Log: Chat over Sweets
Who: N'thei, P'draig
When: Late evening, day 31, month 11, Turn 13, of the 10th Interval.
Where: Kitchens, High Reaches Weyr
What: Clutchsire and Weyrlingmaster meet properly for a fairly wide-ranging conversation, including the weather, family, 'Reaches Weyrwoman and sweets.
The hubbub of dinner prep and dinner washup has ebbed down, leaving just a few lingering dishwashers and a baker or two occupied in the endless task of making and kneading bread dough. Among these, one rider has slipped in, though P'draig is not immediately obvious as such, his knot clinging to his jacket rather than his shirt and said outer wear slung over a stool near him. With an apron on, a bowl of some kind of batter and a bowl of already prepped fruit giving off a spicy aroma, he looks almost like he's just one more kitchen worker with an evening shift, except that the clothing under the apron has that distinctive look of being the rest of a set of riding leathers. He's humming quietly as he works, spoon making slow circuits of the bowl.
Coming up from the living cavern, N'thei takes very little time to survey the room before he sets his course. A glance finds its way across the rider-turned-baker, brows drawn a mite closer together when he passes the man, but his steps lead pretty clearly toward one of the dishwashers, a pretty one a seemingly sweet-- though none too bright-- disposition. She brightens when she looks up to find the bronzerider's approach, calls out cheerfully, "N'thei! I put something aside for you..." Wiping her hands on her apron, she scuttles over toward a towel-covered plate not so very far from where P'draig is working.
P'draig looks up and over as the bronzerider passes, nodding politely, eyes tracking him a little as he makes his way over to the dishwasher. A slow grin curls up the corners of Paddy's mouth and he gives his batter another turn of the spoon, then starts mixing his fruit in. "Late dinner, or a treat for the clutchsire's rider?" he asks casually.
The girl is the one who answers, energetically; "It's dessert, those pastries we had? I didn't see N'thei around at dinner and I thought he'd like some." A pretty shade of crimson at being "caught" by the weyrlingmaster, she delivers the plate to N'thei and hurries back to her work, scrubbing and peering over at the two riders with distracting frequency. Leaning against the counter-top near where the girl got the plate, not far from P'draig, N'thei smiles gratitude her way before making a quiet comment to P'draig; "I find it's /always/ a good idea to make an ally in the kitchen, wherever you plan to spend any appreciable amount of time."
"Yep, those /were/ good," P'draig remarks folding fruit and batter together. "Very flakey pastry, spiced just right." He sneaks a backward look of his own after the girl as she blushes and shakes his head a little. "You won't find me disagreeing," the Weyrlingmaster replies, gaze shifting over to N'thei. "If you want I can slip you a few more names you might find useful. Worked as a Baker here for a while before I Impressed." He pours the fruity batter into a dish, then wipes his hands on his apron and offers one over to the big Reachian. "P'draig, brown Jekzith's, Weyrlingmaster, former Baker, former Reachian. You probably trained under my mother actually."
N'thei has already taken a bite, which makes everything he has to say for the first bend of conversation a little less than perfectly polite, but he tries; "Mm, N'thei. But you already knew that, I'm guessing. --I did. Emilly, was it? Nice woman." He rubs his fingers together quickly to kick some of the flakes of pastry off his fingers, manages to get a swallow in before he proceeds with a quick-firm handshake. "Still a baker at heart, it would seem. Or is Fort just that short-staffed?"
"Yep. Emilly. Father's G'rad, bronzerider, dunno if you know him." P'draig smiles a little for the 'nice' that describes his mother but doesn't remark further on his family, returning the handshake with matching firmness and a lingering trace of flour on his palm. "Baker at heart," he confirms. "They're used to putting up with me sneaking in after the rush." The brownrider gestures around the kitchen. "I figure I need to get it in now before those egg hatch. I'm too busy usually when I've got Weyrlings to train."
Shaking his head, N'thei returns to the way he'd been before, with his hips resting against the edge of the counter and his frame turned to where he can pretend to sneak looks at the dishwasher. "Heard the name, but I can't summon a face to put with it, sorry." Smiling apology, he finishes the rest of the little pastry in a quick bite; with profound delicacy for someone with such beefy fingers, he plucks the second dessert off the plate and brandishes it while he agrees, "I can only imagine. Our weyrlingmaster certainly seemed to have his hands full."
"It's a big Weyr." P'draig doesn't seem bothered by the lack of recognition and turns the dish a couple of times, knocks some bubbles out of it and holds up a finger. "Hold on a sec." Stepping away he slides the dish into one of the ovens then returns to start cleaning up his work area. "Mmm. Even with the smaller clutches, it's busy. Especially the early months." He pauses as he too leans a hip against the counter, arms folding across his chest. "So. What d'you think of Fort so far? I remember it being an interesting change. So much warmer."
