Pancaked Truths


Indira.jpg Jaya.jpg

Date: 2010.08.05
Location: EW - Kitchens
Synopsis: Jaya catches Indira in a ‘real’ moment. Talk ensues and pancakes are shared.
Rating: PG13 - some language
Logger: Indira

This time of night would usually find the kitchens devoid of their normal human activity. However, the glows are unlidded, the counter strewn with various baking ingredients and…Indira humming softly to herself as she holds a bowl against her, mixing a batter together. Hair in an untidy bun, flour dusted on her nose and barefeet, this can only be considered a rare momentary glimpse into the woman behind the title.

Where the kitchens were once the haunting place of the bar owner, after sevendays of neglect the kitchens have become the favorite haunt again. Jaya, wrapped in a quilt-like blanket strewn with the rich colors of burgundy, deep gold and navy blue, saunters into the kitchen with every appearance of one that was expecting it to be deserted. Her expression falls when she finds that not to be the case, the blanket getting a tug closer to her person as she pauses on the threshold. She takes in the spectacle, her gaze lighting on the busy countertop before sweeping over to where she hears the soft humming. Brows knit together at the sight of the headwoman, seeming to pause on whether to leave or stay as she remains frozen in one spot.

Having glanced up to add more milk to whatever she’s making, Indira’s attention falls to the quilt wrapped bundle standing in the doorway. “Jaya,” voice husky and oddly warm, although that could be the effects of the half open bottle of booze standing on the counter. “Come in, darlin’,” the drawl so similar to that of her son’s, “Hungry?” The bowl she’s busy with tilted a little so that a thin batter that could be used for pancakes can be seen.

Jaya spots the booze last, but it's the rather warm voice that has brows dropping into a furrow. Indeed, perhaps too much of her son in this woman. Dark eyes taking in the bowl of batter, "Do you cook for Lomaxin this way?" she asks, perhaps in an attempt to offset the older woman as she takes tentative steps further into the kitchen. Then, stopping by the table set up she seems rather hesitant to add, "Didn't know you could cook." Nevermind the fact that the bar owner knew little of the headwoman anyway.

Low laughter as the bowl gets set down and the wine glass taken up that had been hidden behind a container of sugar, “Not since he was a little boy. He don’t come around as much as he used.” Wistful at the end there. Shaking that off another glass is reached for, filled and set in front of Jaya, “Take a seat.” Indicating one of the stools set up nearby. Taking a pan out and moving to set it over the hearth to heat up an easy chuckle arrives, “That would be a bit like a bar owner that doesn’t drink, don’t you think?”

"Dreaming of mother and son moments gone by?" There's low sarcasm here as Jaya takes up the offered stool, seeming to have made up her mind that she had wanted to stay. She watches the other woman pour the wine, then notes the pan with a little frown. "I don't drink -all- the time," she says in her defense to the last, bringing her intense gaze back on Indira. "Bad for business, you know. Plus we barkeeps gotta keep our wits about us in case our patrons deem it wise to cheat us out of wine and secrets," and the scarred-faced woman lifts a finger and taps the side of her head a few times along with the little smile that comes forth. "No one looks out for us, see."

That barb hits the spot and has Indira turning a taut look onto the bar owner. Back to the counter to take up the bowl, dark eyes touch on the younger woman, “Why the interest in him, hmm?” No hidden intent other than curiosity there as she turns back to the hearth and hunkers down to pour a small measure of batter into the pan. Talking as she works, “Life’s too short to keep everyone in the dark, Jaya. It’s a hard thing,” turning to indicate a plate on the counter, “Bring me that,” and then back to her train of thought, “Push people away for long enough and there’ll come a day when you need someone and there’s no one there to stand behind you. It gets lonely.” Spoken from her own bitter experience.

"He fucked me, what else?" Jaya has no tact, clearly, the blanket getting shifted off of her as she seems to feel the heat rising in the kitchen. "But don't worry. Your son and I aren't friends. It was just… one of those moments." She affects a light shrug for good measure, too. Just like that. She keeps her eyes on Indira as she works, and when ordered for the plate the bar owner relinquishes her hold on the large blanket completely, letting it pool to the floor. Handing the plate over once she gets off the stool, "Been there, -so- done that," she drawls on pushing people away with a touch of dryness. "Don't have the kind of life where it's wise for everyone to know my business, headwoman. Know what I mean?"

