Divale, Malosim


A storm has delayed usual routines, leaving Divale to cross paths with a Journeyman Miner in the Archives…


It is noon of the twenty-second day of the tenth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Archives, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 25 Apr 2018 04:00





A remarkable legacy for those with the eyes to appreciate it, Igen's Archives are modest, in proportion to the weyr's similarly modest status; but though they be small, the room itself is mighty, with grandiose portent to the high, vaulted arches. These walls hold many treasures past their prime, from instruments to examples of older flying gear and agenothree tanks. The meticulous task of re-scribing old records is continually ongoing, with faded and disued hides replaced on a daily basis. The chairs and off-kilter tables seem to be heritage of a time long past, not in line with the rest of the vision of this room; but in all weyrs are budgets, and perhaps you've found one of Igen's budget cuts.

There's no mystery about the source of the howling and wailing going on in the desert today; one of Igen's ubiquitous sandstorms is in full swing right now. No surprise there, considering the habits of autumn at the desert Weyr. It's a good thing Malosim's duties keep him inside so often. For today however, those duties find him in an uncommon spot: deep in the bowls of the Weyr proper, pressed up against a wall between the stacks in the archives. With the rash of reports of strange noises coming from various places lately, the Miners and Smiths have been a bit more popular over the past seven, entertaining all manner of questions and requests from various folk trying to get to the bottom of it. The young Journeyman has his theories…which is why he's currently plastered to stone with what looks remarkably like a funnel stuck in his ear as he listens against it, a rubber-headed mallet hanging from his fingers in the other hand.

Of all the curiosities to stumble upon, Divale will be adding this one to her list. Her steps are quiet and measured, as she makes her slow approach to where Malosim is plastered against the wall. The storm has brought her inside as well and the Archives are a familiar haunting ground; if only occasionally does she grace them with her presence. She is content not to interrupt the Journeyman’s work and will find a suitable spot in which to lurk and likely unseen for the moment. Why ruin the fun? It’s not like she is needed immediately elsewhere! Thanks to that storm, her duties are on temporary suspension until the sand and winds die down. And since it seems as though he is investigating the same thing? She will wait, patiently and see if he happens upon a fortunate answer!

Sometimes someone coming quietly into a room proves to be startling. Others, one can feel themselves being watched first. For Malosim, it's more the latter this time, but his little listening cone also lets him hear the subtle tread of careful feet entering the room, even where his ears alone wouldn't necessarily allow it. Then he senses himself being watched. After a long moment, he smirks and starts to unbend. "Didn't take you for the lurking sort, Master Ki- oh." Having straightened, he finally looks down the line of the stacks to find someone who's decidedly not the Weyrharper watching him. "Sorry…wingsecond." He has to squint a little to discern her knot in the dimmer light where he is, and gives her a little bow. "Journeyman Malosim, Minecraft. Did you need to get by?"

Divale’s amusement is kept to a small, fleeting shadowed smile but once ‘caught’ and addressed, she will step forwards and more into the light. She doesn’t bow, but her head lowers in a respectful nod all the same. “I do not,” she replies in her usual lowered tones and quiet voice. “I am merely here to observe and did not intend to disturb you. I thought I was being cautious in my approach!” Another vague smirk, before she reverts back to formalities. “Divale,” she murmurs. “Parhelion Wingsecond, brown Lukoith’s rider. So… Journeyman Malosim. What do you make of these reports?’

"You were, but you'd be surprised what you can pick up with a little help," Malosim replies with a little grin, holding up his funnel and waggling it in his fingers. "My duty to you and Lukoith, wingsecond Divale. So, these reports…" He saunters a bit closer, carefully leaning on the upright of a stack and shoving a hand through slightly over-long brown hair, making it stick up a bit. He doesn't notice, of course, folding his arms over his chest as his expression turns pensive. "Honestly, doesn't seem too out of the ordinary to me. Everything shifts when the temperature changes: wood floors creak, hinges stop or start squeakin', even rock can start groanin' about everything when it gets cool and shrinks. Or heats up and expands. Igen's a particularly good place for those extremes. I think that's what people are hearin'. But." He emphasizes this with a flare of his fingers, dark, level brows popping upward. "There are other possibilities. Like breakdown. Which doesn't seem likely with how thick the Weyr walls are, but better to make sure." He peers at the brownrider then, head tilting subtly in curiosity. "You heard anything?" The noises themselves, rumors about what's causing them - he isn't specific, but certainly wondering about both.

The funnel that Malosim holds up is given a cursory look and Divale’s eyes will betray her actual curiosity over the instrument; her expression remains, as ever, neutral. “That amplifies sound?” she asks, before her mouth sets in a grim line as he gives his version of events. “Mhm. So it’s highly probable that this is all natural in cause? And that any of the reports of wailing and screaming are either fanciful elaborations or… not related.” That brings a heavy, darker frown and it’s her turn to look deeply pensive for a moment. His query catches her a little off guard and she will stare at him for a moment in nothing but shadowed silence. “I’ve heard the knocking and tappings. Mostly down in the cellars and store rooms but I’ve not heard of any of the other phenomena.” Taking a small step forwards, she will reach out to lightly place her hand flat against the thick stone wall. “If I were you? I’d not mention the ‘breakdown’ theory, even if highly impossible. Don’t want folks taking that and blowing it out of proportion…” She shakes her head, lowering her hand as she steps back again.

