Xanadu Weyr - Meadow
// A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of weyrs, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves. The meadow continues with gentle rolls and dips, grass tall and short waving in the slightest of breezes, and eventually those hills grow higher and steeper, ending in a large rige that provides a fine view of that meadow and the rest of the Weyr, gazing out over the multicolored roofs of the houses and the cliff that holds the caverns.
Runner stables with the paddock beyond are to the south beyond the meadow weyrs, and a smithy and a woodcraft shop are settled closer in towards the path to the clearing. Trees border the northern side of the meadow, and more of those low, rolling hills can be seen to the northwest. A road passes through the meadow, coming from the east and used by traders and crafters alike. Wagons laden with felled trees from the forests or ore from the mountains are hauled by burden beast up the road through the meadow, over the bridge spanning the river to be processed in the appropriate workshops.
//
There's only the most cheerful of whistling coming up from the forest edge. It's a lilting melody offered, a rise and fall of cadence and whimsy that speaks to a dancing soul. What follows, well… isn't quite a dance, unless it's speaking to the grand one that follows us all. A lean blonde woman, young and strong for her frame, carries the field-cleaned carcass of a juvenile wherry slung across her shoulders. She doesn't seem to really mind the lethargic ooze of remnant blood inching down her left shoulder. Taeli, Xanadu; Xanadu, Taeli. It makes it all the more bizarre that it's freakin' dawn.
From the back of an older and very familiar, at least to the oldsters here, green dragon, slides a yung woman. Tallish, with curly black hair qnd glasses, she's dressed for work, and has a smile on her face. "Thanks, Ma, and I promise, I won't get trapped in the kitchen by rampaging ovines…" Even as Shellie and her green (ooc: which I can't for the life of me remember the name of,)depart, Taeleena turns around, and starts to make her way towards the weyr proper, when she hears the whistling. She ooks around, and smiles at another yung woman, a bit younger than her, with a wae. Noting the Wherry carcass, the Bakercrafter makes her way over.
There's no better time to claim the meadow for oneself than the early hours of the day, when most are either asleep or too lethargic to attempt extended conversation. Nessalyn perches atop a stool 'borrowed' from somewhere, legs crossed in an awkwardly delicate balance as she takes up more surface area than the seat has to offer. The techcrafter idly twists a few strands of wire between her fingers as she reads over the tome that rests in her lap, occasionally pausing to make a short note or scowl accusingly down at the page. There's a tensing of her shoulders at the sound of cheery whistling, but she doesn't look up, adhering to the old idea that what you can't see can't see you either.
JUST WAIT NESSALYN, Taeli is coming to drip blood all over your ostrich self. It's true though: the hunter is heading that way, her strides steady and measured under the weight of the wherry on her shoulders. Her jaunty whistling ceases after a while, and she tosses up in cheerful soprano, "Good morn!" to the bakercrafter heading her way.
WRONG, NESS. WRONG. Because EEEEYYYYY! Who is dropping those SICK BEATS? See, Taeli and Taeleena and Nessalyn aren't the only three lurking around Xanadu Weyr at dawn, and certainly not the only ones who… okay, words are failing but listen. There's a big, gold, gravid dragon who wouldn't know the meaning of boundaries and keep your mind to yourself if it slapped her in that mustard-yellow maw. So she projects. TO EVERYBODY. It's bass, and drums, and a heady beat that swells and lends a backdrop to songs that she doesn't know and didn't start but makes her own. SHE ALSO is the worst and drops her head down by Nessalyn, because she remembers you, and while the queen doesn't pursue contact, she certainly invades, and waits, and fixates her eyes on wherries and blood and ladies saying goodbye to their parents. « HELLO MINIONS. » Yep. That's definitely not your imagination. That house party making every brain cell melt with her bombastic mind is Leirith, and that probably means there is a Risali nearby. Or maybe she's hiding. In shame. Because LISTEN TAKE MY META RAMBLES AND LIKE IT.
Taeleena notices the techcrafter as well, and turns her cheerful grin Ness-ward, obviously belying the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Trall theory of hiding. "Greetings all, and Bakercraft's duties to Xanadu." Her eye is drawn back to the wherry, in professional interest. After all, while poisted to the Dolphincraft Hall, she often finds herseof brought into kitchens all over pern (being the daughter of riders is a blessing AND a curse.) "How is everyone this morn…" She trails off, wincing as Leirith (the gold's reputation proceeds her) makes her loud appearance. "Oh goodness, the Baker girl mutters…"
The blood isn't a problem, it's the general existence of humanity and cheery whistling and WHAT IS THAT?? Nessalyn's head shoots up as drums invade and she feels a sudden, acute headache starting somewhere behind her eyes. "Not again," is groaned with a glance to the skies, searching for any kind of storm-threatening clouds which might send down a bolt of lightning to strike her where she sits. "Leirith." It's a greeting, at least, albeit one tainted with annoyance. Although she's aware of the gold's proximity, she fights the urge to glance in that direction, instead mumbling a general, "Morning, everyone," in about the most reluctant tone she can muster.
