====September 16, 2013
====Hannah, Nora
====What starts as a chance encounter yields the weyr's latest, new project.

Who Hannah, Nora
What What starts as a chance encounter yields the weyr's latest, new project.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 18 days until the 12th pass.
Where Archive Library, Southern Weyr

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Archive Library
There's a skybroom tree in here. It's surprising. There is also a stage, and this room has been cleaned and tidied; it's an interesting space to be sure.
On the perch is Sunbird.
Nora is here.
Obvious exits:
War Room Hallway


-- On Pern --
It is midmorning
It is 8:35 AM where you are.
There is 1 turn 2 months and 18 days until the 12th pass.
It is Spring and 73 degrees. It is slightly overcast.




It's midmorning and off in the kitchens, the breakfast rush is turning into clean up. In the living caverns, the stragglers are having whatever meals they can make of what is left. Out in the bowl, the early drills are finishing up. And here in the library, one slim, pale, neatly put-together assistant-to-the-headman is sitting at a rickety old table with a blank page in front of her, deep in contemplation about the skybroom tree. And sometimes the stage. Her fingers tap at her page, and then Nora takes up a pen so that can tap at her lips. Thus far, no actual writing seems to be happening. Just thinking.

So much has been going on that Hannah has missed the building of a stage within this room, which is possibly why she halts when she first steps foot into the library with mug of klah in hand. Dressed in a sundress of deep plum, the material is light with thin sleeves and ends at her knees; perfect for a day of frying like pancakes on a griddle on those hot sands. Strappy sandals may not be the best choice of footwear, but it seems to be the choice of the day. "It's a sight isn't it?" Light, husky voice comes from behind while green eyes travel up the length of that skybroom tree. "I'm glad we were able to save it. Why is there a stage in our archives?" The non-sequitor is delivered with true confusion.

With Hannah's entrance, Nora turns to see who's arrived with a flick of her eyes, which narrow faintly as they get to the knee-height hem of that purple dress. Though considering the assistant headwoman is showing her own bit of leg between a white skirt and a pair of yellow heels, it's probably not scandal that fuels her expression. As for the lack of segue between yay-tree and buh-stage, it seems to make complete sense to her and she eyes the non-sequitor of a stage. "I believe it's Cerise's. That Renalde told her she could perform here." Her mouth pinches, which probably shares some of her thoughts on that. "I've been… thinking." And little else.

Returning Nora's narrowing of the eyes placidly, Hannah steps closer so that she's not lurking behind the headwoman, and cups her mug with both hands. "In here?" Pale brows draw inward as dubious expression is cast to the stage, but what she ends up saying comes out slowly, "I guess… it is a room big enough…" Though the tone leaves a lot of doubt expressed. "Thinking about?" The question is leading, complete with a side-eye glance from 'neath pale lashes to the assistant headwoman. Which is even followed by Hannah slowly taking a seat next to Nora and crossing her legs, patting the hem of her dress so that it falls decently. Pale hair remains unbound, tucked behind her ears.

"About this space. The tree getting water without making the books rot." Though Nora frowns a quick beat since what's been here hasn't necessarily fared well so far. "At least, not any new books," she amends, as the pen starts tapping her chin. "The light is nice, at least." She can say that much as her eyes drift upward to the holey ceiling. "We could glass that in, but then…" Obviously, then the rain wouldn't be pouring in from time to time. "Do we think there's room in there?" she asks, pointing the pen toward the war room. "For all the books?" It's going somewhere, this line of thought.

"Maybe we could commission sliding panels, although I would hate to stunt the tree's growth," Hannah adds in similar vein to Nora's musing. "that room is for all of the pertinent information for the current leadership. So that current events can be easily found…" Letting her voice trail off, she tears her eyes away from the siren's call of the tree's allure to glance around the library. "Obviously, it would be ideal to have the best of both, but that room," chin nod given towards the war room," is significantly smaller without much space for books, I'm afraid. The natural skylight with all this light as well as protecting these old records." She pauses, one fingernail tapping against the mug. "As much as can be protected now. These were all a casualty to what happened here before, but for our future records." Interested gaze once again settles on the assistant, an air of expectation held for the woman's line of thought.

