Kai rescues the Weyrwoman
It is a spring morning of day 22, month 4, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Commons Cavern, Fort Weyr
While not nearly as large as the living cavern, the commons do serve something of a similar purpose as a gathering point for residents. There are a few scattered tables and chairs, with a section of counter carved from the native granite for general use. The typically cool floors are covered with a handful of rugs, while tapestries serve to blunt the chill emanating from the walls. Lighting is provided through glow baskets for the most part, although some individuals might bring in a lantern if they think to.
It's a fair bit quieter than the living cavern and is designed more as a location for residents to meet and work on whatever work needs to be done -- mending, cleaning, and tending to children are only a small sampling of the things that can be seen going on here. It's most active later in the day, after the bulk of the work is done and people start to settle in for the night, but it's never empty of people.
It also serves as a hub for a variety of useful caverns -- the nursery is located across from the residents' dorms, with the bathing cavern situated between the two. The candidates barracks are somewhat off to the side, closest to the tunnel that leads back out to the inner caverns.
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Workroom Resident Quarters Candidate Barracks Nursery
It's a quiet morning, given that many residents are still at breakfast, but Cirse has been corralled right here. An auntie has her backed up against the wall, telling some story or other that has a blank smile pasted on the Weyrwoman's face... and one that's started to get increasingly flat.
B'kaiv comes ambling out of one of the tunnels, still damp around the edges but otherwise ready for the day. He's heading across the commons for the workrooms, but pauses on spotting Cirse and her captor, his automatic nod-and-salute derailed after the nodding part, probably by the look on the Weyrwoman's face. He hesitates for a second before stepping up, calling, "Weyrwoman, can I talk t' you for a minute? --Oh, 'scuse me," because -of course- he just now caught sight of the auntie.
Cirse may not be the most expressive of women, but there's gratitude in the quick look sent B'kaiv's way, one soon veiled by a blink and a brighter version of that same smile to the auntie. "Excuse me," she repeats after him, with clear enough diction that it could be making fun if that weren't just the way she talks. "I'll be sure to let Shevena know. If we find the missing sheet, we'll have it brought to you, but I'm afraid we cannot just assign the nannies to latrine duty just like that. Good day." The auntie isn't in a hurry to leave, though, walking slowly enough after her own parting words that she might overhear what comes after Cirse's, "Now, B'kaiv?"
The woman's details are sketched in ink on a dusky canvas, framed by an oval face and tall, athletic lines: short hair worn in wooly, cloud-soft twists, thin brows that tend to be more severe than expressive, and the more distracting curl of lashes about arresting dark eyes. Her other features are regular as well, with pronounced cheekbones, a somewhat wide nose, and softer, rosier lips. The rhythm with which she carries herself holds more precision than improvisation, as though to a dance known a little too well.
She favors white, and wears it well against her smooth, dark skin. Today it's winter white, a finely knitted sweater with a flamboyant cowl neck over charcoal-and-black herringbone trousers. Black heeled boots accentuate her height, and large freshwater pearls dangle from her ears.
The greenrider greets the auntie with a quick if distracted smile and a polite-enough, "Hey," but most of his attention is on Cirse though he hangs back until the saga of the nanny and the sheet is completed. "Uh, yes ma'am." /Did/ he have something he wanted to speak with her about? Maybe, maybe not, but the moment of reckoning can still be delayed (and eavesdroppers bored) by an exchange of pleasantries: "How's Peirith? Don't remember - she like th' rain, or not?"
"She prefers a warmer rain than we have today, though not muggy. The mist we had at dawn was pleasant even so. And Chielyth? What does she prefer these days?" Cirse shifts away from the wall, the better to not get backed up against it again, though she also doesn't turn her back on the auntie entirely.
B'kaiv snorts, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Flying," is his succinct answer. "You know her. Don't care if it's rain or sun or snow, so long as she's out in it. Sleeping right now," he adds, like Cirse already knows this tidbit. "Think we might head down t' Boll later t'day, after we're done with drills. N'kan said as he wanted t' switch sweeps, though, so might do that instead."
"Does she mind whether it is sweeps instead of free flight? Or drills for that matter?" Cirse questions with every appearance of being able to continue to talk about weather and dragons indefinitely. It's enough to get the auntie shuffling off. "Peirith did like sweeps, we flew them as weyrlings, shadowing the full riders. It was hard to keep paying attention to what was on the ground, was the only thing."
B'kaiv says, "Nah," without even taking a moment to think about it. "Drills she gets t' fly with th' wing, and sweeps...." The other corner of his mouth lifts, the two sides taking turns. "We talk a lot. She likes going off with other dragons, too. Don't really care, long as she's using her wings." As the auntie moves away Kai keeps an eye on her; as soon as she's out of easy earshot the greenrider blows out his breath: safe! and gives Cirse a nod. "Nice talking t' you, ma'am. You think she's gonna come back, or you safe?"
