OOC Date: 18 January 2012
IC Time: Morning, D5 M13 T2691
Cast: D Matrin, Sorayah
Location: Ista Weyr - Living Caverns
Ista Weyr - Living Caverns
Large enough to house the entirity of the weyr's population at one time, the cavern set aside to house the very heart of the weyr's life is a grandoise, somewhat circular affair, filled with rows of long tables. Bustling and busy, it is a rare moment indeed when there is not someone at work or leisure in here; the long trestle table by the kitchens is perpetually filled with plates and trays of food, a pot of something always bubbling upon the mahogany hearth, ready to fill the belly of any hungry resident or rider. Although a high table is set aside for seating respected dignitaries on formal occasions, most of the tables here are not designated to any particular group— rather, all levels of Ista's population eat together, intermingled across the broad cavern.
Great tapestries have been flung down the walls, orange and black borders remarking upon Ista's heritage, the age-faded hangings depicting scenes of importance to the Weyr— the erruption of the volcano; the first clutch; the view from the star stones, over forest, dark beach, and glistening waves of blue. Propellor-like fans have been affixed to the ceiling in more modern times, cooling the cavern on the hottest of days. Passageways lead up the stairs to the kitchens, down a second flight of stairs to the lower caverns, and out into the expanse of the broad weyr bowl.
Morning visitors are rare in some areas, but this is a Weyr and that means travelers often arrive in a span of mere minutes rather than days on runnerback. So perhaps it is not so unusual for a Harper to stride into the Living Cavern looking neat and tidy in slacks and a button up shirt while breakfast is still being served. He has a satchel over his shoulder but business will apparently take a back seat to his stomach, or the food just smells too good. So rather than hunting down his fellow crafters he's prowling the serving table, putting fruit and cheese and rolls drizzled with butter and honey on a plate.
Unfortunately, one of Ista's journeyman harpers isn't much of a morning person. Then again, the subdued way in which she shuffles into the caverns may seem a blessing to a few residents not so fond of the woman's chatter. Yawning, Sora makes her way to the serving tables in her usual pair of black leggings and light blue tunic which falls to just above midthigh. Fingers reach for a plate and she begins to add a few tidbits, accidentally going for the same roll as Matrin and looking up startled. "Sorry! I wasn't paying attention." She grabs another then, walking a few steps before pausing to look back. "Wait…you're a harper. But I haven't seen you around before."
By the time Sorayah is apologizing and reaching for another roll, Matrin has tipped his hand over, unrolling his fingers in a gesture that offers the choice tidbit. "Ladies first," is rich and slightly droll, but it doesn't stop him from adding it the pastry to his own meal anyway when she grabs another. His knot is plain on his shoulder, but from the looks of things Sorayah might need a mug of klah before she's able to be observant, and when she looks back Matrin is wearing a small smile of vague amusement. "That I am. Matrin." The plate gets shifted to one hand so he can offer the other, and he tips his head toward the knot at his shoulder. "This is my first visit to Ista Weyr, which explains that. I'm posted to Xanadu."
Sorayah grins, turning slightly as she offers her own hand. "Nice manners." There's a bit of a wink through still sleepy brown eyes which eventually wander over to the pointed knot. "I thought I saw some Xanadu-ish colors in there." Withdrawing her hand then, she settles down at the closest table and motions to an empty seat across from her, a silent offer to join. "Sora. First time, eh? Have you checked out the beach? Our beaches are pretty amazing. And the plateau is nice too. A lot of places are nice. But Xanadu's a long way off, what's brought you here?" Taking a pause for breathe then, the woman reaches for a mug of klah, holding it against her lips and breathing in the scent rather than taking an actual sip.
Matrin's handshake is firm and warm, and he takes that beat or two to let his eyes slip appraisingly over the Journeyman, and her bit of a wink is answered by an immediate deepening of his smile. "Is that surprising?" One dark brow quirks upward, but he lets her answer while he turns back to fill a mug with plain klah for himself. "A pleasure, Sora," is interjected only when she pauses for breath and klah, and he hooks a seat with a foot, nudging it out so he can lightly lower himself without spilling plate or mug. "I have seen the aerial view of the famous black sand, the bowl, and now the interior of the living cavern. And one posted Harper." His smirk tips to crooked and he settles his meal, absently laying a napkin over his lap as he scoots in. "I thought I might ask to see some of your older records, actually. Though fresh pineapple and mangoes at breakfast is enough to bring me back a next time."
