[Log] Life Plans
Who: Jenna, Nicomerik, Reighley
When: Day 6, Month 2, Turn 8
Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr
What: Reighley meets Nicomerik and debates her future plans with him and Jenna.
Fort Weyr Living Cavern
Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize.
Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr.
To the east, a short flight of stairs leads to the hallway to the inner caverns. A stout door to the north has a healer's emblem on it, marking the Infirmary. To the south is a wide tunnel, leading out of the Weyr, and a wide opening to the west leads to the Weyr bowl.
Contents:
Nicomerik
Buffet Table
Meg and Peg
Fort Weyr Firelizard Perch
Obvious exits:
Bowl INFirmary Inner Caverns Tunnel Kitchen
Nicomerik
A chiseled physique and sculpted visage are the basic makeup of a brunet adonis who epitomizes tall, dark and handsome. His dark coloring is replete with ebony hair, mahogany eyes and caramel-amber skin. Although he has broad shoulders and strong arms, this young man is neither bulky nor unwieldy. He has a flat stomach, slender waist and muscular legs. The lines of his form are long but purposeful. He is a paradigm of youthful health.
Nature and life have molded strong features into the lineament of agrarian virtue: stalwart and stolid, angular and agreeable. Molded lines and a strong jaw display character built from a life of hard work. The thick but clean brow line is pensive above large, dark mahogany eyes. An aquiline nose adds a point of imperfection (or perhaps character), arching a bit too high when in profile. Few lines mar the skin along his firm, pink lips: it seems he is not one to display smiles or emotions. It cannot be said that his usual expression is a frown, but instead that he is unflappably composed. Adolescence has left his skin unmarked, but life in the South Boll sun has not.
Drab hues drape across his sinewy frame. He wears an olive green tunic with dark brown pants. Work boots, scuffed but serviceable, adorn his feet.
Reighley
Reighley's little more than a girl, about 5'2" and slender, with some 11 turns to her name. Still left with a slim, childlike frame, she's only beginning to enter that period of coltish adolescence. Her dark blonde hair reaches her mid-back with a natural wave; she usually keeps it clipped out of her big green eyes, or braids it out of the way. Reighley has pert pink lips, and her nose is ski-jumped, dusted with a spray of pale freckles that spread across her cheeks as well.
Reighley's face might seem girly, but her clothes protest that description. Pants always have scuffed knees and patches; shorts and short sleeves reveal the marks of an active, or particularly clumsy, lifestyle. Her clothes are rarely new, probably for the better, but someone takes care to mend them well. Dresses are a rarity for Reighley, reserved for special occasion. When she has her hair braided, the ribbons holding the braids are usually trailing, the braids themselves unraveling slowly.
With melting snow clinging to her boots, Reighley tramps into the living cavern and dusts herself off, shrugging carefully out of her coat. She leaves it in one of the empty chairs she passes by to save herself a seat as she heads on toward the serving tables. There, she fills a plate with dinner and then moves down the line to fill herself a drink. When she finishes, she carefully balances the plate on one hand and cup in the other, taking a couple of slow steps toward her chair, and pausing again when the liquid threatens to spill.
"Careful, there," comes the gentle baritone belonging to Nicomerik; the sound is just audible over the cavern's din. It takes him a moment, but he finally does offer some small semblance of a smile; what isn't readable from his lips is there in his eyes. Nico sits by himself, his coat on the back of his chair, his scarf still about his neck and gloves off to the left of his bowl. He nods his head to her, and then lifts a spoonful of stew up to his lips, slurping quietly on it.
Reighley, biting her lower lip as she stares at the food and drink, cuts her eyes upward as she hears Nicomerik, blinking at him and offering a hesitant smile. She takes a few more steps, pauses to let the sloshings and rollings settle down again, and then continues with the slow steps until she reaches that table. "Um. Thanks. Hi," she greets Nicomerik slowly. "Is anybody sitting here?"
Nico swallows and sets down his spoon before shaking his head. "'sides me? Nope. Don't know many people here," he says, remarkably candid about and undeterred by that self-revelation. There's a slight drawl in his speech that hints at his not being a Fort Weyr native. He motions her towards any of the seats opposite him and tries once more at a smile, "Feel free to sit. Could use the company."
