[7.2.2707] Today's Tom Sawyer

[syn]

((dis be open, yo. You can play a rider passing through preparing for Search, or an NPC crafter/holder.))


Rush's feet hurt. She had slipped and fell recently, and the resulting cuts and burns were extremely painful. As she served drinks and food in the public house, she walked with care and often winced as she went back to the kitchens for more numbweed. Yet the false smile never wavered as her thick accent cheered, "Welcome to th' South Sands Public 'Ouse! You look right tired, now don't ya? Sit down and I'll bring you an ale--first one's on the 'ouse, unless y'don' order another!" Perfectly cheery, perfectly fake.

As she slipped into the back room and cleaned the cuts on her feet, she glanced at one of the other serving girls. "You think I need stitches, Detti?"

Detti, who was not much better off than Rushera financially, looked over at the cuts and winced. "Those look awful, Shera. You seen a 'Ealer yet 'bout those wounds?"

"Nah." Rush's brows knitted. "But per'aps I should, just t'be safe, y'know?" She put her shoes back on, washed her hands in the sink, and went out to continue her work. The fake smile was still on, even though her feet felt like what she imagined Threadscores to feel like.

[fellis]

Velain had finished a long day in the Hall, getting dyes together for the Masters and Journeymen. Being an apprentice was no fun. He had to do all the grunt work, and he hardly had any time to work on his own ideas. At least he would walk the Tables soon. Finally, he was free to go. Velain decided to visit the pub for a drink. Velain didn't actually like the place that much, but it was the principal of the thing. Now that his parents said he was old enough to go, he couldn't not go.

He walked in and took a seat at the bar. When a young woman walked out from the kitchen, he flagged her down. "A glass of the house ale, please," he said, setting a half-mark on the counter.

[syn]

The tall waitress slowed her gait, as was trained. She smiled and leaned against the table as she tied her memory knot quickly. "Want any food with that, sweet'eart?" She was the kind to pour on the pet names, even though she never meant anything by them. Then she ducked beneath the bar, pouring ale into a tankard and then placing it on the bar with a trained barmaid smile.

"You look as if you've had some time t'day," she said, striking up conversation partially out of boredom and partially for business. Happy customers tipped better, and there was no tip-splitting here. "Hard day at work, huh?"

[fellis]

It was a sign of Velain's naivete that even the barmaid's use of a pet name made him blush. He took the tankard and helped himself to a long gulp. He chuckled when she asked about his hard day. "Sure was," he answered, wiggling his dye-stained fingers at her. "I was making colors for the Journeymen all day, with hardly a thank you in return." He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Hopefully none of them are here, or they might think up another order," he said, looking around. None of them were to be seen, fortunately.

[syn]

Ah, so she had made someone nervous, hadn't she? He must be a first-timer. Most of the maidens in here had a tendency to use pet-names, even when annoyed. Rush picked it up like the rest, and worked with the grace she had learned. Setting her feet gingerly on the floor and glancing about to make sure that her shift was covered, Rushera leaned against the bar and glanced at those drinking away. Then back to Velian. She raised a brow at his stained hands.

"Those sure ain't normal 'uman 'ands," she chuckled. "I was wond'rin' 'ow you got your 'ands to look like a gather gown. So, Glass crafter, huh? Me da' was a glass crafter. M'brother, too. He says apprentice work is long and thankless. Kinda like when th'men get too drunk'n'rowdy and they forget to tip and get all mean. I'm one o' the few that stays out when that happens." A faint scar on her cheek--most likely from a broken mug--showed that she had broken up several fights in the bar.

"Name's Shera," she said. "You don't look like you're the kind who comes here often. Am I right?"

[Kit]

Tesni walked into the pub, pushing her sand specked flying goggles onto her forehead. This was a Hold where the full flying gear was required, just to protect from the blowing sand. She didn't normally visit pubs during Search, but the dry air had made her thirsty. Besides all that, the people out here in the desert were suspicious of outsiders and so she thought she'd test the waters, so to speak. She sat down at the bar and looked around. There were a few in here around the right age, which was all to the good. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult of a Search as she had feared.

[fellis]

Velain chuckled when Shera compared his hands to a Gather dress. "That's funny, because that's probably where half the dye I make goes, to cloth for dresses. I'm a Weaver apprentice, not a Glass apprentice," he corrected her. He shook his head slightly when she talked about the rowdy men that came to the pub. Velain glanced at the scar on her cheek, which was a reflection of the hard time she spoke of. It was really a shame how uncivilized people got when they drank.

"I'm Velain," he said when she introduced herself. He gave a little pout when she guessed that he didn't come here often. "Am I that obvious?" The question was half sarcastic, since he knew that he looked more "delicate" than the others who frequented this place. "No, it's not my favorite spot. Too noisy and dirty--no offense meant. If it wasn't for the great ale, I might not come here at all," he admitted.

