Logs:Dangers to Guard Against
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| RL Date: 10 October, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Gallagher |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two guards-for-life talk shop and other things. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 13, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Wind and snow make for very bad weather today. The visibility is low, making travel dangerous. |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Aughan/Mentions, Farkos/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Rone/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, Suireh/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. The poor weather today makes the galleries an appealing haven, for those brave enough to weather the bowl to get here. The numbers are not as great as some might suspect. The galleries are far from empty, but the people scattered around are fewer, and mostly weyrfolk. Most of the refugees who're often found sitting and watching aren't to be found today. Gallagher is helping a pair of aunties get settled to do their knitting, situating the baskets just so and the seat cushions for their aching joints. Once done, he's able to escape to the rail. Of course the aunties understand him wanting to look at the eggs, and surely it's not that he doesn't want to listen to their stories about old Uncle Farkos for the umpteentrillionth time. Alida too has been frequenting the Galleries more, both for warmth and for a more business-like reason: seeing over those eggs in one fashion or another. This time, she's just finishing a four hour 'watching' stint of her own, the blonde now relieved by another trusted female - a brownrider from Hailstorm - the pair of women quietly exchanging reports, information, and maybe even a hint of 'gossip.' And when they're done, little Miss Sunshine (not) directs her unhurried steps towards the guard-cum-candidate just beginning to flee the bevvy of old aunties down there, a small half-smirk of dark humor touching one side of her mouth. Aware of the bluerider's path from a subtle glance, the candidate doesn't stop until he reaches the rail and leans against it. Gallagher waits for her boots falls to draw near enough for him to suppose she's within a relatively easy earshot before addressing her, twisting just enough to see her. "Rider Alida. All quiet?" He queries of her guard shift. She takes up a position about three feet away from him at the same railing, greens flicking over to give Gallagher a quick assessment before they drift over eggs and their parents down there on the torrid Sands. "Alida'll do in informal circumstances..." the blonde murmurs casually, then nodding to her contemporary. After some moments for thought, her clipped, hard, low alto inquires, "Found the weakest, strongest points in this place, yet?" A faint touch of professionalism touches her otherwise mellow voice, a finger stabbed out to the hatching grounds at-large to emphasize exactly what she's speaking of. "As you like." He consents for the name without title. His dark blue gaze floats out across the sands and then he slowly turns to face the galleries, hands staying at his sides. "Strongest and weakest," Gallagher shrugs. "Does seem like it's got an awful lot of challenges if someone really wanted to make a move against it. Guess that's what makes it fortunate that the army's in Nabol, for the time being, and that Rone hasn't taken it into his head to add dragons to his arsenal." She enjoys his polite but direct manner, Alida watching Iesaryth's snoozing self as her ears and other senses take in the man beside her...the bluie bobbing her braided head once to Gallagher's assertions. As for Nabol, Rone... "Boll's weakest, right now...and there's the renegade riders with no love uv' Weyrs." Apparently she's been thinking about these various 'incidents,' too. "But Rone's not looking to Boll." The point is simply made. Gallagher goes on, however, with, "Renegade riders, however, present more of a problem than their ground-bound counterparts. You might ask N'rov a thing or two about it. The Fortians have had more direct encounters." And thereby more intel, he doesn't need to say aloud. "Is that why your guarding? Boll and the rebel riders?" "Do tell..." the rider/guard inquires, looking over at Gallagher for a few moments before returning her gaze to the blackest of the eggs out there. Her words aren't sarcastic or snarky for once, merely those of someone looking for further information. As for those hidden renegades, "Fort's too touchy, yet. Even I don' wanna create some fuckin' inter-Weyr gaffe." What with N'rov being clutchdaddy, word of Hattie visiting Aishani and all. Her poker face doesn't alter one notch as the woman hunches over - elbows lightly set to stone support before them - then murmurs, "Seems like too much uv Pern's gone at least a little nuts, uv' late. Best take no chances." "As I understand it, the current goals of his army have to do with