Log: Post-Party Relaxing
Date: Day 26, Month 2, Turn 26 of Interval 10
Summary: After the party, Lina sneaks into the caverns to scavenge a little dinner, and enlightens Nathalia and Evali about clutches past and present.
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs)
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
Contents:
Nathalia
Scene Set
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
It had been a wild party, certainly not what the new smithcrafter had been expecting. Somewhere along the line the party had died and Nathalia had lost her guide to the Crafting Complex in the process. Rather than find herself horribly lost she had opted for a seat at the table where the drinks had been. "a shelling map would have been nice." She mutters sipping on a mug of klah.
Late-come to the party, Lina missed all the excitement -- much to the greenrider's chagrin. She's still managed to scrounge some food, which she brings over with something of a hobble to the nearest table - Nathalia's table. She gingerly lowers herself into a chair, stretching her bad leg out before her with a sigh, and remarks, "Some night, hm? Fourteen eggs-- can you believe it?"
Nathalia glances up at the woman as she settles into a chair. "Hardly, and a fourth queen to boot." She took a long sip from her mug. "I don't think I have ever seen so much excitement back at the Craft Hall." She studied the woman with a tired smile. "I am Nathalia, formerly of the Smith Hall until today."
"A fourth queen indeed." It's hard to tell if Lina looks pleased at the news, or merely overwhelmed. "Well met, Nathalia. I'm Lina-- Aryeth's. I'm on Meara's weyrlingmaster staff." The greenrider looks equally tired, and she raises her fork in mock-salute. "Dragonriders are prone to excitement, didn't you know? Are you newly-posted?"
"Well met Lina, sounds like your going to have your hands full this turn." The girl responded. She's worried about the odd number of queen's as well but doesn't voice it. Nat can't help but snort a laugh. "I was born in igen, but I spent most my life in the hall, so this was my first /real/ weyrfolk experience." She grinned. "Happy to report that I survived." Another sip of klah before she speaks again. "Yes, Just arrived today actually. The Smithing Master Crafter thought that this might be a better learning environment for me, and I think im beginning to understand why." She looks at the woman again, a smile on her lips. "What about you? How long have you been a rider?"
"Smith? An actual smith-- not studying star or jewelry or one of the subsets?" Lina looks a bit impressed at this, studying Nathalia over her fork as she indulges in a couple of bites. "Well, welcome to High Reaches; I hope you find it suites. I haven't been here more than a couple of turns, myself, but-- they're good people here. They mean well. I impressed Aryeth, what-- Faranth, nearly ten turns ago? At Benden."
Nathalia chuckles at the question. "You sound like the other apprentices back at the craft hall. I followed my father into the Smith Craft proper." The girl sips some more on her Klah as she listens. "Twenty years." It's Nat's turn to be impressed. "A long time to be in such a dangerous line of work, I have heard good things about Benden, their wines in particular." She smiled at the welcome. "To be honest the weather is terrible, and the people are . . . colorful. It is growing on me a little though."
"It's not a usual occupation for a girl, though I suppose-- you said you were weyrbred? That might explain it," Lina teases over another bite of dinner. "It seems like only yesterday-- hard to imagine twenty turns have gone by. Then again, it's hard to remember life before I had Aryeth, so--" With difficulty, the greenrider shifts to rest her bad leg atop her good one. "Colorful does about describe High Reaches; I think they compensate for the weather. Dangerous?" She seems to have missed that part, until a nudge from elsewhere brings it to the fore. "Whatever do you mean?"
Evali heads in from the inner caverns.
Evali has arrived.
"I was born at Igen, but I am a craft hall brat through and through. I was only a few month's old when my father and I left." She sighed. "I suppose its more of a papa's daughter kind of thing, I remember watching him work at the forge sometimes. The way the sparks flew up from the metal the sooty smell, I loved all of it. The Nurses always said I was more boy than girl anyway." She laughs. "well when thread falls you are the ones who fight it, not to mention the dangers of drills and there are accidents. True were at an interveral but still, I think it takes a lot of guts to become a rider. Am I wrong?"
