[Log] Playing Pastry Chef
Who: F'niah, Jenna, Memily, Nananthia, P'draig, Reighley, T'aren
When: Day 31, Month 2, Turn 8
Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr
What: Reighley serves her homemade pastries in the living cavern, with interesting results.
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:
P'draig
Memily
T'aren
F'niah
Nananthia
Jenna
Buffet Table
Meg and Peg
Fort Weyr Firelizard Perch
Obvious exits:
Bowl INFirmary Inner Caverns Tunnel Kitchen
P'draig
Dark hair curls, finger-length, atop this young man's head above a face composed of strong features. Evenly spaced eyes the color of water on a cloudy day are overarched with thick, dark brows and set above a straight nose, generous mouth and strong jaw. Tall at just an inch or two above six feet, his build shows proof of strength through shoulders and arms. Telltale scars that look like old burns and cuts on his hands and arms speak of time formerly spent working in a kitchen. Though long of limb, his physique is well-balanced, neither wiry or muscle-bound. All told he appears to be in his early twenties.
Riding pants and jacket make up Paddy's clothing, warm brown in shade, and lined with ovine fleece. Under these is a seagreen shirt of simple cut, that nevertheless suits the young man well and brings out the blue in his eyes. The knot of a Fort Weyr brownrider hangs from his right shoulder.
Memily
Memily is an all-around plain girl. Her hair is a mousey hue of brown and just touches her shoulders, where it bunches in tight ringlet curls. Her ears stick out a bit too much, ringed with a halo of frizzy hair. A rather unremarkable shade of green marks her eyes. Memily is thin, lanky, and as straight as a pole. With rather unremarkable features, she makes up for it in her clothes. An ornate purple gown covers her frame. The sleeves are puffy, stopping just down her upper arms. Stitching in gold runs across the dress in swirls and patterns that are suggestive of flowering vines. Soft, purple-dyed leather shoes peek out from beneath the dress, a few decorative buttons adding to the gaudiness of the ensemble. She appears to be roughly 18 Turns, 3 months, and 18 days old.
T'aren
At an age of 18 Turns, 1 months, and 15 days old, this fair-skinned young man stands at a height of about five feet, ten inches tall, and doubtlessly is still growing. Slight muscles are grafted to a wiry, lanky frame with sloping shoulders and thin midsection. This lad's head is topped with a shock of mousy brown hair that just barely covers his ears - falling this way and that in an unruly array. Broad forehead spans the space between hairline and arched brown brows. His eyes are an unremarkable shade of hazel - green and brown interlacing to form the color. Nose is straight though a smidge on the large side. His lips, like the rest of him, are nothing special - neither full nor thin. Jaw line is strong, dimpling a very slight bit on his chin. On his shoulder is the knot of a Wingrider at Fort Weyr, the badge of Stormshadow Wing on his shoulder.
Today, Trusaren is dressed in a pair of brown trousers, scuffed with dirt and tears around the bottom edges. His tunic is a faded shade of green, something that's likely a hand-me-down from one source or another. The make of the ensemble is simple and without ornament. A leather belt is secured about his waist, and a pair of thick brown wherhide boots are on his feet.
F'niah
Layers of lean muscle soften this man's six-foot two-inch frame. Though wide shoulders skim to trim hips, and down through athletically-toned legs, it's his hands that catch attention: overlarge like puppy paws. Silky bronze-brown hair has been cut knuckle-long all over his head. Eyes of muted green appraise the world from over an aquiline nose. A decidedly lantern jaw ends his not-unpleasant face, but the finishing touch is an air of near-constant alarm that bodes ill for breakables. Sef has the sort of face that ages well, though he's probably between 33 and 38 Turns.
Undyed cotton and wool have been worked together into a bulky sweater, marled khaki and white sprinkled with darker brown. Folded collar tucks just under his chin, while sleeves reach to the base of his thumb, and hem hangs past his hips: all suggesting that this garment was made for someone quite a bit more muscular. Tough black-brown wherhide makes up his trous, color and hide alike softened at seat and knee. Newer boots complete the look; wax hardened wherhide make them waterproof.
