Random Log: Pareol is Searched

Myra climbs down from Ailath's back, still shivering with the cold from between, frowning at the courtyard as she tries to remember what she was told, where she was told to go, who she was told to see. Ailath, for her part, is fairly disinterested, as dragons tend to be. The stable end is more interesting to the green than the rest of the courtyard, though Myra is focusing her attentions on the latter, with a frown.

Wafting in the breeze of any wind should be the scent of flowers or the seasons trailing through the gardens nearby but not here in the space of the Tanner hall where the scent of slurries and other means of preparing leather reign. A figure makes their way across the courtyard with buckets well in hand as well as his own black boots rising high upon his knees to protect his feet from the future contents of those buckets with their sloshing fluid inside. "Ye be lookin a tad bit lost there, dun worry, those doors scared me when I first came 'ere, too." The young man raises an arm to wipe sweat from his brow, pushing back the bright red strands of his bowl cut high on his face.

Myra looks relieved to be spoken to, it's not easy to shake those turns of hold breeding and 'speak only when spoken to' manners, even now. "Ah, just a bit. I'm after strap leather, we've weyrlings in need of it," she says, with a brief nod, getting right into business, "If you could, ah, point me at the right per… er…" she leans forward, brow furrowing slightly at the complete and belated distraction, "Ah, what's in the buckets?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

"Aye, yer here in the right place if yer lookin fer strap leather. The 'prenticemaster just opened 'imself up for orders so now's a good time as any." As for the contents of the buckets, they're placed upon the floor a step towards the greenrider so she may fancy their contents with as much glee as the young man does. Sloshing about in the water are small textured orbs of a pale gray and cream hue, cramped and crowded as they jiggle about with the remaining movement of the fluid until it all comes to a stop. Without a moment's hesitation a sleeve is rolled up and a hand dips inside while the apprentice smiles with glee. "These are a tanners best tool or so me 'prenticemaster says. These are the brains of the animals the hunters and butchers send us so we can use 'em to tan the hides of animals. Smell a little strong at first but not so bad when ye soak 'em in water fer abit. Did you know that an animal has enough brains in it's head to soak it's own hide?" All said with winning enthusiasm of course.

Myra eyes the buckets slowly, and frowns. Huh, she's not the squeamish type, then? "How … interesting." She does, however, keep her distance, stepping rather hastily back as the tanner steps towards her. Ailath looks rather more interested, snaking her head over Myra's shoulder, but the green's rider shakes her head. "Barely a mouthful, Ailath, go back to watching the stables." she says, with a kind of bored tone. Ailath is perhaps a compulsive stable watcher? How odd. "You certainly seem … enthusiastic." she notes, with a weak smile. "Apprenticemaster, you say? Hmm, I see." she nods slowly, glancing to Ailath curiously. The green is still hanging around, surely the buckets of brains can't be all that interesting? "Could I get you to take him a message for me?"

"Sure are, makes ye wonder what yer dragons been wearing there and how it was prepared a little more now dunnit?" He laughs, smoothing back his hair one more time but it seems the fluid from inside the buckets might've gotten on his hands causing the hair on his brow to stay slicked back in a wet and oily fashion. "Aye, sure. He is due to come back to check his messages before he heads back out again. Been going back and forth between here an Ista, his mate had some complications and it's been said he's lost his son but who knows?" The apprentice shrugs and takes up his buckets moving them back just a wee bit. "If he asks and he will case he needs followups to be sure he be getting the right person, I be Pareol." He holds out a hand to her in offering for a nice little friendly shake.

Myra watches Pareol slick his hair back with his wet hand - whether intentionally or not - and seems hesitant to shake hands with the tanner, for a moment. She stalls for time by introducing herself, "Ah, I'm Myra, one of Xanadu's Weyrlingmasters." she notes, with a half smile. It's new for her to introduce herself in this manner, new indeed. She does take Pareol's offered hand then, shaking it politely, if a little briefly. "And this is Ailath." she adds, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, though by now Ailath has inched forward, and her head is actually a little further forward than Myra, even if her body still is behind. "Right, a message… Could you tell him that, ah, Xanadu requires strap leather for weyrlings, as there's a clutch on the sands, and," Myra breaks off, looking up at Ailath's head, odd expressions crossing her face as she silently converses with her dragon.

