Logs:Arrangements and Opportunities
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| RL Date: 31 May, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, C'wlin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani and C'wlin discuss pirates, arrangements made, and opportunities to come. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 12, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: High winds whip through the bowl and whistle up the walls around the spires. |
| Mentions: Telavi/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. Winter's breath breathes down the veritable weyr's neck with a vengeance, curling and winding icy air through all the nooks and crannies. Weyrfolk and riders seek refuge within the depths of the weyr's caverns, crowding the living caverns and Snowasis. The nighthearth is relatively free of such a crush, tucked away as it is, the tiny bubble of space is a refuge for those seeking quiet. C'wlin is one such quiet-seeker, tucked away in the furthest corner with a glass of what can only be mulled wine. The spices linger like a cloud of delicious aromatic scent around where he's staked out his spot. Icy blue eyes are drawn to the flames of the hearthfire. A refuge for those seeking quiet and warmth both, as the hearth is blazing and tucked away from the chill winds that whip around the bowl and up to the spires. Though not too many people have ventured this far into the caverns yet, there's a brisk step that heralds Aishani's arrival, the Weyrwoman apparently set to do some sort of work with mug in one hand and folder in the other, jacket still on despite being indoors. Her sharp, dark gaze surveys the space as she enters, spotting the light-haired weyrling way off in his corner, probably noting the scent. She offers a little wave with her hidework as she approaches. Deep Thoughts. That appears to be what C'wlin is mired in when Aishani arrives, though her arrival is noted with the lift of his glass, tipped slightly in her direction. "Weyrwoman," he greets, but doesn't move from his comfortable position as it is entirely possible that she could be a great chair thief. Never know! "Ready for the winter?" he quietly inquires, tipping the glass back to sip. Attire consists of leathers -- not particularly nice nor bad -- and a jacket that's slung over the arm of his comfortable, plush chair. Were an instrument to be in play, he'd look right at home as the nighthearth's traveling harper. Never mind Athimeroth, who is quite happy to make his presence known on the tallest of the seven spires, winds or no winds! Aishani doesn't seem to require everyone to rise upon her entrance or anything so dramatic, so she's not too concerned with the bronzerider remaining comfortably seated; she merely tilts her mug his way - likely with less aromatic contents - then takes a drink as she takes a nearby chair. "C'wlin." It might not be as comfortable as his, but she practically perches on the edge of it, sitting tall, crossing long legs. It's apparently not too cold for short skirts, just too cold for bare legs, as she's shifted to colorful tights to match her outfits. Folder in her lap, "Not really. The Weyr is, yes, but I'm hardly looking forward to it. How about you?" Iesaryth's not atop the spires, but is taking in the wind atop the rim of the bowl, watching the traffic with interest... perhaps keeping an eye on Athimeroth when he's not looking. "Ehhhh. I'm not looking forward to the cold," C'wlin comments, "But it does make one appreciate the warm, winter drinks all the more." He watches her with the interest of one person watching another get settled. "I'm hoping that the weyr I chose will keep the cold out on the ledge." Hesitation comes by way of another sip, "Is that how it works? Are weyrs colder than the craft quarters or resident barracks?" The brandy glass is twirled, allowing the mulled deliciousness to catch the light. His other hand twitches, but other than that, he seems pretty relaxed. "I heard about the pirates..." Beat. "... Interesting business, that." Fishing? Maybe! Dryly, "According to the locals--" Which Aishani's still not really, not technically, "I should be used to it by this winter. But I doubt it. The wind makes such a difference, I find. The air." It doesn't take much for her to settle, though she keeps her jacket, with its big fur collar, on for now. "It depends on the weyr, really. Mine is near enough the hatching caverns that it's warm on its own most of the time, and the curtain keeps out a good deal of the draft. Some have a better angle than others, I'm told." Holding her mug between her hands to warn them, she arches a brow C'wlin's way for the question. Faintly amused, "Is 'interesting' your informed opinion on the whole thing?" "The air really does make a difference. The cold brings such dryness to the air, which leads to such chapping." C'wlin frowns, twirling his glass. "I'm not really used to the extreme cold, and didn't think I would be here for a whole 'nother winter," cue a slight sardonic smile angled to the Weyrwoman, "But I hope the weyr I have is one of the lucky ones." It's probably good to keep an eye on Athimeroth; he's a dragon with the not-always-successful-plans. For now, he's content to be on top of the (his) world. "Informed? Hardly. I, sadly, was not there in the flesh, but I have gathered what accountings I successfully pinned people down for." The harper-weyrling eyes the Weyrwoman. "I've not heard much, other than that there were pirates and that Jhorinth took out a ship." A little wrinkle of her nose for the information, but Aishani notes, "I spend time in the greenhouse so I don't completely dry out. If that helps at all. And there's always going South, yes? Soon enough." After a sip from her mug, she lifts it C'wlin's way, adding, "I hope so as well. And that certainly sounds informed to me, for not being there." There's a flash of a grin, before, "I wasn't there either. We stayed at the Hold to coordinate there, but it appears they were pirates, yes. Have you heard much about them before, in the past or present?" Since he might have been in a position to hear such rumors. "Well, I've done some research," C'wlin says with a sharp little smile, some red coming to touch on the apples of his cheeks from the mulled wine. "I've heard the pirates are being held in the Hold and that no one really knows -- or at least are divulging to weyrlings -- what the pirates motives were." Brows lift