Logs:Afternoon Catchup
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| RL Date: 18 September, 2013 |
| Who: K'zin, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia and K'zin get a chance to talk after months of being busy. K'zin has questions an some suggestions. |
| Where: Sheltered Lackside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 11, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, C'wlin/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, Giorda/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, N'hax/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| Sheltered Lakeside Ledge, High Reaches Weyr The far side of the lake gets much less foot traffic - there's less grass, due to the poorer soil, and the bed of the lake is muddy and not at all as nice to walk in. But a small stand of four willow trees with long branches hanging low and swinging in the breeze provides some relief from the sun during the heat of the day. A pair of small curved benches sit underneath the trees. The ground rises up sharply towards the northwest end of the lakeside, and the waterfall that feeds the lake thunders downwards there, foaming the water and creating a fine mist in the air that distorts the light.
Hraedhyth's daily migration is an easy one to plan out since her clutch hatched. Morning with Tsanth or the dragon whose ledge she shared the night prior, perhaps a bath or perhaps a meal, then she's off to guard the weyrlings for a good chunk of the day. Afternoon lessons have her lying nearby, watching is as the young dragons are finally finding their feet. Rasavyth may be a looming bronze hint, or it could be that Azaylia had similar plans in mind, carrying stacks of paper, a small blanket and something to nibble on in a basket. "K'zin." She greets with a warm smile, and rather than ask or fret about bothering him, she looks ready to make her own seperate camp. K'zin's eyes had drifted closed, though he wasn't asleep, since his eyes slide open and he finds the familiar face, "Zay," He greets with a smile that reflects her own warm. Slowly, he shifts, moving to push himself up until he's seated, legs still sprawled out before him. The skin slips from where it had rested against his hip. His hand lifts to re-situate it against his thigh before it gestures to the blanket that's big enough for two. "Care to join me?" He takes in the papers as his gaze trails across her, "Always something to be done, hm?" This, and his own adjustment into riderhood life might explain why they've not seen much of each other but in passing the last many months. K'zin's offer slows Azaylia's preparation, the edge of her blanket hovering an inch or so off the ground. "Of course." Cheerfully, the Weyrwoman adds on to his picnic for one, sitting on her own quilt and setting down the fingerfoods and paperwork. Hands absent-mindedly smooth over her dark dress, legs tucked up beneath the skirt as she takes inventory of K'zin. It has been several months, all of which have done the goldrider some good as she answers eagerly, "Always. It's nice, having so much to do." With little oppertunity for boredom. The basket is strategically placed between them, and there's an inviting glance as she reaches in for a finger sandwich. "And you? Enjoying not-duties?" Beyond that of a regular wingrider. K'zin looks healthy enough. If you don't count the healing split lip or cut off to the side of one of his eyes - though that one looks nearly all the way healed, and a keen eye would catch the slightly yellowed tint of what was surely a black eye almost all the way well. Otherwise, he's the picture of health; he hasn't been slacking on his training and the months and months of rationed stew don't look to have taken too much of a toll. He finds the skin of ale at his hip, picks it up to pull the cap off with his teeth, taking a sip before offering the half-empty thing toward the weyrwoman. "I agree about keeping busy. And I am, mostly." Busy, or possibly enjoying his not-duties. The next doesn't help clarify which he means, "Though sometimes it's nice to just slow down." Like now. Him and the blanket and the autumn sun. "Is it very different for you now that you're confirmed Senior? Do you have to do a lot with the Weyr council that you didn't before?" He's curious, though politely so. The interest is there without any feeling of pushiness. When the skin is offered, Azaylia takes it with a curious sniff to its neck before declining, jugement-free. "Have you had a chance to try the latest batch of cider yet?" Assuming the rush of bitter scent wasn't hiding a fruity note in there somewhere. "It is. Not everything has to be handled right away-- even if I like to." She admits with a trace of playful guilt, all too aware of her workaholic nature. The little sandwich is gone, replaced by a flaky pastry as she reaches for her