Useful things
Who: Rhodya and Jantha
When: Afternoon on day 13, month 1, turn 19 of Interval 10.
Where: Records Room, Fort Weyr
What: While lazily not-working on a bunch of letters, Rhodya meets Jantha, the new Weyrlingmaster. Their conversation is upbeat.
Rhodya's claimed an alcove for her work, and she's certainly got a lot of hides laying around, so at first glance she might actually seem, y'know, busy. She's not, though. Busy people don't spend their time rolling up little pieces of hide and staring absently at the wall in front of them. They also don't tend to tip their chair back, away from the desk, and spend what looks to be most of their energy on balancing it, which is what Rhodya's just started doing.
Jantha enters from the bowl, walking briskly. She spends a few moments looking round the room, particularly at the tapestries, before she picks herself an alcove - the one next to Rhodya's. She removes her jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair, then makes her way to a shelf, seeming confident enough in where she's going that it might appear that she already knows what she wants. She's soon returning with a large bound volume, somewhat dusty, which she lays on the table. The small thud thus created seems unnaturally loud in the quiet room, and she murmurs, "Sorry," to her neighbour Rhodya.
Rhodya looks over, blinking at the size of that book. Well, the thud doesn't make her flinch, so it must be the size that surprises her. "Ain't a problem," she assures Jantha, smiling. "A little noise never hurt anybody. 'Sides, I wasn't busy with anything, so you can hardly disturb me." Her chair wobbles, and she decides to put it back down on all four legs. It, too, goes with a thump.
"Careful!" Jantha says automatically, at that wobbly chair, then gives an apologetic smile. "That figures, I suppose. Don't think I've met you yet. I'm Jantha, brown Imoth's." And the Weyrlingmaster, her knots proclaim. "It's an impressive room you've got here - quite a collection."
Rhodya shoots the other woman an abashed grin. "Didn't mean to scare ya. Probably shouldn't be doing that in here anyway," she says, patting her chair. It will stay firmly down, until she forgets, anyway. "Nice to meet you, anyhow. I'm Rhodya. Can't claim any credit for this nice place, since I hardly come in or anything." Her eyes go from the face to the knot. "Oh! You're the new Weyrlingmaster? Jantha. Yeah, should've remembered the name."
"Probably not," Jantha chuckles as she turns towards the other woman, resting a hand on the chair-back. "It does tend to bring the wrath of recordskeepers down on you, if you break the chairs. To say nothing of bruises, you know. And yes, that's me. What's your line of work?"
Rhodya grimaces, patting the chair. "Don't want that," she says. "The folks who work here've been mighty helpful to me a couple of times. It'd be a sorry way to repay them." She twists in her chair so that her other shoulder, the one with the knot, is visible to Jantha. "Candidate right now. So I really should've recognized the name, huh?" She chuckles. "But by trade I'm a leatherworker. I'd be a cobbler only if I had my druthers, but what can you do? A weyr needs all kinds of work done."
"Well, that's a skill that would come in very useful if you were to Impress," Jantha says approvingly. "In fact, it might make you quite popular among the weyrlings, when they're all trying to learn how to get their stitches straight. Are you in the Craft?" She eases her weight from one foot to the other.
Rhodya tilts her head, thinking for a second. Then she grins, and knocks the wood on the desk. "Startin' to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing, me Impressing, but I don't want to jinx it." Why, she's even started whispering, lest some invisible jinx demons overhear the news about her change of heart. "Anyway. Yeah, I'm always happy to help folks out. I'm no official tanner, though - just learned the trade from my Papa, who is. There's things I balk at doing that don't make for a good apprentice," she admits, shrugging.
Jantha raises her eyebrows, curious. "I hope those things don't include cutting up dead beasts," she says lightly. "There's quite a bit of that, in the early days. But tanning /is/ a rather malodourous business, from what I recall? A shame that useful things always seem to have their down sides."
