Log: Weyrlinghood: Living Cavern Conversation with Piper
Who: P'draig, Piper, T'ack
When: 18:33 on day 21, month 11, Turn 3, of the Tenth Interval.
Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig and Piper share casual conversation over food and drink, while skirting around the fact that they both are looking forward to the day Paddy gets tapped into a wing.
Fort Weyr Living Cavern(#199RJa$)
Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize.
Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr.
To the east, a short flight of stairs leads to the hallway to the inner caverns. A stout door to the north has a healer's emblem on it, marking the Infirmary. To the south is a wide tunnel, leading out of the Weyr, and a wide opening to the west leads to the Weyr bowl.
And at the quieter end of a long day, Piper apparently feels no need to pull teeth to drag out anything further, offering only, "Excellent," before unlidding her eyes and blowing the steam off the surface of her cider to cool it slightly before taking a cautious sip. Her gaze has that slightly glassy tired quality to it as she watches the flames' dance in the hearth.
Looking a little the worse for wear himself, P'draig slips into the living cavern in search of a meal, his steps only pausing briefly as he notes the goldrider near the hearth, before he moves to load up a plate with the offerings of the day. Once served with food and drink and cutlery he crosses back partly, the way he came and clears his throat. "Mind some company, weyrwoman?" comes the polite question in a quiet, but audible voice.
While T'ack's saluting didn't invoke any cringing, the same cannot be said of P'draig's greeting, although Piper only makes a face prior to waving a hand at the seat opened by T'ack's recent departure, "Not at all."
P'draig grins by way of answer and takes the chair, eyes turning curiously to mark his fellow Weyrling's departing form. "How's things?" he asks, once settled, glass to one side of his plate, and keeps his hands busy with cutting up his meat.
"Going well, been doing a lot of day trips out to Boll lately, so haven't been around all that much," Piper replies, "A little tiring. How're classes doing?" She glances sideways, "Liking them better than I did when I went through them?"
Pausing in the act of dipping a bit of wherry into a puddle of gravy, P'draig looks up at the goldrider measuringly for a moment, then spears a greenbean too. "Boll huh? How're things there?" he asks with mild curiousity then shrugs. "They're going pretty well I think. Jek's really picking up on things and starting to be able to do things when he's asked right away. Got in trouble for not saluting fast enough the other day."
"It's a long effort there," is all Piper offers by way of comment on Boll's current situation, before refocusing her attentions on the other rider's weyrlinghood, "With S'din? He seems a bit on the tough side. Maybe I gave V'yse too rough a time, maybe I just didn't know how good I had it." She sips at her cider with obvious relaxation occurring as she sinks into a more curled up posture in the broad chair.
P'draig munches on his first bite of food and composes another with his fork. "Wow ... still?" his head shakes a little. "No ... with one of the assistants ... not Lee or Lexi." More food vanishes into Paddy's mouth chewed carefully enough, though likely not as thoroughly as his mother taught. "Yeah - good ole V'yse, coulda bribed him with cookies!" notes the Weyrling with a hint of wickedness in his eyes.
"Maybe you could," counters Piper, her smile curling wider, "But I couldn't. I guess my cookies didn't hold a glow to yours. Although I suppose," she draws out the word, a little mirth creeping into her words, "It might have had something to do with the fact that I never tried..."
P'draig catches a bit of gravy off the corner of his mouth with his tongue and prods some tubers onto his fork. "Mm ... trying ... y'know, first step. Though yeah, Baker cookies, vs. Southern-Harper-raised cookies ..." he balances his hands as if they were the sides of a scale. "Even though I was only just starting training on sweets then."
"You had the edge anyway, even before you started training," Piper accuses with a giggle, "It's in your blood. I can't compete. I just settle for enjoying the fruits of your labors." A little melancholic sigh escapes her lips as she adds, "Chalk that up to one more reason I'll be delighted when you conclude weyrlinghood."
P'draig reaches for his glass, plain water in it and takes a drink, clearing out his mouth. "Yeah, I guess that's true," agrees the Weyrling and props his chin up on one hand, gazing across the table rather more fondly than he ought, no doubt. "Lots of reasons to look forward to that day," he concurs further, though low-voiced and then gives himself a bit of a shake. "Right ... um ... anyway, seems like they're missing me in the kitchens ... this gravy's okay, but not quite right!" he exclaims wide-eyed.
Piper doesn't dwell on the subject either instead nodding thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should be sending the dragons of Fort out searching for talented bakers while we don't have eggs on the sands...must give thought to making ourselves useful during the Interval after all, right?"
