In which Nolee, Balinne, and Fayre shuck oysters and dish gossip
Who: Nolee, Balinne, Fayre
Where: Ista LC
When: It is an autumn evening, day 28, month 12, turn 17 of Interval 10.
Nolee, Balinne
Ista LC
The spacious living cavern is almost always filled with residents and visitors to the Weyr. No matter whether someone is just arriving for a meal or leaving just after having one, the hustle and bustle within the cavern is nearly constant. Tables of all sizes with accompanying chairs are spread out to fill out the enormous space. To one side of the cavern lies a lengthy buffet area where the food is available at all times.
A wide passage to the north leads out to the bowl while another to the southeast leads down toward the lower caverns. Double-hinged doors stands at the entrance of the kitchen and every time the doors open and close from the kitchen, the smell of food being made wafts into the living cavern.
It is an autumn night, 20:58 of day 28, month 12, turn 17 of Interval 10.
The wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. Tonight, the clear sky is alight with stars and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
Autumn brings high humidity to the weyr, and relief can hardly be found indoors, especially when the air's stillness offers little in the way of breeze. Resolutely, Nolee has staked out a spot in the busy cavern near the doors from the kitchen, where every open and close brings some air and a wave of heat from the hearths. She's at a table heaped high with bivalved mollusks, and a prying device is in one hand. "Take a break, then, Borneith's. I'll stay at it for a bit," sends her companion scurrying off, relieved. So far, she hasn't managed to cut anyone or anything, though Nolee's eating in a quick slurp just about as many of the oysters as she shucks into a prepared bin. Nearby, others are doing the same thing, though there are many available tables serving their usual purpose or providing social gathering points.
And in walks Balinne, around the tables, through the crowd and... what is this? She pauses, eyeing that table of oysters and those at work with them. And Nolee. Surprised and a bit amused, Balinne makes her way over. "What's going on?" she wonders to the Weyrwoman, nodding her head towards the knife and bin. She does, however, make sure to stay well out of range of that blade. Just in case.
Nolee is midway to her mouth with anther large, tasty mollusk, prying it deftly from the shell and slupring it loudly before it's swallowed down in a quick and satisfied gulp. "Well, hallo, Zelieth's!" cheerfully greets the Weyrwoman, for once in a delightful and jolly good mood. "We're eating - er, I mean, shucking, these things." She pries open another shell, remarkably well considering her frequent clumsiness, and offers it to Balinne. "We've a fantastic crop taken up this afternoon on the Island Tide, and the captain offered a discount if we help prep some for his daughter's wedding. Want it?"
Nolee nods. "They do. They're wonderful. And I'll pay for the ones I eat!" This comes in an almost girlish defensive mode, not cranky at all, but caught. "They're planning to smoke them for the feast, but I like them better fresh." As Balinne declines, Nolee slurps up the bivalve and moves on to shelling the next, casting the course exterior into one bin and the meaty bit into another. "You live in a funny place to dislike seafood," she observes. "But all the more for me!" The Weyrwoman dries her hands a moment, and offers the oyster knife left behind by the dismissed Borneith's rider. "Here you go. Careful, you gotta put it in the end end, under the lip? Or it'll slip and try to cut. Unless you've done this before. Then you already know."
Balinne grins, and one hand comes up to hide a bit of a giggle. "I see. Helping. Making sure they taste alright?" she wonders. As for the offer, she lifts her hand in a polite decline. "No, thanks. I'm... really not that fond of seafood." The horror! She does, however, pull up a chair. "But if there's another knife around, I wouldn't mind helping a bit. Free time. A little manual labor would be great after a morning of hides and mental work."
Reaching for the knife, Balinne bobs her head. "Oh, I know," she agrees. "I've been told more than once that I must be insane for disliking seafood. I'm Istan born, too," and she grins at Nolee. The knife is given a glance, and then the nearest oyster, and she picks it up with a familiar sort of motion. "Used to," she confesses. "Been a long time, though. Not since I was a candidate. Almost miss it, though. Sometimes, it's nice to do an easy, repetitive task rather than mental brainwork."
Nolee nods agreement with whichever sources have commented on Balinne's sad lack of love for sea cuisine. "Istan born," the blonde repeats with a sad shake of her head. "Jays, isn't that true," agrees the Weyrwoman. "There's a sort of pride in it, like the sense that I can be good at shucking these, even if I make a rough mess of hidework or Holders or things that require more complicated thinking." Rapid at tasks that require manual dexterity despite her slovenly use of hands and feet otherwise, Nolee makes short work of another half dozen as she speaks. "Anything new in the hides, or the sweeps?" Almost afraid to ask.
