Logs:Capable and Competant
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| RL Date: 1 August, 2015 |
| Who: Edric, X'vin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edric arrives at the weyr to assist the weyr's new headwoman, and X'vin is happy to be the first to welcome him. |
| Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dee/Mentions, E'dre/Mentions, Erinta/Mentions, Giarnon/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Jenilynn/Mentions, Kresten/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Malcoen/Mentions |
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Fort's enormous Living Cavern is a vast, echoing space, with deep set
windows carved into the outer wall to let in light and fresh air. Large
enough to house the entire human population of the Weyr with plenty of
room to spare, the most common use of the living cavern is as a communal
eating and gathering space. Long tables with benches usually line the main
part of the cavern with a table set aside for the Weyrleaders on a raised
dais, as well as other smaller tables set along the walls for quieter
dining. Tapestries depicting historic moments in the Weyr's history and
scenery from the coverage area decorate the walls and lend the space a
warmer feel than bare stone.
To the east, a large doorway leads out to the Bowl, with a sturdy metal
door that can be closed during inclement weather or Threadfall. The
Nighthearth is tucked away in a little alcove near the door. The large
main hearth is used for cooking and for heat, though chairs are often
pulled up nearby for the Weyr's elderly to enjoy the heat. A swinging door
not far from the hearth leads into the Kitchen that shares the wall behind
the hearth. To the west, a passage opens up into the Weyr's Inner Caverns It's as auspicious a day as any. Late afternoon. Sunny. There are, of course, clouds in the sky - but clouds that, for now, amount to nothing. Edric's arrival is without fanfare - and this is purposeful. He arrives with a matched pair of satchels; suitable for a couple of days, nothing more. At the entrance of the living cavern, he pauses and briefly pinches the bridge of his nose. There's an audible sniff, a perceptible narrowing of his eyes - and then he steps inside with a perfect mask of neutrality in place. There are glances his way; there always are. But those looks are looks of fleeting curiosity, fixed on his glasses or the quality of his clothing and bags. The looks move on and so does he, but only to acquire a glass of water while he gets his bearings. On the whole, it is unlikely that X'vin is waiting for anyone in the living cavern, this late in the day. Too early for supper, too late for lunch, and with very few offerings for the interim, and certainly nothing that he can't find elsewhere. And yet. And yet the bronzerider is there waiting, a stack of hides at his elbow and a pen in hand, with one front and center for his perusal. He's dividing his attention three ways now: the hides, and a greenrider who has stopped to chat with him, dark hair and light eyes with a pretty smile, wearing a Flint knot. It's probably business that keeps him cordial enough, his smile readily given back as he offers answers, but the third division of his attention is the entrance, like he anticipates anything. In the end, when he catches sight of that familiar figure, his head tilts, and he makes haste to conclude his conversation. And doesn't move as the table becomes more private. Surely, that sweep of Edric's bespectacled gaze can't be anything but impassively observant. Yet. A sip of water is taken. Movement is noted. And it's without preamble that he starts to move again, his stride crisp and calculated. Those scattered few in his path are quick to make their way out of it; there's much to say about a tall man who carries himself with purpose. His stride terminates approximately two feet away from X'vin's table - a perfectly suitable distance for polite conversation. One eyebrow lifts subtly, mirroring an equally subtle pull at the opposite corner of his mouth. Edric tips his head, just so, and rests his free hand on the back of the recently vacated chair. "Keeping yourself busy, I see." X'vin's smile spreads like a cheshire cat's, slow and self-satisfied, a stark contrast to Edric's purpose. He gestures at the chair more fully. "You could sit. Nobody would think less of you, and there's not even crumbs in it, Edric." Twitch goes that smile as he represses laughter. Of the paperwork he has a shrug, putting the pen down and pushing both aside so he can fold his hands on the tabletop. "You know how it is. There's always something to be taken care of. Four men or four hundred, there's always paperwork. You could always do it for me," he goads, turning his attention to the bags. A moment's silence follows then a low hum and, "Not staying long, I see." There is no mirrored smile of his own - appearances and all - but it's betrayed in the twinkling of Edric's eyes. Another dip of the head ends in a fluid disengagement of satchels from his person. A kerchief manifests and is swept across the chair as a matter of course before he pockets it and sits, glass of water still in hand. "They wouldn't think a thing of it," he responds mildly. "I just didn't want to interrupt what is clearly important business." A lift of the chin indicates the pile. The offer yields another of those smirking half-smiles of his. "As tempting as the suggestion is... I do have other business here." A beat, then: "Another time, I will be glad to make your Weyrleader wonder at what mystery rider is filling out your paperwork - and making it look exceptional." As for the bags, he gently prods one with a freshly polished shoe. "Mm. For now. I'll be here for half a sevenday. Gone for the other half. Erinta needs help for the next six months. I'm the one she hired to do the job." X'vin would expect nothing less, it seems, and watches Edric's routine with due patience until he's settled in. "They