Nananthia
Dark green eyes, a forresty pine color are framed by dark lush lashes. This may be your first impression of Nananthia. Then you may note the graceful wings of her dark brows and her full lips and small nose in her heart shaped face. Her hair consists of long ebony tresses, save for two streaks of silver at her temples. Her body has finally come into it's full feminine glory, although she'll never be as amply endowed as other women. Over the turns she's topped out at 6'2" in height and her hair is usually tied with a red ribbon, pulled into a runnertail that hangs down her back.
She's dressed in a Pernese version of overalls, simply sown, the fabric a heavy sturdy material. It has pockets on the bib as well as on the legs, and a couple of loops at the hip and on the legs to hold tools. The clasps are carved out of wood rather than metal and decorated with an impression of the Fort Weyr crest. The fabric has been dyed in shades of green and brown, like camouflage that's both practical and useful. Her shirt is of a tan color with green embroidery of vines across the yoke. Her wherhide boots are a sturdy black, but with all the running around she does they are more brown than black.
She wears the knot of a Fort Weyr Assistant Headwoman with the typical one loop under her arm, with a string; the brown and black knot. She looks a little younger than her 32 Turns, 3 months, and 6 days old.
Jenna
The first thing usually noticed about Jenna is the cloud of platinum blonde hair that streams down past her shoulders. Stick straight, the front is usually pulled back out of her eyes, confined in braids and pinned at the crown of her head. 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.
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 forty turns.
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.
T'aren catches the bluerider formerly in his company making his way towards the goldrider, and rather than take his plate and take a place at a table, the young man moves non-chalantly towards the inner caverns. His escape is delayed by the attention of the Weyrlingmaster to him, "Ah-er, things are-- well. Yes, well. Ah--" There's a glance towards the group now with the weyrwoman. "Do excuse me. There's a project calling my name." And with that, he's disappearing deeper into the weyr.
Jenna mms at F'niah. "Welcome home." Is it colder outside than in? Hard to tell. Such a greeting for being gone for turns. "I hope you and Saneth are well? When did you arrive?" She gives P'draig a tight smile, before blue eyes flicker back to F'niah, gauging him. Then skitter away around her tablemates Nananthia and Memily. She does not, however, ask the bluerider to join them.
T'aren walks down the eastern stairs to the Inner Caverns.
T'aren has left.
Memily looks up from her plate at Nananthia. She swallows down her mouthful and says, "My work's going well, thank you, Ma'am. I've actually gotten a few requests for some alterations and embroidering." she smiles and sips from her cup again, following the juice by popping a tiny bit of roll into her mouth. Her eyes drift around to the others in the area as she chews happily.
F'niah drops Nanathia and Memily nods, the polite sort you'd give a stranger, but doesn't take his eyes off Jenna. "Just now. -Just- now," he repeats, stressing the time. "Saneth said he'd told someone, but... you remember him. We'll need a weyr, and T'aren's already asked which wing we'll be in."
"Huh," is P'draig's puzzled response as T'aren seems to flee the living cavern but he turns slightly and flashes Nananthia a grin. "Right. Make it an adventure. Let's see ..." he continues poking about the various pots keeping warm at the hearth, lifting a lid here and there and then lets out a delighted whoop. "Here it is! Hurrah!" promptly the rider pours out a steaming mug of what smells like spiced cider with a kick. For all he was talking about food earlier, he doesn't serve himself a plate. "So what's in the hides today, ladies?" he asks of Nananthia and nearby Memily, still jovial as he pauses by the hide-laden table on his way back to his seat. F'niah earns a brief, curious look from the young Weyrlingmaster and a polite nod along with it.