Balinne just grins, and doesn't look the least bit ashamed of her lack of the seafood love. She's a bit wobbly to start, but is soon cracking those oysters like a pro and tossing them into their respective bins. And wouldn't you know it? Not /one/ of them goes into her mouth. "It's kinda nice, to be able to do something well, yeah," she agrees. "Oh, nope. Nothing new, which is great. Makes for boring reading but... I'd rather be bored than up to my eyeballs in a crisis."
Nolee deftly parts the shells, continuing to fill the bins of meat and shells and occasionally the extra bin that is her stomach. "I would, too. If it's dull, there's more time for sleep." A half-shrug, the blonde's good humor unbroken by the task at hand. A few folks even start singing a little as they work, the benefits of a good harvest spreading, and the ship captain's daughter's groom-to-be joining in the song as he works.
Fayre bustles into the living caverns, her nose a-sniffing. Who knows how far the delicious smells of seafood can waft, but now that the weyrwoman is here, she's definitely caught onto the scent. Her sense of smell brings her closer to Balinne and Nolee's table, and her sense of sight encourages her to steer their way--familiar faces! "How! How did I not know they were gonna have such wonderful food today! Ista has such fantastic fresh seafood, eh?" She eyes Balinne as the greenrider shucks, apparently semi-suspicious of the fact that she's not actually eating any.
Giggling a little, Balinne tosses another meaty bit into a bin. Toss! Score. "Sleeping? I wish! Hides, drills, sweeps, lectures, running laps with the Wing... There's no time for sleep at all, Nolee! You just lucked out. All you have to do is run the Weyr," and there's definite humor in her voice, and she laughs. "Ooh, singing!" But she spares the group from her own terrible voice. "Oh dear," and now she's glancing at the bowl, and sighing. "Looks like I spoke too soon. Sorry Nolee," and she stands, offering her just-opened oyster to the goldrider. "Apparently, there is a small crisis now."
"They have," concurs Nolee grandly as Fayre makes her way in. "We were just lucky this captain saw fight to share with us as we prepare for his daughter's wedding feast. Though I suspect," she muses, "If it'd be another few days, it these might've gone for Nalaieth's and Vildaeth's hatching feast. Or maybe you have a sense for good eating days. That'd be handy." All that is chattered before Balinne's words register, and Nolee pauses in oyster-prying. "A small one? Jays, I hope it's only a small one. At least with running the weyr, all the small crisis-thingys are your problems." A cheery wink as she dishes it right back, joining in the humming and offering a short knifey wave to wish the Wingleader good luck with it.
"Just a small one," Balinne assures Nolee with a grin. She glances at Fayre and offers her knife. "Here," she says with another grin. "You can eat my share, then. You weird seafood people!" And then another little wince. "Ack, I'm coming," she says for the voice in her head. "Bye," and off she goes, darting through the crowd as only one of her height can.
As Balinne leaves her seat, Fayre slips right in before any other oyster-lover can. Her face falls a little as she does so, though, and the rider offers an unhappy goodbye to Balinne, "Aww, shucks. I have bad timing, don't I? But hah! Shucks! Get it?" Her chestnut eyes twinkle a bit with mirth as she gestures towards all the oyster-shucking going on, trying to make her pun clear. She gratefully accepts the knife and bobs her head, causing a few hairs to fly out of her tight braid. "Good luck, Bali, with whatever it is!" It's not long before she's enthusiastically prying open the oysters with her secondhand knife, her expertise from spending many Turns working in the kitchens fairly obvious.
"Weird?" Nolee echoes, interrupting the song a moment to repeat. "Hmph." Balinne's exit allows Nalaieth's to dip her head in welcome to Lieryth's, giving her junior a wide smile. "That was good timing, actually, since it meant you got a seat." The pun brings a laugh, but only after a long pause where Nolee has to puzzle out why the 'hah' and the 'get it?' "Ooh, because we're shucking these, and it's - I see." The rhythm of the action returns, Nolee interrupting hers to slurp here and there. "Jays, yours has got to be pretty egg-heavy by now. Does she get off her feed, before the flight or the eggs come? Nala sure does. Can read it like a message, now, but not at first."
Fayre's chuckling gets louder at Nolee's delayed reaction, but it dies out as their conversation shifts from cheesy puns to more important and interesting things. "Aye, yes. I'm being real strict with her about overflying and that sorta thing now. We're both real excited. Plus, she's a huge fan of Ista anyway, so she's not too miffed about not being able to travel for a good long while." After a quick look around, she sneakily tosses a particularly succulent piece of oyster upwards with her knife and catches it with her eager mouth. "Mmm. This is gonna be some feast, if that piece o' meat was any indication."
