==== October 3rd 2013
==== W'rin, Irelynn
==== Irelynn meets the Weyrleader. He tries to be sociable, she tries to be brave. Neither work out very well.

Who W'rin, Irelynn
What Irelynn meets the Weyrleader. He tries to be sociable, she tries to be brave. Neither work out very well.
When There is 1 turn 0 months and 21 days until the 12th pass
Where Living Cavern, Igen Weyr



Living Cavern
Dim light from hanging glow-globes cannot fully camouflage the ravages of time and neglect on Igen's busy living caverns, though hints of its former glory peek through in the decorative cuts to the cave's natural limestone and the high quality of dusty, tatty-ended tapestries. Here and there, skybroom tables — stained dark by wood finish and a decade of grime — sit in loose groups, flanked by wicker chairs with pointy, broken rattan that pokes out to invariably find unprotected skin. The seemingly randomly placed furniture, however, at closer inspection, forms a sort of cross-shape of negative space. At the northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns, a long buffet table with tarnished lazy susans hosts an array of finger-foods and pitchers for the interested, refilled occasionally by drudges that shuffle in from the curtained entrance to the south, beyond which lies the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside and, across from that, to the west, a set of rattling doors that open to reveal the tunnels and stairs of the inner caverns themselves.

It can be difficult being the new girl, especially when it's dinnertime and the caverns are so busy. Especially when you've been given leave to eat and the other apprentices have not. So if you're Irelynn and flying solo for the evening you find some table out in the midst of tables, one with a few unoccupied chairs. The rest are occupied by strangers you don't know. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, the pieces of rattan poking out and sticking her in the legs and back. The girl twists around and picks at them, then traces her finger idly on the layer of grime that apparently layers so many of the tables. Her expression is polite and carefully schooled to something neutral, the current of nervous energy obvious beneath all of that. Hesitantly, she flashes a tight smile at her tablemates before picking up a fork.

There are few things that could make eating amongst strangers more uncomfortable. But if Irelynn was hoping for one the non-existent Pern gods are not smiling on her, for in front the bowl stalks Igen's mountainous weyrleader. Even if it weren't for his knot, people still tend to part to make way for his sheer size, and so it isn't long before he's made his way through the food line, and has comandeered a mug of klah. A animalistic noise of disgruntalment issues forth from deep within the man as he nears the leadership table, a line of people already forming to jump the man as soon as he sits with business he couldn't care less about, so he makes a break for it, hopefully unseen, to drop down at the table of an unsuspecting, new, apprentice. A grunted greeting of, "HMPH." Is given the across the table, surely she understands that to mean, 'thanks for allowing me to share a part of your table and saving me from the hordes her lingers like scavangers about my own'. Right? And then the man is shoving a fork full of meat into his mouth.

The color about drains from Irelynn's face as she stares across the table with wide light brown eyes at W'rin. Her lips are parted with the fork hovering just inches away from her mouth. The hordes of people that linger in the area waiting to descend upon the man as he eats has her staring around them like a deer caught in the headlights. Clearing her throat delicately the apprentice lowers her hand and tips her chin up to reclaim some form of decorum. "Weyrleader, sir." The grunted greeting is met with a little nod of her head, still just so petrified and out of her element. But we must forge on ahead, yes? "How- how was your day, sir?" She wonders, doing her best to sound ernestly interested as she now takes the opportunity to shove that mouthful of food into her mouth.

The second forkfull screetches to a halt just before the W'rin's open (and still fantastically full - half chewed) mouth. His eyes lift from plate to girl, she wants to talk. Delightful. The silence lingers between question and answer as the man gapes at the apprentince. Finally, probably to the relief of all, he closes his mouth to chew, and the fork dips toward his plate, so that the mound of unattended food plops back to the rest of his waiting dinner. Learning the art of small talk has been a long and arduous process. "Fucking sucked." And an ongoing lesson. "You?"

When she finally swallows her own mouthful of food, more politely than he does perhaps, she utters a quiet, "Oh." And then swallows again, this time a result of nerves as she searches for the next appropriate thing to say. Her eyes drop down to the table and she pokes at her plate idly with the fork as a brief moment of awkward (for her) silent ensues. Finally when it appears as if she might not say anything else, "Frankly? Terrible." Irelynn hazards an upward glance of those wide eyes at him before straightening her shoulders out and lifting her head once again. "Would you like to tell me what happened, sir? If you want."

