A dapper dab of soap
Who: W'ton and R'uen
Where: The kitchen
When: Lunchtime on day 17, month 6, turn 19
What: Two men of fine dress meet up over one's stains and discuss a weyrleader's work and the Drama of hold life.
One of the hazards of being snappily dressed is that it's no little matter when you drop food on yourself during a meal. The offending item itself is nowhere to be see, but the brownish spots on R'uen's shirt and trousers attest that it once made a very unwelcome escape from his fork or mouth or whatever it was. Now the weyrleader is standing in the kitchen, worrying over the stains with a damp cloth and a bit of dish soap.
The perils of having a keen fashion sense! Thankfully W'ton's clothes are spiffy, but he also doesn't seem to have eaten yet. Sauntering in from the living cavern he looks around for someone and his eyes pass over R'uen along the way. Whatever task he was on, either for himself or someone else, he abandons it to head to the sink and soapy water. "Looks like trouble, sir, if I might say so," is his greeting followed by a charming smile and a gesture to the stains. "Anything I can do to be of assistance?"
"You don't happen to be an experienced laundress with magic powers of stain removal?" R'uen asks without looking up. He's managed to make one spot rather frothy with the soap - maybe it's fading a bit. "I hope it doesn't really stain. Cirse would probably kill me for wasting fabric." A concern he doesn't seem to share. But finally he glances up to see who he's talking to. "Ah, W'ton. How are things?"
"I am afraid I've no magical powers, but I do know a laundress who works wonders on stains," W'ton offers with a chuckle. There's a wink for the other man when he looks up as the weyrling adds, "She does owe me a favor or two still. Not that you need my help I imagine, but if need help with those just ask for Betti." With business out of the way he leans against the sink, careful of any water so as not to mess up his clothes. "Things are fine, sir, thank you for asking. I hope things are going well for you?" As well as they can anyway his voice seems to say.
R'uen's focus is down again, trying to get that next spot to turn white with suds. "You're suppose to wash them right away, yeah? So the stains don't set?" Oh, pretty clothes are such trouble to maintain. "Betti. I'll remember that." Scrub scrub, blot blot. And then the touch of something in W'ton's voice has the Weyrleader lifting his glance again, and cocking a curious brow too.
W'ton's nod is not seen since the recipient of it is looking down so he thinks to add, "Yes, sir. Right away." Since the laundress' name has been passed on and repeated she is allowed to leave the conversation. Alas she'd be so sad to know she was so easily dismissed. When eyes are on him again the weyrling grins and his shoulders shrug. "Busy all the time," he says as one arm gestures around. "Must make it hard on a man and then with the hassle of the fabric problem."
"Busy," R'uen agrees with an easy bob of his head. "But not -so- busy. It's not a scramble or anything. And really, there isn't much for me to do about the fabric problems. I don't grow fibers, I don't keep the records, I don't handle tithes. I just.. keep my ears open, ask the riders to do the same. Hopefully this season will be better and the delivery mix ups won't happen again." If that's really all it ever was. With the second spot on his shirt now soapy, he bends to continue the process on his trousers. "Generally, things are good. Wings are well, weyrlings in training. No catastrophes."
With a stretch W'ton can just reach a table to rap on it once with his knuckles at that last statement. "Don't go inviting trouble," he warns with a teasing grin meant to make light of his superstitious wood knocking. "Always a catastrophe around the bend, sir and best we just let it sit there. But tell me then how does a weyrleader spend his time? If you're not so busy as all that. I guess I always thought of it more like a holder running things and always having one more thing to do before the day is done. My father never did seem to rest so long as there was daylight." Back to leaning against the sink he's got a grin for one of the matronly cooks who passes by with a tray full of sandwiches. For his grin she lingers long enough for him to snag one.
"Probably true," R'uen laughs for that, pausing his scrubbing to bump a knuckle the cabinet next to him. There, the wood spirits of luck have been appeased. "How do I spend my time... Schedules to make, keep everything rotating so people don't get... bored." He makes a bit of a face that might say rotations are enough to waylay that particular reaction. "Drills as usual. I fly with some of the other wings now and then, just to see how things are going. Not the whole thing, just a bit. Reports, logs and such. It's a lot of checking in, really. Maintaining. But I don't need to do all of it every minute of every day," he adds with a shrug. His grin quirks. "I guess I pace myself." He watches the tray of sandwiches go by, but his hands are busy and he doesn't look terribly interested in the food.
