| Who | |
| What |
Weyrlings go looking for something to spruce up new weyrs and run into an apprentice new to Igen. Beware, apprentice, beware! |
| When |
It is midmorning of the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month of the first turn of the 12th pass. |
| Where |
Central Bazaar, Igen Weyr |
| OOC Date |
Central Bazaar
All roads in the weyr ultimately lead here, to this center of commerce. Canvas awnings jut out over time worn, sandy cobblestone, sheltering customers and wares alike from the majority of Igen's elements, and funnel scents both mouthwatering and vomit inducing through the thin streets. Almost all store fronts are open air, delineated by sandstone arches with intricately carved facades. The insides of these stone-shingled buildings act as an amplifier for the salesmens' bawled enticements, and are held up by the chipped swirls of marble pillars.
It is the twenty-fifth day of Autumn and 69 degrees. A cloud appears on the horizon, familiar to Igen natives, swelling across the blue skies quickly. Sand blows across the weyr, pelting everyone and everything until it blows itself out. The fine sands, raised by the strong winds, penetrates the ears, eyes, nose, and throat.
It's getting less unusual to see weyrlings in the reputable parts of the bazaar, trickling out to browse wares at various stalls or popping into the cantina for a snack that isn't that day's fare in the weyr's kitchens. With the conclusion of morning drills and dismissal for a few hours of free time before afternoon classes, Majel blends into the crowds that move hither and thither, sure steps pushing a path through familiar territory. Having stopped by a stall that sells especially delicious fried vegetable something-or-other pockets, she's nibbling steadily at one while skirting around others in the street. There's a long, wary look for a shopfront advertising fantastic fabrics; lips purse before she heads instead to peruse a weaver's offerings of thick blankets and curtains, lingering to touch a few wall hangings and make inquiries of the proprietor.
Tasna steps into that same stall a minute or two after Majel and eyes the various offerings with about as much wariness as Majel gave the other stall moments before. Her own wariness is more about uncertainty, though, and it's with a touch of relief that she spots her fellow weyrling after stepping from behind one of the hanging rugs. "Getting tired of the bare walls already?" she asks, grinning slightly as she reaches to brush her fingers down one of the nearby curtains.
Kaliya probably shouldn't be here and definitely shouldn't be using her time on the sticky bread and goo thing she's currently eating. There IS a bundle of fabric under her arm, which might mean she was sent for a purchase but apprentices aren't generally meant to linger anywhere unless it's over work. At least she's made the show of an attempt at hiding by tucking herself into the shadowed corner of a stall.
"I'm accustomed to bare walls, " Majel points out perhaps unnecessarily as she turns to Tasna, attention settling on the other's brush along a curtain. "Something very much like that, however … " And she permits herself to trail off, thoughtful. There's another curtain hanging behind that one, fabric heavy and patterned in a series of lines and zags that's unmistakably native to the desert. "That would work well." Perhaps it's unintentionally spoken aloud, for she requests the price moments later and digs through a pocket to come up with the appropriate amount of marks. "We found a weyr, " she can't help confiding to the brownrider, pleased. "I think I spent almost every rest hour last seven checking out some of the empty ones." There's a brief glance slanted around a rug that shifts as it's pulled from display: Is that someone in the corner with a sticky roll? Up goes an eyebrow, query pitched to carry. "Is that one of Ravene's creations?"
Dyxath shares in Majel's quiet pleasure at having found a space that's to be theirs, a subtle roll of fog carrying with it the dark image of an outcropping high above the bazaar that's undoubtedly to be his ledge, a blurrier impression of a hollowed out, empty weyr following. This is where they're gonna hang their hats. Along with that sense, he adds a polite, if gravelly, « You and yours found somewhere yet? »
Tasna glances toward the apprentice when Majel calls toward her, though the weyrling's own attention is kept to a polite nod and a wave of fingers. She glances at the item Majel purchases while sticking her hands in her trouser pockets. For all that they've been in weyrlinghood for months now, this particular uniform still looks rather new. Her Pern equivalent of her "Sunday Best"? Maybe. "We did, too," she responds, distractedly dividing her attention between Kaliya, Majel, and some of the other stall's wares. "Above the leadership ledges. South-facing. Probably too much sun in summer, but…" She trails off, shrugging.