"We have fought thread," Lina admits ruefully, with none of the bluster that most riders would admit. "During the Comet Pass, Aryeth and I flew with the Benden wings. It was-- well, we're glad it's over. I can't imagine fifty turns of that." An elegant shudder runs through the weyrlingmaster, which she banishes with a forceful smile and subject change. "But anyways-- talk like that has no place on a special day like today. So, Nathalia of the Smithcraft Hall, have you been to see the eggs yet?"
It's after the bulk of the party has died off; there are still people here and there enjoying last-minute drinks and polishing off the food, but the crowds are quite thin. Lina and Nathalia are at an otherwise empty table, where the greenrider is doing her best to catch up on a late dinner.
It isn't until the party /ends/ that Evali has the nerve to come out and see what all the fuss is about. Crowds are far beyond her; she moves hesitantly through the people who are left behind, and tentatively gets herself a glass of merely water. Her hair is down and shrouding her face, and she's got a fluffy winter hat on as well -- despite being indoors. The seat she picks is uncomfortably close to Nathalia and Lina for her own comfort, but then again, theirs is a conversation she can merely eavesdrop on instead of being forced to actually /participate/, and it counts as 'mingling.'
Nat frowned, sorry that she had brought up a sensitive topic. She laughed at mention of the eggs. "Yeah a caught a glance while trying to find my room a little while ago. This place is a lot more difficult to navigate than I thought it would be. First clutch I ever laid eyes on, and quite an interesting assortment." She glances up as another sits at the table. She offers a friendly smile "Hello"
"The Weyr /is/ big, no doubt about that. I'm sure it doesn't help that they're keeping all you crafters so far away from the rest of the caverns, mmm? So long as Iovniath is feeling relaxed, you're free to stop by at any time to watch them. I'm sure betting will start soon, on the thirteen eggs that aren't quite so obvious." Lina glances over at Evali, smiles curiously, then asks, "Any early thoughts? Either of you? I haven't been down to look, myself."
"I -- haven't seen." Evali only doesn't seem unsurprised to be spoken to because Evali's countenance is usually rather like a sheet of thin rock: steady and unmoving. "Yet. I intend to -- I hear there is a gold one?" She tilts her head a little, curiously, at the others. The people who may really know anything at all. "And that that doesn't always happen? Is it a good thing or a bad thing, because I have heard both and --" Tiny, awkward shrug.
Nathalia thought a moment about the eggs, about their shapes and colors, and what might be contained in them. "Do you mean as to the colors or what will come out of which egg?" she asked. "I would put marks on it that there's at least one Bronze, but as for the rest. . . If I had to guess I would say probably about three or four greens, Three to four blues, possibly more than one bronze, and a few that won't hatch."
"There's definitely a gold one; Aryeth heard that much. That leaves thirteen eggs up for grabs." At Evali's hesitation, Lina clarifies, "It's a Weyr tradition to bet on which eggs are going to hatch what color hatchling. When we've got candidate, the betting will include them too." The weyrlingmaster lets out a helpless laugh at Nathalia's estimates, waving her fork for emphasis. "Well of course there'll likely be one bronze. Probably a few more greens, though-- it's hard to say, Cadejoth does tend to throw more males than most. I'm sure they'll all hatch, though." She has a sharp look for Nathalia at that, and her voice is firm on this point. "Iovniath is known for being a good mother."
Evali sits up a little straighter, at the mention of them not hatching. "I didn't know that happened," she says, sounding even /more/ distant now. "The same way it does with humans. I have had many deliveries die and yet more always live. Being a good mother isn't -- it doesn't matter, with people, but I suppose with eggs --" She is so, so out of her depth.
Nat shrugged. "I didn't mean any offense by it, I am sure Iovniath is probably the picture of mother hood. I was going more off the weather and what I have heard other Weyr's hatchings to be. Then again, four queens. . . . I suppose High Reaches' dragons could just be abnormally fertile." She glanced at the thinner girl as she spoke. "No being a good mother doesn't seem to matter with people at all, not when you can just hand off a child to someone else." There's a bitter note there. "It's harder to tell with eggs." She averted the train of thought she'd been on. She glanced over at Lina. "That's right you guys will be even more crowded once search starts. Especially with the candidate barracks being occupied."
