Casis, Varvara


Varvara visits the Craft Complex and finds apprentices up to what apprentices are always up to: no good.


It is afternoon of the twenty-fifth day of the fifth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.


Southern Weyr

OOC Date 17 Mar 2016 07:00


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"Murder isn't the best?"


Craft Complex

Expansive and airy, this space, now adorned and decorated with the pride of well over a hundred crafters. A vaulted cavern encompasses two levels, fit with clever skylights from innovative smithcrafters that illuminate tapestries displayed from the bannister of the second-floor: Healer purple, Harper blue, the yellow of the Farmcraft — all the colors and all the crafts are upon display, proudly. The lower level is given to tables and chairs and a hearth stocked with klah; it is brightly-illuminated and a place to study and congregate socially both. The upper level is given to residential rooms, lending the whole atmosphere a pleasant, if somewhat supervised, aura.

It is the fifty-fifth day of Autumn and 90 degrees. A rare jewel of sunshine in midst of Southern's rainy season, the day dawns bright and clear. It is hotter and more humid as Rukbat's heat dries up the rain.

A group of a apprentices have gathered off to one side of the room. Somewhere one of them has managed to find a moth-eaten piece of paper and has rolled it out for the entire group to see. It seems to be a map of some sort, and the group of teenagers are taking animatedly among themselves about what can only be the most secret of secrets from the way a few of them flick their eyes over their shoulders occasionally to see if someone has come to WATCH them. Casis stands in their midst playing with a piece of her long hair, and twisting it about her finger. "I don't know, I mean, isn't it suppose to be dangerous?"

It's hard to miss Varvara, clad in white leathers, bright against any backdrop. Today she eases with graceful strides through the craft complex, jacket open and an emerald colored scarf at her throat. It sets off dark eyes that immediately spot the cluster of apprentices. Their furtive glances are a dead giveaway. Strolling closer she affects not to notice, but settles with her back to them and stands, head held high. She looks around taking the place in. Is she waiting for someone? She stretches out a hand with elegant sweep and snugs the glove there, tipping her head to the side, just enough to look at the apprentices in periphery over her shoulder. "It usually is."

One of the apprentices noticed Varvara. But she's not wearing a crafter knot, so she gets ignored in favor of the PAPER in front of them. Until she speaks, and en mass the group turns to glare at Casis. All her fault. She wilts under their stares and the group begins to pack up the papers. A hint of panic, "Wait! I um," a glance back at Varvara, as Casis lowers her voice and twiches her fingers at the map. Hand it over people!

Varvara turns back to her regard of the soaring space, admiring the turn of rafters and the tapestries displayed. She gave the apprentices fair warning by way of obvious approach, if they didn't scamper fast enough, that'll be a lesson for them. And perhaps for Casis. They've scampered now? Varvara begins a slow circuit of the room, admiring the crafts on display. It's like a museum. She is perusing a spinning wheel that is, perhaps, not only a show piece, given the basket of carded wool beside, still fragrant with lanolin. She dips to touch the soft wool, smiling, her eyeline just above the worktables arranged in rows. "What is dangerous?" Her voice is low, and reedy, like the mellow rasp of a flute, full of wist and longing.

Except Casis is required to stay here, so even though she stuffs that piece of paper under her shirt, she can't scamper away like some of the others. Instead she'll shift uncomfortably from foot to foot and look everywhere but at Varvara. "Uh, um, I mean, like. It's nothing? I mean, yeah. We were just talking about the murdering people?" Casis, a terrible liar.

Varvara stands, lifting easily to her feet to turn and regard Casis over the distance between them. She begins to move, a mesmerizing sway, not unlike the snake charmers in Igen's bazaar, "Apprentice," she weaves closer, slaloming between the tables until she's close indeed to Casis. "We are all talking about 'the murdering people.'" Starcrafters are taught logic and deduction, yes? "What are your thoughts?"

"Um." Casis is still young enough in her training that her master hasn't quite managed to break her of a habit of self-doubt. Instead she watches Varvara's movements like she's a rabbit caught in the woman's gaze. "I um, it's pretty terrible. I mean, Sven wasn't um, but he was a journeyman so it isn't really my place. I'm just an apprentice?" Not that Varvara hasn't made it completely apparent already that she knows Casis' rank. "Murder isn't the best?"

"It is a terrible affair, truly." Varvara's brown eyes are deep, large. If not for the knot, one would be hard pressed to identify Varvara as a rider. Leathers not withstanding. She wears them like they are simply what made sense to wear this dreary day. Her boots, a speckled with mud. There are certain realities in the Southern clime. She tilts her head, smiling pleasantly, it's a smile born right up from the heart, a ray of sunshine in the drear, "Let's talk of other things, hmm?" She looks around for somewhere to sit. "Do you know a Journeyman Hagerak? Hagerak is a weaver, a leatherworker.

"Hagerak?" Does every statement that falls from Casis' lips end with a queston mark? Yes, yes they do. "Um, yes!" There, some finality. Abruptly Casis turns, "I'll go find him for you!" Before Varvara can ask other questions, she's gone with her MAP.

Such a dutiful girl. She'll do well. So long as she learns how to prevaricate more eloquently. Varvara watches her departure and then returns to drifting through the handiwork of the craftfolk of the Weyr. It isn't long before Journeyman Hagerak arrives. He cuts a dashing figure, handsome, save a scar the makes a sneer of his mouth. Varvara smiles at him, a bright beam of greeting followed by a kiss to each cheek. The two stroll out towards the Solarium, "Hagerak, I have a job for you…"

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