Amerie comes out of her hole now that it's spring - like a groundhog, but better-looking and way better dressed. She stumbles across M'try at the lakeshore and offers belated congratulations.
Amerie meets Nakasha in the commons and they discuss being pregnant, being women, and dresses.
( Glad my misfortune makes for your good fortune. )
Amerie finds Fiorella's back by meeting her in the workrooms, chatting crafts and the werylings with the healer and T'rev.
( I am sure your dignity survived. I am not sure mine could take such a blow. )
At Fort Hold, Amerie might look a little J-Lo for turnover, but she's working, people.
( All I have is scissors, no pitchforks. )
In the crafter's workrooms, Amerie is currently bad at being subtle and Maitrey gives her a hard time. Clearly, all she can do is find a way to irritate him in return. It's a gift. The weaver again advocates thievery against thievery, because that will help!
( I want to go somewhere with lots of fabric and take it. Basically. )
Two hot Weavers in the baths, soap suds, and... supplies. Sorry boys! (Stole log and summary from Kaida!)
( Plausible deniability might be best, in case it causes political issues. )
( I don't believe in fairy tales. )
A more-easily-annoyed-than-usual Amerie tells off a smith in the workrooms, running into Maitrey. They go for a walk, talk supplies, candidacy, and the weaver gives up a little information, both personal and political. (I woke up stupid late and the log was there for stealing. I think you'd do the same.)
( Do you not forgive and forget? )
In the workrooms, Amerie and Kaida sort repurposed clothing and talk about what the journeyman has found out.
( They don't just disappear. )
Amerie is in the commons when W'ton comes through in the midst of moving; she ruins the fun of gossips. T'rev happens in, and things get tense - then after Win leaves, discussion turns to emotion and things are a little odd.
( I thank you kindly for your endorsement. Referral is the soul of commerce. )
Day 17, month 11, turn 20 of Interval 10.
I cannot put it better than: Hattie and Amerie do not kill each other. In the Records Room.
(I stole the log too, as
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
beyourownguide is like the wind.)( Perhaps neither of us are easy to get along with. )
Amerie makes her obligatory trip to the galleries to see the eggs; witnesses awkwardness between Genefra, Atreyan, Maitrey and Xhonya; puts forth several paranoid theories regarding Atreyan; discusses relative likability.
( He's always very well-dressed, though. )
Amerie is found at the Fort Hold gather by Maitrey for a dance. She actually assents, maybe has a good time. Maybe not, as she was not struck by lightning afterward.
( You call it pestering. I call it convincing. )
Amerie visits Weavercraft and Ebeny splatters her boots with mud! No one dies, and she actually shows the greenrider to her destination.
( Your deference is certainly appreciated. )
Amerie wraps up her casing of Weavercraft by impersonating an investigator, and interrogating one very new and very nervous clerk (NPCed by Kaida). She finds out some very useful and interesting information.
( You won't like who they send next time. )
Amerie is working in the commons when Kaida comes in to kick back. They chat about the gather, and Amerie might just decide to take matters in her own two hands. (Stolen log from Kaida!)
( I have no intention of skulking about, I intend to take what I have asked for and what I - and the crafters here - need. )
Amerie goes to the Fort Hold Gather to show off her newest experiment, and it's safe to say it's a hit. Maitrey tries to restore an agreement she considers broken, and T'rev doesn't hit on her, which she's pretty pleased with. She also makes the acquaintance of Jiella, who might be making her a lot a lot of money. (I also stole this log, in case you might not have noticed.)
( Almost like a gold dragon, very apt. )
Rendering fat, suede boots, totally inappropriate political discussions, some attempts at human decency, a conscience and extortionist, and a series of high pitched barks. Amerie shouldn't go for lunch.
( I was raised by wolves. My name is a series of high pitched barks. )
