Log: Are Libraries Appropriate Places For Dancing?
Who: Addiene, P'draig
When: day 1, month 1, turn 22 of the 10th interval
Where: Library, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy meets book-hunting Addiene and winds up dancing in a library, which may or may not lead to banishment. One thing is sure: P'draig's got his flirty mojo back.
Library, Ista Weyr(#264RJ)
This is a cavern, chosen for its drier atmosphere, houses rows and rows of shelving containing bound hide volumes on all manner of study. Everything from Weyr records to sheet music to dress patterns to novels can be found here. Tidy labeled recesses against one wall serve as storage for stacks of neatly rolls hides. Small circular tables are off to the left side of the room, prim and functional chairs surrounding each, providing a place for quiet work either along or in groups. There are a few occasional chairs are well, upholstered with stripes of Ista's black and orange, a comfortable place for a person to curl up and do some reading.
Near the entryway is a cart with a water pitcher and a few carved wooden cups, and a few light blankets are hung on pegs for those more accustomed to the warmer Istan clime so prevalent on the surface. A mild breeze blows through the room from the lower caverns and to the west stands the wide door of the meeting room.
Comfy chair rather than table, casual posture, P'draig looks pretty at ease off to one side of the big room tucked up against a bookshelf. Shorts and a half-buttoned shirt make up his attire, sandals actually on feet, a big book of what looks like room designs spread across his lap, the pictures brightly inked and painstakingly so by whatever harper helped with the publication.
Addiene doesn't exactly talk to herself as she wanders along beside shelves, but the Harper does murmur an occasional single note to a volume each time she steps closer to see what her chosen book is about, dismissing or appropriating a text with lower and higher-pitched notes accordingly. Just as she passes by P'draig, she sidesteps and swings her hips to avoid clipping the edge of the edge of the book in his lap by a decent distance, which almost unbalances the collection in her arms. The automatic, "Sorry," as she goes by is quickly followed by, "Shit!" and then /another/ oath for the curse itself as she adjusts books to keep them all steady.
Hips. Swinging around the edge of his book. That's one way to grab P'draig's attention. Up comes his gaze to roam up towards the harper's face and then they widen and a long tanned arm flings outward towards that stack of books to prevent a tumble. "Whoa, you okay?" he asks promptly, grin lopsided. "That's a lot of books you've got there."
Steadying herself on her feet after a moment of unbalance, Addiene stares first at books, then at the arrangement of her own arms. It being obvious that she's not the only one keeping texts from falling to the floor, she leans as though to look round the pile, even though she can see perfectly well over the top of them. "Yes, thank you," she assures P'draig, quickly arranging everything to prevent a fall. "I was going to go after more, too," she says with a rueful smile, "but I think I'd best leave it for now and look at what I've got here. Oh, and do excuse the language."
"I've heard plenty worse," P'draig claims and tilts a look over towards those shelves. "If you want, I can keep an eye on those for you while you go shelf-diving?" he proposes, brows up, arm retreating. "Oh and I'm P'draig by the way. Brown Jekzith's." He starts to stick a hand out then laughs. "Should probably wait on that 'til you've got a hand free."
Addiene unwisely, and again perhaps automatically, shifts the weight of those books with what looks like intent to shake hands anyway, but then she must realize that it's not the best idea and bends to set them down by her feet. "Addiene, Journeyman Harper," she returns with a bright smile, hand actually offered over this time. "To be fair, if I find any more that I want, I'll probably never leave. I came here to ask something of one of your Harpers, but never actually made it out of here," she admits.
P'draig takes the offered hand and gives it a firm shake, smile curling up in full. "Nice to meet you Addiene." The brownrider laughs though at that confession, sneaks a peek down at the books. "ANy particular topic, or just the general fascination for something to read? And harper, maybe you know or knew my brother? Though it's been a while since he was at the Hall. Giremi's his name. He made Master last turnover."
