Nevik, Nathanael


Nathanael and Nevik head to the stores to replace the rushes for Nathanael's bed.


It is evening of the nineteenth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Southern Weyr

OOC Date


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Apprentice Dorm, & Central Stores

| A vast and sprawling cavern, the main storage area of the weyr is
| well-tended by the loving and stern hands of those who oversee the
| bounty stored within. Depending on the time of day, it is a place of
| illuminated neatness, stacks of dry goods and foodstuffs labeled
| clearly… or it is a place of werelight and stygian darkness that
| taunts those who would dare challenge the depths thereof.

A foul smell is coming from the corner of the apprentice dorms, and Nathanael, AGAIN, is stripping the rushes from the cot which he gets to sleep upon. He's whistling while he does it, and it doesn't seem to really bother him.
Nevik walks in with his new, bronze flying stomach cradled in his arm and heads towards his bunk to see if he can get the creature to go to sleep again. Upon his arrival through the entrance to the apprentice dorms he is hit by the strange smell and then the sight of Nathanael, "What in the name of the mother are you doing?" he asks and winces slightly that his hands are too occupied to hold his nose.
Skyblue eyes glance up and Nathanael puts a rather faint smile onto Nevik. "'e cover's filthy, gotta be changin' it afore 's time t' be sleepin' t'night." He tugs at one edge, trying to untuck a corner without actually touching the filt that lays upon said cover. He's not at all successful at doing it, no matter how hard the smaller teen pulls.

Nevik blinks in surprise at the condition of his bunk and suddenly decides that the idea of letting his new pet sleep on his bed isn't such a great idea. "Yeah…," he sighs and reaches under his own bed to pull out a wide, high-sided basket used to store some personal possessions. Broken on one side, probably explaining how he was able to get it for his own use, he does his best to set the sleeping bronze on his bed for a moment to pull an old shirt from his haversack and line the basket.
"Hopefully I'll be able to keep him in the basket for a while - ya know…" he just shakes his head at the smell that's successfully crawling up and into his nose. "Wow…is all that from yours?"

Nathanael glances over to the sleeping bronze, his hands still full of smelly sheets. "D'pends on when ye fed 'em last. Trib 'n Ma both would be sleepin' f'r a solid candlemark when they was that little." His lips purse slightly as he ponders how to get his sheets off. Finally deciding he is going to have to touch the soil he wrinkles his nose and reachs out to yank on it again. "Aye… proly. 'm thinkin mayhap happened after I left. 'cuz it sure was no' like this when I was sleepin' 'ere last night."

Nevik hrms and ponders the problem that the smaller apprentice is encountering and what he, himself, will probably enounter as his bronze ages. "So why don't we get something to put down over the bed while we're gone?" The question seems mostly for himself though he is looking at the toe-headed boy when he asks it. "Something like a scrap of an old blanket or an old hide or something from the leather workers. It doesn't matter if it gets soiled and," he pauses as the young man pulls off the sheets and while he gets his bronze settled in the new basket which he places on his bed. The bronze seems barely aware that anything has happened since he fell asleep with a full belly. "…just pull it off before you sleep."

"I dun think that'll stop that 'em from foulin' it when'er they're wantin' to." Nathanael says way more casually than most people would when facing a bed full of urine. "Tho' 's a good idea. Mayhap I'll be seein' if Trib could be sleepin' his nap here. He ain't one t' bite much, but'll give a scratch if'n mischief's up." Finally, one last tug has the covers pulling clear. Calmly Nathanael rolls the soiled cloth up and shoves it onto the ground and moves to examine the rushes themselves. "Might have t' be gettin' a ne bad all t'gether."

The dialect of Nerat is difficult to understand sometimes - especially if you've never really heard it before. Nevik, from Fort Weyr, has to strain to push through the half-spoken words and swallowed syllables to figure out what is going on. "Do you want some help getting more straw? He'll sleep for a while - just ate enough to keep -me- fed and should be fine." He's only run into the young, toe-headed boy a few times but knows him enough that anyone could want help to get this chore out of the way as fast as possible.

Nathanael begins to pull fouled rushes aside, creating a pile. Any piece which can be saved is. "If ye got some time, I would no' be mindin' 'e help. Tho," And at this Nathanael's gaze takes on a rather serious look- not at all common to the typically cheerful teen. "Ye might be kippin' off if'n Raya'n them are showin' up. Ain't no good t' be catchin' their atten-tion."

Nevik shrugs a little, trying to act the part of the brave fellow - at least as well as he can, "I'm helping a fellow apprentice and…uh…seeing to your proper…health. Yeah, that's it. I'm helping you stay healthy…or…something." He shrugs again at the idea of his clumsy excuse but if it works for him maybe their superiors will let it go. "So how's…uh…"he tries to think a bit and then remembers, "Sea Craft?"

"If'n ye dun mind…" Really, it isn't the adults that Nathanael is worried about. But when Nevik stays firm about helping, he will push some of those rushes towards him to be picked up. "'s a bit wet, what with all the rain." This small joke brings the grin back to Nathanael's face as the last of the fouled rushes are pulled off. "Ye ain't been here long, e'er been in 'e stores?"

Nevik shakes his head, "No, not really. I have been too busy and thankfully everything that I've broken, so far, hasn't been mine." He whips out a small cord from a pouch at his belt - one that turns out to actually be a woven, cord-braided sling, and uses it to tie up the loose rushes to that they're easier to carry. "Where should we take these?"