Surprisingly perhaps, her frankness is what finally draws W'rin into the conversation. Blunt honesty he appreciates. "Yah?" It is less a question and more an affirmation, a bonding experience. These horribly days, they are sharing them. Whatever nerves she is feeling either do to his size, his strangerness, or his knot he seems completely unaware. And the still wielded fork is jabbed toward the young woman with a shake of his bearded head. "You first." Or only, as the lack of communication skills probably implies.

"Yes." Irelynn responds properly, primly. It seems as if his willingness to be drawn in does a smidge of good in her not looking as if she'd like to stop, drop and roll right on out of the living cavern. She even manages to actually spear another piece of food, though she ends up helplessly paused in her motions again as he puts the onus on her instead. Struggling for a moment she once more glances down to the tabletop, "You see…" She begins, nervous and awkward. "I- I have only been here a few sevens. And sometimes I don't know where things are located. And then I can't find them or worse- I put them where they don't belong. And then no one can find them later. Then I feel terrible and I admit that I'm the one that lost them or misplaced them or can't find them at all. And my journeyman he really just- He becomes so awfully frustrated with me and I think, I think that next time I'm just going to lie so I don't get in trouble again." There. Good plan. Confessed to W'rin of all people. And so it is that he's laden with the 'hardships' of a seventeen turn old girl. Taking a breath, "Now you."

"Lie? About something you did?" W'rin's booming voice rising steadily as he continues, enough so people about the leadership table at the front of the room recognize him, and then more than enough to keep them from scurrying over. "You messed up, you fucking own it!" As thunderous as the tone is, he's yet to do anything about it besides stab aggitatedly at a piece of meat, shoving it in his mouth before he continues. "Instead of worrying about what to do next time, why don't you just not have a next time. Make a system. Don't lose shit." Cause it's that easy. Really. "Write down where you put it, or some shit." The fork drops his plate with a clank, as he leans back and crosses his arms over his barreled chest thoughtfully.

It probably doesn't seem possible for her eyes to widen anymore than they already have. But there they go, the whites visible all around as her face visibly pales once again. Then some color begins to floor her cheeks and then a whole lot more until she's absolutely flaming all around. Irelynn shrinks down in her chair, shoulders hunched as she glances around to the people who are undoubtly staring at the two of them now. "Uh- no, sir. I just thought about it. I won't do it, I promise." She responds in a quiet, meek voice. Carefully she lowers her fork onto the plate in front of her, watching him as he stabs that piece of meat. It might be all that he's doing, but it certainly seems to be more than enough. "I'll write some things down." She assures him with a quick nod and sweep of her gaze around them. "I think- I think that I'm going to be sick. Excuse me, sir?"

W'rin wasn't particularly angry, it's just his advice voice is several deciples louder than his already loud normal voice. Though the girl's excuse does draw a level of anger, a growl emminating as his brows pulling downward as his jaw sets. "Sick? Sick! Is the food making you sick! I swear to fucking Faranth, I will have Corelle fire every fucking…!" His voice trailing off even if the volume seems to linger without any words. "I won't have my crafters getting sick…" More is mumbled under his breath as he jerks his head toward the inner caverns. "If you want." Because surely she'd rather be sick in the crowded caverns. There is something else he's supposed to do. Silence, as he thinks. A grunt the memory strikes him, "Uh. Thanks for, eating with me?" Was that correct? The weyrleader's expression searches for validation that he did that whole 'polite' thing correctly.

Well, in honesty it probably doesn't take much to frighten an already nervous teenager. So a voice several deciples louder than it needs to be is more than enough. When he begins to threaten to fire all of the whoever, she whitens once more. Her mouth opens and closes as if she's about to say something, but decides against it. Instead she hesitantly offers, "Oh, no, no. It's not the food. There's just a bug that's going around. I probably caught it from a patient." She laughs anxiously and slips out of her seat. Quickly she pulls the plate towards herself and smiles super awkwardly at W'rin. "You're welcome, it was a pleasure." Proper raising indicates that now is the time to make a hasty curtsey and smile as politely as she can. "Another time, perhaps, sir." And then she holds her hand to her mouth, feigning nausea beforre turning to dash out of the living cavern.

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