Awkward Conversations

Winter - Day 5 of Month 12 of Turn 2714

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Living Caverns

Here is the center of Weyr life, the living caverns. These two main rooms were man-shaped from smaller caves, and are joined by a carved arch with depictions of dragons in flight and dolphins leaping in swirling waves. One room has many round stone and wooden tables and a stone fire-pit instead of a hearth. Over the round-walled, gas fired pit is a large conical hood made of polished bronze, with reliefs of dragons with their riders flying over ships guided by dolphins. This hood and chimney keeps the room smoke-free. Through the archway is an enormous hall, with long tables and benches, some carved from the rock floor, many crafted of wood. This room is a combination dining and meeting hall, and can seat over 300 comfortably. Above both rooms, angled shafts lined with polished metal bring in sunlight during the day. Electric lights also burn, day and night.


It's just another day in the Weyr. The sun is shining, the air is fragrant with baked goods and Catwin is off duty. Though recently by the looks of it as she is still in her leathers, of which the jacket is quickly coming off to join the goggles and hat that were on her head as well. All of it is decidely damp and starting to drop a little as melted and refrozen water begins to drip off of it. Things are deposited on a rack just inside the doorway and she heads inwards to procure a bite to eat and something to drink.

R'sner is maybe not an unfamiliar face, though he is certainly new enough. But the recently transferred, and newly minted, Weyrlingmaster often spends his free time helping out Seamount with deliveries, at least until there are weyrlings to occupy his time. He has already found himself a table to claim; a plate of half-eaten lunch near enough to pick at, a glass of something indeterminate near enough to grab and sip should he so choose. He's not people watching so much as simply staring off into the distance, lost to his thoughts and disinclined to make polite conversation with table companions; all of which have now deserted him and left him to his own devices. Catwin's appearance, though perhaps noteworthy, does not garner much of a reaction from the sullen greenrider; he's simply too far gone in his head to notice.

The one thing about being part of Seamount is the number of people you end up seeing or even actually meeting whether you want to meet people or not, but you learn. And even if she's not the best at socialization, she does at least try sometimes. She takes her lightly filled plate of veggies and cooked grains and a glass of wine over towards R'sner and sits down. "Hi." short, direct and hopefuly not too offense. One never knows with the males around this place after all.

Short. Direct. Not at all offensive. And yet, R'sner appears startled all the same that someone is both greeting him, and settling in at his table. There's a brief, intent look of assessment, a quick pass of cobalt-blue eyes over Catwin's form and face, before recognition dawns. The barest hint of movement, something that might have resembled a nod, or a jut of his chin, and he offers a low, "Hey," in response. Her presence at least serves to break him out of whatever thoughts he'd been drifting in, and back to his lunch; plate drawn back to his person as he sets about ascertaining whether anything remains edible. "Fascath, right?" he murmurs, a glance out of the corner of his eye for her. "Your blue."

There's a nod as she takes a small bite, seemingly not surprised to be identified by her dragon instead of herself. Instead she smiles fondly at the thought of her dragon. "Yes, yes he is." she takes a small sip of her wine, "And yours would be Toith, your green."she notes quietly. Simply really. Conversation, no more, no less. Keeping it simple as she was told to try doing.

Quiet, save for the soft sounds of utensils on plate, and R'sner's attention turns to the task of seeking out the forgotten and missed morsels that are somehow, more delicious than the rest. A futile task, but it gives him something to do. "Mm," in quiet acknowledgement, an affirmation that is followed a few seconds later with an neutral enough, "Yes. Toith is mine." And here at least is a small flicker of a smile, a softening around the edges at mention of the green. And perhaps it is this brief softening, so to speak, that prompts a more formal introduction. Or at least the offering of his name, coupled with an actual attempt to meet her gaze and give some attention to his table companion. "R'sner."

So far, so good. No pain, no injuries. No blood. This is looking to be a quite pleasant conversation. "Catwin." she says as she returns the offering. Her own food is lightly eaten. Small bites, easy to chew and swallow. She's silent for a bit. Okay, introductions, check. Weather? Lame, but well. No. Work, that might work. "Seen you working with Seamount a few times, have you taken anything on up to Yokohama?" she asks finally.

A murmured, "Catwin," as R'sner works to connect name to face, and both to memory. "Right then," and blue eyes go back to his plate, a little poke-poke that is definitely more for show than actual eating; he hasn't taken a single bite since she sat down. "I have," he affirms, one shoulder lifted in a dismissive sort of shrug. "Not enough to get a feel for the place but…" and a funny expression crosses his face, and he sorta glances up and around before he decides, "Kind of weird. Creepy. Not a fan." Of the Yokohama. Whatever else he may have said, it's halted by the characteristic look of dragon-speaking, a grimace following on the heels of a low and longsuffering sounding exhale. "If you'll… excuse me. Toith's…" but there's really no explaining his dragon, and her propensity for tackling things. "Er. Yeah." There's an awkward sort of pause after he rises, and then a hasty departure for the bowl.


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