==== September 14, 2013
==== Daycen, Nora, V'dean
==== Studiousness is… rewarded?

Who Daycen, Nora, V'dean
What Studiousness is… rewarded? (Depending on your idea of rewarded, obvsl)
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 24 days until the 12th pass.
Where Library - Southern Weyr

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Archive Library
Once, books lined these shelves… Once. Now a skybroom tree grows, rising from the cracked and jumbled rock-over-dirt floor, natural light flooding down a rift in the ceiling above.


Between the spread canopy of the skybroom and the patchy chase of clouds, there's only inconstant light filtering into the broken ceilinged library this spring afternoon. At least, with winter's storms abated and the work on the stage progressed, the room is a little less foreboding than it once was. Into the quiet the door swings open, pushed wide by the stretch of a rider's arm as his voice filters in mid-converastion. "… because I didn't want to touch them. But with the bindings intact like that. Here, over this way." V'dean gestures with a hand as he stands in place as he holds the door. Almost like a gentleman.

And lo, there is a lone apprentice in the room who has staked out a large stretch of table with scrolls and hide stretched out (pay no attention to the empty cups being used to keep the corners down). Daycen's eyes are glazed from looking at it all just a liiiiiiitle too long. And the end of a quill is tapped restlessly against the table while his chin is propped up with the other hand and elbow. Voices make him look up; but, not really change his position any. "Afternoon." he offers politely. Almost like someone wide awake.

Nora walks in through that kindly held door with her heeled shoes clacking dully on the floor and her brows lifted expectantly. There's also a vaguely pinched expression on her face as she turns to survey the library that, it would seem, is a library in name only, unfit for the job as it currently is. There's a tsk on her lips, more for the suitability of storing any kind of anything in a room with a hole in the top than for the bindings V'dean comments on now. And as she waits for him to lead the way to wherever these potentially-salvageable tomes might be, she flicks a bright veneer of a smile to Daycen, letting her eyes pick up and down him. "Afternoon," she replies, sweetly enough, the grin deepening for the apprentice's glazed expression.

The way V'dean leads is towards the apprentice, letting the door fall closed behind them as he falls in step beside the Headman's assistant. His eyes are first lifted to the shelves behind, a slight frown on his brow as he scans over the debris there, but the expression is replaced by a skew of smile less sweet than Nora's as he drops his attention to Daycen. "Hello. I've seen you before," he recalls off hand as his path veers to wash up against the edge of the table where outlaid scrolls can be spied upon. "Working." Then, now. This is likely the source of both recognition and quirked amusement. "These didn't come from in here?" The hides and things.

Daycen glances between the two smiles. Somehow, his vision has narrowed in on these expressions as possible means of discerning how much doom there is in store for him this day. Though he does take a moment to squint up at the blueriders hair. OH YEAH. Now he remembers. "That's right. When that girl was carrying her basket of… things." So precise when it comes to people and… 'things'.. isn't he? Nevertheless, his head is given a quick shake. "Oh, uhm. No. This is all of my stuff. Sorry. I can clear it out if you need the space, Rider. Assistant Headwoman." At least the boy knows his knots.

Girl with a basket of things. Nora tips a brow toward V'dean, waiting to see if there are specifics he can add to that particular memory. But she's also quick to hold up a clean, slim-fingered hand when Daycen offers to pack up his stuff. "Oh no, not at all. In fact…" Her eyes narrow thoughtfully at him. "I could use you." All encouraging, surely. But whether that use will come now or after V'dean's archeological exploration, well, she waits on the rider to see how pressing it is. Though giving him a glance over doesn't really find all that much to suggest a man with a tight schedule.

Oh, V'dean will be obligingly more specific. "Panties," he supplies cheerfully as he takes up a lean upon the table beside the apprentice's seat. The bluerider is, indeed, rather failing at looking terribly busy and important. He reaches idly for one of the cups holding a scroll's edge, tipping it to look inside. "Could you." There's a touch of suggestion weighted into the words as cool green eyes slide from the depressingly empty cup to Nora. "Are we going to send him climbing up the shelves?" Now back to considering the teen: "What was your name again?"

