Who

Idara, Novi, Tresquil, Ulrika, Violine

What

A tale in three parts: The latest Healer to the Weyr finds a guide to the living cavern, breakfast is had with some Candidates and another Healer, and it ends with two Candidates talking about maps.

When

-- On Pern --
It is 8:28 AM where you are.
It is midmorning of the twenty-fifth day of the sixth month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Southern:
It is the twenty-fifth day of Winter and 50 degrees. Still dark and overcast, the winter rain has picked up and become heavier, albeit still pleasant.


Where

Southern Weyr, Lower Bowl

OOC Date 12 Mar 2019 04:00

 

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"Ah, there is a nursery? A nursery for dragons - what a splendid image!"


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Lower Bowl

Cobblestones sweep as far as the eye can see, a unique feature to the lower section of the bowl — but necessary, perhaps, as the stepped western bowl drains off into this high-trafficked area. The shallow bowl is bounded by craggy-black bowlwall with entrances pockmarked - and some boarded over in an effort to prevent entry from un-renovated caverns. Directly south, the wall neatly crumbles away to roll southerly into rollicking fields of soft hills; a glance of the stables can be seen through the gap, nestled against the entrance bridge that spans westward.

It is the twenty-fifth day of Winter and 50 degrees. Still dark and overcast, the winter rain has picked up and become heavier, albeit still pleasant.


Mid-morning, and the Southern winter weather hasn't got any better, but at least right now there's a brief pause in the rain, though it's still gloomy under the heavy cloud cover. The bowl is busy with dragons and riders coming and going - an entire wing returning from drill in the distance; a sweeprider setting off closer to the living caverns. Trequil emerges from the tunnel that leads to the crafters' area, takes a few strides into the Bowl, and stops, then turns slowly as if taking in the view. His head tilts back as he looks up at the Bowl walls nearest to him - and up, and up. The other side of the Bowl requires less neck-craning, but he's definitely go the look of a sight-seer, staring at dragons and doorways and ledges and pretty much everything else he notices. He's dressed in a thick woollen jacket that gives at least some protection against the cold, though little against rain. There are smart trousers and shoes underneath. He frowns and surveys the visible doorways again.

All she wanted to do, really, was go hunt down a sparring partner to spend some time before lessons started. But most of her early morning efforts were wasted and Ulrika's forced to redirect her focus elsewhere. She's in shorts, a white undershirt, and an overshirt; it does little to protect her from the cold and nothing at all to shield her from the rain that seems to perpetually fall on the area. She makes her way across the bowl, cutting along at an angle that has her passing by the crafter's complex on her way to the living caverns. The former guard slows her purposeful stride when she spots an unfamiliar face emerging from it. She slows further, though not quite stopping, as she offers a salute and a called, "You picked a fine time to peek out, Sir. Looking for something?"

Tresquil draws himself up to his full height, which still leaves him several inches shorter than Ulrika. "I'm looking for practically everything at the moment. I arrived late last night, and the place looks quite different in daylight. I know where my room is, and I think I can find my way back to the Infirmary - but I've no idea where to get something to eat, or where I might find a desk for my room. I would really appreciate it it you could point me in the direction of breakfast." He's come the long way round, apparently.

Ulrika doesn't precisely stop moving, though she does stop moving forward, at least. Just a slow shifting of weight from one side to the other to keep warm. "Aye, well. The stores are about picked clean by now," she replies with a lift of her chin in the general direction of the barracks some distance away. "Candidates have nearly taken over the Weyr and are sleeping on anything everything they can get a blanket and pillow on," gauging from the white knot, she definitely ranks among their number, though it's unlikely that she's one of the more desperate types. "But, I can show you where to get a meal and maybe help you wrestle a desk away from one of the Headwoman's Assistants." The Istan tilts her head, indicating an opening further down the bowl. "Follow me, Sir. I'm Ulrika."

