Logs:Delegate
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| RL Date: 4 June, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Irianke |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two goldriders enjoy drinks after a long day. There are surprises and prizes! |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 12, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowing. |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Alieva/Mentions, Jounine/Mentions, Drex/Mentions |
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| Outside the weather might be grim -- all gray and snowy -- but the Snowasis is, as usual, a pleasant hub of activity and voices. At the bar, chatting amiably with one of the bartenders, Farideh is waiting on an order, and when it comes, she excuses herself with a gay smile and what might be considered a flirtatious cant of her head. "There," she says merrily, setting down Irianke's drink on the table first, and then her own, before sliding into her side of the booth. It's a change from the usual straight-backed meetings in the council chamber, or the rounds of the lower caverns. "I don't know what this is, but he made it sound nice," as she takes a delicate sip, wide eyes on the woman across the table. Undoubtedly. Irianke's dubious eyes do not agree with the agreeable nod she grants Farideh's drink choice. She, herself, nurses her whisky like the woman she is. "It's been a long day, I know, but hopefully some of how the Weyr lower caverns works makes sense now." A server brings by a plate of deep fried potato sticks, french fries, with bubbling, molten lava cheese melted on top. "It's starting to." Farideh doesn't have the same uncertainty about her drink choice that Irianke does, and happily sips between sentences. "It's-- a lot to learn, and it's different, but I see the similarities to--" She wrinkles her nose at the comparison she's making, with a wry roll of her eyes ceiling-ward. "Running a Hold. Some. Not as fun-- a lot more work." Those potato sticks come by at about the same time the weyrling's stomach gives off a noisy growl. Irianke reaches for one and immediately drops it, her fingers coming to her mouth to suck/cool off. "They're hot," she says in unnecessary warning. Good thing she has a drink. "No, probably not unlike running a Hold. Does it bother you you've run from that life only to find yourself with that life again? However different?" "Hot," is half a sigh, paired with a longing expression for those fries. It's less clear what her feelings are following Irianke's questioning, though the apples of her cheek go rosy. "In the beginning, it did. I love Roszadyth and I wouldn't ever trade her for the world, but-- it's not what I wanted." Farideh seems to understand the futileness of that statement, and blushes a little redder for her naivete. "I've been running from something that-- I guess, I was supposed to do, regardless of what I wanted. One way or the other. At least, I don't have to be married to some old, wrinkly holder too." "There's immense responsibility, but also immense freedom," remarks Irianke, finally reaching again for a fry, and though it's still hot, she gingerly wiggles it out from beneath the mass of melted cheese. "All that would make this better is if there were bacon piled on top." French fries are a happy place no matter the planet. "It took me a while to correlate the two and figure out how best to exercise my freedoms while still performing. Luckily," the goldrider says between breathy bites of that hot fry, "You'll have a turn and change to figure it out before one of us becomes Weyrwoman." "I don't think I've gotten to the freedom part yet," Farideh says, picking a piece of the melted cheese off the top of the fry pile. "The worst part is being stuck, here, in the barracks, in the-- lower caverns. We can fly now, but not far, not until we can between, but even then-- " Her eyebrows pull together, her mouth forming a moue as she pulls out one of the still-hot potato sticks. "You," is a correction, with a level gaze, "when you become Weyrwoman." No doubt, no hesitation -- her mind is set. Irianke shakes her head at the correction, rejecting the absoluteness of Farideh's tone with a sharp shake of her head. But then, she doesn't address it further than that, moving on with, "You'll have weyrs soon and some more freedom and then you'll graduate and we'll work together. Have you thought of what you'd like to do as a weyrwoman when you graduate?" The drink continues to be nursed, while the fries are munched on at an alarming rate, the older woman favoring the potatoes more than the cheese itself. "What I'd like to-- do? I-- do I have a choice?" Farideh looks genuinely bemused by the turn in conversation, though she, also, doesn't have any more remarks on the subject of the impending Weyrwomanhood one of them will face. "It wouldn't be an option to just dance my days away? Drink champagne all day? No?" The huskiness of Irianke's voice finds outlet in the laugh that bubbles at Farideh's words. "Oh, if that were the case, I'd be the first to sign up for it. No. You can do what I did as a junior, have strict working hours and then drink champagne and dance all night for all I care, as long as you are awwake in time for work the next morning." Her mellifluous voice continues, the accent of Igen's deserts minutely heavier now that she's halfway done with her drink, "No, I meant, would you rather work within the Weyr itself, or in outreach with the Holds or even crafts. Do you want to work with the Headwoman predominately or running interference with the wings and riders therein? While K'del," here, there's a subtle look that steals to find Farideh's face, "Manages the fighting and training aspects of the wing, I happen to believe the people of the wings are our responsibility." Farideh doesn't look surprised by the reminder of her duties, even if there's a certain disappointment that flashes in her hazel eyes. "You don't have a preference?" She looks to Irianke for instruction, and manages not to make a face at K'del's name, even with she's quick to shake her head at the suggestion. "I still--" Brief hesitation stops her. "I'm still learning. I'm the most comfortable with Headwoman's work, and I haven't-- though I can't imagine I wouldn't-- the Holds. It's the other side, but it's familiar." Still, she waits for the other goldrider's opinion, for her input on what she's revealed