Log: Compulsive
Who: Aeriste, Giremi, Samantia
When: 17:00, 10/26/16
Where: Kitchen, Harper Hall
What: Giremi's trying to have a nice quiet meal with his hidework. Aeriste and Samantia foil his plans.
Kitchen, Harper Hall
The very stone of the kitchen walls seems inbued with the fragrances of turns of food preparation. Enticing aromas drift from the direction of the large hearths built into one wall. Constantly fueled, even in the height of summer, they provide the radiant heat for the two ovens inset in the wall close to them. Large wooden tables, gouged and nicked by multitudes of zealous drudges hard at work under the watchful eyes of cooks, take up much of the floor space. They almost groan with the effort of supporting a burden of produce, herbs, spices and other foodstuffs in various stages of preparations. Large cupboards contain utensils, pots, pans, and other items needed to keep the residents of the Halls full and happy. Off in a fairly secluded alcove are several worn-out, beaten-up looking, but immensely comfortable, large chairs where apprentices gather to talk and complain.
A staircase to the northwest leads up to the dining room, making food service convenient and rapid. A stairway to the northeast leads you back to the courtyard and a short flight of steps to the west leads down to the lower hallway. 'Places' can be seen in the alcoves that tuck in around the edges of the room. (+help places)
Early evening or late afternoon? It's kind of a strange hour to define. Either way, dinner is actually /soon/ but Giremi's eschewing the dining hall and tucked away in one of the kitchen nooks. He's got the table precisely set, with a mat under the plate, the cutlery gleamingly shiny and three serving dishes in front of him, from which he is meticulously taking portions and aranging them on his plate. Nearby, a stack of hides but pushed well out of harm's way of any spilling.
Samantia is being hauled into the kitchens by an angry baker, "And you'll be helping us replace those pies you stole, Apprentice!" She's yelling at the girl, who meekly stalks along, though she licks her lips proudly like the cat who knocked over the milk carton. "Of course, Journeyman." She says, her voice just the right ton of ashamed and contrite. None of that tone is anywhere on her face.
Giremi continues arranging his meal and looks up and over at the kerfluffle. "What now?" he asks the Baker, eyes shifting to the other knotted Crafter. After a moment, he reaches for the hides, picks them up and moves them to the far side of his plate well out of reach.
The Baker journeyman dips her head respectfully to Giremi. "Caught her out in the kitchen garden eating a pie, and what had gone missing just a half-candle before but the very pies I'd just baked?" Samantia just smirks, rubbing her hands together. "Well then, let's make some pie!" She proclaims, and the Journeyman scoffs. That is, until Tia dives her hands into the flour bowl and sends a plume of white rising up into the air. Then, she just stares in stunned silence before diving foward. "Ack! Not like /that/." She squeals, scandalized.
And Giremi doesn't look much more pleased, eyes crossing as the flour goes flying. His fork pauses midway down to a neat pile of fanned, thinly sliced beets. "Faranth," he mutters under his breath. "Samantia, are you seriously aiming to get sent home or locked up with just bread and water?" There's an edge of impatience in his voice.
"Is it true, then," Aeriste inquires brightly from the doorway, "That there's a room in the Harper Hall where they string bad apprentices up by their toes?" He watches the goings-on from a safe distance: no flour is going to muss *him* up, thank you!
Samantia, now with flour clinging to her lank hair and streaking her cheeks and nose, twists to look at Giremi. "I'm not aiming for anything, i'm baking!" She proclaims proudly with two fistfuls of flour. These she slaps down on the rolling block. "Where's the dough? I'll roll the crust." She reaches for the big wooden rolling pin, but the baker slams her hand down on it first. "You'll do no such thing. You can wash and peel the redfruit." Defeated, Tia glowers at the woman. "But peelings the DULL part." "Exactly." As she stalks to the barrel of fresh fruit from the orchards, she sticks her tongue out at Aeriste. Ooh, spiteful
"Ah, no. Just one of the spare rooms. Nothing interesting in it," Giremi answers Aeriste, turning slightly from his nook seat towards the Senior Apprentice." Samantia's shenanigans are eyed again and his hides pushed all the further towards the wall. "Would you care to join me Aeriste?" he offers to the young man and finally takes up his knife to slice off a neat square of beets and only beets.