"And yourself as well, P'draig," Addiene returns, feet shuffling closer to books so that the edge of one boot touches spines. "I wished to see if the region in which a song is written has any influence on its character; particularly its beat. Perhaps something that has been done before, but nothing I've studied in great depth myself, until now." She hesitates, slowly confessing, "The name is familiar, but I'm afraid I can't say that I know him well. Know of, rather than actually know well, you... know." Laughing, she shrugs and plays up the unfortunate phrasing instead of ignoring it.
"Huh, you know, I've never really thought about that before," P'draig confesses, head tilting to the side, expression curious. "I'll bet Remi could expound about that kind of thing at length though," he adds with a wry chuckle. "Mm, makes sense. a lot of harpers come and go through the Hall and I think you might be a bit young to've been an apprentice with him?" Brows lift and his gaze roams her face again, perhaps to try to gauge her age.
"I tend to do as much as expected and no more when it comes to musical theory, beyond the learning and teaching," Addiene replies. "And probably, yes - I expect a Master would be able to give a better answer than the one I'll eventually reach," she adds with a quirk of her lips. "But if I get something for people to dance to out of this, I'll have achieved something." She waits a moment, as though expecting there to be a guess made regarding her age, dark eyes dancing, yet she gives in and supplies, "I've twenty-four turns."
"And Remi really likes that stuff. Theory. I think I'm more in your boat, or would be if I were a harper. Give me the actual singing and playing," P'draig says with amusement. "It's more that Remi can be kind of uh -- obssessive," he notes about his brother's tendencies where work is concerned. "And if you're looking for dancing ... well, that I can really get behind." Laughter for that pause and the brownrider nods. "I was thinking around that. Remi's a bit older. Thirty-one."
"Really - we have only just met and now we're in a boat?" Addiene teases, folding her arms and rocking back on her heels. "Obsessive can be good for a Harper. I think we might all be obsessive over one thing or another; the Hall is just lucky it doesn't have dozens of apprentices all enamoured with the same thing." She bends again, reaching to pick up the topmost book and flip it open; scans pages until she finds something that catches her eye. "Do you think it appropriate to dance in a library?" the Journeyman questions lightly, focus on the page she's stopped at.
That teasing makes Paddy laugh again. "If you like sailing, we could be," he jokes in turn, tone light. "And you're right, if it was all archives and theory ..." one hand lifts waggles back and forth in a so-so motion, then tilt his own book up a little. "I've been looking at ideas for finishing off the decorations for my restaurant." While she's scanning the book she just picked up. The question though, brings his gaze up again and his hand rubs across his chin. "You know, I'm pretty sure that the harper who taught me to dance said something about it really not being so, but sometimes, some thing are worth risking a little impropriety for?"
"Hmm, I'll remember that," Addiene says deadpan over the top of her book, text inching a fraction higher to try and hide her smirk. "You own a restaurant?" she asks, gaze momentarily wandering from the page. "I don't know - being sent back to the Reaches in disgrace by Ista sounds like an adventure worth having," she muses. "However, if there were to be dancing, I would have to sing unless you can read music?" She turns the book around to face the brownrider, bars and notes upside down until she remembers to turn it the other way.
Laughter again and P'draig nods. "Yes. It's about to open for the first time really soon. It's ... a new venture," the rider explains then blinks up at the harper. "Would it really wind up in disgrace?" he asks and pushes his book aside, sets it on the arm of the chair and gets to his feet, squinting down at the page she's turned his way, grinning as she turns it around the right way. "A little ... but not all that well. Mostly I can sing things I know." But yes, he's holding a hand out palm up. "Want to risk it?"
"It might do. I can sing obnoxiously loud," Addiene jokes, flipping the book back round and taking the time to scan the page a few times over before snapping it shut. "Well, you'll pick it up. Which I suppose you can take to mean that we're risking it," she declares. The book gets set down atop the little pile again and she reaches to set her hand in his. "I lead with the song, you lead with the steps and I should think we'll be even somewhere in all of that. And if we end up with something new, you can go dance for your customers when your restaurant opens."
