Sewing and Ships
The cavern runs south, along which you can see many rooms opening out into the rock. East are more rooms, and the archway to the Living Cavern to the west.
Contents:
Griere
Fayre ambles into the west cavern, looking like a typical Istan resident--a bit wornout and sweaty from the unbearable island heat and a day of work. Under one arm is a bundle of mismatching, both in colour and size, pants, all of which look a bit worse for wear. In her other hand is a sewing kit, making her reason for taking a trip to the workroom fairly obvious.
Just another lazy Istan afternoon, the air outside thick and hazy with humidity and the clouds above a blanket to hold it all in. Griere has parked herself at a table in the workroom with her woven bag beside her on the bench and a half-cut apple beside her on the table. But neither of these things have her attention just now; it's the book in front of her that she focuses on, a loosely bound collection of hide and paper that seems to be drawings of people.
Carmen walks in from the living cavern.
Carmen has arrived.
Fayre collapses loudly into a seat relatively close to Griere. With two equally loud thumps, she places her stack of pants and sewing kit on the table in front of her. "Another day, another mound of stuff to fix." The young woman mumbles to herself, sorting through her large pile of clothing until she finds the smallest pair of pants. Humming a soft tune to herself, she begins to stitch a red patch onto the knee of the small brown pants.
Delayed, as if awareness of Fayre is slow to sink in, Griere looks up from her book and toward the girl. She just looks at her for a moment, and then down at the work she'd doing. "Are you handy with a needle? Or just in the business of patching and seam repairs?"
Fayre looks up with some surprise, jolting a bit when she realizes Griere is right nearby. After a moment, she smiles politely and bobs her head. "So my sisters tell me, Weyrwoman." The painfully polite smile widens into a cheerful grin. "'course, that could just be because they want me to do all their patching for 'im. They can be devious like that. But I don't really mind. It's nice to relax and sew sometimes, y'know?" She shrugs lightly as she begins to stitch again. "And I can always send it to the seamstresses if I'm too busy, but I think it's a good skill to have."
Swinging 'round into the door is a less put-together Carmen than one normally sees. Her hair--usually so artfully arranged, is pulled up and back into a simple bun. Instead of her usual flimsy skirts, she's a much more sensible simple dress and her face is flushed. "Ah, good you are in here," she offers Fayre a twitch of her lips--perhaps a smile? Noting Griere, she straightens and makes a subtle attempt to straighten her dress, dropping into a low curtsey before turning back to Fayre. "There was a mistake and my ship isn't leaving until tomorrow." There's a satisfied smirk that suggests the poor captain got an earful for that delay. "Could I impose on you're hospitality for a night?" A quick glance to Griere before she offers Fayre a wider--if sardonic--smile. "I promise not to sell anything."
Griere listens, patient. "But so you are familiar with the construction of clothes, yes? The Weyrleader needs some clothes suitable to both his station and the climate here. He says he's cut the sleeves off of his shirts," a point that seems to bewilder her as evinced by her little frown and the pronounced blink of her lashes, "But it hardly seems proper that we should let him run around in butchered clothes." She turns a page of her book. "I was going to send someone to the weaverhall with my requests." And laying a hand on the book it appears more obvious that it is a collection of clothing designs. At Carmen's arrival, though, Griere blinks again, this time with some surprise. "You're the girl from the hatching."
Carmen's smile is mirrored by Fayre and the young woman noticeably brightens at another--perhaps a little less intimidating--familiar face. "Ah, h'lo Carmen! Didn't know if I'd ever see you again. Glad to hear your ship is delayed." She chuckles a bit, eyes falling back down to her work. "Well, that sounds a bit silly. Not happy you're delayed, but happy to see you again." Her expression turns more serious at Griere's request and the assistant headwoman nods solemnly. "Aye, I've made a few clothes here and there. Can't promise anythin' fancy, but I can certainly make serviceable clothes designed with Ista's climate in mind." She snorts loudly at A'son's clothing solution, shaking her head as she stitches away. "Oy, his shirts must look a right mess after he did that to 'em. Can't have our Weyrleader runnin' about looking like a ragamuffin, eh?" She glances up again, noting the Weyrwoman's design book with a nod. "Anything particular you have in mind? Weaverhall can probably do fancier stuff, but I'm cheap. And local!" She flashes a grin, showing some Istan pride.