"Tresquil. Journeyman Healer." His eyes rest on the white knot for a moment, then he moves in the direction Ulrika is indicating. "That would be very helpful. And are you one of those candidates, Ulrika?" Yes, he's brand new to Weyrs. "It sounds as if they've Searched more than the facilities can cope with, from what you say. Why do they do that? I'm glad there was no difficulty in finding me a room - even if the furnishings are rather sparse."

"Well met, Tresquil." Ulrika nods firmly to that, though there's a slight tilt of her head at his questions. "Aye, I am. Formerly a guard," which likely explains plenty on its own. She starts moving forward again, leading the way with a touch of haste; there's a break in the rain now, but who knows how long that will last. "In fairness, Sir, there is no way to account for two golds laying so closely together - and for there to be almost a hundred eggs between them. The Weyr needs the dragons - and dragons need riders." Her tone is informative, decidedly matter-of-fact about it. "Better that the dragons have plenty to pick from than not enough. You might well be in the room of a current Candidate," she adds with a brief, if crooked, grin. "Where are you from?"

That question takes Tresquil a little by surprise. "The Healer Craft," is his first attempt. "Originally, South Telgar Hold. I've had postings since I last lived there, though." The details aren't offered, and his lips tighten. "That does seem a large number. I imagine all those eggs are very welcome. So they move candidates who have rooms into other rooms that don't have room for them? I'm not entirely sure I understand the reason for that." Of course he doesn't. But he has a theory! "Or is it viewed as some kind of apprenticeship? Someone with a room on my corridor would be more senior, though…." He frowns deeply: something is offending his sense of what's due to rank.

The guard-Candidate cuts a look askance to Tresquil for that, a fleeting look that's just enough for her to size him up and put some pieces together. Ulrika doesn't pry, but the particulars are definitely filed away for future review. "Aye, they're very welcome, and I'm sure the Headwoman is glad to have all those extra hands." She shrugs, and proceeds a-pace, listening to him spin his wheels with that theory before she eventually replies, "It's solidarity, partly. To get all of the Candidates acclimated to sharing living space and to work together. It doesn't always work out well; too many personalities in a small space can be tricky." She slows as they approach the living cavern, "But, weyrlings have to learn to work together and this is to prepare us for that. Can't really get to know and work with your fellow Candidates if you have separate quarters. Guards do it the same way, so it's not so strange to me. I've heard that some crafts do the same with their Apprentices - put them all in a set of quarters. Do the Healers?" Once at the caverns, she motions for him to go first, "After you, Sir."

Tresquil is having to stretch his legs to keep up with Ulrika. "Yes, we do, though I think the reasons are largely practical. We have a lot of apprentices, and they all share rooms or dormitories - it was very unpleasant until I got used to it, and I know what you mean about the problems. In the end, I suppose it had it's advantages. Still, it's a great day when you walk the tables and are entitled to your own space. Don't the dragonriders have their own quarters, though? Their weyrs, I should say?" Use terminology that's familiar to the patient, journeyman.

There's a slow, thoughtful nod to that, with Ulrika sucking her teeth a bit. "Mm. It's about the same, then," she reasons. There's a low chuckle for his last, though, and she nods again, the gesture a bit more animated. "Aye. When the dragons are old enough, they're moved to their own weyrs. But that's not for a time. They need to be old enough to fly, at least, and that's a fair ways away considering the dragons aren't hatched yet." She considers for a moment, briefly glancing at the sky before looking back to Tresquil. "It'll be good to have another skilled Healer around, though. That many eggs and that many nervous people - someone might get hurt out there. It happens, from time to time. Have you ever seen a Hatching at all, Sir?"

"Ah, there is a nursery? A nursery for dragons - what a splendid image!" Tresquil smiles at that, quite delighted at the thought. "And they live there with their riders? Of course they do! How could they be separated, after all." Light is dawning! "A Hatching? I've not had that privilege - but I hope to do so now. Or two, perhaps, as there are two clutches. And if there are injuries, then of course I shall be happy to assist. I plan to specialise in trauma - repairing injuries." There's something a touch smug about that last statement. He glances up, as Ulrika has done, and quickens his pace even more.

