Log: Shanlee Visits
RL: April 24, 2008.
VR: Day 17, month 2, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a winter morning.
(Original log from Shanlee)
The day after the masquerade ball, Shanlee visits Leova and Vrianth's ledge and gets a tour. She also identifies its previous occupants.
Sunset Across the Lake Ledge
Broad and flat, this large ledge could likely hold a bronze dragon and a visitor comfortably, if with little room to spare. Slanting slightly downward so that any rain may spill over the unsheltered outcropping, the bumpy ledge has smooth grooves that travel like wagon wheel tracks from where the weyr entrance begins to the very edge, paths worn smooth by turns of wind and running water. Dug into the rock next to the opening of the sheltered sanctuary and where the ledge begins to dwindle before disappearing into the wall entirely, a small cavern has been dug so that someone could carefully climb in and sit comfortably for a while. The view from the ledge reveals just why a cozy hidey-hole might be valuable, with its location almost directly behind the lake, this weyr's true treasure lies in its perfect sunset watching spot.
Vrianth waits from the side of her substantial ledge, not smack dab in the middle as usual. The younger green rises to warble up to Kaylith just as soon as she sees her first fly by and start scanning the ledges. Over here!
Looking like she’s gotten little sleep the night before, Shan slips down the emerald side, smoothes a hand along the warm shoulder of her lifemate and checks the closure on a carrysack. Only then does she turn to where young Vrianth is situated, Kaylith already having offered a whuff of greeting as she’d angled in. The ledge is given brief scan and then a smirk pulls onto her mouth as she calls out, “Leova, you here? Vrianth said to come on over.” That tacked on for just in case the other greenrider weren’t aware of the invitation made.
Leova emerges from Vrianth's other side, waving as she crosses beneath the curve of her dragon's neck. And if she hasn't gotten much sleep the night before, well, that's nothing new. Aiming for mock outrage, "What? You implying that my dragon would invite somebody over without asking?" She gives Shanlee a long look.
Silence follows the path of Leova’s emergence. A low chuckle emerges, “Have fun at the ball?” perhaps Shan’s poking fun at the other’s sleep deprived look. That expression smoothes out and a fine brow lifts upward, “Not like it hasn’t happened to me before,” dragons arranging their own meetings that is.
"Did indeed," Leova says with good humor. "What about you?" And then, "Recently?" She beckons the other woman closer, pausing to point out the various features: the little hidey-hole but, more importantly, that view.
Taking a slow meander around the ledge, Shan stops at one point and turns a look back on Leova as she points out various things. The view is dutifully given appreciative attention until a slow smirk starts to form, “Find any questionable items in the weyr when you moved in?” answering herself, “Likely not. I believe the cavern staff do a good job of cleaning up after someone moves out.” As to balls, slight shoulders roll a nonchalant pattern, “Didn’t go. Stood watch over at Nabol for the night,” there’s even a short long-suffering sigh to entrench the woman’s sense of duty over pleasure. As to the second question she makes no answer simply turning her head away as an enigmatic quirk touches her mouth.
"Dirty socks. A corkscrew. Couple old boots, but I haven't been through the rest of the box," Leova says with a lift of her shoulders. "Smells a lot better in there anyway, now. Want to see the inside?" Vrianth's head swings around, tracking her, but the young green doesn't move from her favored spot by Kaylith. "And how come Nabol? Thought when you got to be Weyrsecond, got to skip those things." And did she imagine that glimpse, just as Shanlee turned away?
“I doubt N’thei even realizes he’s missing them,” and that might give clue to all the smirking that Shan had had going on, “I do believe it was his before Wyaeth went necking Teonath.” Turning from the view and toward the weyr entrance a grin appears, “Sure, if you’ve got something to warm bones with in there.” Hands clasp behind her back as she waits for Leova to lead the way, “Apparently M’tin’s weyrmate spent half his turn’s wages on an outfit for that ball. So I offered to take his watch for him.” Who knew the Weyrsecond could be that generous with her time? As to any glimpses the other greenrider might have gotten, there’s nothing to see now but a bland expression.
"N'thei." Could the name be any flatter? Leova turns around slowly, a full rotation that scans their ledge, but when Vrianth looks back over her shoulder at her, the corner of her mouth turns up and she shakes her head. Dragons. "This and that. Guessing you don't mean furs." Still very dry. As she heads through the overlapped hangings, she says over her shoulder, "Did you? All for nothing?"
