Log: Lower Caverns Life
Who: C'len, Eila, Hali, Leova, Milani, Oysric (not all at the same time)
When: It is a summer afternoon, 14:45 of day 26, month 8, turn 17 of Interval 10.
Where: Common Room, High Reaches Weyr
What: Milani's doing work in the Common Room and a rotating cast of characters all stop by to chat at points throughout the afternoon. Tithes are coming in and among them is a massive shipment of wooden beads that Millie offers Eila a share of. Millie and Oys talk about Ista and Istans. C'len's plotting cookies. Just before supper, Hali the assistant post-master has a letter for Millie from Ista. And Leova as usual, is very observant.
Afternoon on a warm late summer day finds Milani indoors? What is this? Usually she takes off with work when she's done in the actual Stores to work outside as much as possible. But today, Millie is hunkered down in a chair with a stack of ledgers a mile high, mumbling as she works her abacus like it's going out of style. Flick, flick, flick beads fly as she tallies and sums and reconciles and goodness knows what else in the ledgers.
And while it might not be terribly surprising to find Eila inside, to see her without a trailing of children might come as one. Instead, she's a shoulderful of basket and her hands wrapped about a ratty white blanket, and, without seeming to even look about the cavern, she heads unerringly for Milani and collapses into a nearby chair, spreading that fabric out in front of her - revealing a worn hole in the middle. Quickly enough her purpose becomes clear as she produces from that basket needle and thread and applies one to the other.
Milani tips the ledger she's working on downward and peers as Eila flops. Blue-green eyes trace the shape of that hole and she winces a little. "Oh that doesn't look good. Think you can mend it Eila? I have a really nice white blanket that Shan gave me, llama fleece," she explains and chews on the end of her pencil.
Blink. Blue eyes shift from threaded needle to Milani, as though in surprise, and Eila wrinkles her nose just a bit and shakes at the blanket. "I think so - I hope so. It's Attie's favourite - entrusted to my care, you know!" And the nanny gently brings the white woven fabric nearer to inspect the hole, squinting and speaking without looking over to Milani. "Llama? This might be..." Llama? It's wooly, at least. "What're you...?" Finally she does look over to the headwoman assistant's work, and has a little cringe of her own. "Work, work, work?"
"Oh I hope so too if it's for one of the kids!" Milani says sincerely. "And yes, you know llama, lots of llamas up around here. And their fleece is softer than sheep's wool," she points out. The ledgers get a look and a laugh. "Work work work. It's tithing season."
Eila's basket seems to be replete with anything a hopeful seamstress could desire, judging by the half-open lid. But for the moment she's keeping things simple - a pure white thread, neatly knotted once put through the eye of the needle, begins to stitch up the ragged hole. She nods, absently: "I've seen them before. The fleece is /marvellous/. Oh, tithes?" A little laugh. "Nothing interesting, I gather?"
"Yes, fluffy almost on some of it. I love my blanket," Milani states happily about the llama fleece and nods about the tithes. "Well a lot of the usual, but there's always something interesting in every tithe," she points out, mouth pulling to the side a little with humor.
The corners of that tear is gradually pulling together, carefully, with much squinting and leaning in and even a pulled and redone stitch or two on Eila's part. "Who'd you say gave it to you?" The young nanny asks a bit distractedly as she picks out another loop of thread. "I'll have to see about getting a new one, mine right now are all tatty. Something particularly interesting in this lot?" Asked with a bit of a smile directed towards Milani.
"Shanlee, greenrider," Milani says with a warm smile and pulls her pencil out of her mouth to make a few notations, abacus clicking again. "Beads," Millie says succinctly. "One of the small holds between here and Pars sent beads. Wooden beads."
"Shanl-" Eila begins, shakes her head. "I don't think I know her." Accidentally pokes at her finger with that needle, and spends a moment sucking on her fingertip. "Ow." The word is quiet, lightly, mostly to herself and she quickly perks up, sitting straight at that mention. "Beads? Did they really? Oh, you can do the most /fascinating/ things with beads."
"Nice person," Milani explains further about the greenrider in question. "Oo, you okay? I hate it when I stick my finger. But then I don't really sew so it hardly ever happens," the assistant muses aloud then nods. "Yep. Boxes and boxes of beads. Apparently they had a good crop of some kind of tree or something and that's what they turned them into. Beads."
Eila touches her finger to her tongue one last time, shakes her hand, and then smiles over to Milani, though she does spend another moment pinching at the pad of her finger. No more blood here, and she grouses, "You'd think I'd be better at sewing, I was the thread-and-stuff girl with the caravan. But I guess that's sort of like saying a dragonhealer can fly because she works with dragons." Is it? It's an analogy, at least. "What're - do you know what you're planning to do with them?"
"Okay, good it's okay," Milani says definitely. "And yeah, I mean, I know lots about numbers and ledgers and Stores and what we all eat, but I can't make any of it!" Millie announces, the analogy not quite right. "The beads? For now, I'm putting them in Store Room F and hoping the kids can use them for crafts."
Milani's addition to the analogy earns a baffled sort of grin from the nanny, who however nods understandingly. The blanket's picked up again, needle secured and fingers tucked away and Eila returns to the sewing. "Oh - oh, do you think I could use a few, too? I mean, not too many. Of course they'd be wonderful for crafts - glue them to paper, thread them and make necklaces... They make good eyes. Well. For snowmen and stuff - 'stoo warm for that, right now, I guess." Nod, nod, nod.
"There's so /many/ Eila, I think we might actually be using these beads for turns and turns to come. I don't know what to think if they send another load /next/ turn," Milani confesses. "So, certainly." And she pulls a sheet from one of her clipboards, makes a note. "I'll bring you a jar of them, how's that?"
The reassurances garner a pleased little sigh, and Eila sits back in her chair to cast a delighted smile towards Milani. "Really? You would? I just - in my spare time, I make bracelets. And so far they've just been plain sort of bracelets, but I haven't been able to find a good way to fasten them..." The girl tails off, nods. Can't suppress another happy little smile. "Thank you! We can hope they don't have quite such a good tree harvest or whatever next year, eh? Wouldn't do to have the stores overflowing with beads."
"Well then, done deal, one jar of wooden beads to Eila. And if it's clasps you need, well I know where those boxes are. What kind of clasps are you looking for?" Milani's head ducks though mirth on her face. "Oh well I wouldn't wish ill on their tree crop, but you know, yes, a good supply of beads is all well and good, but this was .. a little much."
