Date: 25.13.2684 (04.26.10)
Location: Kitchens, Fort Weyr
People: B'ky, Calria, Galina, Neyuni
Firelizards: Green Naia
Synopsis: Galina's baking is briefly interrupted … and the mystery meat for the soup du jour is revealed.
Cold, windy, and dreary, the snowy weather outside is a sharp contrast to the warmth of the kitchens, heat of the stoves and hearths keeping this place toasty despite the chill in the weyr bowl. It's late evening, and the dinner rush is slowing, the crowd in the caverns having dwindled somewhat, thoug plenty of stragglers are about. The Roc wingleader, sporting his usual crimson and indigo leathers, is just emerging from the storage room, clipboard in hand. His flight goggles are still perched at an angle on his forehead, the man likely having forgotten he was wearing them while getting supply lists from one of the cooks. He's unsmiling, although the tired lines around his eyes and mouth are softened by the faintly nostalgic look in his pale eyes. Gaze drifting across the kitchen, and then briefly resting on the staircse down to the living caverns, he stops to let out his breath. His posture speaks of fatigue, though for now, with the paperwork recieved, he turns his attention to the few pots still steaming on one of te stoves.
Don't mind the geist in the corner, the one that's taking advantage of a restday and cooks that are willing to grant her a wide berth to do as she will. Never mind that she's wearing her Healer's knot; she seems to know her way around the kitchens well enough that the cooks feel comfortable leaving her to her own devices. As it is, Galina's just getting started with the process of making … well, something. Dried cranberries, orangefruit, and a plethora of other things are being measured, zested, or mixed as appropriate. And if one's listening especially carefully over the din of the kitchens, they might just hear her humming a little. Maybe. Or it might be something else entirely. In either case, she doesn't immediately notice the bluerider leaving the stores … not until she realizes she's missing something or another and she looks up, catching sight of his feathers from the corner of her eye. She pauses in her work, a slow, owlish blink being given, but no greeting is immediately forthcoming.
Neyuni has no real reason to be in the kitchen. She looks more to be randomly wandering, quietly moving through here and there. For the moment that has taken her into the kitchens which are pleasantly not overcrowded with dinner waning beyond the dirty dishes piling up as her head peeks around the doorway. Perhaps the chill has pushed her deeper inside, the warmth and smells more attrative than other spots deeper in the caverns?
The weather outside is cold and windy and terribly dreary, but the kitchen is toasty from the heat of the stoves and hearths. The Roc wingleader has just emerged from a storage room, clipboard in hand, flight goggles pushed up at an angle on his forehead, his crimson and indigo leathers likely making him stand out amongst all the cooks. B'ky finds a clean bowl and sneaks- that is, wanders over to one of the open soup pots, ladling some of it into his bowl. He notices Galina over there, thin brows rising slightly at all the ingredients at her work surface. He inclines his head politely with a quiet, "Hello," for the healer-girl, "Ah, I see you're baking again?" He sets the ladle down to find a clean spoon, back straightening almost unconsciously as he catches sight of Neyuni, offering the goldrider a more formal, "Neyuni."
Of course, the Healer's got her hands in a bowl of orange-scented dough, though she's utterly still while she watches B'ky. Galya's interest is abstract, just tracking movement until, eventually, her pale gaze lowers to study the substance in her hands. Visual confirmation of consistency … check! She reaches for the bowl of dried cranberries and orange zest and dumps them in, with a little more kneading going on to work them in before she's echoing B'ky's "Hello," and granting a shallow inclination of her head of affirmation. "My mentor felt I should take advantage of my spare time in a constructive manner today." She's not terribly displeased by the idea, for once. Neyuni's arrival is noted only when the bluerider draws attention to it, a slow blink for the goldrider sufficing as a greeting for now.
Neyuni blinks as she's spotted, head peeking around the doorway. "B'ky?" is returned, somewhat a statement, somewhat a question. Not that many, if any, could be mistaken for the winglead. Her body follows into the warmth of the kitchens, looking around at nothing in particular for a moment. "Well, don't let me interrupt anything…just passing through." she eyes Galina's dough curiously a little before peeking into the nearest soup pot.
Over Neyuni's head, a brilliant spring green firelizard zips in through the doorway, and eyes the goings on in the kitchen with interest. Shortly after her comes Calria looking a bit cross. "I have stuff for you to eat up at the weyr, really. No need for you to come barging in here and disrupting the cooks." The bluerider gives an apologetic look to Neyuni but is interrupted when the glowing green finds a cooling roast waiting to be cut. The rider stages a quick intervention to keep it from being soiled by firelizard teeth. "Really! I wish you'd hurry up and rise so we can get past all this." At this admonition Naia reluctantly lands on Cal's shoulder. With that little drama over, the young woman finally has a chance to look around and see who else is in the room. "Oh, B'ky. Nice to see you. Again." They keep running into each other outside of work lately, it's a bit odd. The eyebrows go up as the healer is spotted, but she doesn't get a hello, knowing already that she wouldn't get one back.
B'ky nods to Galina, tilting his head a little, "I see," and inquiring, "What are you baking?" There's another nod for Neyuni this time, B'ky catching her glance toward the soup pot and offering, "Ah, would you like some? It's still quite warm." He raises his bowl with a slight smile, stirring it briefly before lifting a spoon to blow on the still-steaming soup. He pauses to watch Calria's firelizard, and then the other bluerider herself, thin rows rising a bit. He takes a step toward her with a, "Calria," in greeting, indicating the clipoard, "I've aactually been meaning to speak with you-" but the words are suddenly cut off as something on his spoon.. /wriggles/. One startled B'ky jerks back, nearly dropping the bowl, and sending a wriggling something flying across the kitchen. Whoops.