Kaliya blinks wide eyes at the question before answering in a muffled voice. "Mffstffl." Realizing she's not going to be understood that way, she nods without looking TOO guilty about it. Once her mouth is empty enough to speak again she offers a lopsided smile. "Smelled too good to pass up." Apparently this is a perfectly good excuse. "Oh you never get too much sun." Clearly she has never spent a Summer here, given the blissful expression that briefly crosses her face at the mention of it.
Tseylath is both warm and relaxed as he shares a vision of their own ledge and weyr, still full of grit and dust and the ragtag leftovers from whichever pair last lived there. « We picked the first one that felt okay, » he shares, his voice a dry, casual tone as the images fade. « Big ledge. The Weyr is not, but Tasna wanted something that would heat easily. » There is a sensation of a mental shrug as golden sunlight shimmers through blowing sand. « Seemed a good reason to me. »
Majel carefully takes the curtain once it's been wrapped and secured, tucking the somewhat bulky package under an arm so that she can still browse through some of other hangings on offer. Wryly, "You do live in the desert, you know. There's almost always too much sun for most people." Her brow knits a little. "I slept up there last night for the first time. It's nice to have solitude and quiet, " neither of which have been plentiful in all of her turns between the dormitories and both sets of barracks, "but a little odd just the same. I woke up several times throughout the night and was surprised to find that I was the only one breathing in the room." There's a raised eyebrow for Kaliya's blissful enthusiasm, an assessing sweep of hazel eyes over the much younger redhead. "You're not a native, I take it."
Dyxath listens attentively, casting a keen look over those dusty weyr images. « All of the weyr heats easily, » he deadpans just as dryly, a curling ring of cigar smoke blowing forth with good humor. « Ours seemed like a good place to keep an eye on things. » And perhaps, this is a concept that this particular brown brother will understand more than many of their other siblings; the need to quietly, steadily observe activities where trouble is often found.
"If it was Ravene's, then I believe you," Tasna tells Kaliya with a lopsided grin. "Half the reason I didn't want a weyr above the bazaar was because every one I checked out, I could smell that baking. I'd be fat in no time, and then Tseylath would have to figure out how to disown me. Unimpressed brown. Literally." Tas then gives Majel a curious little side-glance, though her grin is still in place. "Bit of a change, right?" she asks before admitting, "we haven't tried that yet. Still need to clean the weyr before I want any of my stuff in there." She tests the thickness of one of the rugs, then glances at the other two. "Plus, it'll be kind of weird."
Tseylath most definitely understands that, as the shared image this time is of the view from their newly acquired ledge. From the various details, however, it is not a current events view, but likely from the day before. No incoming sand storm. « Not at night, » he counters easily as a draft of dusty air flits, dancing along his words. « And that high up, we could watch the comings and goings, day or night. » Because that's not creepy at all.
Kaliya gives a shake of her head. "Nope, from 'round High Reaches." In other words, the kid is going to look like a beet the first time she encounters an actual Summer day. "Good thing they can't. Imagine they could complain about having to carry…" She chuckles but then glances between the two. "You have to sleep all the way up there?" Gulp. "And I thought not having to share a bed was strange." Apparently the filter between her brain and mouth is out of service.
"You can almost gain an immunity to the appealing smells after working down here for a while, " Majel opines, fixing an incredulous look on Tasna before she dismisses the other weyrling's concerns with a wave of a hand. "Highly improbable. We're required to do enough physical training that it probably evens out, somewhere." One shoulder lifts in a half-shrug; "It's rather strange. I've swept the place thoroughly and don't have much up there right now besides a bedroll and a change of uniform. Maybe it'll feel better once it starts to look like someone's quarters rather than an empty cavern." Amusement tugs the corners of her mouth upward, but only just. For Kaliya, "Are you afraid of heights?"