Carmen nods towards Griere, confirming her statement wordlessly before adding "Yes, I came to learn something about manners, Weyrwoman" she quips lightly before flashing an overbright smile. She glances about the room, hiding her laughter in a cough as she recalls just those 'butchered clothes'. "Doing sewing, Fayre?" She can't /quite/ return the sentiment, but she does the second best thing. "I can help with some of the repairs," she offers coolly.
Griere lifts a hand slightly in an attempt to slow Fayre's offer. "What I mean to say is, if you'd be willing, or perhaps wanting, to make the trip for me, I can arrange that. I'd like to send someone with some knowledge of the trade to place my commission and then also to collect the items when they're complete, inspect them before bringing them home. I could send one of the posted weavers, or a seamstress, but if you have interest in going..." With little to add to Carmen's comments, she just waits quietly during the foreigners offer to help with Fayre's needlework.
Fayre nods in response to Carmen's question as she holds up the brown pair of pants to inspect her stitched-on patch. With a nod of satisfaction, she places it to her left and pulls another pair from the pile to her right. "Aye, just stitchin' some stuff up for my siblings." Her face falls slightly when Griere explains herself, but suddenly a grin brightens up her face. "Oooh! I'd love to go! Never been there before. Only really been to other places for hatchings and gathers and the like, but never been to a real fancy Crafter Hall." She raises an eyebrow in disbelief at Carmen and teasingly notes, "Pardon my expression, but you don't strike me as a lass that knows how to sew."
Griere's silence is noted, but it's Fayre's final remark that causes the travel-worn lass to lift her chin and straighten her shoulders. "I'll have you know that I received a lady's education from my mother, which of course means I can sew. Sew, embroider and stitch." (pose by Carmen)
"Excellent, I've noted a few pieces..." and Griere begins to show Fayre one of them, but then she cuts off abruptly and lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Aerianth wants more oiling. Growing egg-heavy requires extra care for her hide. If you'll excuse me." And she gathers up her things, stowing the book in her bag and leaving the apple to whomever. "I'll catch up with you again about the commission, Fayre." And for Carmen she gives a polite nod of her head. "Enjoy your extra night here." And after that, she's off.
Griere has left.
A smirk twitches on Fayre's face at Carmen's curt response. "Alrighty then, you're a true lass and lady." She puts down her work when Griere begins to show her some designs, her eyebrows raising when the Weyrwoman suddenly breaks off. "Ah, don't fret about it, Weyrwoman. I hear golds can get a bit needy come clutching time. And with good reason, of course." She hastily adds that last bit, hoping to avoid any possible offense. "You can always find me in the living caverns. Well, or the Sandbar." Once Griere is gone, she plucks up another pair of pants and sets to work patching the back of it. "Feel free to take a seat if you'd like, lass."
Returning Griere's polite nod, Carmen offers a chill smile as well. "Thank you, Weyrwoman. I'm sure I will." Once the Senior has disappeared around that corner, she moves to take up her vacated seat and reaches for a torn shirt and a needle and thread. Threading the needle, the Bitran lady begins to mend the tear with small, neat stitches. "How can you say we're alike, Fayre?" she asks after a moment of silence. "She and I are /nothing/ alike!" This statement made vehemently, punctuated by a particularly violent stab of the needle.
Fayre leans over towards Carmen to inspect her work, nodding in approval at the tiny, straight stitches. "Ah, you weren't lying. Your mother must have been a good teacher." She jolts backward at the sudden outburst, nearly poking her finger with her own needle. "Ack!" She pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts, continuing to stich her siblings' pants. "Um, I'm not sure. You two just have similar..." She puts down her work to aimlessly whirl around her hands in the air. "...auras. You kind of both give off an air of...icy confidence, y'know? Like you know exactly what you're doing and no one can shake that certainty."
