah?" A half smile is directed toward N'tai.
Hitching his thumb toward the exit tunnel, N'tai explains, "I spent a lotta time out of the Weyr, actually. My family's traders, and the wagons are-- /were/ just down the road. Running ice. It's hard to explain." So he waves it off blandly. "I guess that's what matters? I dunno. I like hearing about where people're from. I've been a lotta places, really, and it's kind of like revisiting."
"Weren't never where I'm from," Aivey says with certainty, "Don' even think its around no more, make it right hard to visit if it ain't there." She takes a step toward the heaviest looking basket then looks back to N'tai, "Didn't mean to keep you from your bath, sir, you's got lots to take care of I imagine, and it ain't right to hold you up." A dismissal, in other words, mostly to suit his needs for all that Aivey seems quite concerned with them.
With a chuckle, "I was obviously fishing for a little company." N'tai takes the hinted dismissal, though, nodding pleasantly to the young woman as he skirts his way around the edge of the room. "Nice talking to you," he adds honestly, not in that 'I'm just saying it to be polite' way that a lot of people will toss out at the end of a conversation. At that, he does in fact head off to the baths.
Players: N'tain and Aivey
Place: Lower Caverns
Scene is late in being posted and happens the day before Luren's murder
Lower Caverns
This is the residential hub of the Weyr, an area honeycombed with rooms and tunnels. To the south are doorways that lead to the baths and laundry. The southeast is given over to the tunnel that takes one away from High Reaches. A hallway that leads to residents' private rooms wanders off to the southwest, not far from the door that hides the dormitories. The living caverns are to the north.
As a high traffic area, there is little decoration to be seen. Small plates beside each door or tunnel mark the room's purpose and some effort has been made to soften the coldness of the stone by scattering rugs over the floor, but for the most part this is a thoroughfare rather than a true destination.
For the most part, Aivey has staked out a small section of the lower caverns main passage and is currently settled on a stool, half stooped over a basket brimming with an assortment of items. Smaller piles lay within the two smaller baskets near the first, though it's not immediately obvious as to what she's doing she seems to have an easy time with it. Pulling an object out of the largest basket, Aivey turns it over in her hands several times, rubs her thumb along a crack in the tin's side before depositing it in one of the secondary baskets.
N'tai trudges in, looking a bit ill-pressed and unkempt as the day winds down, his clothes untidy and his hair uncombed and such. But the towel slung around his shoulders and the bar of soap in his hand indicates he means to correct this soon. On his way through, he naturally sees Aivey and-- curiosity piqued almost immediately-- he stops to investigate her and her items. "Ah. Hi."
Aivey is in the process of studying a new item, this a toy without its head. She's in the process of drawing it down to her side - perhaps to rub it against her thigh for that's what she does as she hears N'tai's greeting. A small smile is turned upon him, full of that simplistic cheerfulness everyone loves, "Sir, how are you?" Sir to a Weyrling, yes. Aivey eyes the soap and the towel, helpfully adding, "There's plenty of fresh towels in there sir, I put some in myself."
"Better safe than sorry, I say," explains N'tai, pulling the towel off his shoulders with the flash of a broken smile. Once upon a time, it was probably quite a nice smile, but now it's pursed to one side-- but at least he knows where his towel is. "Mm, can I ask what you're doing out here, miss? With all this-- stuff?"
"Doin' my work, sir. Need to clean out a room and there was all this stuff in it," Aivey waves vaguely to the baskets, indicating the broken, half broken and dissued items stored within, "Ain't much to look at, but they want me to figure out if some of it can be fixed or if it should just be thrown away," Her lips purse, "Ain't right to throw good stuff away, even if it's a little broke." She looks back to N'tai, studying him for a moment, "You was the one that got hurt, weren't you? I was there."
N'tai says mildly, "I was there, too." Were it not for the rough chuckle that follows, there /might/ have been a chide in his tone. As it is, he veers a wide arc around to come and look at all the stuff Aivey's got. "I'm N'tai, and I'm not sure as sir's appropriate. Given the whole weyrling bit." About which he does not necessarily sound thrilled, but whatever. "Pretty industrious of you, this chore. Do you have to fix it, too? Or just decide if it's fixable?"