"All right," says Reighley, nodding and settling down in the chair. She arranges her meal in front of her carefully and starts clumsily cutting up a slice of herdbeast before glancing over to Nicomerik again. "My name's Reighley," she offers after a moment. "You're from somewhere else? Or just... sorry," the girl cuts off what might be a rude question.
"M-hm," intones Nicomerik with a nod at the question, but a real smile finally does find its way onto his lips, "from Boll. Family's farmcraft from generations back. Nicomerik's my name, by the way." He pauses and purses his lips, considering what he's just said, "Well, 'most everybody just calls me Nico, which you're welcome to do. Nice to meet you, Reighley." He dips up and eats a spoonful of stew.
"Nico," Reighley tests out the name, smiling slightly. "I've never been to Boll. What's it like? How come you came here?" she questions the man curiously, tilting her head. She finishes cutting and starts eating, doing her best to look mannerly.
"It's a lot warmer than here and more laid back than most places," is Nico's immediate response to Reighley's first question. The answer to the second, however, takes some time for him formulate. He absently stirs his stew about as he considers his words, chewing on his lower lip, and finally responds with "Decided not to go into the family business."
Like any curious youngster, Reighley has a nose for stories, and at Nicomerik's response she tilts her head promptingly. "Really? What was that?" she pries, pausing her eating to look at him. Idly, she pokes the fork at an unappetizing piece of vegetable, most of her attention on the young man beside her.
Jenna comes up the steps from the Inner Caverns.
Jenna has arrived.
Jenna
At first glance, this slight figure might be taken for a lad. However, turns of dragonriding have begun to take their toll on Jenna. Platinum blonde hair is cropped close to her face in a servicable bob which spends most of its time tucked back behind ears or mussed from riding helmet. Startlingly blue eyes peer out from a face that is all plains and angles - a sharp nose, pointed chin, and cheekbones jut in bas-relief across this rocky landscape - and are surrounded by the early stages of crow's feet. Her frame is tall and lanky, no hint of roundness at all to soften it. On the contrary, muscles from hours spent a'dragonback seem to call attention to her height and utter lack of feminine softness. Whipcord thin, she at least seems comfortable with her austere form, for she moves without the gangliness one would assume of youth.
Jenna is dressed in comfortable tan trous which has a reinforced seat and knees in dark brown wherhide. A long sleeved tunic of indigo is pulled over it, the material plain and suitable for work. The neckline has been edged in jade ribbon in an attempt to put *some* feminine touches on this walking beanpole. A wherhide riding jacket made of warm, pale golden brown wherhide and thick with fleecy lining is usually found somewhere on her person and bears the patch of the queen's wing, and the emblem of Fort. Her feet are surprisingly bare, and do her no more credit than the rest of her frame. Sturdy and calloused, she seems quite comfortable with them bare, even on cold stone.
Jenna wears the triple loop of a Fort Weyr junior weyrwoman in black and brown around one shoulder, with a silver tassle and a strand of gold for her lifemate. There are also other small details about her, a handmade pendant and a ring. She looks to be somewhere near fourty turns.
Amusement tugs gently at one side of Nico's lips. Expressions, it seems, only appear in moderation on his face. "Farming sisal and flax and whatever else the weavers need," Nico tells her as he dips up another spoonful of stew. He slurps it up, chews and swallows, "I didn't find the work very interesting." Amusement, this time wry, tugs on his lips.
Reighley is seated beside Nicomerik, the pair both eating their dinners. "That sounds interesting to me," the girl notes dubiously, watching him. "I mean, I've never done it before." Which probably explains why she finds it interesting. "Did you make stuff with it, too, or just grow it? What does it look like before they make clothes out of it?"
Jenna comes up from the caverns, absently brushing dust off her clothes. Someone's either been in stores or in the far reaches of the records room. She heads over to get a mug of juice and then looks for a place to sit. Spying Reighley she moves in that direction, giving the girl and her companion a smile before asking, "This seat taken?"
