Who

Majel, Sienna

What

Sienna joins some weyrlings at dinner for an informal discussion on how they're handling their training.

When

It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the sixth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Living Cavern, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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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.


Weyrlings have started to make appearances in the weyr proper at mealtimes, by turns harried and relieved with this gradual growth in their boundaries. Tonight, as the dinner hour gets into full swing, a few of the younger faces are visible among the chattering crowd; Majel, meanwhile, is seated half a table away from some of the other older ones, engrossed in a sheet painstakingly bulleted with a sharp, even hand. Every now and then, she reaches for the plate before her, absently putting away forkfuls without quite lifting her glance from her tidy notes, brow furrowed.

Sienna tromps in from outside, dusting firestone grit off her pants from a recent session of practice with the Weyrlings. She'll have to just deal with it for now, as she's got another session in not too long. Glancing at the wing table, she then spots Majel in her seat and smiles. Getting some juice and dinner, she wanders that way. "Sick of me yet?" the AWLM teases, "or mind some company?"

Salutes pop up here and there among the weyrlings as Sienna approaches their table. Majel straightens slightly, adding her own salute with a steady, "Ma'am. Please, " and she shifts slightly to make room for the other woman to join them. "It would bode ill if we were already tired of your company, seeing as we're not yet even a quarter through our training." Dyxath's weyrling, ever the practical soul. She smiles back nonetheless, carefully rolling up her notes and securing them with a firmly-knotted string to tuck them out of the way. "It is convenient, " she notes offhandedly, "that we can begin taking real baths again as we begin handling firestone." There's a faint grimace. "The aching does stop eventually, yes?" Growing muscles hurts.

Sienna laughs, grinning wide at that logical reply, nodding and pushing curls away from her face as she sits. "Almost like it was planned that way," Sienna replies with a wink and crooked grin. Maybe it wasn't, but…who knows, maybe it was! "It does," she promises. "Soon you'll be amazed at what you can do. And still it'll hurt, but you keep going and it'll get easier." The next task is harder, but this one will get easier.

"It's all a bunch of milestones of amazing, " one of the younger, still-awestruck weyrlings chimes in from three places away. "Very sensible, " Majel agrees lightly, tilting an amused look at the weyrlingmaster's assistant. "It's only going to increase incrementally from here, isn't it, " she deduces. "Getting stronger, I mean." The greens on her plate are carefully pushed together before she lifts another forkful.

Sienna smiles warmly at the weyrling, nodding her head. "It is." Milestones of amazing. Good way to put it. Back to the practical one, Sienna grins. "Yup. Of course it is, until you can throw those full firestone bags at least a dragonlength."

"I'd say that it sounds highly improbable, " Majel says thoughtfully, "but slighter people have clearly managed in the past." Despite continuing to pipe up with observant inquiries that piggyback off of their most recent lesson, she's otherwise every bit the reserved tablemate she might be expected to be. A meatroll is quietly folded into a napkin with a conspiratorial, "Dyxath likes experiencing meals from my point of view, although I'll thank him to keep his closer to his vest in the future." Here's one who dislikes the shared joy of indulging in raw meat.

Sienna grins, "You'll get it," she assures, eating politely but quickly. "Does he now? Yes…I'm…I've grown to almost enjoy the taste of raw meat," she admits. "There's something very primal and thrilling about it."

Majel isn't the only weyrling who grimaces in reply. Several begin pushing their plates away, muttering their excuses and offering salutes as they head out. "That's the very first thing I've been working on blocking out, " the bluerider-in-training shares. "I can handle working with raw meat while the day is long, but I've already had more than enough experiences of its taste by proxy. To be fair, he seems curious about my enjoyment of thoroughly cooked meat. He says that it seems appetizing enough when viewed through my perceptions, but otherwise seems a little bland by comparison."

Sienna chuckles, waving at the weyrlings who depart, before she is standing as well. "Blocking is a good skill to have, keep honing it." Then she laughs. "Have him try some of the spicy food from the bazaar one time. See if he still thinks it's bland."

Amusement tugs Majel's mouth into a grin. "I'll keep that in mind, " she promises, expression warming after her eyes briefly unfocus. "He's game." Another experience for their quite long to-do list. Wryly, "He's also hungry again. I don't think talking about food helped much." That's also her cue to get to her feet, salute a respectful farewell with an even, "Good evening to you and Kehemath, ma'am, " before beginning the walk back to the barracks.

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