Taking care of Isandre
It is a summer dusk, 19:26 of day 16, month 6, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Kitchen, Fort Weyr
Fort's kitchens are large, well-appointed and designed for efficiency. Granite counters, smoothed and polished through turns of use are tucked between the banks of stoves and ovens that share a wall with the living cavern's hearth. A swinging door at the end of the hearth area leads into the living cavern for easy set up and service of meals. Additional work space is available at half a dozen marble-topped, wooden islands that line up along the middle of the kitchen beneath hanging racks, bearing copper pots, pans and other equipment. Each island has drawers that hold smaller equipment like spoons, whisks and rolling pins. Supplies are kept on shelves along the walls or tucked into the islands, with bulkier items available in stores through another swinging door at the back of the kitchen. A row of utility sinks lines the wall alongside the door to stores for food prep and dishwashing.
The kitchen is busy almost all day, the only 'dead' time is typically between midnight and 4am when the bread bakers go on duty to bake the daily bread.
Obvious exits:
Living Cavern Stores
In the evening the kitchens are busy cleaning away the evening meal and starting to prepare tomorrow's; a few people stand idly by but most people are chopping, dicing, washing or scrubbing. There's a constant, low-grade cheerful din interrupted occasionally by a shout or a yell and even more infrequently by a brief lull. One of those who seems to have nothing to do is Kai: the greenrider lounges at an unused scrap of counter absently nibbling at a plate and keeping an eye on the room. Every so often he offers a bit of something up to Bitty on his shoulder, who accepts it with both grace and dignity.
With her shift finally over - extended due to a mishap involving two drunk riders, a runner, a couple of ovines, and a barrel - Isandre pads quietly into the kitchens, clearly intent on stealing a bit of dinner and some quiet. She's already secured a plate and filled it with what little was left from dinner before she realizes she's not the only one taking advantage of the relative quiet. Though she stiffens upon seeing B'kaiv, she never the less sets her face in a pleasant smile as she approaches the greenrider. "G'eve, B'kaiv."
"Hey," Kai agrees, pitching his voice a bit louder than usual to be heard over the chatter of a pair of boys at a nearby sink. "How come you're in here?" 'Here' with a nod around at the room which, while it might be less crowded than the living cavern, is still quite populated. "Or you just passing through t' th' nighthearth?" He's far less battered than when she saw him last, with only the faintest suggestion of a bruise lurking in the shadows around one eye. Bitty chirrups her own greeting, and earns another bit of meat for her manners.
"Hello, Bitty," Isandre offers politely to the green as she places her plate on the counter, settling herself in the corner, out of the way as best she can. "They already cleared out th' caverns, so I had t' come in here t' snag me food. I can head out, if ye prefer?" Not that she looks inclined to move as she carefully makes herself a sandwich of left over bread, meat, and tubers. Pale green eyes flicker over his face, noting the fading of his wounds, and no new ones to follow, but she mentions nothing of it, instead posing him a similar question: "Why be ye in here?"
Bitty tries another chirrup but there's no food at the end of it, only a brief caress. "Nah," the rider says with a shrug as Bitty clutches at his shirt. "I was carrying some things up from stores. For uh," he turns to search out (and subsequently nod at) one of the women on the other side of the room. "Taiaja, think her name is. You know her?" he asks of his new companion. "V'lor's uh... weyrmate, I think."
"No, I don't believe I do," Isandre replies as she places the top piece of bread on her sandwich, lifting it for a bite. Chew - swallow - and she sneaks a glance at the woman, finally shaking her head. "No, sorry," she finally murmurs. "But t'was sweet of ye to help her." With a wary glance at her companion, she turns her attention back to her food, picking idly at the sandwich, though she doesn't take another bite just yet. Finally, "I havena seen ye around of late. How... have ye been, B'kaiv?"
B'kaiv says, "She weren't gonna be able t' lift it herself. --Bitty, lay off. She ain't gonna feed you." The little green chirps again but sinks onto her haunches instead of launching hopefully at Isandre's meal, flips her wings and cocks her head hopefully instead. Feed the poor starving Bitty? "Been a'right," he continues with another shrug, this time one-sided so it doesn't disturb the firelizard. "Had t' close th' Den, drilling too sharding much, and Chielyth's gonna go up in th' next seven. You?"