"Sometimes it happens to even the best of golds," Lina admits, somewhat reluctantly. "But it's more likely to happen with inexperienced mothers, or if there was a poor flight. As neither apply--" She sets her fork down with a clatter, pushing her still half-full plate away. "-- we'll just have to see. I'm sure the Weyrleaders have the issue with the barracks and the islanders well in-hand. They'll just have to move over to one side so we can bring in our candidates; it's not likely there'll be more than thirty, in any case. And there's time yet, and no reason the weyrbred ones can't stay living where they are."
/More/ people. This time, Evali visibly frowns. It is a rare expression on her, but it's definitely there. "Of course," she says with a tiny sigh -- also unusual, actually speaking aloud to strangers! "Is fourteen a lot or a small number?"
Nathalia nodded. "Then I guess I will amend my previous estimate to two Bronzes, three browns four blues and the rest greens." She considered Lina's words. "I imagine some of the islanders might be eligible to stand as well. From what I have seen of the Weyr women of this place though, I agree that they undoubtedly have the situation under control." She smiled at Evali's question. "Fourteen's actually pretty large for a clutch during an interveral. Though I think someone told me it wasn't as large as the last clutch? Or maybe I misheard them in all the noise."
"It's not so small for an interval; having four queens, when they're all young and healthy /is/ unusual. But not unheard-of. It's comforting, given how recently High Reaches only had one." But as much as Lina would like to stay, she braces herself against the table and reluctantly pushes to her feet.
"Thirteen in the last clutch, and twenty in the one before that," she offers, offhand, in between puffs of breath as she gets her cane underneath her. "I'd best go take a look at them now, before Aryeth twists herself in a knot with impatience. A please, Nathalia. And--?" she looks expectantly at Evali.
Cautiously, more than distantly this time, "Evali." She gives the weyrlingmaster a tiny hint of a smile. "I met the one. Rielsath. I liked her." She says nothing, otherwise; she is merely taking in what's around her. And as her water is gone, she, too, brings herself to her feet. "I should also -- get back -- to my brother."
"Nice meeting you both then," Nat answers.
"Lina," the weyrlingmaster offers, though her hands are a bit full to offer one to shake. "Aryeth's. A pleasure. If you'll excuse me--?"
"Certainly, of course," Evali replies politely, even if it wasn't addressed at her; she is going to return her glass, now, though she moves slowly, until those she was speaking to no longer have their eyes on her.
Summary: After the party, Lina sneaks into the caverns to scavenge a little dinner, and enlightens Nathalia and Evali about clutches past and present.
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs)
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
Contents:
Nathalia
Scene Set
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
It had been a wild party, certainly not what the new smithcrafter had been expecting. Somewhere along the line the party had died and Nathalia had lost her guide to the Crafting Complex in the process. Rather than find herself horribly lost she had opted for a seat at the table where the drinks had been. "a shelling map would have been nice." She mutters sipping on a mug of klah.
Late-come to the party, Lina missed all the excitement -- much to the greenrider's chagrin. She's still managed to scrounge some food, which she brings over with something of a hobble to the nearest table - Nathalia's table. She gingerly lowers herself into a chair, stretching her bad leg out before her with a sigh, and remarks, "Some night, hm? Fourteen eggs-- can you believe it?"
Nathalia glances up at the woman as she settles into a chair. "Hardly, and a fourth queen to boot." She took a long sip from her mug. "I don't think I have ever seen so much excitement back at the Craft Hall." She studied the woman with a tired smile. "I am Nathalia, formerly of the Smith Hall until today."
"A fourth queen indeed." It's hard to tell if Lina looks pleased at the news, or merely overwhelmed. "Well met, Nathalia. I'm Lina-- Aryeth's. I'm on Meara's weyrlingmaster staff." The greenrider looks equally tired, and she raises her fork in mock-salute. "Dragonriders are prone to excitement, didn't you know? Are you newly-posted?"
"Well met Lina, sounds like your going to have your hands full this turn." The girl responded. She's worried about the odd number of queen's as well but doesn't voice it. Nat can't help but snort a laugh. "I was born in igen, but I spent most my life in the hall, so this was my first /real/ weyrfolk experience." She grinned. "Happy to report that I survived." Another sip of klah before she speaks again. "Yes, Just arrived today actually. The Smithing Master Crafter thought that this might be a better learning environment for me, and I think im beginning to understand why." She looks at the woman again, a smile on her lips. "What about you? How long have you been a rider?"
