Log: Meeting the Mastervintner
RL: April 6, 2008.
VR: Day 1, month 12, Turn 15, of the Interval. It is a winter evening.
Leova meets Mastervintner Aladrea, who pulls out a Shimmy Surprise. OOCly/ICly interrupted.
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr (#1000RIJs)
The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. The air is redolent with the smell of burning conifer wood blended with the myriad odors of the bakery's spices and the kitchen's succulent offerings. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. The clink of cutlery harmonizes with the flowing river of talk and gossip as the weyrfolk gather for a hearty evening meal.
Aladrea sits at Jemah's foot, feet tucked under her, listening with glittering eyes to stories and bursting into laughter at length. Like a young child she giggles with glee, until the woman abruptly falls asleep, causing the woman to giggle again and shove off for the large serving table, helping herself to mulled cider. She clinks her way, satchel producing the noise, to a seat alone, far from the steadily dying bustle of dinnertime.
Leova's pace is steady, entering the cavern with her jacket under one arm. Or, at least a bundle wrapped up in her jacket. She too drops by the serving table, no coincidence given the food around here, and spends some time convincing the pile of pastry and preserves and whipped cream not to fall over and off her plate. The clinking gets her attention, though, and then the woman's knot. She stops, lips pursed, but if there's a whistle it's silent.
Aladrea senses eyes on her and casts her own about the cavern, settling on her examiner and raising her glass with a cheerful smile. "Vintner's duties to the 'Reaches and her Weyrlings!" She chirps cheerily, if the girl is in hearing distance. She nods her head to the empty seats around her invitingly before taking a long draught of cider and a satisfied 'ahh'.
And that's all the invitation the weyrling needs tonight, giving the craftmaster a sudden smile before pouring a glass of something that doesn't really go with the dessert. Light wine. Not the best stuff, or even the good stuff, but good enough. She carries the assemblage over to join the vintner, returning, "High Reaches' duties, Mastervintner. Leova, green Vrianth's." That smile shows up again, something about the newness of the introduction mixed with just plain pleasure. "And if that's really the offer of a seat? I'd wrong my weyrlingmaster if I didn't take it."
Aladrea giggles again, nodding the offer once more and pairing it with a gesture of the hand. "Well met, Leova. I am Aladrea. Please, sit! It's always lovely to have the company of the young." She winks, sipping her cider again. A practised eye squints at the glass Leova carries, and she murmurs to herself before venturing, "Talev, 10, I believe? A little spicy?"
Unloading is an awkward process. First the glass. Then the plate. Then fixing the pastry all over again. Then the bundle, on the chair next to the one in which Leova sits across from the vintner. She has a tentative sip, agrees, "Could be! Not boring, anyway," tilting her glass toward her companion for a look or a sniff or whatever it is people do when they aren't prancing around in fancy dresses and sipping. "Are you here on business, ma'am?"
Aladrea inhales deeply and nods with an 'aah,' grinning broadly. "Hmm, right on target." She sips her cider again to clear the palate, placing her elbows on the table and catching her chin in the heels of both hands. "Guess you could say I'm here on business. Really?" Her voice lowers to a secretive tone, and she glances both ways before speaking again in hushed tones. "I've just been holed up in Benden for too long. Missed home. Y'know?" A wink. "Plus, I've all these new treats to peddle 'round Pern. I feel like a trader!" She exclaims, delighted. Then, a spark of mirth hits her eyes, and she leans forward with a fleeting glance to the glass of wine. "If you wanted not boring, you've come to the right person."
Leova doesn't wink back, but as she sits back, she does return a smile that's frankly admiring. "You put on quite a show, ma'am. Ever decide to start abstaining, you could try out for the harpers, not just play trader. So. This is home, not just a good market?" High Reaches, land of lushes.
Aladrea giggles at that, straightening and alighting a hand on her chin. "A show? I suppose! But yes, this is home. Well, Tillek is home. This is where I grew up. So... I guess they both are!" A pleased grin and she shrugs. "Inbetweenin'. You know how it is." A wave of the hand, and she dismisses the topic. "But what about you? Has this always been home? And, hold, I've a question." A single finger raises and she smiles, mischief evident. "Now tell me. Are Weyrlings allowed to partake in the finest? Or are you still under the same silly restrictions candidates are?"