And there's the entrance, yawning wide with the smells of food wafting forth. There's a fair bit of traffic, of course, considering the hour and fact that the skies aren't presently spilling rain hither and thither. Ulrika tilts her head toward the caverns proper and motions, "After you, Sir," she'll follow, as is only appropriate. "Aye, well. Maybe they'll hatch all at once, but it's hard to say. They laid their eggs a few days apart, so it's possible. But, aye, it's a nursery of sorts, the weyrling barracks. It's where they stay while they get larger and learn how to do their duties. It's more work for the riders than their lifemates at the start, from my understanding." The guard-Candidate clicks her tongue against her teeth in thought. "How much experience have you had with repairing injuries? What sorts do you usually deal with?"

"My last-" Tresquil presses his lips together before correcting himself. "One of my recent postings was in Keroon. Falling off runnerbeasts was a popular way to get hurt there." He seems quite enthusiastic as he enumerates: "Broken limbs and ribs, and occasionally backs and necks, though those tend to prove fatal. Sharp and blunt trauma caused by hooves - I'm sure you can imagine. And the usual run of domestic and farm accidents, of course. One man sliced part of his foot off with a harrow - I'm still not entirely sure how he managed that, but we managed to stem the blood loss and make a neat scar. I've not seen much Threadscore yet, though." He stops talking long enough to make his way through the door into the Living Cavern. "And you are hoping to Impress a dragon?"

Living Caverns

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Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in a naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophobia. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about, candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next to the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the Weyr's youngest. The rich blue of the Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.

There's a low whistle of awe for that recounting, with Ulrika shaking her head a little. She follows Tresquil in and, only then, does she resume speaking, "Seems a nasty way to go, falling off a runnerbeast or getting trampled. Losing part of a food like that, too-" she trails off with a sharp shake of her head as if that will get the mental images out. It's not very effective. "Worst I've experienced are some breaks here and there. Threadscore is nasty, aye, but I don't think it bleeds much." Small blessing, that. "Food's on those tables there," she adds, gesturing as appropriate. "Take as you like." His question isn't ignored, though it does take Ulrika a moment to answer. When she does, it's with a slight furrow to her brow as she puzzles out the best way to articulate it. "Hope doesn't factor into it for me, Sir. Some Candidates have dreamed of Standing their whole lives. For me- it's duty. I was asked to Stand, so here I am. Whether the dragons see fit to have me serve as a rider, that's another story."

Maybe the living caverns isn't the place to find peace and quiet - but compared to the barracks, with its ever-growing population, it's practically a haven. Enjoying the end of her reprieve before her work starts for the day, Idara is sat at one of the tables near the entrance, poring over a hide before her. A mug of klah steams gently nearby. She notices Ulrika's entrance, and with an unfamiliar man, no less - and so she'll reach for her mug, sipping as she watches the pair.

"Duty." Tresquil nods; that's something he does understand - or at least, he's imbibed the traditional point of view with his mother's milk. "Very proper. Dragonriders are honoured for their sacrifices." He looks at the indicated food, then looks round the cavern, trying to work out the system. "Self-service? And is there somewhere I should sit - or not sit?" He smiles, eyes twinkling, and seems to relax a little. "I'd hate to find I'd taken the Weyrleader's assigned seat, or something."

"Aye. And there's much that they sacrifice for all of us. It's an honor to Stand, regardless," Ulrika replies. As to Tresquil's questions, there's nod and she points out a few tables as well, "Aye, self-service here. You'll like as not want to avoid those seats, there, but it's mostly fair game. Some Weyrs are a little more structured with their seating, but I've not seen it there." Idara's spotted after a moment, though, and she offers her fellow Candidate a semi-salute, a gesture of familiar greeting that isn't quite formal - but still looks formal, because of course. "Mind having some company, Idara?"