"Oh, that's good. About overflying. Especially if she's prone to it, or just wants some adventure before she's stuck. Or I guess she doesn't have to be, most just pick it over letting their eggs be unguarded." Shuck, shuck go the oysters. "Untrusting things, aren't they?" Nolee nods approval at Lieryth being a fan of Ista, as though Fayre had some say in the opinions of her gold. "How'd you get good at catching it like that?" Nolee has to try: the meat and goo around it are flung upward, where they stick to her hair, prompting her to peel it free with a grimace. "Guess I need more practice."
Fayre puts her knife and current oyster down for a moment; the better to focus on Nolee's attempt to catch a piece of meat in her mouth, you see. The rider does her best to cover a giggle by demonstrating her little trick again. Flick and catch, all with no goo in her hair. "Oh, just Turns of practice doin' silly stuff like that. I used to be a kitchen assistant, y'see. And...well, I'd get hungry! Cookin' all that delicious food. But I had to be careful about sneakin' a bite so I wouldn't get scolded, so I learned to be quick." Then it's back to the subject of Lieryth. "Yeah, she's tryin' to get lotsa exercise in before she's stuck on the sands. Not that she minds the idea, really, it's just she feels awful if she doesn't get a day of hard work in. Sittin' around on the sands will be real new to her."
Nolee watches, a little distracted by oyster slime in her hair, but not too much. "You did? Oh, if I'd been that any time I should've tried to learn it, too. Good way to catch a snack." A pause. "Get it? Catch a snack?" Nolee bursts into laughter so loud the song is momentarily interrupted to gawp at her before it resumes with a rather bawdy verse that leaves the bridegroom-to-be flushed and grinning. "Nala's almost the opposite. She's no more fond of work than I am." A musing thought. "No, she is more fond than I am. Just about different things. It's funny the smallest gold I've ever seen is so industr--industus-that. And that she has her middle so rounded, too." Small giggle of her own, before she tries another oyster, this one sticking on a seaman's bald pate. "Oops," she softly murmurs, shrugging at the surprised man.
Fayre begins to bob her head along to the song, though she doesn't actually break out into singing--she couldn't be so chatty if she did, after all. She begins to shuck more or less to the rhythm of the song, which means Nolee's semi-sudden burst of laughing jolts her along with the singers. "Oh! Ah, yes. Good one, Noles." Fayre smiles and nods encouragingly, as if she was talking to a young weyrbrat. "Aye, she is a bit small, ain't she? But real muscular too. And pretty dark coloured. She could be mistaken for a bronze, I think, if ya just glanced at her. Y'know?" Her eyes follow that flying piece of oyster and she winces when it makes contact with a poor man's bald spot. "Oy! Maybe y'should practice when it's emptier in here. Becomin' something of a hazard, eh?"
"Thanks!" Nolee is clearly still pleased by her jest, and it's a hindrance to her progress with the molllusk pile. "She is. Good that she's dark, and so much less pale than some of them, indeed a good sign. Pale ones look so sickly to me. Like that new-hatched bronze over at the Reaches - portents aren't so good for the pale ones." A shrug: their problem, not hers. "Hope she'll have a big clutch; we could sure use it after Nala..." The rest left unsaid, about Nala and Vil's small numbers in clutch sizes. The bald fellow peels the oyster and flings it back, where it lands on the table with a squelch, and Nolee laughs, pleased for the distraction. "True! Like on the beach, perhaps."
Fayre chews on her bottom lip when the recently hatched pale bronze is mentioned and she busies herself with scooping all her empty shells up and dumping them in the appropriate bucket. "Oh, well. I quite liked the clutch, but maybe I'm biased, 'cause it was part Malsaeth's an' all." Her chewing increases in intensity and she begins to shuck those oysters faster to distract herself. "Oh, well. I mean, it is her first clutch. Mikhuth's too. So I'm tryin' not to think pressurin' thoughts, y'know? And it is an interval, after all."
Nolee watches the bottom-lip chewing with some fascination. She's about to ask if Fayre's hungry, gesturing to a recently-opened shell in her hand, when the goldrider speaks. "True! I'd almost forgot they had an Istan sire, and your own clutchsib at that. Jays, I shouldn't mention that the bronze was all pale, at least not if he's about. Wouldn't due to have people say Ista's sires make weak dragons." For Ista's own impending clutching, Nolee smiles. "I'm sure they'll do well. Strong sires, and she had a good high flight. Not like - well, you know." Loath to say Nalaieth's name out loud and draw her attention unduly, the rider instead just gulps another oyster. "Your's'll be fine, I'm sure. Jays, even mine made it without any trouble."
