Who

Dyre, Khulan, Magdaline

What

Dyre makes a splash and Khulan steps in it, but Magdaline's there to save the day.

Slightly backdated

When

-- On Pern --
It is 2:38 PM where you are.
It is afternoon of the first day of the tenth month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the sixty-first day of Autumn and 87 degrees. The day dawns bright and clear. Everything is coated in sand, but no clouds linger on the horizon.


Where

Igen Weyr, Kitchen Courtyard

OOC Date 13 Apr 2019 04:00

 

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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.

It is the sixty-first day of Autumn and 87 degrees. The day dawns bright and clear. Everything is coated in sand, but no clouds linger on the horizon.


The skies over the Weyr are cornflower blue and clear - a certain calm lingering after the sandstorm of the former day - and the temperature is warm, if comfortable for the likes of Igen. It is the perfect kind of day to be outside. Alas, some weyrfolk have their daytime duties to attend to, regardless of the loveliness of the weather. Dyre appears in the exit form the kitchen, barely holding onto a full bucket of water; so full in fact that water sloshes over the thin lip with every step she takes. "Easy does it, ease-eeee," she mumbles to herself, until she gets far enough away from the threshold to dump the whole contents onto the sand-and-dust entrenched ground. "There." She sets down her bucket, looking pleased with herself, and dabs at her forehead with the back of her hand. "That's done, now I can take a rest." On one of those sandy benches, in full on apron, under the Igen sun - hopefully no one steps into the sandy-muddy mess she just created.

Headscarf and veil securely in place regardless of the weather, Khulan hastens her way across the courtyard, moving away from the bowl and with designs on the kitchens. She's clicking a bit as she goes, the tap of tongue on teeth occasionally being answered by faint chirping sounds. Her companions are tucked under her scarf, at least, keeping them safe from the sun and securing them from tumbling off. Her hands are bunched in her skirts, lifting them just enough to keep them off the ground but that won't do her much good. In short order, the young woman inadvertently plants one foot into that unfortunate, sand-mud-wet-mess right there and she utters a swear that's definitely not ladylike at all before she awkwardly makes her way over it. Further swears are bitten back as she realizes she's not alone out here, the veil doing a fine job of masking her embarrassed-slash-frustrated expression.

Although there are surely countless things to be counted in the depths of the weyr proper, that's not where Magdaline and her clipboard can be found today. The assistant headwoman comes from the direction of the bowl and she's living dangerously today, trying to read the hides while she's walking. She almost steps in the sandy-muddy spot, but a sixth sense seems to shield her foot from actually making contact. Or maybe it's Khulan's misfortune as she wasn't too far behind the infirmary aide. The older woman winces as she sees the mess and the awkward shuffle. "Dyre, would you be a dear and fetch a bucket of water from the well?" A hand waves towards the well in the heart of the courtyard not to far from the baker's bench. And then she blinks. "You are, Dyre, right?" Names, faces. She tries to keep up with them, but the stream of new folks is growing faster each day as the current clutch hardens on the sands.

Barely has Dyre's bottom touched the sand-covered surface of the nearest bench than a dark haired woman comes through the courtyard and right into the mess she just made. Her face immediately registers a regretful expression, her already large eyes widening further as she springs from the bench and rushes towards Khulan. "I'm sorry. I didn't think-" she says, hands wringing together in worry, but she is saved by Magdaline's deft response. "Yes, ma'aam. I'll fetch fresh water and a," her gaze scours around, "rag." For Khulan. "I am, ma'am." Dyre, evidently. And off she goes, briskly ambling towards the well, where she finds a slightly-dusty bucket to draw fresh water. It's a sloppy task, but one that she fulfills with all due speed, to present a dusty rag and a half-full pail of water to the victim. "I'm really sorry," she repeats, offering a repentant grin to the other woman.

Oh, her skirts are well-splashed, there is no avoiding that; her legs are, too, presumably. Khulan's shoe is a lost cause and she makes her way to a bench to sit and take stock of the situation. And, along the way, she is quick to reply to the baker with, "No, no, saa. I should have paid more attention. This is not your fault." She's very firm on that point, with a shake of her head for further apologies. "It is just dirt, saa. Rukbat and the wind will take it away soon enough." But, the bucket and cloth are there and she murmurs, "Ah, thank you, saa," and starts working at her skirts to get the worst of it off of the cloth. When the assistant headwoman is heard - then spotted - the infirmary aide ducks her head to her in greeting, "Rukbat's blessings to you, saa-Magdaline. I am sorry if I splashed you."

