Of Frozen thread, Igen visitors, clean bandages, and dusty scarves
Nolee, H'rel
Ista LC
Ista LC> H'rel casually wanders into the cavern, tucking his riding jacket under one arm as he makes his way to procure himself a bowl of some random variety of stew, or soup, whichever seems to have the proper amount of lumpiness to fit his current mood. Once this is decided, the man moves to a nearby table, seating himself and reaching for his spoon.
A scarf is wound around Nolee's left arm, and another around her right, and she's shaking them as she arrives in the cavern, sending puffs of dust into the air. The rider sneezes, then looks startled at the very idea, blinking wide-eyed around the cavern and taking stock of who's meal she might've disrupted with airborne particulants brought in from the bowl as it grows more dusty.
H'rel tilts his head curiously toward Nolee as she arrives, dust-stirring and all, a hand casually sliding atop his bowl of stew, protecting the steaming meal from having too high a dosage of Istan dust from being added to its nutritional value. "Good evening." the brownrider offers, with a polite nod.
Nolee squints at the man whose spoken, furrowed brows above a puzzled expression. Taking stock of the whole picture, the scars, the fellow's age, his late-evening foray into the realm of a meal, her face relaxes into an expression of recognition. "Evening, brownrider," she manages, not locating his name but getting at least one detail right. "How's the stew tonight? I heard there were some fish caught earlier, though I'm not sure if any made it to the kitchen." Oblivious of the dust cloud, she shakes a scarf again.
H'rel continues to hold his hand in place atop his bowl, tendrils of steam rising around the sides of his hand, "The stew is as it always is this time of turn, stew and nothing but." he glances down at the container, "Far better in the chill months, but I had a peculiar desire for it this evening. How fare yourself and your lifemate? Am I correct in recalling that you would be Nolee, and this would be your lifemate's first clutch coming soon?"
Nolee sniffs the air, scratching at her nose after her recent sneeze. "That's the way eating should be --have what you crave. Nalaieth's certainly not opposed to that school of thought." She tips her head, then takes a few steps closer to where H'rel sits at a table, curious. "I am Nolee. You're a Weyrlingboss, aren't you? I seem to remember you telling me what to do a lot." She smiles at him nonetheless, then nods. "Won't she be glad to have that part over with. She's all...lumpen."
Kicera
Kicera isn't much to look at. She's a short young woman with tanned skin and brown eyes. She is not thin; she has a healthy sort of figure that shows she enjoys her food. Her hair is dark brown and shoulder-length, parted in the middles to frame her face. Her hair curves in waves much like her body. Her clothes are a simple light tanned dress, tied at the neck, with plain wherhide boots. She is 21 Turns old.
H'rel
Standing just over six feet tall, the sight of H'rel is notable less for his height or musculature, than he is by the piercing gaze his bright blue eyes tend to show so clearly. Dark black hair, slightly curled hangs only partway down the back of his neck, trimmed properly for wearing beneath a riding helmet. His face is quite rounded, with a strong jawline almost hidden by the somewhat softer curves of his face. His build is solid, from nearly two decades of his life being spent in constant battle with thread, and the evidence of this can be seen most strikingly on his left forearm, where the deep scarring of threadscore has left a twisted mass of scarring from an injury turns ago.
His clothing is the most utilitarian affair, a pair of pale brown trousers and an equally pale green tunic are the base upon which nearly no adornments are placed. Other than a pair of oversized belt knives at his waist, sheathed in simple, unornamented wherhide. Aside from a fresh looking pair of heavy wherhide boots, the only other thing he wears is his shoulder knot marking him as an Assistant Weyrlingmaster at Ista Weyr with a deep brown thread woven in between Ista's colors.
H'rel appears to be 38 Turns, 5 months, and 28 days
Balinne
A young woman, Balinne's appearance has smoothed itself from child-like roundness into a sleeker, rather pleasing form. Not at tall woman by any stretch of the word, she stands around four foot nine inches, and retains the freckled skin of her youth. Her rusty red hair is still as wild and untammed as ever. Freckles cross her thin nose and cheeks and trail down across her neck, chest, and beneath clothing. Her brown eyes are rimmed with pale lashes, and pale, red eyebrows are almost invisible above them. She bares the subtle curves of a small woman, beautiful in their own right, and balance the once ungainly frame.Balinne is 20 Turns, 4 months, and 18 days old.