Leova walks into an archway leading into the inner weyr.
Shanlee walks into an archway leading into the inner weyr.
Vrianth's Dimly Lit Weyr
Stepping inside through the lower ledge entrance, the weyr opens up into two parts that curve in a partial circle. The first and largest part of the cavern lies straight back from the ledge and cradles a well-worn dragon couch more suited to a bronze. Within that massive indentation, the young green's rushes create a much smaller, softer pool.
From there the weyr wraps around, its inner depths shielded by the curving wall, but also by thick draperies that can be pushed aside by humans or even Vrianth if she chooses.
The inner weyr has been dug a little more square here, allowing one to push furniture back against the walls more easily, and features a hearth against the far wall. A large bed against the right wall, covered in thick mats and furs, must have been there already. However, the other furniture hasn't been arranged particularly, just piled up to one side of the curtains. There's one round table that seats four but has been supplied with five mismatched chairs, all with upholstered seats and runged wooden backs. Near it is a sturdy wooden settee that sits two, the canvas a shade not far off Vrianth's hide. There's also a wash stand with basin and pitcher, a wooden oval mirror leaning against one wall, a chest of drawers rather than a press, and a set of simple glowbaskets.
Shanlee watches Leova with some dark kind of amusement going on, "Aye well, doubt he'll drop in on a visit of nostalgia. So you're safe there." The other's dry comment earns her a feigned look of shock, "Of course I meant furs. I'm a paragon of virtue. You sully my reputation by suggesting anything else." Deadpan and straight-faced right to the end as she follows behind the other into her weyr where she stops and takes her surroundings in. "Nice," is finally declared already moving toward the hearth and its warmth. Nodding in reply her expression hidden as it's turned to the dance of flame, "All out of the goodness of my heart and all." If there was a deal made or some kind of trade off, the weyrsecond is clearly not about to spill the beans.
"Of course." Leova steps back so the other woman can precede her past the pile of furniture and towards the hearth. "Any news from there? Nabol." Though eventually she'll catch up, she walks more slowly, looking around and up and down the cavern again with an expression just a notch too set to be a frown.
The answer that comes on Nabol is vague at best, “One set of fireheights are much the same as the next you’ll find. Although High Reaches Hold does make a good wherry stew that they always have someone bring up when you stand watch over there.” Shan turns, a query set to her lips when she catches the set look on Leova’s face, “Its not like he died and could haunt while you sleep, you know,” assuming its over the previous occupant of the weyr.
"Have to remember that." And Shanlee's comment does liven her into something like a chuckle. "Not that. Just, different when the place was somebody's you know. Like that." Leova's nod marks the obvious target with its furs and pillows and all. "In his... in /my/... Well, the sheets are clean, anyway." She settles down by the hearth, by Shanlee, holding her hands to its warmth.
“One thing I’ll give Nabol’s kitchens are their bubblie pies,” Shan hands out a last notation on Holds and their kitchenwares. Swivelling slowly on her heel she follows the path Leova’s nod turns to and doesn’t bother hiding the short snort of laughter that appears, “He likely got way less action there than he likes to lead everyone to believe.” Men and their egos. “Bit of a relief to have *betweening* over, aye?” turning one last time to talk of such things, “Graduation soon. Excited?” a glance is turned sidelong to the other.
Leova says more lightly, "Should make a list of all the places, all the things to eat. People to talk to." Her mouth curves into a smirk momentarily but then she just plain sits down and agrees, "*Betweening*? Definitely. With everyone through safe. Graduation?" Another shoulder-lift, a sideways look of her own. "Don't know how much our class will be seeing each other, after that. Or you and me, even, when it's not all official mentoring and all. Different wings. Hope we would, though. Would like that."
Shanlee's return is with a smile of agreement, "Milani would likely be best for that seeing as how she knows what comes in with each tithe from the areas beholden to us." Her next a little more taciturn at speaking to people, "If you let the other do all the talking it's amazing what sort of things you can find out." The weyrsecond slips to silence and contemplation of the flames at Leova's talk over clutchmates and drifting apart. A small frown has formed and her tone turned regretful, "Don't see any of our clutch these days save for one or two. It's just how it goes. Different wings, different lives. People grow and change." The other's comment on wing placement garners a dryly amused flick of eyes in her direction but no words to put to it.
