Hanging Out By The Eggs

Xanadu Weyr - Observation Level

Dark blue seats form a semi-circle around the sands below, the lowest row separating from the sands themselves by merely a railing. The seats climb upwards, each row a bit higher then the previous, and they are broken up into sections by 3 sets of staircases. Lights are evenly spaced along the outer wall, lighting the seats and the sands easily, though they tend to be dimmed unless a major event is taking place. A large balcony looms overhead, darkening some of the seats, providing a place for observers of the draconic kind to watch without obstructing the view for others.

When one looks over the railing, the oddly hued sand below can be seen easily, the circle-shaped area of the sands spread out to the far walls, the sand itself a unique mixture of red and white grains.

e-on's wrists and forearms have never been this clean. Ever. Not for years. The kitchen duty of the morning passed slowly, as the lumberjack was steered away from much cooking assistance to getting to help with the cleaning instead, perhaps as punishment for being bulky and in the way in the kitchens when he first arrived to assist with duties there. Regardless, he came out of it damp but as clean as the dishes, and brought a full basket of assorted food to the sands when he was finally freed later in the day. It's midday, warm and comfortable, the excess of uneaten lunch to one side on one of the seats of the observation area. Relion himself is down at the simple bar that separates the observers from the sands itself, looking out at the eggs and dragons, expression thoughtful, distant.

Pora has perhaps had better luck with her chore selection for the day. She's stuck with mending duty, and is saddled with a large basket of tattered clothes, swatches of cloth for patching, and a sewing kit. The beauty of this chore is, you can do it anywhere. So where else would she choose but the hatching galleries? She's settled in a seat near the front of the gallery, sewing shut a rip in someone's pants as she looks at the eggs. She doesn't notice Relion until he's practically right there. "Oh! Hi." She says quietly, as if worried about disturbing the golds.

Ashkeia arrives burdened only with her sketchpad and a small pouch, no evidence to tell of whatever her morning's assigned chore was. None but the faint odour of sweet hay and grain that still clings to her clothing, anyway. Glancing around, when she notices there are people already present, she turns herself to approach them. Voice soft, pitched just enough to carry, "Hey there." A smile for them both, though the one for Pora is slightly warmer, she being the more familiar figure.

Relion angles his gaze back, with a roll of shoulder to look over it without lifting his forearms from resting, at ease, on the guardrailing, and immediately offers a brief sincere smile back to Pora. "Hey," he greets, quiet, the low quality of his voice particularly apparent when he's not trying to be loud. "Pora," he identifies after a few moments. Maybe he's not very good with names; but he got it. He looks to Ashkeia as well, with a tip of head in greeting. "I probably don't have to ask what brings you here," Relion chuckles.

Pora looks back over her shoulder at the greeting from Ashkeia, a warm smile crossing her face. "Oh, Ash! Hi! Good to see you… you done with chores for the day?" She glances back to Relion, then points at him with the sewing needle in her hand. "This is Relion. The boy I was telling you about." She says before resuming her work on the stitch. She then answers Relion. "Just got mending duty today. Not too much left. What about you?"

"The heat?" Ashkeia pipes in with a chuckle of her own, for a reason for being there. "The old aunties and uncles always get the best seats by the hearths in the caverns." She shakes her head at Pora as she settles into a nearby seat, setting her sketchbook and pouch down beside herself. "Not exactly, but close enough. Janecin's wife demanded he attend her today, though — she's almost ready to pop with their third — and I wasn't about to look a gift runner in the mouth. Spent the morning in the stables, and I ache." Brown eyes lift then to study Relion more closely, her expression faintly amused. "Oh. Nice to meet you, Relion. I'm Ash. Ashkeia." With Pora's query to the young man hanging, she doesn't add her own.

"Kitchens," Relion says, in a markedly … pitiful tone, which may be outright laughable from the large woodcrafter, with his rather tortured expression. He turns partially off the rail, with a sad gesture of palm over to the basket of unclaimed food to the side. "Speaking of that, though, if you're hungry, I brought more than enough to the sands," Relion offers, warming a little bit. Hard to talk about food and stay depressed, really. "Hi, Ashkeia," Relion adds, smild mild.

Pora concentrates in silence for a moment as she finishes with the stitch, then transfers the pants to the pile of finished clothing. She grabs a shirt from the pile which is still a work in progress, and starts searching for the holes. "If you want heat, you should pay the hot springs a visit. Now that I'm used to them, they're a wonderful way to relax after chores for the day… especially on cold days." She peeks up at Relion, a hopeful smile on her face. "What'd you bring?"

Ashkeia ducks her head and covers her mouth, clearing her throat to suppress a laugh at Relion's pitiable expression. "Those cooks can be a scary bunch," she observes lightly. "So where'd you get plucked from?" Leaning back with a little wince, she stretches her legs out and nods towards Pora. "Oh yes, I plan on stopping in there when things have quieted down for the evening. So much nicer than heating water up in kettles to pour into a tub."

