0001-03-03 - An Ordinary Day

Having worked in the kitchens, Lo has the advantage of knowing people who know people who can get her a much needed thirst quencher and snack even if it's nowhere near a traditional meal time. From the crumbs on the table, she's already made it through at least one sweet bun, and working on a second, or maybe that's a third? There may be a little too many crumbs, unless she's a very messy eater, for the mess to be the product of just one snuck snack. There's a dry gleam to the sweat that mats her bangs to her forehead; she's been here for a little while already.

The sweat on Lanelle isn't dry, but it is trying to as she makes her way into the living caverns from what must have been some sort of exercise, pale skin flushed and her hair just damp enough to sort of stay back when she pushes her hand through it, out of her face. "You don't even look like you're enjoying yourself," she muses as she passes behind the weyrling. It's out loud, so it must have been meant to be heard, but there's some sense that she's commenting on the scene more than trying to start a conversation. Never mind that she does pause to study the other young woman instead of going wherever she'd been going.

Comically mid-bite, Lo looks up from under a fringe of darker blonde lashes, her tongue coming out quick to sweep up a jammy crumb into her mouth as she pulls the sweet bun away from her face. Grinning toothily, and somewhat sheepishly, the weyrling waves the bun, with the hand attached, at the Fortian transfer. She knows who this is. "Hullo," is her dulcet voice, followed by a lower, failing entirely in her attempted goal of sneaky, "You won't tell anyone you saw me here, ma'am, right?"

Lanelle glances around the cavern in their immediate vicinity, then looks back at Lo with one slightly lifted brow. "Are," she takes a breath, considering perhaps if she actually wants to engage. Then, "Are you not supposed to be here?" She may be new, but she knows perfectly well what Lo is, even if not necessarily who she is as a person. "There are better places to hide if you're trying to avoid being found."

"I mean," Lo starts and then stops, her voice deeper than the cherubic youth of her seeming age might appear. She clears her throat and swipes a negligent hand over her mouth, where she's sure there must be crumbs. There isn't. The gesture is completely idle and time buying and it is quite transparent in her expressive eyes: should she try to lie or should she just fess up? Her eyes roll upwards, and then down again, lashes fluttering in a plea, "I think I'm supposed to be slinging muck outside. But I got a little faint and came in to eat something, but...," her voice trails and her gaze flicks to the bowl and back to Lanelle. "That may have been a few hours ago..." Voice small. "Maybe."

Just a moment later, Lo ventures a warmer, hopeful, smile, and gestures to the plate with a few cinnamon sweet rolls on it, "Want one?"

An ordinary day in the living caverns sees Ilyis making the rounds, balancing a tray precariously on her hand as she first sits with her wingmates before migrating toward another wing’s table; a social butterfly fluttering from first this to that, making jokes and slapping shoulders in a way not un-masculine. She is in this business of swaggering from one table to the next when she espies the two young goldriders, her dark eyes observing for a few seconds before she strides over. “Are we sharing?” she asks, hearing the tail end of the weyrling’s offer. Her tanned face breaks into a smile, part pitying for the weyrling, as she considers the sweet rolls. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” she begins, slipping into a nearby seat, “Ilyis, green Karasvath’s.” Ideally, they would introduce themselves next – the newest transfer gold and the newly Impressed.

Faranth help this Weyr, Lanelle is not going to be a good influence on her peer. "Oh. Well. I can't really blame you for wanting to avoid that." She's only just out of weyrlinghood herself, and can no doubt remember those particular joys all too clearly. "I won't tell anyone. But I'm not going to take the fall for you if you get in trouble, either." Just so they're on the same page. Lanelle glances at the rolls, chewing on her bottom lip, but before she can make a decision, blue eyes are drawn toward the greenrider. Well, she can't abandon Lo now, so she settles nearby, perched on the edge of her seat. "Are we sharing?" she asks the weyrling as she reaches for her own roll. Then to Ilyis, matching her introduction, "Lanelle, gold Sreyoth's."

“Sure! These are Katya’s best so fa-,” Caught unawares by the intrusion until the owner of the newest voice is just upon them, Lo stops talking abruptly and blinks upwards, and then in a few more times in fluttery succession. She turns just a touch wary, as the woman identifies herself as a rider. Lo mumbles, “Lo,” before cramming the remnants of the bun she was working on before to stop any more words from tumbling out. *Eoventh is the one who reaches out and inserts her own introduction confidently, << Eoventh. But you know that. >>

“Katya’s best, huh?” Amusement crinkles the corners of Ilyis’ dark eyes, and she gladly plucks one of the sweet rolls for her own taste-testing. “Lanelle and Lo, well met. Both of you.” The greenrider gives them a good-natured smile, before taking a slow bite out of the sweet roll that has had such high praise. “The best, you think?” She winks at the weyrling, then licks sticky icing off her thumb, seemingly oblivious to the younger girl’s wariness. “Not half bad,” is her verdict, unceremoniously. To the little gold, when she reaches out, there is a vast emptiness but a feeling of recognition. <<Yes. >> Karasvath knows.

