[Log] When Did I Become So Scary?
Who: Claret, R'dur, Yselle
When: Day 21, Month 7, Turn 3
Where: Workroom, Telgar Weyr
What: Claret, R'dur, and Yselle discuss map-making and scary people in the workroom.
Telgar's Workroom
Telgar's workroom is usually aflutter with activity. When the skies are clear of Thread and the main caverns taken care of, many of the residents gather here to work on hobbies and projects of one sort or another. Leather strips hang neatly on pegs along the northern wall, while varying hues of threads in an array of widths dangle beside them. Thin strips of wood are gathered into baskets that line the wall beneath the pegs and, one would assume, are used in making other baskets. The eastern wall boasts a long, if narrow wooden table. Materials and hides litter its top which are likely works in progress left by owners for the now. A small hearth and nearby table complete the room as they occur by the southern-most stone wall. Mugs, cups and small plates claim the table as home while there always seems to be something brewing over the heat. Glowbaskets are scattered about the cavern for use by whomever needs them. They manage to add a warm glow that tends to pervade those who enter here.
Contents:
Claret
Yselle
Obvious exits:
Bowl
Yselle
This girl will most charitably be described as having 'a good personality'. Nature has been particularly cruel to her. Thick, dark eyebrows loom over her eyes, her nose is slightly crooked, with a bump near the end, and her lips are pale in colour, and way too thin. Her one real beauty is her eyes; liquid brown and large, framed with thick lashes, readily crinkling into a smile. It is easy enough to overlook these, however, with a huge, bulgy mole sitting just in front of her left ear, and a sallow complexion, her skin heavily scarred from a nasty case of acne. She seems to attract scars like a flame attracts insects too; several are scattered over her body, most notably a double-semicircular set of gashes on the left side of her throat that resemble teeth marks. Figure-wise, she is nothing to write home about. Although her limbs are well-toned, her joints are knobbly, and her curves are almost nonexistent. In seeming defiance of all this ugliness, however, her dark brown hair has been cut very stylishly: cropped at about chin-level, it hangs in straight, blunt-ended lines, which always seem to fall neatly back into place.
As though dusk's shadows have fallen across these leathers, they are of a darkened hue which only just falls short of true black. Double-stitched, and snugly tailored, they're fastened at the wrists with gleaming metal studs which precisely match those used in place of buttons up the front. Likewise, the buckle of her belt, surprisingly plainly shaped, gleams beneath the jacket, clasping the darkened leather to her waist, where it falls to hug her hips, and legs, though not tightly enough to restrict movement. Her boots, laced to beneath her knees, take up the darkened hue, precisely matching those of her leathers. A glimpse of deep red wine, Yselle's under tunic, may be caught when her collar is loosened, the solitary splash of colour.
She wears a silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand, and a rose quartz pendant in the shape of a conjoined Y and s.
Black and White, the colours of Telgar Weyr, entwine with kelly green, looped in an elaborate fashion, clearly indicating her rank as Weyrsecond.
Claret
Claret has the form of a young woman of approximately twenty turns. She stands about three inches under six feet, with long slender limbs that fold gracefully when she sits, an effect that is quite at odds with her habit of hastily and unceremoniously arranging her form in whatever awkward position seems most expedient. Her fingers have the slim dexterity of one accustomed to precise handwork and her muscles are toned from active lifestyle and employment. Yet her movement manages never to be quite fluid, frequently enough taking a roundabout path into large objects when she simply cannot spare the attention to watch where she's going. Lightly waved hair so dark brown as to be almost black falls in thick abundance down her back when loose, framing a face of naturally tanned skin and mercurial black eyes.
Claret is dressed in a well-worn tunic of a light golden brown. Breeches and shirt of a darker, dry earth toned brown are worn underneath the tunic, with a brown belt to secure the ensemble. A handy pouch hangs from the belt and sturdy brown boots encase her feet. Her hair is braided back simply and knotted at the base of her neck, and a greenriders knot of black, white, and green is pinned to her shoulder, accompanied by an Icewind patch.
Part of the narrow table has been swept clean, and covered with a huge piece of hide, weighed down at the corners by several small, but rather pretty rocks. The weyrsecond stands over it with a stylus and a huge grin on her face, "Now if only I could /draw/," she mutters.