"Of course I wasn't lying," Carmen replies primly. "It's stupid to lie when you can be so easily caught." She continues her work, focussed on the in and out motion of the needle. "But surely confidence cannot be so lacking that for two people to have it makes them so similar?" Carmen doesn't seem to grasp the concept of this similarity. Her 'whirling' earns her a skeptical look. "Careful dear, you'll hurt yourself flailing about like that," she warns, cool eyes flitting back and forth between her work and the Headwoman she isn't sure is quite sane at the moment.
Fayre shrugs as she begins her work on the pants again. "It's not just the /confidence/. It's the way you go about it. Both so sure of yourselves. Which I guess is the definition of confidence, but eh. It's just a feeling I get from both of you." She squints at her work carefully, pulling a few stitches out when she notes they're a bit slack. "Hard to believe how fast people can make holes in clothes. It's mostly just my ickle brother, though." She snorts a bit and shakes her head, causing her braid to flail about instead of her hands. "Naw, I use big gestures all the time and I'm big myself. Haven't hurt myself too much yet."
Ducking the braid, Carmen sits up again slowly, looking about her in concern before returning to her work, finishing the seam and tying it off quickly. "Fayre, dear, I don't know what it is you see, but it rather makes me concerned for your mental faculties." It's an attempt at humor, but falls just short of teasing in her arrogant register.
Fayre looks confused at Carmen's duck, not realizing the dangers of her swaying hair--not as noticeable when it's not coming straight towards your head, presumably. "People tend to say that. Well, they don't always use such snazzy words. Usually stuff like 'you're crazy,' 'get away from me,' and 'put that wooden spoon down before you give me splinters and I have to go to the infirmary.' That sort of thing." Apparently, these accusations don't bother the assistant headwoman much, as she just shrugs. She glances into her sewing kit for a moment, her face falling as she looks in. "Aww, shoot. I forgot my red thread. I gotta go back to the resident caverns and dig around for some. I'll see you around, Carmen."
Contents:
Griere
Fayre ambles into the west cavern, looking like a typical Istan resident--a bit wornout and sweaty from the unbearable island heat and a day of work. Under one arm is a bundle of mismatching, both in colour and size, pants, all of which look a bit worse for wear. In her other hand is a sewing kit, making her reason for taking a trip to the workroom fairly obvious.
Just another lazy Istan afternoon, the air outside thick and hazy with humidity and the clouds above a blanket to hold it all in. Griere has parked herself at a table in the workroom with her woven bag beside her on the bench and a half-cut apple beside her on the table. But neither of these things have her attention just now; it's the book in front of her that she focuses on, a loosely bound collection of hide and paper that seems to be drawings of people.
Carmen walks in from the living cavern.
Carmen has arrived.
Fayre collapses loudly into a seat relatively close to Griere. With two equally loud thumps, she places her stack of pants and sewing kit on the table in front of her. "Another day, another mound of stuff to fix." The young woman mumbles to herself, sorting through her large pile of clothing until she finds the smallest pair of pants. Humming a soft tune to herself, she begins to stitch a red patch onto the knee of the small brown pants.
Delayed, as if awareness of Fayre is slow to sink in, Griere looks up from her book and toward the girl. She just looks at her for a moment, and then down at the work she'd doing. "Are you handy with a needle? Or just in the business of patching and seam repairs?"
Fayre looks up with some surprise, jolting a bit when she realizes Griere is right nearby. After a moment, she smiles politely and bobs her head. "So my sisters tell me, Weyrwoman." The painfully polite smile widens into a cheerful grin. "'course, that could just be because they want me to do all their patching for 'im. They can be devious like that. But I don't really mind. It's nice to relax and sew sometimes, y'know?" She shrugs lightly as she begins to stitch again. "And I can always send it to the seamstresses if I'm too busy, but I think it's a good skill to have."