"From Tillek area myself," Leova says when it's her turn to stop mining the mountain of dessert and talk. Tilting her chin towards the woman's wrist, smiling, "Made me notice your bracelet right off. For the finest? Don't know that I'd know it if it bit me. We're allowed to sample by now though. Here and there. Could when we were candidates even, just have to behave. Which of course we always do." Her nod is firm, refusing to admit to amusement. Much.
Zunaeth senses that Vrianth goes exploring amidst a sense of creamy whipped whiteness and shiny red sweetness, a dessert only her dear rider could love. No proper meat to it at all. << Zunaeth? >>
Aladrea gives her a conspiratorial "Right," and a wink before hunching over her bag, clinking through the contents and retrieving a glass. "Excellent. Now, tell me, d'you have a favorite flavor? A favorite fruit or nut perhaps?" She eyes the pile of desserts and grins. "Something sweet, perhaps?"
Vrianth senses that Zunaeth responds first to those sensation, another curious episode of prodding at the dessert before he gives up with a mental snort that sends sparks fluttering up, like a log pokered in the fire. << Yeah? >>
"Fruit's good, about any stone fruit," Leova murmurs, eyes widening some as she watches. So much that a piece of pastry just goes plop back onto the plate, ignored. "But so you know, ma'am? Not just a weyrling, one of the poorer weyrlings. Won't make a good customer. Makes it hard to even find a little something for my mentor, she's used to the finest like you said, weyrsecond and all."
Aladrea shakes her hand dismissively again, also shaking her head. "I've just finished these and I'm taking them on a tour. I don't want anything in return but your honest opinion." She withdraws three bottles from her satchel, all red, but in differently shaped bottles. "Now, eenie meenie." She giggles, recalling the youngster's tune while laying them out in a row. "You seemed to have lucked out, young weyrling."
Aladrea sets the Scintellating Shimmy Surprise down gently.
Aladrea dropped Redfruit Apple Romance.
Aladrea dropped Cherry Balm Lip Loosener.
Zunaeth senses Vrianth thinks to let him try the taste of it, too, but it's a quick and very human sample that vanishes with the rest, quick as the clink of glass against glass against glass. Much more interesting: following the sparks down to their source, seeking pictures in the flames. << What do you see? >>
A globe shaped bottle is hovered over first, single finger placed on the corked top. "This is my Scintellating Shimmy Surprise. Sets you t'dancing. Very, very red in flavour." Next is the rosy pink upside-down-flower bottle, not even touched. "This is Redfruit Apple Romance." A sigh follows, like a naive holder girl in love. The next little bottle is touched, smirk alighting her face afterwards. "This one's dangerous. Might not be a good idea to have more than a shot of it. Cherry Balm Lip Loosener. Good to be on the pouring end." Another mischievous wink follows and Aladrea readies a small glass, plucked right out of the satchel and rubbed with a handkerchief. So?
Leova does injustice to the bakers' cooking by how she eats without completely tasting it, bite after bite as bottle after bottle is pointed out, until finally she's just holding her fork frozen in the air. Staring. "None of them sound like a good idea, with apologies, ma'am. Couldn't ask for them ever without downing a little courage first, and we don't need no more loose lips round here either. What you need is, Starcrafter Won't Stop Talking Elixir. Carry Twice As Much Firestone Drink. Like that."
Aladrea shrugs happily, slipping the bottles back into her satchel despite hopeful looks from passerbys. "I suppose it's wise to pace yourself. I'll see you at your graduation." She promises, winking. "Leova. I'll remember the name." She settles back, satisfied, sipping her cider and eyeing the girl. "Whereabouts did you say you were from? Around Tillek? Where?"
Leova thinks out loud. "Or maybe it should be, Don't Care That The Starcrafter Won't Stop Talking Elixir." She watches Aladrea put the bottles away and finally sets down her fork. "Searched out of the stables at the Hold. Along with someone who's cousin to somebody named Dolpho, does ale there. Maybe you know him."