getting his own house in order." House, territory, whatever. "Some part of which probably has to do with getting support from the Weyr their beholden to." A finger indicates, this one. "If you haven't noticed, Rone doesn't seem to be too keen on playing nice to get what he wants." None of what Gallagher says isn't common knowledge, but it's knit together with a guard's mind and it's natural instinct for trouble. "He didn't seem too touchy about it, if you've got any tact." He turns to face the rider and asks directly, "Do you?" "Makes sense..." Alida notes casually of Rone's apparent reasons for doing what he does right now, the woman slowly pushing up from elbows to rest her palms atop the railing, now. A roll of eyes and a wrinkle of nose at the air before her shows a hint of irritation at the candidate's bit of cheekiness, though she moves beyond that in order to better hear and digest Gal's further words, a faint snert offered upon warm air to those words about N'rov, tact. "Brave enough ta' breach that touchy subject already, eh?" She might sound just a bit approving, if it wasn't for the wicked hint of a smirk again touching one side of her mouth. "Just enough ta' get by. I don't rely on charmin' smiles." Her small emphasis on the pronoun might be a little zinger, but again, the woman doesn't linger on such things, instead looking over to the Cromese native and inquiring, "What's yer specialty?" If he has one in the Guard. "Well, N'rov's from Boll and Fort both. Seemed like the next logical question." It definitely had nothing to do with Gallagher's particular interests in the various threats ongoing on Pern. "Charming smiles have their uses, though I didn't have need of them with the clutchsire. He's even buying the drinks," Amusement pulls a smirk onto the candidate's lips. Yep, that's how good he is. He'll get the info he wants and not have to pay for the drinks. "I had several. Spent a lot of turns with the guard, and they do like to see we're well trained. I haven't had to do much of this," His fingers flick toward the woman who took over the guarding shift on her patrol, "In the past few turns." "Bold..." Alida notes dryly of Gallagher's approach of N'rov, the woman then suddenly cackling mostly-softly at the man's words of charm and the clutchsire. "And after the drinks, the urgent sex. I'd better tell Aishani." Her ears, eyes are keen on him, by now, and the bluie can't help but noticing the subtleties about him, finally inquiring pointedly, "Freelancer, these days?" In their parlance: mercenary. "Not especially. He was very forthcoming without a lot of encouragement." The Crom man replies to the dryness with simplicity. Gallagher's lips do purse slightly, but no comment is made on sex, urgent or otherwise. "No. One of Aughan's own. Though I've been known to do a few odd jobs if the cause or the cost is right and doesn't conflict with my loyalties." "Well...that's new..." Alida notes around a faint puff of breath onto the air when the candidate speaks of N'rov's openness. After a moment of observance of Gal's reaction to her darkly humored needling, the blonde makes a voiceless 'Ahh' and nodding when he volunteers his 'status.' "Makes me wonder how Aughan an' yer Captain took it when ya' decided ta honor Search. Usually leadership's not happy givin' up those with as much trainin', Turns as us." Behind her casualness, a subtle hint of darkness might just be heard. "So's he. To here, anyway. Not that I'm saying he's an open book. But who is once they've grown enough to have a little sense?" Gallagher turns back toward the eggs now, letting his gaze drift. "They probably expected it would happen an awful lot sooner. Being weyrbred and all. Besides, I've earned enough esteem to warrant one whimsical, as they see it, choice in life. They expect I'll be back soon enough. And who's going to say no to a Wingleader and her dragon so soon after the Weyrleader was injured in our territory? Too sticky a fuss to make over just one guard." A small bob of braided head is Alida's acknowledgement to Gal's first words, the blonde then calling up a slender smile to his second observance. "I hear it happens sometimes... a kid uv' two rider parents never Impressin'. Must balance out those times when those with no appreciable 'rider blood innem' wind up with a lifemate." Like her, apparently. After a moment more of looking out to that pinkish egg... "Will you?" As for 'Reaches' former Weyrleader, "Maybe. You 'n others lookin' inta' that, I take it? Anyone else?" "Happens all the time. Even some who are groomed to Impress. Take Suireh, for example. Satiet's daughter. She was groomed for gold, and Stood. And Stood. And now she's a Harper, I hear." Gallagher answers, citing a local example. "Only the eggs can say if that's how it'll be. Suppose I get a choice after the fact if there's no great bronze beast waiting for me out there. Might be a choice I'll deal with when it comes up. Sometimes doing too much 'what-if'-ing doesn't lead to anything but troubled sleep." The man's