"Is it safe?" Aeriste asks bluntly, edging sideways and away from the ominously-tongue-sticking-out Samantia with his hands raised in an 'I surrender' sort of way. "She's probably not silly enough to pelt you - us - with condiments, but one bad aim and we're all doomed, right? Oh, is it beet salad today? You really *do* like to keep things ordered, don't you?"
Samantia sniffs as she drags the fruit over the wash basin and begins dunking each fruit. For a moment she looks like she is seriously considering chucking a redfruit at Aeriste's head but then she simply picks up the peeling knife and begins stripping the skin off of it, glowering at the other apprentice like she's imagining it as his head. Safe? Never.
Actually it looks more like steamed beets, steamed carrots, white rivergrains and a little bit of roasted wherry on the serving dishes Remi's got. Everything is very plain and undressed and on his plate it's all neatly separated. The Journeyman sends a brief look Samantia's way. "Mind your fingers," he suggests to her.
"She's going to skin us in our sleep," Aeriste states with absolute certanity. But he does spare another glance for Giremi's plate. "And Faranth's great gold back*side*, you're going to eat that, sir," because if he's going to say something like that, he may as well tack on a title lest *he* get served bread and water, "Not archive it. Your stomach doesn't care if it's all alphebetized."
Samantia lets out an overloud laugh of amusement at Aeriste's second comment. "Never mind, you're alright." She decides of him, tossing the first peeled fruit onto the counter to be cut up and boiled down for pie filling, starting ont he next. She nods her head to Giremi, "Yeah, thanks for the warning." Oh so sweet.
"I'll thank you kindly to keep your commentary to yourself. Eating this way keeps my face from twitching," Giremi replies to Aeriste calmly. His gaze skips back to Samantia. "You're welcome." Blandly polite.
"But *I'm* not kind." Aeriste doesn't seem too ruffled. "Didn't you hear Calliosae that one... well, several times? How does it twitch, anyway? Does it sort of start somewhere and spread out, or does it do it all at once like a great big sneeze, or?" He flashes Samantia a cheerful smile, friendly enough despite being a pain.
Samantia shrugs and tosses another fruit on the counter. The Baker turns to make sure she's not getting into trouble and then resumes rolling. "Twitches are really fascinating." SHe drawls sarcastically. "Where else do you twitch, Journeyman?"
"You could be," Giremi points out and eats his food however he damn well pleases. A bite at a time from each section of his plate. He offers no further commentary on twitching though his brow jumps a little at Samantie's rough treatment of the fruit. "That's not really an appropriate discussion for an apprentice."
"Never." But, red-faced - probably at Samantia's comment - Aeriste wanders over to get himself his own meal. Pastries, mostly, with a few token late-season asparaguses posing as proper nutrition and in no way making up for the rest.
Samantia snorts, "How not?" She asks, with the pugnacious innocence of youth. And then she realizes, and her nostrils flare as her nose wrinkles, "Oh, /nasty/. You old cooter, that's not what I meant at all." She resumes peeling with fervor. "Gross." She affirms as she speeds through another fruit. They're just going to get cooked down, who cares about a bruise or two.
"Then don't make smart remarks," Giremi says flatly and goes on eating. In fact he's actually eating a little on the fast side and he's ignoring his hides. The atmosphere in here likely not agreeing with the 'mark essays' idea.
"I thought it, too," Aeriste points out, even though he's still a little pink. He finally joins Giremi, mindful not to dust powdered sugar toward the paperwork. "Look, I won't ride you about your, uh, peculiarities. They're not *that* bad. I could probably learn something."
Samantia snorts. "Then you're a cooter too." She informs Aeriste waspishly. Of the baker she asks, "How many more of these do I gotta peel?" The Journeyman looks over and barks, "Keep peeling." Glaring, she resumes. "What are you learning?"