He glanced up as a woman walked in and took a seat at the bar. It wasn't often that women came here unaccompanied. Then he saw her flying goggles and realized that she was a dragonrider. Velain longed to talk to her, but didn't know if it would be polite. "Here's another who probably doesn't come here often," he said to Shera, tilting his chin at the rider woman.

[syn]

((Accent is now implied because i'm sick of typing it out.))

Ah, so she had gotten it wrong. "Glass craft, weaver craft... I can hardly tell the difference." But she did chuckle at his comment, and then turned her gaze to make sure things were fine. Detti stood at the kitchen entrance giggling, probably spreading gossip as per the usual. The other tenders kept on top of their orders, and Rushera wasn't needed anywhere else. Good.

"Trust me, I work here. And not because I like it." She gestured at the wooden stools, each one looking as if they would fall apart at any given moment. There were stains of blood and vomit on the floor that would not come out even with hours off scrubbing and soaking. "One day I'll be out of this mess. And I'll never look back. Ever."

And then the dragon rider came into the pub. Speak of the devil and he appears. Rushera glanced at the knots, then at the goggles. Rider. Dressed like it, looked like it, smelled like it. "Tips like one, too, I'll bet," she muttered. Then she glanced at Velain. "I'mma go take care of her, you hang tight. If you need anything, holler, mmkay?" Then she stood and moved over to the rider.

"Welcome to the South Sands Public House," she said. "I'm Shera, and I'm your tender today. What'cha need?"

[Kit]

The girl that approached had a confident swagger and a heavy desert accent. Tesni eyed her speculatively. She looked the right age. Perhaps she'd like to meet Kaitoth later... But first things first. She smiled affably at the girl. "What do you have that's cold and not too strong? I wouldn't want to get drunk on the job."

No indeed. In a place like this, that wasn't as friendly to Searchriders as it ought, she needed her wits about her. Just then, Itzal, the elder of her two firelizards appeared. She scritched him under the chin as he reported that he'd left Indra asleep in the weyr. That was all to the good as far as Tesni was concerned. She loved her little gray, but she was a troublemaker. It was best she stayed at him.

[syn]

Cold. Ah, if only Rushera could offer a cold drink. But she did pour one of the milder drinks, a diluted mead that was more for taste than strength. "We ain't got much to offer in the ways of cold, sorry." And then she had to force herself from gaping at the pretty fire-lizard that appeared out of nowhere.

Between, she told herself. Not nowhere. Then she eyed the rider for a while longer. Finally, she couldn't stand waiting. "Are you here on Search? Or have the tithes not been good?" She hoped she didn't sound to eager, but... she didn't want to stay here forever.

[fellis]

Velain smiled a little when Shera spoke of escaping the public house. He was prettymuch content with his life, but he could sympathize with wanting something greater. He often dreamed of rising above his station as an apprentice, aspiring to something more important.

He nodded and watched as she went to tend to the rider. Velain pretended to be absorbed in drinking his ale, but he was really eavesdropping on their conversation. He waited with bated breath for the rider's answer to Shera's question, hoping that she was here on Search.

[Kit]

Tesni nodded, "I suppose I should've expected that. I don't know what I was thinking asking for a *cold* drink." There were only a few Holds that got even close to cold in the winter, and none of them were like the tales of the fabled north..where ice fell out of the sky. She'd never even *seen* ice. Some of the Holders were all for sending dragonriders to old High Reaches, to get ice, and to look for other lost things in the Holds. Tesni wondered if that would ever happen, it sounded ridiculously dangerous to her.

In any case the mead was at least cool, and sweet, but not too sweet, and not very strong either. It was rather good actually. She stifled a smile at the covetous look in the girl's eyes as Itzal had appeared. Well, that was a good sign, and even better was the almost hungry way she looked when she asked about Search. "As it just so happens, I am on Search. My blue, Kiatoth, is just outside. He is one of the best Searchdragons the weyr has. I just thought I'd come in here and hear the gossip. You wouldn't know anyone willing to be tested by Kaitoth, to come to the weyr, would you? The Hatching is in just a few weeks," Tesni reported, watching the girl over the rim of her glass. She didn't even notice how the young man was staring too.

[syn]

She didn't know about the idea of fetching ice, but if she did she would be in support. She had worked as a tender long enough to know that warm drinks made people angry, and she herself longed for a cold mug of ale once in a while. But Shera didn't know of this proposition, and so she merely leaned against the bar and listened. At first she bit her tongue to make sure she was actually hearing what she thought she heard.

She was still here, the rider was still here--oh, whatever she had done to deserve this, she swore she'd do it again. Yet she kept her face as straight as possible as she indicated Velain. "That one seems about my age, might be pleased to have a shot at dragon riding. You'd have to ask him first." And then Shera inhaled and squeezed her hands together underneath the bar. "And I ain't got much to leave behind. I wouldn't mind trying."