Rhodya wrinkles her nose up. "Can't say I'd love the gore, but nah, you got it on the second one. It's those vats that get me, the smell of 'em and all. My Papa used to tell me stories about things fallin' in there and coming out... well, you can guess. Put me right off the idea." She pauses to let the gross memories pass, then quirks up a grin. "Bit of vanity in it, too. I got nice hands," she holds them up, "and don't want dye on 'em."
"Eww!" Jantha says, grinning, with the merest glance at the raised hands. "I do see your point. And even I've heard tales of what goes in them. I'll gladly stick to stitching hide, not curing it." Her fingers curl round the chair-back, gaining a little support from it. "So, is this the first time you've Stood?"
Agreeing emphatically with that 'ew,' Rhodya widens her eyes and nods. "Exactly. And bein' a leatherworker, I get to do the same work, and skip the nastiness, so it's all right by me." She looks down at her hands, so nicely spared from the trials of working with tanning vats, and twists them together. "Actually, yeah. Kinda weird, ain't it?" Not that she'd know. Rhodya grins up at her anyway. "I've been in a weyr my whole life, and this is the first time I get Searched. 'Course, I wasn't in /this/ weyr, so maybe that's it."
"You grew up in a different Weyr? Which one?" Jantha pulls her chair out and turns it slightly so that she can sit and continue the conversation. Settling onto the seat, she tucks one foot under it and stretches the other out in front of her, rotating the ankle a couple of times before she rests the heel on the ground. After a brief appraising glance, she adds, "It's odd sometimes, who the search dragons choose and don't. Someone can be ignored by them one Search, and then a couple of turns later, the same place is Searched, and they're chosen."
"Igen," Rhodya answers promptly, not without a swell of pride. "Moved here about a turn ago, but yeah, I'm Igen-born and raised." She taps her arm, which is a light brown, though it's had plenty of time to lose its tan. "Still got the sun in me. You know, I'd heard that happening in other folks' cases - not getting Searched a few times, then suddenly they're in. Can't say I was expecting it, though. You figure in a weyr, if the dragons're missing you, it's 'cause you ain't the riding type. I s'pose it changed," she concludes, shrugging helplessly.
"Who knows?" Jantha responds with a resigned grin, and spreading her hands. "It's just like who Impresses and who doesn't: the dragons have their reasons, but they don't seem to be able to explain them. But they do seem to look for people who they can sense clearly, so maybe just getting older and stronger makes a difference."
Chuckling, Rhodya flexes an arm - showing her strength, you see - before giving the whole thing up. "So how 'bout you, then? All I know's you're not from Fort, and that you look like you come from a sunny place, yourself. You want to tell me anything about how you run a weyrling program, if you're a run 'em ragged type or what, I wouldn't mind hearing 'bout that, either," she adds with a wink.
"/Mentally/ stronger," Jantha chuckles, and leans back in her seat. "Though the other sort doesn't hurt. I'm from Southern Weyr - born and bred. And, yes, it's pretty sunny. And, yes, I'll run you ragged - but you'll know what you're doing by the time I've finished with you." And is there any trace of regret in her voice? There is not. "Reckon you're up to it?"
Raising her eyebrows at Jantha, and holding back a smile, Rhodya very pointedly knocks on her wood desk again. Can't forget about those jinxes. "If I was up to it, you wouldn't be running me ragged, then, would you? I reckon - if it happened, which it won't -" she casts a suspicious eye about, "I'd complain my butt off." She grins. "But I don't expect I'd /die/ from it."
"I don't /think/ I've had one die from overwork," Jantha replies; she's still smiling but it fades into seriousness. "Between, flaming, and Thread, yes. But hard work just makes you tougher. And talking of work..." She turns slightly towards the table and lays her hand on the thick volume that she placed there. "I'm looking over my predecessors' records, and I suppose I should get on with it. Good to meet you." WIth a smile, she turns to the desk.
With a nod, Rhodya lets her get back to work. She at least tries to focus on her own, again; whether she succeeds is hard to say, but she does refrain from any annoying habits (like rocking back on her chair) while Jantha's next to her, legitimately working. So the silence settles.
