Who

I'yn, Moanna

What

Klah sipping in the living caverns.

When

It is afternoon of the nineteenth day of the fourth month of the eighth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr

OOC Date 03 Jul 2016 04:00

 

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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.


Off to the side of the collection of dining tables, taking up a large space on his own, is one greenriding dragonhealer: I'yn, wearing a loosely-fitting white buttondown shirt with sleeves that are WAY too long and his riding-leather pants, looking half-asleep as he spoons some kind of watery meat stew — chili, is that chili? — into his mouth. This is the sleep-zombie of someone who has been working too long and is only eating because his lifemate reminded him that was a necessary evil. There are a few hides spread around the table, and a bottle of ink. The bottle of ink is the important part, because it is overturned and there is also an ink-splattered large gold firelizard. Having knocked over the bottle, No lets out a very loud and distasteful squawk and backwings away from the table, knocking into a chair in the process. I'yn … doesn't notice. Spoon. Spoon. Blink.

Moanna can't help but notice the ruckus, large brown eyes focusing on the scene, her tray gets set into a spot not occupied by ink or papers or lizard and she uses her napkin to halt the flow of the ink. "Um, excuse me but - your notes - your notes will be ruined if you leave them like this." Anything that isn't covered in spattered ink gets gathered into a pile, while the young Imani woman focuses on the sleeping zombie and the poor creature responsible for the chaos.

Attention given to them has No calming down, almost embarrassed; she shakes ink off her wings and goes to perch on her human's shoulder. Which, considering he was wearing a white shirt … oh well. I'yn blinks a few times more, tossing his head to clear it, and gives Moanna a confused look. And then gives the table a look. And — "Well, that's what I get for not sleeping last night," he says with a long sigh, standing up and not even trying to shake No off as he produces a towel from under his chair (it has ichor on it, but that is what he has to work with right now) and attempts to clean up the most of it. "I am terribly sorry for, um, whatever it was she did to — it's very kind of you to help." He is not eloquent or good at talking to people when he IS conscious, this is ridiculous.

A slow creeping smile moves over her features and she shakes her head faintly in the negative. "There is nothing you should apologize for, she didn't bother me any. I imagine firelizards are one of the hazards of living in a weyr?" The papers are tidied, those with ink set aside to dry and the rest piled together. "Might I join you? I am still new here, so I am still in the process of getting to know everyone." She waits politely for his answer.

"Firelizards are a hazard of living most places," I'yn says tiredly; this is a different kind of tired, as he gives the gold a dirty, but affectionate, look. "Her name is No for a reason, trust me. Fifteen turns old now and she's still not learned how to not have that be the most frequent thing yelled at her." No is dignified, and licks some ink off a forepaw. He considers the idea of company very carefully, and considers it more quickly thanks to draconic pressures than he otherwise might, "Yes, you're welcome to," is the final offer. That is not to say he's the most fantastic company ever if you wanted a conversation. At least he's awake now?
Moanna laughs, "They are more abundant here than they were in the Caravan I lived with. She sounds like a creature of immense personality." The young woman settles her tray down arranging herself neatly in the chair. "I am Moanna, M'khal's neice." She adds the last as an afterthought as she breaks the small roll in half. "Do you often have to operate on no sleep or was this a special occasion?" The girl asks gently as she digs into her meal.

It seems I'yn has to think about that one too; he is literally chewing on his answer, a piece of meat in his mouth. (He is continuing to look gradually less like a zombie and more like a person who would be completely orderly were he not covered in ink as well as ichor.) "Not … often. Enough I'm pretty good at surviving without it from time to time, though. I have also developed the unfortunate tendency of zoning out while thinking I'm with it, though. I'm I'yn, by the way, dragonhealer. I know — of M'khal," They haven't met, but Vazirynath keeps tabs on everyone, and — I'yn snorts. "My better half says Llystareth is pleasant."

"It is a pleasure to meet you I'yn, and of course, my regards to your Vazirynath," Moanna grins, and at her uncle's name she shrugs. "He and I still don't quite know what to make of each other yet." As for the rest, she listens finding amusement in the ink stains. She manages another drink from her mug, "It must be challenging working on such large creatures, especially in a Pass."

"Haven't known it any other way," is I'yn's soft answer, though he appears distantly thoughtful for a second. Vazirynath, of course, wishes that they had; that yearning that still pops up occasionally for his life before, the one she never saw and yet remembers. "I mean, I healed humans before I Impressed, but as a dragonhealer, it's always been a Pass. And really, I'm better in the queens' wing or on the ground than up with the real fighters."

"The real fighters?" Large brown eyes focusing on the man curiously as she forks a bit of orangish vegetable into her mouth. "Aren't all of the wings important when flying thread?" It's a concept that is new to her, but he has her undivided attention now.

"I mean, of course," I'yn looks impressed, if anything, as he finally shrugs No off his shoulder, "And don't ever let anyone tell you the Weyrwoman isn't one of the best Threadfighters we have, because she absolutely is," I'yn has always been Team Mayte in the debate of whether or not she should have been able to fly Fall, "But my role isn't anywhere near as much fighting as even many others in my wing, and that's what we're best suited to. Everyone has their parts to play."