"Not - well, no, I don't want to - they look so nice when it's a little wood bead holding the whole thing together. And the last time I tried to tie on a clasp I ended up with more knot than clasp!" Eila, passing all her handiwork to one hand, mimes with the other a large, unwieldy clump. The headwoman assistant's next words have the girl sitting forward, tilting her head curiously. "Just how many beads did they send, Milani?"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Milani says as understanding dawns. "I didn't think of that. That would look nice, though," she says with a definite nod. "Especially these beads. THey are /nice/ beads, all a little different." She sighs though at that last, looks over at Eila sheepishly. "Three thousand, six hundred and forty five beads."
"/Three thousa-/...!" Eila starts, stops, starts, shakes her head and blinks. "You didn't - you didn't have to /count/ them all yourself, did you?" The thought brings a horrorfied rounding to Eila's grey eyes, and she picks at the blanket without even looking at it, instead turning that anxious-on-Milani's-behalf look on the other woman.
"Oh /shells/ no, they came with a count," Milani says with a little wave. "But I did divvy up the work amongst the other assistants to cross-check the inventory of course and it was right. We did two counts in fact." She smiles over at Eila with a little shrug. "Such is the job."
"Phew." Relief paints itself visible across Eila's features, and she grins ruefully, shaking her head just a little. "For your sake, at least, I'm glad of that." And not for the sake of those poor recounters? At least nannies didn't have to count past, oh, say, twenty or so. But the girl moves about a bit in her seat, lifting her head to glance about the cavern. "If you see - oh, there she is!" Little Attie, maybe, and thankfully the blanket is (mostly) all sewed up, as the tiny form heads straight for Eila and Milani seated at a table. "Bwankiedone?"
Oysric walks into the resident common room, strangely from the classroom, one hide tucked underneath his arm. His free hand holds a small saddle, likely one used by older children. He passes through the common room with an expression of curiousity, looking from Milani to Eila, considering them both. Or perhaps he's considering the situation. Does he make a run for it or stay put? "Afternoon," Oys intones, even including Attie in his greeting.
"Counting isn't so bad, I'm good with numbers," Milani says doggedly, proud of that skill apparently. But then there's that little girl and she's smiling over at her as she draws near. "Awww, Eila did a good job fixing it up!" she says brightly, then looks up as Oysric greets. "Hey there Oys. How're you?"
With a flourish, Eila ties off that last stitch, and the blanket is good as new! Well, almost. But Attie seems content enough to reach up and accept her comfort blanket and she wraps her around it before extending a hand to Eila, too. "Come." It's a command the nanny can't seem to deny, because she stands with a sheepish little smile to Oysric. "Hi. And bye!" To the both of them, as she's pulled bt little Attie towards the nursery.
Oysric hefts saddle and points with the hide toward the classroom, telling Milani: "Was just with the first group of kids I'll be teaching how to ride." Despite the neutrality that is part of his voice, one can't help notice that smile of anticipation on his face. His brows twitch upwards at watching Eila's quick departure, curiousity as his pale hazel eyes follow her out. Soon, however, they swing back to Millie, answering Hayda's assistant more formally: "I'm well enough."
Milani waves as Eila and Attie head off. "See you!" she says gaily. "And I'll bring those beads around!" She watches the pair set off and pulls her abacus closer, starts tallying again. "Teaching to ride? Oh nice!" she tells Oysric brightly. "Good to hear you're good though. We've got all sorts of tithes coming in."
Oysric nods once to Milani, telling her: "Figured I had been talking about too long without much action." He moves to a nearby comfortable chair, but rather than sit down on it, he instead places the saddle and hide there. One more look to make sure his items are not moving and his attention sweeps back to Millie. "First lesson went well enough," he offers. And then, finally, perhaps grudgingly accepting the order of small talk, he asks her: "And you, Milani, how are you?"
"Well then, congratulations on action," Milani says sunnily and makes another note on the ledger. "And for the lesson going well too. The kids are liking it?" More notes and she looks up and over at the stablehand with a little sideways smile. "I'm very well, thanks. Busy, but that's sort of you know, normal for this time of the turn."
"Wanted them to know what a runner really looked like," he says, pointing to the hide. "Just a picture of one. Show them the hoofs, flanks, showed them the saddle." He pauses and admits, "The next lesson's in the stables, showin' them a runner up close and personal, let them talk to her and all." He smiles once more, albeit briefly. "Looking forward to eggs on the sands again?" Oys asks her, curious.
"Oh good strategy there," Milani says approvingly, "step by step," she continues with a bob of her head. "That'll be nice too, right in the stables, hands on. You know I actually kind of like the smell in there?" And then a lift of shoulders. "I don't know if looking forward is the right way to put it, but it's certainly /interesting/ when there's Candidates about."
"Not sure I could say the same," Oysric tells her dryly. "Muck is muck from whatever animal it came from." There's a brief look to the saddle again, as if checking to see that it still sits on the chair. "Step by step," he remarks less dry, his baritone rasping gently. "Keeps it simple-like for them." He nods once more at Millie's response of the candidates, not seeming to add anything to that comment but silent agreement.
"Oh not the doodoo," Milani says with a wave of her hand and makes a face. "But the tack, the runners themselves, you know?" And her head bobs energetically. "Exactly, which you know seems like a really good idea with kids." Simple-like. "it'll just be another busy autumn, you know."
"Aren't they always busy?" Oys asks her, smiling faintly toward her. "But I know what you mean. I wouldn't be a stablehand if I didn't like all of it." He shrugs briefly, moving to take the saddle off the chair, putting it on the table nearby. It gives him space to sit down now, apparently tiring of having to stand.
"Pretty much, though some are busier than others. When there's tithe, and Candidates and criminal traders around it kind of makes for /very/ busy, just tithe an Candidates, extra busy, and just tithe is just regular busy," Milani ticks off on her fingers and folds her hands atop her ledger. "I think that liking what you do? Is great."
"Just work," he admits to her. "But it's work I love." He takes a deep breath. Afterwards, when he's stretched out on that chair, he takes his boots off, untying the lacing from one boot, then the other, then slipping them off with an audible sound of pleasure. "Better," he remarks. Back to the topic at hand, however, for the stablehand. "I wouldn't know," Oysric informs Milani. "I'm more of a nose to the ground, let's get the work done kind of guy."