Exiting the kitchens with a tray in her hand, Reighley makes her careful way into the living caverns toward the serving table, a look of intense concentration on her face as she tries not to let any of the pastries on the tray tip off. It's a precarious journey, and half-way there she pauses to push a couple back away from the edge and also to glance around. When a couple of familiar faces are spotted in the gesture, she breaks into a grin and changes her course, heading toward Jenna and P'draig. "Look, I made pastries!" she says excitedly. "Would you like some?"
"Embroidering, yeah? That's really great!" Nan says to Memily cheerfully, although she eyes the interaction between the weyrwoman and the bluerider with no littel interest. She indicates the hides, "Jenna's doin' some inventory checks, what with the clothes and all. I'm just lending a hand."
Jenna eyes F'niah, lips pursing. Finally she says, "Niyath says that your old weyr is occupied. Has been for turns." Her tone is rather brusque, implying fault with the bluerider for being gone so long. "However, she also says that there is one above the lake that is empty. And is suitable for space, has a nice view of the feeding grounds and the lake as well. Do you need help unloading your things? We haven't any weyrlings at the moment, but -" She breaks off as Reighley gushes over, looking at the tray she carries. "Um, sure, Reighley. Oh, and for those you haven't met yet, Sef, this is P'draig, Memily, Reighley," she nods to each one in turn, and adds, "And you may not remember Nananthia? Everyone this is F'niah, Saneth's rider. We," her lips twist, indicating that it's an unfortunate occurance, "Impressed together."
Memily returns the head-bob politely to F'niah. She turns her attention back to her lunch then, taking a few small bites and chewing thoughtfully. She clears her mouth then and shrugs at P'draig's question, "Not sure, myself, Sir. I haven't looked at them." She turns back to the assistant headwoman then, "It is. I really enjoy it." nodding emphatically. Then her eyes turn to P'draig, "A pleasure, Sir." before she looks down at the hides on the table.
"Ahhh clothes," nods the brownrider wisely. "Not my specialty at all," he says matter-of-factly and then turns slightly at Reighley's approach. "Really? May I try one?" asks P'draig with sincere enthusiasm. His eyes are drawn away by Jenna's introductions and he shifts his mug from one hand to the other and extends his free one across the table to the bluerider. "Welcome back F'niah and well met."
"Over the lake will be fine, ma'am," F'niah answers, his hands swinging behind his back to clasp there. With an air of almost palpable relief he turns to the others in turn as they're introduced, adding a second then a third nod for Nanathia. "I thought I remembered you, but I couldn't place the name." No sweets for him, though he turns a considering eye on Jenna and the offered tray. A pause and he blurts out, "I'm not going to be Wingleader again. I don't care if P'ter begs this time."
With a small smile, Reighley glances to the unfamiliar people. "Um. Oh. Nice to meet you," she says politely, scooting her tray onto the edge of the table to balance it. "You can have some, too, if you want," adds the girl, gesturing to her pastries. Some of them are a little burnt around the edges, and others look a little doughy still in the center; but the young girl certainly seems proud of them as she scoots the tray closer. "Try them--I've never made anything before." Pause. "Sorry, though--I didn't mean to interrupt," is her belated apology as she glances around again.
Jenna nods slightly to Sef's first statement, and then shrugs at his second. "Tell him, not me," is her sharp response, and she looks to the tray of pastries, picking out one from the center. Likely one of the doughy ones. She pops it half in her mouth and. Um. Throat locks. She chews rapidly, giving Reighley an encouraging lips-closed-mouth-full smile and a thumbs up. Then the moment the girl's back is turned, she quickly washes it down with juice.
Memily bobs her head at Reighley and smiles, "Thank you." and she opts for one of the more doughy treats. She pulls off a bit at one side and puts the piece into her mouth, "They're very good." she says, even before she starts to chew. And then, "You weren't interrupting... I don't think." and she looks around at the others for confirmation. She sets the rest of the pastry down on the edge of her plate and takes a sip of juice. And another. And another. And finally her mouth is clear and she begins to eat the remainder of her lunch.