"But Milani isn't the one there on watch, having to root around for someone to feed you," Leova points out. "Though I did mean to talk to her anyway. Find a smith, maybe. Or a miner or whatever. See what it would run to open a window where the rock's pretty thin." She puts her hands behind her, leans on them. Another sideways look. "Silence mean you would or wouldn't want to meet up? Or just not say. Letting me do the talking, and all."
“Actually our kitchen staff here at the Weyr are pretty nice about organizing packed lunches for those standing watch. But it’s always nice when the Hold you’re at wants to offer a meal or something,” spoken with sincerity until a touch sarcasm breaks through, “Better than a lump of coal.” Which might sound odd. Lost in thought again until Leova speaks again, “Hmm? Oh. No. I’m sure we’ll still meet up whether you end up in Glacier or not,” there’s even a smile to placate with.
"Mm." Leova adds after a moment, "Lump of coal? Don't follow."
Shanlee has the grace to chuckle, "I was being facetious in referring to the whole Crom situation and standing watch over that way these days."
"How much is that still ongoing?" Leova wonders, but mildly.
Boots scrape over rock as Shanlee shifts position where she stands, in fact the heat of the hearth appears to have done the job and she steps back from it. “There are some that are well pleased to see ‘Reaches back on watch and then of course there are others that still throw dirty looks about,” lips twist over the topic, “Either way, its history now.”
As Shanlee steps back, Leova moves to stand. "Guess so," she says finally. "How's everything else going, Shanlee? With you, I mean."
Taking her time in giving Leova’s personal living space another looking over, Shan affords her an odd look, “I’m fine,” then with some wariness showing up, “You been hearing talk to the contrary?”
"No," Leova says, again mildly. "Just, you seem a little on edge is all." She lifts open hands. "That's all."
Low laughter erupts, “A little on edge? My dear mentee, when am I not?” a wink follows that rhetoric. Shan produces a smile of warmer edges, “It’s sweet that you ask though,” and then turns it onto Leova, “And you? How you feeling? I remember how I felt where you are now. So close to the end and not sure I wanted the next stage to happen.”
"Now that, guess I can't rightly answer." Leova steps toward the table, rummaging through the stacks upon it. She comes up with a pitcher, lifts the lid, sniffs. Sets it down again. "About that. I'd ask you which wing, but that might take the fun out of it."
And Leova gets nothing more than a deep smirk in return. Until that is, she pulls a smile into place and a long finger lifts to draw circle around her face, “Now?” as to when she’s not on edge. Shan’s nose wrinkles a little and she tries peering into the pitcher, “What’s in there?” her insatiable curiosity coming to the fore. Grinning, “You can ask. But will I tell?”
"You want to play that game, we can," and Leova slides the lidded pitcher across the table to Shanlee. There. Smell it if you dare. Her bright eyes are a conscious imitation of Milani. "Guess."
Green eyes roll in a near exasperated manner, “Jays! Fine. My investments have yet to pay off, my herd produced 4 new cria and a good weight of fleece last shearing, my brother’s new wife is fat with his first brat, my mother still complains I don’t go home enough and apparently Laylia’s not visiting much either is my fault too.” Shan finally takes a breath, lets it out and then mutters, “And my hand itches like crazy,” rubbing the offending palm over the seams of her flight breeches, “Anything else you want to know?” The pitcher Leova pushes toward her is eyes suspiciously, “Moonshine?” hopeful.
"Of course it's your fault. Mothers." Leova's mouth pulls to the side. And after a sad shake of the head for moonshine, "I should go visit her. Haven't seen her weyr yet. But at least they say if it itches, means it's healing. Show me?"
Shanlee shrugs, "Always has been," her fault. Peering back at the pitcher and to Leova, "Not?" slight disappointment there from Shan. Her hand tucks behind her back much like a littlie would do when caught with theirs in the cookie jar, "Show me what's in there and I'll show you my hand."
"You the oldest?" Leova guesses. "Fine. Here," and she can't help but smile. Off goes the lid. Just water. Stale water, but water. Not exciting at all.
That hand behind her back is now clasped by the other as Shan shakes her head, “No. Middle. Raiveen, then Laylia who are older than me. And then there’s Riyar and Shalia,” turning it around, “Where do you fit in your family?” Now she’s really let down and doesn’t bother to hide it, “Just water?”
"Just water," Leova says firmly. "Try it if you want." Maybe it turned into vodka when she wasn't looking? "Strange, though. Wouldn't have thought Laylia was older. Funny what a difference they can make." She glances towards the ledge before she looks back, sticking her own hand out: palm, please!