"Smith? An actual smith-- not studying star or jewelry or one of the subsets?" Lina looks a bit impressed at this, studying Nathalia over her fork as she indulges in a couple of bites. "Well, welcome to High Reaches; I hope you find it suites. I haven't been here more than a couple of turns, myself, but-- they're good people here. They mean well. I impressed Aryeth, what-- Faranth, nearly ten turns ago? At Benden."
Nathalia chuckles at the question. "You sound like the other apprentices back at the craft hall. I followed my father into the Smith Craft proper." The girl sips some more on her Klah as she listens. "Twenty years." It's Nat's turn to be impressed. "A long time to be in such a dangerous line of work, I have heard good things about Benden, their wines in particular." She smiled at the welcome. "To be honest the weather is terrible, and the people are . . . colorful. It is growing on me a little though."
"It's not a usual occupation for a girl, though I suppose-- you said you were weyrbred? That might explain it," Lina teases over another bite of dinner. "It seems like only yesterday-- hard to imagine twenty turns have gone by. Then again, it's hard to remember life before I had Aryeth, so--" With difficulty, the greenrider shifts to rest her bad leg atop her good one. "Colorful does about describe High Reaches; I think they compensate for the weather. Dangerous?" She seems to have missed that part, until a nudge from elsewhere brings it to the fore. "Whatever do you mean?"
Evali heads in from the inner caverns.
Evali has arrived.
"I was born at Igen, but I am a craft hall brat through and through. I was only a few month's old when my father and I left." She sighed. "I suppose its more of a papa's daughter kind of thing, I remember watching him work at the forge sometimes. The way the sparks flew up from the metal the sooty smell, I loved all of it. The Nurses always said I was more boy than girl anyway." She laughs. "well when thread falls you are the ones who fight it, not to mention the dangers of drills and there are accidents. True were at an interveral but still, I think it takes a lot of guts to become a rider. Am I wrong?"
"We have fought thread," Lina admits ruefully, with none of the bluster that most riders would admit. "During the Comet Pass, Aryeth and I flew with the Benden wings. It was-- well, we're glad it's over. I can't imagine fifty turns of that." An elegant shudder runs through the weyrlingmaster, which she banishes with a forceful smile and subject change. "But anyways-- talk like that has no place on a special day like today. So, Nathalia of the Smithcraft Hall, have you been to see the eggs yet?"
It's after the bulk of the party has died off; there are still people here and there enjoying last-minute drinks and polishing off the food, but the crowds are quite thin. Lina and Nathalia are at an otherwise empty table, where the greenrider is doing her best to catch up on a late dinner.
It isn't until the party /ends/ that Evali has the nerve to come out and see what all the fuss is about. Crowds are far beyond her; she moves hesitantly through the people who are left behind, and tentatively gets herself a glass of merely water. Her hair is down and shrouding her face, and she's got a fluffy winter hat on as well -- despite being indoors. The seat she picks is uncomfortably close to Nathalia and Lina for her own comfort, but then again, theirs is a conversation she can merely eavesdrop on instead of being forced to actually /participate/, and it counts as 'mingling.'
Nat frowned, sorry that she had brought up a sensitive topic. She laughed at mention of the eggs. "Yeah a caught a glance while trying to find my room a little while ago. This place is a lot more difficult to navigate than I thought it would be. First clutch I ever laid eyes on, and quite an interesting assortment." She glances up as another sits at the table. She offers a friendly smile "Hello"
"The Weyr /is/ big, no doubt about that. I'm sure it doesn't help that they're keeping all you crafters so far away from the rest of the caverns, mmm? So long as Iovniath is feeling relaxed, you're free to stop by at any time to watch them. I'm sure betting will start soon, on the thirteen eggs that aren't quite so obvious." Lina glances over at Evali, smiles curiously, then asks, "Any early thoughts? Either of you? I haven't been down to look, myself."
"I -- haven't seen." Evali only doesn't seem unsurprised to be spoken to because Evali's countenance is usually rather like a sheet of thin rock: steady and unmoving. "Yet. I intend to -- I hear there is a gold one?" She tilts her head a little, curiously, at the others. The people who may really know anything at all. "And that that doesn't always happen? Is it a good thing or a bad thing, because I have heard both and --" Tiny, awkward shrug.