The dough is turned out onto the floured surface of the counter and deftly worked into a log under palms that have done this far more times than she might care to remember. The firelizard's arrival earns a pointed look, but perhaps more to discern whether it's one of hers or another's; when the owner becomes apparent, Calria's given a shallow nod of greeting and Galina soon returns to the task of methodically making sure the dough-log is /just/ the right size. "There is nothing to interrupt, weyrwoman," is intoned to Neyuni, though the young woman doesn't look up from her work. "I am just baking something that I learned how to make at Ogren." Nor is it the only thing, but … it's definitely a comfort food. And familiar, given the lack of a notebook or paper or anything else that might contain a recipe. She's just about ready to pick up the knife to cut the log when that wriggling thing is sent flying, the arc and movement of it eliciting a bland-sounding, "I did not realize quite how fresh the soup was." Bad joke. Bad, bad joke.
Neyuni sniffs at the soup, doesn't seem to bad and ducks as the firelizard wings in. Calria is admired for the way she manages the rather bright green. "Looks interesting at that. A bread or sweet?" she guesses randomly at Galina's creation which must be quite familiar given how the other is mixing it so expertly with nary a hint of a recipe card handy. Then there's the strange motin that B'ky makes and something flyign thru the kitchen which is so much more out of place than the earlier firelizard. She flinches again, maybe this isn't such a good place to wander thru afterall. "Y'know, I think I'll… pass on the soup." if that's how the other rider is reacting to it, her interest quickly wanes.
Calria looks a little like a trapped feline when B'ky takes a step toward her. Uh-oh, what did he want to talk to her about this time? Usually when he wanted to talk to her, it wasn't something good. She tenses up slightly, eyes darting to both sides, looking for an exit. Fortunately that heightened awareness gives her just the edge she needs to duck the flying trundlebug that zips past her shoulder. Phew, that was close. Naia also notices the trundlebug, but has a different reaction to it. She leaps from the bluerider's shoulder to chase after it, which causes her owner to groan. Or, maybe the groan was for the joke uttered by the healer. Really, she can't figure that girl out. Nor can she figure out what it is that's being cooked. But instead of waiting with Neyuni to hear the answer, she goes off looking for her wayward firelizard, who hopefully hasn't knocked too much stuff over in persuit of the trundlebug.
B'ky looks vaguely horrified, giving Calria an apologetic look, "Ah.. sorry," tone faintly sheepish. He watches the firelizard go after the flying trundlebug, suppressing a grimace and letting his spoon drop back into his bowl. The soup is given a suspicious look, almost, the man agreeing with Neyuni, "I.. think I will as well." There might be mild disgust flitting across his features as he goes to dispose of the remaining soup in his bowl, and perhaps find a cook for a quiet word about the contents of the pot. As for Galina's joke.. the man just /looks/ at her for a moment, thoroughly unamused.
The young woman poises the blade to start cutting the log into disks, though she holds off for the moment to watch what's going on with the trundlebug that was in the soup and is now in the air … and, quite possibly, doomed to be in a firelizard belly. "Interesting." A sidelong look is given to the pot of soup in question, some mental note being made before Galina replies to Neyuni with, "A sweet quickbread, to be precise. Orange and cranberry, with an orange-sweetener glaze. It is ideal with lighter citrus teas or a carefully brewed black tea." Disks, roughly three finger-widths wide, are cut with the precision one might expect of a surgical apprentice. She is, naturally, oblivious to odd looks or groans that may or may not be directed to her. Or, more likely, she's just not sure how to interpret them, so she leaves them be. She has work to do, after all. Like … cutting stuff. "The stew is safe. I ate some earlier."
Neyuni looks a bit dazed, to much for her to handle right now. She dips her head in acknowledgement to Galina as she creeps to the door. "That sounds quite delicious, I hope the other's here are taking notes…" as for her it seems it is tie to be elsewhere and with a final look at the kitchen she slips away.
B'ky sets his bowl on the countertop near the sink and moves to find another clean one. He gives Neyuni a nod as the goldrider departs, and glances around for Cal. failing to find his wingrider, he gives a quiet, if tired, sigh, gaze dstant for a second or two. And the he turns his attention back to Galina, saying flatly, "If it has.. creatures in it, I hardly think it's safe." Though granted, trundlebugs probably aren't fatally poisonus. But still. He moves to a different pot, using a spoon to stir it, carefully checking for any possible.. critters. And then he spoonsa bit of it into a bowl, tucking his clipboard beneath an arm and turning back to the storage room. Before he goes, he's polite enough to murmur an, "If you'll excuse me," to the healer-girl, and then heads back to work. Flying trundlebugs or no, his evening is far from over.
"The other stew is safe," is reiterated mildly, though the girl lapses into silence. Only when he utters his parting words does she speak again, a flat "Of course," being given. And thus is the Healer left to finish her work — more cutting of dough, followed by casual arrangement on cookie sheets to be baked to a uniform golden brown. Glazed. Packed in parchment paper. And soon, most of them are whisked off to parts unknown, while a few bundles remain behind for the cooks to distribute as they see fit. For Galina, she has other things to tend to, not the least of which include making a delivery to the infirmary … and then a retreat to her quarters, if only for a little while.
