Raised to be polite
I am going to (attempt to) offer summaries of my logs, starting now. Keep in mind that the reason I usually avoid it is that I suck at summarizing, ergo we have:
Reyce meets Kenathan, a starving visitor from a Nabolese cothold. Short introductions are exchanged. Rysia arrives, but Reyce leaves when the flattery begins.
2-5-2007 (Reyce, Kenathan, Rysia):
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
Warm, fresh smells of breakfast fill the living cavern, but this early in the morning there are few willing to get up for the fresh food. Or perhaps they're unwilling to walk through the drench of rainwater outside. Whatever the case, the room remains largely empty, and even the most desirable hearth tables still have plenty of room. Reyce sits at one of them, his arm swung out protectively over the single bowl of warm meal that makes his breakfast. His hair drips heavy with water, but a towel wrapped around his shoulders prevents any of it from ruining his meal.
The scent of breakfast. And a tall boy, a stranger, coming out of the lower caverns from the direction of guest quarters, his knot not of High Reaches, and carrying a lean look...a little underfed, even. And hesitant as he makes his way towards the breakfast now set out for the weyrfolk, glancing around as if desperately seeking somebody. He looks very...out of place.
Deciding to add to his small breakfast, Reyce pushes up from his bench and throws the towel down on his spot, claiming it. He cuts a clean, straight path to the serving tables to fill himself a mug of klah, and incidentally brushes a few feet in front of Kenathan. The boy is noted, briefly, with an unhelpful and unexpressive glance, but then Reyce goes back to topping off his mug.
Kenathan is going to step back a little, letting the adult go first. And then, he will be filling himself a bowl of the nourishing (And hot, meal) and a mug of klah. He's also eyeing some of the other food present, the very look of somebody not sure what he is allowed to take for himself.
Reyce accepts the space Kenathan grants him as his due, and ignores him from that point forward. Or would, but while he loiters by the klah pot adding sweetener and stirring it in, the boy reaches over for the nearby klah pot and the sudden intrusion of a nearby human presence startles a soft snort out of Reyce as he steps aside to avoid any possible contact. Klah in hand, he slips away from the serving tables to return to his own warm choice by the hearth.
Kenathan is a little startled by the snort, which shows in the way he moves. The knot of a Nabol cotholder, and then he studies the man for a moment. Quietly, "Hello?" As if seeking some, any, human company.
Reyce qualifies as human, so there's that. By the time Kenathan reaches his table, he's just settling back in, just re-wrapping the towel around his neck; all he needs to do is turn slightly further around to catch sight of the boy who has addressed him. "Yeah?" he returns, lifting a corner of the towel to scratch absently at water dripping down his cheek.
About sixteen. Lean. No, skinny. Setting his stuff down at the next table. "Just saying hello." Raised to be polite, perhaps. Eyes showing a confidence, now, even if it's one sought with an effort. And then food is what gets the attention. He looks like he needs it.
Reyce's cheeks puff out with some response caught before it makes its way into words. In the next moment he sucks them back in, making the pursed face of someone who has just sucked on a lemon. "Okay," he breathes out quietly, mostly to himself. His spoon dives into the meal before him, a clink sounding on the bottom of the bowl before he offers a return, "Hey." It's grudgingly offered, sure, but it's offered. He glowers at his meal as though it were to blame, and fills his mouth with it. Revenge. It calms him some.
The boy eats some more spoonfuls of his meal before venturing, "I'm Kenathan." Three syllables, clearly and carefully pronounced. But it's still clear that a good bit of his attention is on stuffing his face.
Reyce's cheeks are puffed for a different reason, the meal filling them out. A soft noise sounds as he sucks it in through his teeth, pulling his cheeks back to regular size as he swallows it down. "Reyce," he answers. The name rhymes with 'race,' but even this man would not be cruel and unusual enough to challenge the starved boy to a random running contest. Lest there be any doubt about the introduction, he adds shortly, "Bastard of Benden," and turns a sidelong eye on Kenathan to monitor his response.