Sorayah grins, "Since you're a harper, not as much as it would've been if you were just some regular guy." A nod and white-toothed smile is flashed in response to his before lashes lower and she finally takes a sip of the klah. "Mmmm. Now I think I'll be able to wake myself up. Nice moves by the way." Her smile turns a bit crooked then as the mug is placed on the table once more and she reaches for the bread roll. In fact, most of her plate consists of nothing but bread-like items. "Well, you should look at the beach from up close, as pretty as it is from the air. Annd you've found one posted Harper that can help you out. But not before breakfast. And if you feel like playing hooky instead of working, this is certainly one Harper that won't tell you off. Our records won't run off anywhere. You should try the rumcakes later, that'll be /more/ than enough to bring you back again…." Sora grins a bit sheepishly then and leans back in her chair, babbling coming to an end for a few more seconds.
Matrin lays a hand to his chest as if the very suggestion that he might be 'just some regular guy' is totally out of the question and maybe even mildly offensive. He can't keep the sparkle out of his eyes or that quirk out of the corner of his mouth though, so it's not a purposefully ineffective ruse. Employing knife and fork to slice fresh fruit into more manageable bites, he pauses to flick a raised brow up at the mention of nice moves, but the rest is more interesting, so that's what he speaks to. "I'm here of my own accord, so hookey probably defeats my purpose. Maybe after I'm finished I will swing by the beach before heading back though. And I wonder if I can get a basket of those rumcakes to take with me." Dropping an elbow to the table, he leans his weight forward a bit, twirling a speared bit of mango as he asks, low and conspiratorial, "Who's the cook I'll need to charm to make that happen? I bet you know."
Sorayah tries her best to hide her smirk behind a slender hand, but the dimples higher along her cheek effectively give away that she's caught on to his little act. "Seriously, don't forget the beach, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." Dark eyes wander over to the twirling piece of mango then and she follows it's track for a few moments before shaking her head. Reaching out for some bread, she tears off a small piece and leans forward as well, pointing with the food still in hand. "You sir, have come to the right Istan." Playfully, she drops her voice, casting a quick glance around before turning back to him. "Look for Luna or Treven. A little flattery and you'll have rumcakes in no time flat." There's certainly no doubt that she's talking from experience.
There is too much breath and not enough sound for Matrin's reaction to rightly be considered a chuckle, but it is close and his wide grin matches until he ruins it by popping that mango into his mouth. His first nod is a wordless promise to check the beach out, and once he swallows he mimics her glance, leaning to see around her as if he could recognize these cooks on sight. "Mmm, I will make a note of those names," he says with a tap of a finger to his temple. "I can do a little flattery. Maybe when I get that far you can point them out, and we can split the bounty."
The words are hardly out of his mouth before Sora's grinning. "Deal!" With a satisfied air, she sits back, popping the little bit of bread and chewing it with her eyes closed. "I'll point them out. You take Luna and I'll get Treven. Sound good? Other way around works too. The point is….we need rumcakes! It's the best food we've ever created." Leaning back then, Sora gives a tiny yawn, covering her mouth politely and shaking her head of the morning cobwebs that had built in over night. "MOrnings…you a morning person? I think I'd fall asleep if I started reading records first thing after waking up."
The sky is clear brilliant blue and there's a light breeze from the west. It's warm.
Her alacrity makes Matrin blink, then slowly shake his head over a sip of klah. "Good thing I don't mind playing right into your pretty little hand, Journeyman." The tone is a bit dry, but his amusement hasn't faded, and a flick of his fingers allows her to choose who 'takes' whom. "I admit I don't think I've ever /had/ rumcakes. I hear your Weyrwoman brews some amazing peach brandy as well, but I imagine that's a bit more difficult to finagle." He sips again while she nods, then rolls a shoulder as he drops back against his chair. "I wasn't always but the Hall sort of demanded it. That or I ended up with persnickety masters. As for now, it's summer back home so I was up a little earlier than you, most likely."