Cirse says, "I can walk fast when I need to," Cirse replies for the issue of her safety, glancing away as though to calculate exit stratagems, if only briefly. "Thank you, B'kaiv. I will also say that I am glad that you two are back in one piece." She frowns slightly. "That is to say, two pieces, your piece and her piece, not two pieces each.""
B'kaiv might, perhaps, almost laugh - another single breath escapes, anyway, in an aspirated 'hah'. "Good t' /be/ back, ma'am. Monaco's pretty enough, but it ain't home." He stops, then, bemused, but is willing to let that lie, for he continues, "Ain't planning on needing t' get sent off again neither. Chielyth didn't like me getting sick."
"As well she shouldn't. There are other capable young men that do not have a dragon to see to. Yet if it is any consolation," Cirse says quite sincerely, "You also have some distance to go before you become decrepit and only suited for sitting with her in the sun," as though that projection would be likely to cheer him up. "Tell me, how is it with Mikhuth's rider gone?"
Eyebrows lowered in confusion, Kai opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, and only answers Cirse's last instead. "'S a'right, I guess. Different. N'kan's pretty good, only th' Weyrleader says as he don't want it. Th' knot," he adds, in case Cirse isn't up on that whole 'who leads a wing' thing. "We got a pool going on who's gonna get it. I'm thinking J'stan or Honari."
Whether or not Cirse needs the clarification, she nods in appreciation in any case, and hadn't seemed to register the confusion at all... which didn't mean that she didn't look at his teeth as long as his mouth was open. "Good luck with your winnings," she says now. "Also, with your wingleader, as that tends to last longer." She glances down the hallway as though she might depart, though stays a little longer after all. "It seems too early to purchase you a drink for your services, unfortunately. Although, that does mean there is more time to perform our tasks before the morrow."
B'kaiv's been brushing, hooray! "Thanks." She glances, he glances: still no eavesdropping auntie, even though the commons are slowly filling as people trickle back from breakfast. "Ain't never too early t' drink, ma'am. Usually wait until lunch, though. But. What do you mean, about there being more time?"
"Lunch, with something savory. Yes, I understand that. But I am paused by the thought of just past breakfast." Cirse looks briefly distant before focusing back in again. "If it were noon or later, I would have missed my meeting, you see, and then I would have to reschedule, which could affect Peirith's oiling, which..." she looks at B'kaiv's expression and stops.
B'kaiv's expression is quite a good one, really, part 'help I'm trapped with a crazy woman' and part 'I really wish to communicate but we share no common language'. He takes a stab at, "You got a meeting, ma'am?" because maybe that string will lead down the path and get them out of this scary forest.
Deciphering one emotion can be difficult enough, but two? Cirse herself looks briefly, inadvertently baffled before she fixes on the actual question. "I do. The smith will be presenting his idea for adjusting our shelving, and we shall determine whether it is practical. He has made a mockup but in the smaller scale, it may be difficult to determine the proportions as relates to convenience. It is a pity that more of us are not the same height. And you... oh, yes. Drills, you said."
"Well, that's, um." Definitely /um/. But Cirse's tossed him another bit of string, and Kai leaps upon it with slightly more than metaphorical gratitude. "Yes ma'am, drills. This afternoon. Think we're gonna be just working on th' basics so we got them down real good. N'kan's real good at doing th' basics."
"Good, that is good." Perhaps if they stick to repeating the same words, that will help? But certain things Cirse can pick up even without Peirith paying attention, and so now she intends to smile, though it comes out slightly sad. "I should not keep you. Again, good luck, B'kaiv. Again, my thanks."
"Yes ma'am," Kai says, which is a handy answer to pretty much everything. "You're welcome." He half-turns away but returns with an offer: "Maybe Chielyth and Peirith can go flying sometime. Or she likes t' sit with Elaruth." Chielyth, not Peirith. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind Peirith coming over."
Given her own bit of string, Cirse determines after a moment spent with the pronouns, "I do not believe she would care to go and sit, but as for going flying... yes, she would do that. Perhaps this evening, if your Chielyth is not too tired from Boll, and Peirith has had her oiling? Or, they can figure it out without us."
B'kaiv's half-smile is back, along with a sharp nod. "Yes, ma'am. I'll remind her t' ask." Straightening, he pulls off a fairly snappy salute and an, "Enjoy your meeting," that's not ironic at all before he heads off on his original path.
"Good day," wishes Cirse in return, and proceeds to that meeting... where she will in fact enjoy herself, diagrams and cost-benefit analyses and all.
Huh. Nice of her to say. Least, I think she were thanking me for the raider thing. Hard to tell. Wonder what the auntie were going on at her about.
