Logs:Can't Buy Trust
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| RL Date: 10 May, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Faryn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A weyrling and a herder discuss popular opinion. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
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| Gray clouds streak the sky outside, while the weather remains chilly and damp, but inside the living cavern, the proximity to the kitchens and the warm bodies occupying the cavernous space makes its exceedingly toasty. It's here, amongst other riders - though not those of her own status - that Farideh's retreated, from the barracks. She's sitting at one of the smaller, well-worn tables, bundled up in a couple layers, with her short hair pulled back in a half-ponytail, and looks to be examining a short pile of papers, whilst chewing on the end of her pen. No one else has taken it upon themselves to take advantage of the other vacant chairs at her table; not that she would notice, as absent-minded as she appears, with her brows furrowed in thought. Faryn should probably be more wary of an almost empty table in a crowded cavern at suppertime, but it doesn't seem to have crossed her mind to be. Her days of being wary of Farideh passed long before she became a goldrider, and it's persisted even now. In fact, the way the herder arrives, sliding her plate onto the table and slipping into a chair, it's almost like she's been waiting for the right time to swoop upon her. She examines the younger girl for a moment, tiny wrinkles of concern on her forehead when she's not immediately noticed. "Every time I see you, I can't help but think you're working too hard." And when - if? - Farideh looks up, she'll get a jaunty little wave and an almost perky, "Welcome back." Studying is important, hard business, and that's surely what has the short-haired brunette so deeply enthralled by whatever literature she has her hands on. It's almost visible, how her thought process is interrupted by Faryn's words, but she only flicks her eyes up from the text, lips pursed. "I'm not as well-read as I always thought I was," Farideh supplies, with a tiny wrinkle of her nose. "There is a large amount of information to take in and I've been out of the learning mindset for far too long. It doesn't help that there's plenty of distractions--" Her mouth barely curves, and she sets her elbows on the table, chin framed by the backs of her hands. "How have you been?" If Farideh's fishing for an apology or for Faryn to excuse herself, what she gets is a shrug and the reasoning, "All work and no play. You said something like that when we first met, didn't you?" Faryn cranes her neck slightly, all the better to try and catch a peek of what that literature is, even if it's not her business. It's a brief attempt, then she's leaning back, plucking a potato from her plate with her fingers and popping it in her mouth, ever lady-like. "I'm fine." She sounds like she means it. "Better for time to think, alone. Without interruption." She's wry with that, cutting Farideh a sly look. "That was before all of this. It's easy to say when you have no aspirations for responsibility, no ambitions for anything grander than what you have. I would still say that-- if I could. You should find more time to enjoy yourself, though," Farideh advises, almost wistfully. Verdigris eyes drop to the plate and those potato-plucking-fingers, but eventually end up right back on the herder's face, considering. "What are you thinking about, without interruption, these days?" she wants to know, real casual like. Faryn begs to differ. "You always wanted something grander. That was why you Stood. You just didn't know what you'd get -- that it would be this grand. Or this much work, or this tiring. I'm sorry you didn't expect it." There's a harsh bark of laughter for her advice, not at her but because, "Look at you, wise now beyond your years, dishing out advice." She's tickled enough to keep snickering for a minute, shaking her head. "Staying here, mostly. And, having more fun, if you can believe it. Not walking the tables - not yet. Polis is pissed." "No," Farideh says, with resolve. "The life of a rider is hardly grand. I can think of many who live it simply, or simpler than I could ever imagine. I didn't expect it to be--" She sighs, barely audible, and remains with her thoughtful eyes focused on the other young woman. "You might yet Impress. There are many clutches to come. Fort's got one on the sands now, and you could say yes to them. I'm just saying-- you've no doubt seen the lot of us, you can see what it's done. Take the chance to enjoy yourself now, or if you're set on not trying again, you could go off to be a snooty crafter with little thought beyond your doodads and hobnobs-- but you should still enjoy yourself now, before then." Of the pissed off crafter, or her lack of a fancy knot, Farideh has nothing to say; not a scrap of advice. "Roszadyth doesn't make anything simple. A dimglow can see that. She can be the most peaceable creature on Pern and still, the color of her hide makes her a chore. We're lucky. The weyr is lucky, that you're taking this seriously. There's been plenty of doubt." The herder makes no room to coddle her companion's feelings. "I doubted it. You were so...." She waves that off, slightly. "I'm enjoying myself. I was at a gather the other day," even if her grimace of recollection says she maybe had a little less fun than should be anticipated. I'm not going to Fort. I'm just not leaving the Reaches yet. And if I'm Searched again, we'll see." There's a pregnant pause, Faryn resting her chin in her