Who

Calista, Yukie

What

Calista and Yukie meet and share opinions on the merits of human versus animal.

When

It is midmorning of the sixteenth day of the fifth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr, Kitchen Courtyard

OOC Date 13 Mar 2016 22:00

 

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"Every creature has a nature given to light and dark, whether man or beast."


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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.


Spring has given birth to the grey-cast of low hung clouds which hover over the whole of the weyr, bringing with it the oppressive feel of ozone. It rides the air, these charged oxygen particles, and lifts hair to dance on its own and brings the promise of rain. The kitchens are busy as ever, yielding the crop to feed the masses, but the courtyard isn't as crammed full with people. It is a place to while away time away from the crush while also being productive. Yukie has found such solace here, where the breath of humanity inhales and holds, while she makes the myriad of little dry-food food pouches and tucks them into a rather large basket. The basket looks far too large for the seemingly small greenrider to carry, but there lurks surprising strength in Yukie's resolve that coalesces into her bones. For now, she's tucked her feet up under a muted blue skirt and drops another little string-drawn pouch into the basket. The sky does not yet weep, but the weight of it hangs like a promise.

In the lull between breakfast and lunch a gaggle of kitchen aids emerge from the heat of the kitchens to take their break in the courtyard. Three of the young women make for a bench with a plate of leftover porcine strips to share among them while the fourth peels away from them to seek her own company and that of a yellow furred bazaar mutt that falls into step with her. In her hand are two slices of buttered toast, one of which she tears pieces from and offers to the animal that dances expectantly around her. Toward where Yukie has set herself up, does her path carry her where she's arrested by curiosity for what it is the other woman is doing. While she stands there watching, the mutt becomes impatient and yips for another piece of toast. "Hush now. Shouting is rude." Calista admonishes but she does so with a smile and tosses what is left of the crispy bread off to one side for the animal to chase down. "Are you going on a picnic?" She asks of Yukie.

Yukie's peripherally aware of the influx of people to the little courtyard, lifting blue-green eyes to watch the girl and her dog with muted curiosity. Little in Yukie is given to big expression: everything is driven down into a well of graceful movements and serene gestures. When Calista wanders closer, feeding her mutt with the flick of her fingers, the greenrider smiles. Lacking a knot, her Whirlwind status isn't open for display. She waits a moment, long and thoughtful, before answering, tying off another little pouch. "No," she lifts her head, expression solemn, "It is my rest day and I travel into the desert areas of Igen to give aid." A beat, then she adds with a slip of a smile, "It is the healer in my nature that drives me so, no matter what Inayalinaeth would say on the matter."

Clothed in traditional Nowtime attire in hushed shades of lavender, her hair hidden beneath a similarly coloured headscarf, Calista nibbles on a corner of the remaining piece of toast. Solemn brown eyes the colour of pulled taffy take in the whole of Yukie. The stray canine has finished its share and comes wandering hopefully back toward its benefactor. From Yukie, to the skies with a hint of trepidation then down to the mutt swiping its tail back and forth through the dust. Another bite of toast and then the rest of it is held out for the animal to take. It does so and lopes off. Dusting her hands together, Calista finally smiles and asks, "Your dragon disapproves of you doing so?"

Yukie's oldtimer origin is seen in the way pale hair catches the light of potential storms, the whole of it pulled back from her face into a serviceable runnertail. "Inayalinaeth believes those who have set the course of their own destiny should reap the rewards of it. To go against the pattern destiny weaves, is to go against nature itself." Lips tug upwards, thoughful mien settling around the greenrider. "But I disagree. No one can fight their nature - though most do - and mine is to bring a measure of mercy. And let nature handle the rest." Philosophy aside, the greenrider tucks a little bag into the basket. "So I come here and prepare little portable bits of food and pack the supplies and salves to soothe the wounded flesh and then I got out into the desert." She shrugs, as casual about her own decisions as she is about the storm that hovers overhead. A tip of her head to the stray animal, she adds, "It is much like feeding the strays."

Pretty eyebrows quirk upward and then squeeze toward one another as Calista puts the whole of her focus on deciphering what the other woman is saying. Its likely she isn't able to fully grasp the full tide of rich explanation but she does glean the fundamentals as told in the slip of a smile that ghosts back into being to pair with a thoughtful expression. "These people that you help. Do they have animals?"

"They have food," Yukie's comment is stark but not unkind. "Some of them are pets until desperation drives them to slaughter." The greenrider angles a thoughtful look to the girl, noting the subtle things that might linger around Calista. "Or they starve when the people consume all of the food." She turns back to folding bits of dried lunch into another little bag. "People are animals too, are we not. Scrambling and fighting to live beneath the veneer of society. All society does is give us the rules by which we yoke ourselves to life and tell ourselves that it is safer. Better. But is it?" The greenrider shrugs, not attached to any particular stance to the questions she poses.

