Is Snow or Sand Greener? (Padjma is Searched!)

Fort Weyr - Lower Caverns
This volcanic bubble is smaller than the Living Cavern, but no less well crafted. The walls are smooth, with electric lights placed into niches that used to hold glowbaskets. Another hearth burns here, with a pot on always keeping water hot for making tea or cider. Worn but comfortable couches and chairs are arranged by the hearth around a few tables where game boards and a few packages of dragon poker cards are laying.
From this cavern you can get to many other places - the tunnels of Fort Weyr having been dug far back into the caldera where the Dragons make their home.

Snowfall has been a more-or-less steady companion to those running around the Fort region this afternoon; where it's cold without, the caverns are warm within — although perhaps, not warm enough for the dark-haired girl who joins the foot traffic merging from the living cavern into the corridors beyond, a soft hat still pushed down over the tops of her ears and hands still stuffed deep into coat pockets. Ducking past a small group of rather animated crafters, Padjma doesn't begin unwrapping from her outerwear until she's right next to the nearest hearth, carefully depositing her jacket, hat and gloves into an empty chair nearby with an exhalation of relief before angling herself to better have one eye on the fire and one on the passersby, hands stretching eagerly toward the source of warmth.

"You saving this seat or???" Somebody just drip-drip-dripped her way through the caverns to the hearth looking like she practically rolled around in a snowbank. Maybe because she did. Rhodelia's flight jacket is conveniently dry and bundled up under her arm where any knot or insigna is probably not visible and so for the moment, she's eyeing options of how to get closest to the fire and comfy at the same time and Padja's accessories chair is getting some serious consideration.

"Saving — oh, no, no, I'm not, " says Padjma quickly, eyes widening as her expression turns briefly apologetic. "Sorry, I shouldn't have, " and there's a shrug to fill in the beat that she leaves while scrambling to recollect her (still slightly damp) belongings. "Here, " she invites with a nod toward the empty-again chair, side-stepping to deposit the bundle in her arms onto an adjacent, hard-backed seat. There's a glance downward for the faintly damp footprints that still linger in her wake once she's quite still again, followed by the awkward, if friendly sort of smile one offers a stranger who might, at least for now, be in the same sort of boat.

Those belongings would have been a lot more than damp if Rhodelia had dripped her way onto them. But she's all grins as the seat is cleared and she slips on in, hands outstretched towards the fire a bit, ignoring the little chattering of her teeth. She does have the jacket right there in her lap if she really needed to warm up quick. "Thank you! Never thought I'd be so happy to see snow again, you know?" Anyone with an ear for accents would probably place her's as somewhere in Benden where snow shouldn't be lacking this time of turn.

There's a moment where Padjma's brow briefly wrinkles into the predecessor of a tiny frown, but it dissolves soon enough into something more thoughtful than not. Wistfully, "It's awfully pretty, isn't it? And peaceful in its own way. I don't think I'll ever tire of looking at it. I just wish it were a little warmer." It's followed by a sniffle that manages to be dainty in the way that her sleeve absently rising to brush it away isn't.

The mention of warmer gets a bit of a laugh from Rhodelia which quickly turns into a bit of a cackle that goes on a bit too long until she has to stop to catch her breath, finger reaching up to wipe away a laugh-tear from her eye. "Little warmer. I've been stuck in a place where it's all TOO warm. Grass is always greener. Or whiter maybe. And snow covered. I'd take the white and snowcovered right now. Back home… I swore I was melting." Even if she looks like she's melting right now from those wet clothes.

Too warm. That elicits a sidelong look from the younger woman, one that drops after a few moments to better study the fire that's presently their shared source of comfort. "I know the feeling, " offers Padjma a touch wryly without looking up, "but I'm not sure which extreme is preferable at the end of the day. Maybe if you're able to stay long enough, the heat of home will feel comforting when you get back." She ends, however, on a rather dubious-sounding note, one that she buries into a little cough as one hand absently begins patting for something in her trouser pocket, drawing forth a genuine frown and a shift to root through one of her outerwear pockets when it comes up empty.

"I don't think there's much chance of me being able to stay long. Will get called back before too long. But if you're interested in testing out which extreme fits your preference… I might be able to find a ticket to the hot end. For science," even as she's giving the offer, Rhodelia's unfolding her jacket a bit. Enough that there's a hint of Xanadu's insignia and perhaps some golden knot thread in there as well.

"Me too, " Padjma confesses before a little crinkle heralds her fishing out a thrice-folded bit of paper with undisguised relief. "Getting called back to work, I mean." Even as her posture has eased slightly while they've been warming themselves, tension pulls her neck and shoulders briefly taut. "The hot end, " she repeats warily, gaze catching on those unfolding movements as her weight slowly shifts back onto the heel farthest from Rhodelia. "Where?" That was a blurt; her cheeks begin to pink.

Rhodelia isn't offended by blurting. In fact, the grin grows as she dangles out, "Xaaaaanaduuuu! Could be a nice Southern vacation from work. Well… this work. Trade it for some work there. And for real. I wasn't kidding about it being hot. If you're wanting to come well… pack some snow with you while you can!" That might only be slight hyperbole from the goldrider.

Padjma's head tilts slightly, eyes more gray than green as she listens. "I've never been so far south." It's almost idly offered, even as the remainder of the other woman's words seem to settle in. More cautiously: "Wait. Work there? Are you — offering me some kind of job? Because I already have one that I like, " here, "that I don't think I could just up and leave without some notice." Even if she wanted to.

"You're at a Weyr… you're young… these things happen! At least, if you want to," Rhodelia says with a shrug. "Notice… not so much, but if you wanted could have time to grab some things. It's not so much a job job even if there'd be work attached. We have some eggs on the Sands and Inasyth's been complaining that the barracks are much to barren. Have some spare bunks that need filling."

These things do happen, but not to her — not, perhaps, until now. Padjma's lips part just enough to complete her expression of unabashed surprise; it's a moment, then two before she manages, "I'd need — a little time. I really can't go without telling my superior, and she's a busy person. If I can secure permission to go, would it be alright if someone here brought me over soon, like - later today or tomorrow? I don't want to hold you up from getting back home." Not quite reluctantly, "It would be quite an adventure to go somewhere new." Another somewhere new.

Adventure might as well be Rhodelia's middle name if Pern actually had more than first names. But the mention of needing some time, she nods even as she pulls out a white knot from her jacket pocket. "Yeah… most people do need at least a couple hours or two to get their things in order before moving continents for a few months. At least got the knot in case your superior doesn't believe you. And I'll send someone for you. Around… dinner time? I would normally stay and pay my respects to Inri but well… brooding dragon on another continent in the sharding hottest summer I can remember. Think she'd understand the need for snow and the need to get away without being all… official."

"A few months, " sighs Padjma ruefully. "I suppose it's better than a few turns." Gingerly, she extends a hand to secure the knot between thumb and forefinger, hastily balling it up into her fist to make it disappear into her front pocket. "Dinner time, " might be more echo than agreement, followed by a curious glance. Two and two finally (partially!) meet enough for her to add, "I'm sure the respects could get passed along if you wanted, ma'am." Meanwhile, she makes moves to gather up her wintry wear — and she might be forgiven for darting a near-furtive look around to make sure that no one nearby took especial interest in their little hearthside chat.

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License