Swinging 'round into the door is a less put-together Carmen than one normally sees. Her hair--usually so artfully arranged, is pulled up and back into a simple bun. Instead of her usual flimsy skirts, she's a much more sensible simple dress and her face is flushed. "Ah, good you are in here," she offers Fayre a twitch of her lips--perhaps a smile? Noting Griere, she straightens and makes a subtle attempt to straighten her dress, dropping into a low curtsey before turning back to Fayre. "There was a mistake and my ship isn't leaving until tomorrow." There's a satisfied smirk that suggests the poor captain got an earful for that delay. "Could I impose on you're hospitality for a night?" A quick glance to Griere before she offers Fayre a wider--if sardonic--smile. "I promise not to sell anything."
Griere listens, patient. "But so you are familiar with the construction of clothes, yes? The Weyrleader needs some clothes suitable to both his station and the climate here. He says he's cut the sleeves off of his shirts," a point that seems to bewilder her as evinced by her little frown and the pronounced blink of her lashes, "But it hardly seems proper that we should let him run around in butchered clothes." She turns a page of her book. "I was going to send someone to the weaverhall with my requests." And laying a hand on the book it appears more obvious that it is a collection of clothing designs. At Carmen's arrival, though, Griere blinks again, this time with some surprise. "You're the girl from the hatching."
Carmen's smile is mirrored by Fayre and the young woman noticeably brightens at another--perhaps a little less intimidating--familiar face. "Ah, h'lo Carmen! Didn't know if I'd ever see you again. Glad to hear your ship is delayed." She chuckles a bit, eyes falling back down to her work. "Well, that sounds a bit silly. Not happy you're delayed, but happy to see you again." Her expression turns more serious at Griere's request and the assistant headwoman nods solemnly. "Aye, I've made a few clothes here and there. Can't promise anythin' fancy, but I can certainly make serviceable clothes designed with Ista's climate in mind." She snorts loudly at A'son's clothing solution, shaking her head as she stitches away. "Oy, his shirts must look a right mess after he did that to 'em. Can't have our Weyrleader runnin' about looking like a ragamuffin, eh?" She glances up again, noting the Weyrwoman's design book with a nod. "Anything particular you have in mind? Weaverhall can probably do fancier stuff, but I'm cheap. And local!" She flashes a grin, showing some Istan pride.
Carmen nods towards Griere, confirming her statement wordlessly before adding "Yes, I came to learn something about manners, Weyrwoman" she quips lightly before flashing an overbright smile. She glances about the room, hiding her laughter in a cough as she recalls just those 'butchered clothes'. "Doing sewing, Fayre?" She can't /quite/ return the sentiment, but she does the second best thing. "I can help with some of the repairs," she offers coolly.
Griere lifts a hand slightly in an attempt to slow Fayre's offer. "What I mean to say is, if you'd be willing, or perhaps wanting, to make the trip for me, I can arrange that. I'd like to send someone with some knowledge of the trade to place my commission and then also to collect the items when they're complete, inspect them before bringing them home. I could send one of the posted weavers, or a seamstress, but if you have interest in going..." With little to add to Carmen's comments, she just waits quietly during the foreigners offer to help with Fayre's needlework.
Fayre nods in response to Carmen's question as she holds up the brown pair of pants to inspect her stitched-on patch. With a nod of satisfaction, she places it to her left and pulls another pair from the pile to her right. "Aye, just stitchin' some stuff up for my siblings." Her face falls slightly when Griere explains herself, but suddenly a grin brightens up her face. "Oooh! I'd love to go! Never been there before. Only really been to other places for hatchings and gathers and the like, but never been to a real fancy Crafter Hall." She raises an eyebrow in disbelief at Carmen and teasingly notes, "Pardon my expression, but you don't strike me as a lass that knows how to sew."
