[PRP] will name soon (Dorame & V'tre)

[Z o m b i k ii]

The evening was fastly approaching and before long it would be curfew. Delicious smells circulated around the corridors that surrounded the kitchen. All she could think about was finding the source of that enticing smell. The warm, comforting aroma teased her nostrils and caused her stomach to convulse.

Dorame realised she had forgotten to eat, again. She was the kind of woman who was always impatient when it came to food, the mandatory lunch period always seemed like a waste and the time was often spent on other, in her eyes more important, tasks. She could go days without a proper meal, living off of little more than bird seed and chunks of bread that were casually nibbled at whilst she was on the go. However, when her hunger did catch up with her it manifested into something fierce.

A cloud of hot air hit her face as the entered. Her skin and hair took on the golden hue that spread from the fire. Suddenly uncomfortable, she shrugged off her thick cloak and threw it over the back of a nearby stool. The fabric of the dress she wore underneath was finer, layered in airy drapes that seemed to dance as she moved.

She lifted the lid from a pot that contained the remnants of some kind of strew and took in a deep breath, it was most certainly the smell that had been tormenting her.

It would appear she had not even noticed the figure sat in the corner of the kitchen. She had not done anything to acknowledge his presence nor had she even spared him a glance. Yet she knew someone was there. There was always someone to be found in the kitchen, it really was the heart of the Weyr.

“Isn’t it a little late to be peeling vegetables?” She asked.  

[ShinosBee]

It'd been some months now since the fateful day that V'tre and Thanoth had been thrown from the sky, never to rise again. Months of painful, slow recuperation that had left them both restless and irritable... though thankfully, they still had each other. That was one thing rider and dragon could agree upon, and it had been the lone balm for quite a while which had pulled them through to the other side intact... or as intact as they would ever be again. They'd clung tightly to each other long enough for the pain and grief and fear to pass, and finally been able to release their grips just a bit now that they realized that neither was going to disappear.

Thanoth of course would never return to wing-practice—she would never fly again at all, nor run, or do anything more than hobble, really. She and V'tre both could have simply lived at the Weyr, been carried along by the rest of its people for at least a while... but they were also both young. V'tre especially felt unable to sit still, and had, once he'd been allowed to rejoin the working forces (and been fitted with a sturdy wooden leg where once flesh had been) and could bare to be parted from Thanoth, sure she wouldn't wink between never to be seen again the moment he turned his back, set about finding himself work he could manage. His craft, before his unexpected impression barely turns ago (it felt both forever ago and mere days still) had been smithing, and though his focus had been on finer things, jewelry, trinkets, that sort, he still found himself indeed and straining if he focused on that small minutia too long. Instead he'd followed his nose for gossip, and the rumbling gut of a still-growing young man, to the kitchens.

They always needed more hands in the kitchens, and the steady warmth of the ovens and hearths chased away the lingering chill that even the late spring days couldn't quite keep out of the high mountain Weyr, which he'd realized played havoc with his leg. He got all the free taste-test bites he could want, and he could send the little green firelizard of his zipping off with treats for Thanoth as well. The work was also less refined, and easier on his stamina—he'd be done after an hour of bending wires, but he could peel tubers for most of a day without straining himself.

Plus it was often frankly entertaining. The young man had a mind like a trap, and he craved the sort of gossip and rumors that swirled with the hot flavorful steam around the caverns. He was there to see when wayward weyrbrats got their knuckles rapped for trying to sneak pies, and he as the silent watchful eye when a certain rider and his lady-fair came creeping after hours to find a bottle or two of wine. Or a third partner. Oh yes, he saw all sorts of interesting things from his corner in the kitchens. That was why a lone young woman (candidate-age, though probably older than himself, not that that was a challenge) came in on tiptoes an hour or so after dinner as done, he didn't pay her much mind. Someone was always late, hunting down a plate or bowl. They kept the stew on for just that reason, really—no one went hungry in the Weyr.

Her calling out to him was a surprise though, and he jumped a little on his stool, the knife sinking a full thumb's width into the vegetable he'd been at. He blinked a bit owlishly after her, then back at the vegetable... and then shrugged, the black and blue rider's knots, threaded through with green to match Thanoth's hide flicking against his shoulder. "I don't really have anywhere else to be, and there's no music tonight in the hall. Too early to sleep, you know?" He leaned to one side a bit, trying to see around her hair to catch her face... the voice wasn't familiar, but then, it would be hard to know everyone by name in a Weyr as large as High Reaches. "Bowls are in the cupboard to the left. Spoons two drawers down, but forks are in the top one if you rather."

Z o m b i k ii

 

[Z o m b i k ii]

ShinosBee

“Is that so?” The woman mused as she casually gathered the forks and two bowels in which she ladled the stew. She placed them both on a wooden board and added a generous chunk of bread and a slither of cheese. There were a few bottles of wine that had been left out, containing but a few mouthfuls of nectre each; she chose the one with the darkest, richest colour to accompany the meal.

