Logs:Changes on the Horizon
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| RL Date: 13 March, 2016 |
| Who: Quint, Alysce |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quint and Alysce have a pleasant conversation about the future. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 4, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, Ryneton/Mentions |
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| It's nearing the end of dinner, the noise of which is subsiding into quieter chatter as most of the weyrfolk depart for other locales. Still, it's not exactly the best place for concentration, and yet Quint has staked out a table, the half-eaten remnants of a meal rapidly cooling, while he bends over a hide in attentive focus. Alysce is late for dinner, that much is clear. Probably that is why she is flirting with one of the young bakers who is currently putting away food; or well, he was until she apparently convinced him to stop and make a plate up for her instead. With a tunic of harper blue hanging overly large on her slight frame, she also wears a flirtatious smile as she chats away with the baker, though she seems to forget about him soon enough once he's handed over the plate and she's turned away from the serving table. Instead, her gaze catches on Quint and he is the one who gets her full attention as she crosses the cavern to claim the chair opposite from him with a greeting of: "So, I just heard that the Weyrlingmaster had a baby. Do you know her?" Despite the Journeyman's apparent non-attention, the first thing Quint says to his apprentice, in lieu of answering her, is: "I imagine I ought to be impressed that you are putting your skills to use, even if it's in service of your stomach rather than the craft." "I would think you'd have learned by now that everything I do is in service to me," Alysce counters back easily and without a hint of shame for the statement. She's shameless, if you will, just as the smile on her lips turns into a slow smirk as she tears a piece of bread to slide into her mouth. Quint's finger drops to the hide, as if to mark his place, while his gaze flickers up towards Alysce. "Not to me?" he asks, with a tilt of head, nothing light about the question. That question only receives the wrinkle of Alysce's nose, an exaggerated gesture for Quint's benefit before she tosses black hair over her shoulder. "You know, if you ever wanted me to do anything for you, you just have to ask," she finally answers dismissively. The dismissive response earns a neutral one in turn, Quint's gaze dropping back to his hide. "Surely you've been with me long enough to know my mind, that I needn't?" He's silent for a moment or two. "I'll be writing a recommendation that Ryneton be posted under another Journeyman shortly; one who can better coach his vocal abilities." Surprise widens Alysce's eyes, her brows dragging up as her gaze only sharpens on Quint at that information. And then she's frowning, her words a snap as she questions, almost accusingly, "Why?" Quint's tone, by contrast, remains unchanged, his gaze unwavering from the hide in front of him. "Because he is better served with a Journeyman who can best bring forth his talents." "And why have you decided this now, Quint?" Alysce presses in question, a tone of disbelief making her words dry as she stares across the table at her Journeyman. "Are you going to try to send me away next? I'm sure you'll have a good excuse. I've been an apprentice too long, I should focus on making my next rank. Or, well. You tell me." "He's been with me for a turn and a half. Long enough for me to impart what wisdom I can bestow on him." Once more, Quint presses a finger to the hide as if momentarily pausing his focus to lift his gaze to Alysce. He's silent for a moment after she speaks. As is his way, he doesn't answer, not directly, but with a question of his own: "How long have you been with me, Alysce?" Alysce doesn't answer that question; no, there's a soft huff and another toss of her hair as she meets Quint's gaze. Instead, she replies accusingly, "And you're doing this now. And I do know you well enough to know your mind, Quint, and I think you're scared of losing anyone else. So you're going to try to send us away." Even if Alysce doesn't answer that, Quint does it for her: "Near enough to two Turns as to make no difference," he muses. His head tips, exhaling a breath. "And you lash out at the slightest threat," he murmurs, near inaudible. "But no, I'm not sending you away. With Ryneton gone you'll need to step up in your duties." The Journeyman's gaze settles on his apprentices. "I'll expect more of you." "You could always send for the Hall to replace him with another apprentice. I am sure they will be eager enough to give you someone else to train," Alysce suggests instead, and despite his assurances for not sending her away, the young woman hasn't quite relaxed. She still holds her spine straight, almost as if ready to meet a challenge. "But I have been your only apprentice before; I know what you'll need me to do." "Perhaps I will," Quint allows, after a tapping of fingers against the hide. "There were several promising promotions at Turnover." He gives a nod, and a glimmer of a smile at that last. "Perhaps you do." He carefully begins to stack the hides, with the reverence given to precious material. "I'll need to you travel to the Hall in the next seven or so -- deliver my request regarding Ryneton -- and meet discreetly with some of the senior apprentices. It can't hurt to have a sense of what we may end up with, no?" If this is already a test, Alysce might get a low grade, because her first reaction is to wince in dread at that request. Her fingers resume tearing at bread, but with a new enthusiasm before she finally drags out, "Fine. Though, I think your defintion of discreet and my definition of discreet are probably going to be different, you know." Sharp blue eyes certainly don't miss