Fayre smiles crookedly as Nolee belatedly remembers the Istan connection. "Woulda thought you'd remember, considerin' all the trouble it caused with...ah, y'know. The tension and things." She coughs uncomfortably and stares determinedly at the pile of oysters she's shucking. She brightens some as her attention shifts back to Lieryth's impending clutch and she smiles, shrugging her right shoulder at the same time. "Eh, that's true. She did go real high. Her muscles helped, I think. It was interestin', seeing her flight style for the first time. Looked to be strong with no fancy tricks."
"Right, those red-painted ones. And that inhospitable place." Looks like she's added a vocabulary word and is overeager to use it on someone or some thing. "Musclar, is yours? Being smaller's an advantage there especially. That's one of Nala's weaknesses," Nolee easily confesses, "That she's so large, and trying to outwit them with swirls and flying low when she should've done like yours, high and far and made them work for it." Then a light flush and a blissful, secretive smile. "Though I'm glad she wound up caught by Vildaeth's, this time especially. How's the sire of yours? Seem a decent fellow?"
"Aye, right. Cold place, cold attitudes." Fayre names no particulars, but it's quite clear where and who she is referring to. She shudders, as if the Reaches famous snow really was barreling down on her, and sets her knife down for now. "Yup. She's curvy, as ya know. And that stuff makin' up the curves is good ol' muscle. She's not happy with her day if she hasn't exercised, y'see." Fayre suddenly smiles and admits, "Yeah, I am quite happy with the way she flew. I'm sure I'll be real proud of her eggs and hatchlings." Her smile widens at the mention of C'len and she beams at the Weyrwoman. "He sired Nala's first, didn't he? I hear you two remained something of a pair."
"Cold just about covers it," the Weyrwoman replies, darkly, her knife snicking against the shell of the next bivalve with a scraped enthusiasm. "Except for C'len. He's of there. Well, of Southern Boll, really, but his Vildaeth's hatched out of there." A nod for Lieryth's need to exercise, and a laugh. "Nala'd just be a butterball if she could, and never move a muscle unless she was made to it. Good thing she has to lead the wing or she'd barely be airborne when she got glowy." Worried face, then a pleased, "Good. Wouldn't want to hear else. Won't hear that we don't treat the sires well, or paint his feed either. Heard that Weyrwoman at Fort sanctions gambling and drinking caverns right inside the weyr; hope he's not prone to it, but can't control them." Her nattering pauses as she smiles again, genuine. "We did. He's heaps of nice."
Fayre blushes just a tad when she's reminded of C'len's home Weyr. "Oh, well, of course! He's just super. And now he's ours! Very fittin'." She nods, very enthused, when the further fact that he's originally from Southern Boll is revealed. "Ah, and he was ours, in a way, to begin with. Very nice." She coughs a bit as Nolee puts down gambling and drinking and the rider nonchalantly slides out of her chair. "Oh, well, ah. No, he doesn't seem like a gambler. He does seem real nice. Haven't had a chance to really chat with him except right after the flight, and you know how those conversations usually go." She pointedly says nothing about her own gambling habits. Her eyes go a bit unfocused for a moment before she continues, "Mmm. Speaking of my egg heavy dragon. She wants to go visit Malsaeth's children. I better go firmly talk her outta it."
"He is! And I'm very happy to have him." As her tone might suggest, she's also a little smug about it. "Good thing he had practice there at being a Wingleader, though. Well -" Nolee considers, then shakes her head. "Not exactly ours. Fort's, kinda. Closer there, I think. But I'm bad at geograpy, so maybe you're right." A nod for Fayre's comment for after the flight conversations, the older woman pleased the younger one has settled into the way of such things so well already. "Ooh. Ohh! Right. That you should. I'll finish up this little stack and then be off for a bath, myself. Thanks for the help, F -- F --" a pause, Nolee trying to get the name right, but she fails to recall it, instead falling back on, "Lieryth's." Still, progress!
Fayre smiles a little knowingly, a little sadly as Nolee sounds out the first letter of her name. "Fayre, dear." She supplies, a sudden motherly tone invading her voice. "Have fun with the rowdy crowd n'fresh food!" She gestures towards the cheery singers with a laugh before weaving her way through the loud bunch towards the bowl.
"Fayre, dear," Nolee repeats, in that same motherly tone, so quick the reaction is deeply ingrained from days of weyrlinghood. "See you at drills - oh no, we won't, since Nala's still on the sands, and yours is so close. Jays. The wing in their hands, all alone." Worry for a moment subsides to a cheery wave to Fayre then a vigorous attack on the oyster stack. "G'night, Fayredeer."
