Who

Ginger, Katrya

What

Ginger and Katrya enjoy a whole lunch without having to go back and care for their weyrling dragons. It's a miracle!

When

It is afternoon of the thirteenth day of the seventh month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass. It is the seventy-third day of Winter and 42 degrees. Still dark and overcast, the winter rain has picked up and become heavier, albeit still pleasant.

Where

Southern Weyr, Living Caverns

OOC Date 21 Jul 2018 04:00

 

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"I did try picking Shokravanth up, just so that I could say I could do it. He wasn't very keen, though - seemed to think I was reversing the natural order of things - and he was way too heavy, anyway."


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Living Caverns

Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in 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 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's cold, wet and lunchtime. The miserable weather isn't enough to deter weyrlings whose dragons have finally grown up enough to allow them a little freedom from making their way over to the living caverns to grab a meal and a little dragon-free time. The living caverns are busy today: there's not much incentive to be outside right now, so people have gathered and lingered, and the noise of conversation is loud enough to feel like a wall of sound to those entering from quieter regions. Ginger practically comes to a halt as she walks in and looks round. "Is it always so noisy in here? It was much quieter at breakfast - not that I got to enjoy it for long, because someone woke up and demanded oiling as I was taking my first sip of klah."

Katrya's close on Ginger's heels, looking more like a puffball than a weyrling with what her chin-length mane is doing in this weather. Even this weather isn't enough to keep her down with her newfound freedom, a good amount of pep in her step. "Really, are the barracks any better? Faranth, and they're only going to get bigger and it's only going to be become more cramped in there, isn't it? I thought having my own place would be terrifying, but I'm startin' to think of weyr of my own might not be such a bad thing." She sighs wistfully, trying to smooth down her hair. A knowing smile graces her lips and she has to resist the urge to giggle, knowing all-too-well how frustrating that is. "Vino's been fairly okay, surprisingly. I thought he'd be a bit clingier but he's faring well enough. Except at nights. I've been trying to convince him he can sleep alone in his couch, but…" She trails off. "Speaking of klah, it smells like there's some fresh!" With a sly look, she adds, "Don't think too loudly about food, though, we don't want them to wake up."

Ginger grins as she heads for the serving table at a brisk walk. "We don't all talk at once in the barracks: the weyrlingmasters would lay eggs if it got this noisy. And I can't wait to have a weyr of my own. Nobody talking at night. Or snoring. Or moving around and tripping over things. Bring it on! Anyway, you won't be alone: you'll have him." She sidesteps to avoid a woman with a laden tray of used crockery. "But anyway, the other class will be out of the barracks before long. That'll help. Can't wait for that, either." She joins a queue. "Shokravanth's all right with me out of his sight for a little while now, as long as I keep talking to him. But after a while, he just wants me back."

"Oi, Gin, this isn't time for PT!" Katrya exclaims, aghast, as Ginger takes off, "I swear, my legs are about to fall off. And my arms. And my everything, really. Slow down for an old auntie, won't you?" Mentally, she pictures P'quil on a miniature Hatching Grounds, fussing over a clutch of his own. Soon enough, she's in stitches, drawing a couple of side-eyes from the others already queuing for food. Poor, crazy weyrlings. "Weyrling…masters.. having eggs!" she manages to choke out, wiping away tears of laughs. When she finally manages to pull herself together, and it takes a good minute, she snorts, "I can imagine it, though, with how they fuss around like mother wherries. I just keep trying to keep in mind it's for our own good and discipline and all that. But it's exhausting." She sniffs the air, licking her lips, "Smells like they've got that fish stew again. Perfect for this weather." Nose scrunches up. Oh yes, they've been having to trudge through the bowl at a good pace on lots of wet, dreary days, lately. "He is a bit of diva, though," Kat points out, eagerly claiming some fresh bread as the line shifts forward.

"Which one?" Ginger grins, making her own grab for bread and a plate. "Shokravanth's not a diva. He's getting quite snarky, though: sometimes I can hardly keep from laughing at what he's telling me - usually when I'm supposed to be listening to something, of course. I hope he isn't getting that from me, but he probably is. And I hope it is the fish stew. I'm kind of sick of the sight of meat. And the smell of it. Oh good!" It is indeed the fish stew. She's not got that far yet, but there are some floury root vegetables to go with the stew, and she helps herself to a generous portion as she reaches them.