Well, that'll get just about anyone's attention and has Indira visibly blanching a shade or two. Though whether for the language, or her son's actions, is hard to tell. Lips pursed as she takes the plate from Jaya in silence and turns a pancake out onto it. Pouring another pool of batter in the pan, "I see." Quietly spoken and then flickering a sidelong glance over to the younger woman as she exhales a long sigh, "He's not…" frowning a little, "Don't think too badly of him, Jaya." Some of her earlier easygoing mood having slipped off, she puts a short smile out, "Even the worst of us have a right to be loved and cared for, darlin'. It just comes down to whether or not we'll let someone in." Which, she doesn't seem to be very good at doing herself.

Jaya reclaims the stool once the plate is taken, regarding the change in Indira's mood with mild interest. Catching that glance and the word attached to it, the dark-haired woman merely flaps a hand at her in dismissal of it. Finally taking up the glass of wine set before her, "Sounds as if you would know," she drawls, taking a sip of the wine before nodding in her appreciation of it. "And well… I'm just a girl, shuga," she adds on latter directly, sending out a self-deprecating laugh. "A girl that apparently likes to add more drama to her own life. I don't have the time to worry about who I should be lettin' in. Seems to me like you understand that, hm?"

Another pancake flipped out onto the plate has Indira setting it down to one side and moving over to the counter to take up her glass. Silence as a long sip is taken and then as she moves back to the hearth, glass in hand. Of knowing her son, “I used to,” quietly spoken and then flashing a quick smile, “I think…he’s trying to find his path again,” one bare shoulder lifting in a shrug to that as the pile of pancakes continues to grow. Almost enough to feed the entire Weyr. The bowl of batter emptied, the headwoman returns, piled plate in one hand and glass in the other. “Tuck in,” a fork taken out and laid next to it. With a wry smirk, she waves a hand around, “See the tall dark and handsome I got waiting for me?” Yeah, she understands. With more levity and low spoken, “I’m sorry he was a shit to you, love.” Feeling the need to apologize for her son’s behaviour.

"Aren't we a pair?" Jaya takes another long sip from the wine before she sets it down and takes up the offered plate of pancakes with a nodded thanks. Tuck in she does! Fork lifting, "I think the tall, dark and handsomes have been taken already," the bar owner relates to the older woman, finally allowing an amused lopsided smile appear on her dark features. "I guess us wayward girls are just no match for them, eh?" A wink is given at that before the topmost pancake gets a bite. To the last, Jaya regards Indira for a moment with something unreadable before she brandishes her fork with much bravado. "He has been far more decent than the others," she drawls, her alto voice carefully casual and indifferent. "I've moved on, shuga. Got far more important things that need worryin' than a broken heart. More interested in hearing about where you got your cooking skills, actually." Brows lifting in a question Indira's way as she eats, not even hiding the fact that she's probing for information.

Jaya’s first draws a chuckle from the headwoman who seems to enjoy the making of the pancakes more than actually eating them, preferring to nurse her glass of wine instead. With a wrinkle of nose in agreement, “There’s a few about worth the tumble. But…passing scenery, you know?” shrugging once again before adding, “Then there’s those that you’d have to be a mindreader to figure out what the fuck they want from you.” Waving that off with a tipple of fingers, the wine is sipped at again, a soft sigh and rueful smile put over to the bar owner when mention of a broken heart is made, “Men, huh? Should try using the head with the face on it more often. Not sure what that says about us though.” The ones that fall for it. As to her cooking skills that draws a warmer smile into place, “Earned my position from the kitchens upward. Scrubbing pots, cooking, and then the storage caverns, inventory…you get the idea.” Passing a glance over the clutter on the counter, “I like cooking, I find it relaxing,” dark eyes straying to where the younger woman is tucking in with relish, “Nice to have someone to cook for again.”