Daycen was more then happy to leave it at 'things', thank you. He spares a long suffering look at V'dean. As if to say 'why u h8 me bro?'; it's then followed by a stifled sigh. "There's nothing in the cups. In case it would spill." he explains, solemnly, apparently nervous now that Nora has mentioned using him. (It's all Jayanti's fault). The idea of climbing up the shelves makes him raise -both- eyebrows though. That's right. Both at the same time! Oh noes. "Daycen. Name's Daycen, sir. Starcrafter. You know, not really very shelf-climby sort of craft. But uh…"

Oh sure. V'dean can be all polite and ask for Daycen's name while Nora is ready to set him to work no matter who he is. But then, it's anyone's guess whether the rider and the assistant headwoman know one another's names either. For the moment, Nora's smile is a bit elfin when V'dean declares 'panties' with such jovial ease. Perhaps she's had too many meetings with the headman to expect the breezy discussion of such things. But Daycen's put-upon expression only sharpens her amusement further. "No climbing to high places to observe the night sky? Or chasing after some dusty chart?" She clicks her tongue, feigned disappointment, and, stepping up to the table, gives it strokes along its edge with hands spreading and fingertips light. "I had something rather less physical in mind," she assures with the return of that sweet smile. "Daycen." He has a name now. So she wields it.

Suggestion of suffering just seems to turn the bluerider's smile wolfish. "Very responsible," V'dean notes of the apprentice's empty cups, his own solemnity entirely suspect. "Daycen," he's repeating, too. "Starcrafter." Synonymous with nerd! "You know, it's possible to get a ride, to see the night sky from high places." He's probably telling Nora this, as her stroking of the table seems to have caught his attention. His smile is turning up at one edge as he watches her fingertips spread, but it's to the teen that his curiosity turns upon this promise of the designs the assistant headwoman has for him.

"I can solemnly promise I've not once climbed shelves to observe the night sky." Daycen quips. "Stairs to the Star Stones… yes. Shelves, no." he clarifies, with a hint of dry humor in his voice. Is V'dean making fun of him? He's totally making fun of him. For that matter, he gets the distinct impression Nora is toying with him too! Therefore, his expression turns ever more wary. "Well, sure. I don't mind helping." He obviously wasn't getting too far with whatever assignment he was working on afterall. "What did you want me to do?"

Her fingers take one more stretch at the table and then twist, heels forward to lean on its edge, the too-pale side of her thin arms turned up. Nora knows a line when she hears it, and she does seem to enjoy it, if that slow curve of her smile is any hint. And, well, if it wasn't a hint, then the air kiss she sends V'dean's way should do the job. Her grin stretches wide and him and then, back to business, it turns into a smile for Daycen with feline attention. "If you've been spending time in here studying, I wouldn't mind picking your brain." Climbing is set aside and instead she skims a glance around the disheveled room that could use some sprucing up. It might also rest on the half-formed stage like it's an unwanted intruder, but nevermind that. "What do you want from this space?" V'dean is also welcome to comment, of course, though she doesn't appear to expect he has as much preference as the apprentice.

The apprentice's quip earns a soft snort of laughter from the bluerider. There's a touch of the predatory retained in his smile, both for Daycen's wariness and Nora's air kiss. The later gets him draging a contemplative thumbnail along his jaw. It all leaves V'dean a touch distracted from the workfocused question. It takes a blink for him to catch its edge, and then his snort is less amused and more impatiently disappointed. He pushes off from the table lightly to stalk around Daycen's chair instead, tipping a look over the teen's shoulder to give him and his work a closer study as he fusses with his jacket. "Say a bar so you can get those cups filled," he suggests without much hope.

Maaaaaaaaaan, the people here are downright predatory! It must be a Southern thing. The way V'dean walks around behind his chair to look over his shoulder makes him try to crane her head around to the side to watch him. But, once he's there… not much point in that. And all the bluerider is going to see is a grid. Lots of lines. Lots and lots of lines, with things drawn in and notations made. "I was thinking more along the lines of a quiet place to study." he admits, answering Nora and snorting a little at the idea of a a bar. With liquid! Near all the precious paper!!! "You know, a mix of long and short tables. And maybe some comfortable chairs in the corners with little side tables." Basically; a hiding place for nerds.