Response? A slight arched eyebrow, an uncertain reaction. "I'm not used," the boy admits, "To rubbing shoulders with Blood." A pause, and Ken admits, "Just a cotholder's son." Cotholder's son, not cotholder. But he doesn't seem...bothered. Just...a little out of place, again.
Reyce's eyebrows draw in, his expression unreadable for that moment. His shoulders, however, twitch up as though the thought of rubbing with anyone provoked an automatic revulsion, and he has to gives them a roll back to ease the muscles into place. "Doesn't matter," he states shortly, switching his spoon out for his mug of klah. "Here for what?" he asks, though his eyes are on the klah he's tilting towards himself.
"I got family here. My uncle's a guard, one of the ones they brought in from outside. I think he's hoping I'll find work." The boy goes back to devouring his meal while he waits for some kind of response or reaction.
Glugging away quietly at his klah, Reyce leans back to turn another look over his shoulder, getting an easier view of the starved boy. His eyes thin, some private judgment running through them, before he stamps the mug back on the table with the breezy note, "Hire anybody." Whether that's meant to be helpful or disparaging isn't clarified by the simple shrug he gives while reaching for his spoon again.
Kenathan settles back a bit into his chair. "You mean that? I got to find something." A little hint of desperation there, of poverty. Hollow eyes, a little haunted, regard the man for a moment.
The sudden desperation directed at him startles Reyce, who twists in his chair yet again to return Kenathan's hollowed stare with his own reserved wariness. He draws in the boy's expression slowly, taking his sweet time over his own response. Another shrug precedes it, though he doesn't turn away this time. "Only live here, wouldn't know. Headwoman's choice. Get mucking out the stables, something, doesn't take much."
Kenathan nods a bit. Almost that desperate. And looking away. Taking that look away. "Uncle's hoping I'll train as a guard." Deep breaths. And then the food, more interesting again.
Reyce's response to that one is immediate: a little snort, and then he turns back to his food. "Break you," he tells the starving boy over his shoulder.
"Not once I get some food inside me," Kenathan says quietly. "I haven't broken yet...and had plenty of chances to." That's as much of deeper emotions as he reveals...a hint of bitterness. Nabol.
Reyce's eyes flick sideways, though not enough to really catch sight of the boy - he'd have to turn for that. Meal in his mouth delays his answer for a moment, another noise sounding as he pulls it through his teeth. "Okay," he replies, indifference in his tone, though there's the spark of something sharper in his eyes.
Rysia arrives through the long tunnel that comes from the lower caverns.
Rysia has arrived.
The oblique questioning is lost on Reyce, who simply blinks at the question and faces forward again with his eyes slightly squinted in puzzlement. "Yeah," he answers, pulling the word out with a resurgence of slow wariness. He's sitting at a table near the hearth, a towel wrapped round his shoulders, talking to Kenathan who's at the table next to his. It's early morning and breakfast is fresh.
Rysia makes her way in with other early morning risers, though in this case, it's never-went-to-bed. Making her way towards the breakfast table, a mug of klah is poured, heavy with the sweetner. A roll of some sort is put on a plate, nothing else added, before she makes her way towards a table.
Kenathan hesitates, then stands up. "Excuse me." He takes his bowl back to the breakfast table and refills it...adding one of those rolls. He looks like he could use the seconds. And thirds.
Reyce grunts to acknowledge the departure, but he does not move from his own meal. Even withoug snarfing it the way Kenathan did his own, he's close to finishing it; nevertheless, he's taking his sweet time over the remainder. It's not as though it's uncomfortable sitting by the fire on a cold morning, really.
Rysia hesitates a moment, considering the various tables before heading towards one only slightly occupied, "Mind an extra body?" she asks after a moment, nodding towards an empty spot.
Kenathan is going to take a few moments to come back over...he's also getting more klah. And, thus, not paying any attention, yet, to the female joining Reyce.