"Do tell," Jaya, pausing her eating to regard the other woman with interest now when she mentions men worth the tumble as opposed to the ones one needed a mindreader for, offers the opening in easy grace. "Perhaps it's -them- that need the mindhealer, I would think. No point in being one yourself. Unless he's a mindhealer himself, and yet still…" there's a shake of her head before it gets pulled into draining her glass. Words of men themselves get a rather dry, "Just as well, darlin'. Let them use the head they want, I'd say. Makes using them all the more easy." A little mischievious glint in her eyes perhaps tell of there being experience in that, then it falls off to something more genial when Indira speaks of her cooking skills. Nodding towards her half-finished plate, "Should do it more often. Cook," she suggests lightly. "Used to find riding relaxing. Card games. Good brandy. Sewing," she admits openly to her.

Indira, not one to kiss and tell, merely passes a wink off to the bar owner, rich husky laughter entirely too wicked for her own good. As to those that could drive a woman to a mindhealer, there comes simply a roll of eyes and a rather healthy swallow of wine. Setting the glass down and leaning a hip against the counter as she refills it again, a small smile appears, one that holds a slightly sad quality to it, “Nights get lonely.” All she’ll say to talk of using men or being used. Amazing how liquor loosens the woman’s tongue. Either that or she’s simply in an unusually conversational mood this night. Shrugging a shoulder, she contemplates the diminishing stack of pancakes a chuckle appearing, “The cooks don’t like me in here messing with their stuff. Makes them feel like I’m interfering with their work.” Other pursuits of relaxation draw a grin from the woman, “Don’t get to ride nearly as much as I’d like to. Should get Max to saddle Starflight up for me some time soon.” Surprise colours hers eyes for Jaya’s admission, “You sew?”

Jaya laughs outright at that saucy wink from the headwoman, understanding shining in her dark eyes. "Touche," she drawls on that, raising her empty glass as if in a toast. When Indira goes to refill her own glass, she holds her own out for the same. "They do at that," she's easy to agree on lonely nights, her voice a little hoarse saying it. She's studying Indira closely now, however, her boot tapping idly against the bottom of the stool at the other's intriguing words. "Reckon we should keep one of them tied up and fed regularly for such situations?" She's gone to tying up men. What's next? The bar owner chuckles briefly on the cooks, passing a look towards the entrance as if expecting one of them to come barreling down on them just then. "You should get back into it," Jaya pauses then on riding before giving the words levelly, her own tongue just a bit uncharacteristically loosened by a little wine and a full stomach. A fond grin touching the corners of her mouth at the other's open surprise, "And yeah, I sew. Used to. My ma taught me a little before she died, and then I later found I had a knack for it." Shrugging, her eyes seeming a little unfocused from the memories, "My father would get me to sew up his trousers all the time," she relates, some of her smile waning. "He was always tearing them. I was convinced he was keeping some wanton whore somewhere in the traderwagon after awhile." Lips turn upward at her own crass joke.

Filling the glass Jaya holds out, her expression is a knowing one for lonely nights. Delighted laughter spills out on tying a man up, ““Tried that once. He got away,” looking entirely too serious about that. One can only hope this is the headwoman’s sense of humour at play. Idly Indira follows the other woman’s gaze out toward the tunnel and then shifts a small smile out, “I’m giving him his space.” That to her son and riding for relaxation. Sipping on the wine as the bar owner speaks of her family, interest held clear in her eyes, chuckling for the end comment of the girl’s father, “My weyrmate used to manage to wear holes in his butt. Told him once I was going to have the smiths fashion a metal seat for his pants.” After a short moment of contemplation she puts out, “You ever want something to keep your hands busy at night and earn a few extra marks, you let me know.”

"Ha!" Jaya lets the short burst spill free on Indira's initial words she goes back to her newly-filled glass. "The headwoman's got balls. Might actually like that." It shows in the amused gaze of the younger woman - impressed, perhaps? Mention of giving Max space does cause her to pause, a weird look passing over the bar owner before she hedges to say, "Y'know… don't give him -too- much space, y'hear? Free advice from a barkeep-to-be," she is quick to add, pressing her hand upon her chest in mock gravity. "Just trust me on that. Would've been nice to have my father around, space or not, is all." She lets the silence mark the significance of her words before moving on. "Didn't know you had a weyrmate," she drawls on that piece of information, leaning back in her stool now that she was fully finished eating. "Weyrmate. From this Weyr? He around here?" and her eyes go to the entrance for effect. As to the last, there's a throaty chuckle and a slight raise of her glass. "Ah now. My hands are plenty busy at night, shuga," she drawls the slight double entrende with a lift of her brows. "But I'll never turn down an opportunity to make a profit.""