Idara doesn't even pretend to not be watching Ulrika and this mystery man with her - she lowers her klah and smiles over when the other candidate greets her. "Of course not. You and your friend." She turns blue eyes on the stranger, smile growing a touch sweeter. "I'm afraid I don't know your name? I'm Idara." There's no offer of a hand to shake, just that bright smile aimed at him.

"Tresquil. Journeyman healer." Tresquil doesn't offer a handshake either, but he does manage a tight smile and a courtly little half-bow. He turns to Ulrika. "Thank you, that's most helpful. I would have been wandering like a lost lamb all morning without your help." And to Idara, whose shoulder he scans with a single well-aimed glance: "And you are also a candidate?" A further brief glance around the cavern shows other females with white knots. "So many ladies. Do you Stand only for the gold egg, or is this a less traditional Weyr in that regard?" Whatever else he's been told or not told about the clutches, he knows about that egg!

Violine arrives in her usual manner of klah-obtaining single-mindedness. She does sweep the area for the nine billion candidates that seem to do nothing but get underfoot in their constant attempt to be overly helpful. She has had to yell… a lot… directly at them… so she can actually hold onto her flatware and mug before they're prematurely nabbed for washing. Luckily she had an early breakfast before her shift and so she's just after the stimulant. Ladling herself some klah, she doctors it up a bit before turning her attention to the cavern at large. Ulrika is spotted immediately, a candidate she actually likes, and so she begins moving in her direction. The company she keeps is unknown to her, and upon seeing Idara's knot she loses interest immediately and moves her gaze to the young man. His stature, hair, bearing, and general person is taken in, and as she hears the tail end of his response to the candidates, there's a hitch in her step. Wait. Wait a minute. New to the Weyr. Fits the description of… for shards sake. She moves to Ulrika's other side and settles herself and a very narrow glance at the opposing healer. "You must be Tresquil."

"Aye, there you go. The stores are down that way," Ulrika motions toward the inner caverns, "but, as I said, you'll have a time trying to get things you need. It'll be easier once the eggs have hatched and things have settled. But the library might do, if you need a quiet space to work." Idara's commentary is noted, though there's a slight upward quirking of one eyebrow at something. "He's new here," she explains and the Healer's well on his way to introduce himself, which should clear things up neatly. The guard-Candidate reaches to try to gently clap a hand on Tresquil's shoulder as she breaks away for a moment - though she doesn't get too far before she hears that question. "I think they're just happy to have all of us to Stand at all, Sir. Some might be here for the gold egg, but-" she shrugs and glances to Idara briefly with a questioning look before looking back to Tresquil. "Not all of us are. Do either of you want anything?" The growl of her stomach is warning enough that she needs something and badly. But not so badly that her manners will suffer for it; Violine's appearance is impossible to miss and she offers the other Healer a salute by way of greeting before she slides into position, with Ulrika in the middle. That narrow glance from one Healer to the other isn't missed, though all she can do is cut a sidelong look to each of them in turn.

Idara likes that half bow. Very gentlemanly. "I am," she confirms his question, with barely-concealed pride. "Southern has - many women who rider fighting dragons." She offers up the information happily enough, though conveniently hasn't directly answered Tresquil's query about what eggs they Stand for. Ulrika's looks are noticed, but ignored. Another unfamiliar face appears, though the newcomer seems to know of Tresquil. "I don't believe I've met you, either?" She asks Violine pointedly, flashing her a smile that's more toothy than it needs to be. She looks at the knot at Violine's shoulder. A look at Tresquil's. Ah. Healer business for those two, then. She lifts her mug again, sipping as she both watches the interactions between the three, all lined up together as they are, and waits to see what Violine might reply with.