When all was prepared she carried the board to the table where the boy was sitting and made her perch on the stool opposite him. She laid out the board between them like an offering. An invitation to join her in this small indulgence, though, the bowls were only half full and contained more broth than vegetables. Dorame was a petite woman, and it did not take much to fill her stomach.

A dark complexion and the remnants of a southern accent marked her as a foreigner within the Weyr and her slender frame was not at all suited for life in the mountains. She was, in many ways, a little bird who had flown far way from her nest. A Nightingale in the cold reaches of the North.

She bit into the cork that sealed the bottle and pulled it out with a satisfying pop. Her green eyes closed as she brought the bottle to her lips, drinking down a generous mouthful of vibrant liquid. When they opened they came to focus on her dinner companion, sharp and curious despite there pale, ghostly appearance. She held the bottle neck out towards him in a wordless dare.

A pair of thick brows framed youthful eyes; his nose was straight and his jaw just beginning to square. The boy was, presumably, still in his teens and on the verge of manhood. Yet, even sat down, he was obviously both broader and taller than she was. That was nothing to brag about. Heichath often proudly proclaimed that he was a mammoth blue that carried the littlest rider. Despite this, Dorame carried herself like a Queen, with an aura of confidence and purpose that betrayed her noble bloodline.

“A meal is always more satisfying when in good company. Don't you agree?” Her smile learnt more towards a smirk as her head tilted just so.  

[ShinosBee]

He watched her putter about with only slightly more than passing interest—sure, she looked like she belonged anywhere but a place like this, which was so cold and stony, but then, he hadn’t been raised here either, and he looked exactly the part. Her height made him miscount her years, and he assumed her to be of about an age with himself. She hadn’t been on the sands when he’d impressed... but then, again, neither had he. Maybe she had been there, dressed all in white that day, and he’d missed it in all the excitement of being plucked from the stands, lifted up out of his life as a simple crafter, holder, and turned unexpectedly to a life of ridership. He did know that he didn’t know her name...

...But then she came his way, smiling like a feline-handler with a secret, and he realized that he might very well like to know her name.

To that end, he did not turn his nose up at her offering (though she apparently hadn’t thought to stir the cauldron, she’d scooped almost only broth for them!) or reject the wine. Once upon a time his best friend had been a vinter... though he hadn’t heard from her in months. A turn maybe. She’d supposedly snuck off to another Weyr, determined to match his luck for impressing, but then... nothing.

The wine was rich and heady—too high-flung for his tastes, and he nearly snipped a comment about the flavor trying too hard and going nasal at a buzz before he thought to bite the words back. It had been a kind gesture of hers to share, and he even thought it might not be because of pity. That had been the source of much of his company lately... but this woman, girl, whomever she was, hadn’t even glanced at his leg, wasn’t treating him like cracked glass fit to shatter. It was a nice change.

“I suppose so, though you didn’t have to make me a plate...” Still, he was a growing boy. He wouldn’t turn his nose up even if she hadn’t been quite so... well. He took up the bread in one hand, ripping it into smaller bits and dredging one in the broth; his other hand thrust towards her, still-calloused fingers flexing to take hers. “Company means names, right? ‘M V’tre, of green Thanoth.” That much at least hadn’t changed—he was still a rider, though he didn’t technically do much riding these days...

Z o m b i k ii

 

[Z o m b i k ii]

ShinosBee

You didn’t have to make me a plate… As his words trailed off and silence reigned, green eyes sharply rose to meet his gaze. The implication of his words was obviously a foreign concept as far as she was concerned. “I felt like it.” Her words were pointed in an attempt to spear his concern but her voice remained as melodic as a song-wherry.

Her chin rested on the back of her hand and in her fingers she held a chunk of crusty bread. Her gaze had softened, and though her eyes were still fixed in his direction, she was not staring at him uncomfortably. It was like he just so happened to be placed in the centre of her vision, but that fact was unintentional, she could have been looking towards any horizon.

“I am not the kind of person who is comfortable eating whilst someone elses plate is empty. My heart is soft like that, I suppose.” Her eyes refocused, her consciousness returning from whatever dreamy thought it had been changing. Her smile held an apology - she had been defeated in her quest to recall him.

She nibbled on the bread, taking small, calculated bites and chewing an unnecessary amount to lay waste to time, for one last attempt to find him. If she had seen him before, the memory was an illusive light in the corner of her peripheries, it moved and faded and disappeared the more she tried to focus on it.

The woman disregarded the bread she was eating. Throwing it on the floor to be salvaged by a flint who was, just a moment just a moment ago, nothing more than a pair of piercing eyes hiding in a shadow.

“With a face like yours - I would not expect to have such a hard time placing it.” He had distinctive features that his face was yet to grow into. A flower that was only just beginning to bloom and reveal its colour. She placed her hand in the boys.

He had workers hands - hard and rough and very different to her own. Her fingers were delicate and her skin was soft. Heichath had grown and grown from the moment he came into the world - it had been painful for him and she was sure no rider had ever needed to oil a beast as much as she did.

“Dorame of Blue Heichath. Well met - V’tre.” Her head bowed and with it, her eyes closed, her gaze finally releasing him.