Again low unapologetic laughter spills out and then is drowned in another mouthful of wine, “Careful darlin’, this headwoman bites,” her drawl becoming more pronounced with each passing sip of alcohol. The glass stays its path to her mouth and Indira sets a level look onto Jaya for the advice given on her son. It completes its course and silence spreads out before a quick smile shows up, “Advice taken note of Jaya.” And hopefully put to use sometime soon? A dark look flashes quickly in and out of the older blonde’s expression as she confirms a little stiffly, “Had. And no, not here. It was…a long time ago.” At a time and place she’d sooner forget. Latching onto that double entendre as simpler territory a smirk twists out, “I’ll just bet they are. But you know what they say about idle hands and all that, aye? You come see me when you’ve got the bar all set up and we can talk about the sewing work.”

"Apparently so do I," Jaya returns in a mutter the initial remark with no apology, draining her glass easily. "Funny that." With a gusty sigh now as she watches the other's take on her freely-given advice, she nods in the acceptance of it evenly. "A long time ago," the younger woman repeats the words on the unammed weyrmate, eyes pinned to Indira as she watches the emotions flash through her with interest. "Sounds like he was something special. Shall I assume that this one sired your son?" Look turns pointed at that, not letting the matter drop just yet. And then she realizes that her glass is empty again and reaches it out for another fill. Greedy, isn't she? The last gets an amused snort and wry, "If only," she drawls on idle hands such as her, her gaze far too full of mischief. Could be the wine. Yep. "But I'll come by. I'm curious about this work. Once the bar is ready, then."

There are just so many ways Indira could remark on the topic of biting, instead she ends up catching her lower lip with her teeth and eyeing Jaya with high amusement. That drains right off as she downs the last of her glass and sets it to the counter with a sound of glass to granite. Flatly given, “He was a bastard.” Which could mean either the circumstances of Lomaxin’s birth or her former weyrmate. Something she doesn’t look to be clarifying either way if the slightly hard look to her expression is anything to go by. Two fingers press to the bottle and slide it over the bar owner’s way for her to help herself, she apparently having lost her taste for it all of a sudden. “Nothin’ exctin’ darlin’, just some mendin’ work at first until we get more seamstresses in place. After that,” rolling a shrug to translate into a silent ‘We’ll see’. Plates and bowls and other utensils used for the pancake making start to get gathered up for washing as the older woman slips into silence.

The sudden growing change in Indira's demeanor is what now gets the bar owner's full interest. Lips drawn into a thin line, Jaya spies the hard look along with the words and takes up the offered bottle gratefully. As she pours into her glass, "Aren't men all?" she quietly gives on bastards, dark eyes flicking up to meet the other's at her statement. "Dragonriders, especially. I take it things did not….end well." Understatment of the night! Bottle gets set on the table and the glass is craddled close to her chest as she flicks her study over the headwoman slowly. On the seamstress work, the younger woman allows herself to silently agree with a firm nod. "What do I get in return?" she just couldn't help but to ask, fingers tapping lightly against the glass she holds close with both hands.

Moving to take a pot of boiling water off of one of the hearths, Indira returns to the counter and empties it into one of the wash basins, silent throughout and attention to the task. Jaya’s comment however draws a long sidelong look her way, dark eyes carefully guarded as she states, “He died.” So that would be a ‘yes’ of sorts to it not having ended well. As to the topic of dragonriders and men in general she pushes the edge of a smile out, “Not all men, Jaya. There’s still a few decent ones out there.” Though where they might be found, is beyond her. “Don’t need a man to live a full life,” this as cold water is added and used items start to get dropped into the bowl. Hands still and hold to the edges of the counter, the headwoman bowing her head for a moment. When it lifts there’s a brilliant smile in place as if the earlier shift in mood had merely been an illusion, “You’re still young darlin’. Plenty time to find that one meant for you, aye?” Back to washing up, she allows a chuckle to slip out, “You get to show your skills and an extra mark bit,” a reasonable amount named, “for your efforts.”

