Logs:Always Harpers
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| RL Date: 13 January, 2014 |
| Who: Edyis, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin encounters Edyis in the records room, wine and books may follow. |
| Where: Records Room |
| When: Day 17, Month 10, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy. |
| Mentions: Jeroman/Mentions, Bristia/Mentions |
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| The stone walls and tapestries don't entirely keep the dank cool air of the autumn evening at bay, and it adds to the musty scent of old books and hides. The room is almost empty save one poor scribe nearly asleep at his post and the assistant records keeper who has claimed one of the open tables for her use. a smudge of blue ink marks her cheek as intently she consults the various volumes stacked about her. A bottle of wine sits within reach, the glass next to it half full of something light and sweet (and well away from the precious books.) A curious energy in the way her quill scratches paper. While R'hin might well still have the foreigner attached to his name, especially amongst the younger generations, it's hard to deny that he's a Wingleader at least for the next Turn or so, and Wingleader means, reports. At least that's what he starts explaining to that poor, sleepy scribe in a low voice that probably doesn't attract attention from the focused records keeper. At least, perhaps not until the bronzerider gets to this line: "Look, do you want me to bring K'del down here and we can chest-bump to demonstrate that it's totally appropriate for me access records on local sweep patterns and wing manoeuvres? Or would you prefer something more... demonstrative?" Whatever's more demonstrative than that is left to the imagination, although there might be a deliberate intonation in his voice as if to indicate something suggestive to that unfortunate scribe. His gaze sweeps past the scribe in a bid for assistance, brows rising in brief surprise: "Edyis?" he recalls, after a tangible pause. Dark eyes are drawn from their study at the protests, and when she recognizes R'hin there is a surprised smile. Drawing herself from the chair, in a very soft sweet tone she points out, "Hesaan, do you really want to be the one to explain to Master Jeroman why you're refusing to let a former Weyrleader of High Reaches access the records room?" Someone has been studying quite a bit since their arrival, as she moves to greet the rider properly. "It is good to see you again R'hin. Do you need help locating something in particular?" She may get a dirty look from the scribe, but she ignores it. If the Nabolese girl's presence is a surprise, her demonstration of knowledge is moreso: there's a quietly impressed sort of chuckle from R'hin. He's quiet for a moment at the exchange, noting the scribe's response, but quickly turns his attention to Edyis as he steps in further, across the threshold. "You've been studying up," he says, in a manner that might be interpreted as statement of fact, but is likely more approving, if the glimmer of pale eyes is anything to go by. "If things haven't changed much..." and there's a dark chuckle here, "Which, you know, Harpers are loathe to disturb established systems, then..." he moves further inside, along the rows of shelves, before making a noise of success and glancing over his shoulder at Edyis with a knowing grin. "Reliable in that regard, if nothing else."That seems to fit well. Hesaan isn't too thrilled, but he mostly just mutters to himself, and is otherwise dismissed by the young woman. "They say knowledge is power, besides what kind of assistant would I be if I didn't strive to know more than my peers." Her reply comes playfully as she wipes the ink from her fingers with her apron. "Indeed I believe they are the ones who first coined the term Hidebound. It is a pleasant surprise to find you in reaches again I must say, Monaco was quite generous to lend you and your wing to us. R'hin starts to lift a hand to run along the records within the shelf, but Edyis' words draw his gaze with a steady, intent look. "Do you realize quite how alike a newly born Harper you sound?" It's obvious he doesn't necessarily mean that as a strict compliment, despite the lighter nature of her response. With a snort for the latter: "Generous. I wouldn't be so quick to leap to use that particular term. You might be closer to the mark to call it an exile rather than a lend. But," with a wave of his hand, as if dismissing the subject, "I'm... surprised, that you chose to stay. I'd have thought you'd have returned to Nabol." He sounds quite like he'd given some thought at all to what the once-met Nabolese had done with her life which, frankly, doesn't seem likely. But he sounds convincing. "Not quite, though I may test for it near turns end." She offers of Harper Hall. "Ah, I should have guessed there was another motive behind it. Monaco and Reaches seem to have something of a tangled history if the records are accurate." She slips over to a cabinet near the entry to the council room, procuring another empty glass, "I could have, but there are far fewer opportunities in Nabol than in the Weyr. Would you like some wine? It's similar to the vintage you introduced me to." "Oh, say it isn't so," R'hin groans, over dramatically, staggering as if wounded by the confession. "It's all over once you become a harper. Wouldn't you rather... I don't know... make your own way in the world?" As if the harper's way somehow prevents that. He gives a noise of acknowledgement, but not encouragement, at the mention of his Weyrs' history. It's the latter offer that earns a genuinely pleased chuckle from the bronzerider, however: "Indeed. And as much as I would like to ask how you secured it, let alone get away with having it in here... there's an old proverb about runners and their mouths that comes to mind." The gesture to the empty glass is clearly assent to her offer. Dimples and laughter both appear in ample supply. "I haven't decided yet. The world is just too full of tantalizing possibilities for me to decide on anything final just yet." She responds, before grinning and moving to fill the second glass. "Indeed, as for having it in here, I manage by being exceedingly careful." Handing off the glass, "I trust your finding the welcome warm despite the weather?" With a long, slow breath of