Tresquil beams at Violine, identifying her as a fellow-crafter with a dart of the eyes to he shoulder. "I am indeed, Senior Apprentice…?" Before she can answer, though, he responds to the candidates. "Ah, so you are permitted to Stand for the others too? Interesting, the difference in policies. And thank you, perhaps I'll leave securing furniture for now. I'll go and see what food's on offer in a moment, though." He raises his hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn. "Please excuse me. My body still thinks it's the middle of the night."

Violine is not thrown by his polite, accommodating manner, and charming newly-arrived yawn. Not a chance. This particular Sr. Apprentice can't help but notice that this new Journeyman is basically her age, and out ranks her. There's a look she throws to Ulrika that says: 'you see?! this is what happens when you can't heal a firelizard correctly, you stay a Sr. Apprentice forever!' Or, you know, that's what she's attempting to convey. Mostly it just looks like a lot of eyebrow wiggling and nose scrunching and a clearing of her throat dramatically. As for the double interest in her name, she looks over at Idara, noting her toothy smile with some amusement, before she shifts her eyes back to Tresquil. "Violine." She takes a long sip of klah before she darts another look at Idara. "I bet you're hoping for gold though, huh?" Subtlety is not something Vio is particularly versed in, nor cares much about. She shrugs, giving the girl a bit of a reprieve after a beat. "I mean, isn't that what all little white-knotted girls dream of?" See? Universal assumptions. Nothing personal here.

There's a slight shrug for that, with Ulrika replying to Tresquil with, "I'd say it would be hard not to, with so many eggs. The dragons choose as they will, regardless of what the Candidates may want." The man's yawn is enough to compel the guard-Candidate to step back slightly, to give him some space to move past. "Aye, plenty of klah to be had, too, if that's to your liking. I've heard it's decent enough here." And while she glances briefly at Idara, her attention is caught by Violine's shifting expressions. Hers is equally mute, but straightforward: 'are you okay'. She might have articulated the query as well, but as the female Healer speaks, things take a sharp left turn into territory that the tall blonde will have no part in. "I'll be right back," she says, though whether as an assurance to Violine or some manner of warning is hard to say. She is going to get food, at least.

Is the female healer okay? She certainly seems to be pulling some odd faces. Well, nothing that Idara is going to concern herself with asking about. "Aren't all girls?" She replies smoothly to Violine's blunt statement. She slides a look at Ulrika…to see the taller candidate leaving. Another sip of klah as she watches the woman's back, before turning attention back to Tresquil, with interest. "Oh? Where is it you came from?"

Tresquil chooses to interpret Idara's question as he sees fit. "I've just come from another posting, via the Healer Hall at Fort. Travelling by dragon is a privilege, but a remarkably sudden way of getting from one place to another." He has half an eye on the room, and his head rises like an attentive avian as he spots a certain knot. He may never have seen the white variety before today, but those of his own craft are an open hide to him. "Is that Master Varden? I'd better go and introduce myself. Do excuse me, ladies." With another of those little half-bows, this time directed to nobody in particular, he departs, and winds his way across the room towards the Weyrhealer.

Violine is decidedly annoyed at how unflustered that made Idara. She does note the sudden distance from Ulrika and pulls it back a bit for the young woman's benefit. The look she receives from the previous guard is met with a little hand wave of dismissal. She's fine. Just, competitive. As Tresquil leaves, Vio looks sullen and continues to sip at her klah, clutching the mug between her palms as she rolls it absentmindedly back and forth.

It's like a magic trick, really. As soon as Ulrika gets food, suddenly she's festooned with firelizards. Or, rather, she's festooned by two young firelizards, but they're all wings and tail and flashiness, which makes it seem more chaotic than it is. She returns to where Violine and Tresquil and Idara were, only to find that Tresquil is gone. She's able to track his course briefly, but that's as far as her interest goes. Her plate is a boring assembly of meats, eggs, and some fruit for color - and with a previous offer still standing to join Idara, regardless, she'll take a seat opposite her fellow Candidate and motion for Violine to join them. "What was that about all girls?" It's a risky play, but she'll take it now that she has food in front of her.