"That works out well if you're aiming for risky and disgrace," P'draig quips back and grins at her, fingers closing around the harper's as he adopts the correct stance for dancing per the time signature of the music. He might not be an expert, but he's got enough passing knowledge likely derived from listening to his brother, to fake it. "I can live with even ... and getting somewhere," the brownrider replies, winks at her, laughs yet again. "Somehow, I think they'd probably rather I cook. Speaking of which, have you ever tried bacon-wrapped scallops?"
"Getting where, exactly?" Addiene queries, trying for deadpan again and losing to the grin that demands to be set free. "Can't say that I have, no, but then in some situations there's rarely a vast menu from which to choose." She's had the sense to not pick something ridiculously fast or very rowdy given present surroundings and doesn't actually bother with the words of the song, just the melody and not all that loud to begin with; a relatively simple, predictable beat there.
"Depends on where we /want/ to get to?" P'draig replies, not bothering to hide his own grin. "Well then, you should either come to the opening, or come down to the place for a sneak peek preview, because I promise you, the flavor in that dish is out of this world," the brownrider says earnestly. She starts to sing and Paddy shuts up in favor of the simple two-step the music calls for, which earns them a brief double-take from a pair of residents sitting at one of the tables. The brownrider pays them absolutely no mind. He's not the most graceful dancer in the world, but neither does he have anything to be ashamed of. Whoever taught him knew their stuff.
Somehow, Addiene manages to weave, "Would getting wherever that is be appropriate for a library?" along with the melody, though it makes for odd gaps between words and a silly lilt to the question that prompts enough laughter for her to drop a bar and filter back in halfway through the next. Her voice goes a little off-key when she struggles not to laugh any more at the odd look from those residents, so she opts for more putting the wrong words to music instead. "If they decide not to banish me from Ista, I'd be glad to."
Set.
"It /could/ be," P'draig answers, though the twinkle in his eyes gives way to a slightly more focused expression. "But probably not." Barely contained laughter sets him off again and he doesn't bother trying to hold in his own chuckles. "Somehow, I think you're safe for now. But when we're done with disgrace and banishment here, I'd be happy to show you the place and give you a taste of things to come."
Addiene concentrates enough to carry right on singing mostly without any hiccups until she reaches the end of the song, just the grin to give away the internal struggle not to laugh or say anything until she's finished and can't accidentally inflict her response on those others present. Eventually, she replies, "Then we should probably be good, put books back and not have the shelves," that makes her pause and her grin widen just a bit, "suffer through our potentially getting somewhere. As long as I'm safe for now."
Dancing goes on while there's singing to dance to and here and there, P'draig hums a bar or two, catching on. Of course, he winds up laughing again, very merrily and earns himself an irritated "SHHH!" from another reader in the library and lifts a hand to cover his mouth, makes big eyes over the top of it. "I'll help you put them away then," he says seriously about the books, bends to pick a couple up, straightens, but then leans closer and says quietly: "Though I can pretty much reassure you about the shelves. They're very sturdy." Another wink and then he steps away to dutifully shelve.
The Harper's response doesn't make it in time to be whispered low and not inadvertently broadcast to the rest of the room as before, so Addiene hides behind one book in an effort to smother her laughter and eyes mock-daggers over the top of it as she wanders past P'draig on her way to putting books back in their correct places. It's upon her return journey that she murmurs, "You know Harpers - we do like to have proof of things. But perhaps not when there are people evidently hoping to Faranth that we leave shortly." And off she goes, swinging her hips again, right out of the library, just maybe assuming that he'll follow.
Books squared away and P'draig was about to offer the harper his arm when she goes /swinging/ by him like that and well heck, his teeth bite down on the first quip that springs to mind as he follows after. It's not until they're out in the bowl that he says almost too chipperly: "Proof's in the pudding!" which hopefully will lead to more laughter as he leads the way down to the beach and down the length of black sand to the house on the beach overlooking the sea, where a very /full/ tour might just well be in the offing. Including proof.