"For the best really, can you imagine if you /hated/ your work?" MIlani posits, tapping pencil atop open ledger. "Would you like a foot rub too?" she suggests pertly, mouth sliding to the side humourously. A nod about the state of the Weyr. "Probably for the best. Easier not to get any illusions about life shattered," she says with just the faintest hint of bitterness in her voice, though it's fleeting.
"Never," Oysric tells Milani, inable to think of such an option of /hating/ his work. "I'm not sure my brother would approve," he offers to the idea of a footrub. "Speaking of which, have you talked to him recently?" he asks, curious. "What with the Senior from Ista stepping down."
"A /friendly/ one," Milani says with a little roll of her eyes ceilingward and taps her pencil on the clipboard again, looks away. "Mm. I've seen him," she says quietly. "I -- don't really know how that's all going to play out."
"You think he'd stay?" he asks, surprised. "Hope that 'koth would win that junior-now-acting-senior's gold's flight whenever it happens?" He shakes his head before shrugging once. "I suppose he might do that," Oysric admits quietly. "I don't need a foot rub though, but thanks for the offer."
"I ... don't know," Milani says softly and looks down at her work, face thoughtful. "Of course Nikoth's a very able bronze," she speaks confidently about the dragon. "But I guess a part of me hopes he'll come home and I know that's selfish, but it'd be nice to have him back here." Her lips press together briefly and she flips the ledger closed, messes with the beads on the abacus. "It's okay, Oys. I'm glad your feet feel better."
"Then call me selfish too," Oysric intones, baritone rasping with emotion. "There's a large part of me that hopes he comes back to High Reaches." A pause and Oysric comments thoughtfully, "Though, is it really his home?" He slowly rolls his shoulders in a subtle shrug, adding: "Maybe to us, but to him? He's got salt water in his veins now." And there's a sigh, an audible one too. "I think Ista's his home now," the stablehand admits.
"I know," Milani says, elbows finding a home atop the table and her chin rests in her hands. "He made it so. Made it become a part of him, Ista. But he's Reaches blood, who's to say you can't come home again?" And clearly there's longing in her voice. "It'd just be nice to be able to be with him, /really/ with him out in the /open/, Oys, which isn't going to happen while he's Weyrleader. Ever."
"Ever," Oys repeats, considering the word as if he hadn't heard it before. Beats pass. "I suppose you are right in that, Millie." He looks up from his seat, studying the assistant headwoman. No other words are spoken, but from the look of it, he does appear sympathetic to Milani's plight.
Silence on Milani's side of the table, fingers pushing her pencil back and forth. "We'll ... just have to see," she says slowly and looks up and over at Oysric with a small smile.
Oysric offers a look of encouragement right back at Milani. Almost like a brother to a sister. Oysric sits on a chair with a children's saddle nearby on the table, along with a hide tied up beside it. "Suppose we will," Oys admits, growing silent again.
A slow, lazy stroll brings C'len into the common room, a thin hide in his hand that he's studying--much to the exclusion of everything else going on around him.
Milani smiles over at Oysric, reaches over with light fingers briefly aimed towards the stablehand's arm. Afternoon is slowly drifting away and the assistant headwoman has a mass of work on the table before her. "Whenever the next gold rises at Ista," she confirms.
"And what of X'lar?" Oysric asks, smirking back at Milani. "Didn't you say you knew him? Have you talked to him since the flight /here/?" Apparently the discussion swirls around the topic of gold flights. Oysric spots C'len as the rider strolls in reading his hide, calling out to him: "I suspect walking and reading might be a hazard to your health, rider."
The timely advice from Oysric finds C'len pausing, stopping to find the source of the remark, just next to a couple kids sitting on the floor playing that he manages not to step on, but around. "Ah," said with a grin, then a shake of his head. "Sometimes it's hard not to get caught up in interesting things." He nods both to Oysric and Milani, grinning again.
Milani looks around as Oysric hails C'len and her face creases with sympathy. "Oh yeah, I get like that sometimes with books," and she smiles brightly at the bronzerider. A look back towards Oysric and she smiles. "X'lar? I've talked to him a few times. He's sweet on Lu. NIce for them that Malsaeth won, eh?"
"I'd suggest /not/ getting caught up /that/ much," Oys intones, emphatically at the right points. He gets up and grabs the child's saddle and the rolled up hide displaying a runner. "I'll take your word for it," he tells Milani with a smirk. "I should return these to the stables and head to the bathing pool for a soak." And then, to Milani, he suggests: "Clouds shouldn't be too bad for the stars tonight." Is that minute excitement creeping into his normally neutral voice? The stablehand leaves the commons for the inner caverns, giving C'len one last nod before departing completely.
"Enjoy your soak," C'len remarks to the departing man, not commenting further on his suggestion. The rider drops into an available seat, taking a moment to stretch out, the object of his earlier interest still held in his hand. "X'lar, he's the Istan, right? I don't think I've met him. We were visiting Boll when Rielsath went up, but I heard it was a good flight."
"Have a nice soak, Oys," Milani says earnestly and she beams at him about the stars. "I might come out later, and I promise I won't speak." She watches him go then turns towards C'len, cheek pillowing in hand. "It as long enough anyway. Should be a good clutch and yes, X'lar's from Ista."
C'len reaches down to slap at something near his leg, perhaps an insect of some kind, but then he's sitting back in his seat again. "That's good to hear. Boll was nice, though a bit warm. It was nice to have all the fresh juice I could want, though!"
"Oh yes, Boll's a lovely place. I like to go down there with my brothers. Swim at the beach. Stop by the Weaver Hall to see my friend Amerie and check out the clothing." Milani starts to stack up ledgers, apparently calling it quits on this stuff for now.
C'len nods, "Maybe next time I'll see if I can sneak some fruit back." He lifts the ede of the hide in his lap, "A recipe from my da that he wanted me to try out and see what I think. It's nice to have a little more time to do that, this days--" He breaks off, thoughtful for a moment.
"It's good stuff," Milani agrees about the fruit. "Oh that's right! You're like Paddy, you were a Baker. He's always doing that too. Thinking about cooking stuff now there's more time."
"Ah, haven't seen Paddy in a while. How is he? How're you, too?" A look over his shoulder at the place where Oysric departed, then C'len turns back with brows slightly lifted as if to suggest something, but he doesn't come out and say it.
"He's good, he transferred to Ista," Milani explains with a grin. "He's weyrmated to T'mic now, greenrider down there. And I'm ... pretty good. Just busy with the tithe season, you know," and she gestures towards the stack of ledgers with her abacus on top. The kids keep playing in the background as the Reachian afternoon starts to stretch long towards the super hour.