Griere's silence is noted, but it's Fayre's final remark that causes the travel-worn lass to lift her chin and straighten her shoulders. "I'll have you know that I received a lady's education from my mother, which of course means I can sew. Sew, embroider and stitch." (pose by Carmen)
"Excellent, I've noted a few pieces..." and Griere begins to show Fayre one of them, but then she cuts off abruptly and lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Aerianth wants more oiling. Growing egg-heavy requires extra care for her hide. If you'll excuse me." And she gathers up her things, stowing the book in her bag and leaving the apple to whomever. "I'll catch up with you again about the commission, Fayre." And for Carmen she gives a polite nod of her head. "Enjoy your extra night here." And after that, she's off.
Griere has left.
A smirk twitches on Fayre's face at Carmen's curt response. "Alrighty then, you're a true lass and lady." She puts down her work when Griere begins to show her some designs, her eyebrows raising when the Weyrwoman suddenly breaks off. "Ah, don't fret about it, Weyrwoman. I hear golds can get a bit needy come clutching time. And with good reason, of course." She hastily adds that last bit, hoping to avoid any possible offense. "You can always find me in the living caverns. Well, or the Sandbar." Once Griere is gone, she plucks up another pair of pants and sets to work patching the back of it. "Feel free to take a seat if you'd like, lass."
Returning Griere's polite nod, Carmen offers a chill smile as well. "Thank you, Weyrwoman. I'm sure I will." Once the Senior has disappeared around that corner, she moves to take up her vacated seat and reaches for a torn shirt and a needle and thread. Threading the needle, the Bitran lady begins to mend the tear with small, neat stitches. "How can you say we're alike, Fayre?" she asks after a moment of silence. "She and I are /nothing/ alike!" This statement made vehemently, punctuated by a particularly violent stab of the needle.
Fayre leans over towards Carmen to inspect her work, nodding in approval at the tiny, straight stitches. "Ah, you weren't lying. Your mother must have been a good teacher." She jolts backward at the sudden outburst, nearly poking her finger with her own needle. "Ack!" She pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts, continuing to stich her siblings' pants. "Um, I'm not sure. You two just have similar..." She puts down her work to aimlessly whirl around her hands in the air. "...auras. You kind of both give off an air of...icy confidence, y'know? Like you know exactly what you're doing and no one can shake that certainty."
"Of course I wasn't lying," Carmen replies primly. "It's stupid to lie when you can be so easily caught." She continues her work, focussed on the in and out motion of the needle. "But surely confidence cannot be so lacking that for two people to have it makes them so similar?" Carmen doesn't seem to grasp the concept of this similarity. Her 'whirling' earns her a skeptical look. "Careful dear, you'll hurt yourself flailing about like that," she warns, cool eyes flitting back and forth between her work and the Headwoman she isn't sure is quite sane at the moment.
Fayre shrugs as she begins her work on the pants again. "It's not just the /confidence/. It's the way you go about it. Both so sure of yourselves. Which I guess is the definition of confidence, but eh. It's just a feeling I get from both of you." She squints at her work carefully, pulling a few stitches out when she notes they're a bit slack. "Hard to believe how fast people can make holes in clothes. It's mostly just my ickle brother, though." She snorts a bit and shakes her head, causing her braid to flail about instead of her hands. "Naw, I use big gestures all the time and I'm big myself. Haven't hurt myself too much yet."
Ducking the braid, Carmen sits up again slowly, looking about her in concern before returning to her work, finishing the seam and tying it off quickly. "Fayre, dear, I don't know what it is you see, but it rather makes me concerned for your mental faculties." It's an attempt at humor, but falls just short of teasing in her arrogant register.
Fayre looks confused at Carmen's duck, not realizing the dangers of her swaying hair--not as noticeable when it's not coming straight towards your head, presumably. "People tend to say that. Well, they don't always use such snazzy words. Usually stuff like 'you're crazy,' 'get away from me,' and 'put that wooden spoon down before you give me splinters and I have to go to the infirmary.' That sort of thing." Apparently, these accusations don't bother the assistant headwoman much, as she just shrugs. She glances into her sewing kit for a moment, her face falling as she looks in. "Aww, shoot. I forgot my red thread. I gotta go back to the resident caverns and dig around for some. I'll see you around, Carmen."