Who

K'lir, Freya

What

Klah, pastries and runners

When

It is late night of the twenty-second day of the third month of the fourth turn of the 12th pass.
It is the twenty-second day of Autumn and 73 degrees. The rain has calmed, but the moons are still hidden behind heavy clouds. A light rain falls, keeping everything wet.

Where

Living Caverns, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 03 Mar 2015 06:00

 

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Living Caverns

Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophoba. 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 the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.


It is a very wet Journeyman Herder that enters the caverns this late, rainy evening. If Freya's reddish hair wasn't in a thick braid it would have been plastered to her face. As it is her clothing clings to her more than she'd like. Freya wipes the water from her face and shakes the water to the floor. Tightening her jacket around her waist, Freya makes a beeline to the klah pot and anything warm. Once she has a thick soup and a large mug of klah, Freya finds a table and sits. A look of bliss crosses her face at the first bite of her steaming stew. Warm!

K'lir is settled at a table, which isn't new since he usually settles at a table to eat, and takes up a fair portion of one end this late at night when few others are around. He looks up as a drudge approaches and clears away his emptied supper dishes and replaces the cold, probably empty, klah pot and leaves a fresh, steaming on in its place. A nod of thanks is given as he pours out a new mug and lashes in sweetening and a dollop of cream before stirring the fragrant liquid. The soaking wet young woman is noted and when she settles nearby, he chuckles softly at that first blissful look that crosses her face. "Pretty nice to get hot food after being out in the rains, huh?"

Freya's cornflower blue eyes fly open to seek out the owner of the voice addressing her. She swallows quickly, nodding. "Yes sir. it is. Even if the rains are warm." Freya sips at her dark, unsweetened klah. "Wonderful time of day to be working isn't it? Much quieter." A smile slides across her lips and fades away. She resumes eating, the needs of the stomach urging her to consume whilst awaiting a response.

K'lir chuckles softly and offers a smile of apology for startling the young lady. He lifts his mug for a long swallow and shuffles a few of the parchments to find something he'd been looking for before that brief interruption and settles those sheets on the top of his pile. "Hmm, yes … I suppose so. There are probably other things I could be doing instead but … I need to finish so I can start over tomorrow." One of the kitchen helpers stops at the table they share, a small plate of pastries offered to the Weyrsecond but with a glance of inquiry to the woman nearby as well. Motioning to the table, he indicates the plate should be left between them so that both of them can indulge if they choose.

Freya raises a brow at the sharing of pastries and the apologetic smile, still unused to such behavior on men. K'lir earns a full smile, one that reaches Freya's eyes and is a rare occurrence. "I understand, it is much the same with runners. You start early, work late, and do it all over the next day." Freya finishes off her stew and sits back, sipping at her hot klah and debating one of those pastries. "Looks like a lot of paperwork there, how long can you go before you're cross eyed?" This is asked indicating she works the same way.

A low sound that could be either a snort or a laugh issues from K'lir's lips, his smile somewhat lopsided as he shrugs. "I think I reached the cross-eyed stage a few candlemarks ago and am just going on pure stubbornness now." His tone is dry as he considers the pastries and reaches for one of them, his teeth crunching into the still warm, flaky crust. "Hmm …" He chews and swallows that first bite before continuing. "You work with runners?" His eyes flick to her shoulder and nods slightly at the knot looking rather bedraggled there. "Sorry … missed the knot before."

Freya laughs softly. "Stubbornness is good sometimes." Freya leans in for a pastry as well, humming with pleasure at the warm, flaky crust and the sweet taste. She nods avidly at K'lir's query, swallowing. "Yes sir, I'm specializing in their husbandry, and in their care, including medical needs. I love runners, their loyal, smart and less complicated than us bipeds."

K'lir nods slightly as the young woman agrees that general stubbornness might be good at times. He makes a few idle notes on the parchment on top of his pile before pushing the stack aside and taking up his mug of klah to concentrate on this snack for now. When she explains what she does, he nods in understanding and looks interested. "They can be … though I've known some really stupid runners in my life too. If I didn't know runners couldn't breed with bovines, I'd think a few of those were half oxen." He chuckles softly at the idea of runners being less complicated than humans, a shoulder lifting dubiously. "I don't know … just the fact that they can't speak could make them more complicated."

Freya snorts. "They may not speak the common tongue, but runners speak plenty." Freya takes a sip of her klah. "You two legged's just don't listen." Freya warns to the topic, face lighting up like a glow basket. "They speak in the way they move, in their snorts and whickers, even in the way they breathe." Freya finishes off her pastry, wiping her hands on an napkin after.

When she snort and insists that runners do speak and that humans don't listen, K'lir grins before he pops the last bite of pastry into his mouth. "Us two leggeds, huh? I suppose you're right. I was raised with runners … old man was a Herder when I was a kid. Only thing the runners ever told me was that they didn't like me." He winks at the young woman and drains his mug of klah. Looking up at the waft of cool air on the back of his neck, he watches a small gold swoop up into the rafters and chitter down at him before his lifemate imparts a message as well. "Hmm … looks like I am being called away." He pushes to his feet and gathers his paperwork into a neat pile to tuck under his arm and inclines his head politely to the young woman. "Good night, Journeyman … rest well when you go." With those few words, the Weyrsecond scoots in his chair and strides out of the caverns as that small gold wings down to land on his shoulder and wrap her tail around his neck for balance.

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