Who

Ardstelle (NPC by R'zel), Ryott

What

A little mutual testing.

When

It is sunrise of the tenth day of the fifth month of the seventeenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Kitchens, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 24 Jun 2019 23:00

 

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Kitchens

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.


Sunrise, and while most of the Weyr are just getting started with their day, the Kitchens have been buzzing for candlemarks now, loafs and rolls of bread on the cooling racks, cooks moving amongst each other, cooking dozens of eggs, chopping up fruit for a sald, rolling minced and seasoned meat in pastry dough. It's a type of synchronized chaos storm of productivity, a perfectly balanced Weyr-feeding machine. And Ryott has no intention of disrupting that balance as she slips into the room quiet as a trundlebug, not expressly hiding her arrival, but making no fanfare about it either. She's wearing an oversized tunic that practically hangs off her and a loose pair of drawstring pants, both rumpled with telltale signs of having been slept in. There are advantages to having a weyr that connects to the caverns, mainly not worrying about the weather when you want a quick snack. Her short, inky dark hair is also mussed, her bangs falling in her heavy-lidded eyes. As she passes one of the cooling racks, a couple rolls find themselves in her pockets, then a small crock of butter and a mug of klah are acquired, as she makes her way towards an unused stretch of countertop. Putting her things down first, she hops up on it with ease, feet dangling over the edge as she pulls a roll from her pocket, rips it in half and starts to liberally apply butter.

It's a shame for Head Cook Teca, really, but Ardstelle still very definitely regards these as her kitchens. She broods over them like a mother hen, giving instructions here and there and aware of everything that goes on. "Yes, carry those through, dear," she tells one girl, while another youngster is instructed to "Clear the decks, dear. A good cook cleans up as she goes along. And let's have those rolls in a breadbasket…." Those rolls of which two are now missing. As she looks around for the culprit, her eyes light upon Ryott. "Come for a bit of breakfast, dear? A weyrwoman's entitled to a chair, you know - would you like one? And a plate." There's something about the way she says it that implies Ryott really ought to avail herself of these customary amenities.

Watching Ardstelle rule to roost as it were in the Kitchens is entertainment all in itself. Taking a hearty bite of her roll, Ryott is chewing thoughtfully when the headwoman finally spots her. "Well clearly…." she says in hr trademark deapan, speaking around the bread in her mouth. The pointed suggestion of using a chair is returned with a shrug before swallowing her mouthful, "Figured I'd be out of the way over here," she replies simply. It might be true, she's picked a spot that is tucked into a bit of a quiet corner. "But I'll take that plate if you're offering though," she'll compromise there at least. Another bite of her generously buttered roll as she lets her gaze wander over the busy workers at their tasks. "So one hatching done, and another clutch already cooking hmm…Wonder how many girls looking for white knots you're going to have to turn away this time," she remarks in an offhand comment kind of way.

Ardstelle picks a plate from the top of a pile as she passes and brings it over, a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she holds it out to Ryott. "Well now, that depends on a number of things, doesn't it? What orders come down from above. How many people choose not to follow them - or think they just apply to everyone else. How many sisters, cousins and - was it two childhood sweethearts? our riders suddenly develop." Yes, she knows when wool is being pulled. "I'll be satisfied if we get another good clutch, dearie, and all safely Impressed at the end of Hatching Day. A dragon's a dragon, whoever's riding it."

Taking the plate, Ryott holds it in front of her to catch any crumbs as she continues to munch on her rolls, the threat of a smirk forming at the corners of her lips as Ardstelle proves she's savvy to the tricks certain riders tried to pull during the last Search. "It's true. Sadly, our fearless leader," said with dripping contempt, "is only going to dig his heels in further, I'm afraid, judging by the way he doled out demotions to those responsible. I suspect all this insubordination is bunching his britches something fierce." A gleam of dark glee at the though briefly betrays her normally neutral expression. The older woman's last is acknowledged with a brief nod of her head, "True, and maybe it will be different for Theidith's clutch. Afterall, he'll be contending with Ulrika now…" she trails off significantly before taking up her mug for a slow sip.