Sorayah grins, "Good thing indeed. If you didn't though, the rumcakes would be hard to come by. Well….harder." Fingers reach for the roll again and she bites off another piece, chewing thoughtfully before freezing completely. There's a quick swallow before her mouth drops open. "You've never had a rumcake before?" Her voice seems rather inundated with horror and the woman gives a quick flick of her fingers. "We're fixing that. As for the brandy…." Sora wrinkles her nose a bit and shrugs. "Alcohol isn't my thing. I don't like it." Which is an understatement, but she is clearly trying to control herself. "Some of the Masters are pretty odd. Mine isn't bad about timing, but he's horrid at choosing clothes. One time he made me dress up in a purple and green polka dotted dress for my performance…." A small shudder runs through her body at the memory, but soon Sora's back to her usual smile. "Winter does that, doesn't it? Just makes me want to curl up and hibernate. Summer is more enjoyable."
Matrin manages to stifle his incredulity at precisely how difficult these cakes might be to get without her help, and instead he just somberly nods. "Well then, I'm a lucky guy, huh?" For her total horror he just grins and shakes his head. "I'm not a big drinker myself, but the brandy's reputation means I would be tempted. Plus a little bird told me our Weyrwoman enjoys it." He starts to tuck into his light meal with more purpose - quick neat bites as Sorayah tells her story, and he gives a sympathetic grimace. "I think I've seen other people with that same master. I thought bright red with royal blue zig zags was fashionable up north or something." He chews slowly for a beat, then tips his head, eyeing her. "Summer's warm, humid, lazy days don't make you want to curl up in the sun?"
His well hidden incredulity is well placed. He probably could've gotten them just as easily without her help….but that'd have been of no help to her. She just needed an excuse to get some for herself. "Little birds? There are a lot of little birds around. I don't actually know who you'd talk to about the brandy, but try the Sable Sands maybe? Or you can ask the other Harpers posted here. They drink." She makes a face at that, clearly not enjoying the practice. "Exactly! That has to be him. There was one time that he gave me this electric blue sort of rubbery leather sort of pants and shirt outfit….That got buried, never to be found again." Picking up her next piece of bread then, Sora leans back, chewing thoughtfully at the thought of curling up in the sun and then shaking her head. "Nah, sunbathing isn't for me. I'd rather be active. Go swimming, hunt for treasure…I don't like sitting still."
Luckily for everyone concerned, Matrin seems pretty willing to just go along with her little scheme when it comes to the rumcakes. As for brandy, he shrugs. "I might do that, but I am sure I can hunt some down another time too. If I was a big drinker it might be more important." He cleans up the last bit of honey with the final smidgen of roll and then wipes his hands before settling back to sip at his klah. "Maybe he missed his calling and he should have been a Weaver instead. Or maybe he just thought that was the best way to accentuate his protege's beauty." And miraculously he even says it with a straight face, though the mug makes a convenient shield soon enough. "Mmm, no sitting still unless it is winter or morning, got it. Harpering isn't the most active craft though - what led you to it?"
Sorayah nods, a tiny hint of approval leaking into her smile. "Well it's good that you're not a big drinker." Waving the subject off though, the young woman finishes off the rest of her roll, moving on to the last piece of bread on her plate and picking at it gently. There's a tiny snort at the comment on her Master then and she wrinkles her nose. "Sweet Faranth. Pern would be in trouble with him as a Weaver. I don't think there's any beauty he was trying to point out though, just a desire to bring attention to his…works of art. Of course, it also gave him a good chance to come out and watch my performances without acting like he was spying. He tries to be subtle." Rolling her eyes a bit, Sora quirks an eyebrow at the mug shield and in a rather immature move, sticks her tongue out at the other Harper for a few seconds. "My mother's a Master. She adopted me and then I grew up at the Hall. With all the music around, the Harpering just came sort of naturally. I love music, however sedentary the craft is."