"I doubt yer starvin', ye beggar," Isandre murmurs affectionately to the green - though she does pull a chunk of wherry from her sandwich, offering it to the firelizard. "Was still kind of ye," she points out, though she shrugs her plump shoulders, dismissing his deed to where it belongs, in the past. "I heard about th' Den - it's a shame, was a good place for people t' unwind. People need such things," she adds, shaking her head sadly. "I - " But whatever she was about to say, she cuts herself off with a wave of her hand. "Is she?" Green eyes flicker thoughtfully over the greenrider, though she doesn't pull away from him. "I take it she is not one of those who gets antsy with th' need, then?"
"She don't need it." Kai tries to wave off the offering even as Bitty attempts to snatch the bit out of Isandre's fingers. "She's been eating mine." Reminded, he picks up his own snack and breaks off a tiny piece for the green. "Whaddya mean, antsy? She's gonna stop sleeping in a couple days. She don't want t' miss nothing. Means I stay up with her too," he adds, like this is perfectly natural.
Clearly stung, Isandre withdraws her hand, piece intact, and lays the meat on her plate, pushing the whole thing away. "I see," she murmurs, staring idly at the sandwich as she folds her hands on the counter. "Well, I know nothin' 'bout dragons, just seen some o' the greens start t' get a bit antsy, an' their riders too, afore they rise." Shrugging, she allows her eyes to wander everywhere but towards the greenrider. "Well, I'm sure ye know best. If ye need somethin' t' help ye stay awake, I'm sure one of the other healers would be happy t' oblige."
B'kaiv grimaces. "It's near big as her head, Isandre." Not that it would stop Bitty from trying to eat it. "I-- shells." He turns his back to the counter and leans on it, runs his free hand back over his hair and scowls at an offensive cutting board. "What's got your straps in a twist this time?"
Studying the scrap, Isandre scowls. "It ain't that big, an' Spring'll take 'em in her paws and nibble 'em down." Shrugging her shoulders bad-temperedly, she lets out a breath on a long sigh and peers at him from under pale lashes. "This time." Her voice is bland. "Weren't aware my straps are often in a twist - but..." She trails off, before shrugging again with another sigh. "Keep waitin' for ye t' yell at me, I guess."
"Last time I seen you," he reminds her helpfully, without looking. "Now this time. You don't like me brawling... oh, 'scuse me. /Bullying/." He couldn't make the word any more sarcastic if he tried, "and now you're mad 'cause I don't want you giving Bitty thicktail. There anything I /can/ do right? Should get myself a couple fosters, maybe? Hand out sharding flowers t' everyone I see?"
Closing her eyes, Isandre takes a deep breath, lifting her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I wasn't going to gi - ah, shard it. Y'ain't the only one as can screw up royal, ye ken?" Reaching out with a balled fist, she makes as if to shove - gently - against his arm, eyes opening to narrowed slits. "I don't like no one brawlin' - that's how I am. Ye ain't the only one who felt my tongue over it. Just be nice if ye trusted me, sometimes, t' know a bit about what I'm about." Her eyes flicker, briefly, to the green, then down to her plate, miserable. "Mayhap I'm th' one as can't do nothin' right. Mayhap shoulda let 'em strip me."
Patiently the greenrider explains, "She eats too much, she gets thicktail." He scoops Bitty from his shoulder and lifts her to his eyes, waits until she's settled before telling her to go find Chielyth and tossing her into the air. She chirps again and pops *between* and Kai shakes his head after her with a rueful smile, though it fades when he looks at the healer again. "When ain't I? Shells, I don't argue when I come in for healing. All th' times I been stitched up, I ain't said boo t' you. So who's this making threats, huh?"
Absently pulling on her fingers, Isandre still refuses to look him in the face. "It's nothing, it's past, they didn't. I'm just - off, today, I guess. It's been a long'n, and it didn't end well." Because, you know, two drunk riders, et cetera. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, the healer finally lifts her gaze to the greenrider again, expression carefully set into pleasant, rather bland lines, though that tired misery still lurks in her eyes. "Let's try this again. G'eve, B'kaiv. How're ye? I'm sorry I came all over on ye th' other day. I had no right, an' I apologize."
B'kaiv merely watches and listens, his own face set into a suspicious scowl. His voice, however, is gruff and... sympathetic? "Shells, sounds like you could use a drink. I got th' whiskey back up t' my weyr - want me t' get it? Or you could come up," he adds in the same breath. As for her apology he waves it off looking uncomfortable. "Ain't nothing. I got plenty of people riding me about it. You can just join t' group."