Where: Ista LC
When: It is an autumn evening, day 28, month 12, turn 17 of Interval 10.
Nolee, Balinne
Ista LC
The spacious living cavern is almost always filled with residents and visitors to the Weyr. No matter whether someone is just arriving for a meal or leaving just after having one, the hustle and bustle within the cavern is nearly constant. Tables of all sizes with accompanying chairs are spread out to fill out the enormous space. To one side of the cavern lies a lengthy buffet area where the food is available at all times.
A wide passage to the north leads out to the bowl while another to the southeast leads down toward the lower caverns. Double-hinged doors stands at the entrance of the kitchen and every time the doors open and close from the kitchen, the smell of food being made wafts into the living cavern.
It is an autumn night, 20:58 of day 28, month 12, turn 17 of Interval 10.
The wet autumn season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. Tonight, the clear sky is alight with stars and the air hardly moves more than a whisper.
Autumn brings high humidity to the weyr, and relief can hardly be found indoors, especially when the air's stillness offers little in the way of breeze. Resolutely, Nolee has staked out a spot in the busy cavern near the doors from the kitchen, where every open and close brings some air and a wave of heat from the hearths. She's at a table heaped high with bivalved mollusks, and a prying device is in one hand. "Take a break, then, Borneith's. I'll stay at it for a bit," sends her companion scurrying off, relieved. So far, she hasn't managed to cut anyone or anything, though Nolee's eating in a quick slurp just about as many of the oysters as she shucks into a prepared bin. Nearby, others are doing the same thing, though there are many available tables serving their usual purpose or providing social gathering points.
And in walks Balinne, around the tables, through the crowd and... what is this? She pauses, eyeing that table of oysters and those at work with them. And Nolee. Surprised and a bit amused, Balinne makes her way over. "What's going on?" she wonders to the Weyrwoman, nodding her head towards the knife and bin. She does, however, make sure to stay well out of range of that blade. Just in case.
Nolee is midway to her mouth with anther large, tasty mollusk, prying it deftly from the shell and slupring it loudly before it's swallowed down in a quick and satisfied gulp. "Well, hallo, Zelieth's!" cheerfully greets the Weyrwoman, for once in a delightful and jolly good mood. "We're eating - er, I mean, shucking, these things." She pries open another shell, remarkably well considering her frequent clumsiness, and offers it to Balinne. "We've a fantastic crop taken up this afternoon on the Island Tide, and the captain offered a discount if we help prep some for his daughter's wedding. Want it?"
Nolee nods. "They do. They're wonderful. And I'll pay for the ones I eat!" This comes in an almost girlish defensive mode, not cranky at all, but caught. "They're planning to smoke them for the feast, but I like them better fresh." As Balinne declines, Nolee slurps up the bivalve and moves on to shelling the next, casting the course exterior into one bin and the meaty bit into another. "You live in a funny place to dislike seafood," she observes. "But all the more for me!" The Weyrwoman dries her hands a moment, and offers the oyster knife left behind by the dismissed Borneith's rider. "Here you go. Careful, you gotta put it in the end end, under the lip? Or it'll slip and try to cut. Unless you've done this before. Then you already know."
Balinne grins, and one hand comes up to hide a bit of a giggle. "I see. Helping. Making sure they taste alright?" she wonders. As for the offer, she lifts her hand in a polite decline. "No, thanks. I'm... really not that fond of seafood." The horror! She does, however, pull up a chair. "But if there's another knife around, I wouldn't mind helping a bit. Free time. A little manual labor would be great after a morning of hides and mental work."
Reaching for the knife, Balinne bobs her head. "Oh, I know," she agrees. "I've been told more than once that I must be insane for disliking seafood. I'm Istan born, too," and she grins at Nolee. The knife is given a glance, and then the nearest oyster, and she picks it up with a familiar sort of motion. "Used to," she confesses. "Been a long time, though. Not since I was a candidate. Almost miss it, though. Sometimes, it's nice to do an easy, repetitive task rather than mental brainwork."
Nolee nods agreement with whichever sources have commented on Balinne's sad lack of love for sea cuisine. "Istan born," the blonde repeats with a sad shake of her head. "Jays, isn't that true," agrees the Weyrwoman. "There's a sort of pride in it, like the sense that I can be good at shucking these, even if I make a rough mess of hidework or Holders or things that require more complicated thinking." Rapid at tasks that require manual dexterity despite her slovenly use of hands and feet otherwise, Nolee makes short work of another half dozen as she speaks. "Anything new in the hides, or the sweeps?" Almost afraid to ask.