"Aye, well met and I'll be sure to pass the message along. These brains gotta to go 'em as well so they'll be sitting in his office or atleast that's what I've been instructed to do so he doesn't ferget 'em this time." Pareol chuckles a bit, his wide grin dominating his face before he reaches up to scratch at the corners of his pale blue eyes. "Ailath, eh? She's a beaut that she is." The apprentice tilts his head from side to side as he admires the hide of the green before him, not in the sense of tanning but for the hues that glisten off of her skin which are more attractive than the contents of his buckets at the moment.

Myra chuckles fondly, and nods, "That she is, indeed. Don't let her looks fool you though, she's not half the delicate lady she looks." she notes, with a slightly coarser laugh. Slightly. Ailath bows her head so her chin is nearly touching the ground, showing off the rich sweep of leafy green racing up her nose quite clearly, the element of her otherwise pale colouring that perhaps stands out the most. "Ah, right, the message…" Myra continues as if there /isn't/ a great big dragon head just about between her and Pareol. "Strap leather for weyrlings, faster the better as we've a couple now, in fact." she notes, frowning absently. "And, oh, right!" she exclaims, as if remembering something long since forgotten, like the name of that friend she was talking about a week ago. "Ah, well, this is … how shall I put this? It's always good to have weyrlings with useful skills, always, not that there're any guarantees of course, because there /never/ are, but, my point is," she takes a deep breath, then says the rest very very quickly, "Ailath thinks you'd make a good candidate, how about it?" and then, she digs in her pocket for something.

Pareol slowly nods, his lips pressed into an expressionless fine line as he takes in the information of the message being relayed. Memory is one of the things that being in the presense of floating brains improves! There should be a bucket of brains floating about in every hold and weyr for that matter, think of the intelligence levels that might climb! Or fester into a barely recognizable goop but it's all relative, proven by the look of pure and utter confusion takes hold of the apprentices features now. "Me?" Pareol asks in utter disbelief. "Ye mean I get ta stand out there in the sands with the others and watch the eggs with the others?" He's only heard of such things from the riders that had once apprenticed or even gone as far as Journeymen before returning with a fine beast or tales of being before them at the least. "Who wouldn't want tales of their own?" he whispers before finally laughing and nodding with a grin, "Aye! I'd be honored if you'd have me."

Myra nods rapidly, grinning widely as her fingers close around something, and out comes the white knot, which is held out to Pareol. "Good luck! Ailath, she, she's never searched anyone before." she notes, with a glance to the green, who, /now/, is acting totally disinterested in Pareol and instead watching the stables. Myra shakes her head in amusement, then turns more seriously to the tanner, or candidate? "Ah, before I take you to the barracks at Xanadu, is there anyone you need to tell, anything you need to get, or do?" she nods to the buckets, with the hint of a smile, then a little frown. "Er, have you ever been between before?"

Pareol takes in a deep breath and holds it before nodding quickly towars the woman and accepting the white knot with a complete look of adoration. "Aye, I need to deliver these buckets and your request, grab me belongings which isn't much and then report to the Masters. Shouldn't take me long at all since they're in the same hall at this hour." With that he bows his head and turns to leave while placing the knot in his pocket so it doesn't get soiled, white is a rough color to get any stains out of only he stops when he realizes he's forgetting something mildly important. With a quick turn he grabs the buckets and offers the greenrider a sheepish smile before turning once more to stride into the hall as fast as possible without spilling too much… Only the poor lad did spill a little and lost a brain which rolls towards Myra and left forgotten.

Myra grins at Pareol's reaction, glancing over at Ailath and shooting a "We should do this more often." at the green, as the new candidate rushes off, then back, then off again with the buckets. She, for lack of anything better to do, joins Ailath in watching the stables, chatting idly with the green. "No, we're not getting a runner, honestly, what would you even do with it?" After a couple of moments of this chatter, she turns back around, and frowns. The … brain. It's there. It's … wet. What to do, what to do? Where is that Pareol, anyway?

