Smell Bad!
Location: Stores
Time: Late evening on Day 18, Month 12, Turn 1
Players: Rysia and Roa
Scene: Rysia can't smell and Roa is nosey.
Stores
Upon entering this immense cavern, the nose is assaulted with a miasma of scents-- spices and old hides and stored clothing and dry goods and an older musty smell that is likely linked to dust and the inevitable decay that strikes any storage cavern. While the Weyr does follow a strict organizational system that ensures that like is stored with or near like, it's still possible to lose one's self here without a solid knowledge of the shelves' layout. These shelves are impressive, too. They rise from floor to shadowed ceiling, wall to distant wall, separated by wide aisles that hold carts and ladders for the fetching and transportation of required goods. Two tunnels exit this cavern. The first is a short tunnel that leads to the upper caverns. The second, much longer, takes a person directly to the kitchens.
There are rumours that a strange smell eminates from the storerooms. This is very possibly true. However, that is not the purpose for Rysia's visit into the musty cavern - nor would she be able to tell, even if it where. By the sounds of various sniffles, as the weaver girl makes towards the section with the blankets and such, winter's struck again, and someone has a nasty headcold.
Winter? What's that? Next to walk into the stores is a recently missing caucus student, now returned with bronzed skin, sunburned cheeks, and an armful of various pieces of clothing and blankets and such. Roa stops a few steps in, nose wrinkling and eyes widening as the pungent aroma assails her nostrils. "Shells," she gasps to no one specific, "What happened in here?"
Rysia looks up at the voice, given the strange tone it gains in the room, before calling out, voice oddly flat, "What are ya meanin'?" as she puts away the blankets for the when they might be next needed.
The goldrider walks further into the stores and towards the voice. Her bundle is set on the floor and blankets are returned to the same area Rysia just selected from. In other circumstances, Roa would probably be more polite, say hello and ask how things have been since she's been gone. As it is however, the girl just says in that strained tone one gets when one tries to breathe through one’s mouth, "The *smell*. What created that awful smell?"
Rysia turns to face the rider, and blinks once - the tan, or the question, it is anyone's guess. "Can't smell a'thin'. 'Bout the only thing good with this shardin' headcold. That's prolly why I got sent though, now that I'm thinkin' 'bout it... What's it smell like?" she asks after a moment, before going back to putting blankets away, including Roa's, unless there is a motion to stop the girl.
"It.." Roa pauses to cough, "it smells like something's gone rotten. Or something's died. Maybe somebody skewered a tunnelsnake and left it?" As Rysia begins to put away Roa's blankets, the girl hurries down a few more rows to quickly return her other items. "Never envied a headcold before..."
Rysia's nose - big and red - probably isn't envying itself, "Great. Wonder who's the dunderhead who's done that..." There's a pause, then she adds with a bit of a crooked grin, hands making fast work - if somewhat spillingly work - of the blankets and such, "Wanna trade?"
"In all honesty, I'm tempted." Roa's voice has gone decidedly nasal, and her reappearance reveals why: finger and thumb have pinched her nostrils shut. "How've you been Rysia?" She's quiet a moment and then braves, "How's K'sar?"
"Sick as a babe - and always busy, it seems.." is the weaver girl's response to both questions, looking a bit morse at both answers, before shaking her head, "Better now, though. I can actually breathe, which helps."
Roa's lips quirk upwards a little at both replies. "I hope you feel better and that is workload lightens, then. Things have been...I...I'm sorry to be rude...things have been well between the two of you?"
Rysia fishes out a hankerchief, and makes a bit of noise - more necessary by nature, then feeling, before lifting a shoulder, "He is glad to see me, but he rarely sees me, if that makes any sense. I don't be thinkin' he's usually happy though, so... I dunno."
Roa's eyes, previously flitting down to her toes, slip up to Rysia. She asks softly, nasally since her grip on her nose remains, "Is he drinking?"
Rysia stills for a moment, her eyes focused on the cloth in her hands, then both shoulders lift up, "Sometimes. Not much, if I'm around." Of course, if she has any sense, it's because she's left.
The goldrider's lips thin and she sighs softly. "K'sar's a good man but..." Roa bites her lower lip for a moment before blurting out, "Please be careful." Then, quite suddenly, "I'm going to try and find where this smell's coming from." With a visible wince, she drops her hand from her nose and takes a tentative sniff.
Quietly, "He told me, first off, to avoid him if he was deep in his cups..." Rys points out, leaving it at that, before nodding and stepping away from the shelf, "If it's somethin' rottin', it can turn the whole pile of whatever bad."
There is intermittant sniffing, coughing, and a little gagging at certain points, but after a few minutes Roa returns with watering eyes and a shake of her head. "There are a few messes where folks pushed things around and made some sort of clutter, but nothing I could find to make that sort of smell. I think, however, I need to get out of here before I'm ill." With a small, apologetic smile, the goldrider rushes out from the stores.