writing board, "It is. I can... Hraedhyth feels everyone. She always could but it's more. And the Weyr? It's this big... ball of... it's ours." Struggling to express a Senior gold's instinct, she gives up with a soft laugh. "Sometimes there's the occassional letter, but not very often, no." There has yet to be a meeting, despite Fort's not-too-distant troubles. "I had some of the latest hard stuff in Snowasis not long ago. But if you mean the regular stuff, no. I've not tried it." Presumably, from the way he draws another swallow from the skin, K'zin's been quenching his thirst in other ways. He doesn't seem offended by her refusal of the ale, though after one more swallow he caps it and leans it against his thigh. There's a half-smile for her words about liking to get things handled right away. "Sounds like it suits you both." He comments after a thoughtful silence. "That's good. I admit, I worried for your sanity. On principle, not because I didn't think you could handle it." That he's buzzed might be becoming a little more obvious in the careless way that he speaks, but at least it's carelessly open and honest. "Must be strange to feel everyone. Strange to shoulder that kind of responsibility. Strange in a good way, probably." He adds quickly, lest 'strange' be seen as offensive. "Aishani still not being a weyrwoman or helpful or whatever her deal is these days?" Definitely buzzed. "Guess she can't get out of being a clutchmother." Not that the rumors ever suggested she neglected Iesaryth in any way even with her 'Weyrwoman? If you say so,' attitude. There might be a trace of concern, so easily confused with curiosity, as Azaylia glances at the skin. "Oh. It's lovely. Very crisp." Which suits the subtle shift from autumn nights into winter. K'zin's loose tongue inspires a gentle smile, "It isn't like I know what everyone is doing all the time... but it is strange. In a good way." She teases. There's honest surprise at mention of her junior, replaced by a more embarrassed curl of her lips, "Still." With a resigned sigh, "It's become normal now. Expected." Not disruptive to the Weyr and its folk, so there's that. "I've had to ask Giorda to take on a bit more, and there are probably more assistants because of it." For work that doesn't require a Weyrwoman's specific touch, that is. Neutral, surprisingly so, "I guess she can't." Though the smile remains. "I'll make a point to try it, on your recommendation." K'zin answers, of the cider. Though, after a moment of regarding the goldrider he does add, "It would be all the more pleasantly sampled with your company, you know. Haven't wanted to bother you getting settled in and all but--" But she still has his interest, if she wants it. His interest, and in fact the man himself seem relaxed, and he reaches back to lean on his hands, stretching a little. "Shame," is his only comment about Aishani. "Glad to know you've got everything handled in any case. Being Senior seems like the kind of job you'd want to have extra hands to help with. Ever thought about recruiting from somewhere? Another junior, I mean. Not that you need one, obviously," Since everything's flowing fine, "Just to give you a little more time, is all." Surely nothing to do with the bronze up on the diving cliff and his feelings about the golds of 'Reaches. "You know, I still haven't had a chance to really look at the Senior's weyr?" Since they're on the topic of settling in, and the fact that Azaylia still very much isn't. "But, going out for a drink sounds nice. Snowasis, or I'm sure the Hold can get the really good stuff." What with the harvest season and all. The Weyrwoman gives some thought to K'zin's suggestion, sparked by some surprise, "I'd have to wait and see if Iesaryth lays a gold egg." A distinct possibility that has only just dawned on the woman. Her expression is curious, lips twisted up and half-pensive before she looks back at the bronzerider. "It's a thought. I'd want things to be a little more stable for a bit longer. And... well, not a lot of goldriders might be comfortable around Aishani." By reputation alone. "She does have this nasty habit of stabbing people." Okay, maybe just the one that he knows about. K'zin's tone is wry at any rate. "I suppose we can't avoid offering hospitality to that Fortian prettyboy." There's distaste, but it's mild. The kind that indicates a lack of real knowledge of the person he's talking about. "I can see that as being something some would avoid." Then his smile turns charming, maybe even a little overly so, "But they would get to work with you, and I'd see that as a perk." He's not done making the woman the topic either as he shifts to lie back. "No? I guess you and Hrae do sort of have things set up the way you like them. But there might be more space for her trophies in the new one." Something, his tone suggests might be an appeal for