Logs:Dragons with Mustaches
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| RL Date: 13 October, 2014 |
| Who: K'zin, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys and her informal assistant have a chat. Disclaimer: no dragons were defaced in the making of this scene. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Sasha/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, V'ros/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated to before turnover. |
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| Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there. What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable.
It's been a big week, with the younger class of weyrlings beginning to move out into their weyrs, leaving the barracks even quieter - and probably exactly the way Quinlys likes them. She's been busy in the office for much of the afternoon, no doubt catching up on paperwork and preparing lesson-plans that won't mind the inevitable distractions of turn's end. Now, though, the door opens - quietly, very quietly - and she leans up against the jam, eyes tracking across the barracks and towards the painting bronzerider. "I always wanted to paint a mustache on that dragon, when I was a weyrling," she notes. "I've no idea why. Something to liven up all the anatomy." Hi. Quinlys should count herself lucky that a moustache doesn't streak the wall as K'zin jumps at the sound of her voice. "Faranth's five foundlings," he swears his surprise, though not loudly. The bronzerider looks to the bluerider and takes a few even breaths before even daring to look back at the wall and see if there's been damage done before replying. "If you like, I can always make the addition now. It'd be almost official." Almost, since he's not really sanctioned to be doing this to begin with, although it doesn't seem like he's making any additions. "I wonder how long it would take anyone to notice," muses Quinlys, which is not, for the record, permission, though at least she sounds amused by the prospect. "Both sets of weyrlings are old enough not to pay much attention anymore, it seems, and who knows how long it'll be before the next group comes through." She stays where she is, leaning idly up against that door frame. "You enjoy the painting?" "Well, you know someone like V'ros would walk through and notice and open his mouth right away," because awkward people don't know when to shut up. K'zin rolls his eyes as he makes the suggestion, not that his paintbrush is making move toward that dragon... yet. "Yeah. Seemed like it could use a touch up." Not that sanding clean and re-painting necessarily counts as 'touch up' so much as 'do over.' "Thought it might give me some inspiration for the wall behind my table in my weyr. Still don't know what to paint there. Don't really want to pay another cartographer to come in and help get another map of Pern to scale." And what's the point of an approximate map? "You enjoying the silence?" That the lack of weyrlings allows. The generous curve of Quinlys' mouth twitches at mention of V'ros, her head inclining forward: she'll concede the point. "The silence, yes. It'll be better still once they've all graduated-- months away, I know-- and of course then it'll be too quiet and I'll get impatient all over again." Is it possible to be both smug and self-effacing? The weyrlingmaster aims for it, regardless. Changing the subject: "How are you finding everything?" K'zin's smile for Quinlys' confession keeps his lips pressed together, the corners angled up and his dimples only threatening to come out. "Well, I still can't find the stash of buckle rags Tela swears is in here somewhere..." This is the sort of thing that might be entirely serious since K'zin is too often a bronzerider of very little brain, and he delivers the answer well, but then his dimples are making themselves known. He knows he's not always the sharpest blade in the forge, and now he makes it a joke before saying more seriously. "I like it. It's easier, here, than in Telgar. For-- oh, probably a lot of reasons. It's easier when you're not afraid to create an inter-weyr incident by telling the wrong weyrling who knows someone to do something differently. Easier when it's more or less the way I was trained. Easier to work under--" his eyes flick to Quinlys and he forces the dimples into hiding though the ghost of the smile remains. He doesn't say hot, so he earns well behaved bronzerider points right there, obviously. "-someone who'd be perfect, if her dragon didn't have such a thing for my girlfriend's dragon," and probably if his girlfriend didn't have such a thing for that blue's rider. "Same whiskey again next time I'm an idiot?" He thinks to ask. K'zin's getting very good at peace offerings. There's another twitch from Quinlys' mouth for that first remark, as if she (and Tela) know some great Weyrlingmasterly Secret that they're not yet giving up. Nor does her smugness much abate as the bronzerider continues-- if anything, she looks more smug than ever, which really must mean truly epic levels of smug. "Same kind," she confirms. "Though I'm sure we'll all prefer to avoid the whiskey, if at all possible. If it's all the same to you. I like you better when I'm not tempted to throw whiskey bottles against the wall. It's such a waste." "And I like you better when I'm not earning opportunities to give you whiskey." K'zin answers back, though his focus is carefully on the wall in front of him as he takes his paint brush and carefully begins recreating what was scrubbed away. "I'm