Commons Cavern, Fort Weyr
While not nearly as large as the living cavern, the commons do serve something of a similar purpose as a gathering point for residents. There are a few scattered tables and chairs, with a section of counter carved from the native granite for general use. The typically cool floors are covered with a handful of rugs, while tapestries serve to blunt the chill emanating from the walls. Lighting is provided through glow baskets for the most part, although some individuals might bring in a lantern if they think to.
It's a fair bit quieter than the living cavern and is designed more as a location for residents to meet and work on whatever work needs to be done -- mending, cleaning, and tending to children are only a small sampling of the things that can be seen going on here. It's most active later in the day, after the bulk of the work is done and people start to settle in for the night, but it's never empty of people.
It also serves as a hub for a variety of useful caverns -- the nursery is located across from the residents' dorms, with the bathing cavern situated between the two. The candidates barracks are somewhat off to the side, closest to the tunnel that leads back out to the inner caverns.
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns Workroom Resident Quarters Candidate Barracks Nursery
It's a quiet morning, given that many residents are still at breakfast, but Cirse has been corralled right here. An auntie has her backed up against the wall, telling some story or other that has a blank smile pasted on the Weyrwoman's face... and one that's started to get increasingly flat.
B'kaiv comes ambling out of one of the tunnels, still damp around the edges but otherwise ready for the day. He's heading across the commons for the workrooms, but pauses on spotting Cirse and her captor, his automatic nod-and-salute derailed after the nodding part, probably by the look on the Weyrwoman's face. He hesitates for a second before stepping up, calling, "Weyrwoman, can I talk t' you for a minute? --Oh, 'scuse me," because -of course- he just now caught sight of the auntie.
Cirse may not be the most expressive of women, but there's gratitude in the quick look sent B'kaiv's way, one soon veiled by a blink and a brighter version of that same smile to the auntie. "Excuse me," she repeats after him, with clear enough diction that it could be making fun if that weren't just the way she talks. "I'll be sure to let Shevena know. If we find the missing sheet, we'll have it brought to you, but I'm afraid we cannot just assign the nannies to latrine duty just like that. Good day." The auntie isn't in a hurry to leave, though, walking slowly enough after her own parting words that she might overhear what comes after Cirse's, "Now, B'kaiv?"
The woman's details are sketched in ink on a dusky canvas, framed by an oval face and tall, athletic lines: short hair worn in wooly, cloud-soft twists, thin brows that tend to be more severe than expressive, and the more distracting curl of lashes about arresting dark eyes. Her other features are regular as well, with pronounced cheekbones, a somewhat wide nose, and softer, rosier lips. The rhythm with which she carries herself holds more precision than improvisation, as though to a dance known a little too well.
She favors white, and wears it well against her smooth, dark skin. Today it's winter white, a finely knitted sweater with a flamboyant cowl neck over charcoal-and-black herringbone trousers. Black heeled boots accentuate her height, and large freshwater pearls dangle from her ears.
The greenrider greets the auntie with a quick if distracted smile and a polite-enough, "Hey," but most of his attention is on Cirse though he hangs back until the saga of the nanny and the sheet is completed. "Uh, yes ma'am." /Did/ he have something he wanted to speak with her about? Maybe, maybe not, but the moment of reckoning can still be delayed (and eavesdroppers bored) by an exchange of pleasantries: "How's Peirith? Don't remember - she like th' rain, or not?"
"She prefers a warmer rain than we have today, though not muggy. The mist we had at dawn was pleasant even so. And Chielyth? What does she prefer these days?" Cirse shifts away from the wall, the better to not get backed up against it again, though she also doesn't turn her back on the auntie entirely.
B'kaiv snorts, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Flying," is his succinct answer. "You know her. Don't care if it's rain or sun or snow, so long as she's out in it. Sleeping right now," he adds, like Cirse already knows this tidbit. "Think we might head down t' Boll later t'day, after we're done with drills. N'kan said as he wanted t' switch sweeps, though, so might do that instead."
"Does she mind whether it is sweeps instead of free flight? Or drills for that matter?" Cirse questions with every appearance of being able to continue to talk about weather and dragons indefinitely. It's enough to get the auntie shuffling off. "Peirith did like sweeps, we flew them as weyrlings, shadowing the full riders. It was hard to keep paying attention to what was on the ground, was the only thing."
B'kaiv says, "Nah," without even taking a moment to think about it. "Drills she gets t' fly with th' wing, and sweeps...." The other corner of his mouth lifts, the two sides taking turns. "We talk a lot. She likes going off with other dragons, too. Don't really care, long as she's using her wings." As the auntie moves away Kai keeps an eye on her; as soon as she's out of easy earshot the greenrider blows out his breath: safe! and gives Cirse a nod. "Nice talking t' you, ma'am. You think she's gonna come back, or you safe?"