"P'quil!" Katrya exclaims, her fit of giggles extended. It's Katrya's turn to throw some serious side-eye in Ginger's direction, though she's fairly quick to admit, "Well, he's certainly no Turahaimajusuth, but he's definitely mindful. Though I could say the same of Vinodestroth. I don't know where he learns half of the things he knows. Maybe he's just dredging up things I knew at some point? It's downright uncanny, is what it is." Stew is ladled greedily into a generous bowl, placed on a tray she's acquired along with the plate of bread. "If I never have to touch raw meat again after this, it'll be too soon," she's quick to agree. "Though the Feeding Grounds scare me a bit, too. I mean, not scare, but sometimes just watching the dragons go at the 'beasts is enough to make my stomach turn." Even the thought is enough to turn her a bit green, although she adds, "At least we won't have to cut it up anymore, then."

"And you a healer," Ginger teases. "I guess saw my Da's dragon feeding from when I was little - that doesn't bother me. But the cutting it up into tiny bits is so boring, and the texture of it raw…. And that sound it makes on the knife…." She shakes her head, then moves along the table. Finally, she can serve herself some of that delicious-smelling meat-free stew. "What gets me is that he knew about stuff from when he was first hatched. Like stars. He didn't get that from me, 'cos it was the first thing he showed me, and he didn't see 'em from inside his egg. From his mother, maybe?" She moves away from the food table and goes to secure a mug of klah.

Katrya does bristle a bit at that, blushing furiously. "Having a strong stomach isn't a prerequisite for Healing," she protests under her breath, giving Ginger a miffed glance. This isn't a sensitive subject for her at all. "Eeeegh," is the reaction to just imagining that sound. "I'm telling you, dragons have the right it with the mental bonding. I don't think I'd be able to keep with the ignominy of the things we've gotta do otherwise." Klah is acquired with almost as much eagerness as stew and she trudges off towards a table. "I mean, they Hatched knowing Pernese. It really is a mystery, isn't it?"

Ginger nobly refrains from pointing out that as a healer apprentice, Katrya must have done some equally menial and gruesome tasks - she just asks innocently, "Worse than bedpans?" She follows the other girl to the table and sets down her hot plate and mug, then shakes her overheated fingers. "So they did. I hadn't thought of that. Or do you think we just hear them like that, because that's how we think so it makes sense, but really it's not about words? But I don't know what else it could be - oh, this is way too deep for me. But how's Shokravanth got a Fortian accent? He talks just like most of the harpers do." She touches a reddened finger to her lips to moisten it, then sits down and starts tucking in to stew and tubers.

"Yes, worse than bedpans. Dragons bowels are a lot bigger," Katrya replies as she settles into her seat, deadpan, complete with direct eye contact. "So maybe they don't know Pernese, we do… and they just pick that up and use it?" Her brows furrow and she takes a moment to pull off a chunk of bread, soak it in the stew, and chew thoughtfully. "Vino's got a Fortian accent, too. I've never even been that far west! I went to Igen on an errand, once and that went just swimmingly." She doesn't elaborate on that, instead taking an uncouthly large bite of stew. "It still puzzles me what they know versus what they don't. For example, Vinodestroth's got a knack for identifying emotions. He's very empathetic and attuned to that sort of thing. I care, I just don't have the same sixth sense he does."

Ginger pauses with her fork half way to her mouth. "I mean. If you do an egg touching even a day or so before the Hatching, then even if you think you feel stuff, you don't hear a single word from them." The fork completes its journey, so it's a few seconds before she continues. "Shokravanth's got a lot to say about duty, and life in general. He's quite phil- philosophical." Ginger was not a good student when it came to that sort of thing. "He's got a purpose and he knows it, and he relates things to it. But he's also got a sort of edge to him that you don't expect in someone three months old."

Katrya's still struggling with the bite of stew, nodding vehemently in lieu of responding verbally. She washes it down with a glug of klah. "Always 'don't let your dragon take too big of bites', never reminding us to take care of ourselves," she mumbles, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. "Dragonic philosophicalness seems to be the order of the Turn. Vino's the same way. He'll go from this wise, insightful, deep-minded being to a three month old in a heartbeat and it's enough to make me reel."