Shanlee's curious, but not that curious. She does however, dip a finger into it and looks set to stick in her mouth too. Its Leova's statement that halts it right in front of her lips, "What a difference who can make to what?" The redhead tracks that look to the ledge and then slowly shows her hand palm up. The wound is nicely healed, leaving behind now just a pink line edged with dots along its length. Soon it will likely just blend in with creases that occur naturally on a palm, "Numbweed only helps for so long. Been trying 'Useless' for it but..." shrug.
"Dragons. Starting at their ages, more than ours. Even E'dro's starting to catch up." Leova leans to study Shanlee's palm. "Maybe that would mean something to a fortune-teller. What's this 'Useless,' though?"
“Aloe plant Rilsa gave us in dragonhealing. Supposed to help take scars away. It doesn’t,” ergo, the useless aspect of it all. If Leova’s not understanding what she’s looking at, Shan’s not about to elaborate as she curls her fingers over her palm. Her head turning toward the ledge a light frown appears as yet again that brown firelizard has appeared from nowhere and is perched atop her green’s head. Which brings her to a farewell, “Thank you for inviting us to see your new home,” a glance about, “When you decide where you want all that to go,” indicating the furniture piled up, “Give us a call and we’ll come help.”
Leova has to laugh. "No wonder I didn't recognize it." She steps back. "Good timing. Should be getting on myself. Drop by again though, hm?" As she walks her visitor out, the angle makes the settee more visible: that purple shawl draped across it, right where it could be used to warm someone who chose to sit there.
With Shan making a move toward the ledge now that odd little firelizard suddenly disappears as if he'd not been there in the first place. Kaylith of course, the picture of innocence lumbers to her feet and looks all dutiful with her foreleg ready for her rider to use in mounting. The flash of purple draped over the settee catches her peripheral vision and the weyrsecond turns her head in it's direction a small smile appearing, "I think it's your turn to visit us next, aye?" Out and onto the ledge now she's up between neckridges with practiced ease fingers wiggling a farewell to Leova, "You'll have to bring your own water though. I don't have any." Laughter floats out as the little green warbles an amicable farewell to her green counterpart and then lifts off to wing her way to her own place of rest.
VR: Day 17, month 2, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a winter morning.
(Original log from Shanlee)
The day after the masquerade ball, Shanlee visits Leova and Vrianth's ledge and gets a tour. She also identifies its previous occupants.
Sunset Across the Lake Ledge
Broad and flat, this large ledge could likely hold a bronze dragon and a visitor comfortably, if with little room to spare. Slanting slightly downward so that any rain may spill over the unsheltered outcropping, the bumpy ledge has smooth grooves that travel like wagon wheel tracks from where the weyr entrance begins to the very edge, paths worn smooth by turns of wind and running water. Dug into the rock next to the opening of the sheltered sanctuary and where the ledge begins to dwindle before disappearing into the wall entirely, a small cavern has been dug so that someone could carefully climb in and sit comfortably for a while. The view from the ledge reveals just why a cozy hidey-hole might be valuable, with its location almost directly behind the lake, this weyr's true treasure lies in its perfect sunset watching spot.
Vrianth waits from the side of her substantial ledge, not smack dab in the middle as usual. The younger green rises to warble up to Kaylith just as soon as she sees her first fly by and start scanning the ledges. Over here!
Looking like she’s gotten little sleep the night before, Shan slips down the emerald side, smoothes a hand along the warm shoulder of her lifemate and checks the closure on a carrysack. Only then does she turn to where young Vrianth is situated, Kaylith already having offered a whuff of greeting as she’d angled in. The ledge is given brief scan and then a smirk pulls onto her mouth as she calls out, “Leova, you here? Vrianth said to come on over.” That tacked on for just in case the other greenrider weren’t aware of the invitation made.
Leova emerges from Vrianth's other side, waving as she crosses beneath the curve of her dragon's neck. And if she hasn't gotten much sleep the night before, well, that's nothing new. Aiming for mock outrage, "What? You implying that my dragon would invite somebody over without asking?" She gives Shanlee a long look.
Silence follows the path of Leova’s emergence. A low chuckle emerges, “Have fun at the ball?” perhaps Shan’s poking fun at the other’s sleep deprived look. That expression smoothes out and a fine brow lifts upward, “Not like it hasn’t happened to me before,” dragons arranging their own meetings that is.