wouldn't of you, no. They've already got plenty to think of me, though, and three-quarters of it is inaccurate." He waves a hand, flippant; so it is. "She's not important business," the bronzerider qualifies, "in the scheme of things. But she might be, later. I haven't decided, yet. Ruatha River." Which should be enough, for both of them right now. "You have some nerve," he laughs then, shaking his head. "My paperworks was perfect when I left. The only thing better about yours is your handwriting." The mention of Lord Ruatha's cousin does darken his expression, giving his smile a cut. "Did she? Is this Lilah's doing, too, or is Erinta truly that out of practice?" The water has served its role and he sets it on the floor, away from paperwork and all else that might be destroyed if it were knocked over. Edric sits forward, elbows on the table and fingers steepled just in front of his face. "Mm. Maybe." There's a faint sniff, his appraisal - ambivalent as it is - being complete. It's on to actual business, then, and it's that laugh that elicits a small, familiar smile from the Steward. "When you left, yes. I shudder to think of what it's become in the time since then." His posture tightens a little at that last, his voice pitched low - and modulated, as it ever is, to carry only to X'vin's ears. "Unimportant," says he of the first and half of the second. "My understanding is that there were... inaccuracies." Which is downright damning in his world. He tsks softly. "I think she's in over her head. Capable - but not entirely competent." "I don't miss that," is all X'vin has for home, or what would have been his work and worth had Besmernyth not found him. There is a certain languidness to his posture that he shakes out abruptly, like a sudden switch has been flipped. His spine lengthens and he straightens, shoulders squaring, chn lowering slightly so he can lean forward to hear, and neither of them need raise their voices. The only remnants of that attitude are in the way he rests his chin in his palm, head canted, considering. It's disarming from afar, undermined only by the intensity of his gaze this close. "She was always very sweet," X'vin remarks absently, like that is an automatic correlation to bad maths and inaccuracies. "Six months, then. I imagine that leaves my father in a pique. Surprised he's agreed to it, honestly. Offering Giarnon, or Jenilynn and Kresten is one thing. Asking for you - whoever is responsible - is another entirely. You're indispensable." That intensity is mutual; magnified, even, considering their proximity. Edric's chin dips and he looks over his spectacles at X'vin to meet his gaze easily. "Is she," isn't even a question; it's a rhetorical observation that reduces the woman in question into an object meant to be scrutinized. A tool. "Six months. The contract is worth it. I wouldn't have accepted if it weren't - nor would your father." A breath is drawn. Held. Exhaled slowly. "I will still do my duties for the Hold as I always have. But. If the situation here is not rectified in six months..." he leaves that to hang, pregnant with problems - and possibilities. "I don't know what the Weyr's financial situation is, but-" he lifts his head and squares his shoulders "-it can't be good." X'vin's eyebrows drop a bit, and when his smile vanishes it's to admit a narrow little frown. "Not to undermine your intelligence, but it doesn't take a Master to figure out that they're down on their luck, and that's being polite. I do think we made it through the winter because some holds tithed extra." He sounds almost sad to confirm it, his index finger drifting up and down his jaw absently. "It might be better," he ventures carefully, "if Erinta isn't fit to hold her position. Fort's in no condition for mistakes." That it's just a suggestion can be confirmed when he shrugs. "It will be some time before leadership here can really be established, and that's providing Lilah can get it together." He has a very long sigh for that particular woman, one that expands his chest and lifts his shoulders. "If she is the one asking favors without me, she may well be out of hand already. Teaching her boundaries is trying to convince a dragon it should eat only vegetables. I'm not sure I can. But until her queen goes up, or Taeliyth," and here another shrug, shallow, that draws him away a bit. "I was attempting to be diplomatic," is a mild correction, but that's where it lies. Edric listens and weighs the words as he tends to, with a pursing of lips and a mild sucking of teeth as he mulls matters over. In the end, it's hardly worth his tensed posture and steepled fingers; his hands slowly drop to the table - still laced - and he leans back just a touch to disengage. "Perhaps they chose more wisely than they thought," he muses. "I'll review the ledgers and see just how pervasive the inaccuracies are." And that's all he can do for now. Any direct opinions he holds on Lilah - or Erinta - are kept in reserve to the surprise of no one. Instead, he slides right onto the next with a notably more conversational tone, "What are the odds on Taeliyth rising first?" Before the question has a moment to settle, he follows it up with a raised eyebrow and a dry: "And do you think she'll even clutch the first time out?" X'vin scoffs at the correction, his nose wrinkling. "Pedant," at least is softened by a touch of what might be fondness, or at least is agreeably needling. While he lets Edric mull his words, X'vin takes to putting his hides back in order. "I'll look into some things, while you're gone. I'd avoid looking too closely into the stores. Pointless, now, with her interrogating even the weyrlings as potential thieves. In a seven, I'm sure I can have enough for you to work with. The caverns women here are not exactly tight-lipped." X'vin's satisfaction in that is plain enough, and when the topics become conversational so does his posture resume it's natural state, less electrified and more inviting. "About the same, I