Magdaline waves off the apologies as she skirts around the sand-puddle towards the bench and the girls where she can expect the damage. "I guess this is a time we're lucky to live surrounded by such sand. Easy enough to clean off. In Fort this time of year, good luck if you go out in anything besides boots!" There might be a lot of things the former Fortian misses about her old home, but constant drizzly autumn days are rarely one of them. There's a smile for both of them though. "No, you didn't Khulan. And your misfortune may have warned me. And for future reference, Dyre. I believe there's a patch of flowers in that corner of there that can usually use some excess water unless it has some lye in it." There was that one time that some candidates did dump the laundry water out there and that was a WHOLE different mess.

"I can confirm that," Dyre quips, laughing softly at the headwoman's talk about Fort and their less than preferable autumn conditions. "Your skirt though." All traces of humor dissipate from her face as her eyes drop down to the hem of Khulan's dirty garment. "I think Gremlda always suggests a nice soaking in a vinegar solution and letting it sit in the sun, if you can't get it out with just water," she helpfully suggests, but maybe the water and rag will do the trick without all of that extra work. "I think it did. I took out the cleaning water for the kitchen aides who were mopping the floor. I wouldn't want to kill the flowers," she replies, "there are so few of them to be seen around here, anyway!" There's another easy giggle and then she bends down, hands on her knees. "I'm Dyre, like headwoman Magdaline said. I think I've seen you around. You work in the-" She pauses, then snaps her fingers. "Infirmary, right?"

The infirmary aide strips off her shoe to study it, only to set it aside and remove the other one. Fortunately, the foot that got soaked was not the one she'd hurt some time ago; still, the big toe on one of Khulan's feet is bandaged. That's the least of the damage her feet have seen from the looks of it; those toes have clearly been busted seven days to the seventh day and both feet are practically calluses. It's only after a furtive check around that she hitches her skirts up enough to wipe her legs off. More scarring, likely from having walked through brambles and thorns. A lot. "Fort sounds like it would be an uncomfortable place to live. Is it also cold this time of year, saa?" The question is directed to both of the other women, a flicked look to one, then the other, before she resumes her task. "The skirts will survive," she decides and there is nothing more for her to say on the topic. Instead, with introductions at hand, she intones, "Yes, I do work there as an aide. Rukbat's blessings to you, saa-Dyre. I am called Khulan." Her accent is on the exotic side of Igenite, certain sounds coaxed out at peculiar angles.

"Not quite cold this time of year, but getting close. I do miss the snow sometimes though," Magdaline will admit, even if she just misses the snow as snow and not the springtime sludge which is another nightmare of a past life. For now though, instead of awkwardly hovering, she will settle down on the far side of the bench to watch as Khulan inspects her feet. "And the shoe?" That's genuine interest in the state of footware! Mag's own mud-free shoes are pretty pristine. She tilts her head as she hears the newest baker identify the infirmary aide right away. "I hope you're not burning your fingers so much that you're already a frequent flyer in the infirmary?" The horror! And if so, she'll probably need to find a better stock of oven mitts pronto!

"I always loved the first snow. You know I always believed," Dyre admits, with a giggle intermingling with her words, "When I was younger, that if you kissed someone during the first snow, they would be your forever love. I think I heard that from the Aunties." Storytime comes to an abrupt end then, with the baker's cheeks flushing slightly. She tries to cheer up Khulan anyway, smiling past her sudden reminiscence-related embarrassment. "It's nice to finally meet you, Khulan." Her eyes might linger a little longer than necessary on the aide's feet - perhaps she's checking out if her feet need a dip in the bucket, or she's intrigued by those calluses - but she quickly re-addresses the headwoman with a sunny smile. "One of the healer apprentices helped me carry some heavy cartons into the kitchen out of the goodness of their heart, so I swung by with a snack in the afternoon. I saw her storing supplies that day." A beat, a giggle. "I haven't burnt myself yet." Knock on wood, please.

The young woman clicks her tongue, only to be answered by two chirps. One blue head pops out of her scarf, bringing a dark, curled lock of hair with him; a gold's tail briefly drops out, only to retreat as the owner resettles. "The shoes were not in good shape to start," Khulan determines with a glance to Magdaline. "I would not wear them at all, but the infirmary is not safe for bare feet." She splays her crooked toes a bit, then touches them to the ground to test the temperature. Satisfied, she securely plants her feet down. The flats have definitely seen better days, long-stained and worn through in a few spots. Unimportant, really, as the talk about Fort and cold and snow swirls a bit and she tilts her head. "Snow?" She might have heard the word a time or two before, but without context, it's just a silly word. And, despite that, she's suddenly, keenly interested in Dyre's words about it. "Is the first snow so powerful?" She perhaps shouldn't be that serious, but- she's serious to the point of actually looking up and at Dyre with an intensity that might otherwise seem ill-placed in her. There's an absent nod to Dyre's recounting of things; it's likely she noticed the baker, too, though it takes her some moments to connect that fleeting glimpse with this person.