P'draig's brows lift a little. "Huh. Search for Crafters? Interesting. Think dragons would have as much of a sense for who makes good food as who'd make a decent rider?" He cleans the last of his food off his plate and pushes it away a little, knife and forked stacked on it haphazardly and leans back in his chair, hand curled loosely around his glass of water. He sips from it, from time to time, though there's a distinct look of "I wish this was something stronger" on his face with every sip.
"Juice?" Piper suggests offhandedly as she sees the grimace in the direction of water glass before offering, "I've always thought there was a hint of randomness and mood in the picking of candidates," she declares cavalierly, "After all, some people who are searched multiple times never Impress....so why shouldn't the dragons taste in future bakers be as good as their stats with candidates?" She giggles at her own feeble attempt at a joke.
P'draig shakes his head. "No ... I'm hankering after some of -that-," he nods at her cider. "But not the tame variety either," his grin turns wry at the edges, before his eyes sharpen with interest once more at what she's saying. "Really? Huh ..." he blinks a couple of times then laughs. "Just so long as they don't actually need to lick them to make a decision," he quips back.
"How else do you decide who is the best baker without a taste test?" teases Piper before polishing off the rest of her cider and getting to her feet, not bothering with conversational transitions as she notes, "The hot cider's good even if it isn't...potent. But I'm off to Boll again early in the morning, so I'm afraid I have to bid you goodnight." She smiles fondly and then hastens off to make the goodbye less awkward.
Those words chase a hint of color up into Paddy's ears and he takes a rather quick drink of water, nearly draining his glass. "Oh .. well ... definitely need to have some then," he musters up an answer for the cider and rises as she does, politely, and watches her go. "Good night Piper ..."
When: 18:33 on day 21, month 11, Turn 3, of the Tenth Interval.
Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr
What: P'draig and Piper share casual conversation over food and drink, while skirting around the fact that they both are looking forward to the day Paddy gets tapped into a wing.
Fort Weyr Living Cavern(#199RJa$)
Approaching half the size of the Hatching Grounds, this cavern echoes with voices during the day, and the soft patter of feet during the night. Dozens of tables are spaced throughout, each with open space around to provide small amounts of privacy for the discussions carried on at each. The night hearth, with a cluster of pots of stew and klah, is situated near the large entrance to the tunnel. Several other hearths are spaced around the huge chamber, lending light and some heat to the room. The far wall is lined with tables that always hold something edible to feed the throngs of people who come into this immense room in search of a meal, a snack, or something to drink. As with most Weyrs, the Living Cavern is the busiest place with the most activity. It is here that Fortians and visitors alike migrate in an effort to find information, share gossip, and just plain socialize.
Broad marble steps to the southwest lead up to the impressive Fort Weyr kitchen. An almost constant stream of activity centers around this staircase: people coming and going with loads of goods for the stores, fresh food, dirty or clean dishes and utensils, and plenty of folks just going in to do their duty for the day or night. The aromas wafting down the stairs are indicators of which meal is being prepared or served at the moment. The view into the kitchens is clear from the Living Cavern, everything gleaming and clean, and the muffled but bustling noises coming from within just add to the air of comfort, family, and hard work done at Fort Weyr.
To the east, a short flight of stairs leads to the hallway to the inner caverns. A stout door to the north has a healer's emblem on it, marking the Infirmary. To the south is a wide tunnel, leading out of the Weyr, and a wide opening to the west leads to the Weyr bowl.
And at the quieter end of a long day, Piper apparently feels no need to pull teeth to drag out anything further, offering only, "Excellent," before unlidding her eyes and blowing the steam off the surface of her cider to cool it slightly before taking a cautious sip. Her gaze has that slightly glassy tired quality to it as she watches the flames' dance in the hearth.
Looking a little the worse for wear himself, P'draig slips into the living cavern in search of a meal, his steps only pausing briefly as he notes the goldrider near the hearth, before he moves to load up a plate with the offerings of the day. Once served with food and drink and cutlery he crosses back partly, the way he came and clears his throat. "Mind some company, weyrwoman?" comes the polite question in a quiet, but audible voice.
While T'ack's saluting didn't invoke any cringing, the same cannot be said of P'draig's greeting, although Piper only makes a face prior to waving a hand at the seat opened by T'ack's recent departure, "Not at all."
P'draig grins by way of answer and takes the chair, eyes turning curiously to mark his fellow Weyrling's departing form. "How's things?" he asks, once settled, glass to one side of his plate, and keeps his hands busy with cutting up his meat.