whoa wtf is this mess? Tae's eyes go dramatically wide and she stumbles a step when THERE ARE DRUMS IN HER HEAD — she misses Taeleena's momentary greeting in her goat-footed replacement of feet in areas to steady the weight over her shoulder, then she's craning her attention up (and up and up) to the gold above. "Uh." Wide-eyed and baffled, she takes a little step to the side. Closer to Nessalyn. THAT BLOOD'S COMING FOR YOU. "Ma'am?" it's more of a question, her blue eyes darting from Leirith to the techcrafter and then back over to Taeleena. PS: her wherry is glorious and lovely and is going to make a mighty fine dinner for someone (or multiple someones) tonight.
« YES AGAIN. I KNEW THAT YOU MUST HAVE MISSED ME AND SO I AM HERE. DO NOT FRET, IT IS NO THING. » And there's that laughter, that boom of sound to punctuate a voice that even now seems to radiate only cheer; there's no hint of sarcasm, no hint of reproach, no hint of anything remotely queenly about this queen. And maybe she's loud, but she still hears Taeleena. « NOT GOODNESS, MINION. MY NAME IS LEIRITH. I AM A BADASS. » BADUM, TSH. There's a swish and a sway of that too-big body, a tilt of her head as she moves as if to boop Taeleena, or Nessalyn, or maybe even correct Taeli's footing, but she just DROPS HER HEAD ONTO THE FLOOR, RIGHT THERE, RIGHT IN THE MIDSTS OF THEM ALL. A wuffle for Taeli, humor and amusement communicated through bass and drums and — « You may call me your fierce leader, and I will call you minion. » Don't worry, Taeli. She's mostly joking. Probably. Kind of. DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT, because here comes Risali, positively dwarfed by her dragon and not at all letting that dissuade her from reaching out to SMACK a snout. "Leirith," is exhaled with exasperation, the queenrider void her knot but in her leathers, too-much black hair pulled into a messy bun and looking as if she might just be a victim of the plague given the dark circles under her eyes. Still, she forces a smile for the three gathered — one that hedges towards awkward and settles somewhere around 'Why is this my life?' "Ah, greetings…" comes softly, hesitantly, as she scans three people and only recognizes one. "Welcome to Xanadu Weyr…?" SHE'S A BUSY WOMAN, OKAY. Though Nessa is getting an almost-apologetic grimace, then a shrug of one shoulder because have you met Leirith?
Taeleena rolls her eyes in exhasperation, though she's well used to dragon behavior. After all, her Da's brown used to hide in the shadows of this very weyr and grin at people, while her cousin's dragon is an honorary member opf her own craft. "No, Ma'am, but I do know of her reputation. Leitrith is legendary among riders." Faranth knows what /THAT/ is going to do the the ego of the bombastic gold. "But I rarely make it to Xanadu, especially since Ma and Da retired to Honshu. (Not long after she and her youngest half sister were born, mind you. "I'm Taeleena, Posted Bakercraft Journeywoman to Dolphincraft hall, and daughter of T'maz, ridee of Brown Dementh, and Shellie, Rider of green Rieselth." Long winded introduction indeed, but she tries to be polite as possible. Then, she waits, anticipating the retun introductions.
"She's not mine," Nessalyn grunts out quickly, lest anyone unfamiliar with Xanadu attribute that noise to her. "I didn't-" Miss Leirith, that's for sure, but the beset techcrafter seems to recognize the futility of the protest before she voices it. "The Weyrwoman must be around here somewhere." And speak of the devil. While Nessalyn harbors mixed feelings for the woman's association with such a cacophony, she's a welcome arrival for the moment. "Don't get blood on my books, it stains." The surety with which she addresses these words to Taeli might raise a few questions, but as soon as she speaks her head drops back down to her reading.
"Who…" See Taeli, in all of her close-on adolescent glory, her very sheltered glory, staring up at Leirith with something akin to gobsmacked awe fearful worship. Whatever. She's a kid and this gold is HUGE and BOLD and hello did anyone hear THOSE WORDS IN HER HEAD? So of course the hunter awkwardly does a bow-cursy-thing, a boot behind the other, a bob of the wherry. "Fierce leader," she replies with a voice that wavers only a little between fear and holy shit my family is NOT going to believe this happened to me. Wait. There's people here. "Uhmn. Uhmn." She has a name but she's blanked in the moment. "Taeli." And then she's bobbing again to everyone, most especially Risali but y'know, everyone, and maybe that bob slings a little of that oozing blood towards Nessalyn. What? "Stains, wait, what?" Her voice is a real heathen thing, a fisherwoman's scrawl in a younger vein.