"Think of Fort?" The question comes as a surprise to N'thei, who continues to chew on the pastry with his back teeth while he thinks it over with an enigmatic smile. "It's exactly how I always heard it was, the most decorated of the Weyrs. I haven't been at the Reaches but two and a half turns--" He breaks off his own thoughts, brows lifted, and just then offers the plate with the last remaining pastry toward P'draig. "They're pretty fine pastries, if you're interested in a late snack?"
"The most decorated. So it seems impressive?" That seems to amuse P'draig for some reason, then he nods. "Where from before that?" It's idle curiosity apparently that spurs the question and the brownrider's eyes drop down to the offered plate. "Sure, I'll take a bite or two, though I had a serving at dinner, and I've got that cake baking in the oven." His thumb jerks over his shoulder in the direction of said oven.
N'thei answers aimlessly, "Here and there." The diversion of an answer couples with a smile that suits it, friendly but not giving any more than that. He lets P'draig have the last dessert, set to slide the plate on to the counter next to him while his eyes travel on toward the cake oven. "Impressive. Friendly. Everyone's been very friendly. Warmer than the Reaches." Whether he means climate or people, hard to say.
"Bit of a wanderer huh?" P'draig's tone remains conversational, not really pressing for more there and he takes a bite or two of the offered pastry. "Your Wyaeth's part of new hope for Fort. Only makes sense really. They were friendly with me too down at Ista when Jekzith flew Nalaieth. And Ista .... way warmer than the Reaches." He laughs a little then, takes another bit from the pastry.
N'thei continues as conversationally, as small-talk; "I don't care for Ista over much. Too humid. But it does give a new sympathy for steamed vegetables." Done with his own dessert, he crosses his arms idly over his chest. "You're the one that was talking sense to Zahava at the Flight, the way I remember it? She said something about having to thank you, and it stands to reason that I should too."
"Me either to be honest. A trip to the beach now and then is nice, or to get drunk at the bar there. But it's too hot, the air's too heavy. Longest winter ever that one when Jek and I were at Ista, at least as far as the weather's concerned. Can't complain about the women though." His brows lift a little as N'thei hearkens back to the flight. "Yep. Seems like Ciath hit her pretty hard. She was my Weyrling ... couldn't not help y'know?" He seems bemused by the thanks but his head ducks once. "Sure - she's a friend too, Za."
N'thei ahhs his understanding, mild, and informs, "I can't say the same about her, that we're friends. We didn't hit it off really, Zahava and me. She's particularly businesslike." Where he lived before High Reaches is an untouchable subject, but his interpersonal relations with the goldrider? Sure, why not discuss it. "But Wyaeth gets on with Ciath, so that's all that matters really. That and free food and pretty girls. Simple pleasures, huh?"
"Wouldn't expect that quite so soon. And it must've been a lurch for her, so recently weyrmated to wake up next to a complete stranger." P'draig's voice is even, musing lightly on the situation. "And yeah, seems like it tends to go that way. The dragons, they clicke, come together and then ... drift apart again. Jek's all into Azath, the green he caught last now." The Weyrlingmaster laughs merrily at the last. "Best kind really eh?" The mirth continues to curl Paddy's mouth upward. "Easier that way too. No complications."
N'thei chuckles roughly; "Oh, mustn't it have been at that." But he doesn't seem to mind so much, the whole situation between himself and the goldrider, ends his thoughts with an unconcerned shrug. "At any rate. Do you come much to the Reaches these days? Not so many friendly girls there now. Mostly just the cold women, like the ice gets into their veins and stays there. Good to have an excuse to get out, especially with this damn cromcoal situation."
That earns a close look from the brownrider, the shrug noted with a slight lift of his brows and he turns back to the plate in front of him to finish off the dessert. "I visit my parents at least once a month, more often when there's no Weyrlings. My littlest sister is still up there too. Funny you should say the girls aren't friendly ... wouldn't say that about most of the ones I know there. 'Course the Weyrwoman ... that's another story. She's a piece of work. Haven't spoken much more than a few words to her though in Turns." A grimace twists his face. "Yeah, can't really avoid the talk about all that. It's uncomfortable, even here to think about it. I worry. Hope it gets worked out soon."
