Vosji, Nasrin


Clutches, birds, and a crabby Headwoman.


It is late morning of the seventh day of the eleventh month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Living Caverns

OOC Date 31 Dec 2017 05:00


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"Seven's a good number of geese for a guardhouse, isn't it?"


Living Caverns

Brightly lit by a regimented march of strung glow-globes, Igen's busy living caverns are cut of the same exotic limestone design that frequents the bazaar without. Tapestries line the tops of the walls, one for each of Igen's wings, past and present; beneath them, skybroom tables litter the floors in scattered profusion. Some of the wicker chairs have seen better days, but most of the worst offenders have long-ago been replaced. The seemingly random placement of furniture, however, at closer inspection yields a sort of cross-shape of negative space. The northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns are owned by the kitchen's buffet, food-laden thrice daily in regimented shifts by busy bakers from the curtained southern entrance to the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside; westerly lies the large doors leading down into the bowels of the Weyr itself.

Nasrin's pals and their blanket forts have deserted the living caverns, either from an adult's edict or perhaps like nomads they eventually move on to better territory. It's the span between meals where the junior's catching her own time for a bite to eat, very seldom is she publically seen eating during an actual course. She's seated at the table where most from Arroyo call their table. But no one from that wing's here to tell her she doesn't have the correct wing credentials to eat there.

Would they, if they were? Vosji was Arroyo once, briefly, but she certainly isn't judging — she's also going to sit there, though, because sometimes she's welcome enough to eat her food amongst a normal wing, and if it's pretty empty that makes it an easy choice. Her meal is not what most would consider an actual meal: it's some huge salad, with a piece of fruit on the side, a wedge of bread and some water. Protein is for other people, at least today. Her hair is sticking out from its pins in a few places, and she's got a piece of lettuce most of the way in her mouth before she actually notices that she's sitting near a goldrider. Nasrin wins a polite nod, at least! No actual greetings from mouth-full weyrlingmasters.

Naw, no one in Arroyo would probably make a moment out of it. Nasrin stirs some boiled vegetables to mingle with a variety of summer squash while she runs through a tithe list. What is the Weyr best going to do with thirty live waterfowl? "Do you think we have the space to house a breeding flock of fowl if we— oh you're far from being Cremla, hello Vosji." Her faux pas in mistaken identity recognized. "Forget I asked that, unless you had some insight?" Hands stack on one another as the question is timed while the Weyrlingmaster is not chewing.

"I doubt I have any real insights," Vosji admits, looking amused as she stirs her salad around and abandons it momentarily for a bite of bread. "But I would certainly enjoy having a flock of birds around, I think. They make some great entertainment to watch. My grandparents raised chickens and there was never a dull moment around there." Baby dragons do eventually get predictable, at least once one gets used to that class, but chickens? Never. "Where you would put them, though, is a reasonable question — no geese in the guardhouse, I don't think." Even if geese would be great warriors.

Nasrin nips a small bit of food she can process quite easily while holding a conversation. "Twenty-three 'White Gypsums'— must be their breed type— and seven geese from Kurkar." Nasrin shapes the kind of smile that often preludes a laugh. Kurkar: the Waterfowl Capital of Holds. "I guess it'll be a matter for the herders to hash out amongst them. Wringing all their necks sounds almost wasteful when they could be self-replicating. And their eggs…" the goldrider seems a big fan. "Speaking of flocks," sipping something to drink, "how is your latest tribute of weyrlings?"

Eating and talking is a little more challenging than Vosji's usual 'eating and working,' but only just. While she has hides with her, she's been intending to ignore them as much as possible, and game birds are far more interesting than making up small groups for wing exercise practice. The sort of wing exercises that actually involve the physical wings of the actual dragons, in this case. "Seven's a good number of geese for a guardhouse, isn't it?" she asks with a wry smile, then adds, "Oh, I think some of them would be happy to help with any potential livestock overstocking. Take after their parents, mostly in good ways, but there's a brown who just wants to be the next Wendryth. He's loud," she clarifies, just in case that wasn't clear on its own.

