Re: Nice to meet you, to meet you nice. (Ysolde/Margana/Zlorenth)


Margana looked up from her solitary card game as she heard the knock.  It couldn't be Cremsden, since he lived here and he hadn't knocked in several months now.  She wasn't expecting any laundry deliveries, or...

{{Just answer the door,}} Zlorenth said grumpily.  {{That knocking is annoying me.  Or send Celestia out to see who it is.}}

Sending Celestia out sounded like a good idea, but Margana felt she was being paranoid.  Instead, she went and opened the door.  "Yes?" she asked.

On Mon, Jan 1, 2018 at 6:24 AM, Nutmeg nutmeg.witch@... [ArolosWeyr] <ArolosWeyr@...> wrote:

OoC: Set in and around the measles outbreak but before the windy Fall. The Harper in question is just a made up NPC, feel free for Margana to know of him or have no idea at all xD

IC: With the package under her arm, Ysolde had set off from the Crafter quarters in search of their patron. It had been a generous commission, nothing overly fancy but a large order of buckles monogrammed and inscribed for a Harper who, in his elder years, decided that he needed a new look and apparently engraved belt buckles was it.

Looking at the instructions in her hand as she trotted through the tunnels, Ysolde was absolutely, well, nearly absolutely, positive that she had written his directions down correctly but she had knocked on four doors already and absolutely no one had heard of Master Zorian. Sigh. Either his elderly mind had gotten it completely wrong, which she doubted as he had seemed as sound as a bell or, which was far more likely, she had gotten it wrong. Well, she wasn't going to finish until she'd gotten the job done. She was positive that at the very least, she was in the right part of the Weyr, she remembered the man saying how he'd managed to get a little set of quarters up near some of the Rider weyrs which allowed him a view over the Weyr Bowl. So, right section, just not quite.

Time to start knocking on doors and asking for directions.

Luckily, Ysolde wasn't so proud as to refuse to acknowledge that she needed a bit of help. One by one it would have to be. Striding up to the first door she came to, she rapped loudly on it, hoping someone was home.

Nutmeg on the Wizzy.
Florcott on AIM.

I'm sometimes slow and have the memory of a sieve at times, so don't hesitate to poke me if you think you've been forgotten!

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