Time: Late evening on Day 18, Month 12, Turn 1
Players: Rysia and Roa
Scene: Rysia can't smell and Roa is nosey.
Stores
Upon entering this immense cavern, the nose is assaulted with a miasma of scents-- spices and old hides and stored clothing and dry goods and an older musty smell that is likely linked to dust and the inevitable decay that strikes any storage cavern. While the Weyr does follow a strict organizational system that ensures that like is stored with or near like, it's still possible to lose one's self here without a solid knowledge of the shelves' layout. These shelves are impressive, too. They rise from floor to shadowed ceiling, wall to distant wall, separated by wide aisles that hold carts and ladders for the fetching and transportation of required goods. Two tunnels exit this cavern. The first is a short tunnel that leads to the upper caverns. The second, much longer, takes a person directly to the kitchens.
There are rumours that a strange smell eminates from the storerooms. This is very possibly true. However, that is not the purpose for Rysia's visit into the musty cavern - nor would she be able to tell, even if it where. By the sounds of various sniffles, as the weaver girl makes towards the section with the blankets and such, winter's struck again, and someone has a nasty headcold.
Winter? What's that? Next to walk into the stores is a recently missing caucus student, now returned with bronzed skin, sunburned cheeks, and an armful of various pieces of clothing and blankets and such. Roa stops a few steps in, nose wrinkling and eyes widening as the pungent aroma assails her nostrils. "Shells," she gasps to no one specific, "What happened in here?"
Rysia looks up at the voice, given the strange tone it gains in the room, before calling out, voice oddly flat, "What are ya meanin'?" as she puts away the blankets for the when they might be next needed.
The goldrider walks further into the stores and towards the voice. Her bundle is set on the floor and blankets are returned to the same area Rysia just selected from. In other circumstances, Roa would probably be more polite, say hello and ask how things have been since she's been gone. As it is however, the girl just says in that strained tone one gets when one tries to breathe through one’s mouth, "The *smell*. What created that awful smell?"
Rysia turns to face the rider, and blinks once - the tan, or the question, it is anyone's guess. "Can't smell a'thin'. 'Bout the only thing good with this shardin' headcold. That's prolly why I got sent though, now that I'm thinkin' 'bout it... What's it smell like?" she asks after a moment, before going back to putting blankets away, including Roa's, unless there is a motion to stop the girl.
"It.." Roa pauses to cough, "it smells like something's gone rotten. Or something's died. Maybe somebody skewered a tunnelsnake and left it?" As Rysia begins to put away Roa's blankets, the girl hurries down a few more rows to quickly return her other items. "Never envied a headcold before..."
Rysia's nose - big and red - probably isn't envying itself, "Great. Wonder who's the dunderhead who's done that..." There's a pause, then she adds with a bit of a crooked grin, hands making fast work - if somewhat spillingly work - of the blankets and such, "Wanna trade?"
"In all honesty, I'm tempted." Roa's voice has gone decidedly nasal, and her reappearance reveals why: finger and thumb have pinched her nostrils shut. "How've you been Rysia?" She's quiet a moment and then braves, "How's K'sar?"
"Sick as a babe - and always busy, it seems.." is the weaver girl's response to both questions, looking a bit morse at both answers, before shaking her head, "Better now, though. I can actually breathe, which helps."
Roa's lips quirk upwards a little at both replies. "I hope you feel better and that is workload lightens, then. Things have been...I...I'm sorry to be rude...things have been well between the two of you?"
Rysia fishes out a hankerchief, and makes a bit of noise - more necessary by nature, then feeling, before lifting a shoulder, "He is glad to see me, but he rarely sees me, if that makes any sense. I don't be thinkin' he's usually happy though, so... I dunno."
Roa's eyes, previously flitting down to her toes, slip up to Rysia. She asks softly, nasally since her grip on her nose remains, "Is he drinking?"
Rysia stills for a moment, her eyes focused on the cloth in her hands, then both shoulders lift up, "Sometimes. Not much, if I'm around." Of course, if she has any sense, it's because she's left.
The goldrider's lips thin and she sighs softly. "K'sar's a good man but..." Roa bites her lower lip for a moment before blurting out, "Please be careful." Then, quite suddenly, "I'm going to try and find where this smell's coming from." With a visible wince, she drops her hand from her nose and takes a tentative sniff.
Quietly, "He told me, first off, to avoid him if he was deep in his cups..." Rys points out, leaving it at that, before nodding and stepping away from the shelf, "If it's somethin' rottin', it can turn the whole pile of whatever bad."
There is intermittant sniffing, coughing, and a little gagging at certain points, but after a few minutes Roa returns with watering eyes and a shake of her head. "There are a few messes where folks pushed things around and made some sort of clutter, but nothing I could find to make that sort of smell. I think, however, I need to get out of here before I'm ill." With a small, apologetic smile, the goldrider rushes out from the stores.