Death was something that pulled drained the color out of most, so Jaya's mask of a face was just like that at Indira's guarded answer. Brows knitting together, the younger woman blinks a few times as silences reigns from between them, then, "Unfortunate," is all she could say on that, her own voice carefully controlled as she stares back at the headwoman, and then she gives with some reluctance, "My apologies." She sees the smile that pushes forth anyway, words on men and dragonriders in particular getting a snort from her. "Never needed no man, shuga," she drawls on that point, lifting the glass to her waiting lips. "I've gotten this far, didn't I? Not bad for a trader-girl, I'd say." A long drink is taken, then brilliant smile getting Jaya to blanche just a bit at her. Frowning, "You're not -that- old yourself," she tosses back, looking the older woman over. "Awefully sure about -me-, aren't cha?" But something else does get her to pause in the witty banter, some of the bravado and amusement fading as she adds, "Ain't lookin' for love, headwoman. Don't think I'm that kind of girl. 'Sides," and she straightens with a roll of her shoulders, "Got enough trouble on my shoulders, shuga. Things I can't ignore." Pause. "Extra mark bit, eh?" Jaya chuckles at that, shaking her head. "Fine, but if I start sewing really good I may have to renegotiate." Riight.

Jaya’s condolences earn her a small flicker of a smile and then Indira’s turning away to stack the now washed items to dry. Taking up a hand towel she turns back, drying hands, though it might look more like she’s wringing them together. To needing or wanting a man in their lives, “Ain’t that what we all tell ourselves?” followed by a seemingly nonchalant toss of head she puts a lightly amused lift of brow onto the younger woman, “Old enough to be your mother, darlin’.” Hands lifting to untie the apron from behind her neck, a more genuine chuckle can be heard, “I used to be you, love. Just…a little wilder and minus the trading background.” Free of the apron and despite it needing to be laundered, long fingered hands set to folding it carefully her tone drawn softer, “We’re all lookin’ for love, Jaya. It’s the way we’re made.” A bared shoulder shrugging for that truth. Another smile to match Jaya’s chuckle, “If you start sewing really good, chances are your bar’s going to suffer and the Weyr needs it. Thread has a way of urging people to try and drown it in booze.”

"Doubt you were wilder than -me-," Jaya is lofty in this declaration, head tilting away to pin a speculative look on the headwoman. She doesn't seem to be contesting the fact that Indira was old enough to be her mother, either. "I'm pretty wild. Well, -was-, anyway. Kinda had that, umm…" and a hand involuntarily uncurls from her glass to scratch at the scar down the side of her face in the pause. The softer words are what gives the younger woman pause, however - lips parting as if to retort, to say something full of her usual bravado perhaps, before they close up again on such words. Perhaps there -is- something she sees of herself in the headwoman? Lips thinning into a line, "I don't let it…rule me," she admits on looking for love, the words carefully guarded and slow in coming forth. "People have a tendency to say one thing to me, and then…." she pauses, the grimace heavy before she lets it fade away. Her face closing around such emotions, "Maybe it's true," she starts again more forcefully, her intense gaze meeting Indira's, "but it doesn't rule me. Perhaps I was made a bit differently." Words spoken in guardedness, and she lets the uneasiness fade at the last spoken when her bar mentioned. With a lopsided smile, "I won't forget my reason for being here," she drawls in earnest, eyes twinkling at the talk of her bar. "It'll be an ideal place for them. Trust that."

Indira’s mouth twists around a wicked line as low laughter spills out, but she doesn’t elaborate on her wilder days. Attention drawn to the scar Jaya wears all she’ll state is a blandly placed, “We all do wild differently,” a modicum of compassion slipping into her tone for whatever had earned the younger woman that marking. Snorting a softer sound out in response to the tricky topic of love, “Neither do I, darlin’. Ain’t lookin’ for it either.” A frown settles briefly for the grimace when it appears, folding her arms across her chest as a considering look settles onto the other, “No point in letting it rule you, no.” Easy agreement there. Moving now to pack the ingredients used away, the headwoman turns a carefully neutral glance over to the bar owner before turning back to her task, “Ever been around dragonriders after they come in from fighting Thread?”