Don't mind Risali putting her hand over her mouth and pushing it against her lips. She's not trying not to laugh at Taeli — honest. She's probably just, you know, keeping the plague at bay. Or something. "Faranth, don't encourage her," comes breathily, hinting at that laughter that Risali is definitely not stifling when she turns her attention onto Taleena and those grey eyes fixate, watching the younger woman speak with an expression that's unreadable if only because her hand is IN THE WAY. Then she drops it, and that smile is pulling too far to the side, affecting another grimace that's interrupted by a soft sound in Risali's throat, and then a hesitant, "Well met, Taeleena. I'm Risali." Notice she does not use her title, or elaborate on her being Leirith's rider because LEIRITH IS HER OWN FORCE OF NATURE. Still, those grey eyes flicker toward Nessalyn, toward her book that gets stared after for a moment too long before — « SEE, MINION. I AM LEGEND. THIS TINY MINION BOWS BEFORE MY GREATNESS AND CALLS ME LEADER. THEY DO NOT TELL STORIES OF YOU. IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT. » And no really, it's like she's broken, because all of those words are too bombastic and too cheerful and have Risali rolling her eyes and landing a very undignified elbow on one of Leirith's haunches. But there's a soft huff of laughter to echo Leirith's boom of amusement, an uttered, "Shut up, Leirith," before the Weyrwoman turns her attention back onto the trio. A beat, two, three and — nope. That just happened too. Risali is definitely turning away quick and wretching. EUUUGH. Leirith? She laughs. And gives commentary. IT'S ENOUGH. Maybe a bronze hears or somebody telephones because EYYYYYY. HERE COMES A SUPER TALL BRONZERIDER, who is ducking into the meadow with a long stride and a soft curse and perhaps a couple of apologies as he catches up, holds Risali's hair, and rubs her back for the duration of her sick. And when she's done, there's a polite enough, "Excuse us," as he leads his weyrmate away. Leirith? She BOOMS laughter. « I AM NOT THE ONLY GRAVID ONE. » she informs, because she is rude and bad at surprises, but if nobody rucks, or tucks and rolls, then every. single. woman. is getting a noseboop before the gold lumbers after her rider. « DECORATE THE WEYR IN BLOOD, MY MINIONS. » MOOHAHAHAHA!
Taeleena tilts her own head politely, then moves over to help the young huntress with her wherry. "Here, Taeli. Let me take that for you. And don't worry. They're all unque, and all wonderful." Obviously the Baker isn't afraaid of a bit of blood and juices, since she cooks them all the time. "And well met to you as well Risali." If the weyrwoman want informal, she gets informal. Nessalyn is again grinned at, as, if the techcrafter offered her name, it was missed in Lerith induced cacophany.
Nessalyn lifts her gaze just enough to watch Taeli from beneath her lashes, arching a brow as the girl attempts some sort of greeting to the gold. "Nice," she mutters, her tone rich in sarcasm. She shakes her head a little, awaiting the no doubt loud reaction that's to come for Taeli's obedience. One hand lifts to press fingertips to her brow, rubbing at that spot where the sharp pain seems to be focusing. She has almost managed to withdraw back into herself when something splatters across the page, and suddenly Risali is retching and Nessalyn looks up with a sharp, dark scowl. "What are you even doing?" Seriously, people. "There's blood on my notes, and-" Uh, what? One brow arches at Leirith declares her rider's condition, swatting half-heartedly at the gold's noseboop. Taeleena's smile is met with frustration confusion, and a demand that extends to the scene at large: "What just happened?"
Listen, Taeli is DEFINITELY on her way to sufficiently executing Fierce Leader's dictates regarding blood and decorations. The young woman crinkles her brow as the weyrwoman turns away to hurl the contents of her stomach, and grunts as she adjusts the weight she's carrying. "Why does your nose have to itch always when you can't get to it?" she complain-questions to Taeleena, 'cause it's at the top of her mind. "Oh no. I got it. I've got to get it to the assistant steward or it doesn't count for my count." She clutches at the wings of her wherry possessively with all the lack of guile that youth brings. "I think she's pregnant!" the blonde enthusiastically fills in for Nessalyn, at volume. Maybe Leirith's damaged her ears. Proverbially.
Taeleena nods in undersatanding and lets the young hunter handle her load, as she turns to make sure the Weyrwoman is all right, then smiles as she's taken away. "Hmmm, sure sounds like morning sickness." She may not be precisely an expert on it herself, being the youngest daughter, but growing up the daughter of a healer, she picks up some things at least. She turns to Nessalyn. "Did you get anything on you? If you need, I can help transcribe the notes, and any blood in the clothes, just soak them in cold water before washing." A definitely expert tone this time, hardly surprising. A chef often faces that particular job hazard.