think," he decides after his own silence, "but it's hard to tell. Lilah's assured me that Eliyaveith will rise first, and with how odd she is as a queen I wouldn't doubt she could put her in the sky on command, but nothing's ever sure. They could rise all at once, every queen at Fort, with how close they are now." The last question is waved off at once, "That was a fluke. I've never seen it at Benden, I think...something went wrong there, is all. If Taeliyth is like her mother, that won't make Dee any less weyrwoman if she's first. It'll just be unfortunate." That 'Pedant' bit just earns X'vin a single, knowing chuckle - agreeable, even. While the bronzerider starts to sort his things, Edric does likewise - mostly by taking up that glass of water for a shallow drink before handing it off to a passing server that's been passing by one time too many. Not too close, not yet, but too close for his comfort. "See to that," he intones and the girl blinks once before scurrying off. Back to X'vin, then, as he speaks once more. A thoughtful sound escapes him and he nods, slowly. It goes unspoken: his charms - or lack thereof - would do him no good as far as caverns folk go. "I intend on focusing more on the financials themselves for the next seven or two," is his oblique agreement. It's enough for now. The more important and pressing matter, now, is this flights business and the act of conversation itself; yet, even his attempts at appearing relaxed feel odd and stilted in contrast to X'vin's natural ease. "That would be something," he says with one eyebrow creeping up. "All at once. I couldn't begin to comprehend the tragedy." Or the paperwork - which he doesn't say, but it's not hard to imagine that's exactly what he's thinking. "Mm," is all he can muster for the last, along with a shallow, singular nod. Thoughtful. "An isolated anomaly, but- ah." He stops and gestures abruptly, a curt and dismissive flick of fingers. He pushes his chair back soundlessly and starts to rise. "I'll expect a report by the end of the next seven." X'vin's meaningful look after the serving girl is fleeting, but he's clearly committing her to memory for later, because business has truly started now. His methods of keeping people quiet are decidedly less brutish than many, but until now he's had little reason to engage them. "Most tragic," he agrees at length. "I wonder if Dee would even be able to keep Taeliyth here. She was a nervous wreck, when I finally got around to meeting her." There's a glassing of eyes, three seconds at most, and he relays, "Besmernyth says Taeliyth is not so fragile, but he does understand the importance of a strong rider. He also says it's nice to meet you." There's a dryness to it all, acting as a mouthpiece for that mercurial beast, and it's something X'vin is more than willing to gloss over, even if the tone still lingers when he says, "Sir, yes, sir. I don't even let E'dre talk to me like that. Is this what it's to be? You victimizing me all over again?" But he laughs, and he is not soundless in his own rising. The hides are tucked under one arm. "I'll have it to you before you go, I imagine. You have your work cut out for you." "Interesting." Edric pauses in the process of shouldering his bags again. A purse of lips, a low mmm and his thoughts on that are shelved. Instead: "I will look forward to meeting Besmernyth properly at some point." Everything is, now, as it should be; indifference is firmly in place, bags are settled on his shoulders, posture is rigidly upright. Dryness is noted, as is the gloss; perhaps there will be questions another time. Most likely not. It's X'vin's next words that elicit a barely perceptible lift of his chin. "You don't let me talk to you like anything," he replies crisply - but the words are not as sharp and barbed as they might be with anyone else. Pedantry again. "Besides," he adds as he reaches to briefly clasp the bronzerider's shoulder and leans in closely enough that his words won't fall too far from the other man's ear, "I need you - and you know it. I push because I know what you can do." Pause. "And if E'dre ever talks to you the way that I do..." ... is hopefully a joke of some sort but, with Edric, it can be hard to say. With a glance at the table to make sure nothing is left there - as if Edric would allow something so foolish - X'vin tsks a little, but offers no rebuttal save, "You might come to regret that. Besmernyth can be...unsettling." Not, it stands, unlike Edric. He sobers for the rest though, as is his wont with certain people and certain circumstances. "I know," he replies. "And I can't do it without you, either. You know I appreciate it. If you need anything --" he starts, then barks a laugh. "E'dre is a brownrider, for all he wears that heavy knot, for now. Someone will take it from him, soon enough. Enjoy your stay, Edric. Send one of those little winged messengers up if you need anything. I've got better wine than you'll find in the Fountain, if you want it." And with that, he turns for the Nighthearth in the wake of that greenrider he'd been speaking with, his intentions unclear. As regards Besmernyth, there is but a shallow nod and a mild, "We shall see." And the same is mostly true of the rest - a slow, deep nod this time, with Edric's indifferent expression marred by a slight furrowing of his brows. Thoughtful. Intense. It breaks only at that laugh, a half-smile cracking through; whether at the information or the offer for need, it's ambiguous - and ultimately immaterial. He peels away from X'vin and adjusts the straps and the hang of his bags. "I'll hold my bets on that for now. It seems anything goes here." Half-joking. Half not. "If you're offering, I may take you up on it." And he will, later. While the bronzerider ventures off to tend to his own business, the visiting Steward slips off into the bowels of the weyr to seek out his temporary quarters and settle in. There is work to be done. |
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