"If it's any consolation, I work on overcoming them," Giremi notes to Aeriste. "However, it's not something that I can change overnight." His eyes slip back over to Samantia, but he doesn't say anything this time, just concentrates on eating.
"I don't need to be consoled about anything." And to Samantia, Aeriste shrugs. "I'm not sure yet. Journeyman Giremi is trying to instill discipline upon my wayward organization. He gave me a ninety-five the other day, did you know?" He preens. "So it must be sticking, even though I've been a terrible pain. You might surpass me, though. What've you learned lately?"
Samantia looks Aeriste over and shrugs, "I learned you should never punch anyone until they show you their knot." Sage advice. She looks at the redfruit in her hand and then makes a face at it as she's peeling. "Hah, take this, Captain Deathsprout."
"Self-discipline can yield promising results," Giremi intones rather drably and finishes the last bite of food on his plate. Then using his napkin between himself and the dirtied plate, brings it to the sink. The leftovers follow. He makes a number of trips, very careful each time. "You might try 'never punch anyone except in self-defense'. If you get your hands broken, you won't be able to play anymore."
Aeriste stares at Samantia in a kind of horrified fascination. But he keeps his tone pleasantly bland. "Who did you punch?" True to his word, he makes no remark about Giremi's leftover disposal process.
Samantia says loftily, "I was defending Hall secrets, that's a worthy cause. And I'm a singer, I don't need my hands to sing, so if I break a finger or two, I'll be okay." All the wisdom of her fifteen turns speaking here, folks. To Aeriste, she lays a finger against the side of her nose and winks, "That's for me to know."
"If you plan to make Journeyman, you'll need to play at least a little. Enough." Giremi's returned to the table and is gathering up his hides. "And you should only defend if you're being attacked. Defending secrets can be done with words. You're a harper after all. Learn to use them." With a polite nod he excuses himself: "Good evening to both of you. Samantia, I hope you manage to survive the week. Aeriste, see you in class tomorrow." And with that, the Journeyman is heading out.
When: 17:00, 10/26/16
Where: Kitchen, Harper Hall
What: Giremi's trying to have a nice quiet meal with his hidework. Aeriste and Samantia foil his plans.
Kitchen, Harper Hall
The very stone of the kitchen walls seems inbued with the fragrances of turns of food preparation. Enticing aromas drift from the direction of the large hearths built into one wall. Constantly fueled, even in the height of summer, they provide the radiant heat for the two ovens inset in the wall close to them. Large wooden tables, gouged and nicked by multitudes of zealous drudges hard at work under the watchful eyes of cooks, take up much of the floor space. They almost groan with the effort of supporting a burden of produce, herbs, spices and other foodstuffs in various stages of preparations. Large cupboards contain utensils, pots, pans, and other items needed to keep the residents of the Halls full and happy. Off in a fairly secluded alcove are several worn-out, beaten-up looking, but immensely comfortable, large chairs where apprentices gather to talk and complain.
A staircase to the northwest leads up to the dining room, making food service convenient and rapid. A stairway to the northeast leads you back to the courtyard and a short flight of steps to the west leads down to the lower hallway. 'Places' can be seen in the alcoves that tuck in around the edges of the room. (+help places)
Early evening or late afternoon? It's kind of a strange hour to define. Either way, dinner is actually /soon/ but Giremi's eschewing the dining hall and tucked away in one of the kitchen nooks. He's got the table precisely set, with a mat under the plate, the cutlery gleamingly shiny and three serving dishes in front of him, from which he is meticulously taking portions and aranging them on his plate. Nearby, a stack of hides but pushed well out of harm's way of any spilling.
Samantia is being hauled into the kitchens by an angry baker, "And you'll be helping us replace those pies you stole, Apprentice!" She's yelling at the girl, who meekly stalks along, though she licks her lips proudly like the cat who knocked over the milk carton. "Of course, Journeyman." She says, her voice just the right ton of ashamed and contrite. None of that tone is anywhere on her face.