Narrowed eyes and a puckered brow speak to Matrin's focus as he looks Sorayah over again. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes. "You're lovely, actually. And maybe he was just trying to spice your wardrobe up a bit. You'd look great in a rich mellow gold or some rust I bet." His lips sneak back toward that grin again and he sets his mug down, tossing an ankle up over his knee. "Of course, blue rubber leather stuff is neither gold nor rust, nor light flowing fabrics but maybe he was just… misguided." Her brief bit of history clearly perks his interest, and he folds his hands loose in his lap like settling back for a good tale. "Where were you from before that, do you know? Natural talent is rare, and I know it because I can't even cultivate mine. I need a bucket to carry a tune."
Sorayah bites her lips under the few moments of scrutiny. Eventually looking away to her mug and taking another sip. "Thanks." There's a quick smile before she tilts her head thoughtfully, nodding as he picks out the colors. "I haven't tried mellow gold before. Rust might be ok though. The only orange I've really ever tried was this ruffley monstrosity he put on me…cause he was misguided and all." She gives a bit of a shrug then, finishing off the rest of her roll and pushing aside the now empty plate. "Nope, no idea. I was maybe a few days old when they found me. Dropped me right on the Hall's doorsteps. My parents had just had a daughter and they were nice enough to take me in. My sister was a harper too." Lips twitch up in a slightly amused smile then, and Sora chuckles softly. "Guess there's a bit of a trade-off? I can't read records without falling asleep within 10 minutes."
Since she shows such obvious discomfort, Matrin lets his eyes drop away, and he turns to poke around in the satchel hung over his chair's back. "Hmm, yeah you could pull off bright tangerine here in the summer probably, but I am not sure flat out orange looks good on anyone." He turns back, tossing a sketch pad on the table top and glancing up to snort, "Definitely not with ruffles." A packet of colored pencils come out next and with an absent air he pulls the pad into his lap and starts sketching with broad, loose strokes. "Your parents must be wonderful people. And it sounds like the woman who birthed you got her hope of giving you a better life too." His hand and mouth both falter as she admits not being able to read records and he shakes his head with a tsk. "Next time try to turn it into a song and I bet you'll have better luck."
Sorayah cranes her neck, dark eyes looking over with curiosity as he rummages through the bag. "You think so? Maybe I should try it. And if it's up to me, I'm never wearing ruffles again." When the sketchpad and color pencils are pulled out, the harper raises an eyebrow. "Oh! You can draw? That's pretty neat….and you seem to have a sense of fashion. Maybe you're the one with a bit of a Weaver side." There's a wider smile at the mention of her parents though, reaching her eyes and revealing her dimples. "They're amazing. Don't know what happened with my real parents, but I'm glad the way things turned out." Tsking earns a tiny pout however and Sora shrugs. "I guess I could try that. Some of them are pretty boring though, others not as muh, but I never go near them unless I have to."
"I think so," Matrin confirms. He makes a few more lines, then tucks that pencil between his teeth so he can use another one for a second. "Mmm, I like painting better, but sketching is the first step. Law and maps, that's me. I can sort of play the pipes and I know like three songs on the gitar." His brilliant smile makes an appearance and he shrugs. "Maybe I should have been a Weaver at that, but then who would find all the loopholes in the law?" He winks, then flips the pad around. It's very rudimentary, roughly sketched in, but with the dark curls and curves it's probably supposed to be Sorayah, in a narrow chocolate skirt and a blousy, drapey shirt in deep rust and rich amber. "See, like that. Ish. I couldn't /make/ it though." Another headshake for her dismissal of records and he taps the pencil that's still in his hand. "Without records, no one would know your songs a few turns from now, young lady." A blink. "Do you write, or just play?"
Sorayah sighs, "I can't draw or paint at all. It's pretty impressive! Instruments I know about though. Lute's my personal favorite." His smile is returned with an equall bright one of her own before eyes are brought down to the sketch and she lets out an appreciative whistle. "That's really good! Especially for a quick sketch." Taking a final sip of her klah then, Sora finishes it off and pushes it away. "Well, it's a good thing you can't make it otherwise you'd be over there. And like you said, we need someone to find all those tiny little loopholes." She eyes the tapping pencil for a bit before giving a begrudging nod. "You're right…they're important. Not always fun to read though, /that/ you have to admit." She doesn't seem particularly adamant about his agreeing though, despite the words. "Write and play…and sing too. The Sable Sands is my regular haunt."