resignation, R'hin is putting on his most wearing expression: "I'm afraid it may be far too late for you. You've clearly been spending too much time with harpers and not enough time with everyone else. You've their tongue about you." He shakes his head sadly, clucking his tongue as he extracts a couple of records from the shelves before stepping closer to the table Edyis has set herself up on. Still, it's hard for him to keep up the charade given the glass that he accepts after setting the records down -- the respect for the documents absent-minded as if long trained habit. He lifts the glass to his nose, breathing deeply, before gaze flickers towards the records keeper as he responds, "I'd say the welcome has been inclement rather than warm. And I'll soon run out of marks to shamelessly buy up good will with rounds of drinks. Have you any suggestions, my aspirant harper?" A curious gleam in those dark eyes, notes perhaps the care given, even if it is only absently. Her own glass is rescued from the table, and she studies the bronzerider thoughtfully. "In my experience there is no quick way to buy good will, it is a slow and painstaking process that requires equal parts truth and deception." The glass lifted to her lips, and she savors a sip. "Perhaps the best place to start is finding like minds and hearts and working out from there?" R'hin finally lifts the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip -- followed by an appreciative nod -- before a low chuckle escapes him. "Well, the latter I have down pat -- but painstaking isn't really my thing," he waves his hand expressively as he sinks into a seat. "Maybe," he begins, but after a considering, intent regard of the Nabol girl, he adds, "But perhaps, instead, it's an opportunity for someone inclined to try out their harpering skills?" the query lingers in the air, a smile on his lips. "Can someone who's seen so much of the world truly be satisfied by harpering alone?" She muses her free hand idly tracing the spine on one of the volumes she'd been studying earlier with muted affection. "Even surrounded by books, I often find myself thinking there should be more." "I don't think so, but -- things change once you've spent time at the hall." Given one of his daughters is a harper, it could be assumed that R'hin is talking about her. But then, perhaps he's not, given he's staring musingly at Edyis. "Can I tell you a secret?" He looks about as if checking where the scribe is, but it's more for show than anything, leaning close and with amusement: "There is. You should give thought to learning a harper's skills but not joining. There'd be plenty of... opportunity for you." He rubs at his chin thoughtfully, as if the idea only just occurs to him: "You should speak to Bristia, one of my riders. I'm sure she'd be happy to give you some... pointers." "I confess the idea of being stuck in the hall and limited to learning one set of skills is not as appealing as enjoying the freedom to pursue others." She confesses in a conspiratorial tone. "Bristia, I will remember to seek her out, was she a student at the Hall before impressing?" She asks, lifting the glass to her lips again. "She is a harper," R'hin corrects, with the implication that one never stops being a harper. He hasn't had nearly as much of the wine as her, and as if reminded at her gesture, takes another appreciative sip. "It does seem rather dull by all accounts. Mm, now that I think about it -- you'd suit the life of a trader well, too. If things at the Weyr don't work out, we'll try that option," he says, as if suddenly the girl's life career is something of significance to him, too. "But, I'm sure Bristia will have her own opinions," he adds, with a dark chuckle, faintly fond tone audible. Edyis chuckles. "Really how did we get from your buying good will, to my becoming a trader? I believe I could learn quite a great deal from you on how to charm strangers. I'm beginning to believe the phrase exile is an exaggeration for the purpose of sympathy." "Exaggerate?" R'hin looks briefly affronted, but the glimmer of amusement in his gaze suggests the true sentiment behind the response: "I'd never attempt that on such an astute young woman. Unless she were willing. But," he barely pauses at the change of topic, "I don't see that good will and traders are dissimilar. Most of what traders sell are trinkets and presents to do exactly that -- buy good will. Don't you think?" A tip of head as if awaiting her verdict, broken only by the gulp from the glass.Amused, she lifts her glass studying it, instead of the rider. "It is the meaning and sincerity behind such a gift that gives value, rather than the trinket itself, I think. So a trader merely provides the shape, while the giver provides the good will." The last of her glass is finished off, and she replaces the cork on the bottle, which is still quite full. "Oh, I was right," R'hin slaps a hand against the table. "You'd make an excellent trader," he says, as if Edyis' very own words have confirmed his suspicion. "But, Bristia first. Trading family second. Best explore all your options, no?" The bronzerider's draining the contents of his glass, giving an approving nod as he sets it down -- presumably for the quality of the wine. Collecting the records he's liberated, he says, "Am I trustworthy enough to be able to return these tomorrow?" he asks, with a knowing sort of grin, awaiting her verdict. A smirk curls the edges of her mouth, "Only if you take the wine bottle with you consider it a token goodwill." And disposal of evidence. "I'll make sure to let Master Jeroman know you've returned and that he has a word with the other scribes. Of course, opinions could change if it comes back even the least bit tarnished." From her tone she consider that to be an issue. That elicits more, genuine laughter from the Savannah bronzerider. "Covering for each other is yet another skill suited to both avenues," R'hin says, approvingly, scooping up the bottle into the protective curve of his arm as he stands. A half-etched bow might be taken as mocking, yet seems just unrehearsed enough to be genuine. "I'll do my best to protect your... word, my lady harper." He strides out without a backward glance -- or a farewell -- but this, too seems par for the course for the man, rather than a reflection of his mood. |
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