C'len shakes his head, "Don't know T'mic, but sounds like a good move for him. At least it's warmer at Ista." Still after so many turns, the rider hasn't grown comfortable with the weather, though the summer certainly takes the chill out of the air.
"He's a greenrider," Milani explains, "very sweet, very loose, and very funny." She smirks a little and then shrugs. "Too warm. Paddy's not really into the weather there. But he'll get used to it. I just make sure to dress very /light/ when I go down there."
Hali is carrying a sack over her shoulder which is characteristic of her appearances these days. She looks a little put out, her attention seeminly elsewhere as she settles down on one of the comfy chairs. The bag is slung onto the ground where it sags open, and the many letters from today's delivery can be seen. She pulls some of them out, sighs, and begins sorting them on the ground in front of her.
Leova enters the cavern with her usual long stride, surveying it like she's hunting... and that name catches her ear, sending her in that direction right past the comfy chairs and the assistant postmaster, even before her wingmate's voice clicks in. And. Red hair, her destination in any case. A nod to C'len. And then, right as Milani finishes, "Then it's true? He's really moving?"
C'len says, "Already did, I think," before lifting a hand to wave at both Hali and Leova. His interest veers toward the sack of letters, curiosity fueling his interest, but no questions come from him; no sense bothering the obviously-busy girl. "I'll make sure to say hi next time I stop by there."
"Hi Leova!" Milani says brightly, sitting up and folding her legs up like a vtol in front of her on the edge of her seat. "Paddy? Yeah, he's moved. About a seven back," she tells the greenrider. "Took Palia and his couch and went." She tips a look over at Hali, eyeing the mail bag. "Anything in from Ista?" Hopeful.
Hali slides from her cushy seat to the ground as she continues to make piles. The large table seems taken, and the floor is the next best thing in the common room. She glances briefly up towards Milani as she's addressed, then begins digging more furiously in the sack of letters. "Maybe. Milani, Milani..." At least she knows the names of the assistant headwomen. The postmaster pulls out a few yellowed envelopes, creased and worn along the edges. "Ah." One of them is held out to Milani. "Looks like it's taken its time getting here."
Leova leans on the back of Millie's chair as long as she's sitting up, draws in a whistly breath through her teeth. "Moved." She shakes her head, half-frowns. Follows her glance toward Hali, pauses at that unfamiliar face, /Envelope/, though: even as she eyes it, "Know her brother well, C'len, or just acquainted?"
C'len draws his attention away from the ever-interesting pile of mail that Hali is sorting through, to Leova's question. "Huh? Oh, uh," a shrug, "I don't know if I know him well. We both like to bake, though." As if that's an important unifying factor.
That envelope is taken from Hali with a barely disguised expression of hope and Millie sets it down atop her clipboard, hands folded down on top of it in turn. "Mm. All moved in, new wing, the works. He sounds happy," she tells Leova, voice light, scans the greenrider's face then looks over towards C'len, nods. "They both bake and their dragons have both flown Nalaieth," the assistant sums up.
Hali pauses her sorting to listen to the contents of the message. "Sometimes it's nice to know exactly what it is I'm delivering," she remarks, then continues with her sorting. The other letters from Ista are put in their own pile. "Anyone else expecting anything?" she asks the room. "Though I think the rest of you will have to tell me your names. I'm still learning."
"Bake: anything in particular? Heard he had quite the porcine roast, out Fort way." If the greenrider's attention wavers down over MIlani's shoulder, that stops when the younger woman folds her arms over that envelope. "That's the Istan jun... no, wait, Acting, it is now. Unless someone's... no." To the assistant postmaster, but only after a quieter moment, "Not expecting anything. But. Leova, Vrianth's-with-a-V. You are?"
C'len takes a long moment to consider the question, as if he's building up a long list of everything he's ever baked. In the end, though, he admits, "I'm more into sweets, myself. Cookies are my favorite." He doesn't quite follow Leova's other comments, instead following her lead and introducing himself to Hali. "C'len. Can't imagine I got anything, since I was just at Boll visiting da."
The envelope remains unopened atop the clipboard and Milani's hands obscure the writing on the front, though she's trying not to look like that's what she's doing. "Mail is always nice to get," she says brightly and beams around at the others. "Paddy? Oh sure, cobbler and pie and all sorts of good things and yes, yes they did. Big pig roast. Lots of food. I didn't make it myself, though you should've seen the spread at Jaivery's birthday." Babble babble babble. "Oh /cookies/ are good, and you should totally make some cookies soon, C'len." More babble. But Millie is stacking the ledgers up, stacking the clipboard on top, the letter too. "So any mail for my friends?" she asks Hali, still all brightness.
"Hali. Assistant postmaster, though that's obvious enough I'm sure." Hali sorts a few more letters, and soon there's five different piles on the ground. "I haven't found anything for C'len or Leova, but I've still got half a bag left to look through. Maybe I'll find something." She crosses her legs as she sits on the floor, leaning back briefly to stretch her back before resuming. "And maybe there's something with someone else. We got a shelling ton of mail today, or I wouldn't be sorting it here."
"That would explain it, then," Leova mentions sidelong to her wingmate, but then there's an ocean of words washing over her and then Millie stacking, to boot, and she straightens instead of saying more right off. Finally, though: "Won't be holding my breath. Where you in from, Hali?"
C'len waves the recipe held in his hand a bit, "You'll get some when I try out this recipe from da. We'll have to see if they're any good." The tall man pushes himself out of his seat, but not before saying to Hali, "Nice t'meet you. Hate to run, but Vil's complaining that he's itchy. He gets that way after we go anywhere warm." C'len smirks slightly, "Sometimes I wonder if it's just his way of complaining about the heat. Have a nice evening, all."
"Excellent!" Milani exclaims for C'len's declaration and /beams/ at him. She's got everything all ready to go and balances the stack in her arms. "And I hope Vildaeth feels better after some oil, C'len. I'd be itchy too if I got all sweaty," Millie, with a wise nod and then another pair of beaming smiles for Leova and Hali. "I'd better go set this aside for Hayda to review. THansk for the letter Hali! I'll um ... see you later Leova?" And there's brow-twitching and meaningful-looking at the greenrider as Millie sweeps off with that stuff. A short bit later, she's emerging ledger-less from Hayda's office and then skittering off to her room with that letter clutched in her hand like her life depends on it.
