Broken toys
Who: H'kon and Wistella (NPC)
Where: Weyr staff office
When: 14:58 on day 20, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: H'kon was asked to fix a toy by a child. He returns said toy to the head nanny.
1/27/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 14:58 on day 20, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Following a late lunch, the smell of which can still be found on his breath if one were to stand too close, and a short bout of awkward questioning, H'kon has been directed to the office. With the mid-day meal long since over for the majority of the Weyr's population, the office that he enters, with a rucksack thrown over his shoulder, is relatively busy with the comings and goings of all those important people, and their assistants, and those who have to report to them. As such, the brownrider's movements are stiff as he makes his way in through the door, craning his neck in an attempt to spot the woman he seeks, without too much giving away that he's looking. And he certainly doesn't move for a better vantage point once inside, quite happy to stay along the wall until his course has been properly set in his mind.
It is naptime, more or less. The children are lying down so Wistella spends her time in the afternoon doing the sorts of hidework she has to do. She doesn't have to spend her time in the nursery, there are other nannies to do that, but she likes being around the kids. She has a desk, shared with several other of the weyr's staff, near the back center of the room. It is there she sits right now, holding court. A couple of the headwoman's assistants and one of the newer nannies stand around her desk as they chatter and gossip. "So, I told her it probably wasn't a good idea. Not that I was against it, but really. Can you imagine? I sure can't."
Indeed, in a short enough time, icy blue eyes do make out the only vaguely familiar visage of Wistella, surrounded by others. As he approaches, and the nattering reaches his ears, there's the slightest hint of a wince. H'kon comes to stand, not quite at attention, before the desk, with the original intention of waiting patiently for the conversation to finish. As it drags on, first with sympathetic gasps, and then a seeming contest between the nanny and one of the headwoman's assistants for stories even more scandalous than the one just told, the rider grows impatient. And it's when one of these women is forced to take a breath that he clears his throat, and interjects rather roughly with, "Wistella?" said loud enough to make his interruption obvious - and hopefully keep this idle conversation before him from going on, and wasting more of his time.
Heads turn, lots of heads turn to regard the rider who address the head nanny. Ten eyes focus on him, taking him in before people begin to break off. Murmured farewells and giggles and whispers between the smaller groups that leave the desk. Wistella allows people to leave, of course. As if they awaited her permission. Only when everyone else is off to do their own things does she nod once to H'kon. "Yes?" One word, but she smiles as she asks, dimples coming out to say hello.
H'kon, for just a moment, seems confused by the smile, head drawing back so that his neck is pushed up against the collar of his riding jacket - which is still on, if opened, for the comparative warmth of the caverns to the bowl. "I..." And here a finger is held up, a request for a moment, and that rucksack is swung from his shoulder to be held before him at chest height. From here he produces a toy, a wooden dragon equipped with little wheels where its feet ought to be, so that it can be rolled along the floor. This is set on the desk. "This was..." eyebrows draw together to make him appear almost stern, "brought to me. A wheel had broken." He nods down to the toy, all four wheels of which are now well intact. And he'll wait for comments.
Wistella looks at the toy and breaks out into another smile. "Oh, how lovely. You fixed it. That's lovely." She reaches for the toy, pulling it along towards her by grabbing the string. "And isn't it cute. Is it from the nursery? Or was it something personal? I am not sure I remember seeing it, but we see plenty of toys so I might just not be remembering. "It was so kind of you to fix it." Lifting the toy she examines the wheels, spinning them one at a time with a finger.
"I am not certain where it is from," H'kon admits. "There was a... child," this is said with almost a hint of distaste, "watching me work on something different in the caverns, who brought it to me." The bag is still held in the same position, though he doesn't dig into it again just yet. A careful gaze follows her inspection of the wheels, a hint of concern managing its way over his features, anticipating a final judgment. "He did make it sound a common problem, however."
Wistella sets the toy down on the table, leaning back in her chair so she can fold hands over her ample stomach. "That is the nicest thing. And, it is. The children can be pretty rough with their toys. We keep them up as best we can, of course. But if we get a particularly rowdy group on a particularly long day. Well, the winters see quite a few toys damaged, sometimes beyond repair." Her head shakes at this, but she grins. What can you do about kids? "It was so kind of you do to this." Her tone is loud, over the turns she's lost a fair amount of hearing after all.
Praise to his character, rather than his work, is enough to have a blush appearing beneath the rider's beard. "Yes. Well. Toys are very simple." And now he pulls a couple others from the bag: a cart pulled by some non-descript beast with movable legs, and then a little wagon, both made all of wood. "These I had for other reasons, but will not be needing," H'kon notes quickly, "but they are also a good example." That bag, not empty, but apparently with no more pertinent contents, is slung back over his shoulder. "I work with more than wood. I very much doubt there would be a toy broken I could not repair, or, provided the materials, re-create."
The new toys are exclaimed over as they appear and Wistella must look at them as well. She studies them for some time. When they are set down she leans back once more. "Oh, these are excellent as well. You've quite a gift don't you. How delightful!" Another smile and if it veers into the sort given from adult to child it should be dismissed as a hazard of the trade. "We've a few of the parents who do some repair work, but these are quite of another calibre. You're willing to help out? That would be wonderful. We've always toys that need repairing." More dimples as she smiles again.
