Someone of your status
1-31-2007 (Aloureia, Reyce):
Northern Bowl
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
A number of tunnels breach the walls of the bowl, leading to various indoor parts of the Weyr. To the southwest, a vast tunnel entrance descends to the baths, curls of steam seeping out on colder days. On the northern face of the stone, a huge gaping maw betrays the presence of the Hatching cavern. Somewhat more modest tunnel entrances lead to the living caverns and the versatile classroom chamber to the west, and the Weyrleaders' complex to the east. In the distance to the south, the vast grey-blue of the lake stretches off to meet the southern wall of the bowl.
This windy winter day is bitter and unforgiving. The wind cuts through layers without apparent effort, sneaking down deep to chill the bone and leave fingers and noses bloodless and icy. Worst of all, the gusts pick up tiny pebbles of ice and seem to delight in flinging them at uncovered faces.
With her pack slung over a shoulder, Lou strikes out across the bowl. The angle of her path carries her close to the caucus barracks, an area she's frequented considerably for most of the day. In passing by the entrance, a curious look is thrown into the area. Granted, she can't see all that much, but there is a certain twist of her neck as she passes beyond that speaks of a hope at finding one person in particular.
Whoever she hopes to find, Benden's bastard is the man she gets. Standing by the coat rack just inside the entrance, Reyce is pulling on the last of his three jackets, tugging up the collar of the heaviest one and tucking his mouth under it before he heads out. A blast of wind strikes just as he steps outside, sending up a flurry of snow that he instinctively turns his back on; since it comes from Lou's direction, he turns his back on her, as well.
If it were anyone but Lou, it might easily be taken as an insult - that turned back to her. By a bastard, no less. Though as it stands, a smile breaks across Lou's features. She pivots easily on her heel, ducking her head against the wind and moving closer toward Reyce. With a few casual steps, she puts herself in pace with him and casually asks, "Benden, right?"
Somewhere between the bundle of jackets and mop of curls, there is a clear strip of face that sends a narrow glare Lou's way. "Yeah," Reyce confirms, tilting his chin into his coat collar as he angles a look down so he can actually see the short woman next to him. "What?" This as his eyes sweep back up her form and narrow further when they find her face.
"Touchy," Lou declares quietly, though without any indication of insult from the Reyce-typical greeting. "I'm Lou," With a quick pause, Lou abandons the offer of her hand and instead brushes it against the side of her face, "You heading somewhere or do you have time to talk?"
Touchy he may be about many things, but hearing himself described thus has long since stopped being one of those things. Reyce hears the quiet word, no doubt, for he blinks slowly when she speaks it, yet it doesn't change (what's visible of) his flat expression. The pace of his walk doesn't slow, but suddenly - as he makes his decision, apparently - he steps aside from the straight-line path he's been following and stops. "Got time."
Lou is indeed caught by the sudden movement. She turns a few seconds after he does, but still maintains a smile upon facing him. "I usually don't do this, but I suppose exceptions need to be made-" A casual once over gives way to, "From time to time. Anyways, someone said I should look into asking you if I can help you with anything. So."
Reyce lifts his shoulders, bringing the top line of the jackets even higher. His eyes show enough to make his mouth unnecessary, and at the moment his eyes have gone narrow again. "Don't need any help." One drawback of the jackets, however, is that they muffle his already quiet voice; the words are audible, but one has to strain for them.
"It's not that sort of help." Lou corrects, dropping her chin and lifting her eyes to meet his, "Though if you're sure you don't want anything....well then, I should get this letter delivered before I waste any more of my time."
Reyce stares at her for a moment, uncomprehension written on his face. When that moment breaks, he shakes his head, drawing a quick sniff as he turns his head back towards the original path he was headed down. "Sure. Got no idea what you mean." Back to her now, he lets another beat fall before he shrugs.