When: day 1, month 1, turn 22 of the 10th interval
Where: Library, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy meets book-hunting Addiene and winds up dancing in a library, which may or may not lead to banishment. One thing is sure: P'draig's got his flirty mojo back.
Library, Ista Weyr(#264RJ)
This is a cavern, chosen for its drier atmosphere, houses rows and rows of shelving containing bound hide volumes on all manner of study. Everything from Weyr records to sheet music to dress patterns to novels can be found here. Tidy labeled recesses against one wall serve as storage for stacks of neatly rolls hides. Small circular tables are off to the left side of the room, prim and functional chairs surrounding each, providing a place for quiet work either along or in groups. There are a few occasional chairs are well, upholstered with stripes of Ista's black and orange, a comfortable place for a person to curl up and do some reading.
Near the entryway is a cart with a water pitcher and a few carved wooden cups, and a few light blankets are hung on pegs for those more accustomed to the warmer Istan clime so prevalent on the surface. A mild breeze blows through the room from the lower caverns and to the west stands the wide door of the meeting room.
Comfy chair rather than table, casual posture, P'draig looks pretty at ease off to one side of the big room tucked up against a bookshelf. Shorts and a half-buttoned shirt make up his attire, sandals actually on feet, a big book of what looks like room designs spread across his lap, the pictures brightly inked and painstakingly so by whatever harper helped with the publication.
Addiene doesn't exactly talk to herself as she wanders along beside shelves, but the Harper does murmur an occasional single note to a volume each time she steps closer to see what her chosen book is about, dismissing or appropriating a text with lower and higher-pitched notes accordingly. Just as she passes by P'draig, she sidesteps and swings her hips to avoid clipping the edge of the edge of the book in his lap by a decent distance, which almost unbalances the collection in her arms. The automatic, "Sorry," as she goes by is quickly followed by, "Shit!" and then /another/ oath for the curse itself as she adjusts books to keep them all steady.
Hips. Swinging around the edge of his book. That's one way to grab P'draig's attention. Up comes his gaze to roam up towards the harper's face and then they widen and a long tanned arm flings outward towards that stack of books to prevent a tumble. "Whoa, you okay?" he asks promptly, grin lopsided. "That's a lot of books you've got there."
Steadying herself on her feet after a moment of unbalance, Addiene stares first at books, then at the arrangement of her own arms. It being obvious that she's not the only one keeping texts from falling to the floor, she leans as though to look round the pile, even though she can see perfectly well over the top of them. "Yes, thank you," she assures P'draig, quickly arranging everything to prevent a fall. "I was going to go after more, too," she says with a rueful smile, "but I think I'd best leave it for now and look at what I've got here. Oh, and do excuse the language."
"I've heard plenty worse," P'draig claims and tilts a look over towards those shelves. "If you want, I can keep an eye on those for you while you go shelf-diving?" he proposes, brows up, arm retreating. "Oh and I'm P'draig by the way. Brown Jekzith's." He starts to stick a hand out then laughs. "Should probably wait on that 'til you've got a hand free."
Addiene unwisely, and again perhaps automatically, shifts the weight of those books with what looks like intent to shake hands anyway, but then she must realize that it's not the best idea and bends to set them down by her feet. "Addiene, Journeyman Harper," she returns with a bright smile, hand actually offered over this time. "To be fair, if I find any more that I want, I'll probably never leave. I came here to ask something of one of your Harpers, but never actually made it out of here," she admits.
P'draig takes the offered hand and gives it a firm shake, smile curling up in full. "Nice to meet you Addiene." The brownrider laughs though at that confession, sneaks a peek down at the books. "ANy particular topic, or just the general fascination for something to read? And harper, maybe you know or knew my brother? Though it's been a while since he was at the Hall. Giremi's his name. He made Master last turnover."