"Did indeed," Leova says with good humor. "What about you?" And then, "Recently?" She beckons the other woman closer, pausing to point out the various features: the little hidey-hole but, more importantly, that view.
Taking a slow meander around the ledge, Shan stops at one point and turns a look back on Leova as she points out various things. The view is dutifully given appreciative attention until a slow smirk starts to form, “Find any questionable items in the weyr when you moved in?” answering herself, “Likely not. I believe the cavern staff do a good job of cleaning up after someone moves out.” As to balls, slight shoulders roll a nonchalant pattern, “Didn’t go. Stood watch over at Nabol for the night,” there’s even a short long-suffering sigh to entrench the woman’s sense of duty over pleasure. As to the second question she makes no answer simply turning her head away as an enigmatic quirk touches her mouth.
"Dirty socks. A corkscrew. Couple old boots, but I haven't been through the rest of the box," Leova says with a lift of her shoulders. "Smells a lot better in there anyway, now. Want to see the inside?" Vrianth's head swings around, tracking her, but the young green doesn't move from her favored spot by Kaylith. "And how come Nabol? Thought when you got to be Weyrsecond, got to skip those things." And did she imagine that glimpse, just as Shanlee turned away?
“I doubt N’thei even realizes he’s missing them,” and that might give clue to all the smirking that Shan had had going on, “I do believe it was his before Wyaeth went necking Teonath.” Turning from the view and toward the weyr entrance a grin appears, “Sure, if you’ve got something to warm bones with in there.” Hands clasp behind her back as she waits for Leova to lead the way, “Apparently M’tin’s weyrmate spent half his turn’s wages on an outfit for that ball. So I offered to take his watch for him.” Who knew the Weyrsecond could be that generous with her time? As to any glimpses the other greenrider might have gotten, there’s nothing to see now but a bland expression.
"N'thei." Could the name be any flatter? Leova turns around slowly, a full rotation that scans their ledge, but when Vrianth looks back over her shoulder at her, the corner of her mouth turns up and she shakes her head. Dragons. "This and that. Guessing you don't mean furs." Still very dry. As she heads through the overlapped hangings, she says over her shoulder, "Did you? All for nothing?"
Leova walks into an archway leading into the inner weyr.
Shanlee walks into an archway leading into the inner weyr.
Vrianth's Dimly Lit Weyr
Stepping inside through the lower ledge entrance, the weyr opens up into two parts that curve in a partial circle. The first and largest part of the cavern lies straight back from the ledge and cradles a well-worn dragon couch more suited to a bronze. Within that massive indentation, the young green's rushes create a much smaller, softer pool.
From there the weyr wraps around, its inner depths shielded by the curving wall, but also by thick draperies that can be pushed aside by humans or even Vrianth if she chooses.
The inner weyr has been dug a little more square here, allowing one to push furniture back against the walls more easily, and features a hearth against the far wall. A large bed against the right wall, covered in thick mats and furs, must have been there already. However, the other furniture hasn't been arranged particularly, just piled up to one side of the curtains. There's one round table that seats four but has been supplied with five mismatched chairs, all with upholstered seats and runged wooden backs. Near it is a sturdy wooden settee that sits two, the canvas a shade not far off Vrianth's hide. There's also a wash stand with basin and pitcher, a wooden oval mirror leaning against one wall, a chest of drawers rather than a press, and a set of simple glowbaskets.
Shanlee watches Leova with some dark kind of amusement going on, "Aye well, doubt he'll drop in on a visit of nostalgia. So you're safe there." The other's dry comment earns her a feigned look of shock, "Of course I meant furs. I'm a paragon of virtue. You sully my reputation by suggesting anything else." Deadpan and straight-faced right to the end as she follows behind the other into her weyr where she stops and takes her surroundings in. "Nice," is finally declared already moving toward the hearth and its warmth. Nodding in reply her expression hidden as it's turned to the dance of flame, "All out of the goodness of my heart and all." If there was a deal made or some kind of trade off, the weyrsecond is clearly not about to spill the beans.
"Of course." Leova steps back so the other woman can precede her past the pile of furniture and towards the hearth. "Any news from there? Nabol." Though eventually she'll catch up, she walks more slowly, looking around and up and down the cavern again with an expression just a notch too set to be a frown.