Reyce hears the footsteps headed his way even before a voice crops up to go with him, yet while he turns his head slightly in Rysia's direction it's not until he's directly addressed that he actually looks up at her. He draws in a quick sniff, spying her, and allows the empty spot with a grunt as he shifts away to leave more room for her to take it. "Go ahead," he allows, though he doesn't bother to raise
Rysia offers a quick smile, and slides into the seat, before wrapping herself around the mug of hot drink, taking a sip of the almost too hot liquid, letting the sweetness curl her toes. "Aaaahh. Perfect."
Kenathan finally comes back over, returning to the seat he vacated, and his eyes flick over Rysia, with a bit of a smile. "Ma'am..." The default for women you don't know. Even if she does only have a resident's knot.
One of those quiet table moments with a stranger. If it's awkward, it doesn't register on Reyce's social radar; he simply emits a rumbling throat sound - it could be a response, albeit not a responsive one - as Rysia next to him declares the klah 'perfect,' and falls into stoic silence staring at the fire.
"Rysia..." the resident young woman corrects with a crooked grin before taking another, smaller sip, before pausing and tilting her head at Kenathan, "I don't be knowin' you, right?"
Kenathan shakes his head. "No, and I would definitely remember a face like yours." He quirks a bit of a grin at the girl. Oh dear. One of *those*.
That's enough to shake Reyce out of his absent reverie, if only slightly. His lip curls briefly, a cynical and much lesser version of Kenathan's grin, but he makes no comment. He does interrupt other comments, for a short while, by dragging his klah mug across the table towards himself with a loud scrape as the bottom of it passes over the table; the loud scrape ends abruptly once he's had his fill of the noise, and lifts it for a drink.
Rysia eyes Kenathan, or rather that grin, and shakes her head with a grin, "Flattery will get your everywhere. Or no-where, not quite sure at the moment."
Kenathan hrms a little bit. "Well, it's worth trying, just in case it's the former one." He quirks a bit of a grin at her again...shameless, right now. And then he remembers his all-important food.
The bottom of the mug tilts higher and higher as Reyce decides to drain it, setting it down when he's done with a much less invasive sound than he used in picking it up. "Got class," he mutters as he steps back from the table, taking the bowl and the mug with him to leave for cleaning staff on his way out to the bowl.
Reyce meets Kenathan, a starving visitor from a Nabolese cothold. Short introductions are exchanged. Rysia arrives, but Reyce leaves when the flattery begins.
2-5-2007 (Reyce, Kenathan, Rysia):
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
Warm, fresh smells of breakfast fill the living cavern, but this early in the morning there are few willing to get up for the fresh food. Or perhaps they're unwilling to walk through the drench of rainwater outside. Whatever the case, the room remains largely empty, and even the most desirable hearth tables still have plenty of room. Reyce sits at one of them, his arm swung out protectively over the single bowl of warm meal that makes his breakfast. His hair drips heavy with water, but a towel wrapped around his shoulders prevents any of it from ruining his meal.
The scent of breakfast. And a tall boy, a stranger, coming out of the lower caverns from the direction of guest quarters, his knot not of High Reaches, and carrying a lean look...a little underfed, even. And hesitant as he makes his way towards the breakfast now set out for the weyrfolk, glancing around as if desperately seeking somebody. He looks very...out of place.
Deciding to add to his small breakfast, Reyce pushes up from his bench and throws the towel down on his spot, claiming it. He cuts a clean, straight path to the serving tables to fill himself a mug of klah, and incidentally brushes a few feet in front of Kenathan. The boy is noted, briefly, with an unhelpful and unexpressive glance, but then Reyce goes back to topping off his mug.
Kenathan is going to step back a little, letting the adult go first. And then, he will be filling himself a bowl of the nourishing (And hot, meal) and a mug of klah. He's also eyeing some of the other food present, the very look of somebody not sure what he is allowed to take for himself.
Reyce accepts the space Kenathan grants him as his due, and ignores him from that point forward. Or would, but while he loiters by the klah pot adding sweetener and stirring it in, the boy reaches over for the nearby klah pot and the sudden intrusion of a nearby human presence startles a soft snort out of Reyce as he steps aside to avoid any possible contact. Klah in hand, he slips away from the serving tables to return to his own warm choice by the hearth.