Nico whistles at Reighley's barrage of questions, shaking his head and laughing lightly. "You ask a lot of questions. That's a good thing, though. We just grow what we're told," he says. He lets the spoon clatter against the side of the bowl as he sits back in his chair. Jenna's arrival distracts him for a moment - her shoulder knots not going unnoticed - and he motions for her to be seated, "No ma'am. You're welcome to sit there. I was about to explain to Reighley about plants grown in Boll."
Reighley glances around at the familiar sound of Jenna's voice, smile brightening. "Hi," she greets the goldrider happily. "No, it's not, is it, Nico? Go ahead," she says, sparing a brief glance for her companion's approval. "And, uh. I'm sorry? That's what my brother always says, too," she adds to the man. "He likes to act exasperated, but if I didn't, he'd ask them all himself, so."
Jenna drops into a chair, nodding politely at 'Nico'. "Well, you never learn anything if you don't ask questions. So you're from Boll originally?" She curls one foot under her, coiling her frame in the chair and seeming to snuggle down into the wood. "And please, my name's Jenna, not ma'am." A flash of a smile before she takes a drink from her mug.
Nico looks back to Reighley and again a genuine smile flashes across his mouth for a fleeting second. "Nothing wrong with questions." He clears his throat and looks over at Jenna, "Yes'm, Jenna it is then, and yes, I'm from Boll." He glances back at Reighley. "Flax is just like any old plant, but it's got blue flowers, shaped sort of like this from the side," he pauses, sitting up, and making a fan shape with his hands. His gaze occasionally flickers towards Jenna to include her, "It has five petals. You made the fibers from the stalks. Sisal's sort of spiky. It's brown and sort of barky at the bottom. The leaves are green and come out of the top in blades that are about as long as a man is tall."
Reighley nods at Nicomerik's description, eyes wide with interest. "It sounds pretty, or the flowers do, anyway. I'd like to see it, I think. Do we have anything like that here, or is that only a Boll thing?" she asks, looking to Jenna as their Fortian expert.
Jenna uhs, stuck for a moment. Clearly she knows next to nothing about plants. "Well, Boll's pretty much the expert on sisal. Flax, I'm not really sure of."
Nico considers that question for a moment as he picks up his spoon and stirs his rapidly cooling stew. "Hm, I think flax could grow here, but it's mainly just grown in Boll," he says thoughtfully, and then nods slowly. "Yes, it could grow here. I don't think people generally grow it here, but it could grow." With that said, he eats a few spoonfuls of stew, his gaze intent on his supper rather than on his company.
Reighley eyes Jenna, grin broadening at the woman's uncertainty. "Really?" she questions, glancing between the pair. Her meal's almost forgotten in front of her; she doesn't pick up her fork again until Nicomerik starts eating as well. "That might be fun to try, maybe? When it gets warmer again. Somebody said that they can grow things year-round at Ista because it's /always/ hot. I can't imagine that, can you?"
Jenna weighs in. "Ista's always hot, yes." That much she knows. "And rainy." She diverts attention from more than that, asking Nico, "So, you worked in the fields at Boll? Or did you apprentice with the farmcrafters? How'd you end up here at Fort?"
"Really," says Nico, glancing up to look at Reighley and nodding. Although amusement doesn't touch his lips, there's a spark in his eyes that belies his impassive exterior. He eats another spoonful of stew before setting the spoon aside. His gaze shifts to Jenna as she explains Ista's climate. He rubs at the corner of his mouth before replying to her question, "I worked the fields - family's farmcraft from way back. My father wished I would apprentice, but ah ... I decided to find work elsewhere."
Reighley wrinkles her nose. "I don't like the rain much," she admits, shaking her head. And, to Nicomerik, again she has a question ready: "What were you thinking about apprenticing to?"
Jenna sips her drink. Far easier to let the kid do her dirty work. Blue eyes flicker back to Nico, head tilted slightly to hear the answer.
Nico's dark eyes flicker between Jenna to Reighley. He chews on his lower lip before replying quietly, "Well, I hadn't thought 'bout it." A soft shrug follows the candid statement.
