Logs:A Gift for Quinlys
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| RL Date: 4 November, 2015 |
| Who: C'ris, Dahlia |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two very nice strangers who care about other people do some gift-hunting for Quinlys at Igen's gather. |
| Where: Igen Hold |
| When: Day 7, Month 3, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear, breezy days mark the Igen spring time. A few days of rain brighten up even the desert before the onslaught of summer. The temperature rises rapidly toward the end of spring, though the nights remain cool and pleasant. |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions |
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>---< Igen Hold(#1276RJ) >---------------------------------------------------<
The road to Igen Hold The Hold's cliff rises high above the courtyard, its
impassive stone face studded with Threadfall shutters thrown wide,
surmounted by the fireheights where the Hold's banners snap in the wind.
Along the wide, well-traversed road to Igen Hold, a traders' encampment
lies near the banks of Igen River.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
C'ris M 28 5'9 trim, brown hair, brown eyes 1m
Dahlia F 18 5'9" sturdy, dk. brown hair, hazel eyes 0s Spring in Igen is much more appealing than winter in High Reaches, so the number of High Reachian dragons dotting the Hold's cliffs is likely not surprising. Many dragonriders are where one would expect to find them as dusk gathers, amongst those drinking and dancing. Yet, in the thinning population that still browse the closing stalls, there is one dragonrider giving an undue amount of attention to an artist's carved stones. They vary in shape and size, some large enough to flank the entrance of a door while others are small enough to be strung onto a necklace, with colors drawn from natural and cheaper stones. They are dragons, felines, runners, and tunnelsnakes, and one that C'ris is considering is a canine that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand, carved from quartz. Igen's weather is better than Fort's this time of the turn, too, and not only that but it's far enough away that once Fort's junior has left her dragon, it's possible for Dee to dissolve into the crowd, stow her knot and by and large not be given away by her face alone. Her dress is modest, well-fitted, but not up to snuff with the current fashion trends. That doesn't seem to bother the teen as she moves through the thinning patrons. She might be content to say nothing, having smiles aplenty to express her appreciation of the carvings as she steps to examine some of the smaller ones. It might be the way the quartz hits the light that draws her hazel gaze to it. "That's a lovely stone," might be for C'ris or the stall's keeper, but, "What's the carving of?" is certainly for the bluerider as she steps closer to venture a look for herself. C'ris wears his knot and his leathers, the wingrider doing little to hide himself, but then, by the color of thread and loop of knots-- There is no need to, is there? No one's giving him that much attention for it. He doesn't notice Dee right away, as intent as he is, but as soon as she speaks she gets the attention of warm brown eyes. It takes him a moment to realize the question was for him, and then he's quick to explain eagerly, "Oh, it's a, you know, canine. Do you want to--? I'm not sure if I am going to get it." A pause, before he adds for the perfect stranger, "I really should get something for Quinlys, for letting my pup live in the barracks. But it feels a bit too on the nose, don't you think?" Dahlia's brows lift a little at the explanation, lips pulling to a wide smile. "No," is certain, but gentled by the, "thank you," which seems genuine for the offer. "I just wanted to peek. I'm afraid if I touch anything in here, I might break it," even with things being made of rock. There's a helpless lift of her hands that might say 'and then where would I be?' "Is Quinlys your girlfriend?" is queried, but with the curiosity that comes with trying to answer a question. "She's letting you keep the pup in the-- barracks?" She's putting it together. Or trying to. C'ris flushes slightly at the question, exhaling a breath that might be a laugh even as he corrects simply, "No, uh. No. She's our Weyrlingmaster. At High Reaches, so she's in charge of the weyrling barracks." Despite Dahlia not wanting to take the thing, the bluerider still extends it to her to look at given her answer. "She didn't really want to, but-- I had no where else to put him. So I should get her something she actually likes, but I don't really know what she likes." There is a beat before he considers the goldrider and then asks, "What do women like?" The young woman's smile presses her lips together now, warm amusement in her eyes. "Unfortunately, I think it probably depends on the