lips curl in a smile that hold some humor and breaks just free of a smirk. "I'm not looking into it, personally. It's not my case. But it is being investigated, of course. It's above my pay grade, things involving Weyrleaders." "Yeah..." Alida murmurs of the Harper, her features quiet, eyes hooded slightly as she thinks back to what the two of them spoke of in regards to Impression...and lack of such. "No accountin' for hatchling tastes..." She's still vaguely surprised to have been picked at all. When the 'active' guard speaks of bronzes, the woman can't help but wrinkle her nose and then laugh softly in nearly the same breath, then comment low, "Most bronzers I've encountered 'r not worth their feed...just ego, crazy, 'n trouble balled up inta' one." A more candid study of the man beside her finally ends in a quietly thoughtful, "If some sad sack uv' a hatchling mows y'down, picks ya'... brown, I'd say, first pick." A sudden gleeful flash lights her eyes. "Either that, 'r green, since yer obviously so sweet on N'rov." Grin. If he doesn't freak out on her in some fashion, she continues (after quieting), "Indeed. Overthinkin's ta be as avoided as under-." And then Z'ian's 'case' is taking precedence again, the woman mulling over his answer, then giving a faint sigh as she returns her gaze to those eggs. "Suppose ya' couldn't answer anyway, even if y'were on the case." "Then I can be the first to wrap competency in with all that other stuff." Gallagher's dryness in delivery can only mean this is a joke. "Brown wouldn't do me any good. How do I get the ego-maniac crazies out of power with a brown?" He shakes his head slightly. "I can understand green though. I mean, I'm obviously such a ladies' man. N'rov's questionable tastes notwithstanding." A simple nod confirms that there'd be matters he couldn't discuss if he were on Z'ian's case. For the first time in her barely over pair of Turns stint in the Weyr...Alida offers a facepalm of open humor, the woman then laughing into it when Gallagher speaks of greens and himself. The sound of such basic, uncomplicated humor from her is rare, and oddly joyful. And then it stops, and the blonde looks over to her companion again, suddenly appearing about 5 Turns younger in that moment. Her voice is at odds with her look, however. "Now I c'n see why ya' get what ya want outta' folks so easy." Beat. "Yer dangerous." And not in the usual way one associated with Guards. "But I'm onta' ya'." Sagenod, smirk. "Am I?" The look Gallagher gives Alida is intentionally disarming, a subtle charm that curls his lips in a smile and tilts his head just a touch toward her. "Well, then. Maybe I ought to get while the gettings good, so you can give chase. Wouldn't do to leave you without a challenge to keep you occupied." He assumes, and for all that he says the words, he doesn't move from the rail, though his eyes do return to the eggs. "Quit that shit..." the blonde lips off around a broad smirk to Gallagher's lip-curling charm. "I said I'm onta ya." At his words of chase, her nostrils flare slightly, the bluerider then grinning so broadly as to show nearly every even tooth in her head. "Ohh man; you are dangerous... offerin' me one uv' my favorite past-times." The chase...maybe even the capture. A low 'tsk'ing sound emerges from her lips soon after. "Not nice, teasin' the guard." The instruction prompts a touch more amusement from the man before he schools his expression. "Look," Gallagher glances at her out of the corner of his eye, "If I didn't tease the guard, think how dull my teen turns would've been." With nothing but guards, guards, and more guards all around him. "Granted..." Alida responds casually after Gal's done, the woman then pushing her remaining palm off of the railing, and moving to close and do up her jacket once again. "Since ya' already got N'rov buyin' you a round some time in the future, I'll say you need ta buy me a drink before those eggs pop." "Oh yeah?" Gallagher twists to half-face the guard and his smile comes more genuinely than before. "I make it a point to try to buy as few of my own drinks as possible," Which might explain how N'rov came to be agreeing to buy him some, "But I suspect we can work something out. Sometime, before-" That's when his name is called by one of the elderly women he's 'assisting'. His head jerks toward her to acknowledge, "-hatching. Duty calls." His glance toward the aunties where the one is preparing a very silly looking hat that she's looking to fit on him. "Oh, what I do for this Weyr." He groans softly through a pleasant smile that's donned as he moves back toward the women. "I'm just that special..." Alida notes dryly of him buying her a drink, the woman then smirking darkly and shaking her head at Gallagher's closing lament. "You brought it on yerself. Not a thimbleful'uh pity will y'get from me," she comments around an airy sigh before wiggling fingers in the candidate's direction, and pacing off towards the exit, herself. |
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