In that beat, Lou says, "Figured someone of your status would figure it out," Conversational and not intended to be insulting, Lou trails lazily in his wake - matching his low tone with a low tone - "Lots of folk in your position tend to need things they can't get. If you're passing, though, I've got other names on my list."
The twist of his mouth - it could be a sneer as easily as a smirk - may not be visible in itself, but the movement below the coat is enough to create a sudden crinkling of skin below Reyce's eye. "Figure someone selling things'd know how to get a point across." Now he does move, turning to resume his slow trudge towards the living caverns.
"I sell things." Lou counters with a half-smirk, "If you're interested, speak up." To her credit, she doesn't trail after him, though she does watch his back while waiting for a response.
The slow trugdging continues, but Reyce lifts his voice and lets the wind carry it back to her. "Might be." Simple enough. "What things?" But there are always complications.
"Name it and I can probably get it. It'll cost you but you can afford it." Still not chasing after him, Lou remains planted with her arms crossed over her chest.
So Reyce stops. If there's an etiquette to these kind of sales, he's not aware of it, or else he doesn't care. Back to her, he crosses his arms and turns a look over his shoulder, his eyes sliding back to find her. He makes no move to recross the distance that's opened up between them, nor does he seem to indicate she should do so. He only says, "Cost me more. Cost me how much more?" Than the legitimate price, perhaps.
"Depends," Lou, now feeling she can afford to drawl lazily, does so. "Mostly on what you want. Helps if I like you enough to give you a discount." If the faint twist of her lips into a frown is any indication on where Reyce currently stands in that aspect, well, it's probably not very high.
Reyce's eyes flick down to process that faint twist, his own forehead pulling into a faint frown while he registers her expression from this distance. It takes him a beat, just to be sure, and then he lifts a blank stare to meet Lou's eye. "Can give me a discount, probably won't. Want to sell things, don't want to say it. Don't bother." He turns his face back forward and resumes his trudge, hiking his jackets up against another blast of wind.
"You'll change your mind. Do it soon too... the price'll keep going up." Confident, or at least sounding so, Lou watches him retreat and doesn't attempt to say anything else to change his mind.
Northern Bowl
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
A number of tunnels breach the walls of the bowl, leading to various indoor parts of the Weyr. To the southwest, a vast tunnel entrance descends to the baths, curls of steam seeping out on colder days. On the northern face of the stone, a huge gaping maw betrays the presence of the Hatching cavern. Somewhat more modest tunnel entrances lead to the living caverns and the versatile classroom chamber to the west, and the Weyrleaders' complex to the east. In the distance to the south, the vast grey-blue of the lake stretches off to meet the southern wall of the bowl.
This windy winter day is bitter and unforgiving. The wind cuts through layers without apparent effort, sneaking down deep to chill the bone and leave fingers and noses bloodless and icy. Worst of all, the gusts pick up tiny pebbles of ice and seem to delight in flinging them at uncovered faces.
With her pack slung over a shoulder, Lou strikes out across the bowl. The angle of her path carries her close to the caucus barracks, an area she's frequented considerably for most of the day. In passing by the entrance, a curious look is thrown into the area. Granted, she can't see all that much, but there is a certain twist of her neck as she passes beyond that speaks of a hope at finding one person in particular.
Whoever she hopes to find, Benden's bastard is the man she gets. Standing by the coat rack just inside the entrance, Reyce is pulling on the last of his three jackets, tugging up the collar of the heaviest one and tucking his mouth under it before he heads out. A blast of wind strikes just as he steps outside, sending up a flurry of snow that he instinctively turns his back on; since it comes from Lou's direction, he turns his back on her, as well.
If it were anyone but Lou, it might easily be taken as an insult - that turned back to her. By a bastard, no less. Though as it stands, a smile breaks across Lou's features. She pivots easily on her heel, ducking her head against the wind and moving closer toward Reyce. With a few casual steps, she puts herself in pace with him and casually asks, "Benden, right?"