Balinne just grins, and doesn't look the least bit ashamed of her lack of the seafood love. She's a bit wobbly to start, but is soon cracking those oysters like a pro and tossing them into their respective bins. And wouldn't you know it? Not /one/ of them goes into her mouth. "It's kinda nice, to be able to do something well, yeah," she agrees. "Oh, nope. Nothing new, which is great. Makes for boring reading but... I'd rather be bored than up to my eyeballs in a crisis."
Nolee deftly parts the shells, continuing to fill the bins of meat and shells and occasionally the extra bin that is her stomach. "I would, too. If it's dull, there's more time for sleep." A half-shrug, the blonde's good humor unbroken by the task at hand. A few folks even start singing a little as they work, the benefits of a good harvest spreading, and the ship captain's daughter's groom-to-be joining in the song as he works.
Fayre bustles into the living caverns, her nose a-sniffing. Who knows how far the delicious smells of seafood can waft, but now that the weyrwoman is here, she's definitely caught onto the scent. Her sense of smell brings her closer to Balinne and Nolee's table, and her sense of sight encourages her to steer their way--familiar faces! "How! How did I not know they were gonna have such wonderful food today! Ista has such fantastic fresh seafood, eh?" She eyes Balinne as the greenrider shucks, apparently semi-suspicious of the fact that she's not actually eating any.
Giggling a little, Balinne tosses another meaty bit into a bin. Toss! Score. "Sleeping? I wish! Hides, drills, sweeps, lectures, running laps with the Wing... There's no time for sleep at all, Nolee! You just lucked out. All you have to do is run the Weyr," and there's definite humor in her voice, and she laughs. "Ooh, singing!" But she spares the group from her own terrible voice. "Oh dear," and now she's glancing at the bowl, and sighing. "Looks like I spoke too soon. Sorry Nolee," and she stands, offering her just-opened oyster to the goldrider. "Apparently, there is a small crisis now."
"They have," concurs Nolee grandly as Fayre makes her way in. "We were just lucky this captain saw fight to share with us as we prepare for his daughter's wedding feast. Though I suspect," she muses, "If it'd be another few days, it these might've gone for Nalaieth's and Vildaeth's hatching feast. Or maybe you have a sense for good eating days. That'd be handy." All that is chattered before Balinne's words register, and Nolee pauses in oyster-prying. "A small one? Jays, I hope it's only a small one. At least with running the weyr, all the small crisis-thingys are your problems." A cheery wink as she dishes it right back, joining in the humming and offering a short knifey wave to wish the Wingleader good luck with it.
"Just a small one," Balinne assures Nolee with a grin. She glances at Fayre and offers her knife. "Here," she says with another grin. "You can eat my share, then. You weird seafood people!" And then another little wince. "Ack, I'm coming," she says for the voice in her head. "Bye," and off she goes, darting through the crowd as only one of her height can.
As Balinne leaves her seat, Fayre slips right in before any other oyster-lover can. Her face falls a little as she does so, though, and the rider offers an unhappy goodbye to Balinne, "Aww, shucks. I have bad timing, don't I? But hah! Shucks! Get it?" Her chestnut eyes twinkle a bit with mirth as she gestures towards all the oyster-shucking going on, trying to make her pun clear. She gratefully accepts the knife and bobs her head, causing a few hairs to fly out of her tight braid. "Good luck, Bali, with whatever it is!" It's not long before she's enthusiastically prying open the oysters with her secondhand knife, her expertise from spending many Turns working in the kitchens fairly obvious.
"Weird?" Nolee echoes, interrupting the song a moment to repeat. "Hmph." Balinne's exit allows Nalaieth's to dip her head in welcome to Lieryth's, giving her junior a wide smile. "That was good timing, actually, since it meant you got a seat." The pun brings a laugh, but only after a long pause where Nolee has to puzzle out why the 'hah' and the 'get it?' "Ooh, because we're shucking these, and it's - I see." The rhythm of the action returns, Nolee interrupting hers to slurp here and there. "Jays, yours has got to be pretty egg-heavy by now. Does she get off her feed, before the flight or the eggs come? Nala sure does. Can read it like a message, now, but not at first."
Fayre's chuckling gets louder at Nolee's delayed reaction, but it dies out as their conversation shifts from cheesy puns to more important and interesting things. "Aye, yes. I'm being real strict with her about overflying and that sorta thing now. We're both real excited. Plus, she's a huge fan of Ista anyway, so she's not too miffed about not being able to travel for a good long while." After a quick look around, she sneakily tosses a particularly succulent piece of oyster upwards with her knife and catches it with her eager mouth. "Mmm. This is gonna be some feast, if that piece o' meat was any indication."