Enter R'dur, carrying a stack of leather ready for straps. "I can't believe you need new ones already," he mumbles under his breath as he walks into the workroom. He pauses, though, when he sees Yselle and her project, giving the greenrider a wide berth rather than impinging on her space. He sets his leather down on the edge of the table, as far from Yselle as he can get--though he can't resist a curious glance over at her as she speaks to herself.
Claret threads her way into the workroom with a bundle of heavy cloth under her arm, clunking along the length of the room with a questing gaze. Its progress is quite interrupted, however, when it passes by R'dur and his straps, and any hope he had at being unobtrusive is probably gone as she calls cheerily, "Evening, R'dur!" And then her eyes move on again, and a possibly unnoticed wave is given to the distracted Weyrsecond.
"Weyrling," Yselle looks up, grins, and says "They /always/ need new straps, at least it always seemed that way. How I still manage to maim myself every time I make them, I'll never know, Dianneth gave me so much practice in those early days. How's Alidaeth?" She turns to Claret, and offers the other greenrider a grin. "Tell me you can draw, Claret," she pleads. "When I try, people usually guess what I've drawn by what it looks like least. Or... are you busy with something else?"
R'dur glances up at Claret as she calls his name, offering a friendly smile and a few words. "Good evening, Claret." He doesn't even stumble or pause before the name this time. "How are you tonight?" He gives his leather another look, sorting out a few pieces as he starts the tedious project of remaking straps. "Hello, ma'am. Alidaeth is quite well--growing like he's never going to stop. Though, don't let me disturb you if you're busy," he adds to Yselle.
Claret makes a gesture that looks vaguely like a perfunctory salute, wandering closer to the table for a peek at the hide. "Well..." she draws out uncertainly. "I can draw well enough that folks usually know what I'm getting at. But it can get to being quite a stretch of imagination, for them." Grinning ruefully, she lifts the arm in which she holds the fabric with a shrug. "Only mending. If you can mend anything but straps..." She doesn't seem to notice R'dur's easy greeting of her, though another smile for him rolls off her lips. "Good. I am, I mean. How about you?"
Yselle's eyebrows climb her forehead. "Has Breena changed the rules? Please address Claret by her rank, weyrling. I'm sure the rationale has been explained to you." Her gaze isn't so harsh as her words, but her expression is implacable. As for the greenrider, "No, the weavercraft makes a living out of me, I'm afraid, especially thanks to that green nuisance of mine... yes, I know you are dear, but you /will/ go on about my clothes," she rolls her eyes, and confides, "I swear, sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to have her out of my head."
R'dur starts to formulate a reply to Claret's question, but Yselle's correction beats him to it. Flushing with embarrassment at being called out on his error, he nods to the older rider. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologizes meekly, not looking up at her. The glance he sends Claret is guilty, though he does mumble out, "I'm well, too, ma'am." He's still blushing, and fidgeting with a strip of leather.
Claret sends R'dur a mildly apologetic glance, but knows better than to add anything else to it besides a candid, "You look a bit discomfited now, but I'm glad it's not a permanent state. Or that you're well besides." Tucking her bundle back into her side, her mouth quirks. "Me too. But I thought curtains, at least, it doesn't really matter if I do a beastly job of mending them, as long as there aren't any tears, right?" And then her eyes roll. "With Avrieth, too. It'd be nice not to be told what to do for a day!"
Yselle just nods to R'dur, as though dismissing the whole incident, now it has been corrected. "Now, tell me, /you/ wouldn't be able to draw would you? Not that I suppose it matters, but it'd be nice if someone could make out what it's meant to be." She offers him a kind smile, and laughs, "Oh yes, Avrieth. What is it about greens, I wonder? You're lucky you impressed brown, R'dur, well, except for having to make several more pairs of straps." A pause then she rolls her eyes and says dutifully, as if repeating a lesson, "Yes, you are the most beautiful, wonderful dragon ever, and I wouldn't change you for anything."