"Maybe, maybe. But that's rider business." And none of Ardstelle's, she implies. "I did keep some of the cousins. One of them's turned out to be a very fine seamstress, so I've set her to repairing all those white robes in time for next time." There's a faint pause, just long enough to contemplate the opportunities for mischief - desirable or otherwise - that might provide. "But we'll see. Maybe Theidith will clutch a nice gold egg, and everyone will be happy." She gives a beaming smile. "So hou's your golden lady? Are we going to have another clutch on the Sands, as well? It seems to be quite the fashion, with with us last time and now Igen."

"Rider business, my ass," Ryott replies with a scoff as she moves to put another obscene amount of butter on the next piece of bread she picks up from her plate. "You have just as much of a right to an opinion as the rest of us, without you and all the weyrfolk, riders would be fucked." Her language colorful as ever as she licks the melted butter shamelessly from her fingertips. "Yeah, unfortunately Theidith got caught by a brown though, which means no gold egg. Or that's what I've been told anyway," she explains with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. As for her own lifemate, Ryott shakes her head firmly at the idea of another double clutch. "Shards no! Or I hope not anyway. She can bloody well take her time with it too." she adds stubbornly at the end.

Ardstelle smiles, unconcerned. "Stranger things have happened, dear - after all, nobody thought she was going to be gold. But that just shows how much point there is talking to me about this sort of thing. And I'm sure your girl will come to it in her own sweet time - later or sooner." In other words, she's not proposing to go on record with what she thinks in front of the entire kitchen. Or possibly at all. "Is that all the breakfast you're having, dearie? A young woman like you needs to eat properly. What have you got lined up for today? Anything we can help you with?"

"I suppose so…" Ryott muses with a faint furrow of her brows. Surely if it could happen, it would have and her teachers during weyrlinghood would have said. "I'm not worried about Wrayth," Ryott replies honestly with a subdued pride in her queen, "She'll go up when she's ready, and not a moment before. I heard her dam took a while before rising for her first time, so maybe she'll take after her." The girl can only hope. With a soft huff and a roll of her dark eyes at the headwoman's next, she defiantly takes another bite of her simple breakfast, "I'll be fine. I'll grab a couple apples to take with me," the truth, although they will probably end up as treats for a certain gold. "Hidework is the order of the day, like most days. I got about a mountain of it on my desk," she relays with a soft groan. "I need to get myself a proper assistant."

"An assistant? To do what, dear? Maybe I can recommend you someone. We've had quite a few new people come to stay, lately; maybe there's someone with the right talents." Among all those cousins and childhood sweethearts that Ardstelle didn't manage to turn away, no doubt! "Though, there's something to be said for finding your own ways of getting it all done first, so that they can do it just how you like it. As my old Ma used to say, you need to be able to manage the work before you can manage other people doing the work." How convenient of Ardstelle's 'old Ma' to have such a timely hint!

"I dunno, I was told weyrwomen get assistants," Ryott replies a little vaguely with another shrug of her thin shoulders, although she couldn't tell her exactly how she came across this information cause she frankly doesn't remember, some lesson or another. "Someone organized I suppose," since Ryott is most certainly not, "who can read and write. I'm not picky." Ardstelle's old Ma's advice causes her nose to wrinkle slightly with distaste. "That's great advice," she replies a touch frostily as she pops the last bite of bread roll into her mouth, dusting the crumbs clinging to her fingertips off over the plate. "But I'm trying my own thing here. Let me know if you find anyone suitable," it's not exactly a request or an order, but lies somewhere in between, a small sort of test of her authority. Her mug is then lifted and drained in one last gulp.

"I'll have a think, see whom I can come up with." Ardstelle has already offered that. She smiles broadly. "Well, enjoy your hidework, dear; such a chore, isn't it, but it has to be done." She does get her own share of it, after all. There's a crash from somewhere across the kitchen. Ardstelle takes her time in looking round, but when her eye settles on someone who's clearly wet and steam rising from both him and the floor, she says, in a far brisker tone than she's been using, "Excuse me, weyrwoman, I think I'm needed." She's already calling instructions as she walks away. "Bellia, get some cold water! Take that scalding tunic off, love. No, don't be shy…"

"Yeah right," Ryott mumbles sarcastically at the thought of ever enjoying hidework. The crash briefly catches her interest, and she waves off Ardstelle when she excuses herself. Hopping down from the counter, she puts her dirtied dishes with others piling up in a wash basin, before she uses the chaos of the incident to sneak quietly from the Kitchens. It's still early, she has time for a bath before the realities of the work day come crashing down on her, right?

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