"It all comes back to hidework in the end always I think, sir." W'ton grimaces at this and adds, "Which is dull as anything I suppose when its the same stuff over and over." Then he must, simply must, take a bite of his sandwich and admire the beauty of prepared food for a bit. When he can speak again he says, "What about traveling? Going out to visit the holds? Wave the flag? Or is that someone else's job?" Stopping there with the questions he grins. "I don't mean to pester, sir, but it's just nice to not be having to think about my own work for a bit. Suppose the opposite is true for you, huh? Let us change the subject then?"
"Nope, I do that. Well, everyone does that, really. Sweeps and watches, but I go too. Again, it's not something I do every day. They'd probably get sick of my face. 'Here's the Weyrleader again...'" He guesses with a wearied smirk put on for show. But for the offer to change subjects, he shakes his head. A thoughtful frown in thrown in, mostly for his stained trouser. "I don't mind. Really, this is what I do. Talking to people." That smirk returns, this time for W'ton.
In return for the smirk he gets a low chuckle. "Well, sure, but now I'm reminded of when my tutor made me interview people for an essay on Hold Structure and the Role of Everyone." W'ton grimaces in memory of the paper and finishes off his sandwich. "Guess," he says when done and fingers have been rinsed in the convenient sink nearby, "It's just a nice change from talking about how I am doing, sir. Everyone wants to know how Dasarth and I are getting along and I swear I've run out of ways to say everything's going fine. I don't know you well enough to ask about your personal life so I settled on your work."
That grimace is met with a bit of sympathy, agreement. Dull dull dull. "Aren't you glad then, that I didn't press about you and Dasarth? And now, even without pressing, I know enough to not have to ask anyway. Everything is fine." R'uen's smile gets cheeky with that and then fades again with his attention turning to his clothes once more. "Work, personal life... it's all a bit intertwined anyway. My family is at the woodcraft, so I'm there a good bit. Tiriana's at Reaches, obviously. Does this look like it's any lighter?" he asks then, righting himself from his pant-blotting to displace the whole getup, the relative neatness of stains now turned into large wet blotches.
"Huh. Family. Suppose I should go see mine when I can. If only to give em a hard time." W'ton scratches his cheek as he considers this option and whatever his decision he doesn't share. "Well, sir, I suppose too you can find out easy enough how things are going for any of us from the weyrlingmaster. We're likely mostly to complain horribly or go on about things being great. Even if neither's the truth. Nature of people I guess." Lots of guesses and supposes before he studies the stains and then shakes his head. "Think it looks lighter, but it might just be the water making the rest of it look darker, sir. Hate to hazard a guess on something as important as a man's wardrobe."
"A bit lighter." R'uen is still a touch distracted by this very important task of spot-cleaning. But he hasn't forgotten the rest of the conversation. "Where's your family at? Your father is... " Since W'ton's dad has come up a touch. "Yeah, I get the broad strokes from the Weyrlingmaster, but it doesn't mean I'm not interested in the details, getting to know my riders better." He shrug, pokes at the stains a bit more and the settles his weight back against the cabinets.
For mention of his father there's a light shrug from W'ton. "Ah, Two Trees, sir. Small hold down by Southern Boll. Not much of it to mention really. Right now I imagine he's trying to tear his hair up to get my brother to keep a thought in his head so he can not run the place into the ground when he takes over." It's all very dismissive really the talk of his family. Like they're of no consequence. "Although I suppose if it were still going to be mine I'd not be calling it so small," He does admit with a chuckle. "How our perspective changes, eh, sir?" Again he glances at the stains, but since he has no further observation he gives instead, "Ah. Details then, sir, are that Dasarth is a right pain in the behind already trying to boss around most anyone he meets. Doesn't have a charming bone in his body the poor fellow."
"Two Trees. Yes." Presumably R'uen would know such a place, being part of his responsibility and all, so he drops his head in a nod. "He must be pretty frustrated, if he spent all this time training you up only to have us steal you away." There's a grin for that, but also that curious brow raised again to check if his assumption is correct. And for Dasarth: "Is he dealing with lessons all right? You know, the part where he gets bossed around a bit?"
W'ton's laugh is not loud enough to be heard too far in the kitchen, but it is loud and his eyes sparkle as he says after, "Oh, I wasn't stolen away, sir. I was kicked out about three turns or so ago. So, if he's bemoaning his existence now I think that's all his own fault. His and my former betrothed's family. Her and I had no issues, but were not consulted." There's a thoughtful pause as he adds, "Not that it broke my heart not having to marry her and all. Nice enough girl. Poor thing got saddled with my brother, but I suppose she'll be happy enough running things in his name. And him being too stupid to catch on to her own extracurricular activities." The sordid life of a holder! "Oh, he doesn't speak out during lessons. He's keen on learning, sir. He'll only question em one on one at the end if he needs to. Got a strict idea of rank and all and our instructors do outrank him right now."