Ginger opens up her tuber to let it cool. "I suppose we'll get less of the three-month-old when they're - well, not three months old. Ma always says, 'They grow up so fast!'" She imitates the maternal wail. "Like she hasn't been telling us all to grow up and be our age continually for turns. I suppose that's why she wanted another one," she grumbles: her pregnant-yet-again mother is a sore point at the moment. "But they'll be full-grown in a turn, and I suppose it is quite fun to have a little one, so we should enjoy it while it lasts."

Katrya doesn't have time to let things cool! She's too busy shoveling a massive amount of food in her face. She's growing, too, okay? The maternal caricature has her choking on her stew, spluttering and reaching for her klah again. When she's done almost dying, Ginger is given a sympathetic glance. "I don't think I have any more blooded siblings. Just me and my foster brother. I don't even know where Katryma's gotten off to at this point. Harper-ing somewhere, probably." In contrast, the teen doesn't seem too put out by her own mother's antics. "I know there was some talk of her heading back to Fort, speaking of which, to go back to the Hall proper." A shoulder is shrugged lackadaisical. "I already can't believe how big they've gotten. It seems like yesterday I could carry Vino around and now he's just massive."

"It's funny the way perfectly normal people turn into parents when they have kids," Ginger observes. "And then there's no understanding them any more. I don't think baby dragons have the same effect." She sounds doubtful, though, and eats some tuber as she ponders it. "I did try picking Shokravanth up, just so that I could say I could do it. He wasn't very keen, though - seemed to think I was reversing the natural order of things - and he was way too heavy, anyway."

"I think it's more about caring for kids than having them. Especially in the Weyrs," counters Katrya didactically, with the weight of all her oh-so-vast and worldly knowledge, hitting the bottom of the stew bowl. She glances down, as if confused about how it could already be gone, her gaze as mournful as a hatchling's. Instead, she takes her hunk of bread to scrape the thick broth from the interior of the crockery. Ginger gets a dubious look for attempting that stunt. As soon as she swallows the chunk of bread, "Yeah, no. I'm not even trying that one. I'm not all buff and Smithly and that." Because Ginger's just the spitting image of a Smith.

"Hey, I was getting muscles before I Impressed, I'll have you know!" Ginger raises her arm in the archetypal 'strongman' pose, but any muscles are well hidden under her baggy green shirt. "And now we're all about to develop them from tossing firestone, it's way too late to think about carrying dragons." She chuckles as she realises the source of Katrya's confusion. "Oh, it wasn't recently. When he was still little, I meant. I suppose if Ma had fostered us out, instead of bringing her sewing back to our room, she might not have got so keen on having kids around. Funny, though: you'd think it would do the opposite. Still, she did have me to dump them on. Bet my sister's loving that."

A brow is quirked at Ginger's demonstration of buffness, almost spitting out her klah. "Pardon me if I seem doubtful, O Miss Muscles," she quips over the edge of her cup, taking another sip before Ginger's got time to respond. Her mouth forms a small 'o' as it sinks in that the fellow weyrling wasn't trying to port around one of their now-sized lifemates. "The mental image was a lot better when I thought you meant recently," is admitted with a laugh, her eyes full of juvenile mischief. "I'm not the best with 'brats. My foster mother figured that out pretty quickly after she brought Talusian home. That or she was too busy to go track me down in the archives." Equally likely.

Ginger has finished her meal too, apart from the bread, with which she wipes the plate clean of gravy before eating it. "The archives seem like a good place to hide from 'brats. By the time they actually want to be in there, they're pretty much past the bratty stage." She pulls her klah towards her. "Can't think how long it is since I got the whole way through a meal in here."

"I was just there to read. I read even more then, if you can even imagine. Well, not that you need to. I almost keep forgetting most of us grew up together. It seems like a different lifetime ago." Indeed, it's a rare sight to see Katrya without a sidekick of bound hide when they're not attending to their many chores and PT exercises and general dragon maintenance. Just as she's about agree with Ginger, her eyes go distant and she can't help but chuckle. "It's almost like he heard you or something! Vinodestroth calls." She gathers all her things onto her tray, which she hands off to a conveniently passing drudge with a word of thanks. "Nice to have chance to sit with you for all of, what, half a candlemark?" Flashing a smile and a wave, she's off.

"You too," Ginger says, smiling and leaning back in satisfaction at being the one who didn't get called away. She gets a whole five minutes to enjoy it before Shokravanth, too, is calling for attention - but even time to finish a mug of klah seems like an achievement.

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