Who

Majel, Veresch

What

Two of Igen's weyrfolk reflect on the changes wrought in them during the incubation of Elicheritath and Sekhaenkath's clutch.

When

It is before dawn of the twenty-second day of the fifth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Kitchen Courtyard, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Kitchen Courtyard

The domestic space of the kitchen courtyard is small, dusty, slightly over-grown, and practical. The focal point of the stone courtyard is a large well found directly in the middle. Turns have worn the once angled bricks to soft, crumbling curves about the lip, and a bucket always slightly damp is tied, secure, and ready to use at the side. Though a broom has swept here since last you passed through, it would appear the wind-borne dust has merely been heaped under the cobble-cracking shrubs of a stubborn environment that grow ever upward. A few benches are scattered around, but the feel is not comfort, for this small slice of sky and wind are saved for a kitchen staff always on the move.


In the hours just before dawn, the weyr is just beginning to stir in preparation for the upcoming day. Overnight staff are switching shifts; riders are going off or getting ready to come on duty; candidates with morning duties are emerging for breakfast and klah. Majel is among the latter, but she's chosen to take her repast in the courtyard. Settled straight-backed on one of the available benches, she's people-watching the passers-by before her assignment is due to begin, steadily working her way through a small bowl of fruit and a round muffin.

There are those that just have the sheer bad luck of being awake this early in the morning, and the young woman striding into the kitchen courtyard is one of them. Veresch has been scarce around the Weyr the last seven or so, most often out on errands to other parts of the world. Today… today her body forced her to wake up early and from the look on her face, she didn't exactly have a say in it. Dressed rather atypically for her, in what looks like a modest blouse and riding skirt, she's neat but looking rather bleary, thinner than a month ago and just a tad taller. "Morning, Majel," she mutters in passing, heading for the kitchen entrance and a hearty breakfast.

Hazel eyes flick an appraising look up at Veresch at her mutter, taking in the changes now obvious to someone who hasn't seen her often in the past month and then some. "Running suits you, " Majel replies after a moment, calling after her. "You'll have to tell me all about where you've gotten to go, sometime." Which roughly translates to: Would she like them to breakfast together?

Veresch tosses a smile and a thumbs-up over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. Five minutes later, laden down with dishes and a mug of klah, she returns to the small seat and makes herself at home on one end of it. "Thank you," she says perfectly poitely, laying out her things. "With all my friends grabbed up by dragons, I had to do something to stop being bored, right?" Her mouth unfurls into a bright smile. "Soon, right? I delivered a ton of invitations for the Hatching. Excited yet? In a seven or so you might be a rider yourself."

Majel scoots slightly to one side to help make room for those dishes, returning the girl's smile with a smaller one. "Soon enough, " she agrees, glancing briefly off in the direction of the bowl. "It's a little scarier than I remember it being the last time. I'm not sure if I'm more afraid of a dragon finding me, or of walking away again. However, " and she brightens a little, "I've decided not to go back to the bazaar afterward, either way. I think I can be of better use here, learning something more practical than making pretty shirts."

The younger girl's gaze is very direct as she listens, slowly stirring sweetener into a bowl of porridge. "I'm sure that Prineline will welcome you — what is it that you were thinking of doing?" Her gaze drops to her spread, frowning slightly. "You shouldn't be scared, Maj, really; you're a pretty great person, so I'm sure there'll be one waiting out there for you this time. Besides, if there wasn't, Granny Awesome would probably raise a huge ruckus, and they'd be too scared to risk that." Gnawing on her lower lip, she reaches out to squeeze gently at Majel's shoulder. "You'll be fine," she coaxes. "Either way. Promise. And it'll be nice to have you around the Weyr the whole time."

"Truthfully?" Majel takes another spoonful of sliced fruit, perhaps in a bid to buy herself a few more moments of not having to answer. "I'd like to ask if I could work with her. It would be a far better career path than working for Neb any longer. And I don't think I could bring myself to try one more time after this, anyway. If it isn't meant to be, I should direct my energies elsewhere instead of indulging the echoes of childhood fantasies." The corners of her mouth tug upward at the mention of Granny Awesome. "She would, you know. She told me the other day that she put a good amount of marks down for my Impression." This is confided with a clear air of, 'whatever would possess her to do such a thing?'

Privately, Veresch suspects that the old woman is one of the worst card sharks in Igen, thus betting on Majel's Impression doesn't shock her. "I don't know," she murmurs. "Prineline's strict, you know? She's got this unholy kind of bond with my mother, and you become the third part of that I'm going to have to explode messily." From the quirk of her mouth, the thought is both horrifying and amusing all at once. "It's always been a fantasy of yours to Impress then? You stood once before, right? What makes you think it wouldn't happen this time? There are forty eggs out there, right? Your chances are good. It's not one of the small clutches this time's folks were used to before."

Majel raises an eyebrow at "strict" and merely offers up a shrug. "Who's to say that I wouldn't have ended up with a reputation of being severe in twenty-something turns." There's a small head-shake, a rueful look. "It was a fantasy, " she corrects. "I thought … a great many things, when I was around your age. Dragonriders were heroic, I was going to be one of them, and it would be the most glorious adventure. With friends." She shifts a little, less than comfortable with the topic. "Some people just won't be riders when those eggs hatch, " matter-of-factly. "There may be forty eggs, Veresch, but there are ninety-something candidates."

