In the tunnel we meet...

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 02:48:00 GMT

Who: Calleigh and Geneve
When: 8:26pm on day 20, month 3, turn 2.
Where: Inner Caverns
Weather: Light Rain
What: Calleigh seeks Geneve for a little advice.

Inner Caverns(#150RJ)                            Early Spring. Rain. 40F / 4C.

     A warren of caverns and tunnels run through the interior of Benden Weyr. Most are in good repair and boast a fresh coat of either white wash or an interesting shade of mauve paint as do many of the doors along the corridor. Those that are no longer serviceable are blocked off by wooden rails. Regardless of the time of day or season, these caverns are perpetually a bit chilly though well-tended glow baskets provide adequate illumination at all times.
     The main tunnel here leads up to the living cavern. Branches off of this go in various directions: several lead to the various workrooms used by crafters and weyrfolk; a narrow tunnel winds up in the nighthearth; a long, open corridor passes several rooms and offices before terminating at the dormitory; and so on. Another long tunnel leads to the entrance cavern far to the south, and from there to the road out of the Weyr.

-- Players --
Calleigh.......Painfully thin, dark hair and eyes, faded freckles on her face. Late teens, perhaps?
Geneve.........Short, round & focused, but cute, with dark hair and grey eyes.

It's obvious that Calleigh's been outside recently, from the few droplets that still cling to her flat hair, and the dampness in her clothing (that doesn't yet smell, thankfully). She seems to be loitering, leant up against a boarded off doorframe in the main tunnel; she's picking at her half-chewed fingernails.

Geneve emerges from one of the passageways - one that leads from the laundries - carrying a small sack under one arm, and strides purposefully across the caverns. Though, of course, 'purposeful' is not unusual for the short, round woman. On her way past, her gaze catches upon Calleigh, and she comes to a halt, one hand sliding round to rest upon her hip. "Haven't we given you enough to do, weyrling?" she asks, voice smooth.

Perfect! Calleigh jumps a little at the sounds of Geneve's voice, but the look on her face when she registers it's owner's identity is more relief than guilt. "Ah! Miss Geneve. Weyrlingmaster!" A quick salute with her hand. "Someone in the kitchens told me you'd come down here, I was, ah, waiting to bump into you." Grin. "Do you have a moment?" Her ragged nails scratch down the fabric of her shirt as she attempts dust them off, catching on a thread. Calleigh's mouth twitches.

Geneve's expression softens slightly. It's well known that she does have a soft spot for the female weyrlings. Nodding, her hand slides back down to her side, and she says, "Of course, Calleigh. What do you need?" The bag of laundry under her other arm is shifted, then dropped to the floor at her feet, giving her use of both arms again.

"A bath, some dry clothes, about three beasts worth of roast sandwiches with extra gravy... ah," Calleigh pauses for an awkward chuckle, before continuing. "Actually, it's about Kitsth, and L'ten, and Sevuuth."

The corners of Geneve's mouth twitch, though she doesn't allow herself a full smile in response to the younger girl. "L'ten, again? What is it, Calleigh? Spit it out."

"Well," the greenrider begins, shifting her weight off the doorframe. "Word on the wing is that he and Sevuuth are having some sort of bonding... ah, thing, you know. Like, not... ah, I can't think of the word." Nose wrinkles in frustration. "Uh, anyway. I, um, well - I still can't really tell what's Kitsth and what's me sometimes, you know? Like the sandwiches thing. I don't even like gravy!" She splays her hands out sideways, giving a puzzled sort of shrug.

Geneve remarks, in a slow, even tone, "I'd be surprised if Kitsth liked gravy, either, though I take your point." The brownrider flexes her shoulders, stretching them out with her gaze sliding loosely about the caverns. "To be honest, Calleigh," she continues, turning her attention back to the weyrling, "I know very little about this supposed training that L'ten and Sevuuth are having. But I will ask for you."

"It's more the, um, texture of gravy that I'm craving, not the taste. If that makes sense?" Slowly, Calleigh breathes a sigh of relief. "Would you really? Because, um, you know. I would ask L'ten, but like, um... yeah." A hand lifts to turn lazy circles in the air. "You know how the boys are about, um, girls. That aren't goldriders." She rolls her eyes. "I just don't want, you know. To upset anyone anymore than they already are, about us. Or give them reason to be. Or whatevs... er. Whatever."

Geneve's expression indicates some, if not actual confusion, then perhaps surprise at this explanation, though she simply nods her head in response. "Understood," she comments, dryly, of L'ten. "That's very thoughtful of you. Aside from - " Pause " - the gravy issue, and related, how are you doing, Calleigh? Coping?"

Calleigh smiles. "Oh, you know. Ok. I think better than the other girls - they seem to get bothered alot by what people are saying, when it's like, you can't stop them from thinking or saying that. I don't know..." She bites her lip for a brief moment, eyes flittering about before coming to rest back on Geneve. "I just wish... I could understand this whole what's Kitsth, what's me thing. All the pranks and stuff make it a bit hard to concentrate sometimes, you know? Is that normal, all the dirty stuff? Or is it just because the dragons picked odd pairs, this clutch?"

Geneve tilts her head to the side when she listens, twining a stray curl around her finger. "I don't know about odd pairs," she says, when she finally opens her mouth to respond, "I think it just happens to be a matter of chance. You have a bully for a clutchmate - and other clutches have not. I know what you mean, though, and we are trying to put a stop to it all. Teenage boys can be..." Her lips part into a wry smile. "Difficult. But I'm relieved to hear that you're not letting it all bother you too much. You're legitimate riders. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Calleigh practically beams at the compliment, her smile widening into a big toothy grin. "Aw, shucks." Another shrug, this time just the one shoulder, shy. "I don't really have time to let it bother me, too busy trying to stave off giant snack-fests or marathon naps, or funny little thought things, and the chores! I think Wendra's copping a bit though - I just don't know what to say to her? How can you doubt, you know... being picked. I mean, sure, greens don't normally pick girls, but... I don't know. I just hope it all comes good one day." By the end of this train of thought, Calleigh's shaking her head.

"Greens /do/ pick girls. The sooner we all start accepting this as normal, the better," corrects Geneve, her tone firm, if not unfriendly. "There's always some that manage better than others, I've found. Most of them manage in the end. Because we have to. Because there's no going back. A few more turns, and there will be people Impressing who've never known a time when girls /didn't/ ride green." She seems pleased with this concept, adding, "But just wait. We're going to show everyone."

Calleigh accepts the correction with a duck of her head and a sheepish, "Yes'm." Blush is creeping into her cheeks, and her hair is starting to fluff up a little as it slowly dries off. "I sure hope so." Lost for words (for a change!) the greenrider looks to her fingernails again for inspiration. "Oh! I think Kitsth is awake again, I really must run. Uh, thanks so much for talking to me about this... and, uh, you know. Offering to find out about L'ten's stuff, and, uh... stuff. I'm coming, I'm coming!" This last, presumably to her pair.

Geneve gives the weyrling a firm, sharp nod, though a smile creeps about the corners of her lips. "Stay well, Calleigh. No doubt I'll see you later." This said, she reaches down to pick up her laundry again, soon to head off in a similar direction.

Calleigh jogs off in the direction of the barracks, muttering breathlessly about gravy, among other things.