"That ain't a group I like bein' in," Isandre mutters softly, eyes sliding away from his face again. "But - what's past is past. I'll try not t' judge ye so harsh next time." The offer of whiskey actually causes her to brighten a little, the faintest hint of yearning in her face as she glances side-long at him, considering. "I could use a drink," she admits, "though I'd not wish t' - hell, who'm I fooling. Right now, I'd inconvienence anyone if it meant a stiff shot. Which'd be easier for ye? Here or there?" If anything is an indication of how off she's feeling...
Kai snorts, not unamused, and slides another look her way. "Well, you ain't in th' group of them I'd just as soon hit as look at?" Turning, he's likewise reminded of his food and picks up the last slice of wherry, quickly folding it and popping it into his mouth. A little bit of chewing and he adds, muffled, "You coming up. Promise on Chielyth's shell ain't nothing gonna happen 'cept me giving you a drink. I been serving drinks long enough t' give a pretty good ear, if you want t' talk."
A blank look is offered to the greenrider at his words. "Uhm - okay, thank you," Isandre finally replies politely, clearly confused as to why he felt the need to offer the promise, but not dismissing it out of hand. "Glad t' know ye ain't in the market t' hit me, though, 'cause I'm not overly fond o' bein' beat on - but frankly, I'd say I'd owe ye a free shot." She does, however, wave that off with an added, "Not that I think ye would." Dismissing her own food - clearly, any appetite she did have has long since disappeared, she instead pushes away from her corner, tucking her hands in her pockets. "Ye might regret offerin' that ear," she adds, with a glimmer of tired amusement.
B'kaiv merely snorts and waves off even the possibility. "I don't hit no women. Girls, neither. You ain't bringing that?" He nods at her abandoned sandwich. "Gonna be hungry later." Even if she'd rather leave it he won't, but scoops it up to bring it with. Chielyth's waiting when they get out to the bowl, and makes short work of carrying the two up to her ledge.
She needs to do that more often. Flame T'kyn any road. That's what the Den were supposed to be for.
Kitchen, Fort Weyr
Fort's kitchens are large, well-appointed and designed for efficiency. Granite counters, smoothed and polished through turns of use are tucked between the banks of stoves and ovens that share a wall with the living cavern's hearth. A swinging door at the end of the hearth area leads into the living cavern for easy set up and service of meals. Additional work space is available at half a dozen marble-topped, wooden islands that line up along the middle of the kitchen beneath hanging racks, bearing copper pots, pans and other equipment. Each island has drawers that hold smaller equipment like spoons, whisks and rolling pins. Supplies are kept on shelves along the walls or tucked into the islands, with bulkier items available in stores through another swinging door at the back of the kitchen. A row of utility sinks lines the wall alongside the door to stores for food prep and dishwashing.
The kitchen is busy almost all day, the only 'dead' time is typically between midnight and 4am when the bread bakers go on duty to bake the daily bread.
Obvious exits:
Living Cavern Stores
In the evening the kitchens are busy cleaning away the evening meal and starting to prepare tomorrow's; a few people stand idly by but most people are chopping, dicing, washing or scrubbing. There's a constant, low-grade cheerful din interrupted occasionally by a shout or a yell and even more infrequently by a brief lull. One of those who seems to have nothing to do is Kai: the greenrider lounges at an unused scrap of counter absently nibbling at a plate and keeping an eye on the room. Every so often he offers a bit of something up to Bitty on his shoulder, who accepts it with both grace and dignity.
With her shift finally over - extended due to a mishap involving two drunk riders, a runner, a couple of ovines, and a barrel - Isandre pads quietly into the kitchens, clearly intent on stealing a bit of dinner and some quiet. She's already secured a plate and filled it with what little was left from dinner before she realizes she's not the only one taking advantage of the relative quiet. Though she stiffens upon seeing B'kaiv, she never the less sets her face in a pleasant smile as she approaches the greenrider. "G'eve, B'kaiv."
