No sense to get in from the cold.
Who: Miniyal and Rysia
Where: North bowl
When: 15:17 on day 2, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Bad weather doesn't mean an excuse to stay inside. Miniyal is lurking in the bowl and Rysia stumbles upon the lurker. They chat for a few moments, but the weather doesn't quite make for a decent setting. Also, proof Min is still her old self. Yay for awkward first meetings.
1/18/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 15:17 on day 2, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Who in their right mind is out in this weather? No one. Only those who are too stupid to get in from the cold. From the ice and the snow and the cold that sends bundled up bodies scurrying along as quick as they can. And then. . .there is Miniyal. Who, well, as usual has no coat. She sort of hovers near the entrance to the tunnel that would take, does take, the saner members of the weyr to the living cavern. To warmth and no ice and a general. . .ability to be alive and not gain frostbite upon one's toes and fingers. However, where is the fun in that? So, here she lingers. Against the wall and with her head down other than when she lifts it as part of the ritual of removing hair from her mouth where the wind has blown it.
Right mind? Who in High Reaches, though, is in their right mind? Just ask all the rest of Pern. Which explains why Rysia has left the living cavern, and is heading towards the bowl, though not /into/ it. As she slips on a bit of snow and ice tracked in, bouncing a bit off the nearby tunnel wall, it is probably clear why she's not quite that feckless, "Ow, shardit...." is grumbled, hip rubbed at, before she stops, and just takes a deep breath in, letting the heat-flush start to cool away.
Plenty of people have been slipping today. There is enough snow gathered in Miniyal's hair to indicate she's seen it. Stomping her feet, carefully so she does not wind up on the ground, she brushes a bit of snow from the sleeves of her sweater. She, surely, is cold. It's not as if she has any better way of keeping warm than those sensibly bundled up. Other than, in most cases, extra body weight. Her hair is once more pushed from her eyes and she observes Rysia appear. She might even had said something, but is suddenly more interested in watching a couple of Caucus students seeking a late lunch hurry along and nearly slide, rather than walk, those last few steps to the tunnel.
Rysia, once assured the wall will not attack her again, leans against it slightly, and looks out into the bowl. And spots Miniyal, along with all the snow. Her own breath turning white, it's no surprise she's already wrapping her arms around her waist, before she asks, "Ain't it a bit cold to be tryin' to become one with the weather out there?" Never mind she's not even grabbed a bit of blanket or shawl before coming out to do the same.
Miniyal's gaze tracks the caucus students until they are in the tunnel and out of sight. Only then does she turn her head that much farther so she might locate the sound of a voice. Rysia gets, lucky her, a shrug of the shoulders in response. Before saying anything else, the former everything current nothing, looks back out into the snow. "It's not that cold." No, of course not.
That garnish a look of disbelief, "An' have you been having plenty of ale and the like before hand, or should I just trip in awe and amazement?" There's a bit of a grin in the voice, on her face too, but not deliberately aimed /at/ anyone. Just in general. Mostly. Then, as an after thought, "Bet the healers are seein' no few broke an' sprain bits, folks venturing out so much."
"It is no colder here than it normally is this time of year. You get used to it." Or at least some people like to believe they have. Miniyal shrugs again and then shakes her head. "Haven't had enough to drink to not notice when it is cold." One hand brushes snow from the opposite sleeve of her sweater before she uses that same hand to push hair out of her face again. "It's not that treacherous if you're careful. It's not safe to be running about certainly, but it's just. . .not that bad."
Rysia shakes her head, "Lived here all my turns, an' I still notice when it's too cold to be bein' out. As for bein' careful... well... I still try to kill myself headin' up to the stores when need be, and it doesn't matter what part I pay attention to, I still end up tryin' to take a tumble. Clumsy, I'm afraid."
"Then why are you out?" Asked simply as Miniyal looks out across the bowl again. She has to squint into the wind and snow, but she seems to be more interested in whatever might be out there. At least to look at. "Clumsy can be fixed."