Dyxath allows some of the ever-present baritone humming in his mind to pick up its tempo a tad as he also shares a view from his new ledge. It's from dusk the previous evening, where the skies are purpling rapidly into darkness and the perpetual motion of the bazaar, though slower, remains far below. The people look about as large as trundlebugs and details remain indistinguishable save for where lights twinkle out from some of the stalls that stay open later. « There's a little visible just before nightfall, but it's easy enough to tell if there's a big enough disturbance to bring everyone to a halt down there. » Tailing a genuine suspect is an act of necessity, but it doesn't have to be creepy.
Tasna can't help but wince a little in reply to Kaliya's shared info. "Make sure you bug the Healers for some of that lotion they keep on hand. And numbweed. And find a nice big hat," she advises, still grinning. "A scarf, too, but not the kind they wear in High Reaches. Um…" She glances around the current stall for a good example but comes up empty for the immediate vicinity. The searching brings Majel back into focus, though, and she laughs in reply to the bit about physical training. "I kind of like where we ended up, though. Way up high. Quiet. Probably won't be bugged unless people really want to be there." She goes back to the rug from before and motions for the owner's attention, then waits, glancing back to Kaliya after Maje's question.
Tseylath sends an appreciative hum along the mindlink as he examines the blue's own shared view, while his own fades again. With it, the dust and sand settle into a calm, cool lull of a spring morning, though in the background is a sense of the real oncoming storm. « We will need to fortify before we can truly live there, » the brown muses quietly before all is shut out by the feeling of the barracks. Still safe. Still home.
Kaliya almost appears ready to defend her bravery but then gives in to a half shrug. "Only a little. The ones that you'd fall and splat from." She finishes the last of her pastry and makes a show of smacking her hands together to indicate the state of being after such a fall. "I guess you don't have to worry about it, though. Unless you're clumsy and trip over your own feet." She does nod at the list, and indicates the bundle under her arm. "Got told I'd be redder than wine. Plus that I'll probably need all new clothes." Something she doesn't appear to enjoy.
"Something similar to these lightweight, almost gauzy curtains, " Majel interjects helpfully in reference to Igen-appropriate scarves, nodding toward a selection of thin, breathable fabric that's fetchingly arranged. Neutrally, "Try the stall across the street with that balding merchant and his - blonde, was it? - assistant. I don't know how experienced she is as an employee, but the owner is a very competent tailor." There's an agreeable noise for Tasna's list of good weyr qualities, followed by a flick of a thoughtful glance. "I like mine for many of the same reasons."
Dyxath injects the feeling of putting one's feet up into that cool, lulling morning, easy nonchalance a front for the calculating thoughts that blink beneath, wisps of careful coordination and ponderous preparation for that incoming storm. « We're keeping what we need immediately at hand to prepare for the transition. We're planning to start putting what we don't need right now in there, bit by bit. » Extra clothes. Congratulatory gifts from friends.
"I think that's how my weyr became available," Tasna replies to Kaliya. Kidding. She's really just kidding. See the grin? She motions toward Majel after her last comment and replies, "I knew you were smart." Then she's distracted by the stall's owner, and steps away to discuss the price of the rug.
Kaliya glances over at the stall and nods. "That's what I was tryin' to find except then I followed my nose." Tasna's joke is rewarded with a grin and that splat hand motion again. "I bet they'll have a fit when they see the list I've gotten." Another shrug implies she's not overly concerned about it. "Y'know, if you have to worry about the heat… Maybe you should put up a really dark hanging at the entrance. I mean, you'd have to pull it back when you're gonna be coming and going, but it'd keep the heat from soaking in too much."
Majel can't help the half-smile that curves briefly once her fellow weyrling turns to haggle over the rug, expression rather pleased. Clearing her throat, a feasible enough need with the sand blowing through the area, she shakes her head briefly at Kaliya in the negative, free hand tapping the bundled, off-white curtain under her arm. "A dark hanging would trap the heat, " she points out pedantically. "Something lighter in hue would actually keep what's behind it cooler. Dark and heavy would work better against snowstorms." And this isn't High Reaches, is left unsaid, just in case Kaliya needed another reminder.