Just as the mention of Fort is there, and Idara's interest reaches new heights…Tresquil goes. "Well met," she bubbles as he takes his leave. Back to Violine. There's a twist to the blonde's lips as she looks at the healer again. The change in her behaviour gets no comment, but the slight smirk on Idara's face remains as Ulrika returns and takes a seat. As she sits, Idara rises, collecting her mug, and the long-forgotten hide and pencil. "Enjoy your breakfast," she says to Ulrika, while Violine gets a, "well met, Violine," before Idara trots off, shaking out her hair as she departs.

Having been shoo'd out of the kitchens, and told to not return until she's eaten something Novi has little choice but to make her way to where the food is set out. She's already protested that she isn't hungry, but the cook isn't hearing any of it and stands in the doorway watching with a stern look. Fine. Novi will collect a small plate, put something on it, and then get some klah. She can take this time to study perhaps? Or not, there are other candidates in the living caverns and Novi gravitates towards the small cluster, "Mind if I join you?" is asked before she settles down with her small plate of whatever she could grab. Mostly fruit, but there is a small slice of bread there as well.

Violine watches Idara go, eyes narrowed. "I don't think I like her." Which isn't a surprise, considering Violine doesn't like any candidates, barring a very few. Luckily, one of those few happens to be seated across from her, and that bronze lizard is back, garnering a little coo of admiration from the healer. Ebbe is watched for a bit before Violine glances up at the newcomer and her mouth drops open. "Not you too." Nova's white knot is stared at with open hostility. Is no person off limits?! Her fingers slowly begin rubbing between her eyes in exasperation as she starts questioning why she got klah instead of wine. She can't even look at Novi right now.

The departure of Idara is noted and Ulrika offers a farewell to the other Candidate, even as yet another joins the table. "Aye, sit, as you like, Novi; plenty of space for once." It's not due to last long, though, and when lunch rolls in, it'll be impossible to find a space to sit. Fortunately for all involved, Hemming is only interested in what the former guard has on her plate. Ebbe, on the other hand, is being admired and, what's worse, he knows it. He chirps brightly at Violine and snitches some bacon from Ulrika's plate to drag, oh-so-helpfully, over to the Healer. Ulrika cuts a look askance to Violine for her utterance and she can't help but chuckle a little. She doesn't comment at all on the Healer's like or dislike of that particular Candidate, though; it's not her place. Instead: "Aye, well. Give it a few sevens and there'll not be a white knot in sight." As if that will make it better.

If it's any consolation to Violine, Novi's done her best to keep to the beach. Someplace she's familiar, and happy with. This is the first time she's been assigned to the kitchen, and she's not happy about being made to take a break to eat when she isn't hungry. She'll get fat with that kind of thing happening, and a fat dolphineer just isn't a thing that should ever be allowed. For Violine's distaste, Novi simply shrugs, "It's only for a little bit, and I'm bound to return to my normal duties once all is said and done," well maybe not, but one never knows with such things. Ulrika is given a nod, "Aye, there's that. I almost don't have time for my studies with everything that we're expected to do," but she does manage it, "Fortunate for me a hammock doesn't take up much space, and is compactable enough to stow in a rucksack. Getting crowded in the barracks."

Oh, it will make it better. Because some of them will go home, and others will be busy with dragonets and unable to annoy the bejesus out of Violine on a daily basis. And Faranth help the next candidate who comes into that infirmary and makes a mess of things. She can heal people… particularly people she hurts first. Ebbe's bacon is taken and immediately shredded nicely into bitable pieces as she offers a scrap up to the bronze, the other hand poised to rub his little eye ridges. At Novi's realistic take on candidacy, she manages to at least look at the girl. Well, alright then. "How'd that class go, by the way?" Remember the last time they talked? When they bonded over how annoying candidates are? Sigh. At least a little follow up is Vio's version of a peace offering. "My firelizard class did not go well." She's secretly hoping Novi also had a rough experience for commiseration purposes.