that wince, though there's no sense of satisfaction from Quint at it. "As long as you don't blurt out, 'My Journeyman wishes to know if you and I can get along without tearing each other's hair out', I should think it sufficiently discrete enough. I can't imagine I am the only Journeyman -- or Master -- inquiring." A beat, and then: "We all must do things we abhor in the name of our craft, now and then, whether it's facing a pack of ambitious teenagers, or," with a tilt of his head, "Chancing the possibility of running into our parents." Alysce pointedly tears a piece of her bread at Quint's words, but she only glances up at him with a slightly petulant look as she says, "I said I would do it. I will. But I don't give a runnershit about the craft, Quint, just to be clear. I am doing it for you. Because I do use my skills for you, too." That seems to come with a more challenging tip of her chin again, as she adds, "Besides, you're the one who is going to have to deal with my parents after I tell them that I am nowhere near ready to test for Journeyman." Quint is silent again, longer this time, as he studies his apprentice. There's definitely flickers of reactions as she speaks, passing swiftly enough to be difficult to identify, and ending in an exhale of breath. He gives a nod, as if unsurprised -- and unworried, too. "Indeed I will," of her parents and his impending discussion. "That I look forward to," he says with a blandness that might, oddly, be truthful. Her nose wrinkles again in response to Quint's reaction, but Alysce doesn't press the conversation further. Instead, as she finally takes another bite of her meal, she reverts back to her original question to ask with a definite tone of gossip, "So, do you know her? They are saying that it's a good thing it will be a while until there are weyrlings again, but there is talk about what she'll be like with the next group--." Quint gives a wordless nod by way of answer, though instead of asking further about the gossip, he says: "I'm more curious about your interest. She isn't the first -- nor the last -- dragonrider to give birth. Or is there a specific reason you're interested in the Weyrlingmaster?" "It might matter, to the next group of weyrlings," Alysce answers lightly, almost teasing in that answer as she flashes a smile at Quint. But then she seems to catch herself on a thought, a softly apologetic expression sliding briefly through her features before she rolls a shoulder. "I don't care beyond what I've heard. I was just curious. And there's been a sad lack of gossip lately; the Weyr is never as interesting as the rest of Pern makes it seem." "That is the way of all things," Quint says, easily. "After you return from the Hall, you'll join me on a round of Journeying through some of the nearer holdings after we reshuffle the teaching roster. It's time we did some more advanced training in gossip -- how it is used, and how it can be abused. The Weyr is central to many things, but the effect of a lone gossip passing through a remote hold can never be underestimated. Like you," with a twitch of lips, "Those that are isolated find interest in even the smallest tidbit." "Yay, staying in small rooms in remote holds where everyone is married to their cousin," enthuses Alysce dryly for that, though there is a hint of smile on her lips, buried there for some reason. "Just how I wanted to spend the warm months." Quint makes a noise that might be disapproval, though it isn't voiced aloud. "Perhaps the lack of amenities will give you a greater appreciation for what you have here. Be thankful that it will be the warmer months. The path to Ogren requires some nights under the stars." "And if I suggest getting a ride via dragonback, you are going to lecture me about it, aren't you," isn't really a question as Alysce waves her fork in a vague gesturing circle before taking another bite of her meal. "If you flit in on a dragon, what will you talk to the local farmers about? How nice their lands looked from above?" Quint, apparently, takes her rhetorical question as requiring a not-so-rhetorical lecture. "Or, having traveled through their lands, will you have an understanding of the hardships and successes they've had this past Turn? Sympathy -- empathy -- is worth a thousand words of prose." "And who is going to have sympathy for having to sleep on the ground or my feet?" Alysce tosses back shamelessly but without real effort, much like she knows she is already fighting a losing battle. Or not really fighting it at all. "The very holders who will give up their own beds for you to sleep in," Quint says, without a pause, though with a knowing grin, now. He begins to collect his dishes, carefully tucking the hides under his arm. "First things first. Pack for at least three days at the Hall, mm? I'll arrange a ride for you." Lightly, cockily, Alysce assures her Journeyman with a smirk, "I can get my own ride to the Hall, you know." Again, there's a little hair flip as she meets Quint's gaze with humored black eyes. "Nevertheless," Quint replies, in a tone that might -- for him -- be sharp, along with a look to make sure he has his apprentice's agreement. "I'll arrange it." "Fine, whatever you say. Three days, and then you want me back?" Alysce questions, seeking confirmation. "Or if it takes longer--?" "Then I've taught you poorly, and we shall both wear the consequences," her Journeyman replies with a tone that might well be amused. Pushing to his feet, Quint carries his dishes with him as he begins to step away. "Good evening, apprentice," the formal address given easily in the company of the Weyr's residents. A low laugh catches in Alysce's throat as she lifts her gaze under the fan of lashes, sliding up to still meet Quint's as she remains seated with her meal. "I will have a good night, but I hope you do too, Quint," is the way she choose to phrase her own, less formal goodbye. |
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