woman. What do you know about her, on a personal level?" Dee's eyes flick up away from the quartz pup to the bluerider's face and then back, taking her peek as more of an eyeful. "Some women like knickknacks," she nods to the pup, "and some might find it a waste of marks. Hard to say which type the Weyrlingmaster is, never having met her. I've neve actually even been to High Reaches. Do you like it there?" "I know she likes alcohol. I mean-- not that she drinks too much, just that it's something that she likes. But it doesn't seem the proper way to say thank you," C'ris answers, letting a sigh escape before he sets the figure down carefully on the stall and lets out a slow sigh. "I know that I don't know enough about her. To know, you know, what she likes." But he offers a slow smile to Dahlia anyways for her help. "Yeah. I-- I mean, that doesn't seem to do it justice, but it's my home. I was born and raised there. It's beautiful. The spires and the land and the people--." "Mm," the young woman considers. "In the absence of other information, it might be the best recourse if you want to be sure she'll like it." Dahlia concludes, looking around the shop one more time before making a gesture that invites C'ris to accompany her to the next stall down the line. "It's hard to do justice to something you love. I think I always find words wanting where the heart is concerned." It's not a topic she seems inclined to linger on though, instead asking curiously, "So why is your pup in the weyrling barracks if you're a wingrider?" C'ris gives one more sweeping glance over the arrayed carvings, ducking away after a moment to follow Dahlia to the next stall. For all that she gestured invitingly, he must feel somewhat self-conscious about himself, since his fingers lift to scrub through fluffy hair as he agrees, "Yeah, maybe. Or-- Well, maybe I will see something perfect." Her question takes him by surprise, his brown eyes sliding to her again in a quick study. "Oh, well. I mean, I help out with the weyrlings when I have the time. So I'm in the barracks every day. And keeping him up in my weyr would've just been impractical." "Gifts for women are hard," is given in sympathy as her eyes rove around the stall that holds a mixture of perfumes, incense and other aromatics. Dee gives an inquiring lift of a brow to C'ris to see if he wants to stop in the booth. "It's nice that you help with them. I'm sure they appreciate it. I can see how heights and canines might be-- problematic. Pup, you said? Young?" The bluerider does seem to want to stop, and as he does he reaches for one of the perfumes in a cut-glass vial to unstopper it and smell. Still holding it, he offers it out to the young woman to smell as well. "It's-- yeah, the weyrlingmasters appreciate it, I think. But it's a good opportunity for me, too," he answers with a warm smile. "This smells nice. Soft." The casual remark isn't followed up with anything before C'ris is nodding. "He's young. He got himself stuck in some half-frozen mud in the feeding pens and, well, he's not so bright. But he's adorable." The perfume vials are certainly no less breakable than the carved stones so Dee's lean is cautious and her sniff small. There's a smile for the smell and his assessment, a nod agreeing. "It's nice," but not so nice that she's lobbying for its purchase. "That sounds like a lot of men I know," is answer for the description of the puppy, but there's no malice in the remark, only that warm amusement. "So you'll help teach the puppy along with the weyrlings? Do you like the work?" C'ris laughs lightly for her remark, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with it as he admits, "Probably, uh, how people might describe me. Maybe. I don't know." He takes one last smell of the perfume himself before replacing the stopper and putting it back. "I don't think... Soft doesn't make me think of Quinlys." That, apparently, is why she will not get the perfume. But he smiles at Dee. "I like it. Weyrlings are always so-- I mean, it's hard. Impressing a dragon and getting thrust into being a dragonrider, even if you're ready for it. I like being there for them." C'ris' first remark makes Dee's head tilt a bit expression considering but not wholly believing. By the end of his remarks, her nose is wrinkled, and her lips pressed together until she speaks, "I can't imagine someone describing you that way when you seem to care so much about other people. Weyrlings, Weyrlingmaster." She lists the examples. "Unless you only care about them and there's a whole host of people who you don't care about and therefore would describe you that way?" She allows for the possibility, but her brows are lifted in playful challenge. "No, no. I mean, there's people I might not care about that I don't know, I guess? But I find it hard-- not to care. About people." C'ris ducks his head as he admits that, ruffling at his hair