"Ah ha! Well, at least I'm cleared on that count," R'uen laughs richly, rubbing a hand across the scruff of his jaw. He's got a big scabbed-up gash on the side of that hand, not particularly new or notable, but there. "Sounds like things back home are pretty... exciting," that chuckle still lingering. "They know about Dasarth? Or is he going to be a surprise for them when you get around to swinging by?"
"Wrote them a letter, sir," W'ton says with a faint smile and nod. "Not that I got a reply. I suppose my brother's thankful although he ought to be careful since no matter the situation of his birth I do have a son." Shoulders shrug as he examines his clean fingernails. "Although I imagine he's safe enough since the boy's mother isn't too keen on me and all. Ah, but, yes, sir. Always exciting when you're not living there day in and day out. Was pretty happy to be moving on. Will be nice to see it again and know I can go back without looking like my hat's in my hand." One hand rubs over his stubbly bald head as he says, "Hats do hide my hair so I am forever without one." Before he can say much else his stomach rumbles and he gives the other man a sheepish grin. Well, he hasn't had but one sandwich after all.
A brow goes up for all that politicking in one little hold and the easy way W'ton lays it all out. R'uen laughs again, shakes his head for the lot of it. And then, "What hair?" he snorts good-naturedly, shifting his weight from against the cabinets to stand again. "I should be getting this stuff to the laundresses while everything is still wet. Betti, you said?"
"I did indeed say Betti," W'ton answers and touches his head again with a wink. "The ladies love it like this, sir," he confides with an easy chuckle. Then he straightens as well and nods his head. "I shall go then and lay the charm on a certain young lady who insists on hitting much too hard in self-defense lessons to go easy on me this time for the sake of our future together. It was a pleasure speaking with you, sir. I hope those stains come out and you can break up the tedium of your hidework soon without it being some unpleasant emergency."
R'uen tosses the weyrling a light salute, more in fun than in duty. "I'll manage," he assures. "Go charm the girls." With that he's off to take care of his precious clothes.
Where: The kitchen
When: Lunchtime on day 17, month 6, turn 19
What: Two men of fine dress meet up over one's stains and discuss a weyrleader's work and the Drama of hold life.
One of the hazards of being snappily dressed is that it's no little matter when you drop food on yourself during a meal. The offending item itself is nowhere to be see, but the brownish spots on R'uen's shirt and trousers attest that it once made a very unwelcome escape from his fork or mouth or whatever it was. Now the weyrleader is standing in the kitchen, worrying over the stains with a damp cloth and a bit of dish soap.
The perils of having a keen fashion sense! Thankfully W'ton's clothes are spiffy, but he also doesn't seem to have eaten yet. Sauntering in from the living cavern he looks around for someone and his eyes pass over R'uen along the way. Whatever task he was on, either for himself or someone else, he abandons it to head to the sink and soapy water. "Looks like trouble, sir, if I might say so," is his greeting followed by a charming smile and a gesture to the stains. "Anything I can do to be of assistance?"
"You don't happen to be an experienced laundress with magic powers of stain removal?" R'uen asks without looking up. He's managed to make one spot rather frothy with the soap - maybe it's fading a bit. "I hope it doesn't really stain. Cirse would probably kill me for wasting fabric." A concern he doesn't seem to share. But finally he glances up to see who he's talking to. "Ah, W'ton. How are things?"
"I am afraid I've no magical powers, but I do know a laundress who works wonders on stains," W'ton offers with a chuckle. There's a wink for the other man when he looks up as the weyrling adds, "She does owe me a favor or two still. Not that you need my help I imagine, but if need help with those just ask for Betti." With business out of the way he leans against the sink, careful of any water so as not to mess up his clothes. "Things are fine, sir, thank you for asking. I hope things are going well for you?" As well as they can anyway his voice seems to say.
R'uen's focus is down again, trying to get that next spot to turn white with suds. "You're suppose to wash them right away, yeah? So the stains don't set?" Oh, pretty clothes are such trouble to maintain. "Betti. I'll remember that." Scrub scrub, blot blot. And then the touch of something in W'ton's voice has the Weyrleader lifting his glance again, and cocking a curious brow too.