When: It is a summer afternoon, 14:45 of day 26, month 8, turn 17 of Interval 10.
Where: Common Room, High Reaches Weyr
What: Milani's doing work in the Common Room and a rotating cast of characters all stop by to chat at points throughout the afternoon. Tithes are coming in and among them is a massive shipment of wooden beads that Millie offers Eila a share of. Millie and Oys talk about Ista and Istans. C'len's plotting cookies. Just before supper, Hali the assistant post-master has a letter for Millie from Ista. And Leova as usual, is very observant.
Afternoon on a warm late summer day finds Milani indoors? What is this? Usually she takes off with work when she's done in the actual Stores to work outside as much as possible. But today, Millie is hunkered down in a chair with a stack of ledgers a mile high, mumbling as she works her abacus like it's going out of style. Flick, flick, flick beads fly as she tallies and sums and reconciles and goodness knows what else in the ledgers.
And while it might not be terribly surprising to find Eila inside, to see her without a trailing of children might come as one. Instead, she's a shoulderful of basket and her hands wrapped about a ratty white blanket, and, without seeming to even look about the cavern, she heads unerringly for Milani and collapses into a nearby chair, spreading that fabric out in front of her - revealing a worn hole in the middle. Quickly enough her purpose becomes clear as she produces from that basket needle and thread and applies one to the other.
Milani tips the ledger she's working on downward and peers as Eila flops. Blue-green eyes trace the shape of that hole and she winces a little. "Oh that doesn't look good. Think you can mend it Eila? I have a really nice white blanket that Shan gave me, llama fleece," she explains and chews on the end of her pencil.
Blink. Blue eyes shift from threaded needle to Milani, as though in surprise, and Eila wrinkles her nose just a bit and shakes at the blanket. "I think so - I hope so. It's Attie's favourite - entrusted to my care, you know!" And the nanny gently brings the white woven fabric nearer to inspect the hole, squinting and speaking without looking over to Milani. "Llama? This might be..." Llama? It's wooly, at least. "What're you...?" Finally she does look over to the headwoman assistant's work, and has a little cringe of her own. "Work, work, work?"
"Oh I hope so too if it's for one of the kids!" Milani says sincerely. "And yes, you know llama, lots of llamas up around here. And their fleece is softer than sheep's wool," she points out. The ledgers get a look and a laugh. "Work work work. It's tithing season."
Eila's basket seems to be replete with anything a hopeful seamstress could desire, judging by the half-open lid. But for the moment she's keeping things simple - a pure white thread, neatly knotted once put through the eye of the needle, begins to stitch up the ragged hole. She nods, absently: "I've seen them before. The fleece is /marvellous/. Oh, tithes?" A little laugh. "Nothing interesting, I gather?"
"Yes, fluffy almost on some of it. I love my blanket," Milani states happily about the llama fleece and nods about the tithes. "Well a lot of the usual, but there's always something interesting in every tithe," she points out, mouth pulling to the side a little with humor.
The corners of that tear is gradually pulling together, carefully, with much squinting and leaning in and even a pulled and redone stitch or two on Eila's part. "Who'd you say gave it to you?" The young nanny asks a bit distractedly as she picks out another loop of thread. "I'll have to see about getting a new one, mine right now are all tatty. Something particularly interesting in this lot?" Asked with a bit of a smile directed towards Milani.
"Shanlee, greenrider," Milani says with a warm smile and pulls her pencil out of her mouth to make a few notations, abacus clicking again. "Beads," Millie says succinctly. "One of the small holds between here and Pars sent beads. Wooden beads."
"Shanl-" Eila begins, shakes her head. "I don't think I know her." Accidentally pokes at her finger with that needle, and spends a moment sucking on her fingertip. "Ow." The word is quiet, lightly, mostly to herself and she quickly perks up, sitting straight at that mention. "Beads? Did they really? Oh, you can do the most /fascinating/ things with beads."
"Nice person," Milani explains further about the greenrider in question. "Oo, you okay? I hate it when I stick my finger. But then I don't really sew so it hardly ever happens," the assistant muses aloud then nods. "Yep. Boxes and boxes of beads. Apparently they had a good crop of some kind of tree or something and that's what they turned them into. Beads."
Eila touches her finger to her tongue one last time, shakes her hand, and then smiles over to Milani, though she does spend another moment pinching at the pad of her finger. No more blood here, and she grouses, "You'd think I'd be better at sewing, I was the thread-and-stuff girl with the caravan. But I guess that's sort of like saying a dragonhealer can fly because she works with dragons." Is it? It's an analogy, at least. "What're - do you know what you're planning to do with them?"
"Okay, good it's okay," Milani says definitely. "And yeah, I mean, I know lots about numbers and ledgers and Stores and what we all eat, but I can't make any of it!" Millie announces, the analogy not quite right. "The beads? For now, I'm putting them in Store Room F and hoping the kids can use them for crafts."
Milani's addition to the analogy earns a baffled sort of grin from the nanny, who however nods understandingly. The blanket's picked up again, needle secured and fingers tucked away and Eila returns to the sewing. "Oh - oh, do you think I could use a few, too? I mean, not too many. Of course they'd be wonderful for crafts - glue them to paper, thread them and make necklaces... They make good eyes. Well. For snowmen and stuff - 'stoo warm for that, right now, I guess." Nod, nod, nod.
"There's so /many/ Eila, I think we might actually be using these beads for turns and turns to come. I don't know what to think if they send another load /next/ turn," Milani confesses. "So, certainly." And she pulls a sheet from one of her clipboards, makes a note. "I'll bring you a jar of them, how's that?"
The reassurances garner a pleased little sigh, and Eila sits back in her chair to cast a delighted smile towards Milani. "Really? You would? I just - in my spare time, I make bracelets. And so far they've just been plain sort of bracelets, but I haven't been able to find a good way to fasten them..." The girl tails off, nods. Can't suppress another happy little smile. "Thank you! We can hope they don't have quite such a good tree harvest or whatever next year, eh? Wouldn't do to have the stores overflowing with beads."
"Well then, done deal, one jar of wooden beads to Eila. And if it's clasps you need, well I know where those boxes are. What kind of clasps are you looking for?" Milani's head ducks though mirth on her face. "Oh well I wouldn't wish ill on their tree crop, but you know, yes, a good supply of beads is all well and good, but this was .. a little much."