Nananthia treats F'niah to a dry smile, "No worries, F'niah. Wasn't sure iffen it were you, either." She smiles in Reighley's direction, "Likewise, well met, there, lass. I'll take one iffen ya don' mind." takes a pastry, one of those burnt ones and nibbles at it.
F'niah gives Reighly a smile which only starts out forced. "I'm sure they're fine. I'm not hungry, though. I ate lunch at Benden already." Jenna? What Jenna?
Reighley beams at Jenna. "Do you like it?" she asks quickly. And, to Memily: "Oh, thanks! One of the cooks helped me measure stuff and showed me how, but I made them myself, mostly." She takes one of her own creations then, a well-done one, and nibbles its edges after slipping into a seat. "Benden?" she catches F'niah's words and cocks her head. "You were at Benden today?"
Jenna mms at Reighley, eyebrows lifted and nodding. If you don't say anything, that's not lying, right? She palms the other half of the pastry and tries to discreetly offer it to Nan's firelizard. She ignores F'niah as thoroughly as F'niah ignores her, asking Memily, "So there's a whole stack of pants that 'snakes have eaten through - think you could mend them well enough that they could be wearable?"
Memily turns to look at Jenna then, "Well, it's possible, Ma'am." in her quiet voice, "It all depends on how much damage was done and what parts they ate through." Then she finishes off her food, and stacks her mug atop the empty plate. She stands up and turns to head back to the kitchens, "Excuse me." she says, softly, as she brushes her way past those assembled around the table. She passes the dirty dishes off to a dishwasher and heads back towards the table to sit down once more, adding, "Some of the other seamstresses and I could take a look and patch what we can, maybe?"
"So ya got a lot of stuff from where ya came from, 'niah?" Nan asks curiously, absently keeping an ear on Jenna and Memily's conversation. Kachina, on the other hand, doesn't seem the least bit interested in pastries.
F'niah sidles a step or two away from Jenna, careful not to look her way. He's looking at Reighly, see? "I was. I've been there the past seven or so turns." Eyes flick to Nananthia and he adds, voice light, "Oh, some. Enough. Saneth could carry it all, but I didn't bring anything really big with me. No furniture. I figured I'd get that out of stores."
Jenna nods to Memily, "That'd be wonderful. I'm not sure what's salvagable and what isn't. When it comes to sewing, if it's not leather, I don't know diddly about it." She waggles the pastry hopefully at Kachina, keeping it below the level of the table. C'mon, do a girl a favor. Pretent it's a big crawlie or something.
Reighley, glancing between Jenna and F'niah curiously, shrugs her thin shoulders and peers at the bluerider, entirely ignorant of Jenna's efforts to get rid of the rest of that pastry. "Seven /turns/? That's a really long time. Why were you there? How come you couldn't come home? This /is/ home, right--Fort?" She doesn't worry about the patchy pants.
Nananthia nods at F'niah's remarks, "That ya can. Just let me know what'cha need and we'll fish it out fer ya." Kachina still refuses, even going so far as to duck down into nan's pocket until just her tail hangs out.
"A fifth of my life," the bluerider agrees, one of those mysterious adults who is able to Do Math in his head. "Yeah, Fort's home. Didn't you hear the weyrwoman say that she and I Impressed together?" He lets the rest of the questions slide while he addresses Nan: "That's fine. I need to get Saneth unpacked and see what's up there before I start digging around, though. I'll probably come find you in a couple of hours." Then it's back to the girl. "You've sure got a lot of questions. Let's go so we don't bother the ladies, and you can ask all the questions you want."
Memily nods at Jenna, "Sewing is pretty standard for everything. The only consideration is the type of stitch you need for your material." She brushes cupped hands together across the table, making a little mound of crumbs from her eating, and then promptly brushes them off onto the floor. She looks at F'niah now, interested in his answers to Reighley's questions. She looks down at her hands after he answers. They're a bit dirtied from sweeping the table off, so she wipes them discreetly on the inside of the hem of her dress.