The answer that comes on Nabol is vague at best, “One set of fireheights are much the same as the next you’ll find. Although High Reaches Hold does make a good wherry stew that they always have someone bring up when you stand watch over there.” Shan turns, a query set to her lips when she catches the set look on Leova’s face, “Its not like he died and could haunt while you sleep, you know,” assuming its over the previous occupant of the weyr.
"Have to remember that." And Shanlee's comment does liven her into something like a chuckle. "Not that. Just, different when the place was somebody's you know. Like that." Leova's nod marks the obvious target with its furs and pillows and all. "In his... in /my/... Well, the sheets are clean, anyway." She settles down by the hearth, by Shanlee, holding her hands to its warmth.
“One thing I’ll give Nabol’s kitchens are their bubblie pies,” Shan hands out a last notation on Holds and their kitchenwares. Swivelling slowly on her heel she follows the path Leova’s nod turns to and doesn’t bother hiding the short snort of laughter that appears, “He likely got way less action there than he likes to lead everyone to believe.” Men and their egos. “Bit of a relief to have *betweening* over, aye?” turning one last time to talk of such things, “Graduation soon. Excited?” a glance is turned sidelong to the other.
Leova says more lightly, "Should make a list of all the places, all the things to eat. People to talk to." Her mouth curves into a smirk momentarily but then she just plain sits down and agrees, "*Betweening*? Definitely. With everyone through safe. Graduation?" Another shoulder-lift, a sideways look of her own. "Don't know how much our class will be seeing each other, after that. Or you and me, even, when it's not all official mentoring and all. Different wings. Hope we would, though. Would like that."
Shanlee's return is with a smile of agreement, "Milani would likely be best for that seeing as how she knows what comes in with each tithe from the areas beholden to us." Her next a little more taciturn at speaking to people, "If you let the other do all the talking it's amazing what sort of things you can find out." The weyrsecond slips to silence and contemplation of the flames at Leova's talk over clutchmates and drifting apart. A small frown has formed and her tone turned regretful, "Don't see any of our clutch these days save for one or two. It's just how it goes. Different wings, different lives. People grow and change." The other's comment on wing placement garners a dryly amused flick of eyes in her direction but no words to put to it.
"But Milani isn't the one there on watch, having to root around for someone to feed you," Leova points out. "Though I did mean to talk to her anyway. Find a smith, maybe. Or a miner or whatever. See what it would run to open a window where the rock's pretty thin." She puts her hands behind her, leans on them. Another sideways look. "Silence mean you would or wouldn't want to meet up? Or just not say. Letting me do the talking, and all."
“Actually our kitchen staff here at the Weyr are pretty nice about organizing packed lunches for those standing watch. But it’s always nice when the Hold you’re at wants to offer a meal or something,” spoken with sincerity until a touch sarcasm breaks through, “Better than a lump of coal.” Which might sound odd. Lost in thought again until Leova speaks again, “Hmm? Oh. No. I’m sure we’ll still meet up whether you end up in Glacier or not,” there’s even a smile to placate with.
"Mm." Leova adds after a moment, "Lump of coal? Don't follow."
Shanlee has the grace to chuckle, "I was being facetious in referring to the whole Crom situation and standing watch over that way these days."
"How much is that still ongoing?" Leova wonders, but mildly.
Boots scrape over rock as Shanlee shifts position where she stands, in fact the heat of the hearth appears to have done the job and she steps back from it. “There are some that are well pleased to see ‘Reaches back on watch and then of course there are others that still throw dirty looks about,” lips twist over the topic, “Either way, its history now.”
As Shanlee steps back, Leova moves to stand. "Guess so," she says finally. "How's everything else going, Shanlee? With you, I mean."
Taking her time in giving Leova’s personal living space another looking over, Shan affords her an odd look, “I’m fine,” then with some wariness showing up, “You been hearing talk to the contrary?”
"No," Leova says, again mildly. "Just, you seem a little on edge is all." She lifts open hands. "That's all."
Low laughter erupts, “A little on edge? My dear mentee, when am I not?” a wink follows that rhetoric. Shan produces a smile of warmer edges, “It’s sweet that you ask though,” and then turns it onto Leova, “And you? How you feeling? I remember how I felt where you are now. So close to the end and not sure I wanted the next stage to happen.”
"Now that, guess I can't rightly answer." Leova steps toward the table, rummaging through the stacks upon it. She comes up with a pitcher, lifts the lid, sniffs. Sets it down again. "About that. I'd ask you which wing, but that might take the fun out of it."