(Scene interrupted, IC reason unspecified.)
VR: Day 1, month 12, Turn 15, of the Interval. It is a winter evening.
Leova meets Mastervintner Aladrea, who pulls out a Shimmy Surprise. OOCly/ICly interrupted.
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr (#1000RIJs)
The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. The air is redolent with the smell of burning conifer wood blended with the myriad odors of the bakery's spices and the kitchen's succulent offerings. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. The clink of cutlery harmonizes with the flowing river of talk and gossip as the weyrfolk gather for a hearty evening meal.
Aladrea sits at Jemah's foot, feet tucked under her, listening with glittering eyes to stories and bursting into laughter at length. Like a young child she giggles with glee, until the woman abruptly falls asleep, causing the woman to giggle again and shove off for the large serving table, helping herself to mulled cider. She clinks her way, satchel producing the noise, to a seat alone, far from the steadily dying bustle of dinnertime.
Leova's pace is steady, entering the cavern with her jacket under one arm. Or, at least a bundle wrapped up in her jacket. She too drops by the serving table, no coincidence given the food around here, and spends some time convincing the pile of pastry and preserves and whipped cream not to fall over and off her plate. The clinking gets her attention, though, and then the woman's knot. She stops, lips pursed, but if there's a whistle it's silent.
Aladrea senses eyes on her and casts her own about the cavern, settling on her examiner and raising her glass with a cheerful smile. "Vintner's duties to the 'Reaches and her Weyrlings!" She chirps cheerily, if the girl is in hearing distance. She nods her head to the empty seats around her invitingly before taking a long draught of cider and a satisfied 'ahh'.
And that's all the invitation the weyrling needs tonight, giving the craftmaster a sudden smile before pouring a glass of something that doesn't really go with the dessert. Light wine. Not the best stuff, or even the good stuff, but good enough. She carries the assemblage over to join the vintner, returning, "High Reaches' duties, Mastervintner. Leova, green Vrianth's." That smile shows up again, something about the newness of the introduction mixed with just plain pleasure. "And if that's really the offer of a seat? I'd wrong my weyrlingmaster if I didn't take it."
Aladrea giggles again, nodding the offer once more and pairing it with a gesture of the hand. "Well met, Leova. I am Aladrea. Please, sit! It's always lovely to have the company of the young." She winks, sipping her cider again. A practised eye squints at the glass Leova carries, and she murmurs to herself before venturing, "Talev, 10, I believe? A little spicy?"
Unloading is an awkward process. First the glass. Then the plate. Then fixing the pastry all over again. Then the bundle, on the chair next to the one in which Leova sits across from the vintner. She has a tentative sip, agrees, "Could be! Not boring, anyway," tilting her glass toward her companion for a look or a sniff or whatever it is people do when they aren't prancing around in fancy dresses and sipping. "Are you here on business, ma'am?"
Aladrea inhales deeply and nods with an 'aah,' grinning broadly. "Hmm, right on target." She sips her cider again to clear the palate, placing her elbows on the table and catching her chin in the heels of both hands. "Guess you could say I'm here on business. Really?" Her voice lowers to a secretive tone, and she glances both ways before speaking again in hushed tones. "I've just been holed up in Benden for too long. Missed home. Y'know?" A wink. "Plus, I've all these new treats to peddle 'round Pern. I feel like a trader!" She exclaims, delighted. Then, a spark of mirth hits her eyes, and she leans forward with a fleeting glance to the glass of wine. "If you wanted not boring, you've come to the right person."
Leova doesn't wink back, but as she sits back, she does return a smile that's frankly admiring. "You put on quite a show, ma'am. Ever decide to start abstaining, you could try out for the harpers, not just play trader. So. This is home, not just a good market?" High Reaches, land of lushes.
Aladrea giggles at that, straightening and alighting a hand on her chin. "A show? I suppose! But yes, this is home. Well, Tillek is home. This is where I grew up. So... I guess they both are!" A pleased grin and she shrugs. "Inbetweenin'. You know how it is." A wave of the hand, and she dismisses the topic. "But what about you? Has this always been home? And, hold, I've a question." A single finger raises and she smiles, mischief evident. "Now tell me. Are Weyrlings allowed to partake in the finest? Or are you still under the same silly restrictions candidates are?"