W'ton's nod is not seen since the recipient of it is looking down so he thinks to add, "Yes, sir. Right away." Since the laundress' name has been passed on and repeated she is allowed to leave the conversation. Alas she'd be so sad to know she was so easily dismissed. When eyes are on him again the weyrling grins and his shoulders shrug. "Busy all the time," he says as one arm gestures around. "Must make it hard on a man and then with the hassle of the fabric problem."
"Busy," R'uen agrees with an easy bob of his head. "But not -so- busy. It's not a scramble or anything. And really, there isn't much for me to do about the fabric problems. I don't grow fibers, I don't keep the records, I don't handle tithes. I just.. keep my ears open, ask the riders to do the same. Hopefully this season will be better and the delivery mix ups won't happen again." If that's really all it ever was. With the second spot on his shirt now soapy, he bends to continue the process on his trousers. "Generally, things are good. Wings are well, weyrlings in training. No catastrophes."
With a stretch W'ton can just reach a table to rap on it once with his knuckles at that last statement. "Don't go inviting trouble," he warns with a teasing grin meant to make light of his superstitious wood knocking. "Always a catastrophe around the bend, sir and best we just let it sit there. But tell me then how does a weyrleader spend his time? If you're not so busy as all that. I guess I always thought of it more like a holder running things and always having one more thing to do before the day is done. My father never did seem to rest so long as there was daylight." Back to leaning against the sink he's got a grin for one of the matronly cooks who passes by with a tray full of sandwiches. For his grin she lingers long enough for him to snag one.
"Probably true," R'uen laughs for that, pausing his scrubbing to bump a knuckle the cabinet next to him. There, the wood spirits of luck have been appeased. "How do I spend my time... Schedules to make, keep everything rotating so people don't get... bored." He makes a bit of a face that might say rotations are enough to waylay that particular reaction. "Drills as usual. I fly with some of the other wings now and then, just to see how things are going. Not the whole thing, just a bit. Reports, logs and such. It's a lot of checking in, really. Maintaining. But I don't need to do all of it every minute of every day," he adds with a shrug. His grin quirks. "I guess I pace myself." He watches the tray of sandwiches go by, but his hands are busy and he doesn't look terribly interested in the food.
"It all comes back to hidework in the end always I think, sir." W'ton grimaces at this and adds, "Which is dull as anything I suppose when its the same stuff over and over." Then he must, simply must, take a bite of his sandwich and admire the beauty of prepared food for a bit. When he can speak again he says, "What about traveling? Going out to visit the holds? Wave the flag? Or is that someone else's job?" Stopping there with the questions he grins. "I don't mean to pester, sir, but it's just nice to not be having to think about my own work for a bit. Suppose the opposite is true for you, huh? Let us change the subject then?"
"Nope, I do that. Well, everyone does that, really. Sweeps and watches, but I go too. Again, it's not something I do every day. They'd probably get sick of my face. 'Here's the Weyrleader again...'" He guesses with a wearied smirk put on for show. But for the offer to change subjects, he shakes his head. A thoughtful frown in thrown in, mostly for his stained trouser. "I don't mind. Really, this is what I do. Talking to people." That smirk returns, this time for W'ton.
In return for the smirk he gets a low chuckle. "Well, sure, but now I'm reminded of when my tutor made me interview people for an essay on Hold Structure and the Role of Everyone." W'ton grimaces in memory of the paper and finishes off his sandwich. "Guess," he says when done and fingers have been rinsed in the convenient sink nearby, "It's just a nice change from talking about how I am doing, sir. Everyone wants to know how Dasarth and I are getting along and I swear I've run out of ways to say everything's going fine. I don't know you well enough to ask about your personal life so I settled on your work."
That grimace is met with a bit of sympathy, agreement. Dull dull dull. "Aren't you glad then, that I didn't press about you and Dasarth? And now, even without pressing, I know enough to not have to ask anyway. Everything is fine." R'uen's smile gets cheeky with that and then fades again with his attention turning to his clothes once more. "Work, personal life... it's all a bit intertwined anyway. My family is at the woodcraft, so I'm there a good bit. Tiriana's at Reaches, obviously. Does this look like it's any lighter?" he asks then, righting himself from his pant-blotting to displace the whole getup, the relative neatness of stains now turned into large wet blotches.
"Huh. Family. Suppose I should go see mine when I can. If only to give em a hard time." W'ton scratches his cheek as he considers this option and whatever his decision he doesn't share. "Well, sir, I suppose too you can find out easy enough how things are going for any of us from the weyrlingmaster. We're likely mostly to complain horribly or go on about things being great. Even if neither's the truth. Nature of people I guess." Lots of guesses and supposes before he studies the stains and then shakes his head. "Think it looks lighter, but it might just be the water making the rest of it look darker, sir. Hate to hazard a guess on something as important as a man's wardrobe."