N'thei raises his eyebrows, holds them up for a spell, then melts his expression into a smile that smooths away the beginnings of some very rough edges. "Don't take this the wrong way, sir, but that's not exactly the best way to keep the conversation smooth and pleasant. I expect every rider takes umbrage to the implication that their Weyrwoman is..." He waves his fingers toward P'draig, indicating only what the brownrider's just said. Then, back to lighter, easier subjects; "I just hope it's worked out before the eggs hatch and I can't come up with a respectable excuse to take advantage of another Weyr's hospitality. Imagine a Reaches winter with minimal coal for heating?" He chatters his teeth for dramatic effect.
P'draig only laughs again. "No didn't mean it that way. She's got spirit, Satiet. Met her way back when on a visit home, when she was just a Weyrling and I was still an Apprentice. Never been quite so unsettled by a girl before. So. Like I said. She's something else. Though 'friendly' isn't how I'd describe her." He pushes the empty plate away a little and tilts a look over towards the oven, sniffing experimentally. "Not quite done," he announces then makes another face. "I'm worried about my folks and that winter without good heat, yeah. Figure if it gets too awful maybe they can come here. My weyr's big and there'll be the baby for Mum to coo over."
"I imagine a lot of people are starting to look for winter alternatives. Won't High Reaches look strange with no one living there until the spring thaw." N'thei finds amusement in the idea, but it's more bitter than funny. With an inexpert sniff, he just has to agree with the whole cake situation, being in no place to argue, and rocks away from the counter to straighten his posture. "I best be headed back, cold or not. Though it should be a compliment that it's with a heavy heart, and a strong wish I could have some of that fine-smelling cake."
"That's something ... I'd rather not imagine and I'll join you in hoping things get worked out. For all I've lived here a long time, Reaches is still home in a lot of ways." P'draig cocks a look over at the Reachian bronzerider again. "How about I bring you some then? Little bit of friendly warmth from Fort, sort of like a welcome gift or something." He waves one hand vaguely, laughing again, a little self-deprecatingly. "Clear skies back, N'thei and good to talk to you. If you see any of my family, before I do, please let them know I'm thinking of them. See you soon."
N'thei answers amiably, "I'll set aside a glass of milk just for it." On his way past the dishwasher, a girl who has now made every conceivable excuse to linger and watch the two riders talk, he ticks a wink and slips on his coat, headed to the caverns. "Good to meet you properly, P'draig. Nice to know Wyaeth's babes will be in good hands." With a wave, he departs.
When: Late evening, day 31, month 11, Turn 13, of the 10th Interval.
Where: Kitchens, High Reaches Weyr
What: Clutchsire and Weyrlingmaster meet properly for a fairly wide-ranging conversation, including the weather, family, 'Reaches Weyrwoman and sweets.
The hubbub of dinner prep and dinner washup has ebbed down, leaving just a few lingering dishwashers and a baker or two occupied in the endless task of making and kneading bread dough. Among these, one rider has slipped in, though P'draig is not immediately obvious as such, his knot clinging to his jacket rather than his shirt and said outer wear slung over a stool near him. With an apron on, a bowl of some kind of batter and a bowl of already prepped fruit giving off a spicy aroma, he looks almost like he's just one more kitchen worker with an evening shift, except that the clothing under the apron has that distinctive look of being the rest of a set of riding leathers. He's humming quietly as he works, spoon making slow circuits of the bowl.
Coming up from the living cavern, N'thei takes very little time to survey the room before he sets his course. A glance finds its way across the rider-turned-baker, brows drawn a mite closer together when he passes the man, but his steps lead pretty clearly toward one of the dishwashers, a pretty one a seemingly sweet-- though none too bright-- disposition. She brightens when she looks up to find the bronzerider's approach, calls out cheerfully, "N'thei! I put something aside for you..." Wiping her hands on her apron, she scuttles over toward a towel-covered plate not so very far from where P'draig is working.
P'draig looks up and over as the bronzerider passes, nodding politely, eyes tracking him a little as he makes his way over to the dishwasher. A slow grin curls up the corners of Paddy's mouth and he gives his batter another turn of the spoon, then starts mixing his fruit in. "Late dinner, or a treat for the clutchsire's rider?" he asks casually.
The girl is the one who answers, energetically; "It's dessert, those pastries we had? I didn't see N'thei around at dinner and I thought he'd like some." A pretty shade of crimson at being "caught" by the weyrlingmaster, she delivers the plate to N'thei and hurries back to her work, scrubbing and peering over at the two riders with distracting frequency. Leaning against the counter-top near where the girl got the plate, not far from P'draig, N'thei smiles gratitude her way before making a quiet comment to P'draig; "I find it's /always/ a good idea to make an ally in the kitchen, wherever you plan to spend any appreciable amount of time."