"From Tillek area myself," Leova says when it's her turn to stop mining the mountain of dessert and talk. Tilting her chin towards the woman's wrist, smiling, "Made me notice your bracelet right off. For the finest? Don't know that I'd know it if it bit me. We're allowed to sample by now though. Here and there. Could when we were candidates even, just have to behave. Which of course we always do." Her nod is firm, refusing to admit to amusement. Much.
Zunaeth senses that Vrianth goes exploring amidst a sense of creamy whipped whiteness and shiny red sweetness, a dessert only her dear rider could love. No proper meat to it at all. << Zunaeth? >>
Aladrea gives her a conspiratorial "Right," and a wink before hunching over her bag, clinking through the contents and retrieving a glass. "Excellent. Now, tell me, d'you have a favorite flavor? A favorite fruit or nut perhaps?" She eyes the pile of desserts and grins. "Something sweet, perhaps?"
Vrianth senses that Zunaeth responds first to those sensation, another curious episode of prodding at the dessert before he gives up with a mental snort that sends sparks fluttering up, like a log pokered in the fire. << Yeah? >>
"Fruit's good, about any stone fruit," Leova murmurs, eyes widening some as she watches. So much that a piece of pastry just goes plop back onto the plate, ignored. "But so you know, ma'am? Not just a weyrling, one of the poorer weyrlings. Won't make a good customer. Makes it hard to even find a little something for my mentor, she's used to the finest like you said, weyrsecond and all."
Aladrea shakes her hand dismissively again, also shaking her head. "I've just finished these and I'm taking them on a tour. I don't want anything in return but your honest opinion." She withdraws three bottles from her satchel, all red, but in differently shaped bottles. "Now, eenie meenie." She giggles, recalling the youngster's tune while laying them out in a row. "You seemed to have lucked out, young weyrling."
Aladrea sets the Scintellating Shimmy Surprise down gently.
Aladrea dropped Redfruit Apple Romance.
Aladrea dropped Cherry Balm Lip Loosener.
Zunaeth senses Vrianth thinks to let him try the taste of it, too, but it's a quick and very human sample that vanishes with the rest, quick as the clink of glass against glass against glass. Much more interesting: following the sparks down to their source, seeking pictures in the flames. << What do you see? >>
A globe shaped bottle is hovered over first, single finger placed on the corked top. "This is my Scintellating Shimmy Surprise. Sets you t'dancing. Very, very red in flavour." Next is the rosy pink upside-down-flower bottle, not even touched. "This is Redfruit Apple Romance." A sigh follows, like a naive holder girl in love. The next little bottle is touched, smirk alighting her face afterwards. "This one's dangerous. Might not be a good idea to have more than a shot of it. Cherry Balm Lip Loosener. Good to be on the pouring end." Another mischievous wink follows and Aladrea readies a small glass, plucked right out of the satchel and rubbed with a handkerchief. So?
Leova does injustice to the bakers' cooking by how she eats without completely tasting it, bite after bite as bottle after bottle is pointed out, until finally she's just holding her fork frozen in the air. Staring. "None of them sound like a good idea, with apologies, ma'am. Couldn't ask for them ever without downing a little courage first, and we don't need no more loose lips round here either. What you need is, Starcrafter Won't Stop Talking Elixir. Carry Twice As Much Firestone Drink. Like that."
Aladrea shrugs happily, slipping the bottles back into her satchel despite hopeful looks from passerbys. "I suppose it's wise to pace yourself. I'll see you at your graduation." She promises, winking. "Leova. I'll remember the name." She settles back, satisfied, sipping her cider and eyeing the girl. "Whereabouts did you say you were from? Around Tillek? Where?"
Leova thinks out loud. "Or maybe it should be, Don't Care That The Starcrafter Won't Stop Talking Elixir." She watches Aladrea put the bottles away and finally sets down her fork. "Searched out of the stables at the Hold. Along with someone who's cousin to somebody named Dolpho, does ale there. Maybe you know him."
(Scene interrupted, IC reason unspecified.)