Refuge [OPEN]

Indivara was up early, for various reasons and not the least of which was a loud and obnoxious Grith landing on the roof of her mother's hut, demanding Khainth come out and play. A'din had managed to send both green dragons on their way, but not before all three occupants of the small hut were wide awake. The young girl was the most put out, having been up late the night before sneaking out to the forest. The child enjoyed the gentle quiet of the trees in winter, and late at night they whispered to her. They also offered some very interesting opportunities to learn people's secrets (the forest has eyes, and they belong to Indivara.) and the girl would, eventually, exploit the more interesting ones, though even the less than immediately worthy secrets were kept close. She just had to wait for the right opportunity and Indivara considered herself a patient person. Secrets were like wine, the longer they brewed, the better they would eventually taste; or they would go sour, but she tended to ignore that. After all, Katilan Secrets were not Katilan Wine... More like Benden, perhaps.

Which, truth be told, was the entire reasoning behind her current expedition. Indivara, being a resourceful child, had discovered an opportunity: Her mother, for some reason, had taken a shine to a pretty carved box one of her friends was in possession of. General questions of a curious nature had informed the girl of the maker, and it was to that maker the child was now travelling, her breath puffing out before her though she wasn't all that cold. Born in the South, she didn't understand what 'cold' was, like some of the Northerners that bitched and moaned about Katila being so hot. She liked the warmth, it was pleasant. At any rate, while Indivara had yet to decide what it was she'd demand of her mother by holding the pretty trinket just out of her reach, she knew it would be worth it. It was that reasoning that had the child slipping into the Craft Hall and whisper on silent feet to the room where she knew the wood crafter in question was want to work. Not expecting anyone to be there, Indivara was slightly surprised when she caught sight of Lymsleia.

Her surprise didn't last long, however, and there was none of it on her mangled face as she moved up beside the confused looking woman. "Hello, Lym," she said mildly, voice neither hushed nor obnoxiously loud in the soft morning air. The girl hadn't seen much of the midwife since the Hatching, though that hardly surprised her. The girl had mostly been in Talian's care to set her face right (or as right as possible, given the horrendous scarring not even his skills could obliterate) and she could understand the disappointment of not Impressing - had felt it herself in the worse way possible. But it wasn't just that that had her out of Lymsleia's sight. that, Lymsleia's speciality was babies and all that womanly junk, that Indivara, despite her budding body (or perhaps because of it) was loath to be involved in. She had no intention of having babies, ever (D'ren could jump off a mountain cliff before she'd exchange her body for the right to stand. Damn him to Threadfall, she was a Weyrbrat! It was her birth right to Stand!) and she knew everything any Weyrbrat knew about sex. Just because she hadn't done it didn't mean she was oblivious. Her mother was a greenrider, after all. She knew what went on, and she knew between would keep her from having anyone's baby. What more could she possibly need to know?

Nothing. That's what.

When she picked up the sound of quiet work - the soft grinding of sandpaper against wood - Indivara zoned in on it, flashing a fleeting smile at Lymsleia before slipping into the room and quickly bee lining for where Belamie was working peacefully. Indivar's expression was at ease and pleasant as the young girl came to a standstill by the older woman; close enough to see and speak without getting in her space. Curious, Indivara peered with interest at the spoons that were being smoothed out, one eyebrow arching delicately, though it manipulated the scarring on her fine face in a much less delicate manner. Her blue eyes lifted to look at the young woman, gaze thoughtful and warm. "Hey Belamie," Indivara said politely, not at all unconscious of the fact that her knowledge of names and faces could creep some people out. Particularly when she'd never bothered to speak to them before, as Indivara tended to ignore the Northerners in favour of the dragonriders and Weyrbrats that were more native to their community. She couldn't handle the sulking or moaning they uttered as they whined about being stuck at Katila.

"Id like to commission a piece if work." There was certainly no point in beating around the bush, and Indivara figured Belamie would be the type to appreciate some up front communication. The child leaned back on her heels slightly, her face contorting thoughtfully as she eyed the woman in question. While she had little in the way of marks, Indivara was willing to exchange her personal assistance (running errands, or, whatever the crafter negotiated) in exchange for the work she wanted done. She knew the Journeywoman was good at the detailed and pretty work, which was exactly what her mother was after. Of course, as soon as she'd mentioned the idea to Kerrin, he'd laughed in her face (after all, since when did Indivara do anything for someone else? Especially work) which, the girl admitted to herself, was the main reason she was now standing before the wood worker. Kerrin could go suck on a clump of Thread. She'd show him!