There might just be a little curl at the edge of Nora's smile for the way that V'dean huffs at her focus on work, but she doesn't bother to make any eye contact with him about it. She just tips her neatly coiffed head with interest as the starcrafter considers his options and makes his suggestions, nodding along. And in the midst, she reaches half-blindly for V'dean's sleeve, as if she were actually capable of pulling him toward her, and away from his hovering so obnoxiously over Daycen, with just the tug of her hand. "We already have a bar. Maybe you can get a ride there sometime," she says aside to the bluerider, a twist of teasing in her voice even as her expression remains light and attentive to Daycen. Most importantly, however, "Some comfortable chairs," she agrees with the suggestions. And then she's eyeing that skybroom again. "I should try to get someone in to evaluate that tree. Does it even get enough water to be alive?"

V'dean has a more deeply dimpled flash of smile for Daycen's backward twisted look. Mostly, he's brow-furrowing at the lines. And more lines. And quiet comfy study places. The tug at his sleeve stops him from completing his circuit, but doesn't quite pull him all the way from his hover. "Love to," is his aside in return of Nora's, given with little lick of his lips that turns them more smirkish. But. Suggestions. "You know," the bluerider's similarly intoned input is totally less relevant, "I was thinking this place had nothing but overindulged women and screw-ups from every corner of two eras of Pern. But I see that I was wrong." There is some notion of paternal pride to the way his hand sets to the back corner of the apprentice's chair, vaguely mocking though it may be as he slants smarm at Nora. While she considers the tree, he'll lean forward to palm something flat against the table, hovering even worse aside Daycen. "Dutiful. Hard working. Just what a young man ought to be, aren't you?" He says it like these are things deserving of sympathy.

"Seems to me that if that tree has survived this long without interference… may as well just let it keep going on the way it is. Unless that roof gets closed up, anyway." Daycen offers, as his entirely non-expert opinion. "But then, all I know about skybroom is that it makes good furniture." That he likes to sit on. Comfy chairs, see? He also goes -really- still when a hand curls around the back of his chair and the other one palms flat against the table. "Is that a trick question? I think that's a trick question." Nora, help a nerd out would you? He looks over at the Assistant Headwoman imploringly.

Nora is not all that much help, since, at the smarming look, she twists in place to lift her hip into half a seat on the table, drawing in a nice long breath and letting it out with dramatic luxury. "Mm, I'd like to be overindulged," she says, that sweet smile spread to the edge between honesty and mockery. She fixes a look on V'dean, and tension about her eyes narrows them suspiciously. Just what is he on about? But nevermind. In fact, that's what she says, ultimately, to Daycen's imploring question. "Nevermind him." She and the apprentice are having a discussion here. "If we're going to keep paper in here, probably best that it not be so… exposed. Unless you prefer your study materials to be a little mildewy. Maybe there's some way to pipe the water down without actually adding humidity to the room?" She looks doubtful, but then she probably knows about as much about trees as a starcrafter.

V'dean exhales out an exasperated noise. Never mind him? "I would hope the Headman's assistant would be a better example of proper respect." It was ever a thin one, and rather rich coming from the shoddily mannered bluerider. He peels back his palm to level a more darkly chastizing look upon overindulged Nora, though there is some humor remaining in the twist of his mouth. And a white knot remaining in place on the table in front of Daycen. "Here, I believe this will put him under your purview for the short term. You two can discuss papers and plumbing and what color the Weyr's napkins ought to be," his hand gives a little wave, and whatever, "to your hearts' content." Fingers gripping tighter at the back of the teen's chair, he cranes a look to better see the younger man's face. "You will accept, won't you?"