working on it." He says it earnestly. He's really trying. "But hey, I found out Tela had been weyrmated to--" he clearly pauses to rethink his wording, "a woman in Benden who told me to take care of her like she'd be getting her back someday, and I didn't do anything that would require gifts of whiskey." He adds darkly, "Not that anyone could get me to give peace offerings to a woman like that." Is he telling Tela's secrets? Oops. "Really, I'm growing. As a person." He offers to Quinlys with a smile that's attempting to muster. Blink. Blink blink. Blink. Quinlys gives K'zin what can only be called a side-eye, though she's actually without words to accompany it, at least for a few seconds. "Well, she sounds like a great catch," she says, sarcastic. "But you're right. You are. Clearly. Good for you. Good to know that even you won't remain teenage-stupid forever." She at least doesn't sound wholly serious for that remark. "The best," K'zin enthuses with more bitter sentiment than humor. "Thought she might've told you about all that, but.." He stops frowning; if she didn't, he probably shouldn't be either. "Well, anyway, if bronzeriders didn't eventually grow up, where would we get any weyrleaders worth their salt. Not-" he pauses with amusement that's truer than it was for the ex-weyrmate, though not wholly without some degree of cynicism, "-that we'll ever need any other bronzerider to lead us. So I guess we all get free passes?" Or something. His brows rise, looking rather innocently to his former weyrlingmaster. Quinlys could push for more information about this former weyrmate, but evidently chooses not to; she purses her lips together (it's briefly very nearly duck-face), and then shrugs, blue eyes narrowing in on the rest of what the bronzerider has to say. "What, you don't think K'del'll ever lose his knot. Never die? Me, I'd be ready for anything, in your shoes. Anyway, who's to say you won't end up catching some foreign senior, eh?" And... getting out of Quinlys' hair for good? Surely not. "And leave you?" K'zin feigns shock, voicing aloud that which goes unsaid from the bluerider. "Quinlys, no." Just no. He sounds practically tortured by the very idea. Then his smile breaks. "Ras caught some foreign junior and look how that played out. I think we'll stick to 'Reaches as much as possible from now on." Not that Ras chasing in a Telgar greenflight while he was clutchsire at Fort and crashing was in any way Isyath's fault, but perhaps it speaks to his experiences in Fort prior to the Incident. "As for K'del... Well, that knot seems to have a way of finding its way back to his shoulder like it likes it there, you know?" There's a little more real amusement for that. "Besides, if Ras caught Hraedhyth, I might be murdered myself before I'd had a seven in office. I hear," his voice pitches low in a conspiratorial manner, "the weyrleader's weyr is cursed." He probably hears this sort of thing from the youngest of the weyrlings studying their local history, but hey, points for listening and not ignoring them, right? "You wouldn't catch me sleeping in that weyr," is Quinlys' opinion on the subject, though her shudder is definitely exaggerated. Plus, there's that grin, and it's hard to ignore that. "Does seem like we're stuck with K'del for the moment, though, I'll grant you that. Anyway, you're probably more use here than as a sire, based on your last performance. So. You know. Good." "I don't know," K'zin gives it a moment's deep thought, "I think I'd pay good marks to see K'del's face when he walked in to find his weyrlingmaster asleep in his bed." Who knows what could happen. "I'd bet you could gather your things and be on your way before he thought to take your knot or anything," not that he actually thinks K'del would. "I'd rather be here than being a sire. I'd rather be your yes-man than yes-man to the whims of some bronzerider whose dragon happens to have screwed the senior queen," because isn't it a great way to choose leadership anyway? "Maybe," points out Quinlys, "It isn't sleeping I'd be doing in there." Except that, alas, K'del is not inclined towards such things these days... and also, Quinlys is probably not inclined towards him. She stretches, rolling back her shoulders as she adjusts her stance within the doorway. "I'd rather you weren't anyone's yes-man, as it happens. You're allowed to have opinions, K'zin... just as long as you do what I tell you to after I've considered your opinion." Beat. "Anyway, I'm done for the night. You'll close up when you're done?" "Whatever tickles your pickle, Q." K'zin can look amused for that. After all, Tela's naughty bits aren't anywhere in the equation of Quinlys plus K'del. (He hopes. He so, so hopes.) "It's not that I don't have opinions, it's just that..." The artist seems to consider the painting he's doing, "I'm still learning, so it's better to mimic for now, I'd think. If there's something important or if I one day have a brilliant idea," the wry tone jokes that it could happen, "I'll say something." Evidently, he's planning on making helping out a habit? "I'll get it." The closing up. He's done it enough times now to know how she likes it. As interesting as a Q + T + K sandwich (of the 'del' variety rather than the 'zin') might be... no, Quinlys' expression is merely amused, if shading more towards serious as the bronzerider continues. "Good," she says, approving. "You learn. We'll see where we are, once there's another clutch to consider. Have a good night, K'zin." She's off! |
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