Ready for warm weather, Balinne's sleeveless linen top of grey-blue wraps around her loosely. It hangs slightly past her waist, falling over and covering the waist of her pants. A dark, charcoal grey in color, her pants fall a few inches below her knee, and are breeze and comfortable. Her hair is pulled onto either side of her head with a blue-grey ribbon the color of her shirt. She wears a pair of rope sandals on her feet.
She wears the knot of an Ista Weyr resident.
H'rel nods to Nolee as she approaches, saying with a wry smile on his face, "Indeed, though I was kept fairly busy with what I came to consider a 'pack' of bluepairs that needed closer watch." he chuckles quietly at Nolee's observation, "Indeed she is, and she'll soon be resting for quite some time on the warm sands of the hatching ground with her clutch. I'm sure they'll b e a fine lot of dragons when they grow, as well. And yes, it is good to satisfy ones cravings when they merely guide and do not -control- you.." he adds, in the same tone he'd likely use when instructing a new rider, though with more of a smile showing.
Kicera walks into the living cavern, looking at everyone and everything with close interest. She stops by the meal tables first to see what's being served, then makes a plate. She keeps an easy smile on her face as she does so, nodding to those who greet while she looks for a place to sit.
Nolee nods absently to the instruction, a pair of light scarves still draped over each arm as she gets closer to the seated H'rel and his bowl of stew. "Yes, yes, not to gorge, we learned that." The blonde casts a quick glance back to the bowl, then stage-whispers, "Nala doesn't realize that she'll be on the sands after the eggs come. I haven't told her that she probably won't want to leave." Brightly, she adds, "Besides, you have to have a job, right? So there have to be more dragons." Kicera is watched, and Nolee smiles, as though inviting the girl to H'rel's table.
Balinne trudges from the Lower Caverns, her slow pace and awkward movement caused by the rather large basket she's attempting to carry between her arms. Not being a large woman to begin with, it's clear Balinne's been struggling, and sweat clings to her forehead. Persistent to the end, she makes her way further into the cavern before finally giving up, and dropping the basket onto the floor as she collapses into chair. "Hmph. Apprentice work," she grumps, staring at her wicker basket with contempt. "And I'm -not- an apprentice."
H'rel chuckles quietly, finally determining that the dust cloud Nolee brought in with her is sufficiently settled enough to allow his hand to slip away from the top of his stew bowl, a puff of steam rising one last time before fading away. "She will find herself adjusting quite easily, I'm certain. Dragons were meant to fly, indeed, but queens were meant to clutch." he turns his head and nods in greeting to Kicera, seeming to second Nolee's invitation to sit, then Balinne and her large basket. "Quite the burden you have there."
Kicera catches both silent invitations and smiles at Nolee and H'rel. She walks up to them, nodding, "Hi. I, uh..was wondering I could join you two?" She sends a smile to Balinne, nodding in greeting to her as well.
Nolee is distracted by watching the steam rise from the brownrider's stew long enough to be petulant. "I suppose they were," she agrees. "She's very maternal, so maybe she'll pester me less." Then she returns her gaze to Kicera. "Join us?" A moment of startled surprise, then a nod. "Why sure! This man, he's very friendly, if you haven't been a naughty blueriding pair," comes in a teasing tone before a squint at Balinne. "Are you helping with the laundry? These scarves need a washing, if the dust is getting worse."
Balinne huffs her answer towards H'rel. She wipes a hand across her brow, leaving a dusty streak in it's wake. A moment later, and she favors both the familiar brownrider, and his goldrider companion, with a more cheerful smile. "Yea, but I suppose it's part of the job." Seems her earlier comments are already forgotten. "Bandages. Yards and yards of them meant to be wrapped." Her explanation is needless, as anyone peering into the basket could easily see the heap of white strips of fabric, pristine after their wash. She grins towards Nolee before turning her gaze upon H'rel. "Naughty bluerider pair, hm? Who's getting into trouble now?" She pulls a long bandage from the basket and holds it up for Nolee's gaze, as if to reaffirm her original comment: Bandages. Kicera gets a brief nod of her head before Balinne's bent at her task of rolling.
"Or a greenpair, or brownpair, or bronzepair..." the older rider adds to Nolee's remark, before nodding once again to Kicera, "Please, sit where you like." he waves his hand to indicate the large number of empty seats at the table he and Nolee are near before turning to Balinne, "Bandages, hm? One of those things I never thought I'd be glad to see so -few- of, right along with Thread." he murmurs, "And nobody is -currently- in trouble. I was just explaining to Nolee what kept me occupied in the education of her group of Weyrlings. A particularly rambunctious young crowd."