"Breakin' my neck isn't a good fix, however, and... it's hot inside. The air feels good, then.. well, less good. Almost to less good, but not quite."
Shaking her head, Miniyal's attention wanders back to Rysia for a moment. "I do not believe that was what I suggested. I would agree that it is not the preferred method, no. And it is always hot inside. The more people who show up the hotter it makes it. However, it is still preferred by most people than being outside in the freeze."
Rysia lifts one shoulder, and lets it fall, "Half the folks about are transplants from warmer places - an' while I enjoy a nice spot by the hearth to do my work... too-too much this afternoon. Get some bracing air, then go back inside - and find a job to be doin' in the storerooms, or some such, away from everyone else. Being warm is good, keeping folks warm keep me busy, but the entire Weyr in one cavern?" She mock shudders - which turns into an unfeigned shiver. "An' on that note... Enjoy your weather."
Miniyal gathers up her hair and pushes it over her shoulders with an annoyed sigh. "It is not the weather I'm here for, but. . .thank you, yes. And I hope you have a pleasant enough day." Shaking her head she curls her fingers into her skirt, seeking out pockets for them to rest in a moment and gather a reprieve from the cold. Or at least something of one. This allows her to simply nod at Rysia in farewell since she seems intent on rejoining the rest of the saner people.
Rysia briefly grin, "The lack of people then, perhaps? And if you find you need some blankets, or a shawl or some such to deal with the weather, just come an' visit us in the Weaver portion, or find me. Rysia, if I didn't be mentionin' a'fore..." and with that, the weaver-resident does indeed head back in to where it is less with the wind and the snow and the cold and ice.
Another nod at the name given, although Miniyal has to think for a moment before she remembers that manners dictate she provide her own. A frozen brain. "Miniyal," is offered and then with a resigned sort of sigh she leaves her spot by the wall and heads across the bowl. For whatever reason. Probably nothing worth the risk the trip provides.
Rysia shakes her head, and pauses a moment to watch the other woman head across the bowl... then heads off to get back to work. Idle hands, and all.
Where: North bowl
When: 15:17 on day 2, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Bad weather doesn't mean an excuse to stay inside. Miniyal is lurking in the bowl and Rysia stumbles upon the lurker. They chat for a few moments, but the weather doesn't quite make for a decent setting. Also, proof Min is still her old self. Yay for awkward first meetings.
1/18/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 15:17 on day 2, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Who in their right mind is out in this weather? No one. Only those who are too stupid to get in from the cold. From the ice and the snow and the cold that sends bundled up bodies scurrying along as quick as they can. And then. . .there is Miniyal. Who, well, as usual has no coat. She sort of hovers near the entrance to the tunnel that would take, does take, the saner members of the weyr to the living cavern. To warmth and no ice and a general. . .ability to be alive and not gain frostbite upon one's toes and fingers. However, where is the fun in that? So, here she lingers. Against the wall and with her head down other than when she lifts it as part of the ritual of removing hair from her mouth where the wind has blown it.
Right mind? Who in High Reaches, though, is in their right mind? Just ask all the rest of Pern. Which explains why Rysia has left the living cavern, and is heading towards the bowl, though not /into/ it. As she slips on a bit of snow and ice tracked in, bouncing a bit off the nearby tunnel wall, it is probably clear why she's not quite that feckless, "Ow, shardit...." is grumbled, hip rubbed at, before she stops, and just takes a deep breath in, letting the heat-flush start to cool away.
Plenty of people have been slipping today. There is enough snow gathered in Miniyal's hair to indicate she's seen it. Stomping her feet, carefully so she does not wind up on the ground, she brushes a bit of snow from the sleeves of her sweater. She, surely, is cold. It's not as if she has any better way of keeping warm than those sensibly bundled up. Other than, in most cases, extra body weight. Her hair is once more pushed from her eyes and she observes Rysia appear. She might even had said something, but is suddenly more interested in watching a couple of Caucus students seeking a late lunch hurry along and nearly slide, rather than walk, those last few steps to the tunnel.