Nananthia nods, "Well I reckon I'll prolly be down at th' lake. Haven't tried my luck in a sevenday, so maybe I'll get lucky," is all she says and stands from the table, walking over to the tables to refill her mug of klah.
"So..." Reighley hesitates, holding out her fingers and doing a quick tally. "You're thirty... thirty-five?" she decides, peering at F'niah. Though, his words bring a slight flush to her cheeks. "Oh. I, uh. I guess I wasn't listening. I'm sorry," she admits. And, blankly: "Go? Go where?"
Jenna grunts faintly. Stupid lizards. A nod is given to Memily, and she hands over the particular hide that shows where the pants are located. "If you need any help finding them, just let me know.
Jenna grunts faintly. Stupid lizards. A nod is given to Memily, and she hands over the particular hide that shows where the pants are located. "If you need any help finding them, just let me know." She watches Reighley and F'niah with an almost distrustful, maternal air, sort of a 'where are you going with that kid, Sef' kind of expression.
F'niah calls after Nan, "I'll find you!" before it's back to Reighly. "Just to another table, or somewhere we won't be interrupting." See? See how nice his manners are? "It was nice meeting you... Memily, right? And, um..." He restarches both spine and words. "It was good to see you, ma'am. My regards to Niyath."
Memily looks over the hide, turning it in her hands a bit this way and that to get a sense of direction, "I think I can get there, Ma'am." she nods in Jenna's direction. She looks up from hide to bluerider then, "Yes, it's Memily. A pleasure meeting you as well, Sir." a smile and then her eyes go back to the hide.
Jenna nods faintly to F'niah. "I'll see if I can't find P'ter." And she suits actions to words, pocketing the doughey pastry and heading out to the bowl after a quick smile all around.
Jenna heads out the cavernous entrance to the bowl.
Jenna has left.
"Oh," says Reighley, nodding. "Okay. I don't /mean/ to ask so many questions, but..." She shrugs again. "You impressed with Jenna? So you two are, like, old friends?" The girl's expression is dubious as she peers between the not-speaking clutchmates. "Oh, er. Bye, Jenna," she adds as the goldrider departs, waving after her. "I should have let her take some with her," is her afterthought, as she notes the leftover pastries still set out on the table.
Nananthia is left with a pile of inventory hides and nearly smacks her head on the table, but she certainly smacks her palm on her forehead as Jenna leaves, "Well shells... now I'm sharding stuck with all these hides." she grumps and then sighs.
"Better you than me," F'niah says to Nananthia, not unsympathetically. Then to Reighley, "It's all right. Here, we can go sit over there," 'There' is a nod toward the bowl entrance, "and then we can watch for P'ter. I'm just as happy resting a little bit before I unpack all the things that I just packed."
Memily looks up as Jenna departs, "Goodbye, Ma'am." she calls softly. Rolling the hide up into an easier to manage form, she turns to face the others standing near the table. She raises her eyebrows at Nananthia, "Can I help you put them away,Ma'am?" She shifts in her seat and swallows hard, "I need something to drink. Can I get something for anyone while I'm up?" and she stands, taking a step or two towards the location of the klah.
Nananthia treats F'niah to a mock glare and then rolls her eyes and smiles to Memily, "No, thank ya though. I said I'd help Jenna with the inventorys so I reckon I gotta sort through this here pile a hides." But she shakes her head, "No, thank ya, though. I still got m' refill of klah."
"P'ter, he's the Weyrleader," says Reighley cheerfully. "I've never met him, but I saw him once. Do you have a lot of stuff to unpack? I bet you do--you've had a long time to pile it up. When I came here, I didn't have that much, but I'm not /that/ old yet," the girl rambles on, until a glance at the kitchens shows a cook standing there and waving at her. "Oh. Oh, I forgot. I'm supposed to help cook some more stuff--I promised I'd help them. I'll see you later--enjoy the rest of those pastries. Bye!" Standing, she hurries over to meet the woman.