"I have practice," H'kon corrects, not willing to call it a 'gift' as such. Both hands hold the strap over his shoulder, fingers idly twitching against the edges of the thick material that makes it. "Dependent of course on schedule, I do have time where I sit idle. I would prefer to be of use. Toys would likely be the least of my concerns after things more important, you understand." After listing these conditions, if so they can be called, he licks at his lips. "But I would be willing to collect what is broken, yes, and see to repairing it."
"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to devote all your time to it at all." Wistella assures with a brilliant smile that shows off perfect teeth. "But it would be such a relief if we had someone else who would help us as well. I can gather up some of the more difficult toys and leave them for you in a box." This is offered and then she gives her head a shake. "Or would you prefer I sent them up to your weyr? Or. . .well, it is you who is offering this most gracious kindness and I will do the best I can to make it as easy as you wish it to be." Wistella takes up one of the toys again to examine it again. She enjoys toys as much as any of the children left in her care it would seem.
H'kon cannot keep from looking at least a little bemused for the woman's attitude toward him. "If you would collect them, I would prefer to come and get them as I will." The strap has been abandoned, and the brownrider shoves his hands into his pockets, next. "And I will see them returned in as short a time as possible, in working order." A firm nod to follow this up.
Wistella is a woman of mystery. Or maybe she doesn't remember the incident in the living cavern. Who knows. She's made a career dealing with children so selective memory is probably not a bad thing. The toy is set back down as she looks up at the rider before her again. "Then I shall arrange for a box to be left by the door to the nursery. You may come by and get it when you like. I will not worry about the time it takes for them to be returned. I realise you are quite busy with other things. To even offer to help is such a sweet thing."
H'kon shifts uncomfortably now, rolling his shoulder with the bag on it, in part to reposition the weight, and in part to fidget at being told how wonderful he is yet again. "Yes. Well... I am grateful for the extra work. And... I am certain that you also have work that you would like to do. So I will leave now." Before she calls him 'sweet' again. Another nod, and the rider's turning on his heel and heading for the exit; not quite running away, but close.
"Thank you again, sweetie!" Wistella surely does not know how embarrassed he is because that would be mean of her. So likely calls all sorts of people all sorts of pet names. She waves to his back and then reaches into her bottom drawer to pull out a small flask.
And what wasn't quite running turns into it at the word 'sweetie', a few much quicker steps finding H'kon out the door and heading back to the nicely more impersonal main caverns.
Where: Weyr staff office
When: 14:58 on day 20, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: H'kon was asked to fix a toy by a child. He returns said toy to the head nanny.
1/27/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 14:58 on day 20, month 2, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Following a late lunch, the smell of which can still be found on his breath if one were to stand too close, and a short bout of awkward questioning, H'kon has been directed to the office. With the mid-day meal long since over for the majority of the Weyr's population, the office that he enters, with a rucksack thrown over his shoulder, is relatively busy with the comings and goings of all those important people, and their assistants, and those who have to report to them. As such, the brownrider's movements are stiff as he makes his way in through the door, craning his neck in an attempt to spot the woman he seeks, without too much giving away that he's looking. And he certainly doesn't move for a better vantage point once inside, quite happy to stay along the wall until his course has been properly set in his mind.
It is naptime, more or less. The children are lying down so Wistella spends her time in the afternoon doing the sorts of hidework she has to do. She doesn't have to spend her time in the nursery, there are other nannies to do that, but she likes being around the kids. She has a desk, shared with several other of the weyr's staff, near the back center of the room. It is there she sits right now, holding court. A couple of the headwoman's assistants and one of the newer nannies stand around her desk as they chatter and gossip. "So, I told her it probably wasn't a good idea. Not that I was against it, but really. Can you imagine? I sure can't."
Indeed, in a short enough time, icy blue eyes do make out the only vaguely familiar visage of Wistella, surrounded by others. As he approaches, and the nattering reaches his ears, there's the slightest hint of a wince. H'kon comes to stand, not quite at attention, before the desk, with the original intention of waiting patiently for the conversation to finish. As it drags on, first with sympathetic gasps, and then a seeming contest between the nanny and one of the headwoman's assistants for stories even more scandalous than the one just told, the rider grows impatient. And it's when one of these women is forced to take a breath that he clears his throat, and interjects rather roughly with, "Wistella?" said loud enough to make his interruption obvious - and hopefully keep this idle conversation before him from going on, and wasting more of his time.
Heads turn, lots of heads turn to regard the rider who address the head nanny. Ten eyes focus on him, taking him in before people begin to break off. Murmured farewells and giggles and whispers between the smaller groups that leave the desk. Wistella allows people to leave, of course. As if they awaited her permission. Only when everyone else is off to do their own things does she nod once to H'kon. "Yes?" One word, but she smiles as she asks, dimples coming out to say hello.