Nathanael gathers up the soiled cloth in his arms, the bundle small enough that it fits perfectly within his arms. "Proly should jus' be dumpin' 'em t' be burned. I'll be showin' ye, 'n then be gettin' some new 'uns from 'e stores." He trots towards the doorway, glancing backwards as blond hair flips into his eyes. "Ye ain't broken much t'day, have ye?"

Nevik just drops his eyes a little at the question and offers a wincing expression of "Well…not…TOO much…and it wasn't like that table was -exactly- sturdy to begin with. The bottles…well…" he just decides to keep quiet and follow the blonde boy out.

Nathanael's voice pipes out, proceeding the two boys as they descend the stairs into the darkness of the stores. "Jus' a sec, 'n I'll be grabbin' 'e light…" Having at some point ditched his fouled covering he is able to move quickly, quite familiar with the never-changing set up of the Southern stores. He fumbles at the glow, and opens it allowing the light to spill out.

Nevik is halted at the entrance, the bundle of old rushes bound by his oft-unused sling. "You sure know your way around this place. I keep getting lost," he confesses and steps inside once the glows have had a chance to wake up and spill their illumination throughout the chamber. "Heh…looks kind of like what we had at Fort Weyr - though a bit more organized I think."

"Ye dun get more organized 'n Renalde 's keepin' it." Nathanael turns to look down the rows of shelves, admiring them for just a moment. How Renalde manages to keep everything so neat with people coming and going is a mystery, but it does. "Ye'll be learnin' soon 'nough," Nathanael adds with a bit of a comforting tone. Forward he goes, looking for fresh rushes and cloths for his bunk. "Ye needin' anythin' while we're here?"

Nevik shakes his head and sets the pile of used rushes to one side so that they can be burned later. Unwinding his sling from the bundle he starts to coil it around his hand while walking along a few steps behind Nathanael, "So what do they have ya doing down in Sea Craft?," he begins a polite, time-bending conversation, "…I'm patching up riders and crafters and making medicines for most of my day."

Nathanael has to stand on tip toe more than once as he moves down row. "Can ye be seein' if'n there somethin' on 'e top shelf?" He'll inquire of the other boy, pulling another basket down to examine the contents. Nope, not new bedding. As for his question, "'s winter, so ain't out on 'e boats as much as most've us'd like. Lots of mendin' nets 'n gettin prepped f'r 'e spring. Some've 'e ground grews come ball all messed dun' they."

Nevik is probably taller than Nathanael, though it may not help him see to the top shelf. It takes him a few tries but finally he is able to find folded, linen sheets. "Here," he says while leaned up and balanced upon one of the lower rungs of the shelf. Whatever it was that he was standing on decides to give way. And, of course, this causes the boy to lose his balance and start to flail. Well -obviously- the basket of neatly folded sheets goes flying since he was holding onto it when he fell. With a thud, the rusty-haired apprentice falls to the ground and plants his rear on the stones. However, several items on the top shelves have been unsettled and continue to teeter this way and that - unknown to Nevik.

Nathanael winces when all of those neatly organized things go flying, and his gaze darts towards the doorway. "Ye gotta be more careful Nev!" Leaving off his search for what Nevik has found the smaller apprentice darts around gathering up the cloths. "We gotta get this all cleaned afore some'un tells Renalde 'bout it."

Nevik tries to push himself up but he's got one leg that's gone numb because of how he fell. It's not seriously hurt he's just slow to get back up to speed. Doing his best to start to pull together those objects that are close at hand and that can be easily gathered he keeps an eye on the entrance just because it would be his luck that someone walks in while they're trying to fix the problem. "Ok…," he begins with a face that's screwed up in the occasional wincing pain of a charley-horse down one butt muscle. "…Hey, can you grab that stack and hand it to me?" he asks pointing to a load of the folded sheets on the ground that are still, mostly, folded and in one pile.

Wordless Nathanael picks up those cloths, though he sets one aside for himself to use later. Up above, those baskets have ceased to wobble, thought they sit dangerously close to the side still. Maybe just another bump… "Ye know, with ye 'round ain't no one lookin' at m' own clumsy now."

Nevik tries to ease the charley horse in his butt-muscle by bending over and stretching out his leg a bit. Yeah, there…there it goes. He can walk now…sort of. "Well, count your blessings…as my ol' Nan used to say." The accident seems to be fairly well put away without too much effort. He didn't do that much damage this time and takes a moment to lean against the shelves to rest. Which then causes the baskets of who-knows-what to wobble their last inch off the edge and plummet to the ground. Thankfully, no one in their right mind would put anything seriously breakable on a top shelf - nor anything heavy. The baskets, however, fall like large boulders and one smacks Nevik square on the top of his head and drives him to the ground. Ufh!

Nathanael stares at Nevik, before a small giggle escapes his lips. "Ye really gotta be more careful." Downwards he bends, gathering up the rags which had scattered from the basket, and putting them in the one which had landed right on Nevik's head.

Nevik is now dizzy, staggering, unable to walk and about as coordinated as a newborn runner. His hands flail wildly trying to find some sense of balance but all he can do is crumble into a pile at the base of another stack of shelves. "Ough…ma' hed…" his words are partially slurred suggesting that whatever was in the main basket that hit him was a bit more solid than -just- sheets. True enough, stashed amongst the linnens is a bottle of whiskey; perhaps someone's secret stash?

"Nev…" Nathanael shakes his head, scooching around to pick up all things which need picked up. Soon enough they're gathered and Nathanael eyes the distance between his height and the top of his shelf. Deciding that won't at all work he sets the basket down. "Here, I'll be leadin' ye up t' 'e healers afore some'un catches us." Off the pair will go, Nathanael leaving the glow on so no one trips in the sudden change in things-on-the-floor.

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