And Leova gets nothing more than a deep smirk in return. Until that is, she pulls a smile into place and a long finger lifts to draw circle around her face, “Now?” as to when she’s not on edge. Shan’s nose wrinkles a little and she tries peering into the pitcher, “What’s in there?” her insatiable curiosity coming to the fore. Grinning, “You can ask. But will I tell?”
"You want to play that game, we can," and Leova slides the lidded pitcher across the table to Shanlee. There. Smell it if you dare. Her bright eyes are a conscious imitation of Milani. "Guess."
Green eyes roll in a near exasperated manner, “Jays! Fine. My investments have yet to pay off, my herd produced 4 new cria and a good weight of fleece last shearing, my brother’s new wife is fat with his first brat, my mother still complains I don’t go home enough and apparently Laylia’s not visiting much either is my fault too.” Shan finally takes a breath, lets it out and then mutters, “And my hand itches like crazy,” rubbing the offending palm over the seams of her flight breeches, “Anything else you want to know?” The pitcher Leova pushes toward her is eyes suspiciously, “Moonshine?” hopeful.
"Of course it's your fault. Mothers." Leova's mouth pulls to the side. And after a sad shake of the head for moonshine, "I should go visit her. Haven't seen her weyr yet. But at least they say if it itches, means it's healing. Show me?"
Shanlee shrugs, "Always has been," her fault. Peering back at the pitcher and to Leova, "Not?" slight disappointment there from Shan. Her hand tucks behind her back much like a littlie would do when caught with theirs in the cookie jar, "Show me what's in there and I'll show you my hand."
"You the oldest?" Leova guesses. "Fine. Here," and she can't help but smile. Off goes the lid. Just water. Stale water, but water. Not exciting at all.
That hand behind her back is now clasped by the other as Shan shakes her head, “No. Middle. Raiveen, then Laylia who are older than me. And then there’s Riyar and Shalia,” turning it around, “Where do you fit in your family?” Now she’s really let down and doesn’t bother to hide it, “Just water?”
"Just water," Leova says firmly. "Try it if you want." Maybe it turned into vodka when she wasn't looking? "Strange, though. Wouldn't have thought Laylia was older. Funny what a difference they can make." She glances towards the ledge before she looks back, sticking her own hand out: palm, please!
Shanlee's curious, but not that curious. She does however, dip a finger into it and looks set to stick in her mouth too. Its Leova's statement that halts it right in front of her lips, "What a difference who can make to what?" The redhead tracks that look to the ledge and then slowly shows her hand palm up. The wound is nicely healed, leaving behind now just a pink line edged with dots along its length. Soon it will likely just blend in with creases that occur naturally on a palm, "Numbweed only helps for so long. Been trying 'Useless' for it but..." shrug.
"Dragons. Starting at their ages, more than ours. Even E'dro's starting to catch up." Leova leans to study Shanlee's palm. "Maybe that would mean something to a fortune-teller. What's this 'Useless,' though?"
“Aloe plant Rilsa gave us in dragonhealing. Supposed to help take scars away. It doesn’t,” ergo, the useless aspect of it all. If Leova’s not understanding what she’s looking at, Shan’s not about to elaborate as she curls her fingers over her palm. Her head turning toward the ledge a light frown appears as yet again that brown firelizard has appeared from nowhere and is perched atop her green’s head. Which brings her to a farewell, “Thank you for inviting us to see your new home,” a glance about, “When you decide where you want all that to go,” indicating the furniture piled up, “Give us a call and we’ll come help.”
Leova has to laugh. "No wonder I didn't recognize it." She steps back. "Good timing. Should be getting on myself. Drop by again though, hm?" As she walks her visitor out, the angle makes the settee more visible: that purple shawl draped across it, right where it could be used to warm someone who chose to sit there.
With Shan making a move toward the ledge now that odd little firelizard suddenly disappears as if he'd not been there in the first place. Kaylith of course, the picture of innocence lumbers to her feet and looks all dutiful with her foreleg ready for her rider to use in mounting. The flash of purple draped over the settee catches her peripheral vision and the weyrsecond turns her head in it's direction a small smile appearing, "I think it's your turn to visit us next, aye?" Out and onto the ledge now she's up between neckridges with practiced ease fingers wiggling a farewell to Leova, "You'll have to bring your own water though. I don't have any." Laughter floats out as the little green warbles an amicable farewell to her green counterpart and then lifts off to wing her way to her own place of rest.