again with his free hand as if he suspects that someone might be judging him for that answer. He starts towards the next stall without meeting Dahlia's gaze, considering the wares instead. "But there are, you know, people who probably think that makes me stupid." "Then..." Dahlia trails her thought as she trails the bluerider, "The same could probably be said of me, is probably said of me," she corrects with a wry smile. "If someone wants to think I'm not very bright for choosing to see the best in people, then I'm very okay with that," and not even a little apologetic. "Does she wear things like this?" The young woman seems genuinely invested in this search now, daring to figure a plum colored gauzy scarf in that next stall. C'ris exhales a breath, though he only offers a soft, shared smile to the goldrider for her answer. For her lack of judgement, maybe. "I wouldn't say the same of you," he promises. "Maybe we are the smart ones." A pause, before he remembers to introduce, "I am C'ris, of High Reaches. Blue Mivength's." But as his attention is directed to the scarf, he seems at once relieved and excited. "She does! A lot." It's possible that Dee's timing for moving to slip her arm through C'ris' is wholly coincidental, but it might be calculated to keep him from running away. "I think we are," the smart ones. It's not said arrogantly, but with the quiet pride of belief. Belief in the belief that caring about people isn't only for the stupid. "I'm Dee," she offers simply. "How long have you been a rider, C'ris?" is curious but also a means to continuing the conversation past her name; if she's lucky, he won't even know it. It is likely that C'ris does, but 'Dee', certainly, could be short for any number of names and isn't immediately linked to Fort's weyrwoman Dahlia. So he doesn't even blink over it as he smiles at her for the name, flushing only slightly for their hooked arms. "Almost ten turns now," he answers easily. "It's hard to remember what it was like not being a dragonrider." And, for a distracted moment, he is looking back to the scarf, considering. "How old were you when you Impressed?" the young woman asks curiously. Then at what might seem random, "Does it get very warm for very long in the summers in 'Reaches? That scarf probably isn't very useful if it's not much. Although, with dragons, there's always visiting places like this," Dee offers thoughtful points on the matter of the scarf. "Maybe we should check the next stall? Though this one might be closed by the time we'd double-back to get it if you changed your mind." She frowns slightly at that. "It's probably about that time. For dancing and dinner and all that." "Yeah, and, uh, my wingmates will drag me away if they see me. Though, probably not if they see me with--." C'ris doesn't finish that though, only rolling up his shoulder in a shrug instead. He adds, "I should probably get it now. Do you-- What would you think? Of it. I mean, getting a gift like that, if you liked scarves." Distracted, he doesn't quite remember to answer Dahlia's question about his age. The first prompts a quiet laugh of understanding despite the unfinished thought. Dee looks at the scarf, drawing a deep breath as she considers it. "I- I'm sorry, I really don't know. It's not the sort of thing I'd like, but I gather I'm not much like other women in that respect. She might love it though, if--?" That's the problem though, really. There's too many ifs. She gives the bluerider an apologetic look. "What would you like?" C'ris asks her, curiously. At her apologetic look, however, he only smiles reassuringly. "And, if what?" "If she's a scarf kind of person. Or likes to get dressed up for gathers like this," completes the ifs, though Dee's cheeks take on a slight flush at the question. "Dirt, or wood, maybe a pot for a plant or some nails. That is, if it were a tangible something. Otherwise, I'd be happy with time spent doing, helping, or-- you know, whatever. I guess I'm not really a gift kind of girl all things considered. Actions and words speak louder than gifts, to me." C'ris nods thoughtfully to that, accepting of the young woman's answer without trying to defend. But he murmurs, "I think I'll get it, though. I think she'll like it. And I'll write her a note of thanks, too, and maybe--. I don't know." But, as he starts to draw away to approach the stall keeper, he adds solemnly, sincerely, "Thank you so much for helping me, Dee. I am-- Well, I'm glad I ran into you." "My pleasure," Dee tells the bluerider with sincerity of her own. "I enjoyed meeting you. It's good to know I'm not the only smart person out there." That holds a smile for him, for their shared similarities. "Good luck with it all. I hope she'll like it." Still, even with all that, when the bluerider is finished with his transaction, the young woman is gone. |
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