Again, Nora's lashes narrow in thought. "And the council room couldn't do both? Then, books in there," the war room, with a tip of her head. "Or a good portion of them, at least. And this could be a more… flexible reading space, stage, maybe get a cart in here a few times a day with some klah and muffins." Though perhaps that could happen anyway. After all, the stage is happening. "Or, I suppose, we could turn the shelves into cabinets and hope for the best. I suppose that's the easiest solution: well-labeled cabinet doors." Now, though, the pale woman is given to staring at the ceiling, imagining whatever she imagines in place of the uneven crumbling of rock. "Maybe glass and some plumbing? To avoid flooding?" None of these options seem to satisfy her, though. Such a dilemma.

Listening in silence, Hannah considers Nora's words carefully before finally commenting, along with a little bounce of her foot. "I like the idea of cabinets. We could commission glass and wood and make them pretty, inviting." Still, eyes slant to the stage, frowning slightly. "A communal reading space…" Now the junior weyrwoman is tossing vague thoughts out, trying the sounds out as a thoughtful mien is cast to expression. "I like that. Although, I think that stage would need to serve as some other function when it's not being used as a stage." A stage is so one use oriented. "A food cart is a fabulous idea." Warmth suffuses husky voice as Hannah takes to this idea verily. "We could possibly just have all the books along the walls, they're certainly tall enough. If need be, we can take the frailest, oldest of records down to the drier storage rooms and convert it for use for the truely valuable stuff." Pleasure reading, clearly, is not included in the 'works of value'. "Plumbing…" Now, eyes trace back to the hole in the ceiling.

"Glass would be better," Nora agrees, turning her attention to the nearest of the decaying shelves. "Being able to see the contents, easier to find things. A lot more labor, though." But she could warm to the idea, as if anyone requires her to warm to anything. But as for the goldrider liking the idea of a communal reading space, the assistant flashes a smile back in her direction. "Like a studious indoor courtyard," a laugh light and wondering over the prospect, the vision of it slowly coming into clearer focus. "I think everything we've found here will need to be copied as best it can be and then stowed away. And maybe then, just shelving along the walls, with glass fronts." Yes, she is liking that idea. As well: "I like the light and the air, but I do worry that a solid storm will turn this room into a puddle. Especially if we even out the lip of that hole." This time her pen is pointing up decisively toward the natural skylight and some of the loose-looking bits about the edges. But maybe they only look loose. "The stage…" Well, she's open to ideas on that one. And this time the back end of the pen gets caught between her teeth. "Perhaps, when not a stage, it could be where the cart goes." Because, "I could use a muffin." Why is this not a thing already?

"I like that. Indoor courtyard," Hannah, too, is warming to this idea. Setting aside the mug to rest against the rickety table's top, the small junior hops off the chair and walks towards where the ceiling opens up to show the skies. "What about," now she's turning to give Nora a glance over her shoulder, "instead of trying to push against nature, we find a way to harness it. If we are truely turning this section into an indoor courtyard, we turn this whole area," she throws her arms out where she stands, bathed in morning light, "into something of a greenery. We could even leverage things for the weyr. Like a less-humid greenhouse. Grow some herbs and flowers, haul in dirt. Then, when it rains, we could get panels made to attach around the top of ruined ceiling to form something to direct the worst of a storm away from the weyr, but what rain falls in, could water the plants." An almost running commentary of thought, it's near enough to steam of consciousness that has the goldrider pausing, to consider the logistics. Laughter bubbles free, though, at Nora's comment. "I could use a muffin too," she concurs, making her way back over to the assistant. "We could leverage the Candidates to clean out one of the drier, less exposed deeper storage rooms to be the new dry archives." She pauses, frowns. "With a locked door."