"I suppose," Jaya allows herself to agree with some degree of disbelief at Indira's initial statement before she drains her glass. "Still. I'm failing to see that wild part of you, Headwoman. Seems like you're a lot like the folks here, y'know?" The glass gets craddled once more, the younger woman watching her clean up as she probes once more. "You weren't lookin' for it, but you found yourself a weyrmate?" gets asked boldly, brows going up at the other woman. Snorting, "How does -that- work?" To the last, a frown settles on dark features at the question given, the bar owner silent a few moments as if she was pondering any hidden meaning in the words. Then, with a half-shrug as she shifts on the stool, "Never had any injured riders coming in the Blood and Bucket," she says evenly, shaking her head. "Not even in Nabol. Kept to the lands rather than the Weyrs, see."

A short round of low laughter before stating through a smirk for appearing to be much like those she surrounds herself with, "Then the ruse is complete isn't it?" Stretching to hook the pan back up again, features are set into an readable expression next, "I was meaning now. Ain't looking for it anymore. Too many complications." Of that she seems quite sure despite her earlier words to Jaya. As to the topic of her deceased weyrmate, dark eyes shift to send a guarded look the other's way before a smile twitches at her mouth and her head shakes off whatever that particular demon had been. "He found -me-. Made it so I had no choice but to say yes," cleverly alluding to the man having been just that charming and dapper in his proposal. Everything packed away again, Indira sets to scrubbing down the surfaces next, tone quiet with past experiences, "It ain't the injured ones you got to worry about, Jaya. It's the ones that come out of it exhausted, scared shitless, and feeling guilty to have survived when wingmates haven't." Ah, the complications of Weyrlife. "They tend to get…" eyes lift to the ceiling as if searching for the appropriate word, "rowdy." Nodding her satisfaction to that word.

Too much said has Jaya leaning forward now, the wine not dulling enough of her senses to miss much of anything rolling off of the headwoman. "You've had….complications," she paraphrases, seeming to tuck that piece of information away for whatever reason as she nods to that. "Interesting that he should find -you- first. Must have been something else. A bastard, you said?" Head shakes at that, the little smile present. While Indira scrubs and talks about the dragonriders in regards to her bar, the words said gets back her frown. Straightening back at the choice of word given, "Rowdy?" she echoes, looking miffed at this. "Like, starting brawls, crashing into my tables-sort of 'rowdy'? 'Cuz I can knock heads with the best of them. Easy." Seems like a simple solution, right? Knock a few heads together and things will be alright. "So long's they don't damage my bar to the point where I'm takin' a huge cost. Then they're gonna have a problem," and the look accompany this statement is a pointed one.

“You don’t get to my age and not have picked up a complication or two along the way, darlin’,” Indira responds relatively easy to that. Counters restored back to their former glory, and with edges of weariness starting to set in, the headwoman simply puts a long look over to Jaya with regards to her weyrmate but foregoes offering any further information. Bar talk however, that will get a short and dry smile as a shrug turns out, “Most are too tired to worry about wasting energy on brawls but there’ll be a few that just…need to work it off.” Now a warning look enters dark eyes, “This isn’t a simple case of men entering into a pissing contest, Jaya. Knocking their heads together would probably just make things worse. More often than not their wingmates will settle whatever dispute arises. Your job?” pointed the look that arrives, “Is to keep the booze flowing and the smiles genuine looking. Any damages that may or may not occur will be covered by the Weyr. But like I said, probably a minimal affair as they’ll then have their wingleaders and or the Weyrleader himself to answer to.” And with that having all been said, the blonde draws herself up to her full height, sets her shoulders square and appears to be making her departure as she notes with a warmer edged smile, “Don’t stay up too late now.”

Jaya sets the empty glass away from herself finally, Indira's response on complications getting a knowing look that lingers. It's a testament that she chooses to stay quiet, even when she is looking far more interested now when the headwoman says nothing further on her past. The bar owner is one that is not easily moved, but for the evening she finally lets the matter drop. Meeting that warning look now at the advice given for her bar and dragonriders, "The booze will flow. Make no mistake on that," she assures Indira in her bland husky alto. "I got this, headwoman." Such confidence for one so young. She says no more on it, content to let the older woman walk out of the kitchen as she takes up the remaining wine in the bottle. Dark eyes lighting on Indira's retreating back at her parting words, there's an unseen smirk and small toast of the bottle before it goes to her lips. "Evening, Indira." And the wine is finished.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License