N'tael, Yules


Yules and N'tael chat in the Kitchens while snatching a snack. Hint: raw tuber is not tasty.


It is noon of the sixteenth day of the sixth month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


Southern Weyr Kitchens

OOC Date


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Renowned, the culinary prowess of Southern, and suitable her kitchens to the task. A broad and airy sweep of room, it cannot help the sweat-drenching heat — though hearths are cleverly set within the ground itself to maximize efficiency. Big copper pots gleam along long tables, cooks hustling to and fro to prepare the necessary meals. There is never a candlemark the kitchens are left unstaffed: even in the wee hours of the night, bakers can be seen shaping loaves and mixing biscuits. For those who miss meals, a sideboard brims with leftovers that are easily transformed into portable potables, complete with sweet herbal tea and a large wheel of a soft, white, crumbly cheese.

The kitchen is a bit of a sanctuary, a place where GOOD THINGS happen. Despite the slowly growing work load for the weyrlings N'tael has slipped away for a bit to seek out that bit of nirvana which can be found in the middle of a nice warm bit of spiced and sweetened bread fresh from the ovens. He's not particularly hiding as he munches down on the heel of a loaf which has been handed to him, but he does seem to be going out of his way to stay out of the way of the other cooks. Thus he has sat his bottom on a stool next to an oven, with his legs pulled up cross legged.

And that right there is why, when Yules spots N'tael upon her entry to the Kitchens, she grins faintly and makes tracks in his direction. "Weyrling," the Wingleader says impressively, and then drops to a less officious mien, "Grabbing a bite to eat between duties?" She doesn't sound reproving in any way as she leans over to grab a bit of what someone's left alone too long in search of a cooking implement - turns out to be raw tuber. She'll chew on it thoughtfull anyways. Around the small nibbles of tuber, Yules' eyebrows rise as she asks, "And how are things proceeding?" Could it be that her diction gets weirder as she ages?

N'tael works to shift the food from his mouth as he scrambs to his feet to salute like a good little weyrling. It's only half successful so some crumbs do fall out when he says, "Ma'am!" A few seconds more while he gets MOST of the bread from his mouth as a smile touches his lips. "Ma'am Ardestelle's always cookin' breads at this time. Tlazotezath's eatin so I figured ain't no'un gonna mind if'n I came t' be beggin' a bite." Well, HOPEFULLY they don't mind. The raw tuber is eyed, he didn't realize people actually ate those things without cooking. Maybe he should try it… "Thing's 're goin' good ma'am! Tlaz's flyin!"

The salute Yules makes back is abrupt and nearly picture perfect, but for the tuber. The mention of the cook earns a quick press of lips from the former cook but the tall woman mphs and nods, "It's the best time, indeed. Is Tlazotezath enjoying flying and catching his own meals?" Another nibble of tuber though her face doesn't change at all, "He would have picked that up from his father, I suspect." As soon as Yules thinks no one is paying attention but N'tael, she tosses the raw tuber into a garbage, her mouth puckering slightly. "And soon you will fly with him. Has he learned to work with you?" Tell me about your mother, young bronze…

It is no secret that N'tael loves Ardstelle, even if he's aware that sometimes her cooking isn't… welcome by others. His bright smiles doesn't flicker even a second as he nods to the question. "'s a relief not t' have t' be cuttin' 's food no more! 'e's gotten real big 'n stuff." No mention of his love for eating the still beating hearts of herdbeasts, this IS a kitchen after all. "I'm lookin' forward t' be flyin' f'r sure Ma'am. I ain't climbed nothin' 'r been up on nothin' taller 'n Tlazotezath standin' in what's seemin' like for'er!"

Hmph. At least Ardstelle runs a clean kitchen - Yules' eyes sweep over the surfaces again critically, but has nothing to complain about… yet. "Yes, their first chance to hunt is… relieving." Not bathroom-style, but Yules snorts, "He might find hunting in the jungle even more fascinating, if a little difficult. Those felines are devious and vicious. Desmeth," Faranth love him, "adores hunting those." Leaving Yules with the hides. Anyways, back to N'tael and Tlazotezath: "And then it's firestone time soon, if I remember correctly. Have you gone ::between:: yet?" The tall woman's found another, more digestible snack to reach for: sticks of cheese. Om. Nom. Three more to make nom-nom-nom.