Kicera nods to them both and sits, grinning and saying, "I'm Kicera from Igen. Well met." to those closest enough to hear. She digs into her plate, eating much like someone who hasn't eaten all day.
Nolee is intrigued by the dusty streak's appearance on Balinne's head, and she watches it, fascinated, until it is usurped by a bandage. "Now? Hmm. M'yr, maybe? He's usually a safe bet for trouble." Realizing the light scarves will not be taken off her hands so easily, Nolee folds them up, and deposits them on the H'rel's table in a puff of dust. "At least you weren't bored?" is to him, sweetly, as she's stealing a nosy glance toward Kicera's plate, the latter's words bringing an immediate clumsy curtsy and a rush of proper greetings, ending with, "I'm Nolee. From here. Enjoy our hospitality!"
Balinne casts Kicera another look as one bandage is finished, and another is begun. "Igen uh? Long way from home then." She grins, a friendly gesture, and nods towards the brown-eyed foreigner, and asks, "What brings you to Ista? Can't be our gloriously dry weather." Rapidly finishing her second bandage, she sets both upon the table - well away from Nolee's dust puffs - and considers H'rel. "Getting ready for the newest batch? Should be interesting to watch Nalaieth's first clutch grow up!"
H'rel looks to Kicera and nods with a muted smile, "I believe we've already met?" he remarks as he belatedly tries to shield his late meal from the blowing dust, hand intercepting a wafting cloud of the stuff only to have it curl around the edges of his fingers in a perfectly inconvenient example of aerodynamics, and waft across his stew. "I would admit M'yr was less a challenge for me than I expected, I was usually dealing with other pairs. I had been warned, however.." he looks over to Balinne, "They will be much like the last batches, I am certain. And in that, I mean they will grow to be strong, Istan dragons."
Kicera has managed to finish her plate in record time, and she downs her drink. To Nolee, she nods, "Well met, Nolee. That's a real pretty name." She smiles at Balinne as she gets up, "Yes, I am far, and the heat's so much worse there! I've fallen quite in love with Ista." She nods to H'rel, "I do believe we did meet...the Sandbar I think. Hm, can't think...." and she sighs and shrugs, saying to them all, "Sorry to eat and run, but I got some errands to do. Perhaps we'll talk again." She nods, turns, and leave.
Nolee makes a sour face as Balinne brings up the dry weather. "Ugh. Too dry for me. Making my skin all dusty." She pats the scarves on the table, then belatedly stills her hand as she realizes her actions are having an impact on H'rel's meal. "And it makes more work. Rain is better." The hand near the scarves withdraws, moving to innocently scratch her neck instead. Their visitor is given a cheery wave, though more is stalled by her exit. Considering, Nolee shrugs, adding, "Nala doesn't seem worried, that's true. Something about instinct, I suppose. What're all the bandages for, if fewer people are getting hurt?"
Balinne gives the parting Kicera a hearty (and completely incorrect) salute. "Bye then!" she calls. She hmms as her third bandage is rolled and neatly tucked next to the others. "I don't mind the heat, it's all the dust that bothers me! The break from rain is nice, however... just wish it would dampen a bit to keep all the dust down. Or the wind stop... of course, that would just be worse." She's rambling now, and stops, smiling instead. "I think I'll have to sneak out of the infirmary and watch you work, H'rel," she teases. "Could be fun to watch you put those little ones in line!"
"More fun for you than for them, I'm certain." H'rel says to Balinne with a quiet chuckle, taking his spoon to the stew and raising it to his mouth, either unaware or having given up caring about the dust that will soon be enhancing his dietary needs. "The joys of Ista," he says toward Nolee, "Dust, rain, ash, or sweltering heat combined with any of the first three. Our seasons are true wonders of Pern. Though Noteniath is quite pleased he was not hatched at the Reaches, after having spent some time there once."
Nolee laughs aloud at the overzealous salute, sneaking a glance at H'rel to see if he'll remediate the infirmary aid's timing or her technique. As she discourses upon the more miserable points of the weather, Nolee nods agreement, all while she sidles sideways until she's able to procure a cup of water, and even that is tainted by a light layer of dust on top. A frown, and she drinks regardless. "Ooh, I went there. It was cold cold cold. Did you get to see the snow?"
Balinne hmms a bit, allowing her current rolling project to lie in her lap. "It's too late to relocate to Telgar, isn't it?" she asks halfheartedly. "At least it's predictable there. And at Reaches, too. Pretty much plan on snow." Balinne hums slightly as she resumes her rolling. "I didn't get to see the Hatching, unfortunatly. I couldn't get away at the time - a kitchen girl decided that moment was just _the_ perfect time to go into a long and difficult labor."
