Post by Kaya on Sept 3, 2018 20:46:33 GMT -8
| 79.01.10 | night | Dalonia's office | Cait |
After they had left the night before, only hours ago, Libby had slunk back into the kitchens to find what could be had of quiet without being alone. Anchor found her immediately as soon as she'd dropped her wish that he keep away, the Iron firelizard wound tightly around her neck and shoulders. Back in the kitchens Libby had topped off the heating klah pot and took a cup for herself. She got maybe one sip before the nerves wore off and she fell asleep. She woke in pieces, sensing the kitchen moving about. Someone had taken an empty flour sack and draped it over her. Libby took that to mean they didn't need her at the moment and let the busy rhythm of the kitchen lull her back to sleep. When she woke and wanted to stay awake next the kitchen was much quieter. Anchor had hardly loosened his grip, but shifted around as she did, letting the flour sack crumple to one side. She stretched and massaged the knot in her neck for sleeping so.
Together she and Anchor scarfed their dinner, or breakfast, the label didn't so much matter. At last, rested and fed, she moved on to the next most important item, which was reporting what little she had seen to someone who might use it better. Libby patted the spot where she hid her knife, for comfort more than preparedness, and took off to find Dalonia. While she had only had a short time to grasp this Weyr's particulars, she found it vitally important to know who the big names were. And since wher handlers tended to come through the kitchens at odd hours it made them even easier to remember. So Libby sought out the offices in the lower caverns, she had made a few deliveries there, and found the one she believed to be the Crimson wherhandler's. She raised a hand to knock and while the raps sounded out she grasped for a title and came back with none. "Something to report," Libby called out. "For Dalonia." Accurate at least, if not appropriately formal.
After they had left the night before, only hours ago, Libby had slunk back into the kitchens to find what could be had of quiet without being alone. Anchor found her immediately as soon as she'd dropped her wish that he keep away, the Iron firelizard wound tightly around her neck and shoulders. Back in the kitchens Libby had topped off the heating klah pot and took a cup for herself. She got maybe one sip before the nerves wore off and she fell asleep. She woke in pieces, sensing the kitchen moving about. Someone had taken an empty flour sack and draped it over her. Libby took that to mean they didn't need her at the moment and let the busy rhythm of the kitchen lull her back to sleep. When she woke and wanted to stay awake next the kitchen was much quieter. Anchor had hardly loosened his grip, but shifted around as she did, letting the flour sack crumple to one side. She stretched and massaged the knot in her neck for sleeping so.
Together she and Anchor scarfed their dinner, or breakfast, the label didn't so much matter. At last, rested and fed, she moved on to the next most important item, which was reporting what little she had seen to someone who might use it better. Libby patted the spot where she hid her knife, for comfort more than preparedness, and took off to find Dalonia. While she had only had a short time to grasp this Weyr's particulars, she found it vitally important to know who the big names were. And since wher handlers tended to come through the kitchens at odd hours it made them even easier to remember. So Libby sought out the offices in the lower caverns, she had made a few deliveries there, and found the one she believed to be the Crimson wherhandler's. She raised a hand to knock and while the raps sounded out she grasped for a title and came back with none. "Something to report," Libby called out. "For Dalonia." Accurate at least, if not appropriately formal.