"Hey," Kai agrees, pitching his voice a bit louder than usual to be heard over the chatter of a pair of boys at a nearby sink. "How come you're in here?" 'Here' with a nod around at the room which, while it might be less crowded than the living cavern, is still quite populated. "Or you just passing through t' th' nighthearth?" He's far less battered than when she saw him last, with only the faintest suggestion of a bruise lurking in the shadows around one eye. Bitty chirrups her own greeting, and earns another bit of meat for her manners.
"Hello, Bitty," Isandre offers politely to the green as she places her plate on the counter, settling herself in the corner, out of the way as best she can. "They already cleared out th' caverns, so I had t' come in here t' snag me food. I can head out, if ye prefer?" Not that she looks inclined to move as she carefully makes herself a sandwich of left over bread, meat, and tubers. Pale green eyes flicker over his face, noting the fading of his wounds, and no new ones to follow, but she mentions nothing of it, instead posing him a similar question: "Why be ye in here?"
Bitty tries another chirrup but there's no food at the end of it, only a brief caress. "Nah," the rider says with a shrug as Bitty clutches at his shirt. "I was carrying some things up from stores. For uh," he turns to search out (and subsequently nod at) one of the women on the other side of the room. "Taiaja, think her name is. You know her?" he asks of his new companion. "V'lor's uh... weyrmate, I think."
"No, I don't believe I do," Isandre replies as she places the top piece of bread on her sandwich, lifting it for a bite. Chew - swallow - and she sneaks a glance at the woman, finally shaking her head. "No, sorry," she finally murmurs. "But t'was sweet of ye to help her." With a wary glance at her companion, she turns her attention back to her food, picking idly at the sandwich, though she doesn't take another bite just yet. Finally, "I havena seen ye around of late. How... have ye been, B'kaiv?"
B'kaiv says, "She weren't gonna be able t' lift it herself. --Bitty, lay off. She ain't gonna feed you." The little green chirps again but sinks onto her haunches instead of launching hopefully at Isandre's meal, flips her wings and cocks her head hopefully instead. Feed the poor starving Bitty? "Been a'right," he continues with another shrug, this time one-sided so it doesn't disturb the firelizard. "Had t' close th' Den, drilling too sharding much, and Chielyth's gonna go up in th' next seven. You?"
"I doubt yer starvin', ye beggar," Isandre murmurs affectionately to the green - though she does pull a chunk of wherry from her sandwich, offering it to the firelizard. "Was still kind of ye," she points out, though she shrugs her plump shoulders, dismissing his deed to where it belongs, in the past. "I heard about th' Den - it's a shame, was a good place for people t' unwind. People need such things," she adds, shaking her head sadly. "I - " But whatever she was about to say, she cuts herself off with a wave of her hand. "Is she?" Green eyes flicker thoughtfully over the greenrider, though she doesn't pull away from him. "I take it she is not one of those who gets antsy with th' need, then?"
"She don't need it." Kai tries to wave off the offering even as Bitty attempts to snatch the bit out of Isandre's fingers. "She's been eating mine." Reminded, he picks up his own snack and breaks off a tiny piece for the green. "Whaddya mean, antsy? She's gonna stop sleeping in a couple days. She don't want t' miss nothing. Means I stay up with her too," he adds, like this is perfectly natural.
Clearly stung, Isandre withdraws her hand, piece intact, and lays the meat on her plate, pushing the whole thing away. "I see," she murmurs, staring idly at the sandwich as she folds her hands on the counter. "Well, I know nothin' 'bout dragons, just seen some o' the greens start t' get a bit antsy, an' their riders too, afore they rise." Shrugging, she allows her eyes to wander everywhere but towards the greenrider. "Well, I'm sure ye know best. If ye need somethin' t' help ye stay awake, I'm sure one of the other healers would be happy t' oblige."
B'kaiv grimaces. "It's near big as her head, Isandre." Not that it would stop Bitty from trying to eat it. "I-- shells." He turns his back to the counter and leans on it, runs his free hand back over his hair and scowls at an offensive cutting board. "What's got your straps in a twist this time?"
Studying the scrap, Isandre scowls. "It ain't that big, an' Spring'll take 'em in her paws and nibble 'em down." Shrugging her shoulders bad-temperedly, she lets out a breath on a long sigh and peers at him from under pale lashes. "This time." Her voice is bland. "Weren't aware my straps are often in a twist - but..." She trails off, before shrugging again with another sigh. "Keep waitin' for ye t' yell at me, I guess."