H'rel takes a few more spoonfuls of thick, dusted stew, "Indeed." the man says to Nolee, "The Reaches had a wing short of riders after a particularly windy Fall that caused more bumps and scratches than they were ready for, and some of us volunteered to help fill out a wing for them. They had expected a calmer time, but the leading edge of Fall led us directly into a blizzard. Fortunately, we were able to depart as the blizzard did the work for us, but not before enduring a few highly unpleasant moments at the mercy of northern wind." he looks back to Balinne, "Snow can be pleasant so long as your wings are enjoying it from the ground, I'm certain." he grins.
As though just realizing it, Nolee's mouth reflects her thoughts, turning into a little vacant 'o'. "Their hatching! That was the place, where Vildaeth's rider's from. I saw that. Eggs opened, there were dragons, no one died, then we ate." The important things, summed up by Nolee. "Relocate? Why would you want to do that? Telgar's, um," a brow-furrow, her tongue getting too far ahead, the next tentative, uncertain, "cold, isn't it?" A shudder. "You -flew- in that?" Awe fills her wide eyes.
Balinne offers a reluctant shrug as she tosses another successful roll onto the table, "Just a thought," she adds with a grin. She, too, listens intently to H'rel, and shivers at his story. "I can't get over Thread. I don't remember any of it, but I hear the stories from older riders all the time." Her freckled nose wrinkles, and she shakes her head at Nolee. "Detailed, Nolee, very detailed," she teases.
H'rel chuckles quietly at Nolee's recollection of the Reaches hatching, "I believe you've summarized the best sort of hatching one in which those..." he motions a finger toward Balinne's bandages, "Are unneccessary." he smiles, leaning back in his seat a bit before nodding once more to Nolee. "Indeed, it was a few minutes before we confirmed that thread was breaking apart or drowning midair, thanks to the cold and snow. Once we did, home we came. And it took a little more grumbling before we volunteered to help at the Reaches again, but we did as we must."
"You don't remember?" Nolee's eyes are as wide as saucers, and she blinks in an approximation of slow-motion to uphold her astonishment, any talk of hatchings forgotten for the moment. "I remember. It was scary and it came from the sky." Then a confession, "Though, I was always inside when it came, with things bolted up tight, so I never saw any up close." Leaning closer, like a youngster at a campfire over a frightening tale, she badgers for more, "Did it turn to icicles and die? Or vanish like the morning mist over the sea?"
Balinne shrugs her shoulders at Nolee, apparently unconcerned. "I remember the chaos before a Threadfall, and the general chaos afterwards, but it all kind of meshes together in my head. I was rather young, and didn't really understand it all." About to pluck another bandage from the basket, her hand is stopped as a young blonde comes skidding into the living caverns. "Balinne! They need you. Someone did something stupid or something, and the Healers don't want to deal with it." So it's defaulted to Balinne. Huffing, she pulls herself up. "I'll be back for that," motioning towards the basket. And then she's off, following the over zealous young blonde.
H'rel motions a hand toward Nolee's scarves, wriggling his fingers to draw attention to the dust-coated fabric, "When thread chills, it becomes 'crackdust'. It seems to dissolve itself as it falls. When you mix snow and wind to that, it breaks apart in an almost wholly undescribable manner. Sufficient to say, it dies in a pleasantly -dead- fashion." He seems not to need any badgering at all, continuing his story and explanation with ease. As Balinne prepares to depart the brownrider waves a hand, "Take care."
Nolee winces as the other woman is called away, giving her a wave as she departs for the call of duty. "Don't forget the bandages! Hope you don't need 'em!" H'rel's finger-movement recalls the scarves on the table, and after a suitable ohh of impressed horror, the girl gathers them up, watching the particles fly about with even more interest before she finishes up the rest of her dusty beverage with a grit of her teeth (and grit in her teeth?). "That's a great story! You should tell it to Nalaieth's weyrlings someday." With a tip of her head, she's sighing. "Off for laundry, if no one else will do it for me." Poor thing.
H'rel chuckles quietly as Nolee herself moves to depart, nodding to her with a smile, "I'm sure such stories will fill young ears on occasion until the day I die. Take care, queenrider." he nods to her, raising his near-empty stew bowl in a friendly gesture, as though he were raising a mug of ale, before setting it back down.