"Not - well, no, I don't want to - they look so nice when it's a little wood bead holding the whole thing together. And the last time I tried to tie on a clasp I ended up with more knot than clasp!" Eila, passing all her handiwork to one hand, mimes with the other a large, unwieldy clump. The headwoman assistant's next words have the girl sitting forward, tilting her head curiously. "Just how many beads did they send, Milani?"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Milani says as understanding dawns. "I didn't think of that. That would look nice, though," she says with a definite nod. "Especially these beads. THey are /nice/ beads, all a little different." She sighs though at that last, looks over at Eila sheepishly. "Three thousand, six hundred and forty five beads."
"/Three thousa-/...!" Eila starts, stops, starts, shakes her head and blinks. "You didn't - you didn't have to /count/ them all yourself, did you?" The thought brings a horrorfied rounding to Eila's grey eyes, and she picks at the blanket without even looking at it, instead turning that anxious-on-Milani's-behalf look on the other woman.
"Oh /shells/ no, they came with a count," Milani says with a little wave. "But I did divvy up the work amongst the other assistants to cross-check the inventory of course and it was right. We did two counts in fact." She smiles over at Eila with a little shrug. "Such is the job."
"Phew." Relief paints itself visible across Eila's features, and she grins ruefully, shaking her head just a little. "For your sake, at least, I'm glad of that." And not for the sake of those poor recounters? At least nannies didn't have to count past, oh, say, twenty or so. But the girl moves about a bit in her seat, lifting her head to glance about the cavern. "If you see - oh, there she is!" Little Attie, maybe, and thankfully the blanket is (mostly) all sewed up, as the tiny form heads straight for Eila and Milani seated at a table. "Bwankiedone?"
Oysric walks into the resident common room, strangely from the classroom, one hide tucked underneath his arm. His free hand holds a small saddle, likely one used by older children. He passes through the common room with an expression of curiousity, looking from Milani to Eila, considering them both. Or perhaps he's considering the situation. Does he make a run for it or stay put? "Afternoon," Oys intones, even including Attie in his greeting.
"Counting isn't so bad, I'm good with numbers," Milani says doggedly, proud of that skill apparently. But then there's that little girl and she's smiling over at her as she draws near. "Awww, Eila did a good job fixing it up!" she says brightly, then looks up as Oysric greets. "Hey there Oys. How're you?"
With a flourish, Eila ties off that last stitch, and the blanket is good as new! Well, almost. But Attie seems content enough to reach up and accept her comfort blanket and she wraps her around it before extending a hand to Eila, too. "Come." It's a command the nanny can't seem to deny, because she stands with a sheepish little smile to Oysric. "Hi. And bye!" To the both of them, as she's pulled bt little Attie towards the nursery.
Oysric hefts saddle and points with the hide toward the classroom, telling Milani: "Was just with the first group of kids I'll be teaching how to ride." Despite the neutrality that is part of his voice, one can't help notice that smile of anticipation on his face. His brows twitch upwards at watching Eila's quick departure, curiousity as his pale hazel eyes follow her out. Soon, however, they swing back to Millie, answering Hayda's assistant more formally: "I'm well enough."
Milani waves as Eila and Attie head off. "See you!" she says gaily. "And I'll bring those beads around!" She watches the pair set off and pulls her abacus closer, starts tallying again. "Teaching to ride? Oh nice!" she tells Oysric brightly. "Good to hear you're good though. We've got all sorts of tithes coming in."
Oysric nods once to Milani, telling her: "Figured I had been talking about too long without much action." He moves to a nearby comfortable chair, but rather than sit down on it, he instead places the saddle and hide there. One more look to make sure his items are not moving and his attention sweeps back to Millie. "First lesson went well enough," he offers. And then, finally, perhaps grudgingly accepting the order of small talk, he asks her: "And you, Milani, how are you?"
"Well then, congratulations on action," Milani says sunnily and makes another note on the ledger. "And for the lesson going well too. The kids are liking it?" More notes and she looks up and over at the stablehand with a little sideways smile. "I'm very well, thanks. Busy, but that's sort of you know, normal for this time of the turn."
"Wanted them to know what a runner really looked like," he says, pointing to the hide. "Just a picture of one. Show them the hoofs, flanks, showed them the saddle." He pauses and admits, "The next lesson's in the stables, showin' them a runner up close and personal, let them talk to her and all." He smiles once more, albeit briefly. "Looking forward to eggs on the sands again?" Oys asks her, curious.
"Oh good strategy there," Milani says approvingly, "step by step," she continues with a bob of her head. "That'll be nice too, right in the stables, hands on. You know I actually kind of like the smell in there?" And then a lift of shoulders. "I don't know if looking forward is the right way to put it, but it's certainly /interesting/ when there's Candidates about."
"Not sure I could say the same," Oysric tells her dryly. "Muck is muck from whatever animal it came from." There's a brief look to the saddle again, as if checking to see that it still sits on the chair. "Step by step," he remarks less dry, his baritone rasping gently. "Keeps it simple-like for them." He nods once more at Millie's response of the candidates, not seeming to add anything to that comment but silent agreement.
"Oh not the doodoo," Milani says with a wave of her hand and makes a face. "But the tack, the runners themselves, you know?" And her head bobs energetically. "Exactly, which you know seems like a really good idea with kids." Simple-like. "it'll just be another busy autumn, you know."
"Aren't they always busy?" Oys asks her, smiling faintly toward her. "But I know what you mean. I wouldn't be a stablehand if I didn't like all of it." He shrugs briefly, moving to take the saddle off the chair, putting it on the table nearby. It gives him space to sit down now, apparently tiring of having to stand.
"Pretty much, though some are busier than others. When there's tithe, and Candidates and criminal traders around it kind of makes for /very/ busy, just tithe an Candidates, extra busy, and just tithe is just regular busy," Milani ticks off on her fingers and folds her hands atop her ledger. "I think that liking what you do? Is great."
"Just work," he admits to her. "But it's work I love." He takes a deep breath. Afterwards, when he's stretched out on that chair, he takes his boots off, untying the lacing from one boot, then the other, then slipping them off with an audible sound of pleasure. "Better," he remarks. Back to the topic at hand, however, for the stablehand. "I wouldn't know," Oysric informs Milani. "I'm more of a nose to the ground, let's get the work done kind of guy."