"Last time I seen you," he reminds her helpfully, without looking. "Now this time. You don't like me brawling... oh, 'scuse me. /Bullying/." He couldn't make the word any more sarcastic if he tried, "and now you're mad 'cause I don't want you giving Bitty thicktail. There anything I /can/ do right? Should get myself a couple fosters, maybe? Hand out sharding flowers t' everyone I see?"
Closing her eyes, Isandre takes a deep breath, lifting her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I wasn't going to gi - ah, shard it. Y'ain't the only one as can screw up royal, ye ken?" Reaching out with a balled fist, she makes as if to shove - gently - against his arm, eyes opening to narrowed slits. "I don't like no one brawlin' - that's how I am. Ye ain't the only one who felt my tongue over it. Just be nice if ye trusted me, sometimes, t' know a bit about what I'm about." Her eyes flicker, briefly, to the green, then down to her plate, miserable. "Mayhap I'm th' one as can't do nothin' right. Mayhap shoulda let 'em strip me."
Patiently the greenrider explains, "She eats too much, she gets thicktail." He scoops Bitty from his shoulder and lifts her to his eyes, waits until she's settled before telling her to go find Chielyth and tossing her into the air. She chirps again and pops *between* and Kai shakes his head after her with a rueful smile, though it fades when he looks at the healer again. "When ain't I? Shells, I don't argue when I come in for healing. All th' times I been stitched up, I ain't said boo t' you. So who's this making threats, huh?"
Absently pulling on her fingers, Isandre still refuses to look him in the face. "It's nothing, it's past, they didn't. I'm just - off, today, I guess. It's been a long'n, and it didn't end well." Because, you know, two drunk riders, et cetera. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, the healer finally lifts her gaze to the greenrider again, expression carefully set into pleasant, rather bland lines, though that tired misery still lurks in her eyes. "Let's try this again. G'eve, B'kaiv. How're ye? I'm sorry I came all over on ye th' other day. I had no right, an' I apologize."
B'kaiv merely watches and listens, his own face set into a suspicious scowl. His voice, however, is gruff and... sympathetic? "Shells, sounds like you could use a drink. I got th' whiskey back up t' my weyr - want me t' get it? Or you could come up," he adds in the same breath. As for her apology he waves it off looking uncomfortable. "Ain't nothing. I got plenty of people riding me about it. You can just join t' group."
"That ain't a group I like bein' in," Isandre mutters softly, eyes sliding away from his face again. "But - what's past is past. I'll try not t' judge ye so harsh next time." The offer of whiskey actually causes her to brighten a little, the faintest hint of yearning in her face as she glances side-long at him, considering. "I could use a drink," she admits, "though I'd not wish t' - hell, who'm I fooling. Right now, I'd inconvienence anyone if it meant a stiff shot. Which'd be easier for ye? Here or there?" If anything is an indication of how off she's feeling...
Kai snorts, not unamused, and slides another look her way. "Well, you ain't in th' group of them I'd just as soon hit as look at?" Turning, he's likewise reminded of his food and picks up the last slice of wherry, quickly folding it and popping it into his mouth. A little bit of chewing and he adds, muffled, "You coming up. Promise on Chielyth's shell ain't nothing gonna happen 'cept me giving you a drink. I been serving drinks long enough t' give a pretty good ear, if you want t' talk."
A blank look is offered to the greenrider at his words. "Uhm - okay, thank you," Isandre finally replies politely, clearly confused as to why he felt the need to offer the promise, but not dismissing it out of hand. "Glad t' know ye ain't in the market t' hit me, though, 'cause I'm not overly fond o' bein' beat on - but frankly, I'd say I'd owe ye a free shot." She does, however, wave that off with an added, "Not that I think ye would." Dismissing her own food - clearly, any appetite she did have has long since disappeared, she instead pushes away from her corner, tucking her hands in her pockets. "Ye might regret offerin' that ear," she adds, with a glimmer of tired amusement.
B'kaiv merely snorts and waves off even the possibility. "I don't hit no women. Girls, neither. You ain't bringing that?" He nods at her abandoned sandwich. "Gonna be hungry later." Even if she'd rather leave it he won't, but scoops it up to bring it with. Chielyth's waiting when they get out to the bowl, and makes short work of carrying the two up to her ledge.
She needs to do that more often. Flame T'kyn any road. That's what the Den were supposed to be for.