Not too much later the apprentice returns, cleaned up and his hair back down into it's simple bowlcut with a small pack upon his shoulders. Those freshly cleaned boots nearly miss the missed brain upon the floor and it's lightly kicked across the courtyard without a moment's glance. "Aye, the message has been received by the 'prenticemaster and he'll begin immediately. Said to be expectin his blue flit with his detailed requests for what he needs as far as quality and the like. Is there anything else ye think I should do? They send their best greetings to Xanadu with me." Wingbeats from landings send the brains to wiggle to and fro on the courtyards grounds before rolling off into a crowd of people where it's kicked once more only to be ultimately carted off by a firelizard before popping off into between. Where that morsel ends up is anyones guess.

Myra looks up as Pareol returns, and glances to the brain one final time, just in time to see it begin its great journey. She just … blinks at the spot the firelizard had just been, and shakes her head. "Probably wind up in someone's klah." she comments idly, not that she'd know anything about that, it was just the first thought to pop into her head. "I, ah, no, I think that's it. I'll give you a hand up onto Ailath's back, and then we'll be off." she says to the apprentice finally, cheerfully avoiding mentioning the inevitable trip between. And then she's climbing up into Ailath's reinforced straps with, well, her climb could use a little work, admittedly, but it does the job.

Finally at the barracks…

Myra leads Pareol into the barracks, stretching her arms wide upon entering the room, and turning to grin at the new candidate. "This'll be your home until the eggs hatch, pick a cot, any cot. Rules are as follows: No drunkenness, no sex." The latter, is that a blush on the greenrider's face? A very faint one, if at all. "You are of course expected to do your chores, and be properly respectful. Candidacy is a wonderful experience, however." she grins, and nods at the chore board, "You'll have today free, first day always is, but there'll be chores later on, in the morning usually, with time free in the afternoons for your craft."

"Aye, both of which I know nothin bout so it shouldn't be a problem!" Isn't that something a young man of his age shouldn't be bragging about? No worries, Pareol offers one wide grin none the less and continues to listen to the directions pertaining to his new temporary home. "It all sounds reasonable and managable Rider Myra, ye shouldn't be gettin any problems from me and I'll do me best to stay out of trouble. Here's to hopin trouble don't come findin me." There's a sigh of relief with the words of his craft still being accessable through it all in the day and chores in the morning is no different than what he was already enduring in the crafthall. Though the place is different, the day to day is the same but surely in Xanadu there's something to bring out a charm one has yet to see.

Myra chuckles, and shakes her head, "You'd be surprised." she says, with a shake of her head, and a glance for the exit. "Uh, so, need any help setting up in here?" she asks, cheerfully. It's almost like she's avoiding going out in public for some reason? How odd. "I'm always happy to help, yes. Especially Ailath's first potential future weyrling!" Well, that's a mouthful…

"Well, mayhap ye can tell me a bit about the place so I don't get m'self into trouble with any known residents?" You know, the kind that you look at them wrong and they're all over you or the ones that like to take advantage of new folk. "I'm sure I'll find out soon enough with me time here in Xanadu, just thought I'd be better prepared." Pareol chuckles nervously as he settles his pack down on an empty cot off to the side and peers back over to her.

Myra grins, and shakes her head, "Ah, Xanadu's a fine place, you'll love it here, weather's been a bit … wet, of late, but it seems to be back to normal now. You may have to deal with flood damage here and there, but I /think/ it's mostly cleared up now." she muses, tilting her head slightly, "Really, the best way to see Xanadu is to, well, /see/ Xanadu," and she nods to the exit, albeit reluctant to actually use it herself. "Ah, Ailath informs me that, well, I should go." she says, with a shrug. Rider's work is never done, and all. She hesitates, glancing back to Paneol briefly, then shakes her head, apparently reconsidering what she was about to say. "Good luck, out there." she gestures in the general direction of the sands, then ducks out.

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