"Oh, that's good. About overflying. Especially if she's prone to it, or just wants some adventure before she's stuck. Or I guess she doesn't have to be, most just pick it over letting their eggs be unguarded." Shuck, shuck go the oysters. "Untrusting things, aren't they?" Nolee nods approval at Lieryth being a fan of Ista, as though Fayre had some say in the opinions of her gold. "How'd you get good at catching it like that?" Nolee has to try: the meat and goo around it are flung upward, where they stick to her hair, prompting her to peel it free with a grimace. "Guess I need more practice."
Fayre puts her knife and current oyster down for a moment; the better to focus on Nolee's attempt to catch a piece of meat in her mouth, you see. The rider does her best to cover a giggle by demonstrating her little trick again. Flick and catch, all with no goo in her hair. "Oh, just Turns of practice doin' silly stuff like that. I used to be a kitchen assistant, y'see. And...well, I'd get hungry! Cookin' all that delicious food. But I had to be careful about sneakin' a bite so I wouldn't get scolded, so I learned to be quick." Then it's back to the subject of Lieryth. "Yeah, she's tryin' to get lotsa exercise in before she's stuck on the sands. Not that she minds the idea, really, it's just she feels awful if she doesn't get a day of hard work in. Sittin' around on the sands will be real new to her."
Nolee watches, a little distracted by oyster slime in her hair, but not too much. "You did? Oh, if I'd been that any time I should've tried to learn it, too. Good way to catch a snack." A pause. "Get it? Catch a snack?" Nolee bursts into laughter so loud the song is momentarily interrupted to gawp at her before it resumes with a rather bawdy verse that leaves the bridegroom-to-be flushed and grinning. "Nala's almost the opposite. She's no more fond of work than I am." A musing thought. "No, she is more fond than I am. Just about different things. It's funny the smallest gold I've ever seen is so industr--industus-that. And that she has her middle so rounded, too." Small giggle of her own, before she tries another oyster, this one sticking on a seaman's bald pate. "Oops," she softly murmurs, shrugging at the surprised man.
Fayre begins to bob her head along to the song, though she doesn't actually break out into singing--she couldn't be so chatty if she did, after all. She begins to shuck more or less to the rhythm of the song, which means Nolee's semi-sudden burst of laughing jolts her along with the singers. "Oh! Ah, yes. Good one, Noles." Fayre smiles and nods encouragingly, as if she was talking to a young weyrbrat. "Aye, she is a bit small, ain't she? But real muscular too. And pretty dark coloured. She could be mistaken for a bronze, I think, if ya just glanced at her. Y'know?" Her eyes follow that flying piece of oyster and she winces when it makes contact with a poor man's bald spot. "Oy! Maybe y'should practice when it's emptier in here. Becomin' something of a hazard, eh?"
"Thanks!" Nolee is clearly still pleased by her jest, and it's a hindrance to her progress with the molllusk pile. "She is. Good that she's dark, and so much less pale than some of them, indeed a good sign. Pale ones look so sickly to me. Like that new-hatched bronze over at the Reaches - portents aren't so good for the pale ones." A shrug: their problem, not hers. "Hope she'll have a big clutch; we could sure use it after Nala..." The rest left unsaid, about Nala and Vil's small numbers in clutch sizes. The bald fellow peels the oyster and flings it back, where it lands on the table with a squelch, and Nolee laughs, pleased for the distraction. "True! Like on the beach, perhaps."
Fayre chews on her bottom lip when the recently hatched pale bronze is mentioned and she busies herself with scooping all her empty shells up and dumping them in the appropriate bucket. "Oh, well. I quite liked the clutch, but maybe I'm biased, 'cause it was part Malsaeth's an' all." Her chewing increases in intensity and she begins to shuck those oysters faster to distract herself. "Oh, well. I mean, it is her first clutch. Mikhuth's too. So I'm tryin' not to think pressurin' thoughts, y'know? And it is an interval, after all."
Nolee watches the bottom-lip chewing with some fascination. She's about to ask if Fayre's hungry, gesturing to a recently-opened shell in her hand, when the goldrider speaks. "True! I'd almost forgot they had an Istan sire, and your own clutchsib at that. Jays, I shouldn't mention that the bronze was all pale, at least not if he's about. Wouldn't due to have people say Ista's sires make weak dragons." For Ista's own impending clutching, Nolee smiles. "I'm sure they'll do well. Strong sires, and she had a good high flight. Not like - well, you know." Loath to say Nalaieth's name out loud and draw her attention unduly, the rider instead just gulps another oyster. "Your's'll be fine, I'm sure. Jays, even mine made it without any trouble."