Veresch pays attention to her porridge, eating quickly, quietly and hungrily as she ponders the matter. "Have you seen some of those Candidates?" she asks thoughtfully. "You've had to, you sleep in the same room as they do the whole time. Got them in your mind? Now look at yourself, and then do your numbers again." A few bites from a fruit follows. "I wanted to be a dragonrider too," she says finally. "Still do. But I didn't even get Searched this time around, so you're already luckier than I am. Just hold onto that thought." The rest of the redfruit is polished off, even the core eaten. "It's giving me some time to grow up though, get involved in a few things."

"Many of them are - " young, "naive, " immature, "with much to learn, " Majel says for a good number of her fellows, "but so are we all, even those of us who are taking it seriously." She looks steadily back at the runner between bites from her own bowl. "Being one of the older candidates can't be a factor in Impression, but it may be advantageous in what would follow. That, I do not yet know." It's clear that she has the discipline and intelligence to be successful, but those seemingly best-suited for Threadfighting aren't always chosen. "You'll be an asset to the weyr, no matter what you end up doing, " she assures, expression less detached and a trifle warmer. "Now, then. Tell me where you've been traveling and what interesting people you've gotten to meet."

The girl sits back, crosses her legs at the ankle. "There are too many people to remember," she notes. "Old and young and important and not… oh! There's a nice guy down South you should meet once, and I've met an old trader guard that was pretty interesting too, and the invitations I had to deliver." Polishing off her porridge, she turns to a meatroll. "There was the purge. That was .. interesting. I finally got my period, and I learnt how to ride a runner, and what it means being a Weyrwoman's occasional assistant. I finally went back to Ista to go and have a look at things, and in general? In general I really missed all of you." There's a short pause. "How's Alec doing in Candidacy?" she asks curiously. "I was worried, given his background."

Majel gives Veresch her undivided attention while finishing off her breakfast, setting the bowl aside halfway through the narrative. "That 'nice guy down south' must have made a good impression on you, " she comments lightly, folding her hands in her lap. There's the hint of a frown for mention of the purge, an eyebrow arch for menarche, another for being a weyrwoman's assistant. "Alec, " and hazel eyes narrow thoughtfully. "I've only managed the occasional hello in passing, so I could not say for certain. Why not ask him yourself?"

"I have asked. Everything's okay, apparently," Veresch manages to explain. "But…" There's a look at Majel, an unspoken fact shared, and a shrug of shoulders. "The nice guy down south is called Iain. He's a Roma, and he's very entertaining to have lunch with," she says primly. "My mother would absolutely not like him at all. I'm not sure if you would either, but he's charming, and just old enough to be old without being too old." Sorry, Iain. "I think you'd like him a lot. I was feeling really bad about something when I met him, and it helped to talk to him, you know?" There's a pause to see if Majel understood the currents of emotion drifting there.

"Do you suspect him of being untruthful?" Majel inquires, despite the understanding that flashes between them for that unspoken fact. She turns her attention instead to Nice Guy Down South, who has a name. "Entertaining, charming, old enough, " she ticks off, making a speculative noise. "I see. It can be helpful, " she allows, "and flattering, for someone to be attentive in a moment when you're in need of it." The more important question: "Are you going to visit him again?"

Veresch shrugs; the teen-gesture breaks down the adult mien she's trying to cultivate, until there's only a teenager remaining. "I dunno," she mutters into a sip of klah. But I suspect him of not trusting anyone but his sister enough to tell them if something's going wrong. I'm just really not sure. I mean, he didn't even want the smoke!" Hello, surprise, apparently she got one somewhere. Her expression clears though, becomes carefree. "Iain?" she questions. "I don't know, maybe. But he's just a friend - I just bought him lunch 'cause it's good luck, it was one of those strange wet autumn Southern showers, and he listened. I don't like him that way. I thought about you, but he's the kind of guy that has a girl in every port, y'know?"

Faint disapproval makes itself known ever-so-briefly in Majel's expression at the mention of a smoke, but she schools it away into the smallest of head-tilts with a look that all but says, 'oh really?' "Then earning his trust may not be easy, " she cautions, permitting her nose to wrinkle slightly at the continued recommendation of Iain. "Perhaps it's a good thing, then, that there are no ports here." It's said quite seriously, despite the witty double-meaning. "I appreciate the thought, but truly, you needn't go to the trouble on my behalf. I'm not very inclined toward forming - those sorts of attachments." Distasteful things. They might hold more appeal if she didn't keep everyone at arms-length.

Veresch's expression is a treat to behold, shifting through a myriad of emotions. "I guess," she finally says as she polishes off her klah. "But I guess all of these questions will be answered sooner or later in any case." She manages a smile. "I'm going to go and see if Tuli needs anything. When the eggs start hatching and you hear me screaming from the galleries, I'll be sure to scream for you as well, okay?" She rounds up her dishes, inclines her head. "Good luck." The last is heartfelt, as is the direct stare that goes with it. "And if not, good luck with Prineline."

Majel collects her own bowl and stands; dawn has arrived, and the time for morning duties with it. "Veresch, " and her chin dips in a nod. "Thank you." For the heartfelt good wishes, there's only a straight-backed, even calmness. "May you find what you're looking for, too." She makes a quick trip into the kitchens to drop off her empty dish before disappearing into the growing bustle of the inner caverns.

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