Giremi continues arranging his meal and looks up and over at the kerfluffle. "What now?" he asks the Baker, eyes shifting to the other knotted Crafter. After a moment, he reaches for the hides, picks them up and moves them to the far side of his plate well out of reach.
The Baker journeyman dips her head respectfully to Giremi. "Caught her out in the kitchen garden eating a pie, and what had gone missing just a half-candle before but the very pies I'd just baked?" Samantia just smirks, rubbing her hands together. "Well then, let's make some pie!" She proclaims, and the Journeyman scoffs. That is, until Tia dives her hands into the flour bowl and sends a plume of white rising up into the air. Then, she just stares in stunned silence before diving foward. "Ack! Not like /that/." She squeals, scandalized.
And Giremi doesn't look much more pleased, eyes crossing as the flour goes flying. His fork pauses midway down to a neat pile of fanned, thinly sliced beets. "Faranth," he mutters under his breath. "Samantia, are you seriously aiming to get sent home or locked up with just bread and water?" There's an edge of impatience in his voice.
"Is it true, then," Aeriste inquires brightly from the doorway, "That there's a room in the Harper Hall where they string bad apprentices up by their toes?" He watches the goings-on from a safe distance: no flour is going to muss *him* up, thank you!
Samantia, now with flour clinging to her lank hair and streaking her cheeks and nose, twists to look at Giremi. "I'm not aiming for anything, i'm baking!" She proclaims proudly with two fistfuls of flour. These she slaps down on the rolling block. "Where's the dough? I'll roll the crust." She reaches for the big wooden rolling pin, but the baker slams her hand down on it first. "You'll do no such thing. You can wash and peel the redfruit." Defeated, Tia glowers at the woman. "But peelings the DULL part." "Exactly." As she stalks to the barrel of fresh fruit from the orchards, she sticks her tongue out at Aeriste. Ooh, spiteful
"Ah, no. Just one of the spare rooms. Nothing interesting in it," Giremi answers Aeriste, turning slightly from his nook seat towards the Senior Apprentice." Samantia's shenanigans are eyed again and his hides pushed all the further towards the wall. "Would you care to join me Aeriste?" he offers to the young man and finally takes up his knife to slice off a neat square of beets and only beets.
"Is it safe?" Aeriste asks bluntly, edging sideways and away from the ominously-tongue-sticking-out Samantia with his hands raised in an 'I surrender' sort of way. "She's probably not silly enough to pelt you - us - with condiments, but one bad aim and we're all doomed, right? Oh, is it beet salad today? You really *do* like to keep things ordered, don't you?"
Samantia sniffs as she drags the fruit over the wash basin and begins dunking each fruit. For a moment she looks like she is seriously considering chucking a redfruit at Aeriste's head but then she simply picks up the peeling knife and begins stripping the skin off of it, glowering at the other apprentice like she's imagining it as his head. Safe? Never.
Actually it looks more like steamed beets, steamed carrots, white rivergrains and a little bit of roasted wherry on the serving dishes Remi's got. Everything is very plain and undressed and on his plate it's all neatly separated. The Journeyman sends a brief look Samantia's way. "Mind your fingers," he suggests to her.
"She's going to skin us in our sleep," Aeriste states with absolute certanity. But he does spare another glance for Giremi's plate. "And Faranth's great gold back*side*, you're going to eat that, sir," because if he's going to say something like that, he may as well tack on a title lest *he* get served bread and water, "Not archive it. Your stomach doesn't care if it's all alphebetized."
Samantia lets out an overloud laugh of amusement at Aeriste's second comment. "Never mind, you're alright." She decides of him, tossing the first peeled fruit onto the counter to be cut up and boiled down for pie filling, starting ont he next. She nods her head to Giremi, "Yeah, thanks for the warning." Oh so sweet.
"I'll thank you kindly to keep your commentary to yourself. Eating this way keeps my face from twitching," Giremi replies to Aeriste calmly. His gaze skips back to Samantia. "You're welcome." Blandly polite.