Claret's comments do nothing to quiet the brown weyrling's embarrassment; R'dur's blush stubbornly remains as various other emotions flicker over his face. He sighs and straightens then, setting down that one piece of leather for another, which he begins working intently. "Ma'am?" he then asks, stopping to peer earnestly up at Yselle. His face and neck are finally back to their normal color, at least. "I... I don't know. What do you need drawn? Ma'am?" He's very careful to stick that title in as often as he can now. "I... suppose I am? I'm not sure how having Alidaeth be brown is luckier than anything else, ma'am," he admits apologetically.
"Yes, what are you drawing?" Claret asks. "Must be kind of complicated, if you want people to be able to know what it is." As R'dur's color finally cools, the greenrider barely manages to smother a laugh, taking a deep, choking swallow before she answers his question sincerely. "I don't know about other dragons, but plenty of the greens I know boss their riders something terrible. I can't get away from Avrieth chatting in my head unless she's asleep, and even then! It's like I can hear the reverberations. Though," she concludes with a small smile towards the straps in the weyrling's arms, "The smaller size is nice."
Yselle glances over at Claret, asking, "When did I become so scary?" poor R'dur. "Well, only if you want to, of course, R'dur, it's just something I'm doing for fun, not for the weyr or anything, and I'm sure you don't have a lot of free time right now, I'd hate you to think you had to use it helping me. I'm sending Tel on a treasure hunt; hopefully he'll take Levarn with him - oh, that's our son," she explains belatedly, "So I want to make the clues /reasonably/ easy to work out. Levarn's taken a liking to the minecraft, and I've got him a set of basic tools, what do you think? His twelfth turnday is coming up soon enough to make that an excuse, and I know Evin - that's my father, he's a masterminer - will help him apprentice, if he wants to." After the long explanation, she adds her own war-story, "Dianneth has a comment on everything, from how I dress to who I should be spending time with. She can be quite insistent."
"Alidaeth isn't... bossy, really: more... encouraging--in an occasionally pushy sort of way. Ma'am," R'dur muses carefully, his smile faint. He shrugs then, and gives his own unfinished straps one last look before pushing them away and turning back to the two greenriders. "I don't mind helping, ma'am, if you want. It's nice to have something specific to work on when I do get free time, instead of just... sitting around unproductively." He eyes Yselle's work thoughtfully.
"Well..." Claret draws out, trying to keep her tone innocuous. "You are, just a little bit, sometimes. But all in good cause." Her amusement is still palpable as she glances over at R'dur, and it heightens into an intrigued expression. "Really? A treasure hunt? That's marvelous! Bet they'll love that." And she doesn't distinguish between child and father in that. "Levarn's nearly twelve? Gosh. That seems old." She gazes at Yselle somewhat speculatively, as though to figure out if the greenrider has just that moment aged several turns beyond her memory. "Always liking to be working? That'll serve you well. Although not, of course, if you never have any fun," she allows.
Yselle laughs at R'dur's words. "Dianneth always had me doing extra drills. I swear, between her and I'sai, I wonder how I lived through weyrlinghood." She pauses, frowns, but continues, "Well, if you're /sure/, I suppose it's not so much constructive as a devious little plan to get back on that nuisance of a man whilst giving my son a fun way to find his present. So, do you think you could manage a reasonably clear drawing of the bowl?" She grins at Claret, poking her tongue out at the scary verdict. "Darn K'ran. I knew that throwing this knot at me was a bad idea." Her smile is fond, though. "Oh yes, I had Levarn before I came here; hm, maybe I'll put Tel's current favourite shirt at the end of the map too, that'll give him an incentive to work it out to the end. Otherwise, he'd probably just wander off when he saw something shiny."
R'dur hesitates, brows knitting as he glances to Claret. "Well, working /is/ fun, a lot of times. Or at the least, it's necessary, ma'am," he tells her in some confusion, tilting his head slightly. He shrugs her words off, though, by focusing back on Yselle. "Maps are more about precision than artistry, which makes them somewhat easier. At least, to me. I can try, if you want, ma'am. As many laps of the bowl as we've made, I should have it quite thoroughly fixed in my mind. Ma'am." Though he might be slowly relaxing again, R'dur is not about to slip up and forget that title again.