Kenathan is a little startled by the snort, which shows in the way he moves. The knot of a Nabol cotholder, and then he studies the man for a moment. Quietly, "Hello?" As if seeking some, any, human company.
Reyce qualifies as human, so there's that. By the time Kenathan reaches his table, he's just settling back in, just re-wrapping the towel around his neck; all he needs to do is turn slightly further around to catch sight of the boy who has addressed him. "Yeah?" he returns, lifting a corner of the towel to scratch absently at water dripping down his cheek.
About sixteen. Lean. No, skinny. Setting his stuff down at the next table. "Just saying hello." Raised to be polite, perhaps. Eyes showing a confidence, now, even if it's one sought with an effort. And then food is what gets the attention. He looks like he needs it.
Reyce's cheeks puff out with some response caught before it makes its way into words. In the next moment he sucks them back in, making the pursed face of someone who has just sucked on a lemon. "Okay," he breathes out quietly, mostly to himself. His spoon dives into the meal before him, a clink sounding on the bottom of the bowl before he offers a return, "Hey." It's grudgingly offered, sure, but it's offered. He glowers at his meal as though it were to blame, and fills his mouth with it. Revenge. It calms him some.
The boy eats some more spoonfuls of his meal before venturing, "I'm Kenathan." Three syllables, clearly and carefully pronounced. But it's still clear that a good bit of his attention is on stuffing his face.
Reyce's cheeks are puffed for a different reason, the meal filling them out. A soft noise sounds as he sucks it in through his teeth, pulling his cheeks back to regular size as he swallows it down. "Reyce," he answers. The name rhymes with 'race,' but even this man would not be cruel and unusual enough to challenge the starved boy to a random running contest. Lest there be any doubt about the introduction, he adds shortly, "Bastard of Benden," and turns a sidelong eye on Kenathan to monitor his response.
Response? A slight arched eyebrow, an uncertain reaction. "I'm not used," the boy admits, "To rubbing shoulders with Blood." A pause, and Ken admits, "Just a cotholder's son." Cotholder's son, not cotholder. But he doesn't seem...bothered. Just...a little out of place, again.
Reyce's eyebrows draw in, his expression unreadable for that moment. His shoulders, however, twitch up as though the thought of rubbing with anyone provoked an automatic revulsion, and he has to gives them a roll back to ease the muscles into place. "Doesn't matter," he states shortly, switching his spoon out for his mug of klah. "Here for what?" he asks, though his eyes are on the klah he's tilting towards himself.
"I got family here. My uncle's a guard, one of the ones they brought in from outside. I think he's hoping I'll find work." The boy goes back to devouring his meal while he waits for some kind of response or reaction.
Glugging away quietly at his klah, Reyce leans back to turn another look over his shoulder, getting an easier view of the starved boy. His eyes thin, some private judgment running through them, before he stamps the mug back on the table with the breezy note, "Hire anybody." Whether that's meant to be helpful or disparaging isn't clarified by the simple shrug he gives while reaching for his spoon again.
Kenathan settles back a bit into his chair. "You mean that? I got to find something." A little hint of desperation there, of poverty. Hollow eyes, a little haunted, regard the man for a moment.
The sudden desperation directed at him startles Reyce, who twists in his chair yet again to return Kenathan's hollowed stare with his own reserved wariness. He draws in the boy's expression slowly, taking his sweet time over his own response. Another shrug precedes it, though he doesn't turn away this time. "Only live here, wouldn't know. Headwoman's choice. Get mucking out the stables, something, doesn't take much."
Kenathan nods a bit. Almost that desperate. And looking away. Taking that look away. "Uncle's hoping I'll train as a guard." Deep breaths. And then the food, more interesting again.
Reyce's response to that one is immediate: a little snort, and then he turns back to his food. "Break you," he tells the starving boy over his shoulder.
"Not once I get some food inside me," Kenathan says quietly. "I haven't broken yet...and had plenty of chances to." That's as much of deeper emotions as he reveals...a hint of bitterness. Nabol.