Nora follows suit, leaving her empty page behind and slipping from her chair to follow Hannah's path toward the sunny patch of stone in the middle of the room. The pen is still with her, though, still twiddling away in restless fingers. And as the goldrider talks, the light comes the assistant's face as well, her expression brightening as the visualization of happy little flowers and fresh-smelling herbs appear before her eyes. "I love that. We could carve a bit of a garden-moat, let a ring of plants help catch run-off." She draws a line through the air, an arching path around the area that is most visibly stained by frequent water. And then her own laughter slips out, turning Nora to beam momentarily at her partner in brainstorming. "I want it now." The whole thing! But she has to wait, one step and a time, and so a deep breath settles her enthusiasm as her mind turns to old books and candidates. "If the ones who can write worth a damn could start on copying… I doubt many of these books could be handled much before they disintegrate." The following laugh is more private. "And here I was just saying that the crafting candidates would be better off continuing to craft." She shakes her head now. "I have so much work for them." Right here, says the gesture of both hands toward the space.

A moment shared between two partners in the crime of brainstorming, Hannah tilts her head back slightly to return Nora's smile with a bright one of her own. "I want it now too. Were it only that easy…" Impish delight sparkles in her eye, however, for a thought that comes forth: "Well, we can have the muffins now, at any rate, right?" Nora, the woman with the muffin-plan. Lacing her fingers behind her back, she once again stilts her head back to eye the skybroom tree, rocking a little on her heels. "It's good, then, that there will be so many of them," she murmurs, sharing a look of comaraderie with the assistant headwoman from 'neath pale lashes. "Although, this brings up something I might as well pass onto you." Now a touch of serious tone laces through the happy excitement of building: "One of the," a cold glint comes to green eyes when this single word denotes such displeasure, "Candidates," but Nora is not her quarry and so with attention returning to the tree, lips pressed together momentarily, she continues, "is not to touch these records, however, he also seems to thrive on controversy. Renalde, I believe, has ridden Dimitri hard lately and I would see that his childish tantrums go unheeded. If he fails to salute, or behave properly, then withdraw his privileges. Don't allow him access to the food provided by the weyr, but let him," oh how Hannah enjoys this part of a promise made, "not feel as if the leash is on very tight, if you understand my meaning." The letter is kept, if not the spirit. "If he would bite the hand that feeds, then let the hand no longer feed."

Muffins. Maybe Nora glances toward the hall, as if she can smell the last of the morning's muffins, dwindling away in a basket in the living cavern, allll the way from here. But! "Dimitri," she repeats, attention returning to the present and the firm expression Hannah wears. "Cerise's brother." One of these days she'll actually figure out who he is. There's a pinch of her mouth that might suggest she's had her own intentions regarding the candidate, though her brows are quick to lift as the goldrider explains her wishes. "So, make him think he's starving without actually allowing him to starve? If he doesn't tow the line." Not just for fun. "I can do that. Is there anything I should… know? Leverage to use?" It's so easy to assume, having not met him, that there actually exists leverage that could work with the unruly candidate. "Cerise appears not to have much trouble." Though there's fresh contemplation in her eyes as they turn toward the stage again. "Both of them candidates," she muses to herself.

"Cerise is a potential chess piece to use in getting Dimitri to heel, but he thrives on causing trouble and I believe he thrives on the receiving of punishment. I would say that we focus on positive reinforcement rather than negative, and see where that lands us," Hannah's lips thin once again, eyes focused more inward than outward as she stares up, up, up that skybroom tree. "So, as long as he tows the line, he can make use of our resources, but as soon as he stops." Well. In Soviet Southern, that means no food for you! "Surely, if his belly is empy and he's no access to drink, he'll become more pliant. If not…" Her voice drops, brows drawing in as a truly troubled expression comes to play. The thought is left unvoiced, but the junior is uneasy with the possibilities that simple, small statement carries. Thus far, it has not occurred to Hannah that this troubled young man may have access to her eggs. Onto brighter topics, the goldrider sheds the worries — casting her cares away, worries for another day — and returns her attention back to Nora, thoughtful. "Maybe, along with muffins, we could offer some other treats found only in here. To entice folks to come and enjoy this space."

