Peace and Quiet?

** IC DATE if applicable
Half Moon Bay Weyr - Rooftop Patio **
// This roof patio extends over the part of the living caverns that juts out into the bowl. A set of stairs has been carefully hewn from the rock, leading up to a flat expanse that is covered with normal dirt and topsoil. Trees and flowers grow in this section of the created gardens turn-round, all carefully trimmed and cultivated by the weyr staff. There are several benches scattered about, each secluded and private due to the surrounding foliage. A stone path winds through the expanse, leading to the other parts of the gardens.//

It's been a couple of days since Leeta went around 'petting' eggs…and walking out on them, as well. In that time, she's got her head back in a better space, and is currently eating a slightly late lunch in the quiet of the rooftop garden. On occasion, a bit of meatroll is tossed to three firelizards of green, brown, and blue, the triad taking some joy in catching the bits midair as they swirl around here and there. Their owner is sitting on one of those benches the place boasts, her person mostly hidden behind flowering foliage…except for booted feet and the occasional bob of her white-gold head as she leans forward a bit to toss 'bits to her flits.'

Petra has come up the staps carrying two large buckets and a small jug tucked under her arm. She is wearing a large sackcloth apron and a slightly sulky expression. Clearly believing herself alone, she sets down the two buckets and it becomes clear to the observer that one of them contains water, the other a selection of small plants with their roots carefully wrapped in wet rags. She eyes a large bare patch of earth, mutters something under her breath that is unclear but apparently less than polite, and gets down on her knees, not far from where Leeta sits behind the bushes.

The firelizards notice the interloper first, their blue whirling eyes moving to Petra, then returning to their mistress. Food trumps new person! *Their* attention, however, attracts Leeta's, and soon the woman's leaning over a little more, silently regarding the sullen female who looks to be planting stuff. For now, all the older white-knot does is eat, observe, and feed her little flock of flying stomachs.

Petra glances up towards the firelizards and raises an eyebrow. "Plants. Not food, plants. Got it?" She tilts the bucket towards the lizards, displaying its contents, and then starts to mark out regular holes in the bare earth. "They won't even be edible when full grown. Some sort of pretty flowers." The first plant is set carefully in a hole. "At least they'll be pretty flowers if they ever get the chance to grow, unlike the last lot." Having caught sight of Leeta, the final comment is divided equally between the lizards and their owner.

Yes, they get it. Nothing Petra has smells anything like food to a firelizard nose. Cheeple. And while Leeta is feeding her own maw for the moment, green eyes lift and meet grey-greens as the last of what Petra says is directed sort-of at her. A scant nod is given, but it seems the woman's mouth is full.

With twenty four carefully marked holes now filled with twenty four carefully deposited plants, Petra dutifully pours a jugful or water from the bucket at the base of each plant, stacks up the two empty buckets and jug, and then stands up, dusting soil off her fingers. "Mind if I join you?" She indicates the bench.

Around a new mouthful, Leeta simply shrugs, nods non-comitally at Petra's question of her, the woman looking at the bench beside her, then scooting a little farther towards one end.

Petra sits down with a martyred sigh and reaches around her plump waist to untie the apron strings. "Well, at least that's done. Until the next time some batch of weyrbrats decide to play some crazy game of Tag all over the flower borders, including the most recently planted. The head gardener used some curses even I've never heard before, and I used to think my uncle knew every swear word ever invented." Leeta's ongoing silence seems to puzzle her slightly, she glances at the older woman's candidate knot. "Everything all right?"

Oh boy, she got a talkative one. Leeta doesn't show her thought in the least, the athletic looking woman simply appearing to listen passively as Petra speaks…and continuing to toss food to her pets…and eat. After the imperative question comes, the blonde clears her throat a little, murmurs in rapid and hard-accented alto, "Yeah." Pause…paauuuuse. "I don't talk much."

Petra looks thoughtful for a moment, rather than sulky. She's never been known for her tact, but a few sevendays in a Candidate barracks has at least convinced her that saying the first thing that comes into her mouth isn't always a good idea. "Look, if you'd rather have some peace and quiet, I can just go back to the kitchens. I know the Candidate dorms aren't exactly peaceful. Or you can just tell me to shut up. Everyone else does."

Of course Leeta would rather have some peace and quiet…but she's got standing 'orders' from her mindhealer to work on socializing more…and better. And so, with an inward sigh, the blonde only shrugs, notes to Petra, "I've seen you in the dorm. You Weyrfolk?" Well…it's something.

Petra nods to that. "I'm Petra. Used to be a Stablehand here, came from Keroon before." She stretches her legs out in front of her. "Then that all changed when a big bronze dragon decided he liked how I smelled or something, and I ended up in the Candidate dorms instead. So I do laundry and plant flowers for a few weeks rather than shovelling herdbeast dung. Head stablehand doesn't seem to want me back in the corrals as a candidate for some reason. I think he reckons I'll know when they're deliberately playing stupid pranks to upset the Holdbred girls."

Dutifully, Leeta listens, though she does finish up her barely warm lunch…her firelizards finally coming to a landing on opposite shoulders and upon her lap, now that they're half-way full. Crazy cat lady, maybe? "Planting's a decent chore. Better 'n shoveling shit." Snert. Headquirk, smirk. "I'm Holdbred." Does Leeta seem upsettable, delicate?

Petra giggles. "Me and my big mouth. Didn't mean you. But apparently there's been a string of the messiest kills dragons have ever made in those corrals, and it's always just before a couple of the younger girls have corral duty. So when they get down there, there's staff already cleaning up the mess, and of course some big lump of herdbeast gut just has to get lobbed towards the gate when those two arrive. I think there's a betting pool going on for how many Candidates they can get to turn green and bolt for the privy before hatching day."

A small lift of one white-gold brow at Petra's words of lobbed gobbets of herdbeast soon is followed by Leeta smirking a little once again, her tray slowly loaded with empty dishes. "Adapt or die…" is her stance on the ill little holder girls. Shrug. "If they do that, they miss out." She doesn't shrug this time, given two of her pets are settled on her shoulders. "Everybody's got a weakness or three, a fear or two." The blue on her lap puffs a sigh, suddenly takes to the air on some unspoken command, and the woman rises with an unconsciously predatory gracefulness. "Time I get back to my own chores. Well met, Petra." Oh, she almost forgot…conveniently. "I'm Leeta."

Petra nods and gets to her own feet again with a sigh. "Well met, Leeta". She bundles up her discarded apron and tucks it into the top bucket. "I'd better get back as well, before they start asking if I'm waiting for all these plants to grow to flowering size before I ask for the next job." A smile, a nod, and she's bustling her way back towards the living caverns.

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