"Why would anyone have cause to say otherwise about the Weyrwoman?" Moanna wonders, possibly remembering an encounter with the woman in question. As to the rest, she grows thoughtful. "I think I like that Idea." Moanna murmurs around the rim of her mug. "That everyone has a role to play."

I'yn is grinning, just the littlest tiny bit — he can't help it. "It was not an unpopular concept for some time that the Weyrwoman shouldn't be fighting Thread, considering how few queens we had, considering the dangers in general … some of the," I'yn swallows the word 'Nowtimer,' because who says that anymore? "Local views were against letting the goldriders into the skies. Weyrwoman Mayte, and Sadaiya before her, were, are, formidable and should be up there giving their all, not coddled. Those are my beliefs, don't let me sway you against every conservative Weyrleader we ever have." His eyes have darkened just a tad, countenance dropping some of its enthusiasm, at this conversation — he lost Sadaiya, who was important to him, to the stresses of being Senior, and he lost Linny, who he had known all his life, to Thread she hadn't even wanted to fight. But that was over.

"M'tej mentioned that the other day, that two queens was an unusually small number for a fighting weyr during a pass." Moanna notes, leaning over the table a little more as she listens. "I doubt very much anyone minds what a kitchen hand thinks of much of anything." Her smile flickers, as she watches the change in his demeanor, a tentative hand reaching out, possibly in an attempt at a gesture of comfort. "It is a heavy burden, to be a rider, isn't it?"
Oh, M'tej. That's a safely familiar name to I'yn, too, for all he hasn't actually managed to talk to that other familiar face. "Most of us care what a kitchen hand thinks of things, actually," he says with a gentle smile. "I spend a lot of time in the kitchens trying to convince people to make me better sandwiches than I can make myself. It's hard, of course," he accepts a touch to his arm if that's where she wants to go with it, "but I would say it's a heavy burden to live in a Pass, period. I've never been seriously injured. It's the people you grow close to." The things you give up everything for. But he was glad to have her. More than.

Laughter bubbles in her alto voice at his reasoning for the kitchens. "Perhaps next time if you come when I'm on duty I can assist, provided you don't mind teaching me a little bit about weyr life." It's a good deal, isn't it? She seems to think so at least. Her expression sobers for the last nodding quietly as she listens. "You have lost comrades."

"Everyone has. You will, too," I'yn warns, though he looks calm now, even and collected. And definitely awake. No shoves her nose curiously in the vicinity of Moanna's shoulder, curious (and still trailing ink, but at least it isn't on her face). "Just living here, you'll meet people who will be disabled or die. It happens. I've lived in a Weyr, one or another, four total now goodness I feel better traveled than I actually am saying that, for — most of my life. I had three turns at a Hall."

Moanna's expression sobers a little, though the nosing of the gold causes her smile to return just as warmly as before. "It is true of anywhere a person lives isn't it, though?" She muses pushing around a bit of meat with her fork. "Must have been interesting, seeing the differences that exist between weyrs." Moanna notes looking up again. "I never got to see much more than the few Holds and Halls our Caravan traded with, so in a way being sent to live here has been a lot of fun, because I get to experience so many new things."

Difference between weyrs, difference between times, but I'yn isn't actually going to volunteer that. He never does. Many people forget what once set him apart, and he has no objections. It's bad enough being noticed for No's occasional slip-ups. "And yet you've seen a lot more of Pern than most people have, I'll wager," I'yn hazards, despite not being a betting man. "The most interesting thing, I think, is — " He can't say that. 'The difference between the Southerns' will absolutely give away what he is trying not to. " — Just the way places with similar climates and economies can be so different from one another," sure, that's good enough.

"Perhaps," She allows, before nodding in agreement. "I can only imagine that feeling is even worse for people like M'tej who left behind their own times to come here." Moanna sets the fork down in favor of cradling her mug. "It is a harsh world."

There is no choking as I'yn tries to swallow when Moanna says that; it's a gift, it truly is, that he doesn't blow away that cover. The better for him that she has no dragon for Vazirynath to whisper to, as the green finds this entire thing ridiculous. What is he so ashamed of? "I … I'm sure," he agrees tentatively, and then puts more food in his mouth.

Moanna smiles broadly at him as she finishes her klah. "It has been absolutely wonderful meeting you Dragonhealer I'yn, but I best get back to the kitchens before my next shift starts. Feel free to visit anytime, and I'll see what I can do to help assist you in your hunt for a better sandwich."

"I'll keep that in mind," I'yn answers, cautious expression vacating entirely and being replaced by a grin. He'll commit her name to memory, and maybe to Vazirynath's as well; wouldn't that be impressive. "And believe me, I will follow up on it. Maybe bring some friends." Most likely at least his siblings. Everyone loves a good sandwich. It's not long before he departs as well, back to his weyr to get an early sleep.

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