Nora has little answer for these thoughts on Dimitri, but the wheels, they are definitely turning behind her eyes, leaving her focus distant and blind on some bit of empty floor while she spins away at whatever thoughts are going on in there. "Positive reinforcement. I'll see what I can do," she promises. "I have yet to actually meet him." But now when her eyes cut toward the exit, there's calculation in them, instead of wisting over muffins. Or, well, maybe the muffins aren't so far away. "Tea," she says, absolutely. "Perhaps bite-sized desserts or sandwiches? Or it could be a venue for experimental cooks to try new things." It does make one wonder if there are any hearths in here at all, not just for the potential of boiling water, but for warming a space that would be open to winter air. Now Nora looks around, hunting either the presence of a fireplace or a good spot for adding one, because it's clear she dreams big. "Everything would probably need to be wheeled in and out, though. Unless we set aside some kind of station for storing flatware. Still, there's no good way to wash here."

And so the boy's fate is left in better hands than hers. "Some problems are impossible to solve even with a charming little garden area," Hannah mourns, as there are no good, convenient places to put a sink. A fireplace could potentially be squeezed into some places, but more than likely the wide floor area could be used to house braziers — special, no spill braziers — once the miscellaneous shelving is taken care of and the books only fill the wall cabinets, that is. "I like the idea of a tea service and creative outlets for our cooks." Now her green gaze tracks to the room's exit, perhaps longing for the muffins that are surely but a memory of crumbs and deliciousness. "In addition to bite-sized pastries and muffins." A hand is placed against her belly, teeth nibbling the edge of her lower lip. The stage is eyed contemplatively, "Perhaps we could store such things beneath it." That stage is taking on many roles, though storage entirely depends on how high up it is and how much room lives beneath.

"Or behind it?" Nora considers, twisting on a heel to regard the stage again. "I have no idea what the final structure is supposed to look like. And with both our actors ready to stare down some eggs, who knows, really, if it will ever be completed. I don't suppose you've heard of any particular interest from our harpers," she hazards, since Hannah was surprised by the existence of the stage altogether. "I suppose our muffin cart is probably a while in coming, anyway." So for now, the poor women will have to resign themselves to visiting the living cavern for their pastries. "With your permission, I'd like to get some estimates for time and material, perhaps have some plans drawn up. Smiths, woodcrafters, gardeners…" So many people to see.

"Behind it could work…" Hannah lets her voice trail off, considering the stage thoughtfully. "I have no idea either, but perhaps there are harpers that could be interested…" However, the dubious cast to her voice gives more than enough hint that in this little endeavor, the junior is not in the know. "I'm sure, even if the pair of them don't act on that stage, we can find some use for it." Something. It will not go to waste. As for the pastries, such a sad given that they'll have to walk all the way to the living caverns for such delicacies. "Of course. Please do so, and do let Renalde know." He is after all, the Headman. "I'm sure, over time, the project will turn out beautifully." Turning back to the table, the junior swipes up her mug and fairly beams at Nora. "For now, I think I shall seek out some muffins while I am unchained from the sands for this little bit." All this talk and thought about such tasty morsels has the woman's stomach growling. "Care to join me?"

A sharp nod and, "Of course," Renalde will be kept up to speed. Which he will love, no doubt. "I'm not sure, sometimes, how well he's adjusting to having me as an assistant. But he'll learn to." She's confident, perhaps even fond, when she says such things. And if comparison springs to mind of someone speaking about a beloved pet whose training is coming along nicely, well, surely that's just in jest. But with this talk of more immediate muffins, Nora places a hand on the flat of her stomach, at the broad band of her decorative belt, even though it's the goldrider's stomach that grumbles. "Yes, please," she agrees. "Apparently I've worn off breakfast already." And so with the echoing clack of her heels on the floor, she strides back to the table to pick up her clipboard, and this time, as they turn toward the door, she is, in fact, jotting down some notes.

If Hannah is noticing any such attitudes towards Renalde, why, they are kept secret as any good female knows to do in this Nowtime Pern. All the goldrider vocalizes is a thought, "Mmmnn," and then, thinking of all the other men of the weyr, adds, "Won't they all learn?" in thoughtful undertone. Not just for Nora as an assistant, but for the general meddlesomeness of females getting work done. With brows lifting in shared conspiratorial look, the pair of them head out. Talking about many things, likely, pertaining to the newest project. Only after they're gone does a hush befall the archives, like the expectant arrest of indrawn breath.
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