Fayre smiles crookedly as Nolee belatedly remembers the Istan connection. "Woulda thought you'd remember, considerin' all the trouble it caused with...ah, y'know. The tension and things." She coughs uncomfortably and stares determinedly at the pile of oysters she's shucking. She brightens some as her attention shifts back to Lieryth's impending clutch and she smiles, shrugging her right shoulder at the same time. "Eh, that's true. She did go real high. Her muscles helped, I think. It was interestin', seeing her flight style for the first time. Looked to be strong with no fancy tricks."
"Right, those red-painted ones. And that inhospitable place." Looks like she's added a vocabulary word and is overeager to use it on someone or some thing. "Musclar, is yours? Being smaller's an advantage there especially. That's one of Nala's weaknesses," Nolee easily confesses, "That she's so large, and trying to outwit them with swirls and flying low when she should've done like yours, high and far and made them work for it." Then a light flush and a blissful, secretive smile. "Though I'm glad she wound up caught by Vildaeth's, this time especially. How's the sire of yours? Seem a decent fellow?"
"Aye, right. Cold place, cold attitudes." Fayre names no particulars, but it's quite clear where and who she is referring to. She shudders, as if the Reaches famous snow really was barreling down on her, and sets her knife down for now. "Yup. She's curvy, as ya know. And that stuff makin' up the curves is good ol' muscle. She's not happy with her day if she hasn't exercised, y'see." Fayre suddenly smiles and admits, "Yeah, I am quite happy with the way she flew. I'm sure I'll be real proud of her eggs and hatchlings." Her smile widens at the mention of C'len and she beams at the Weyrwoman. "He sired Nala's first, didn't he? I hear you two remained something of a pair."
"Cold just about covers it," the Weyrwoman replies, darkly, her knife snicking against the shell of the next bivalve with a scraped enthusiasm. "Except for C'len. He's of there. Well, of Southern Boll, really, but his Vildaeth's hatched out of there." A nod for Lieryth's need to exercise, and a laugh. "Nala'd just be a butterball if she could, and never move a muscle unless she was made to it. Good thing she has to lead the wing or she'd barely be airborne when she got glowy." Worried face, then a pleased, "Good. Wouldn't want to hear else. Won't hear that we don't treat the sires well, or paint his feed either. Heard that Weyrwoman at Fort sanctions gambling and drinking caverns right inside the weyr; hope he's not prone to it, but can't control them." Her nattering pauses as she smiles again, genuine. "We did. He's heaps of nice."
Fayre blushes just a tad when she's reminded of C'len's home Weyr. "Oh, well, of course! He's just super. And now he's ours! Very fittin'." She nods, very enthused, when the further fact that he's originally from Southern Boll is revealed. "Ah, and he was ours, in a way, to begin with. Very nice." She coughs a bit as Nolee puts down gambling and drinking and the rider nonchalantly slides out of her chair. "Oh, well, ah. No, he doesn't seem like a gambler. He does seem real nice. Haven't had a chance to really chat with him except right after the flight, and you know how those conversations usually go." She pointedly says nothing about her own gambling habits. Her eyes go a bit unfocused for a moment before she continues, "Mmm. Speaking of my egg heavy dragon. She wants to go visit Malsaeth's children. I better go firmly talk her outta it."
"He is! And I'm very happy to have him." As her tone might suggest, she's also a little smug about it. "Good thing he had practice there at being a Wingleader, though. Well -" Nolee considers, then shakes her head. "Not exactly ours. Fort's, kinda. Closer there, I think. But I'm bad at geograpy, so maybe you're right." A nod for Fayre's comment for after the flight conversations, the older woman pleased the younger one has settled into the way of such things so well already. "Ooh. Ohh! Right. That you should. I'll finish up this little stack and then be off for a bath, myself. Thanks for the help, F -- F --" a pause, Nolee trying to get the name right, but she fails to recall it, instead falling back on, "Lieryth's." Still, progress!
Fayre smiles a little knowingly, a little sadly as Nolee sounds out the first letter of her name. "Fayre, dear." She supplies, a sudden motherly tone invading her voice. "Have fun with the rowdy crowd n'fresh food!" She gestures towards the cheery singers with a laugh before weaving her way through the loud bunch towards the bowl.
"Fayre, dear," Nolee repeats, in that same motherly tone, so quick the reaction is deeply ingrained from days of weyrlinghood. "See you at drills - oh no, we won't, since Nala's still on the sands, and yours is so close. Jays. The wing in their hands, all alone." Worry for a moment subsides to a cheery wave to Fayre then a vigorous attack on the oyster stack. "G'night, Fayredeer."