at least the queen if not her rider. "I can honestly say the senior's weyr is somewhere in this place I've never actually been." That's thoughtful; clearly an oversight on the weyrbrat's part. "Being stable's good." There's no rush. But now the idea's been said. "I was impressed with the tithes that came in from 'Reaches Hold. You have something to do with that?" Again, curious, but not pushy. Azaylia has a hunch, and whether right or wrong she asks, "Not happy about Iesaryth's flight?" Her delicate voice lifts, playfully, "Pretty boy 'Reachians shouldn't throw stones." It's enough to prompt some guilt as K'zin turns around and compliments her, the Weyrwoman ducking her head some. By way of apology, "If we decide to take it, you're always welcome to visit." As busy as she is, the goldrider manages to have visitors, to talk over klah or tea and the like. "Oh? Not... quite. It really was everyone who behaved during Dev-- Lord Devaki's restrictions. There was time to heal, and for there to be trust again." That's certainly her optimistic take on it. "I can at least take some credit that there isn't a ban anymore." No doubt she's proud, and shy about said pride. "Just punches, right?" K'zin winks. So he's kidding, right? Forget that ghost of a bruise. "Ras isn't. I'm perfectly fine with keeping myself unstabbed and still having all my parts functioning in the morning." And N'rov's a Fortian prettyboy? What's not to dislike? If K'zin's feelings (or more likely his pride) was bruised by her calling him a prettyboy, there's no sign of it. It's possible that as ale-plied and relaxed as he is that he didn't think to take it as a slight, or even a scolding. His expression at Azaylia's description of why the tithe came in full shows that K'zin's outlook is not nearly so positive. This is paired with a quirk of a brow and a question, "Rewarded for 'good behavior', hm?" Something about that distinctly displeases him. "There should never have been a ban to begin with." This might explain the displeasure, "But I'm glad you got it lifted, at any rate." K'zin's wink earns him a warning glance, exaggerated and playful as it is. "Nrov is-- was-- nice. When we spoke." Ages ago, which may have something to do with Azaylia's hesitance in vouching for the Fortian. The Weyrwoman adjusts her board, fishing a stylus out of her ear and counting out tallies, adding the total to the side. It's easy enough, not too distracting, though the bronzerider's negative spin has her aiming a firm look his way. "I suppose you could see it that way." Clearly she doesn't. "There should have never been weyrlings sneaking into the Hold. I didn't like it, but I understood Devaki's reasons." Eyes dropping back down to her work, "Now we can focus on Hold and Weyr working together." "I never said he wasn't nice. I've punched nice people before." K'zin answers, his tone and grin holding humor, even if he knows this is likely to meet with disapproval. He's rolling to his side and then to his knees, pushing himself up onto them, then to his feet. "I never said there should've been weyrlings sneaking into the Hold, or that there shouldn't have been punishment." There might be more to be said there, but K'zin doesn't say more, stretching instead. "Working together is important." He focuses on this instead. "Glad Lord Devaki and you are able to agree on that." He smiles down at the goldrider, then stoops to pick up his coat and ale skin. "Ras says I'm needed." For what or where, he doesn't say, "But we'll go out to the Hold for cider soon?" A hopeful smile this time, "If you can steal a little time away. We could call it a mission of diplomacy. Good public relations for the Weyr." "K'zin." Azaylia clearly doesn't believe him, not until she remembers a certain ex-Weyrleader and looks appropriately startled. "Hm. I guess you have." Before there can be any disapproval, the bronzerider is already gathering himself up and smiling at her. The Weyrwoman can only offer her own, "It was nice talking to you again, K'zin. Next, I'll have to give Rasavyth a good scratching." For old times sake, because her affection for the bronze has hardly waned. Her legs shift, and the woman stretches out along her side in preparation for a long stretch of doing nothing but looking over paperwork. Peeking over her shoulder, "Soon. It sounds like fun-- and it'd be good to support the local bars." A playful addition to his political reasons, before she's turning back to the numbers. "Careful," K'zin warns, his voice sticking to the playful spectrum, "It might have the old effect on me." That was once so embarrassing but by now is just a funny memory. "You'll bring the blanket when we go for drinks?" He nods to the blanket, but doesn't wait for a response, only smiling once more before he starts strolling toward the bowl. |
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