Novi sighs, "It could have gone better. Some of the apprentices were just not listening at all, and one or two may have wound up in the infirmary with dislocated shoulders," ah yes, the fun of swimming with dolphins offers up its own hazards, "I was Searched shortly after that, so now I do chores no one else seems to like," like cleaning the boardwalk, and beach. Not that Novi wasn't already pulling such chores already mind.

Ebbe munches on the offered bacon bits and croons, somehow managing to do both of those things and press into Violine's attentions without skipping a beat. If Violine's not quick enough to rub his eyeridges, he'll even lean up into them, though all of that gets a bit of side-eye from Ulrika. The guard nods once to Novi, and agrees with, "Aye. I'm planning on the same. One barracks or another, it doesn't matter to me either which way." She just wants it to be over, though there's no overt trace of impatience in her tone. There's a faint grunt to Novi for her hammock talk - envious? Maybe a little - but then she's lapsing into silence to eat her food before Hemming decides to steal any of the pieces she wanted to eat.

Violine snort-laughs. "Wait, those dislocated shoulders were from your class?" Her laughter is tamped down by a look of muddled sympathy and appreciation. See? Commiseration. It's a beautiful thing. "Well, the amount of scratches I left with after that firelizard clinic was spectacularly unprofessional." She really rubs into those little firelizard head grooves as she offers the last meaty bit to Ebbe. Somewhat reluctantly she pulls back and downs the last of her klah. "Alas girls, I've got to get back and check on some shoulder-compromised patients." She chuckles again, she's kidding, mostly. "See you, and remember, don't be one of them." She points to the swarming white knots trying to nab plates and glasses from poor, innocent weyrfolk just trying to eat. Clearing her throat with observational distaste, she sweeps herself back the way she came, a little more caffeinated.

Novi chuckles as Violine makes her exit, "No. I won't be one of those. Sharding wherrybrained the lot of 'em. One even pinched my klah right out of my hand as I was trying to get a sip," she's not going to let that one go at all, "So where do you go next?" asked of Ulrika, maybe Novi can just skip out of the rest of her chores and go some place less crowded?

And there are a lot of those Candidates to be had. It's enough to give Ulrika a headache. "Aye, hope you have a good rest of your day," she calls after Violine as the Healer departs. Ebbe looks dejected once there's no more food or attention to be had, but he'll live. Maybe. Her attention turns ot Novi after that and she sucks her teeth thoughtfully. "I'm supposed to have lessons in a bit, but it's just more of the same and I think they'll let me out of that. After lunch, it's scrubbing dragons, though with the rain as it is, I doubt they'll have much need."

Novi nods, "I'm supposed to helping in the kitchen, but there's already so many candidates in there it's almost claustrophobic," she shudders just a little, "Maybe I can find a quiet place in the archives, or stores to catch up on my studies," she sounds hopeful at that prospect.

There's a moment of consideration, then Ulrika nods. "Too many cooks is bad enough in there. I can't imagine too many Candidates." She finishes wolfing her food down, a skill that's been honed from turns of dealing with brothers and guards and the need to be ready to go at a moment's notice. "Just ask the head cook and see. I'm sure they'll let you off to go study. I'll meet you in the library, if you can?" Since she has plenty of her own studying to see to, even if she's able to get out of the remedial reading and writing lessons.

Novi nods, "I'll have to do that. I really need to keep up with my studies," The food on her plate is largely ignored, "Truthfully, I'm not hungry. Cook insisted I had to eat though," she's not sure why? Novi sips the klah in her mug, and then she's giving a more definitive nod, "I'll do that. I need to make sure I know the channels around Southern," she never did get that exam as she'd been Searched before she could, "I can also get a start on antiquities," again she's veering dangerously close to being boring.