Hard grains of displeasure catch to warm brown eyes, lending hint of the iron will that lurks beneath a seemingly sweet and soft exterior. "No." Calista replies with a little purse of lips. "Too often it is people that are the animals and animals the ones that possess a greater understanding of their place in each other's lives and those around them. To say that a man has behaved like a porcine, is to insult the porcine, a creature that is sweet and playful by nature." The strength of her personal conviction is told in the way her petite frame straightens. "Wouldn't you agree?"

In contrast to iron, Yukie is fluid: she is the well of serenity that holds within that deep, soulful gaze the secrets of the universe - mores, the acceptance of such secrets. An old soul wrapped in youth, her hands do not falter beneath the weight of the other woman's conviction. "To each, one cannot transcend their own nature. Man and beast; they do as they will, and there is not right nor wrong with in it. It merely is." She tips her head towards Calista, giving her that soulful regard - a quiet and still presence within. "Life is merely the will to survive. Sows are not above cannibalizing their own young, or laying on them and crushing their tiny, fragile little bones while the animal dies coughing on its own blood." Yukie's voice never changes, layering a sad and quiet truth to her words. Gentle as they may be. "Every creature has a nature given to light and dark, whether man or beast."

Calista listens in polite silence for hers is an upbringing that insists she do so in the presence of one of Pern's defenders of the sky, even if Yukie is considered a fascination for being female. Once the serene blonde has finished speaking there is a small dip of head in acknowledgement of the other woman's right to an opinion. "I see." But does she really? A quick smile follows as if she's reached an internal decision. Briefly she rolls up onto the balls of her feet and then back down again, "As my mother says, ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die. Its the doing that matters the most for we all will eventually die."

Yukie's smile is genuine, for to her, it is clear that she pushes no opinion. To each must believe as they will. Settling another little pouch of food into the basket, she tips a serene smile up to the other girl, accepting of her views as much as Calista was of her own thoughts. "To all things comes an end." She accepts this as easily as the other, flowing from one moment to the next with little conflict. "Did you grow up here?" It's a question, one of many that could be posed, and the underlying sentiment is that answering it is neither required not expected. Thought and query are like bubbles sent out without expectation of return.

"Yes." Calista agrees on there always being an end to things. "Which is why we must enjoy each day as if it might be our very last." The brilliance of a wide smile thus far personally untouched by any of life's crueller aspects, comes into being. The three other kitchen aides having finished their meaty treat begin to drift toward the interior of the kitchens to begin making ready for the midday meal. A look is darted their way. "No," she replies but doesn't in turn offer a point of origination. "Did you?" Once again, taffy eyes are lit with the eternal fire of curiosity.

"No," Yukie shakes her head, answering the last rather than comment on the first: each day should be lived to the fullest of expectation. To this she mutely agrees, though whether 'enjoy' is a particular emotion that she would attach to anything? That's more difficult to ascertain. "I was born in the time before this one, and came forward to the here-and-now, but I claim the now as my time of existance. I have come to Igen by proxy of High Reaches, but Inayalinaeth was born and shelled on this very land, in this very weyr. So to a degree, yes." The last little bundle is tucked away and the greenrider flicks her fingers. "I was reborn here, to Inayalinaeth."

"Oh." For a tick in time, Calista's lips remain formed about the oval shape of the word as if this is something most grave that requires deeper thought. She takes a half-step back though whether that's to return to her duties or to create a touch more distance between herself and Yukie is undefined. "You're of the Oldtimes." She states unnecessarily. Another backward glide of neatly booted foot. The gap opens further. "But your dragon isn't." Like pieces of a puzzle she gathers the bits of information up and tucks them away, intelligent brown eyes shining with the wealth of a thousand questions unasked. Instead, with a careful smile, "Welcome to this time." She grows a little bolder and utters a laugh, fingers pressing to her lips to try and mute the sound. "Though I suppose that's a little past its prime."

"Yes." Benevolence wreathes Yukie as she stands and hefts the basket in her arms as Calista begins to progress away from her. The ebb and flow of life and people is acceptance within Yukie: it is that simple and childlike acceptance that drives every motivation the greenrider possesses. "Thank you." She tips her head back a little, looking at Calista, "Sentiment is timeless, and I am Yukie of Inayalinaeth." The smile grows, warmer, as if Rukbat has dropped from behind the veil of clouds to light up the sweet-pleasant face. "And welcome to Igen, and may your feet carry you in the direction of your desire." The greenrider dips her head and glances back towards the kitchens. "But I must go before the rains fall, for they will be waiting. May your day be not cast in shadow." And it is to that, that the greenrider begins her own departure.

"You're welcome." Warmth once again floods her expression and fingers touch lightly to her breastbone. "I'm Calista of Ista." Finally a place of origin is revealed and pairs with a wrinkle of nose. "I know, I know. It rhymes. My mother has an interesting sense of humour." A close relationship between mother and daughter wreathes through the fond tone of her lilting accent. "It was nice meeting you Yukie of Then and Now and Inayalinaeth." Calista turns in a swirl of skirt hems and with a wiggle of fingers follows the other young women inwards.

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