"You know, in some of the Holds they use them in gardens to both weed and ward the crops. I have heard them effective wardens, I for one have no desire to challenge them. As for use in the guardhouse, maybe there's a job for them watching prisoners. We can leave it to R'xim how he'd like their fertilizer managed." Nasrin, chuckling at that trait, tries not to drape her sleeve in her food. "Ah, so the Weyrleader's dragon has a scion already. And what's his name?"

"I can actually see that." Geese chasing after wayward prisoners, it isn't that hard for Vosji to imagine. Though she's also seen geese on a few ledges of late — she does live near enough to S'rael and his small animal army. "Though I can also see them chasing after R'xim and just driving him nuts, poor man. That one is Yerlyth; I think his rider might be some kind of Blooded, but won't say either way for sure. I also have not yet noticed a penchant for poetry." No real surprise, though, if it comes.

Nasrin's meal is officially finished, but she does like scrawling in the remaining liquid on her plate with some fork tines. "He would probably claim they'd be superior to women in the ranks." By this stage, the goldrider's wearing a big grin, not often getting the chance to lovingly pick on her peers. "Give the young brown time, maybe he and his sire can do collaborations." Dueling poets! "Not that you need the added burden, but I think you will have another dual group to rear." Rajakhelath getting a little golder around the gills?

"Just make sure all the guardhouse geese are actually female, then," Vosji says solemnly. R'xim is definitely her workaholic brother at arms, and it isn't wishing ill, just … being pursued by feminine guard-geese. Not hard to imagine, and very endearing, somehow. "Oh, I think provided two don't hatch on the same day again anytime soon," and Vosji can hope that Rajakhelath won't give Niatskivhiath ideas again, right? "We'll be able to survive without hiring anyone else."

It's too much for Nasrin to think of the Weyrguard training a squad of geese. She must sit back and tilt her head up, humorous near tears appearing in the corner of each eye. "You never know," as the subject leans a different direction, Nas wipes the edges of her eyes and considers the fray of a triple clutch. "Staggered ages— it might not be as bad, right?"

"Historically, no." Vosji has done that one before, though they were staggered by several months, which made it both easier and harder. "Simply assign an experienced assistant to be 'in charge' of each class, because they'll be progressing at different rates, and then you're also not stuck with a weyrling wing so large it needs six wingseconds." Maybe Igen hasn't had one that large in her tenure, and Ista probably hasn't either, but — it definitely happens. Especially with those bigger queens. Southern got lucky they won't be having Dhiammarath and Zymuraith clutching simultaneously …

Nasrin had never considered the exact protocol for any weyrling group larger than two, mostly because they're so seldom. "And so to preserve the Weyrlingmaster's sanity as well." Blue-grey eyes follow an obvious couple as they filter in from the lower caverns. "I hope this brood gives you relatively smooth sailing, if that's even an accura—" the woman in the pairing is now by herself and near to Nasrin's side. "Weyrwoman, excuse me, Cremla isn't out of her quarters and well, yelled at me to leave her be, I was wondering if you might go check on her?" Oh yes, the Headwoman's visiting daughter-in-law. Brows knit and Nasrin considers that slightly out of character, but not a stretch for the middle-aged woman. "I have a key to her quarters, come with me. Sorry, Weyrlingmaster, I guess we'll have to talk fowl another time." Cremla's daughter-in-law, thinking the word to be 'foul' looks kind of aghast, but follows the junior.

"I wouldn't otherwise be able to stay on top of anything, not without careful delegation, but thankfully if that ever comes to pass I was one of the assistants in the previous — " The interruption is met with Vosji's usual aplomb for interruptions: other people's stories are always more interesting than her own and she wants to know where it's going. This one is more alarming than she might have expected, however, and one eyebrow (the right) raises slowly. This does not sound good, even without the potential that Vosji and Nasrin were already discussing murders. "Oh dear," she says, and, "Good luck. You do know where to find me." The good luck is presumably for the Headwoman, though it may also be for those potentially coming weyrlings. She's definitely keeping an eye on Rajakhelath now. When she's done eating. Which doesn't entirely come to fruition, as one or two of the weyrlings are calling for her attention before long - it was a brief reprieve for them both.

Nasrin isn't expecting an event with a holed-up Headwoman, but at least she has a witness with her just in case. "Thank you. Fingers crossed her behavior is just from, I don't know, bad seafood." Fish had been a staple after the herdbeast ban.

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