"Because misery is the only surety in this world," Nessalyn answers in a voice rich in faux-cheer. Leirith was the sugar high, and now Ness is here to provide the painful crash. She shoots Taeli a look out of the corner of her eye, silently chastizing the girl for her lack of volume control. "I assumed that was what Leirith meant," she responds dryly, biting her tongue to keep further words at bay. Better to just not. "No idea." She glances down at her clothes, giving them a cursory once-over which results in nothing, but that's not to say that the blood entirely missed her. "Don't you have your own work to do?" she asks of Taeleena, regarding the girl with suspicion. "You keep offering to do everyone else's."
Blue-eyed gaze swaps between the misanthrope and cheery baker a couple times, Taeli visibly chewing on her lower lip as she determines what the flip to do right about now. "Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay then!" she says, resetting her bloody load across her shoulders and taking off for the weyr proper without saying goodbye. Effing rude child, but you know, can you really expect much better from a daughter of a fisherman? She's still gobsmacked over wtf happened earlier. And then, belatedly, twenty paces away she turns around, wherry and all, and shouts, "BYE!" at the two girls before trotting off to find her steward.
Taeleena waves to Taeli, a bemsed look on her face. "Well met, and I look forward to trussing up and roasting that fine bird tonight for evening meal." She turns to Nessalyn. "Just trying to stay occupied. I was brought in to help the Master Chef out tonight, and they won't need me until after the noon meal. " A curious expression is given Nessalyn, as the Baker lady shrugs. "But Ma had to go to Healer Hall early today, and Da's busy with the food stall he owns at Honshu this morning, so couldn't bring me until after I was needed.
Nessalyn is unphased by Taeli's abrupt departure, unbothered by the apparent rudeness of simply turning tail and leaving a conversation. It's a tactic with which she's very familiar, after all. If anything, the brunette appears relieved to have one less person in proximity to herself. "Don't they always need something in the kitchens?" They always seem to be bustling about in there, at least. She flicks her finger across the page of her notes, smearing a blood droplet out toward the edge. The smudge on her finger is inspected for a moment before she scrubs her finger against her knee, rubbing blood into her pants. "Or take the morning off. You go around offering to do things for strangers and someone will take advantage of you."
Taeleena smirks. "Oh, Faranth help anyone who tries to take advantage of me. How long have yiou been here at Xanadu?" She does seem to be prying, but continues. "If you've been here long enough, you might have heard tell of when my Ma was the senior weyrhealer here… I may be a different craft, but I /AM/ my mother's daughter…" And, indeed, Shellie is sill legend arunbd Xanadu for her sharp tongue, quick temper, and flat out durability (mostly for getting shot in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt, trampled twice by a giant ram, and STILL ruling over the infirmary with an iron fist…
"You just gave both of us the opportunity," Nessalyn observes, her expression carefully detatched. There's a twitch of her lips as Taeleena questions her, that shift in her expression is quickly schooled. "I haven't been here that long. I've been working on my craft." There are already a pair of pliers hidden in the knot of hair at the back of her head, and that little twist of wires is serving as an impromptu bookmark. "Never heard of your mother."
Taeleena shakes her head, "Offering to help is NOT letting someone taker advantage of you. I offer to, yes, I'm willing to help. They ask me to? I can say no if I don't want to. They assume, and they damned well are going to be disappointed." She's not phased by the fact that Ness had never heard anyhing of her Ma other than the very brief appearance to drop ff the baker and the relatively short mention. "I'm friendly and helpful. But I am NOT gullible."
"Being friendly and helpful is being gullible. You've fallen into the trap of believing that being friendly and helpful is somehow a good thing." Nessalyn plucks up the twisted wires, wrapping them around her fingertip until the skin turns crimson at the top from the pressure. "It's a common mistake."
Taeleena shakes her head. "I suspect that we will have to agree to disagree there, to be honest. I'm not the sort of person who likes to lock myself away from people, and certainly not a misanthrope. There are too many nice people out there, and, frankly, whjile I know that there are people out there who would try to take advantage of others, I think that most folks are basically descent."
Nessalyn laughs, but there's an edge to the sound which hardens it into something other than humor. "You'll learn. Most people learn eventually." And that seems to be all the techcrafter is willing to say on the subject. "I have blood on me." She unfolds herself from her stool, grimacing as stiff joints stretch out. "Enjoy being friendly and helpful." With that, the woman cradles her blood-spattered book in her arms and makes for shelter, leaving her pilfered stool behind her.
Taeleena get in a parting shot. "Don't forget. Cold water."
Nessalyn washes everything in in hot water out of spite.