Claret gives Yselle a sunny smile. "You're not even a portion as frightening as -he- can be, so that's well enough." Her bundle is set aside, the better to watch the proceedings without hindrance. "'Course work's necessary. So's other stuff, too, though. Good if you enjoy your work, anyway. Personally, knowing the bowl like the back of your hand isn't my fondest recollection." That thought is shrugged off readily enough, if with a smile, and she ducks her head in a nod to Yselle. "I know. I just remember him when he was here." A hand is held out in a vague estimation of where his height would have been several years ago. "Maybe if I had children, I'd remember time better." Perish the day. "Seems a good turnday present, anyhow!"
"Working can be fun, or at least, it is when you can just go out and /fly/," Yselle enthuses. "Never could enjoy latrine duty though, or helping out the laundry aunties. Now, I was thinking of drawing the bowl /here/," she enscribes a circle with her fingertips, "With a trail leading through the storage caverns - I'm afraid map-making really isn't my thing. I'll have to dot a few clues along the way." She eyes Claret, "I know what you mean," she says. "Although he grows on you. Sort of, when he's not your weyrlingmaster. It's still pretty weird to think of him as just an ordinary rider. At least he won't be lost for something to do when Taralyth's eggs hatch.- Well, I hope Levarn likes it. I know Evin is hoping to have another generation of miners in the family."
R'dur gives Claret a curious look, then smiles. "It's probably not anyone's favorite, ma'am, but we weyrlings don't generally get a choice in doing it," he admits. He then leans closer to Yselle to peer at her hide. "I see," he muses thoughtfully. "I think... Hmm." He picks up a spare piece of hide and a pencil left on the table some time ago, and proceeds to sketch out a quick few lines in the general shape of the bowl. "I think I could do a passable job, ma'am, if you wanted my help," he tells the greenrider carefully, as he eyes his sketching curiously. "It shouldn't be too hard. Alidaeth and I can work on it in some of our free time."
Claret makes a face at Yselle's comment about 'latrine duty,' and then another at R'dur's words. "I remember only too well. And the laps don't really go away after weyrlinghood, either." She slides behind R'dur's shoulder as he bends over the hide, watching his progress. "Good job someone came along who can draw properly, then." She raises a hand to tug at her ear, giving the Weyrsecond a thoughtful nod. "He was heaps nice to me before I Impressed. I kind of liked him. Like," she corrects, wrinkling her nose with some discomfort. "K'ran, he can be scary too. The both of them."
Yselle mms thoughtfully, "It's never too soon to learn how the bowl looks from the air," she muses. "Yes, see, now, that, that looks like the bowl, doesn't it? Yet when I try to do it, it could be just as easily mistaken for a watchwher or a vtol. Which doesn't really matter so much except they'll have trouble working out where to go, and whilst I really don't /mind/ about Tel's shirt, I'd kind of like Levarn to have his tools." She looks slightly baffled at Claret's words. "I've never been frightened of K'ran. He's really lovely, when you get to know him. I'sai, well, he's... Is. He had a job to do, and he did it very well, but yeah, he was kind of... hm..." searching for a word, she finishes lamely with, "I'sai. There's no other way to describe him."
R'dur frowns slightly, shaking his head. "I can't draw, ma'am," he corrects Claret. "But something like a map is just a matter of getting the lines in the right shape and scale. And anyway, I haven't succeeded yet, ma'am," adds the young man, ducking his head modestly as he peers again at his quick sketch. Then: "K'ran, ma'am? He's never been scary to me. He's my mentor. I don't know I'sai, though." His tone drifts a bit toward apology again, and he grimaces at some internal commentary.
Claret points to the outline on the hide, protesting, "But you've done that. Maps... drawing. Good enough that they resemble each other. More than some could do." And she includes herself in that, jabbing a hand towards her chest. "At least, without flying over it, with Avrieth." Her fingers go from her ear, now, to behind her back, fidgeting away the moments. "When I was a candidate, K'ran got awfully mad at a bunch of us, once. I was scared of him for a few sevendays. And I don't think I was the only one. But not any more. I'sai..." She trails off, grinning at Yselle. "More than I used to be, and still a bit!"