Cirse says, "I can walk fast when I need to," Cirse replies for the issue of her safety, glancing away as though to calculate exit stratagems, if only briefly. "Thank you, B'kaiv. I will also say that I am glad that you two are back in one piece." She frowns slightly. "That is to say, two pieces, your piece and her piece, not two pieces each.""
B'kaiv might, perhaps, almost laugh - another single breath escapes, anyway, in an aspirated 'hah'. "Good t' /be/ back, ma'am. Monaco's pretty enough, but it ain't home." He stops, then, bemused, but is willing to let that lie, for he continues, "Ain't planning on needing t' get sent off again neither. Chielyth didn't like me getting sick."
"As well she shouldn't. There are other capable young men that do not have a dragon to see to. Yet if it is any consolation," Cirse says quite sincerely, "You also have some distance to go before you become decrepit and only suited for sitting with her in the sun," as though that projection would be likely to cheer him up. "Tell me, how is it with Mikhuth's rider gone?"
Eyebrows lowered in confusion, Kai opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, and only answers Cirse's last instead. "'S a'right, I guess. Different. N'kan's pretty good, only th' Weyrleader says as he don't want it. Th' knot," he adds, in case Cirse isn't up on that whole 'who leads a wing' thing. "We got a pool going on who's gonna get it. I'm thinking J'stan or Honari."
Whether or not Cirse needs the clarification, she nods in appreciation in any case, and hadn't seemed to register the confusion at all... which didn't mean that she didn't look at his teeth as long as his mouth was open. "Good luck with your winnings," she says now. "Also, with your wingleader, as that tends to last longer." She glances down the hallway as though she might depart, though stays a little longer after all. "It seems too early to purchase you a drink for your services, unfortunately. Although, that does mean there is more time to perform our tasks before the morrow."
B'kaiv's been brushing, hooray! "Thanks." She glances, he glances: still no eavesdropping auntie, even though the commons are slowly filling as people trickle back from breakfast. "Ain't never too early t' drink, ma'am. Usually wait until lunch, though. But. What do you mean, about there being more time?"
"Lunch, with something savory. Yes, I understand that. But I am paused by the thought of just past breakfast." Cirse looks briefly distant before focusing back in again. "If it were noon or later, I would have missed my meeting, you see, and then I would have to reschedule, which could affect Peirith's oiling, which..." she looks at B'kaiv's expression and stops.
B'kaiv's expression is quite a good one, really, part 'help I'm trapped with a crazy woman' and part 'I really wish to communicate but we share no common language'. He takes a stab at, "You got a meeting, ma'am?" because maybe that string will lead down the path and get them out of this scary forest.
Deciphering one emotion can be difficult enough, but two? Cirse herself looks briefly, inadvertently baffled before she fixes on the actual question. "I do. The smith will be presenting his idea for adjusting our shelving, and we shall determine whether it is practical. He has made a mockup but in the smaller scale, it may be difficult to determine the proportions as relates to convenience. It is a pity that more of us are not the same height. And you... oh, yes. Drills, you said."
"Well, that's, um." Definitely /um/. But Cirse's tossed him another bit of string, and Kai leaps upon it with slightly more than metaphorical gratitude. "Yes ma'am, drills. This afternoon. Think we're gonna be just working on th' basics so we got them down real good. N'kan's real good at doing th' basics."
"Good, that is good." Perhaps if they stick to repeating the same words, that will help? But certain things Cirse can pick up even without Peirith paying attention, and so now she intends to smile, though it comes out slightly sad. "I should not keep you. Again, good luck, B'kaiv. Again, my thanks."
"Yes ma'am," Kai says, which is a handy answer to pretty much everything. "You're welcome." He half-turns away but returns with an offer: "Maybe Chielyth and Peirith can go flying sometime. Or she likes t' sit with Elaruth." Chielyth, not Peirith. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind Peirith coming over."
Given her own bit of string, Cirse determines after a moment spent with the pronouns, "I do not believe she would care to go and sit, but as for going flying... yes, she would do that. Perhaps this evening, if your Chielyth is not too tired from Boll, and Peirith has had her oiling? Or, they can figure it out without us."
B'kaiv's half-smile is back, along with a sharp nod. "Yes, ma'am. I'll remind her t' ask." Straightening, he pulls off a fairly snappy salute and an, "Enjoy your meeting," that's not ironic at all before he heads off on his original path.
"Good day," wishes Cirse in return, and proceeds to that meeting... where she will in fact enjoy herself, diagrams and cost-benefit analyses and all.
Huh. Nice of her to say. Least, I think she were thanking me for the raider thing. Hard to tell. Wonder what the auntie were going on at her about.