"A bit lighter." R'uen is still a touch distracted by this very important task of spot-cleaning. But he hasn't forgotten the rest of the conversation. "Where's your family at? Your father is... " Since W'ton's dad has come up a touch. "Yeah, I get the broad strokes from the Weyrlingmaster, but it doesn't mean I'm not interested in the details, getting to know my riders better." He shrug, pokes at the stains a bit more and the settles his weight back against the cabinets.
For mention of his father there's a light shrug from W'ton. "Ah, Two Trees, sir. Small hold down by Southern Boll. Not much of it to mention really. Right now I imagine he's trying to tear his hair up to get my brother to keep a thought in his head so he can not run the place into the ground when he takes over." It's all very dismissive really the talk of his family. Like they're of no consequence. "Although I suppose if it were still going to be mine I'd not be calling it so small," He does admit with a chuckle. "How our perspective changes, eh, sir?" Again he glances at the stains, but since he has no further observation he gives instead, "Ah. Details then, sir, are that Dasarth is a right pain in the behind already trying to boss around most anyone he meets. Doesn't have a charming bone in his body the poor fellow."
"Two Trees. Yes." Presumably R'uen would know such a place, being part of his responsibility and all, so he drops his head in a nod. "He must be pretty frustrated, if he spent all this time training you up only to have us steal you away." There's a grin for that, but also that curious brow raised again to check if his assumption is correct. And for Dasarth: "Is he dealing with lessons all right? You know, the part where he gets bossed around a bit?"
W'ton's laugh is not loud enough to be heard too far in the kitchen, but it is loud and his eyes sparkle as he says after, "Oh, I wasn't stolen away, sir. I was kicked out about three turns or so ago. So, if he's bemoaning his existence now I think that's all his own fault. His and my former betrothed's family. Her and I had no issues, but were not consulted." There's a thoughtful pause as he adds, "Not that it broke my heart not having to marry her and all. Nice enough girl. Poor thing got saddled with my brother, but I suppose she'll be happy enough running things in his name. And him being too stupid to catch on to her own extracurricular activities." The sordid life of a holder! "Oh, he doesn't speak out during lessons. He's keen on learning, sir. He'll only question em one on one at the end if he needs to. Got a strict idea of rank and all and our instructors do outrank him right now."
"Ah ha! Well, at least I'm cleared on that count," R'uen laughs richly, rubbing a hand across the scruff of his jaw. He's got a big scabbed-up gash on the side of that hand, not particularly new or notable, but there. "Sounds like things back home are pretty... exciting," that chuckle still lingering. "They know about Dasarth? Or is he going to be a surprise for them when you get around to swinging by?"
"Wrote them a letter, sir," W'ton says with a faint smile and nod. "Not that I got a reply. I suppose my brother's thankful although he ought to be careful since no matter the situation of his birth I do have a son." Shoulders shrug as he examines his clean fingernails. "Although I imagine he's safe enough since the boy's mother isn't too keen on me and all. Ah, but, yes, sir. Always exciting when you're not living there day in and day out. Was pretty happy to be moving on. Will be nice to see it again and know I can go back without looking like my hat's in my hand." One hand rubs over his stubbly bald head as he says, "Hats do hide my hair so I am forever without one." Before he can say much else his stomach rumbles and he gives the other man a sheepish grin. Well, he hasn't had but one sandwich after all.
A brow goes up for all that politicking in one little hold and the easy way W'ton lays it all out. R'uen laughs again, shakes his head for the lot of it. And then, "What hair?" he snorts good-naturedly, shifting his weight from against the cabinets to stand again. "I should be getting this stuff to the laundresses while everything is still wet. Betti, you said?"
"I did indeed say Betti," W'ton answers and touches his head again with a wink. "The ladies love it like this, sir," he confides with an easy chuckle. Then he straightens as well and nods his head. "I shall go then and lay the charm on a certain young lady who insists on hitting much too hard in self-defense lessons to go easy on me this time for the sake of our future together. It was a pleasure speaking with you, sir. I hope those stains come out and you can break up the tedium of your hidework soon without it being some unpleasant emergency."
R'uen tosses the weyrling a light salute, more in fun than in duty. "I'll manage," he assures. "Go charm the girls." With that he's off to take care of his precious clothes.