"Oh yeah, sand. No snow. Kinda strange, not ever having to freeze my a… uh… backside off anymore." Kaliya grins. "Hard to get all of those 'get ready to freeze' lists out of my head. It's still nice to have my bare feet hit the floor and not want to yank them back up again. Even when it's warm it's still cold in the mornings," she explains. "This is gonna take a lot of getting used to."
"Replace them with checklists for heat exposure and how to prevent dehydration, " Majel advises promptly. "The temperatures will roast you as efficiently as a wherry turning on a spit if you don't take care - but it sounds like you have others looking out for you." There's approval in that last bit, gaze measuring. "There are challenges to be met in taking on a new climate, of course. I suppose I'd be equally perplexed if someone moved me to High Reaches tomorrow." Her nose-wrinkle of distaste, however, shows what she thinks of that possibility.
Tasna returns to the conversation as the stall owner walks away, the bargained rug under his arm. Whatever it is they decided, Tas looks fairly relaxed about it. "Hey, I think I'm going to go as soon as he gets back," she informs Majel and Kaliya, hooking a thumb back toward the retreating owner. "Tseylath says the watchdragon is telling folks to go batten down the hatches soon, so probably a good time to get back to the barracks for now." In case the already blowing snow wasn't bad enough, apparently it's going to get worse.
"The only way my father'd let them take me was the promise that I'd be properly clothed. He didn't see any point in buying clothes for a girl to go off and play at a craft." Kaliya wrinkles her nose. "Don't fancy being fried, though. I guess gauzy girly scarves it is. But just between you and me? If someone tries to move you there, kick 'em somewhere tender. Even with the sand and wind it's a dream compared to a blizzard." The mention of worsening weather, however, earns a sour look. "I'm gonna be shaking dust out of my ne.. ears. For days."
"They don't have to be girly, " Majel rejoins, "just somewhere around that same, light consistency and not the heavy, woolen type you'd wear up there." An eyebrow arches wryly for the girl's recommended response to being transferred to the mountains; "That's a one-way ticket to disciplinary action, since the people who push the hides for those types of moves have far more complex knots than I." Still, she's amused, lips twitching even as her gaze unfocuses briefly before she's turning back to Tasna. "I'll go with you. It'll be easier to walk into the barracks with this curtain than to fly back up to my weyr with the sand picking up - and I won't have to worry about flying through that mess to get back down when it's time for lessons." It's a strategic, sensible thing, no?
Tasna nods her agreement to Majel's first and grins at Kaliya. "Come on, do I look like the type to go all girly?" she teases lightly before turning away for a moment to accept her own tightly bound bundle from the stall owner. See? They totally weren't loitering. Today. "Best bet is to cover your ears then, right?" she tells Kaliya with a wink, then nods again to Majel. "Better now than later, when we spend half the lesson spitting out sand." Sensible is good! "Pleasure meeting you," she adds quickly to the apprentice. "I'm Tas, by the way. Good luck with the acclimation." At which point she's already edging toward the bazaar street, making sure not to knock over any displays with the rug.
Kaliya pulls a strap over her shoulder, revealing the bundle under her arm to be a bag filled with some of the things on that list of must haves. "I imagine that would still be better than freezing. I'll ask for something less girly and see what I end up with. Looks like I'd better get to it. Oh!" She blushes just a little. "I'm Kaliya, but everyone just calls me Kali. Makes it yelling at me easier." She nods in Tasna's direction. "Thanks. I think I'll need it."
Majel shoots an appraising look over her shoulder at the flying sand that's gradually picking up speed, carefully pulling her purchase from under her arm so that she can hold it more securely with both hands. "Cover your nose and mouth, too, " she adds in parting to the young harper as she moves to follow Tseylath's out into the street after thanking the stall owner. "I'm Majel. Be careful, Kaliya." Across the way, that gray-balding merchant might watch the bluerider's progress with narrowed eyes and a frown, but turns back to his customers, electing to save that encounter for another day.