When: Afternoon on day 13, month 1, turn 19 of Interval 10.
Where: Records Room, Fort Weyr
What: While lazily not-working on a bunch of letters, Rhodya meets Jantha, the new Weyrlingmaster. Their conversation is upbeat.
Rhodya's claimed an alcove for her work, and she's certainly got a lot of hides laying around, so at first glance she might actually seem, y'know, busy. She's not, though. Busy people don't spend their time rolling up little pieces of hide and staring absently at the wall in front of them. They also don't tend to tip their chair back, away from the desk, and spend what looks to be most of their energy on balancing it, which is what Rhodya's just started doing.
Jantha enters from the bowl, walking briskly. She spends a few moments looking round the room, particularly at the tapestries, before she picks herself an alcove - the one next to Rhodya's. She removes her jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair, then makes her way to a shelf, seeming confident enough in where she's going that it might appear that she already knows what she wants. She's soon returning with a large bound volume, somewhat dusty, which she lays on the table. The small thud thus created seems unnaturally loud in the quiet room, and she murmurs, "Sorry," to her neighbour Rhodya.
Rhodya looks over, blinking at the size of that book. Well, the thud doesn't make her flinch, so it must be the size that surprises her. "Ain't a problem," she assures Jantha, smiling. "A little noise never hurt anybody. 'Sides, I wasn't busy with anything, so you can hardly disturb me." Her chair wobbles, and she decides to put it back down on all four legs. It, too, goes with a thump.
"Careful!" Jantha says automatically, at that wobbly chair, then gives an apologetic smile. "That figures, I suppose. Don't think I've met you yet. I'm Jantha, brown Imoth's." And the Weyrlingmaster, her knots proclaim. "It's an impressive room you've got here - quite a collection."
Rhodya shoots the other woman an abashed grin. "Didn't mean to scare ya. Probably shouldn't be doing that in here anyway," she says, patting her chair. It will stay firmly down, until she forgets, anyway. "Nice to meet you, anyhow. I'm Rhodya. Can't claim any credit for this nice place, since I hardly come in or anything." Her eyes go from the face to the knot. "Oh! You're the new Weyrlingmaster? Jantha. Yeah, should've remembered the name."
"Probably not," Jantha chuckles as she turns towards the other woman, resting a hand on the chair-back. "It does tend to bring the wrath of recordskeepers down on you, if you break the chairs. To say nothing of bruises, you know. And yes, that's me. What's your line of work?"
Rhodya grimaces, patting the chair. "Don't want that," she says. "The folks who work here've been mighty helpful to me a couple of times. It'd be a sorry way to repay them." She twists in her chair so that her other shoulder, the one with the knot, is visible to Jantha. "Candidate right now. So I really should've recognized the name, huh?" She chuckles. "But by trade I'm a leatherworker. I'd be a cobbler only if I had my druthers, but what can you do? A weyr needs all kinds of work done."
"Well, that's a skill that would come in very useful if you were to Impress," Jantha says approvingly. "In fact, it might make you quite popular among the weyrlings, when they're all trying to learn how to get their stitches straight. Are you in the Craft?" She eases her weight from one foot to the other.
Rhodya tilts her head, thinking for a second. Then she grins, and knocks the wood on the desk. "Startin' to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing, me Impressing, but I don't want to jinx it." Why, she's even started whispering, lest some invisible jinx demons overhear the news about her change of heart. "Anyway. Yeah, I'm always happy to help folks out. I'm no official tanner, though - just learned the trade from my Papa, who is. There's things I balk at doing that don't make for a good apprentice," she admits, shrugging.
Jantha raises her eyebrows, curious. "I hope those things don't include cutting up dead beasts," she says lightly. "There's quite a bit of that, in the early days. But tanning /is/ a rather malodourous business, from what I recall? A shame that useful things always seem to have their down sides."