"No sir, ain't got the mind for fixin' just the decidin'. It's real easy," Ignoring his request to not be called sir, Aivey shows him the decapitated toy, "This here can be fixed but it's gonna end up like this again. Could be used for somethin' else, maybe, and that somethin' else might last longer so I put it here," She drops it in a basket of some potentially useful items, "This though," Here she pulls out a cracked and handle-less mug, "This won' be good to anyone so I put it here," Into the trash basket it goes. "Remember that. Wasn't good, what happened, but it's good to see you weren't harmed none for it." In a more lethal way.
N'tai contemplates Aivey briefly, giving her the kind of measuring look that generally indicates that one person is trying to decide if another person is mentally deficient without giving away that that's what they're doing. "Someone could use it for holding quills or something, but I guess most people who would have a need to hold quills would have the marks to buy a proper quill-holder, so there goes that," he remarks with a nod to the broken mug. "What's your name?" he adds abruptly, right on the tail-end the last of Aivey's remarks.
Aivey snorts with amusement, "A mug like that to hold quills...chipped and got no handle," She looks mirthfully up at N'tai, not at all seeming to mind the study he places her under, "Aivey, sir. That's my name," A hand is offered that, unfortunately for N'tai, is dampened with grease and whatever else is on those items she's been digging through - a fact not likely to be discovered until contact is made. "What's his name? Can't say I remember all that well. Was lots happening then."
N'tai's hands have grease stains on them, and who-knows-what-else that comes from a day among weyrling dragons. He gives Aivey's hand a quick shake, saying pleasantly, "Pleasure to meet you, miss." He takes his hand back, relaxing back on to his heels with his hands back on either end of the towel. "His? --Oh. Oh, Boranth? His name's Boranth. I don't think as I had one of those 'he says his name is Boranth!' moments that I remember, so don't worry much about it," with a self-deprecating chuckle.
"You was probably too busy with that there," Aivey makes a sharp jerk with her hand to indicate those scars, scars she keeps looking at with no attempt at hiding her actions. A pause later, she says, "Boranth. That's kinda neat. Do you call him Bo or anything like that? Had a friend named Bo, 'course he got sick and we didn't talk much after that." Frowning into her basket, she rumages around for a salvageable item, tosses it into the basket of keeps and repeats the process.
N'tai says promptly, "No. I call him Boranth-- don't think he'd take to a nickname like that." After a time of it, he eventually starts rubbing the edge of his face with his knuckles, indicating at least /some/ discomfort with the whole peering thing. "Do people have a nickname for you? Like-- Aiv or something? They used to call me Nate. My sister, anyway. Nobody else, really."
"People do," Aivey says with a small nod of her head, "Ain't nothing like that. Most times its 'Hey you!' or 'Girl!'. Folks don't always use my name," As though those two examples hadn't proved that. "Don't mind what they call me, so long as it ain't that word. Stupid, you know," She glances toward him, watching the scar itching. Perplexed, she says, "Shame 'bout those scars. You's a good looking man but some girls like that. They says it adds character and stuff." Her? The way she frowns she might not be considering it character.
"I'm considering it a check for my ego." N'tai says it drily, without much feeling behind it, but with a shrug to keep the expression company. "Are you?" Since she's talking about his scarred up face, he might as well give tit for tat. "Stupid, I mean."
"Don't think so," Aivey says after giving the question a good, long moment of thought, "Some folks think so but just 'cause they do don't mean it's true, right?" The same, simple smile is offered toward him. "Ain't never been to a Weyr before, so that might be it. Things is different here and lots of folk are just mad so they aren't that nice." She pauses in her sorting to regard N'tai, "You think I'm stupid, sir?"
N'tai answers honestly, "I don't know you well enough to answer that, really. Plus, I'm not so much one to judge." Pausing, lips pursed, he adds, "That's not to say as you /seem/ dumb or I think /I'm/ dumb, but yeah. I think, if you were stupid, you'd probably know that better than I would. Don't you think?"
"Oh," And this has Aivey pausing again, "Maybe so. But I don't think I am....and even if I was, I suppose it wouldn't be so bad 'cause there's worse things then bein' dumb," This time her look at the scars is more discreet, but still there and easily caught. "Could be why I didn't get a dragon like you. They don't like dumb folks, do they?"