Reyce's eyes flick sideways, though not enough to really catch sight of the boy - he'd have to turn for that. Meal in his mouth delays his answer for a moment, another noise sounding as he pulls it through his teeth. "Okay," he replies, indifference in his tone, though there's the spark of something sharper in his eyes.
Rysia arrives through the long tunnel that comes from the lower caverns.
Rysia has arrived.
The oblique questioning is lost on Reyce, who simply blinks at the question and faces forward again with his eyes slightly squinted in puzzlement. "Yeah," he answers, pulling the word out with a resurgence of slow wariness. He's sitting at a table near the hearth, a towel wrapped round his shoulders, talking to Kenathan who's at the table next to his. It's early morning and breakfast is fresh.
Rysia makes her way in with other early morning risers, though in this case, it's never-went-to-bed. Making her way towards the breakfast table, a mug of klah is poured, heavy with the sweetner. A roll of some sort is put on a plate, nothing else added, before she makes her way towards a table.
Kenathan hesitates, then stands up. "Excuse me." He takes his bowl back to the breakfast table and refills it...adding one of those rolls. He looks like he could use the seconds. And thirds.
Reyce grunts to acknowledge the departure, but he does not move from his own meal. Even withoug snarfing it the way Kenathan did his own, he's close to finishing it; nevertheless, he's taking his sweet time over the remainder. It's not as though it's uncomfortable sitting by the fire on a cold morning, really.
Rysia hesitates a moment, considering the various tables before heading towards one only slightly occupied, "Mind an extra body?" she asks after a moment, nodding towards an empty spot.
Kenathan is going to take a few moments to come back over...he's also getting more klah. And, thus, not paying any attention, yet, to the female joining Reyce.
Reyce hears the footsteps headed his way even before a voice crops up to go with him, yet while he turns his head slightly in Rysia's direction it's not until he's directly addressed that he actually looks up at her. He draws in a quick sniff, spying her, and allows the empty spot with a grunt as he shifts away to leave more room for her to take it. "Go ahead," he allows, though he doesn't bother to raise
Rysia offers a quick smile, and slides into the seat, before wrapping herself around the mug of hot drink, taking a sip of the almost too hot liquid, letting the sweetness curl her toes. "Aaaahh. Perfect."
Kenathan finally comes back over, returning to the seat he vacated, and his eyes flick over Rysia, with a bit of a smile. "Ma'am..." The default for women you don't know. Even if she does only have a resident's knot.
One of those quiet table moments with a stranger. If it's awkward, it doesn't register on Reyce's social radar; he simply emits a rumbling throat sound - it could be a response, albeit not a responsive one - as Rysia next to him declares the klah 'perfect,' and falls into stoic silence staring at the fire.
"Rysia..." the resident young woman corrects with a crooked grin before taking another, smaller sip, before pausing and tilting her head at Kenathan, "I don't be knowin' you, right?"
Kenathan shakes his head. "No, and I would definitely remember a face like yours." He quirks a bit of a grin at the girl. Oh dear. One of *those*.
That's enough to shake Reyce out of his absent reverie, if only slightly. His lip curls briefly, a cynical and much lesser version of Kenathan's grin, but he makes no comment. He does interrupt other comments, for a short while, by dragging his klah mug across the table towards himself with a loud scrape as the bottom of it passes over the table; the loud scrape ends abruptly once he's had his fill of the noise, and lifts it for a drink.
Rysia eyes Kenathan, or rather that grin, and shakes her head with a grin, "Flattery will get your everywhere. Or no-where, not quite sure at the moment."
Kenathan hrms a little bit. "Well, it's worth trying, just in case it's the former one." He quirks a bit of a grin at her again...shameless, right now. And then he remembers his all-important food.
The bottom of the mug tilts higher and higher as Reyce decides to drain it, setting it down when he's done with a much less invasive sound than he used in picking it up. "Got class," he mutters as he steps back from the table, taking the bowl and the mug with him to leave for cleaning staff on his way out to the bowl.