Rhodya wrinkles her nose up. "Can't say I'd love the gore, but nah, you got it on the second one. It's those vats that get me, the smell of 'em and all. My Papa used to tell me stories about things fallin' in there and coming out... well, you can guess. Put me right off the idea." She pauses to let the gross memories pass, then quirks up a grin. "Bit of vanity in it, too. I got nice hands," she holds them up, "and don't want dye on 'em."
"Eww!" Jantha says, grinning, with the merest glance at the raised hands. "I do see your point. And even I've heard tales of what goes in them. I'll gladly stick to stitching hide, not curing it." Her fingers curl round the chair-back, gaining a little support from it. "So, is this the first time you've Stood?"
Agreeing emphatically with that 'ew,' Rhodya widens her eyes and nods. "Exactly. And bein' a leatherworker, I get to do the same work, and skip the nastiness, so it's all right by me." She looks down at her hands, so nicely spared from the trials of working with tanning vats, and twists them together. "Actually, yeah. Kinda weird, ain't it?" Not that she'd know. Rhodya grins up at her anyway. "I've been in a weyr my whole life, and this is the first time I get Searched. 'Course, I wasn't in /this/ weyr, so maybe that's it."
"You grew up in a different Weyr? Which one?" Jantha pulls her chair out and turns it slightly so that she can sit and continue the conversation. Settling onto the seat, she tucks one foot under it and stretches the other out in front of her, rotating the ankle a couple of times before she rests the heel on the ground. After a brief appraising glance, she adds, "It's odd sometimes, who the search dragons choose and don't. Someone can be ignored by them one Search, and then a couple of turns later, the same place is Searched, and they're chosen."
"Igen," Rhodya answers promptly, not without a swell of pride. "Moved here about a turn ago, but yeah, I'm Igen-born and raised." She taps her arm, which is a light brown, though it's had plenty of time to lose its tan. "Still got the sun in me. You know, I'd heard that happening in other folks' cases - not getting Searched a few times, then suddenly they're in. Can't say I was expecting it, though. You figure in a weyr, if the dragons're missing you, it's 'cause you ain't the riding type. I s'pose it changed," she concludes, shrugging helplessly.
"Who knows?" Jantha responds with a resigned grin, and spreading her hands. "It's just like who Impresses and who doesn't: the dragons have their reasons, but they don't seem to be able to explain them. But they do seem to look for people who they can sense clearly, so maybe just getting older and stronger makes a difference."
Chuckling, Rhodya flexes an arm - showing her strength, you see - before giving the whole thing up. "So how 'bout you, then? All I know's you're not from Fort, and that you look like you come from a sunny place, yourself. You want to tell me anything about how you run a weyrling program, if you're a run 'em ragged type or what, I wouldn't mind hearing 'bout that, either," she adds with a wink.
"/Mentally/ stronger," Jantha chuckles, and leans back in her seat. "Though the other sort doesn't hurt. I'm from Southern Weyr - born and bred. And, yes, it's pretty sunny. And, yes, I'll run you ragged - but you'll know what you're doing by the time I've finished with you." And is there any trace of regret in her voice? There is not. "Reckon you're up to it?"
Raising her eyebrows at Jantha, and holding back a smile, Rhodya very pointedly knocks on her wood desk again. Can't forget about those jinxes. "If I was up to it, you wouldn't be running me ragged, then, would you? I reckon - if it happened, which it won't -" she casts a suspicious eye about, "I'd complain my butt off." She grins. "But I don't expect I'd /die/ from it."
"I don't /think/ I've had one die from overwork," Jantha replies; she's still smiling but it fades into seriousness. "Between, flaming, and Thread, yes. But hard work just makes you tougher. And talking of work..." She turns slightly towards the table and lays her hand on the thick volume that she placed there. "I'm looking over my predecessors' records, and I suppose I should get on with it. Good to meet you." WIth a smile, she turns to the desk.
With a nod, Rhodya lets her get back to work. She at least tries to focus on her own, again; whether she succeeds is hard to say, but she does refrain from any annoying habits (like rocking back on her chair) while Jantha's next to her, legitimately working. So the silence settles.