Again, N'tai shrugs inconclusively. "I dunno, to be honest. I dunno /what/ they want. I don't have much in common with the other weyrlings so far as I can tell, so maybe it's got nothing to do with anything /we/ can see?" He eyes her work again, head leaning thoughtfully to one side, eyes absently trained on Aivey's work. "Were you a candidate? I kinda thought you were, but I didn't really get a chance to meet 'em all myself."
"I was for a while," Aivey says with a pleasant nod, "Stood an' watched all you go and Impress. Shame that one that got hurt came out all wrong," She shakes her head, not going so far as to tsk with displeasure but it's there in her tone all the same, "Was an interesting thing, standing for that clutch. Lots of folks thought it weren't right, bein Igen's clutch and not ours but an eggs an egg, don't matter how you look at it."
"He seems to be getting on-- or I think he is." N'tai doesn't seem all that /involved/ as a weyrling, either, no moreso than he was as a candidate. He does listen rather intently to Aivey's remarks, his brows drawing together to put a crease above his nose. "I'm still not real clear on the whole subject, to tell you the truth. About Igen's eggs or 'our' eggs or whatever." Complete with air-quotes and a disdainful tone. "You from here?"
"Well...the way folks are talking, Igen isn't very much liked, what with how that woman went and stole the.. don't know the word for it, but she stole somethin' and most folks are taking too kindly to that. And then that other fellow, J'cor I think his name is... he went and took what should've been someone elses spot. It's kinda like a game, 'cept they went and cheated." Aivey delivers this as she thinks through it, complete with a few puzzled frowns at the basket. N'tai isn't yet looked at, "So it's they're eggs that was on the sands, and they're from dragons that ain't from here which makes 'em Igen eggs and not our eggs." A pause for breath, "From here now, weren't always. Call this home though, so I figure I'm one of them the our's."
most folks are/most folks aren't (key difference!)
After a thoughtful pause, N'tai asks, "So that means the dragons aren't really 'ours' either?" Not that he seems at all perturbed by it-- in fact, perhaps a little intrigued. "How long've you been here? --Which is a roundabout way of asking how long a person's gotta live at one place before they start calling it home, I guess."
"Some folks might think that, yeah," Aivey says, pleased that she explained things right, "Can't say if they're right, just it's what they're thinkin'...at least how I'm hearing it." She finishes emptying out the largest basket and now looks at the two smaller ones, "Been here...well...been here since before them eggs was on the sands and a bit before that woman went and took the place over. How about you?"
N'tai says like that explains it, "Oh, not that long." He starts reckoning time, dropping one hand from the end of his towel and tapping the ends of his fingers with the ends of his thumbs. "Since right around the time the eggs were laid, really. So however many months that is. It wasn't winter any more, I know that for sure. --Where'd you come from?"
"Right. Weren't that long ago," Aivey says amicably, now studying N'tai like he were kin, "Funny we didn't come in together or see one 'nother 'till now, ain't it?" She eases off her stool and starts dusting herself off, "Came from this little place. Small hold of sorts, ain't nothin' much to talk about. Here now and that's all that matters, yeah?" A half smile is directed toward N'tai.
Hitching his thumb toward the exit tunnel, N'tai explains, "I spent a lotta time out of the Weyr, actually. My family's traders, and the wagons are-- /were/ just down the road. Running ice. It's hard to explain." So he waves it off blandly. "I guess that's what matters? I dunno. I like hearing about where people're from. I've been a lotta places, really, and it's kind of like revisiting."
"Weren't never where I'm from," Aivey says with certainty, "Don' even think its around no more, make it right hard to visit if it ain't there." She takes a step toward the heaviest looking basket then looks back to N'tai, "Didn't mean to keep you from your bath, sir, you's got lots to take care of I imagine, and it ain't right to hold you up." A dismissal, in other words, mostly to suit his needs for all that Aivey seems quite concerned with them.
With a chuckle, "I was obviously fishing for a little company." N'tai takes the hinted dismissal, though, nodding pleasantly to the young woman as he skirts his way around the edge of the room. "Nice talking to you," he adds honestly, not in that 'I'm just saying it to be polite' way that a lot of people will toss out at the end of a conversation. At that, he does in fact head off to the baths.