so far. "We'll play it by ear for a while, until you figure out where you feel most comfortable." The demeanor Irianke adopts with this is far more relaxed than her patronage by Nimae would suggest. "In the mean time, I would appreciate it if you could take over parts of organizing our Turnover party. Whether it's a party or a more intimate affair, I'll leave it to you. Excuse me," a server passes by and the goldrider lifts her glass and gestures to Farideh, "We'll have one more each and some napkins? Thank you." An acquiescing nod answers Irianke's words, a seriousness to her expression not there before, but it transforms quickly into the beginnings of excitement. "Turnover? You'd-- you want me to--" Farideh can barely control the enthusiasm in her voice; it shows in the smile that nearly splits her face with its fervor. "I can do that. It will be-- oh, yes. Please." She sits back, slanting a blank glance to the passing server, and only when they've left, does she return her gaze to Irianke. "Do you have any requirements?" "Just don't bleed our coffers or our stores dry. The Headwoman already knows to go to you with discussions on the matter and I believe she's assigned Alieva to be your lower caverns point person to delegate to. And," Irianke starts, humor in her voice though her eyes carry seriousness, "Let's try to keep this shindig drama," and murder, "Free." Beat. "Excited?" The tonal quality of Irianke's voice shifts from semi-business to hopeful and a little bit delighted at the younger woman's reaction. "No. No. We'll need a budget and--" Farideh hasn't got her hands up, to tick things off on her fingers, but it's obvious she's doing some type of calculation in her head. "Only a month," sounds a little dismayed, but she's back with the excitement in the next breath, laughing even as she speaks. "Last year's turnover was-- nothing exciting. I think one of the laundresses sprained her ankle and there was a masquerade." She sets on elbows on the table, features going dreamy. "It will be better, it will be-- Roszadyth's first Turnover, your first Turnover here. It will be memorable." Needless to say, excited. While Farideh calculates, Irianke watches, that, in spite of her outward delight at the younger woman's excitedness, is a calculating look. The smile remains ever present, slightly inebriated, though not overly so since well, she is a ranking member of the Weyr here. "I'm glad you're taking to this. It'll be nice to have something to celebrate at Fort's hatching and the last turn here. I did think of one caveat. Try to make sure I don't clash with anything in this silver confection I've commissioned of the weavers." She could be teasing. "Oh," Farideh replies, looking fleetingly distressed. "That was-- horrible. We talked about that when we were candidates, whether or not dragons went between if they didn't find-- someone, but we thought that they-- always would, find someone, anyone, who worked, if not the one. It--" She spreads her hands, then tucks her in her lap, her mouth pinched. "I'll try. It's High Reaches blue, anyway, and silver always goes with blue," so says Farideh, the fashion police. Noting the distress and seeing it's shortlivedness, Irianke glosses over the tragedy with another sip of her refreshed drink. "I still have to ask K'del to escort me to the other Turnover events. We will be in and out for the evening. It would be a good time to show our face at other Weyrs and at our Holds so they know the situation at High Reaches is stable. I promise," the goldrider adds, a smile hovering about her mouth, "We'll be here for a large majority of the evening." "Ah-- ah." Farideh hardly masks her disappointment, but is placated by the assurances. "You're right. You'll want to put in appearances and-- say your hellos." She traces the sweat droplets on the base of her glass, otherwise seemingly uninterested in drinking her second round. "Isn't it odd that this turn we'll be spending Turnover, here, and not Igen? I've done it, but now we're both here and it's-- everything's different, now. And not that different." She gives her head a little shake. ""'Sometimes I wake up and it feels like a dream, still. That everything was. Roszadyth was, High Reaches, you, here." "Everything...," Irianke starts, her voice trailing off and then breathes audibly. "Everything is different this turn and different does not mean bad. I daresay, even Quinlys might like having me around by Turnover next turn. Do you think that's more likely than pig's flying?" Her tease is light and with that, she finishes off her refresher. "Farideh, don't forget to delegate. I'd like you to enjoy the evening with any special friends you may have." "Are you two getting on better?" is Farideh's amused answer. "I know she can be forward and opinionated, but--" She leaves it there, picking, instead, at the leftover fries that are surely going cold by now. "Delegate? I--" Her blush returns, her eyes averting. "Why? I'm sure he can wait. It's not every day that I get to plan Turnover for the whole Weyr, or that anyone even trusts me to do something the monumental. He'll understand." "It's not every day you'll get to enjoy something of extravagance you've planned as well. Promise to delegate parts of the evening and utilize Alieva as best as you can." Irianke advises, though the glint in her eye is too knowing of just what might happen in a month. "Happy Turnday, Farideh. Enjoy your weyr." She doesn't even say goodbye when she rises, except to wrap her knuckles against the table. This is her parting, all with a sparkle in her blue-gray eyes. "I promise to utilize Alieva," Farideh repeats, dutifully, intoned like a mantra. "Th-- what?" She lifts a hand into the air, where it stays in mid-gesture, and her mouth hangs open, just before she abruptly snaps it shut. "Weyr?" She certainly was expecting it, but perhaps not this soon, not on her turnday, not-- "Oh, shells," her fingers pressing into her lips. Silently, she watches the other goldrider rise, too caught up in her own shock to offer any words of farewell of her own. |
Comments
Edyis (03:00, 5 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
I love these two and their interactions.
Alida (05:47, 5 June 2015 (EDT)) said...
Giving Farideh just what she wants... responsibility she enjoys, and a spacious new weyr. Watch out, Fari; it always comes back to bit you on the ass. ;D
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