"For the best really, can you imagine if you /hated/ your work?" MIlani posits, tapping pencil atop open ledger. "Would you like a foot rub too?" she suggests pertly, mouth sliding to the side humourously. A nod about the state of the Weyr. "Probably for the best. Easier not to get any illusions about life shattered," she says with just the faintest hint of bitterness in her voice, though it's fleeting.
"Never," Oysric tells Milani, inable to think of such an option of /hating/ his work. "I'm not sure my brother would approve," he offers to the idea of a footrub. "Speaking of which, have you talked to him recently?" he asks, curious. "What with the Senior from Ista stepping down."
"A /friendly/ one," Milani says with a little roll of her eyes ceilingward and taps her pencil on the clipboard again, looks away. "Mm. I've seen him," she says quietly. "I -- don't really know how that's all going to play out."
"You think he'd stay?" he asks, surprised. "Hope that 'koth would win that junior-now-acting-senior's gold's flight whenever it happens?" He shakes his head before shrugging once. "I suppose he might do that," Oysric admits quietly. "I don't need a foot rub though, but thanks for the offer."
"I ... don't know," Milani says softly and looks down at her work, face thoughtful. "Of course Nikoth's a very able bronze," she speaks confidently about the dragon. "But I guess a part of me hopes he'll come home and I know that's selfish, but it'd be nice to have him back here." Her lips press together briefly and she flips the ledger closed, messes with the beads on the abacus. "It's okay, Oys. I'm glad your feet feel better."
"Then call me selfish too," Oysric intones, baritone rasping with emotion. "There's a large part of me that hopes he comes back to High Reaches." A pause and Oysric comments thoughtfully, "Though, is it really his home?" He slowly rolls his shoulders in a subtle shrug, adding: "Maybe to us, but to him? He's got salt water in his veins now." And there's a sigh, an audible one too. "I think Ista's his home now," the stablehand admits.
"I know," Milani says, elbows finding a home atop the table and her chin rests in her hands. "He made it so. Made it become a part of him, Ista. But he's Reaches blood, who's to say you can't come home again?" And clearly there's longing in her voice. "It'd just be nice to be able to be with him, /really/ with him out in the /open/, Oys, which isn't going to happen while he's Weyrleader. Ever."
"Ever," Oys repeats, considering the word as if he hadn't heard it before. Beats pass. "I suppose you are right in that, Millie." He looks up from his seat, studying the assistant headwoman. No other words are spoken, but from the look of it, he does appear sympathetic to Milani's plight.
Silence on Milani's side of the table, fingers pushing her pencil back and forth. "We'll ... just have to see," she says slowly and looks up and over at Oysric with a small smile.
Oysric offers a look of encouragement right back at Milani. Almost like a brother to a sister. Oysric sits on a chair with a children's saddle nearby on the table, along with a hide tied up beside it. "Suppose we will," Oys admits, growing silent again.
A slow, lazy stroll brings C'len into the common room, a thin hide in his hand that he's studying--much to the exclusion of everything else going on around him.
Milani smiles over at Oysric, reaches over with light fingers briefly aimed towards the stablehand's arm. Afternoon is slowly drifting away and the assistant headwoman has a mass of work on the table before her. "Whenever the next gold rises at Ista," she confirms.
"And what of X'lar?" Oysric asks, smirking back at Milani. "Didn't you say you knew him? Have you talked to him since the flight /here/?" Apparently the discussion swirls around the topic of gold flights. Oysric spots C'len as the rider strolls in reading his hide, calling out to him: "I suspect walking and reading might be a hazard to your health, rider."
The timely advice from Oysric finds C'len pausing, stopping to find the source of the remark, just next to a couple kids sitting on the floor playing that he manages not to step on, but around. "Ah," said with a grin, then a shake of his head. "Sometimes it's hard not to get caught up in interesting things." He nods both to Oysric and Milani, grinning again.
Milani looks around as Oysric hails C'len and her face creases with sympathy. "Oh yeah, I get like that sometimes with books," and she smiles brightly at the bronzerider. A look back towards Oysric and she smiles. "X'lar? I've talked to him a few times. He's sweet on Lu. NIce for them that Malsaeth won, eh?"
"I'd suggest /not/ getting caught up /that/ much," Oys intones, emphatically at the right points. He gets up and grabs the child's saddle and the rolled up hide displaying a runner. "I'll take your word for it," he tells Milani with a smirk. "I should return these to the stables and head to the bathing pool for a soak." And then, to Milani, he suggests: "Clouds shouldn't be too bad for the stars tonight." Is that minute excitement creeping into his normally neutral voice? The stablehand leaves the commons for the inner caverns, giving C'len one last nod before departing completely.
"Enjoy your soak," C'len remarks to the departing man, not commenting further on his suggestion. The rider drops into an available seat, taking a moment to stretch out, the object of his earlier interest still held in his hand. "X'lar, he's the Istan, right? I don't think I've met him. We were visiting Boll when Rielsath went up, but I heard it was a good flight."
"Have a nice soak, Oys," Milani says earnestly and she beams at him about the stars. "I might come out later, and I promise I won't speak." She watches him go then turns towards C'len, cheek pillowing in hand. "It as long enough anyway. Should be a good clutch and yes, X'lar's from Ista."
C'len reaches down to slap at something near his leg, perhaps an insect of some kind, but then he's sitting back in his seat again. "That's good to hear. Boll was nice, though a bit warm. It was nice to have all the fresh juice I could want, though!"
"Oh yes, Boll's a lovely place. I like to go down there with my brothers. Swim at the beach. Stop by the Weaver Hall to see my friend Amerie and check out the clothing." Milani starts to stack up ledgers, apparently calling it quits on this stuff for now.
C'len nods, "Maybe next time I'll see if I can sneak some fruit back." He lifts the ede of the hide in his lap, "A recipe from my da that he wanted me to try out and see what I think. It's nice to have a little more time to do that, this days--" He breaks off, thoughtful for a moment.
"It's good stuff," Milani agrees about the fruit. "Oh that's right! You're like Paddy, you were a Baker. He's always doing that too. Thinking about cooking stuff now there's more time."
"Ah, haven't seen Paddy in a while. How is he? How're you, too?" A look over his shoulder at the place where Oysric departed, then C'len turns back with brows slightly lifted as if to suggest something, but he doesn't come out and say it.
"He's good, he transferred to Ista," Milani explains with a grin. "He's weyrmated to T'mic now, greenrider down there. And I'm ... pretty good. Just busy with the tithe season, you know," and she gestures towards the stack of ledgers with her abacus on top. The kids keep playing in the background as the Reachian afternoon starts to stretch long towards the super hour.