Malosim nods to Divale's first, spinning the funnel between thumb and forefinger a bit. He starts doing the same to her next, but the mention of wailing and screaming halts the motion, warm brown eyes narrowing curiously. "Might be dealin' with tunnelsnakes, too, though it seems to me that wouldn't be worrying anyone too much; it's not uncommon in such places." Her last earns a smirk. "Good thing you don't seem to be the sort to do that yourself. I can see the sense in not lettin' it get around, though. About that screaming and such…" Dark brows drop a bit, a slight crease made more prominent by the scar between them when it forms. "I'd heard people were only hearing all that out in the direction of the desert. Is that somethin' they've been hearing here, too? Because that…really would be weird." Not quite so easy to explain, then!

“Tunnel snakes? Perhaps that explains the scratchings but I’ve never heard a ‘snake wail or scream!” Divale dryly remarks, with her usual smirk well in place. She chuckles low and gruffly, while glancing sidelong to Malosim as her interests seemingly turn to the various shelves nearby. “There is little left in this world that truly unsettles me; at least long enough to merit much concern. Others, however — I think we could all benefit from not having panic spread, hmm?” As for the sources, she will nod her head. “Correct. The wailing and screaming is outside of the Weyr itself. Last I heard, anyways? If there was any howling going on in here, most would immediately brush it off as the winds outside.” Perhaps not so strange, either! But it could be Divale’s not privy to all reports. Her gaze continues to roam over the shelves, though she doesn’t stray very far from where Malosim stands. “… You mentioned settling stone? Some of the knockings I’ve heard remind me of the Underground — Kurkar Hold, that is,” she corrects herself. “And whether above or below, I suppose it’s much of the same?”

As if on cue, a high, faint wail trails off the end of Divale's words, and Malosim cants his head to listen. "Like that?" he asks with a tilted bit of a grin. It's clearly from the storm without, catching some tiny, unseen vent in the stone somewhere. "If all that's coming from outside the Weyr, I'd guess animals. Plenty out in the sands that we don't see, I'm sure. Though I can't be the first to think that, so, unless the animals have been ruled out somehow…" That's his guess. "Heard some traders talking about one of those meeting points out on their desert routes that's near some sand dunes that actually hum or moan or somethin' when they shift just right. Maybe it's something like that?" Mention of Kurkar piques his interest. "Haven't had the chance to visit there, myself. And yeah, wouldn't much matter where you're hearin' it; the cause is the same. Did anyone ever find the cause out there, or did they just leave it be?"

Divale cants her head in order to hear the tail end of the faint wailing and manages a fleeting half smile. “Yes, like that,” she confirms. “And plenty of those reports we’ve dismissed. Animal or not, that no one has found the exact source to the vocals out in the desert has some folk unsettled. Funny that you bring up that location… I know of it, and one other. Perhaps they are worthwhile to investigate, if those particular phenomena continue.” Grimacing again, she’ll stop and turn to face Malosim directly, her expression unreadable. “It was largely ignored. We had… bigger concerns than the strange sounds those deep tunnels and caverns could make. So long as it wasn’t sounding like the place was about to collapse on our heads.” she grimly points out. Another silent, thoughtful spell has her glancing back towards the Archive doors. “The storm is lessening. I should prepare to return to my duties. There’s… nothing else you could impart on this? Professionally or personally.” On and off record!

Well, now Mal is even more curious, of course. Poking around out in the desert might not yield much for a Miner…but there is more than sand out there, geographically speaking. And he's just a curious guy anyway. He nods to Divale's answer about Kurkar, then changes tack to shake his head over her last. "Nothing else yet," he qualifies with a smirk. "I haven't been in here that long, and I've got a couple more rooms to go poke around today. But, uh…if you're interested in what I find, wingsecond, I don't mind sharin' afterward, if I find anything interesting."

Unfortunately, if Malosim is looking to pry more information about Kurkar Hold, it will have to be for another day! Divale’s smile returns, vague and dark as always. “There is much that interests me,” she answers cryptically. “But if you do discover something of immediate concern, it’d be better to go through the correct ranks first. As much as I am curious over how the natural shift and expansion of stone can cause so much of a stir…” Dipping her head respectfully, she’ll begin to turn to walk away. “Clear skies, Journeyman Malosim.”

"Good day to you, Wingsecond Divale," Malosim returns, and turns back to the wall…though he watches the brownrider's retreat curiously for a bit. "There's a thick shell," he observes under his breath, just to give himself something else to hear before he goes back to listening to the stone around him for a while. He'll be a while poking about the bowels of the Weyr, but at least he's got curiosity beyond his orders to drive him now!

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