before he shrugs. "Other than that, that's all I know. That and the drums were used and almost everyone was looking for me." Now that is amusement right there. "Telavi and I have come to an arrangement where I will teach her what I've learned of drums, messages, and how to send them." Quirking her lips a touch, "Do you think that the pirates' motives would be the general topic of discussion if they were known? And I was wondering more... if you'd heard of any pirates in the past. Anything of the like in the annals of Harper history." If Aishani's tone is loftily mocking, it's at least gently so, done with a smile. "Yes, you might have been useful. I have some interest in the... sequence of events. And do you." It's less a question than an observation, fine brow arched as she regards the former Harper. "What sort of an arrangement, may I ask? And what a fascinating hobby to take up." "It depends on what their motives are." C'wlin pauses, hovering on the knife's edge of how to take that lofty mocking, "Assuming that they even are pirates and not men who proclaim piracy as a way to distraction. That's why I, personally, would like to know their motives. Alas." He shrugs, turning his eyes away from the Weyrwoman for another sip. "I've read of some mention of men who's behavior might include that of piracy, but nothing so baldly stated as definitively calling a group of shipmen pirates." Attention settls back on Aishani, "So I can't say, but as an apprentice I am sure that I did not get to read anything of true value, either." Glass is tipped in her direction, "The sequence of events is just as curiously interesting as the motives. But, Telavi is going to adjust my wardrobe in payment for me teaching her the drum messaging." She considers for a long moment before allowing, "The Hold seems to believe them pirates, though I am not certain they have completed questioning." Aishani's mouth purses in something of a displeased, sour moue after that, not saying much - but clearly unhappy about something to do with the prisoners down at the Hold. There's a little laugh for C'wlin's answer, and she has to ask, dark eyes bright, "When would a Harper ever definitively call a practitioner of piracy a pirate? But fair enough. I wonder how the Hall might respond to requests for such information now?" An arch of brows - brows that lift higher at his last. "Really. That's quite an exchange. She must be the best seamstress in the Weyr, to trade such specialized craft knowledge for simply... adjusting your wardrobe." Beat. "Unless you mean that in some other way." "Fair enough. The Harpercraft so rarely definitively calls anyone anything." C'wlin's better at masking the surge of curious attention, so that his reaction is merely to raise his eyes once more to the Weyrwoman from where they'd drifted to the nighthearth. "Are they?" He considers her expression, but leaves that topic for the moment. "I'm not going to teach her everything. Just enough, as it never hurts to have someone indebted to you to watch your back later." Glass is raised. "Drums are a lot more useful than clothing that fits, and no matter what may come in the future, it's something that can be... reminded of later. It's the gift that keeps on giving." The look given is one of mild challenge at her innuendo. "That is the only way I meant." "So difficult to commit," Aishani sighs melodramatically, seeming entertained. "When there's always the potential of having to backtrack." Tilting back her mug and apparently finishing it, she puts it aside on a nearby table, shifting thee folder in her lap. There's only a slight grin for the challenging look, and she gives an easy shrug C'wlin's way. "One never knows, especially when someone's... not opposed, shall we say. But favors owed are always preferable, yes. Your forethought is admirable." And she does seem sincere about that, before adding, "Making sure your clothes fit is rather important; on your stipend, it'll be an issue, sadly. Not a bad offer on her part, but surely a low-ball. I wonder what else she had up her sleeve." "Mmmmhmmmm." C'wlin's mute agreement is one that goes with her melodramatic sigh, very well socialized to the harper's way of noncommitment. "I suppose, but sexual favors is not something I'm going to trade for craft knowledge. That's far too low-class." Which gives just a flavor of Crom's hold-upbringing to the conversation. However, the bronzerider drains his glass and stands. "I, too, wonder. Considering she asked me about drums before the pirates came about as an issue. So we'll see where it takes me." He pauses, fingers holding the glass by it's rim as he considers the goldrider. "If I happen to hear anything else about the pirates, I'll let you know." A smile twitches on thin lips, "I'll even let you know if they end up not calling themselves pirates." An attempt at a joke, though the humor is dry and the delivery dead-pan. "I've a potential opportunity to learn more, but it might not pan out so well. But I'd better pry Athimeroth off the weyr and get back to my duties. The Weyrlingmasters don't like tardiness, nor do our wingleaders." "It is a little... something, isn't it? Gauche. Tacky. My apologies." For thinking the bronzerider was - well. Some mere bronzerider, instead of C'wlin, who is clearly totally different. Aishani tilts her head to one side, curious at his note on Telavi, filing that away for later. "Interesting. I'm sure you'll find out something in the process. At the very least, it would have been handy in your absence." It has the goldrider thoughtful even so, even as she nods about the pirates, flashes a grin. "I would appreciate any information you might come across." The opportunity seems to have her curious as well, but she doesn't ask. "Good luck. With Athimeroth and the weyrlingmasters both. Iesaryth says it doesn't look like he's coming down." Though the gold might give him a little poke. Apparently, he's on the clock. "Exactly." C'wlin's confidence makes him think he's not like anyone else. "Of course he's not. A poke would be welcome," exasperation's in his tone, but it's more rote exasperation, used to the bronze and his antics. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again," he tips a salute to the Weyrwoman, offers a smile, before slipping out. It's a good thing Iesaryth is there to prod Athimeroth down, or else E'sren and Telavi might have had to use their stick! |
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