C'len shakes his head, "Don't know T'mic, but sounds like a good move for him. At least it's warmer at Ista." Still after so many turns, the rider hasn't grown comfortable with the weather, though the summer certainly takes the chill out of the air.
"He's a greenrider," Milani explains, "very sweet, very loose, and very funny." She smirks a little and then shrugs. "Too warm. Paddy's not really into the weather there. But he'll get used to it. I just make sure to dress very /light/ when I go down there."
Hali is carrying a sack over her shoulder which is characteristic of her appearances these days. She looks a little put out, her attention seeminly elsewhere as she settles down on one of the comfy chairs. The bag is slung onto the ground where it sags open, and the many letters from today's delivery can be seen. She pulls some of them out, sighs, and begins sorting them on the ground in front of her.
Leova enters the cavern with her usual long stride, surveying it like she's hunting... and that name catches her ear, sending her in that direction right past the comfy chairs and the assistant postmaster, even before her wingmate's voice clicks in. And. Red hair, her destination in any case. A nod to C'len. And then, right as Milani finishes, "Then it's true? He's really moving?"
C'len says, "Already did, I think," before lifting a hand to wave at both Hali and Leova. His interest veers toward the sack of letters, curiosity fueling his interest, but no questions come from him; no sense bothering the obviously-busy girl. "I'll make sure to say hi next time I stop by there."
"Hi Leova!" Milani says brightly, sitting up and folding her legs up like a vtol in front of her on the edge of her seat. "Paddy? Yeah, he's moved. About a seven back," she tells the greenrider. "Took Palia and his couch and went." She tips a look over at Hali, eyeing the mail bag. "Anything in from Ista?" Hopeful.
Hali slides from her cushy seat to the ground as she continues to make piles. The large table seems taken, and the floor is the next best thing in the common room. She glances briefly up towards Milani as she's addressed, then begins digging more furiously in the sack of letters. "Maybe. Milani, Milani..." At least she knows the names of the assistant headwomen. The postmaster pulls out a few yellowed envelopes, creased and worn along the edges. "Ah." One of them is held out to Milani. "Looks like it's taken its time getting here."
Leova leans on the back of Millie's chair as long as she's sitting up, draws in a whistly breath through her teeth. "Moved." She shakes her head, half-frowns. Follows her glance toward Hali, pauses at that unfamiliar face, /Envelope/, though: even as she eyes it, "Know her brother well, C'len, or just acquainted?"
C'len draws his attention away from the ever-interesting pile of mail that Hali is sorting through, to Leova's question. "Huh? Oh, uh," a shrug, "I don't know if I know him well. We both like to bake, though." As if that's an important unifying factor.
That envelope is taken from Hali with a barely disguised expression of hope and Millie sets it down atop her clipboard, hands folded down on top of it in turn. "Mm. All moved in, new wing, the works. He sounds happy," she tells Leova, voice light, scans the greenrider's face then looks over towards C'len, nods. "They both bake and their dragons have both flown Nalaieth," the assistant sums up.
Hali pauses her sorting to listen to the contents of the message. "Sometimes it's nice to know exactly what it is I'm delivering," she remarks, then continues with her sorting. The other letters from Ista are put in their own pile. "Anyone else expecting anything?" she asks the room. "Though I think the rest of you will have to tell me your names. I'm still learning."
"Bake: anything in particular? Heard he had quite the porcine roast, out Fort way." If the greenrider's attention wavers down over MIlani's shoulder, that stops when the younger woman folds her arms over that envelope. "That's the Istan jun... no, wait, Acting, it is now. Unless someone's... no." To the assistant postmaster, but only after a quieter moment, "Not expecting anything. But. Leova, Vrianth's-with-a-V. You are?"
C'len takes a long moment to consider the question, as if he's building up a long list of everything he's ever baked. In the end, though, he admits, "I'm more into sweets, myself. Cookies are my favorite." He doesn't quite follow Leova's other comments, instead following her lead and introducing himself to Hali. "C'len. Can't imagine I got anything, since I was just at Boll visiting da."
The envelope remains unopened atop the clipboard and Milani's hands obscure the writing on the front, though she's trying not to look like that's what she's doing. "Mail is always nice to get," she says brightly and beams around at the others. "Paddy? Oh sure, cobbler and pie and all sorts of good things and yes, yes they did. Big pig roast. Lots of food. I didn't make it myself, though you should've seen the spread at Jaivery's birthday." Babble babble babble. "Oh /cookies/ are good, and you should totally make some cookies soon, C'len." More babble. But Millie is stacking the ledgers up, stacking the clipboard on top, the letter too. "So any mail for my friends?" she asks Hali, still all brightness.
"Hali. Assistant postmaster, though that's obvious enough I'm sure." Hali sorts a few more letters, and soon there's five different piles on the ground. "I haven't found anything for C'len or Leova, but I've still got half a bag left to look through. Maybe I'll find something." She crosses her legs as she sits on the floor, leaning back briefly to stretch her back before resuming. "And maybe there's something with someone else. We got a shelling ton of mail today, or I wouldn't be sorting it here."
"That would explain it, then," Leova mentions sidelong to her wingmate, but then there's an ocean of words washing over her and then Millie stacking, to boot, and she straightens instead of saying more right off. Finally, though: "Won't be holding my breath. Where you in from, Hali?"
C'len waves the recipe held in his hand a bit, "You'll get some when I try out this recipe from da. We'll have to see if they're any good." The tall man pushes himself out of his seat, but not before saying to Hali, "Nice t'meet you. Hate to run, but Vil's complaining that he's itchy. He gets that way after we go anywhere warm." C'len smirks slightly, "Sometimes I wonder if it's just his way of complaining about the heat. Have a nice evening, all."
"Excellent!" Milani exclaims for C'len's declaration and /beams/ at him. She's got everything all ready to go and balances the stack in her arms. "And I hope Vildaeth feels better after some oil, C'len. I'd be itchy too if I got all sweaty," Millie, with a wise nod and then another pair of beaming smiles for Leova and Hali. "I'd better go set this aside for Hayda to review. THansk for the letter Hali! I'll um ... see you later Leova?" And there's brow-twitching and meaningful-looking at the greenrider as Millie sweeps off with that stuff. A short bit later, she's emerging ledger-less from Hayda's office and then skittering off to her room with that letter clutched in her hand like her life depends on it.