Rysia, once assured the wall will not attack her again, leans against it slightly, and looks out into the bowl. And spots Miniyal, along with all the snow. Her own breath turning white, it's no surprise she's already wrapping her arms around her waist, before she asks, "Ain't it a bit cold to be tryin' to become one with the weather out there?" Never mind she's not even grabbed a bit of blanket or shawl before coming out to do the same.
Miniyal's gaze tracks the caucus students until they are in the tunnel and out of sight. Only then does she turn her head that much farther so she might locate the sound of a voice. Rysia gets, lucky her, a shrug of the shoulders in response. Before saying anything else, the former everything current nothing, looks back out into the snow. "It's not that cold." No, of course not.
That garnish a look of disbelief, "An' have you been having plenty of ale and the like before hand, or should I just trip in awe and amazement?" There's a bit of a grin in the voice, on her face too, but not deliberately aimed /at/ anyone. Just in general. Mostly. Then, as an after thought, "Bet the healers are seein' no few broke an' sprain bits, folks venturing out so much."
"It is no colder here than it normally is this time of year. You get used to it." Or at least some people like to believe they have. Miniyal shrugs again and then shakes her head. "Haven't had enough to drink to not notice when it is cold." One hand brushes snow from the opposite sleeve of her sweater before she uses that same hand to push hair out of her face again. "It's not that treacherous if you're careful. It's not safe to be running about certainly, but it's just. . .not that bad."
Rysia shakes her head, "Lived here all my turns, an' I still notice when it's too cold to be bein' out. As for bein' careful... well... I still try to kill myself headin' up to the stores when need be, and it doesn't matter what part I pay attention to, I still end up tryin' to take a tumble. Clumsy, I'm afraid."
"Then why are you out?" Asked simply as Miniyal looks out across the bowl again. She has to squint into the wind and snow, but she seems to be more interested in whatever might be out there. At least to look at. "Clumsy can be fixed."
"Breakin' my neck isn't a good fix, however, and... it's hot inside. The air feels good, then.. well, less good. Almost to less good, but not quite."
Shaking her head, Miniyal's attention wanders back to Rysia for a moment. "I do not believe that was what I suggested. I would agree that it is not the preferred method, no. And it is always hot inside. The more people who show up the hotter it makes it. However, it is still preferred by most people than being outside in the freeze."
Rysia lifts one shoulder, and lets it fall, "Half the folks about are transplants from warmer places - an' while I enjoy a nice spot by the hearth to do my work... too-too much this afternoon. Get some bracing air, then go back inside - and find a job to be doin' in the storerooms, or some such, away from everyone else. Being warm is good, keeping folks warm keep me busy, but the entire Weyr in one cavern?" She mock shudders - which turns into an unfeigned shiver. "An' on that note... Enjoy your weather."
Miniyal gathers up her hair and pushes it over her shoulders with an annoyed sigh. "It is not the weather I'm here for, but. . .thank you, yes. And I hope you have a pleasant enough day." Shaking her head she curls her fingers into her skirt, seeking out pockets for them to rest in a moment and gather a reprieve from the cold. Or at least something of one. This allows her to simply nod at Rysia in farewell since she seems intent on rejoining the rest of the saner people.
Rysia briefly grin, "The lack of people then, perhaps? And if you find you need some blankets, or a shawl or some such to deal with the weather, just come an' visit us in the Weaver portion, or find me. Rysia, if I didn't be mentionin' a'fore..." and with that, the weaver-resident does indeed head back in to where it is less with the wind and the snow and the cold and ice.
Another nod at the name given, although Miniyal has to think for a moment before she remembers that manners dictate she provide her own. A frozen brain. "Miniyal," is offered and then with a resigned sort of sigh she leaves her spot by the wall and heads across the bowl. For whatever reason. Probably nothing worth the risk the trip provides.
Rysia shakes her head, and pauses a moment to watch the other woman head across the bowl... then heads off to get back to work. Idle hands, and all.