H'kon, for just a moment, seems confused by the smile, head drawing back so that his neck is pushed up against the collar of his riding jacket - which is still on, if opened, for the comparative warmth of the caverns to the bowl. "I..." And here a finger is held up, a request for a moment, and that rucksack is swung from his shoulder to be held before him at chest height. From here he produces a toy, a wooden dragon equipped with little wheels where its feet ought to be, so that it can be rolled along the floor. This is set on the desk. "This was..." eyebrows draw together to make him appear almost stern, "brought to me. A wheel had broken." He nods down to the toy, all four wheels of which are now well intact. And he'll wait for comments.
Wistella looks at the toy and breaks out into another smile. "Oh, how lovely. You fixed it. That's lovely." She reaches for the toy, pulling it along towards her by grabbing the string. "And isn't it cute. Is it from the nursery? Or was it something personal? I am not sure I remember seeing it, but we see plenty of toys so I might just not be remembering. "It was so kind of you to fix it." Lifting the toy she examines the wheels, spinning them one at a time with a finger.
"I am not certain where it is from," H'kon admits. "There was a... child," this is said with almost a hint of distaste, "watching me work on something different in the caverns, who brought it to me." The bag is still held in the same position, though he doesn't dig into it again just yet. A careful gaze follows her inspection of the wheels, a hint of concern managing its way over his features, anticipating a final judgment. "He did make it sound a common problem, however."
Wistella sets the toy down on the table, leaning back in her chair so she can fold hands over her ample stomach. "That is the nicest thing. And, it is. The children can be pretty rough with their toys. We keep them up as best we can, of course. But if we get a particularly rowdy group on a particularly long day. Well, the winters see quite a few toys damaged, sometimes beyond repair." Her head shakes at this, but she grins. What can you do about kids? "It was so kind of you do to this." Her tone is loud, over the turns she's lost a fair amount of hearing after all.
Praise to his character, rather than his work, is enough to have a blush appearing beneath the rider's beard. "Yes. Well. Toys are very simple." And now he pulls a couple others from the bag: a cart pulled by some non-descript beast with movable legs, and then a little wagon, both made all of wood. "These I had for other reasons, but will not be needing," H'kon notes quickly, "but they are also a good example." That bag, not empty, but apparently with no more pertinent contents, is slung back over his shoulder. "I work with more than wood. I very much doubt there would be a toy broken I could not repair, or, provided the materials, re-create."
The new toys are exclaimed over as they appear and Wistella must look at them as well. She studies them for some time. When they are set down she leans back once more. "Oh, these are excellent as well. You've quite a gift don't you. How delightful!" Another smile and if it veers into the sort given from adult to child it should be dismissed as a hazard of the trade. "We've a few of the parents who do some repair work, but these are quite of another calibre. You're willing to help out? That would be wonderful. We've always toys that need repairing." More dimples as she smiles again.
"I have practice," H'kon corrects, not willing to call it a 'gift' as such. Both hands hold the strap over his shoulder, fingers idly twitching against the edges of the thick material that makes it. "Dependent of course on schedule, I do have time where I sit idle. I would prefer to be of use. Toys would likely be the least of my concerns after things more important, you understand." After listing these conditions, if so they can be called, he licks at his lips. "But I would be willing to collect what is broken, yes, and see to repairing it."
"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to devote all your time to it at all." Wistella assures with a brilliant smile that shows off perfect teeth. "But it would be such a relief if we had someone else who would help us as well. I can gather up some of the more difficult toys and leave them for you in a box." This is offered and then she gives her head a shake. "Or would you prefer I sent them up to your weyr? Or. . .well, it is you who is offering this most gracious kindness and I will do the best I can to make it as easy as you wish it to be." Wistella takes up one of the toys again to examine it again. She enjoys toys as much as any of the children left in her care it would seem.
H'kon cannot keep from looking at least a little bemused for the woman's attitude toward him. "If you would collect them, I would prefer to come and get them as I will." The strap has been abandoned, and the brownrider shoves his hands into his pockets, next. "And I will see them returned in as short a time as possible, in working order." A firm nod to follow this up.
Wistella is a woman of mystery. Or maybe she doesn't remember the incident in the living cavern. Who knows. She's made a career dealing with children so selective memory is probably not a bad thing. The toy is set back down as she looks up at the rider before her again. "Then I shall arrange for a box to be left by the door to the nursery. You may come by and get it when you like. I will not worry about the time it takes for them to be returned. I realise you are quite busy with other things. To even offer to help is such a sweet thing."
H'kon shifts uncomfortably now, rolling his shoulder with the bag on it, in part to reposition the weight, and in part to fidget at being told how wonderful he is yet again. "Yes. Well... I am grateful for the extra work. And... I am certain that you also have work that you would like to do. So I will leave now." Before she calls him 'sweet' again. Another nod, and the rider's turning on his heel and heading for the exit; not quite running away, but close.
"Thank you again, sweetie!" Wistella surely does not know how embarrassed he is because that would be mean of her. So likely calls all sorts of people all sorts of pet names. She waves to his back and then reaches into her bottom drawer to pull out a small flask.
And what wasn't quite running turns into it at the word 'sweetie', a few much quicker steps finding H'kon out the door and heading back to the nicely more impersonal main caverns.