"Yep, those /were/ good," P'draig remarks folding fruit and batter together. "Very flakey pastry, spiced just right." He sneaks a backward look of his own after the girl as she blushes and shakes his head a little. "You won't find me disagreeing," the Weyrlingmaster replies, gaze shifting over to N'thei. "If you want I can slip you a few more names you might find useful. Worked as a Baker here for a while before I Impressed." He pours the fruity batter into a dish, then wipes his hands on his apron and offers one over to the big Reachian. "P'draig, brown Jekzith's, Weyrlingmaster, former Baker, former Reachian. You probably trained under my mother actually."
N'thei has already taken a bite, which makes everything he has to say for the first bend of conversation a little less than perfectly polite, but he tries; "Mm, N'thei. But you already knew that, I'm guessing. --I did. Emilly, was it? Nice woman." He rubs his fingers together quickly to kick some of the flakes of pastry off his fingers, manages to get a swallow in before he proceeds with a quick-firm handshake. "Still a baker at heart, it would seem. Or is Fort just that short-staffed?"
"Yep. Emilly. Father's G'rad, bronzerider, dunno if you know him." P'draig smiles a little for the 'nice' that describes his mother but doesn't remark further on his family, returning the handshake with matching firmness and a lingering trace of flour on his palm. "Baker at heart," he confirms. "They're used to putting up with me sneaking in after the rush." The brownrider gestures around the kitchen. "I figure I need to get it in now before those egg hatch. I'm too busy usually when I've got Weyrlings to train."
Shaking his head, N'thei returns to the way he'd been before, with his hips resting against the edge of the counter and his frame turned to where he can pretend to sneak looks at the dishwasher. "Heard the name, but I can't summon a face to put with it, sorry." Smiling apology, he finishes the rest of the little pastry in a quick bite; with profound delicacy for someone with such beefy fingers, he plucks the second dessert off the plate and brandishes it while he agrees, "I can only imagine. Our weyrlingmaster certainly seemed to have his hands full."
"It's a big Weyr." P'draig doesn't seem bothered by the lack of recognition and turns the dish a couple of times, knocks some bubbles out of it and holds up a finger. "Hold on a sec." Stepping away he slides the dish into one of the ovens then returns to start cleaning up his work area. "Mmm. Even with the smaller clutches, it's busy. Especially the early months." He pauses as he too leans a hip against the counter, arms folding across his chest. "So. What d'you think of Fort so far? I remember it being an interesting change. So much warmer."
"Think of Fort?" The question comes as a surprise to N'thei, who continues to chew on the pastry with his back teeth while he thinks it over with an enigmatic smile. "It's exactly how I always heard it was, the most decorated of the Weyrs. I haven't been at the Reaches but two and a half turns--" He breaks off his own thoughts, brows lifted, and just then offers the plate with the last remaining pastry toward P'draig. "They're pretty fine pastries, if you're interested in a late snack?"
"The most decorated. So it seems impressive?" That seems to amuse P'draig for some reason, then he nods. "Where from before that?" It's idle curiosity apparently that spurs the question and the brownrider's eyes drop down to the offered plate. "Sure, I'll take a bite or two, though I had a serving at dinner, and I've got that cake baking in the oven." His thumb jerks over his shoulder in the direction of said oven.
N'thei answers aimlessly, "Here and there." The diversion of an answer couples with a smile that suits it, friendly but not giving any more than that. He lets P'draig have the last dessert, set to slide the plate on to the counter next to him while his eyes travel on toward the cake oven. "Impressive. Friendly. Everyone's been very friendly. Warmer than the Reaches." Whether he means climate or people, hard to say.
"Bit of a wanderer huh?" P'draig's tone remains conversational, not really pressing for more there and he takes a bite or two of the offered pastry. "Your Wyaeth's part of new hope for Fort. Only makes sense really. They were friendly with me too down at Ista when Jekzith flew Nalaieth. And Ista .... way warmer than the Reaches." He laughs a little then, takes another bit from the pastry.
N'thei continues as conversationally, as small-talk; "I don't care for Ista over much. Too humid. But it does give a new sympathy for steamed vegetables." Done with his own dessert, he crosses his arms idly over his chest. "You're the one that was talking sense to Zahava at the Flight, the way I remember it? She said something about having to thank you, and it stands to reason that I should too."