Magdaline wrinkles her brow as she sees the sad state of the poor shoe, and even sadder state of Khulan's poor feet! "You cannot work if you cannot stand! Before your next shift, please stop by the stores. It wouldn't do for anybody to think Igen doesn't properly care for our own. They won't be fancy, but we should have something that will do better than that." There's a brief tsk as she looks at the muddy shoe. The stores clothing may be plain and utilitarian, but it'll work. And then a smile as Dyre goes on about some snow beliefs. "Some aunties tell tales as good as any of the uncles. Although I guess if you find a snow in Igen it might be a bit special." And then a nod for confirmation that there hasn't been burning yet. "Well, that's a relief."

Shoes are certainly important, and she nods along in agreement to all of the headwoman's logical assertions. "And if you find the options too plain," Dyre inserts, sliding a cautious look at Magdaline, "they might have some scraps of ribbons in the weaver workrooms to make them look a little more special. If you'd like that, of course." She beams back at Khulan, seemingly genuinely happy to be able to provide that particular tidbit of information. "No, no," she laughs, waving her hands dismissively, some of her blush returning, "those are just silly stories that the aunties would tell the us kids to fill our heads with happy thoughts. I think. I haven't ever tested the theory." And about Igen: "That would absolutely be something special."

The feet- well. That's just living for the trader-born girl. Khulan ducks her head to the assistant headwoman with a compliant, "Of course, saa-Magdaline. Thank you, saa." Besides which, it's unlikely they'd even let her in the infirmary without shoes, so- the matter is, unfortunately, a forced one. She does look a bit bewildered at the further information offered by Dyre, though, and she shakes her head just a little. "Thank you, saa, but- perhaps plain is best for the work I do." She checks the bandage briefly to make sure it's secure, then looks back up again as something else isn't quite clarified enough. "What is snow?" The question is posed sheepishly, suddenly uncertain if she's missing something important - especially when it's clear that such a thing would be extra special in Igen. Which also brings with it a further deepening of her serious expression, what can be seen of it, anyway. "No, saa. It is best not to test certain things unless you are prepared for the consequences. Never ask for a fortune told until you are ready for the truth, my mother's mother would say."

"You know… you probably should have a spare pair of shoes as well. Never know what might get on your work shoes in the infirmary," And before Khulan can even protest, Magdaline is jotting down a note on her hide and tearing it off to give to her own sleepy little blue firelizard. "And if you want to decorate your non-work shoes, I won't tell anybody." Magdaline gives a wink to the infirmary aide before she then smiles at Dyre's confession. "Good. Probably best to focus on your studies for the moment. There will be plenty of time later." As for the question of snow, she blinks. "It's uhhh… snow. It's like rain, but colder. And frozen and can stick around all winter if it stays cold enough."

"You may have something there. It wouldn't do to sew little ribbons on your shoes, only to spill some icky ointments on them and ruin them." What a travesty that would be! Magdaline's suggestion has her perking up again, her hands coming together with a clapping sound. "That sounds like a great idea!" Dyre smiles wider, if that is possible. "Headwoman Magdaline has it right. Snow is like frozen water, but it isn't hard like ice. It's kind of soft- slushy? It melts when you hold it in your hand. And it piles up into tall piles when too much of it falls in the winter." After her explanation, she looks at the headwoman for confirmation, or approval, or a mixture of both. "Oh. Alright. I don't know any boys worth kissing and, I have been too busy settling in to think about that kind of future. I'll leave that for after I become a Master Baker," the last of which is said with plenty of youthful confidence.

She is very likely to protest, though there's only a slight stirring of veil to suggest that Khulan's opening her mouth to do just that. She shuts it a moment later when Magdaline writes that note and tears it off with such authority. "Yes, saa," is a concession to the older woman's decree, with a further ducking of her head. Any further discomfort is masked readily enough and the description of snow does plenty to shift her expression to something curious. Fortunately for all involved, Dyre's explanation is thorough and sufficient enough for her; she bobs her head again, as if committing all of that new information to memory, then reaches to collect her shoes. At least the wet one is drying out a bit already. Her head tips a bit, consideringly. "Will that be a long time for you, saa-Dyre?" She turns the shoes over in her hands, looking them over as if to determine if repairs can be made.

Authority comes with having that assistant's knot for long enough, and Magdaline does have enough turns under her belt to just exude it without question for the most part. She gives a satisfied nod as Khulan concedes. And then she smiles more as Dyre expands upon snow. "Plus, you can build snow holds or snow men or snow dragons…. although watch out for snowball fights." She actually laughs as Dyre exudes her own confidence. "That sounds as good a time as any!" Although Magdaline would probably accept the girl waiting until she achieves her journeyman's knot.