If Yules is going to keep eating then N'tael is going to take it as a cue that he's totally allowed to also. He settles back onto the chair, wiggling his rump a bit to get comfortable again before taking another bite of that sweet bread. A shake of his head answers her question, "No' yet. Jus' 'e dragons are flyin' solo. Soon tho! I think, mayhap we'll be flyin'. Been throwin lots've stone t' be gettin' strong." N'tael holds out an arm that is losing some of the scrawny to be replaced with firm muscle as if the wingleader might actually want to inspect.

CHEESE. Maybe Yules is short on calcium, because she grabs a few more sticks of cheese and looks back at N'tael, very carefully examining the muscle he presents her. "Good. Very good," she approves but rolls up her own sleeve and straightens her arm to show off an admittedly well-formed tricep: "Don't forget to do the whole work out, so you don't become unbalanced. You need all those muscles while throwing rock around mid-air." Lecture over, for now, "And eat your greens." Okay, now. Yules examines the short young man on the bigger dragon and hems a moment: "Weyrlingmasters talking about wings to you lot, yet?" It's like she hardly remembers her own Weyrlinghood, "Can't remember if it's before or after the first flight together."

"Always do!" As for her question another shake of N'tael's head sends blond hair over his blue eyes, a hint that MAYBE it's about time for him to go visit someone with a pair of sissors again soon. He reaches up to brush it away. "No ma'am," N'tael eyes the cheese in her hand, wondering if maybe it would go well with the bread. Food is always something to think about. "There be a few tho… 'n ye wingleaders're 'e ones what be choosin' us, aye?"

Yules watches that hair and reaches out one cheese stick at it - not to touch it but to indicate, silently. When doesn't cheese go well with bread? When you're ::between::. "There are," Yules allows almost grudgingly, "And I will be." That cheese stick wavers like a wand over N'tael's head again but she still doesn't comment - maybe she expects Nate to leap for it? "A lot of thought and consideration goes into tapping," Yules says solemnly, "for a good fit, not just in ability, but in personal things too." That's right. Things.

Nate brushes the hair from his face again, probably not so much because she pointed it out, but because, well, it's easier to track that waving cheese if it's not in his eyes. The last of his bread gets munched down as he ponder if it's too rude to ask if he can have that stick… she isn't eating it after all. Her solemn answer makes him think maybe not, so instead he'll watch that cheese still and reply, "I hope there be a place where Tlaz'n I 're fittin' then. I know he ain't real nice…" or nice at all, but Nate doesn't add that last bit in.

AHAH, CheeseWand worked! Hair today, gone tomorrow! And because CheeseWand has worked, Yules takes a munch of it. "There is a place," the Wingleader tries to sound dignified, "for any dragonrider and dragon who would fight Thread for Southern Weyr. Even Osweith, who is certain I'm up to something with each new drill I come up with." The last of the chese Yules has filched disappears into her mouth and she points out a little plate of cheeses left, "At least Ocelot just asks that he behave himself on duty, and that you're on time for duties, drills, sweeps, and such things." Sounds so easy, that way…

It's hard to sound dignified when one is chewing on cheese while attempting to be dignified. N'tael looks a bit sad when that cheese gets eaten- well, it's probably a good thing that he didn't ask after all. "Seems like somthin' we could be doin…"

Dinity only goes so far, so Yules snags the plate and takes a sliver of a hard cheese to nip into while shoving the rest of the plate at poor N'tael: "Eat this. Or take it back to the Barracks. Protein builds muscle." Sure, a steak would be even better, but cheese is on the menu right now. "Well, you'll get to do it. A lot of it." For a moment, something sympathetic glowers in Yules' eye, "There's plenty else to do, of course and then downtime…" Brown eyes cross for a moment and Yules blinks: "Desmeth says I'm running off at the mouth," the last said carefully as if she doesn't quite believe him, "And I should let you make your own decisions." Huh. "Is that okay with you?"

Cheeeeese! N'tael doesn't quite grab at that plate, except he totally does as he wraps his arms around it. A cook comes back to a lack-of-cheese and glowers a bit when he sees a weyrling with the WHOLE PLATE. Only a glance at Yules' knot keeps that cook from objecting to the taking-of-cheese. "Ma'am?" Nate tilts his head sideways. "I don't think ye're doin' nothin've 'e sort. I mean… ye're a wingleader righ? 'n I'm a weyrlin', so… 's only proper if'n ye're tellin' me 'e right things t' be thinkin' bout, aye?"