"Me either to be honest. A trip to the beach now and then is nice, or to get drunk at the bar there. But it's too hot, the air's too heavy. Longest winter ever that one when Jek and I were at Ista, at least as far as the weather's concerned. Can't complain about the women though." His brows lift a little as N'thei hearkens back to the flight. "Yep. Seems like Ciath hit her pretty hard. She was my Weyrling ... couldn't not help y'know?" He seems bemused by the thanks but his head ducks once. "Sure - she's a friend too, Za."
N'thei ahhs his understanding, mild, and informs, "I can't say the same about her, that we're friends. We didn't hit it off really, Zahava and me. She's particularly businesslike." Where he lived before High Reaches is an untouchable subject, but his interpersonal relations with the goldrider? Sure, why not discuss it. "But Wyaeth gets on with Ciath, so that's all that matters really. That and free food and pretty girls. Simple pleasures, huh?"
"Wouldn't expect that quite so soon. And it must've been a lurch for her, so recently weyrmated to wake up next to a complete stranger." P'draig's voice is even, musing lightly on the situation. "And yeah, seems like it tends to go that way. The dragons, they clicke, come together and then ... drift apart again. Jek's all into Azath, the green he caught last now." The Weyrlingmaster laughs merrily at the last. "Best kind really eh?" The mirth continues to curl Paddy's mouth upward. "Easier that way too. No complications."
N'thei chuckles roughly; "Oh, mustn't it have been at that." But he doesn't seem to mind so much, the whole situation between himself and the goldrider, ends his thoughts with an unconcerned shrug. "At any rate. Do you come much to the Reaches these days? Not so many friendly girls there now. Mostly just the cold women, like the ice gets into their veins and stays there. Good to have an excuse to get out, especially with this damn cromcoal situation."
That earns a close look from the brownrider, the shrug noted with a slight lift of his brows and he turns back to the plate in front of him to finish off the dessert. "I visit my parents at least once a month, more often when there's no Weyrlings. My littlest sister is still up there too. Funny you should say the girls aren't friendly ... wouldn't say that about most of the ones I know there. 'Course the Weyrwoman ... that's another story. She's a piece of work. Haven't spoken much more than a few words to her though in Turns." A grimace twists his face. "Yeah, can't really avoid the talk about all that. It's uncomfortable, even here to think about it. I worry. Hope it gets worked out soon."
N'thei raises his eyebrows, holds them up for a spell, then melts his expression into a smile that smooths away the beginnings of some very rough edges. "Don't take this the wrong way, sir, but that's not exactly the best way to keep the conversation smooth and pleasant. I expect every rider takes umbrage to the implication that their Weyrwoman is..." He waves his fingers toward P'draig, indicating only what the brownrider's just said. Then, back to lighter, easier subjects; "I just hope it's worked out before the eggs hatch and I can't come up with a respectable excuse to take advantage of another Weyr's hospitality. Imagine a Reaches winter with minimal coal for heating?" He chatters his teeth for dramatic effect.
P'draig only laughs again. "No didn't mean it that way. She's got spirit, Satiet. Met her way back when on a visit home, when she was just a Weyrling and I was still an Apprentice. Never been quite so unsettled by a girl before. So. Like I said. She's something else. Though 'friendly' isn't how I'd describe her." He pushes the empty plate away a little and tilts a look over towards the oven, sniffing experimentally. "Not quite done," he announces then makes another face. "I'm worried about my folks and that winter without good heat, yeah. Figure if it gets too awful maybe they can come here. My weyr's big and there'll be the baby for Mum to coo over."
"I imagine a lot of people are starting to look for winter alternatives. Won't High Reaches look strange with no one living there until the spring thaw." N'thei finds amusement in the idea, but it's more bitter than funny. With an inexpert sniff, he just has to agree with the whole cake situation, being in no place to argue, and rocks away from the counter to straighten his posture. "I best be headed back, cold or not. Though it should be a compliment that it's with a heavy heart, and a strong wish I could have some of that fine-smelling cake."
"That's something ... I'd rather not imagine and I'll join you in hoping things get worked out. For all I've lived here a long time, Reaches is still home in a lot of ways." P'draig cocks a look over at the Reachian bronzerider again. "How about I bring you some then? Little bit of friendly warmth from Fort, sort of like a welcome gift or something." He waves one hand vaguely, laughing again, a little self-deprecatingly. "Clear skies back, N'thei and good to talk to you. If you see any of my family, before I do, please let them know I'm thinking of them. See you soon."
N'thei answers amiably, "I'll set aside a glass of milk just for it." On his way past the dishwasher, a girl who has now made every conceivable excuse to linger and watch the two riders talk, he ticks a wink and slips on his coat, headed to the caverns. "Good to meet you properly, P'draig. Nice to know Wyaeth's babes will be in good hands." With a wave, he departs.