"And yourself as well, P'draig," Addiene returns, feet shuffling closer to books so that the edge of one boot touches spines. "I wished to see if the region in which a song is written has any influence on its character; particularly its beat. Perhaps something that has been done before, but nothing I've studied in great depth myself, until now." She hesitates, slowly confessing, "The name is familiar, but I'm afraid I can't say that I know him well. Know of, rather than actually know well, you... know." Laughing, she shrugs and plays up the unfortunate phrasing instead of ignoring it.
"Huh, you know, I've never really thought about that before," P'draig confesses, head tilting to the side, expression curious. "I'll bet Remi could expound about that kind of thing at length though," he adds with a wry chuckle. "Mm, makes sense. a lot of harpers come and go through the Hall and I think you might be a bit young to've been an apprentice with him?" Brows lift and his gaze roams her face again, perhaps to try to gauge her age.
"I tend to do as much as expected and no more when it comes to musical theory, beyond the learning and teaching," Addiene replies. "And probably, yes - I expect a Master would be able to give a better answer than the one I'll eventually reach," she adds with a quirk of her lips. "But if I get something for people to dance to out of this, I'll have achieved something." She waits a moment, as though expecting there to be a guess made regarding her age, dark eyes dancing, yet she gives in and supplies, "I've twenty-four turns."
"And Remi really likes that stuff. Theory. I think I'm more in your boat, or would be if I were a harper. Give me the actual singing and playing," P'draig says with amusement. "It's more that Remi can be kind of uh -- obssessive," he notes about his brother's tendencies where work is concerned. "And if you're looking for dancing ... well, that I can really get behind." Laughter for that pause and the brownrider nods. "I was thinking around that. Remi's a bit older. Thirty-one."
"Really - we have only just met and now we're in a boat?" Addiene teases, folding her arms and rocking back on her heels. "Obsessive can be good for a Harper. I think we might all be obsessive over one thing or another; the Hall is just lucky it doesn't have dozens of apprentices all enamoured with the same thing." She bends again, reaching to pick up the topmost book and flip it open; scans pages until she finds something that catches her eye. "Do you think it appropriate to dance in a library?" the Journeyman questions lightly, focus on the page she's stopped at.
That teasing makes Paddy laugh again. "If you like sailing, we could be," he jokes in turn, tone light. "And you're right, if it was all archives and theory ..." one hand lifts waggles back and forth in a so-so motion, then tilt his own book up a little. "I've been looking at ideas for finishing off the decorations for my restaurant." While she's scanning the book she just picked up. The question though, brings his gaze up again and his hand rubs across his chin. "You know, I'm pretty sure that the harper who taught me to dance said something about it really not being so, but sometimes, some thing are worth risking a little impropriety for?"
"Hmm, I'll remember that," Addiene says deadpan over the top of her book, text inching a fraction higher to try and hide her smirk. "You own a restaurant?" she asks, gaze momentarily wandering from the page. "I don't know - being sent back to the Reaches in disgrace by Ista sounds like an adventure worth having," she muses. "However, if there were to be dancing, I would have to sing unless you can read music?" She turns the book around to face the brownrider, bars and notes upside down until she remembers to turn it the other way.
Laughter again and P'draig nods. "Yes. It's about to open for the first time really soon. It's ... a new venture," the rider explains then blinks up at the harper. "Would it really wind up in disgrace?" he asks and pushes his book aside, sets it on the arm of the chair and gets to his feet, squinting down at the page she's turned his way, grinning as she turns it around the right way. "A little ... but not all that well. Mostly I can sing things I know." But yes, he's holding a hand out palm up. "Want to risk it?"
"It might do. I can sing obnoxiously loud," Addiene jokes, flipping the book back round and taking the time to scan the page a few times over before snapping it shut. "Well, you'll pick it up. Which I suppose you can take to mean that we're risking it," she declares. The book gets set down atop the little pile again and she reaches to set her hand in his. "I lead with the song, you lead with the steps and I should think we'll be even somewhere in all of that. And if we end up with something new, you can go dance for your customers when your restaurant opens."