All Daycen knows is that it's probably not the best idea ever, to be stuck in the middle between a man making smarmy comments near a woman who is wearing shoes that click. Shoes that click are usually either pointy or heavy or both. And maybe he sneaks a glance toward them. "I figure Smithcraft'd be able to rig something up for you." he suggests, glancing back up now to give the woman a brief smile and tense nod. Sure, he can ign… ooooo, maybe not. "Always figured napkins were white, really. There's other colors?" Yes, that's the detail he boggles on whislt leaning away from the face that is suddenly peering at him, waiting for a response. "I.. well.. yes, sir. Of course I will." Duty. "Thank you."

"And here I was thinking that dragonriders were supposed to be dutiful and well mannered," Nora retorts, a cheery little grin on her face, leaving the rest of the sentiment unspoken, but hanging in the air nonetheless. But it's all in good fun, isn't it? And if not, well, it hardly had any time to develop, since there's suddenly a white knot waiting so importantly on the table in front of Daycen. The woman gives a bright gasp, "Oh!" and her smile turns indulgent. (Perhaps, over-indulged as she would like to be, she has indulgence to spare.) Sadly, that knot has probably also distracted Daycen from Nora's shoes, which she's quite pleased with, and the flagrant showing of calf above them, which she seems oblivious to, but that's really neither here nor there. And when the young man responds to the prospect of candidacy in the way he does, she fixes him with a proud grin. "Already a shining example," she remarks. Good dutiful candidate. "So I suppose your falling-apart findings can wait?" she asks of V'dean with a brow hitched up as she slides herself off the table to stand.

Upon the note of dutiful and well mannered dragonriders V'dean opens a gesturing palm towards Daycen. Totally a shining example, right? The bluerider looks unnecessarily smug for the teen's agreement, like he had anything to do with this exemplary behavior. "There's a lad. You're quite welcome," he is all breezy presumptiveness as he finally releases the newest candidate's chair to aim a pat for his shoulder before stepping back. "Sure, I can show you after you get Daycen signed in," is his reply to Nora. "And then you can give me that ride in the tavern." The pleased dip of his lashes almost qualifies as a bat. Was that not her phrasing? Moving on… "You'll love it, kid. There are rules. No drinking, no screwing… so, you know. Just keep on doing what you're doing." Nerd. His smile is brilliant.

Daycen opens mouth, closes mouth. Being especially truthful at the moment doesn't seem the wisest idea, so whatever he was going to say comes out as a… "Nnhnn." That's the nerd's clarion call of agreement. Don't do anything fun; sounds almost exactly like his current life. But in daylight hours instead of night ones! He doesn't even linger on that glimpse of shapely calf. No maamsir not him. He grabs the white knot off the table now, and starts the agonizingly meticulous process of getting all his things gathered together. Trade one barracks for another!

Nora fixes V'dean with a scrunch-nosed grin, even before she sweeps in to aim a pinch at his chin between her thumb and knuckle, which he totally deserves. But she doesn't tell him a 'trip to the tavern' — which is not what he said anyway — is out of the question, so the bluerider can just keep on dreaming. "You were supposed to give the ride," she reminds him before she turns her back on the man so that the new candidate can have all her attention again. "If it were up to me," the headman's assistant begins. "You'd just continue to go about your starcrafting until the eggs are ready, but…" A sigh, it's not up to her. "Instead, we probably just get to shuffle the workforce around." Even as she says it, though, she eyes the decrepit room again. Work to be done, workforce on hand? Hm. "Anyway, we'll get you settled in so you can fight over the best cot." When Daycen is done packing up, that is. She waits, somewhat patiently, fingers stroking at her palm.

V'dean is hardly unwilling to be captured, his dimple fixed in place above the press of her thumb. "Right," is all he says to her admonishment, quite likely dreaming away contentedly by the way his eyes rake over the assistant headwoman. He is noticing those ankles, even if his candidate is pointedly avoiding them. Taking swinging steps backward, the bluerider takes a moment to observe Daycen's dutiful packing with a satisfied skew of his smile. "Try to get one further from the weyrling's cavern," is his suggestion on cot. "That last clutch isn't out and about yet, so…" his hand lifts briefly to his nose before he turns it into a cheerful little salute. And with that, the bluerider is off on his approximation of busy and important to leave Daycen's settling in Nora's capabale (if totally overindulged) hands.

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