Now that she's had her glance, Matrin tosses his sketch stuff back into the bag. "It's not really good but thank you, and you get the idea." He runs a hand over his own rather spiffy shirt, vivid blue with a touch of sisal in the blend, and shrugs. "I like clothes, I guess. People judge on appearances too often, so you might as well leave them with a good impression, right?" That dark brow goes up again, then he just grins and nods. "They are not always fun to read, you are right. I like the idea of solving mysteries, and the records hold the clues. But sometimes really they're just about flour and wherries, and that's not entertainment, even to me." Another little pause, and he gathers up his bag. "So after you show me to the records room I should hit the beach, and wrap up the day at the Sable Sands? With a break for rumcakes in there somewhere. Is that what I'm gathering?"
Sorayah shrugs, "It's better than the stick-figurey things that I draw. Maybe not though. I have to say, my stick figures are a work of art." An attempt at saying that straight faced is made, but the harper can't really help but crack a smile. Dark eyes glance over as he smoothes down his shirt and she tilts her head. "True. Especially important when you're meeting the important types and such." She falls silent for a bit then, smile spreading across her face as she listens to his talk on records. "I see the appeal in it. The mysteries and everything. But that's work for someone with patience, like you. I'll leave both the fun and unfun stuff to you." Leaning back then, she gives another little yawn, beginning to gather her plates as well. "Hmmm. Where'd you gather that?" Sora shoots him a rather wicked but knowing grin. Taking a step or two away from the table before looking over her shoulder. "But I really think that's the best plan for a day at Ista. Don't need to change anything up."
Somber, but wryly so, Matrin nods. "Even the humble stick figure has its place to be sure. When you were a kid did you ever make one of those little books? When you flip through it the stick figure moves?" The smile that accompanies that reminiscing moment marks it as a fond one, and the curve of his lips only deepens as she shoots him that wicked grin. "You should take on an Apprentice or two because your instructions are clear and convincing both," he quips. "Do you have a few minutes to take me to the records room? Maybe direct me to the corner with the old and dusty stuff? I am looking for anything that might have been passed down from Ancients about the Xanadu area. I know-" he breaks off, holding up a hand. "It's a stretch. But rumcakes and the beach will keep the day from being a waste."
"Exactly. Never underestimate the stick figure." There's a bit of a smirk though as Sora heads off to drop off her dishes. "Yeah…but my little flippy books were more….unique than most." It doesn't take long for her to return, a smile still on her face. "Yeah? Maybe I should. If I've got someone specializing in law telling me that, there must be at least a little truth to it." Scooping up his plate then, Sora takes a few steps, motioning for him to follow. "Course, lucky for you my shift isn't until later today. And sure, it may be a bit of a stretch but like you said, rumcakes make it all better. Rumcakes make everything worth it. Besides, Ista's pretty nice, no?"
When she takes his plate, Matrin clears his throat and hurries after her, but it's not far to the place where they are supposed to be dropped off, so he doesn't reach her in time to snatch them back. It leaves him tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Well, thank you. For the dishes and the Istan advice and the tour guiding business as well." He pulls one hand out of its pocket nest and crooks an elbow to offer her his arm. "Lucky me, indeed. And yes, so far Ista is pretty nice."
"Hey, you gave me fashion advice and such. Dropping off the dishes isn't a big deal. Besides, it's a bit of pay-off for helping with the rumcake scheme." When the elbow is offered, she slips her hand into the crook with a dimpled grin and points towards the entryway with her free hand as indication of direction. "You're welcome though. Of course, part of it's just me being a show off. I like it when people like Ista, cause I like it…. of course, I'm slightly biased." She chuckles a bit, stepping forward then and heading in the direction she'd indicated.
"Exactly. Never underestimate the stick figure." — My sentiments as well ;) And oh man, someone at Ista likes our Harper boy. We'll have to make sure he stays interested in us. Muhahaa!
I reject your reality and substitute my own.