"Going well, been doing a lot of day trips out to Boll lately, so haven't been around all that much," Piper replies, "A little tiring. How're classes doing?" She glances sideways, "Liking them better than I did when I went through them?"
Pausing in the act of dipping a bit of wherry into a puddle of gravy, P'draig looks up at the goldrider measuringly for a moment, then spears a greenbean too. "Boll huh? How're things there?" he asks with mild curiousity then shrugs. "They're going pretty well I think. Jek's really picking up on things and starting to be able to do things when he's asked right away. Got in trouble for not saluting fast enough the other day."
"It's a long effort there," is all Piper offers by way of comment on Boll's current situation, before refocusing her attentions on the other rider's weyrlinghood, "With S'din? He seems a bit on the tough side. Maybe I gave V'yse too rough a time, maybe I just didn't know how good I had it." She sips at her cider with obvious relaxation occurring as she sinks into a more curled up posture in the broad chair.
P'draig munches on his first bite of food and composes another with his fork. "Wow ... still?" his head shakes a little. "No ... with one of the assistants ... not Lee or Lexi." More food vanishes into Paddy's mouth chewed carefully enough, though likely not as thoroughly as his mother taught. "Yeah - good ole V'yse, coulda bribed him with cookies!" notes the Weyrling with a hint of wickedness in his eyes.
"Maybe you could," counters Piper, her smile curling wider, "But I couldn't. I guess my cookies didn't hold a glow to yours. Although I suppose," she draws out the word, a little mirth creeping into her words, "It might have had something to do with the fact that I never tried..."
P'draig catches a bit of gravy off the corner of his mouth with his tongue and prods some tubers onto his fork. "Mm ... trying ... y'know, first step. Though yeah, Baker cookies, vs. Southern-Harper-raised cookies ..." he balances his hands as if they were the sides of a scale. "Even though I was only just starting training on sweets then."
"You had the edge anyway, even before you started training," Piper accuses with a giggle, "It's in your blood. I can't compete. I just settle for enjoying the fruits of your labors." A little melancholic sigh escapes her lips as she adds, "Chalk that up to one more reason I'll be delighted when you conclude weyrlinghood."
P'draig reaches for his glass, plain water in it and takes a drink, clearing out his mouth. "Yeah, I guess that's true," agrees the Weyrling and props his chin up on one hand, gazing across the table rather more fondly than he ought, no doubt. "Lots of reasons to look forward to that day," he concurs further, though low-voiced and then gives himself a bit of a shake. "Right ... um ... anyway, seems like they're missing me in the kitchens ... this gravy's okay, but not quite right!" he exclaims wide-eyed.
Piper doesn't dwell on the subject either instead nodding thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should be sending the dragons of Fort out searching for talented bakers while we don't have eggs on the sands...must give thought to making ourselves useful during the Interval after all, right?"
P'draig's brows lift a little. "Huh. Search for Crafters? Interesting. Think dragons would have as much of a sense for who makes good food as who'd make a decent rider?" He cleans the last of his food off his plate and pushes it away a little, knife and forked stacked on it haphazardly and leans back in his chair, hand curled loosely around his glass of water. He sips from it, from time to time, though there's a distinct look of "I wish this was something stronger" on his face with every sip.
"Juice?" Piper suggests offhandedly as she sees the grimace in the direction of water glass before offering, "I've always thought there was a hint of randomness and mood in the picking of candidates," she declares cavalierly, "After all, some people who are searched multiple times never Impress....so why shouldn't the dragons taste in future bakers be as good as their stats with candidates?" She giggles at her own feeble attempt at a joke.
P'draig shakes his head. "No ... I'm hankering after some of -that-," he nods at her cider. "But not the tame variety either," his grin turns wry at the edges, before his eyes sharpen with interest once more at what she's saying. "Really? Huh ..." he blinks a couple of times then laughs. "Just so long as they don't actually need to lick them to make a decision," he quips back.
"How else do you decide who is the best baker without a taste test?" teases Piper before polishing off the rest of her cider and getting to her feet, not bothering with conversational transitions as she notes, "The hot cider's good even if it isn't...potent. But I'm off to Boll again early in the morning, so I'm afraid I have to bid you goodnight." She smiles fondly and then hastens off to make the goodbye less awkward.
Those words chase a hint of color up into Paddy's ears and he takes a rather quick drink of water, nearly draining his glass. "Oh .. well ... definitely need to have some then," he musters up an answer for the cider and rises as she does, politely, and watches her go. "Good night Piper ..."