Cheese is important to a growing teen's health. Yules continues nibbling on her own morsel, ignoring the cook who would otherwise protest. Eyes narrow slightly as N'tael replies, but she hmphs. "I can tell you how I think. But your training would train you better that way, and the Weyrlingmasters are better instructors for that than I am." A sliver of hard cheese is left, which gets waggled at N'tael, "Once you get into a Wing, though… Then I get to tell you that." Which Yules might be looking forward to.

If that cheese is going tos tay in his hands N'tael is going to much down onto a nice sharp white piece. "Well… ye're our mentors, aye? I mean…" But he's being cheeky, so N'tael stops and chews on cheese. "Anythin' ye're sayin' I'll be listenin' to ma'am."

Yules acknowledges that point and then takes a new tack: "And are you enjoying talking with Ocelot?" This is clearly not the Wingleader's forte; she finishes her cheese and crosses her arms to glower at … something. "I am looking for an… aide," note, not Second, "to help so I can have more time with you Weyrlings." That's her excuse and she's sticking to it. "And then when you are all aloft and comfortable, we will do things like mini-sweeps!" Okay, now she's getting some inspiration, snagging another tuber of all things to gnaw on. Ptui. "Doesn't that sound like fun, Weyrling N'tael?"

THIS at least is an EASY question. N'tael nods quickly as he finishes chewing his cheese piece. "I'm lookin' forward t' be flyin' 'n stuff. Especially' doin them things what riders 're suppose t' be doin'. Ye know, more'n jus' throwin' stone 'n such. I mean.. I ain't excited 'bout THREAD, 'cuz that's… well, ye know, but, at LEAST throwin' where it'll be doin' 'e most good." N'tatel's not at all sure if it makes sense so he'll stop there and just look upwards at Yules with all the earnestness of teenagehood.

"Thread is one of," remember, Yules learned lecturing from one of the best, "finest moments of a dragonrider. To rise against it is to honour your Weyr and yourself." But then she breaks out of that streak to offer a slight curl of lips that should be sympathetic, "And you'll be just fine at it. Remember, throwing stone today means it's easier to do so up in the air," which has probably already been touched on a million times. "Anything else worrying you about getting out and up there?"

N'tael wrinkles his nose a bit at the thought of it being an 'honor', though he knows it's a common thought. "Tlazotezath thinks it'd be an honor to be dyin' fightin' it." N'tael just tosses that thought out as his never ending appitite fades juat a bit. Her encouragement does bring a smile back to his lips though. "No' really ma'am, tho, mayhap when we're flyin' I figure mayhap I'd be feelin' different. Tlazotezath's been watchin' 'e bigger dragon e'ery chance 'e's gettin t' make sure he's doin' 'er right when we are goin' up t'gether."

Yules's lips purse for a moment into a thin line: "That's not the goal," she says firmly but continues with bemusement, "Nothing great about getting hit by Thread. Now, ducking Thread is the real trick, but," a little look to N'tael, "you'll learn all about that soon enough." For a moment, Yules might even look a little gentle, "Your first flight together's the most wonderful experience. And the hardest part is coming in to land, but you have to be in control because it's better you land on time than have an energy crash and then, well… crash." So dire! This is when Yules gives N'tael a long look-over: "Will that be of concern, your first flight?" It sounds so harsh verbally, even though the Wingleader's words are said with rough sympathy.

"I wonder if'n we can be practicin' duckin…" N'tael gazes upwards with a bit of thoughtfulness, "I'd love t'…" but he fades off with a shake of his heads and a small grin. "I don't think 's somethin' we have t' be worried 'bout but… I guess I won't be knowin? I mean, Tlazotezath's pretty good at movin' 'n stuff. 's usually jus' me what's runnin' till I ain't got no more energy 'n stuff."

Yules wavers between yes or no, her hands seeming to be juggling either answer: "You can practice moves for it," she says finally, "But when you're up there, it's practiced moves, used instinctively." Does that make sense? It does to Yules, but she stares through the wall for a moment and sighs: "Young man, I will have to see you later. Desmeth says I simply must come see A Thing," note, capitals, "but I will be around for more conversation at a later time." So, not now. As evidenced by Yules nodding stiffly, giving a salute, then turning to march out into the Living Caverns.

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