Somewhere between the bundle of jackets and mop of curls, there is a clear strip of face that sends a narrow glare Lou's way. "Yeah," Reyce confirms, tilting his chin into his coat collar as he angles a look down so he can actually see the short woman next to him. "What?" This as his eyes sweep back up her form and narrow further when they find her face.
"Touchy," Lou declares quietly, though without any indication of insult from the Reyce-typical greeting. "I'm Lou," With a quick pause, Lou abandons the offer of her hand and instead brushes it against the side of her face, "You heading somewhere or do you have time to talk?"
Touchy he may be about many things, but hearing himself described thus has long since stopped being one of those things. Reyce hears the quiet word, no doubt, for he blinks slowly when she speaks it, yet it doesn't change (what's visible of) his flat expression. The pace of his walk doesn't slow, but suddenly - as he makes his decision, apparently - he steps aside from the straight-line path he's been following and stops. "Got time."
Lou is indeed caught by the sudden movement. She turns a few seconds after he does, but still maintains a smile upon facing him. "I usually don't do this, but I suppose exceptions need to be made-" A casual once over gives way to, "From time to time. Anyways, someone said I should look into asking you if I can help you with anything. So."
Reyce lifts his shoulders, bringing the top line of the jackets even higher. His eyes show enough to make his mouth unnecessary, and at the moment his eyes have gone narrow again. "Don't need any help." One drawback of the jackets, however, is that they muffle his already quiet voice; the words are audible, but one has to strain for them.
"It's not that sort of help." Lou corrects, dropping her chin and lifting her eyes to meet his, "Though if you're sure you don't want anything....well then, I should get this letter delivered before I waste any more of my time."
Reyce stares at her for a moment, uncomprehension written on his face. When that moment breaks, he shakes his head, drawing a quick sniff as he turns his head back towards the original path he was headed down. "Sure. Got no idea what you mean." Back to her now, he lets another beat fall before he shrugs.
In that beat, Lou says, "Figured someone of your status would figure it out," Conversational and not intended to be insulting, Lou trails lazily in his wake - matching his low tone with a low tone - "Lots of folk in your position tend to need things they can't get. If you're passing, though, I've got other names on my list."
The twist of his mouth - it could be a sneer as easily as a smirk - may not be visible in itself, but the movement below the coat is enough to create a sudden crinkling of skin below Reyce's eye. "Figure someone selling things'd know how to get a point across." Now he does move, turning to resume his slow trudge towards the living caverns.
"I sell things." Lou counters with a half-smirk, "If you're interested, speak up." To her credit, she doesn't trail after him, though she does watch his back while waiting for a response.
The slow trugdging continues, but Reyce lifts his voice and lets the wind carry it back to her. "Might be." Simple enough. "What things?" But there are always complications.
"Name it and I can probably get it. It'll cost you but you can afford it." Still not chasing after him, Lou remains planted with her arms crossed over her chest.
So Reyce stops. If there's an etiquette to these kind of sales, he's not aware of it, or else he doesn't care. Back to her, he crosses his arms and turns a look over his shoulder, his eyes sliding back to find her. He makes no move to recross the distance that's opened up between them, nor does he seem to indicate she should do so. He only says, "Cost me more. Cost me how much more?" Than the legitimate price, perhaps.
"Depends," Lou, now feeling she can afford to drawl lazily, does so. "Mostly on what you want. Helps if I like you enough to give you a discount." If the faint twist of her lips into a frown is any indication on where Reyce currently stands in that aspect, well, it's probably not very high.
Reyce's eyes flick down to process that faint twist, his own forehead pulling into a faint frown while he registers her expression from this distance. It takes him a beat, just to be sure, and then he lifts a blank stare to meet Lou's eye. "Can give me a discount, probably won't. Want to sell things, don't want to say it. Don't bother." He turns his face back forward and resumes his trudge, hiking his jackets up against another blast of wind.
"You'll change your mind. Do it soon too... the price'll keep going up." Confident, or at least sounding so, Lou watches him retreat and doesn't attempt to say anything else to change his mind.