"But *I'm* not kind." Aeriste doesn't seem too ruffled. "Didn't you hear Calliosae that one... well, several times? How does it twitch, anyway? Does it sort of start somewhere and spread out, or does it do it all at once like a great big sneeze, or?" He flashes Samantia a cheerful smile, friendly enough despite being a pain.
Samantia shrugs and tosses another fruit on the counter. The Baker turns to make sure she's not getting into trouble and then resumes rolling. "Twitches are really fascinating." SHe drawls sarcastically. "Where else do you twitch, Journeyman?"
"You could be," Giremi points out and eats his food however he damn well pleases. A bite at a time from each section of his plate. He offers no further commentary on twitching though his brow jumps a little at Samantie's rough treatment of the fruit. "That's not really an appropriate discussion for an apprentice."
"Never." But, red-faced - probably at Samantia's comment - Aeriste wanders over to get himself his own meal. Pastries, mostly, with a few token late-season asparaguses posing as proper nutrition and in no way making up for the rest.
Samantia snorts, "How not?" She asks, with the pugnacious innocence of youth. And then she realizes, and her nostrils flare as her nose wrinkles, "Oh, /nasty/. You old cooter, that's not what I meant at all." She resumes peeling with fervor. "Gross." She affirms as she speeds through another fruit. They're just going to get cooked down, who cares about a bruise or two.
"Then don't make smart remarks," Giremi says flatly and goes on eating. In fact he's actually eating a little on the fast side and he's ignoring his hides. The atmosphere in here likely not agreeing with the 'mark essays' idea.
"I thought it, too," Aeriste points out, even though he's still a little pink. He finally joins Giremi, mindful not to dust powdered sugar toward the paperwork. "Look, I won't ride you about your, uh, peculiarities. They're not *that* bad. I could probably learn something."
Samantia snorts. "Then you're a cooter too." She informs Aeriste waspishly. Of the baker she asks, "How many more of these do I gotta peel?" The Journeyman looks over and barks, "Keep peeling." Glaring, she resumes. "What are you learning?"
"If it's any consolation, I work on overcoming them," Giremi notes to Aeriste. "However, it's not something that I can change overnight." His eyes slip back over to Samantia, but he doesn't say anything this time, just concentrates on eating.
"I don't need to be consoled about anything." And to Samantia, Aeriste shrugs. "I'm not sure yet. Journeyman Giremi is trying to instill discipline upon my wayward organization. He gave me a ninety-five the other day, did you know?" He preens. "So it must be sticking, even though I've been a terrible pain. You might surpass me, though. What've you learned lately?"
Samantia looks Aeriste over and shrugs, "I learned you should never punch anyone until they show you their knot." Sage advice. She looks at the redfruit in her hand and then makes a face at it as she's peeling. "Hah, take this, Captain Deathsprout."
"Self-discipline can yield promising results," Giremi intones rather drably and finishes the last bite of food on his plate. Then using his napkin between himself and the dirtied plate, brings it to the sink. The leftovers follow. He makes a number of trips, very careful each time. "You might try 'never punch anyone except in self-defense'. If you get your hands broken, you won't be able to play anymore."
Aeriste stares at Samantia in a kind of horrified fascination. But he keeps his tone pleasantly bland. "Who did you punch?" True to his word, he makes no remark about Giremi's leftover disposal process.
Samantia says loftily, "I was defending Hall secrets, that's a worthy cause. And I'm a singer, I don't need my hands to sing, so if I break a finger or two, I'll be okay." All the wisdom of her fifteen turns speaking here, folks. To Aeriste, she lays a finger against the side of her nose and winks, "That's for me to know."
"If you plan to make Journeyman, you'll need to play at least a little. Enough." Giremi's returned to the table and is gathering up his hides. "And you should only defend if you're being attacked. Defending secrets can be done with words. You're a harper after all. Learn to use them." With a polite nod he excuses himself: "Good evening to both of you. Samantia, I hope you manage to survive the week. Aeriste, see you in class tomorrow." And with that, the Journeyman is heading out.