Nathalia thought a moment about the eggs, about their shapes and colors, and what might be contained in them. "Do you mean as to the colors or what will come out of which egg?" she asked. "I would put marks on it that there's at least one Bronze, but as for the rest. . . If I had to guess I would say probably about three or four greens, Three to four blues, possibly more than one bronze, and a few that won't hatch."
"There's definitely a gold one; Aryeth heard that much. That leaves thirteen eggs up for grabs." At Evali's hesitation, Lina clarifies, "It's a Weyr tradition to bet on which eggs are going to hatch what color hatchling. When we've got candidate, the betting will include them too." The weyrlingmaster lets out a helpless laugh at Nathalia's estimates, waving her fork for emphasis. "Well of course there'll likely be one bronze. Probably a few more greens, though-- it's hard to say, Cadejoth does tend to throw more males than most. I'm sure they'll all hatch, though." She has a sharp look for Nathalia at that, and her voice is firm on this point. "Iovniath is known for being a good mother."
Evali sits up a little straighter, at the mention of them not hatching. "I didn't know that happened," she says, sounding even /more/ distant now. "The same way it does with humans. I have had many deliveries die and yet more always live. Being a good mother isn't -- it doesn't matter, with people, but I suppose with eggs --" She is so, so out of her depth.
Nat shrugged. "I didn't mean any offense by it, I am sure Iovniath is probably the picture of mother hood. I was going more off the weather and what I have heard other Weyr's hatchings to be. Then again, four queens. . . . I suppose High Reaches' dragons could just be abnormally fertile." She glanced at the thinner girl as she spoke. "No being a good mother doesn't seem to matter with people at all, not when you can just hand off a child to someone else." There's a bitter note there. "It's harder to tell with eggs." She averted the train of thought she'd been on. She glanced over at Lina. "That's right you guys will be even more crowded once search starts. Especially with the candidate barracks being occupied."
"Sometimes it happens to even the best of golds," Lina admits, somewhat reluctantly. "But it's more likely to happen with inexperienced mothers, or if there was a poor flight. As neither apply--" She sets her fork down with a clatter, pushing her still half-full plate away. "-- we'll just have to see. I'm sure the Weyrleaders have the issue with the barracks and the islanders well in-hand. They'll just have to move over to one side so we can bring in our candidates; it's not likely there'll be more than thirty, in any case. And there's time yet, and no reason the weyrbred ones can't stay living where they are."
/More/ people. This time, Evali visibly frowns. It is a rare expression on her, but it's definitely there. "Of course," she says with a tiny sigh -- also unusual, actually speaking aloud to strangers! "Is fourteen a lot or a small number?"
Nathalia nodded. "Then I guess I will amend my previous estimate to two Bronzes, three browns four blues and the rest greens." She considered Lina's words. "I imagine some of the islanders might be eligible to stand as well. From what I have seen of the Weyr women of this place though, I agree that they undoubtedly have the situation under control." She smiled at Evali's question. "Fourteen's actually pretty large for a clutch during an interveral. Though I think someone told me it wasn't as large as the last clutch? Or maybe I misheard them in all the noise."
"It's not so small for an interval; having four queens, when they're all young and healthy /is/ unusual. But not unheard-of. It's comforting, given how recently High Reaches only had one." But as much as Lina would like to stay, she braces herself against the table and reluctantly pushes to her feet.
"Thirteen in the last clutch, and twenty in the one before that," she offers, offhand, in between puffs of breath as she gets her cane underneath her. "I'd best go take a look at them now, before Aryeth twists herself in a knot with impatience. A please, Nathalia. And--?" she looks expectantly at Evali.
Cautiously, more than distantly this time, "Evali." She gives the weyrlingmaster a tiny hint of a smile. "I met the one. Rielsath. I liked her." She says nothing, otherwise; she is merely taking in what's around her. And as her water is gone, she, too, brings herself to her feet. "I should also -- get back -- to my brother."
"Nice meeting you both then," Nat answers.
"Lina," the weyrlingmaster offers, though her hands are a bit full to offer one to shake. "Aryeth's. A pleasure. If you'll excuse me--?"
"Certainly, of course," Evali replies politely, even if it wasn't addressed at her; she is going to return her glass, now, though she moves slowly, until those she was speaking to no longer have their eyes on her.