"I think with K'ran..." Yselle's expression softens to dreamy nostalgia, "It was his rank, more than anything. I never met a weyrleader before I met him, so it was kind of more what he was that scared me, not who. And we.. we've been friends since I graduated. You're very lucky to have him as mentor, R'dur, he has a way of helping you believe that you /can/ do things, even when sometimes you wonder. I don't think I could've got through the first months of this job without him at my back, and I'm still very glad he's there." She pauses, looks up at Claret and says, "But that's his /job/, Claret. K'ran's got all of our lives in his hands, or he did when thread was falling. We /had/ to have discipline," she flickers a glance to R'dur, "And we still do. Thread will fall again, and we can't afford not to pass on what might keep future riders alive. That's why I won't overlook your familiarity with Claret, not because I want to wave my knot at you."
Giving Claret an odd look, R'dur notes, "But it's just a quick sketch, not finished. I don't have any of the details on there--like that little alcove, or the way the wall curves here, or..." He trails off, frowning. "I'll have to work on it," he decides finally, nodding. He glances up at Yselle again after that declaration, blinking in surprise. A blush threatens his face again as she brings up his earlier chastisement. "Yes, ma'am. I understand, ma'am," he tells her, nodding. "I'm sorry."
Claret seems to be the recipient of any number of odd or curious looks from R'dur this evening, but doesn't seem to notice a single one, for she shrugs up her shoulders with a bright smile. "Well, whatever you think. I'm sure you're a better judge than me. Avrieth's always saying I'm not sensible about some things." Claret's fidgets continue, even as she inclines her head in agreement with Yselle. "I know it's his job, and all. S'why it's in good cause, that you and he... and I'sai... are a bit scary sometimes. Still," she puts in adamantly, "Doesn't mean that he's not!" Her mouth curves--and only a little bit ruefully. "I don't think I had a proper concept, when I first came here, of what that sort of thing should mean. Weyrleadership and all."
Yselle offers R'dur an encouraging smile, "So, I said it, and you learned from it, and now it's over," she says. "It never hurts to know /why/, I think, though. Now, hm, what do you think? Maybe we could start from Smithcraft or something. Do you think you could draw Smithcraft too? Or don't they let you fly so far yet? - You know, this'd be a good way to practice visualisations, I must tell I's... oh, well, Breena, if she's interested. - Oh, I had some awfully weird ideas about weyrs before I came here. I'm sure I thought K'ran must've been hatched from an egg, and conferred his position in a blaze of lightning," she's laughing though, to show that she's exaggerating.
R'dur shrugs toward Claret, telling her sheepishly, "No one's sensible about everything, ma'am. I'm just... Well, I want it to be perfect." He fidgets, shifting his weight and his grip on the hide bearing his sketch. "We just learned to /between/ recently, so with supervision, I think we'd be allowed to travel a bit, ma'am," R'dur says slowly, thoughtfully. Then, looking embarrassed, he admits, "Before I left my hold, the only rider I had ever really known was my older brother. And, well... he was hardly a shining example, so." Another shrug ensues.
Claret catches Yselle's laugh, grinning lopsidedly. "Yes, something like that. Sounds about right." Her hands are given a last little twist as she informs R'dur, quite seriously, "I think I can assure you with some certainly that I'm a bit less sensible than most people. But not about the really important things. I hope." She puts forward one of those hands in a salute that turns into a wave. "Anyway, this is one of those times when Avrieth is being utterly demanding. But good luck with that map." The wish is given to both of them, and with a last smile, she collects her curtain and makes her way out.
Claret leaves the workroom and heads out into the bowl.
Claret has left.
Yselle grins. "A lot of us knew nothing about the weyr before we came here," she says encouragingly. "I suppose though, I should get to some real work, but if you don't mind, maybe we can work on this map later. I can leave the present until Levarn's turnday, so there's no real rush to get it done. Would you mind? If I do it, it's going to be a real disaster."
"Good night, ma'am," R'dur offers as Claret departs, watching her as she disappears. Then, he nods to Yselle. "Yes, ma'am. If you want to have Dianneth contact Alidaeth when you're ready to work on it, I can--if Weyrlingmaster Breena doesn't mind, of course, ma'am." He offers her a smile, then carefully folds his sketch for the time being. "I should work some on these straps for now myself, ma'am. Good night."
"Your work is definitely more important," Yselle smiles, gathering everything up. "I really can't wait to see the expression on his face though," and smiling, she heads out.