"That works out well if you're aiming for risky and disgrace," P'draig quips back and grins at her, fingers closing around the harper's as he adopts the correct stance for dancing per the time signature of the music. He might not be an expert, but he's got enough passing knowledge likely derived from listening to his brother, to fake it. "I can live with even ... and getting somewhere," the brownrider replies, winks at her, laughs yet again. "Somehow, I think they'd probably rather I cook. Speaking of which, have you ever tried bacon-wrapped scallops?"
"Getting where, exactly?" Addiene queries, trying for deadpan again and losing to the grin that demands to be set free. "Can't say that I have, no, but then in some situations there's rarely a vast menu from which to choose." She's had the sense to not pick something ridiculously fast or very rowdy given present surroundings and doesn't actually bother with the words of the song, just the melody and not all that loud to begin with; a relatively simple, predictable beat there.
"Depends on where we /want/ to get to?" P'draig replies, not bothering to hide his own grin. "Well then, you should either come to the opening, or come down to the place for a sneak peek preview, because I promise you, the flavor in that dish is out of this world," the brownrider says earnestly. She starts to sing and Paddy shuts up in favor of the simple two-step the music calls for, which earns them a brief double-take from a pair of residents sitting at one of the tables. The brownrider pays them absolutely no mind. He's not the most graceful dancer in the world, but neither does he have anything to be ashamed of. Whoever taught him knew their stuff.
Somehow, Addiene manages to weave, "Would getting wherever that is be appropriate for a library?" along with the melody, though it makes for odd gaps between words and a silly lilt to the question that prompts enough laughter for her to drop a bar and filter back in halfway through the next. Her voice goes a little off-key when she struggles not to laugh any more at the odd look from those residents, so she opts for more putting the wrong words to music instead. "If they decide not to banish me from Ista, I'd be glad to."
Set.
"It /could/ be," P'draig answers, though the twinkle in his eyes gives way to a slightly more focused expression. "But probably not." Barely contained laughter sets him off again and he doesn't bother trying to hold in his own chuckles. "Somehow, I think you're safe for now. But when we're done with disgrace and banishment here, I'd be happy to show you the place and give you a taste of things to come."
Addiene concentrates enough to carry right on singing mostly without any hiccups until she reaches the end of the song, just the grin to give away the internal struggle not to laugh or say anything until she's finished and can't accidentally inflict her response on those others present. Eventually, she replies, "Then we should probably be good, put books back and not have the shelves," that makes her pause and her grin widen just a bit, "suffer through our potentially getting somewhere. As long as I'm safe for now."
Dancing goes on while there's singing to dance to and here and there, P'draig hums a bar or two, catching on. Of course, he winds up laughing again, very merrily and earns himself an irritated "SHHH!" from another reader in the library and lifts a hand to cover his mouth, makes big eyes over the top of it. "I'll help you put them away then," he says seriously about the books, bends to pick a couple up, straightens, but then leans closer and says quietly: "Though I can pretty much reassure you about the shelves. They're very sturdy." Another wink and then he steps away to dutifully shelve.
The Harper's response doesn't make it in time to be whispered low and not inadvertently broadcast to the rest of the room as before, so Addiene hides behind one book in an effort to smother her laughter and eyes mock-daggers over the top of it as she wanders past P'draig on her way to putting books back in their correct places. It's upon her return journey that she murmurs, "You know Harpers - we do like to have proof of things. But perhaps not when there are people evidently hoping to Faranth that we leave shortly." And off she goes, swinging her hips again, right out of the library, just maybe assuming that he'll follow.
Books squared away and P'draig was about to offer the harper his arm when she goes /swinging/ by him like that and well heck, his teeth bite down on the first quip that springs to mind as he follows after. It's not until they're out in the bowl that he says almost too chipperly: "Proof's in the pudding!" which hopefully will lead to more laughter as he leads the way down to the beach and down the length of black sand to the house on the beach overlooking the sea, where a very /full/ tour might just well be in the offing. Including proof.