"Snow fights are so fun though," Dyre complains, smiling at Magdaline the whole time. "You can make balls with the snow. It lasts long enough without melting, especially with mittens, and you can throw it at your friends and try to hit them. They don't really hurt unless someone hides a rock inside. That is not fun at all." She plants her open palms squarely on her hips - or lack thereof - and makes a musing face up towards the sky. "It all depends how hard I work and if I pass my proficiences. It's a lot of work, but," she tucks her chin in and gives Khulan an impish smile, "I can do it. I might become Master by the time I'm forty-five." And the blaise way she presents that.. Well. Youth.

Everything she's hearing about this 'snow' is simultaneously wonderful and borderline horrifying for some reason, and Khulan isn't sure which is the better option. Khulan settles on a neutral nod to Magdaline, with a mild, "Perhaps I will see it someday." Which might as well be never, all things considered, but there is a curiosity there. It can't be helped. The shoes also can't be helped, but she keeps them in her lap for the time being, if only so she doesn't forget them later. There's a brief look to Magdaline, perhaps with some kind of question just at the tip of her tongue, but then Dyre says that and the once-trader-girl just stares at her, agog. She can't even muster words; the sheer size of her eyes says enough of the horror of that statement. And it's impossible to say which part of it horrifies her so thoroughly; quite literally, at the moment, as she must now try to make sense of it and that will take some time.

Magdaline wrinkles up her nose a bit at the mention of snow fights, trying to shake her head while also making a joking attempt to hide said shaking from Dyre. "You will, I'm sure. Eventually you'll have friends that are riders, surely. And some of them will love snow as well." She gives a nod at that and a broad grins at Dyre's ambitions. "Every girl should always have a plan." Said plans might not work out, but they should at least have one!

Everything that Dyre shares appears to excite the girl, even as she is busy retelling stories from her own experience. She might notice the aide's confusion, but she does not comment on it, nor on Magdaline's head shaking; her memories remain pleasant. "I know, but since I know it's getting cooler there, I can't help but miss the cooler weather when it's so hot here," she laments, as a young woman is wont to. It's a fleeting emotion, replaced easily with another smile. "I want to make people happy with my food. You know?" This, she asks of the two women.

The assistant headwoman's words are enough to pull Khulan out of her initial shock and she shivers just a little, with a small shake of her head that sets that loose lock of hair to bouncing a bit. She's quick to fix that problem once she's fully aware of it. "Maybe so, saa. But I am not sure I am so comfortable around the dragons." It's a sheepish admission, to be sure, but there it is. The other woman's further words elicit a thoughtful sound and a nod, though she doesn't offer anything up on her end; instead: "I should take care of this, saa. My apologies." But, she's stalled a bit when Dyre speaks again and she clicks her tongue consideringly. "That is an admirable thing to desire, saa. To make others happy is- yes, I think that is the best thing a person can do." A ghost of a smile flits into being, only to fade a breath later.

"If not this year, then the next. Or the year after that," Magdaline gives a tiny dismissive wave. "The dragons aren't going anywhere." Aside from when they are, but it's not like the weyr is going to be without dragons anytime soon! The queens are seeing to that. She gives a nod as the baker explains just why she bakes. "That is an admirable goal indeed. And its always better when people who care about our food make it." She smiles as Khulan gets up. "Remember, pick up a spare pair of shoes as well." She sent the note, but doesn't hurt to double check.

"Dragons can be nicer than people sometimes." The baker's admission is straight faced, with the hint of a smile at the very end. She folds her hands together in front of her flour-splattered apron, looking from one woman to the other. "Food is so much more than just nutrition. It's happiness, comfort, and for some of us, deeply rooted into our memories. I want everyone to be able to experience that. One day, I'll," and at that moment, the chatty apprentice is cut off by a shrill voice screaming her name from the kitchens. "Dyre! Where have you gotten yourself off to, girl!" Dyre's eyes widen, and she's making apologetic smiles at Khulan and Magdaline. "I should be assisting the head cook with dinner preparation. I forgot. I'm sorry, again, about your shoes!" One last smile and a wave is spared, and then off she sprints, disappearing soon within the darkened entryway of the kitchens.

"Yes, saa. Two pairs." Khulan even holds up two fingers as further confirmation to Magdaline. But of dragons? She just looks from one woman to the other with a shallow dip of her head, conceding to their knowledge - but perhaps not believing any of it. She's still tense and wary around them and their sheer hugeness and bestialness. "Rukbat light your way, saa," is tilted to both of them, in the end, and with a duck of her head, she hastens onward, barefoot - but much more comfortable for it.

"And clear skies to both of you," Magdaline will give a wave as both the girls depart. And now her break is over and her and that clipboard have a meeting with the actual headwoman. It's always best not to leave Cremla waiting!

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