Lanelle picks pieces off of her sweet roll to nibble at rather than biting from the whole thing, shifted slightly sideways to lean one elbow against the table top. "They're are good," she offers. "But you're going to make yourself sick if you plan on eating them all yourself." Especially if she has to go back to work shortly, might be the implication, but she doesn't say that out loud in case Lo doesn't want Ilyis in on the minor delinquency. "Well met," she adds to the greenrider with a possibly suspicious flicker of a smile.

"Oh, if I do get a tummy ache, I mean, I could just spend the night in the infirmary," the young woman remarks, thoughtful about this progression of thought, "Might be quieter than the barracks, but then Eoventh would worry." Something in her tone indicates that would probably be the worst possible outcome, as thoughtful glides into pensive and that writing it all off tone of voice. Then the realization she's said her dragon's name causes a silent, embarrassed, beat to pass and a quick look to Ilyis. It would be ridiculous for someone not to know, and yet, the hope that someone doesn't know who she is, writes itself all over Lo's broad face. Change the subject! That always works. Always! False chirrupy, "How are you settling at Igen? It's hot during the day, isn't it? Is it different than Fort? I've never left the Weyr."

Is Ilyis part of the weyrlings-must-weyrling brigade? Is she anyone beyond a busy worker bee? Hardly. It might be a coincidence, or it might simply be a purposeful oblivious, but whatever the reason, the greenrider does not react to the what may have been outed. She continues picking at her sweet roll, an ear to their conversation, until there is nothing left of the roll except crumbs and smears of icing on her fingers. “Mm, I do hope you’re settling well. Both of you,” Ilyis says, pointedly and with another wink, and as easily as she interjected, she slips out of her chair and waves a sticky-fingered hand at the two teenagers. Off, to bother another table, and see about cleaning off her hands.

The Fortian transplant considers what Lo says, nodding along as she finishes off at least part of her sweet roll before setting it down on the table and thoughtfully licking icing off of her fingertips. A wave is spared Ilyis when she decides to move along from such mature and productive company. Then Lanelle is refocusing on the weyrling. "I'd offer for you to come stay with us," she says in that 'who would even stop us' sort of tone, "But I don't think Sreyoth would be very happy with Eoventh mucking up her weyr." Beat. "Or if she could get to it." Maybe that should have been the first thought, Lan. "Fort's a bit chilly this time of year. I like the weather so far. I hope we get to stay awhile."

When Ilyis moves off, Lo's face wrinkles in a little unmasked misery coupled with absolute fascination at the easygoing way the dragonrider moves among crowds. "Did you find it really really strange that people just knew who you were after you Impressed?" The tangent causes the young woman to lose focus from making inroads on her plate of sweets. "Sorry, I don't think I meant to say that aloud. Forget I said anything, please? It must be hard to be far from home. Right? Even if you want to stay here. I'm worried they're going to send me away." As she shrugs, the rest of her body follows that upward motion to stand, one hand gripping onto the plate. "The not knowing is quite unsettling, but Eoventh says we should always make the best of any situation." A small, quirky little smile plays about her mouth, her eyes distant in the way of many a new rider. "I'm afraid she's covered for me long enough and I guess I should go back to doing my job."

"It takes some getting used to," says Lanelle as though she's been reminded of something she'd since forgotten. "It gets easier, though. I promise." Whether that's about people knowing her name, or being in a new home, or both, is left for Lo to decide. The weyrwoman returns, or mirrors more like, the weyrling's smile. "She sounds like a smart one," as the other dismisses herself, "Good luck with your duties, Lo."

"Does it?" Lo looks uncertain about that quirk of her mouth, but hope lights in her eyes. "I'm not really used to being a somebody," is her last parting thought, before she walks away, only turning abruptly to make some semblance of a salute to the more senior rider. Grinning sheepishly, she notes, "Please don't report me, please," and turns back around to put her plate away and get back to the task of work. Sometime soon. Maybe not all that quickly given how much slower her steps get after dropping the plate off.