Reighley wrinkles her nose, faintly disappointed in Nicomerik's answer. She prods at a hunk of meat still on her plate before noting thoughtfully, "I've been thinking, maybe I should. Except, well. I don't know what I'd like to do, either, so. P'draig, my friend P'draig, said he was a baker, you know. That would be fun, except I can't cook or anything."
Jenna mms. "Well, Reighley you're.. what? Twelve? You've still got a bit of time. And I think Master Dendra teaches people *how* to bake, if they don't already. And," she pauses, looking at Nico. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
Nico nods slowly as he listens to Reighley, but his answer is merely the diplomatic, "There's plenty of options." He glances over at Jenna and listens, nodding at her statements about apprenticing. At Jenna's question to him, however, he blushes just slightly. "Nicomerik, um, Nico."
"Eleven," admits Reighley sheepishly. Quickly, she adds, "And two thirds," as though that were much of an improvement. "Do you really think I could learn? Maybe I /could/ apprentice to that. Maybe I'll ask P'draig about it," the girl muses.
Jenna ahs. "Well, um, Nico, what are you interested in?" Her expression is so deadpan it's hard to tell if she's teasing him or not. "And Reighley, if you like, I could put in a word with Master Dendra?"
"Anything that's not farming," says Nico with a weak smile. He glances down at his food and again stirs at the now cold stew, "I'm just helping with upkeep around the Weyr right now."
Reighley hesitates. "Um. Well. I don't know," she waffles when the question's put to her. "I... I'm really not sure yet, but I'm going to think about it. Would you later, if I decide that I really want to do that?" she queries.
Jenna nods to Reighley. "Of course I would." A sip of her drink is taken and she looks at Nico appraisingly. "Well, do you want to do more than that? You don't have to, you know. It's a full time job just keeping a weyr running."
Jenna cocks her head, eyes going distant. Grumbling, she gets up. "Why she needs to see me /right now/ is beyond me. Excuse me you two."
Jenna has left.
Nico glances up and offers Jenna a smile at the question, but he shakes his head. "No, I'm fine with what I'm doing now," he says, but then he clears his throat. At her quick departure, he shifts uncomfortably in his chair and then glances over at Reighley, "Is there anything you like to do?"
Reighley beams at Jenna. "Thank you," she tells the goldrider, and then: "Good night. Say hi to Niyath for me." She watches the woman exit before glancing back to Nicomerik. She frowns thoughtfully. "Uh... Play?" she suggests after a moment--probably not the answer he was looking for.
No, that wasn't answer Nicomerik was looking for. He stares at her, blinking rapidly, and then has the good grace to chuckle softly. "I guess that, uh, that's understandable," he says, finally setting down the spoon. "But, is there anything you're, hmm, interested in?"
Reighley ponders that several seconds, tapping her chin with a finger idly. "I don't know. I mean, I've /thought/ about it, but I don't know. And I don't want to end up apprenticing to a craft that I really don't like," she explains.
"Understandable." Nico nods twice and for a few moments afterward is silent in thought. "Well, there's the farmers and the bakers, and then you have weavers, healers, herders and harpers," he pauses here to consider, "miners, vintners, smiths, and seacrafters. I think that's it. There's also plenty you can do without crafting."
"Like you do?" wonders Reighley. "Or I could be a healer. Or, oh, a herder! Except, oh, no. I don't like--well, runners are scary," confesses the girl, wrinkling her nose. "They're really big. And... Oh, I don't know at all. I'm not old enough to grow up yet!"
Nico hangs his head, glancing down at his cold stew, to conceal the faint hints of a smile on his mouth. It wouldn't do to be amused just then. He clears his throat, those hints disappearing, and glances back up. He tries to be reassuring, "No one says you have to choose now. Anyone who does ain't got the sense they were born with."
Reighley's eyes narrow slightly at Nicomerik's looking away, as though she senses his amusement on her behalf. Still, though, she has a grin at the ready, nodding. "Oh, right. Good idea. I need to th--oh, no." She breaks off and slips down in her seat as she sees a middle-aged woman step into the cavern from the kitchens. "That's my aunt. I got to go--she'll be looking for me. Bye, Nico," she tells the man as she gets up and heads over to meet the woman.