Relion bahs at it being 'cold'. "Cold?" Relion laughs, surprised, apparently, by that. "It's not that cold here. Bah. You have it easy," he teases lightly. "Come haul lumber in Fort Weyr in the icy sleet for most of the year, put some hair on your chest," Relion invites to Pora. To answer Ashkeia's question, he adds, "Out on a job for my craft, 'plucked', out of nowhere," and then looks towards the basket, as if needing a few moments to recall what's left. "Ah, fresh baked breads. Some cheeses…" he steps away from the railing fully to check it. There looks to be some salted meat, and a cream and spice spread to mingle with the other flavors. "I wouldn't say scary, but they decided I was best at cleaning, not creating," Relion adds 'innocently'.

"It's a wonderful way to relax." Pora agrees with Ashkeia. "But then, so is being here, in it's own way. Amazing to think actual dragons will come out of those little eggs down there, isn't it?" Pora says with a wistful look at the eggs before remembering her task and resuming stitching. "It snows sometimes, but only in winter. I heard some turns the lake freezes." She says as she puts another patch on the shirt, then stuffs it with the finished ones. She reaches out to grab one of the breads from Relion's basket. "Thanks!"

Ashkeia shudders theatrically, bringing her hands up to rub at her arms. "Oof, don't remind me about Northern winters! I happily admit to being a wimp; give me nice balmy days with lots of sunshine, please. You do have a point though. It's not really that bad here when you compare it to Fort." She grins a bit at Pora's musing, "I'm looking forward to when Seryth's clutch hatches, since we can watch from up here. I'm hoping I can get some good sketches of the hatchlings. Have you ever attended one before? Living so close, and all." Glancing back at Relion, her look turns sympathetic. "Ahh. Yeah, I'd rather peel or chop than wash dishes."

Relion smiles as Pora helps herself to the contents of the basket. When the eggs come up as a topic, he looks back out onto the sands, at what they can see, anyway, of the eggs from this vantage point. "I haven't been to a hatching, no. Always busy with something else, but… it wasn't really something I had any reason to go see, before," Relion says, thoughtfully. And chuckles at Ashkeia's commentary about peeling. "It's all right. I figure I won't be in there every day," he says, a sunshine to the optimism.

Pora nibbles on her bread roll, taking a little break from her mending. "No, I've never seen a hatching. Only seen eggs for the first time recently. Dad didn't want me visiting the weyrs when I was much younger. 'Cause of, y'know. The stories." She has another big bite. "Mmmm. Good bread. Anyways… you draw, too? You must be a really creative person." She looks back up at Relion as she finishes the roll. "I don't mind kitchens so much. I'll trade you."

Ashkeia 'oh's softly, nodding at Relion before she tilts her head at Pora. "Come to think of it, my Da'd probably have done the same if Windy Ridge were closer to a Weyr. The stories all seem to be rather exaggerated after living here for a while, though." Reminded, she picks up her sketchbook, but doesn't actually open it just yet, instead settling it across her lap. "It's what got me into the Glasscraft, actually. Ma was keen to get me into Harper, but I can't hardly carry a tune and all that history and law is just so tedious." Laughing, "And another point well made, Relion."

Relion laughs briefly, "Trade? Hmmm. I don't know about that. I have this feeling that it's some part of the initiation of all this… to do things you might not necessarily be good at," Relion says, thoughtful, reflective, a glance to the eggs suggesting he's not sure he'll be good at 'that' part of it either, but, well. "I'll tell the cooks you thought so," Relion adds offhandedly regarding the bread. He steps back a pace and sinks into the chair on Pora's other side, stretching his back with a quiet brief grunt. "Well, you have to pick what's best for you, not what your parents want," Relion says, to Ashkeia, with a softer smile that suggests he had to, also.

Pora seems tempted to grab another treat from Relion's basket, but restrains herself and resumes her mending instead. Only a few pieces left, after all. "I know, right? From what I had heard, I was expecting the place to be… well, wilder." She leans to get a peek at Ashkeia's sketchbook, even if it is closed. "What do you draw? People? Animals?" A smile goes back to Relion. "Couldn'tve put it better myself."

Ashkeia tilts her head, looking thoughtful at Relion's mention of initiation. "Hmm? Oh, all sorts of things—" she begins to reply to Pora, when she's interrupted by the arrival of a brown firelizard that heads directly for her, chittering officiously. "Oh shard it," she sighs. "Looks like Janecin got free of his wife, after all… I'd best get along. I'll let you look at my sketchbook later if you'd like, Pora. Relion, again, good to meet you." Rising, she flaps her hand at the brown, "Yes, yes, I'm coming, leave off," and makes tracks before his squawking can disrupt the golds upon the Sands.

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