hands and looking Farideh in the eyes. "Are you at least happy? Do you enjoy yourself with her?" "No," is a sigh, more than an actual word. "It's not anyone's place to doubt, no matter how I am, no matter what kind of temper I have, when someone like Irianke is here to train me, and as loath as I am to admit it-- K'del has his experience too." Farideh's focus shifts, briefly, to set aside her pen, and lean back, stretching her arms down and behind her chair. "Did you? Which?" She seems genuinely interested, as her eyes come back to rest on the herder with casual inquisitiveness. It's that final question that has her expression pulling, sliding into something caught between impassiveness and weariness. "I enjoy Roszadyth immensely, but we would have such an easier time of it if her hide was green. I don't, can't, just give her all of my attention, not when there's so much expectation." Faryn prods at her food, picks another potato, supplies, "Ista," without elaborating. A frown has taken her expression since Farideh's first statement, and she looks displeased."It is our place to doubt, when you might be leading this weyr and everyone in it. It's luck, good or bad, that she's a gold and not a green, not any sort of natural talent. It's what I kept hearing, too. It's luck, if one of them wants you or not. You can't prepare, you can't make yourself better or hamstring yourself. It's the same for whether Roszadyth rises before Niahvth. Like it or not, you have a lot to prove to so many people than just Irianke and K'del and the other weyrlings. You have to prove it to people you don't give a second glance to, people you haven't met yet. Plenty of people still wonder about Irianke's loyalty, and K'del isn't beyond criticism either, even if it's quieter." Where Farideh is impassive, Faryn is not; she's keenly watching her expressions, marking what pulls her attentions, and the herder gentles slightly for the next. "That should change when she gets older, right? When she can fly and feed herself and is...not so much attached to you?" "Ista always has lovely entertainment," Farideh notes, idly, before her expression alters to something a bit more serious, for the lecture. "Is it? Do you doubt everyone, then? The cooks for making your food palatable? The Headwoman for properly rationing said food and ensuring you've clothes, bedding, and the like, when you need it? What about Lord Devaki or Lady Edeline? That they see to their end of the tithes?" She has a thin smile, as she straightens and meticulously readjusts the hides she's got piled in front of her. "It isn't your job to doubt. It's the weyrleaders' job to doubt. Nothing was ever righted, because some weyrfolk didn't have faith in their leaders. Whereas, when K'del saw a lack of fortitude in Tiriana's behavior, he brought it to the attention of the right people, not the weyrfolk, or some self-elected council to gripe and worry." Her smile wanes, then. "It's hard enough accepting, and shouldering the burdens, before you add an audience of dissatisfied, distrusting weyrfolk to the list." There's a short pause, her face briefly relaxing from that held tension. "You misunderstand. I would rather be with Roszadyth than in meetings and pouring over records. I wish I could attend to her every whim myself." "Not everyone," Faryn says plainly. "Just those who haven't proven they can lead. Trust isn't something you buy with a gold dragon, as much as you might like to think it so. That we are stuck with it is a fact. That we have to like it, that we have to trust it, isn't. And it's easier to lead a group of people who have faith that they won't suffer for the decisions made for them, out of their control. People can rise up, Farideh. You should remember that. It is not wise, even less with dragons in the mix, but they can. You're still only human. History shows how well that works out." Despite the issued warning, Faryn is smiling too, a satisfied sort of 'cat who caught the canary' smile that even manages to reach her eyes. "You'll get it in hand, though. Especially when you stop telling people what they have the right to feel and start persuading them instead. For what it's worth, I trust you." Her expression twitches back into sympathy, then, for everything. "I'm sorry. I never thought that anyone would Impress and not get enough of their dragon. Maybe," she considers, her tone not entirely serious, "they'll let you have an assistant, like Irianke does." It goes about as well as one might expect: Farideh's face screws up in anger and then, simply smooths out again. "How lovely that you seem to have the whole equation solved. Maybe you should become Weyrwoman, instead," is less heated, but strong, and then the weyrling is gathering her things. "I don't need an assistant." With everything in her hands, she stands and gives Faryn a severe stare, but the herder shouldn't wait for a farewell or departing remark; she simply turns and walks away, leaving behind any ruffled feelings and unpleasant words. "Oh, Faranth, I barely want the responsibility of the stables," Faryn rejoins, still smiling at her. "The more I think about it, seeing you all suffer, the more hesitant I grow to Stand again." She marks the tonal shift, the control in the younger woman's face and voice with a hum that might be approval, even after she's told off. "You've almost got it. Almost. You'll no doubt have it by graduation." While Farideh gathers her stuff, Faryn takes up her fork, apparently planning on staying. There's barely a dent in her supper, after all. Even so, she's willing to say, "Have a good night. Don't work yourself too hard." |
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