Ulrika chuckles again. "That's cooks for you. They all fuss about it." She pushes to her feet and takes her empty plate, with a hand offered to take Novi's plate as well. "I'll find someone that wants it," she assures. There's a slight tilt of her head while the Dolphineer seems to build her resolve, with a slow, crooked grin manifesting on the guard's face. "Aye? Antiquities? What's that?" Boring? Ulrika doesn't know the definition of the word, apparently.

Novi chuckles as she hands the plate to Ulrika, keeping the bread, "Really old junk that needs to be restored, studied, and cataloged," it's boring, "I am not looking forward to the hands on part of that class. Some of that stuff can be really fragile," this said after Ulrika returns, "Much rather study maps, charts, and the like."

There's a slight grunt for that, but it's an intrigued one, with lifted eyebrows and all. Ulrika's not gone long, though, and another Candidate is now up one plate of fruit on top of the rest of their meal. She settles into her seat soon enough and remarks, "I'd be worried about handling the old material, as well." Her hands are not great for delicate work, though that's no secret. There's a slight ducking of her head in a thoughtful nod to the rest, though, and she wonders, "Do you have a favorite map?" The question is posed hesitantly; is having a favorite map even a thing? She has no idea.

"I really don't. I love them all," Novi answers, nibbling at the bread, "But if I had to pick one it would have to be a really old map of a small island off the coast of Ista," she wrinkles her nose, "I'm working, nope. I was working on restoring it before coming here."

And, suddenly, this is relevant to Ulrika's interests. "Oh, aye? Which one is it? Or is it still there, do you think? I've heard some islands just up and vanish, if they're small. And, around Ista, there are a fair lot of little ones like that." She leans a little forward in her chair, brow furrowed with thought and interest. "How do you even restore a map? Just draw over the old lines? Stick it onto newer hide?"

"I think it was called Windcrest. We were never allowed to go look for it," Novi answers the first part, then she chuckles and shakes her head, "No, the old hide or parchment is put on a frame, and a light is shown behind it to light up what's there. From there I simply had to pick out the lines so that they were refreshed, or I'd redraw on fresh hide as needed," she makes it sound so much simpler than it is, "It can be tedious though."

There's a slow nod from the guard-Candidate and, after a few moments, she rises again, but this time to get a bit of a stretch in. "Strange, that." A mental note is made to send word back home, to see if her father knows anything of it. The rest, though, that's worthy of a low whistle and a shake of her head. "Sounds like it. I'll keep on with using my fists; it's simpler work, there." Her grin is fleeting, but bright for just a moment. Ebbe and Hemming, for their part, have apparently fluttered off to go find food on other plates; Ulrika summons them back with a sharp double-snap of fingers. "Well, if you can get away to the library," she says, "I'd be curious to see one of these maps of yours."

Novi nods as a candidate comes over, "Cook says there's too many of us in the kitchen. Y'er to take time to work on y'er robe before y'er afternoon chores," then he's gone, "Well that's that then. I'm free until the afternoon."

Ulrika glances to the kitchens after the other fellow departs, then back to Novi again. "I think that'll be a bigger problem than they think. Too many of us and not enough busy work to keep us all busy," she muses. "And the Harpers are probably stretched thin enough with lessons." It's a sorry state, all the way around. The blonde gently pushes her chair in under the table and steps back. "I'll have to check about lessons; I'll meet you in the library if I can." Which is more than likely, all things considered, but she's not about to presume anything at this point.

Novi nods, "I'm going to need to make sure Bean's not being a nuisance," she says as she stands, having finished her klah and bread. The mug is taken back into the kitchen, and then Novi's back out again. She'll be heading out soon to gather supplies.

Ulrika nods as well and, when Novi returns, she replies, "Good luck on that. See you again soon." She hopes, anyway. She offers her fellow Candidate a salute, then goes off herself, to check on the state of lessons and to see if it's one she can pass on to give her seat to someone that actually needs it or not. Ebbe and Hemming, helpfully, trail after her, fluttering along to keep up with her purposeful pace.

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