Logs:Duty and Enthusiasm
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| RL Date: 19 August, 2010 |
| Who: Ebeny, Uillean |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The battle of duty and enthusiasm. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 7, Turn 3 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. |
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| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. The lake is unsurprisingly busy on this warm, sunny afternoon, the beach area cluttered with blankets and towels, the water filled with frolickers as well as the more sedate. In none of this groups, clearly delineated, is Uillean, who wanders down the beach fully dressed, having even gone so far as to be shading her fair skin with the iad of a pale blue parasol. The expression on her face is unreadable; her eyes follow those out in the lake, sliding gracefully from one distant figure to another. For a while, Ebeny has been standing close to the edge of the water, allowing the world to pass her by without so much as a twitch for nearby splashes or the occasional child or three tearing along the beach at a distance so close as to be noticed. With all her attention fixed on the dark green dragon sitting someway off in the water - numbering among the more sedate, for, save for the flick of her tail, the green barely moves at all - it's not long before she doesn't get out of somebody's way fast enough and has to right one of those children, who bounces back as young people do, leaving the rider time to notice Uillean, nod, and offer over a polite, "Afternoon." However polite the greeting is, Uillean comes across as genuinely surprised to have been addressed, her finely-plucked eyebrows lifting, her mouth drawing in. Rallying, after a moment, her expression returns to something more gracious; smiling, apparently genuinely, she returns, "And good afternoon to you, also. They are," she hesitates, then concludes, "enthusiastic, these children. But perhaps not so careful. They should learn to look." The handle of her parasol is spun, idly, between her fingers. "They probably should, but likely won't," Ebeny responds with an easy smile, lifting her shoulders in a helpless little shrug. "They're only young; not really doing any harm. I'd rather enthusiasm than dutiful little people, to be honest, though duty has its place." Her attention strays briefly from Uillean as she peers down the shore, leaning a touch to get a better look, her gaze following the child that crashed into her as though she'd make sure that they're still intact. Turning back, manners are remembered and she extends a hand. "I'm Ebeny. Laurienth's." A nod is given the green in the water. Uillean is visibly unconvinced by this, even going so far as to open her mouth to, presumably, argue the point. But she stops, and instead, extends her soft, white hand to take Ebeny's. "And I am Uillean. I suspect this matter is just another in which Weyr opinions differ from Hold, but no matter. When in a weyr--" She doesn't complete the statement, but the meaning is likely obvious. "As long as their duty is remembered in times of importance, perhaps it matters less, for now." "Well met," the greenrider chirps, inclining her head just barely. Hand reclaimed, it joins her other to be laced loosely before her, though, from how Ebeny fidgets for just a moment, those fingers might well be all knotted-up shortly. "They'll have a lifetime of duty soon enough, right? Maybe they can be allowed to be silly and carefree whilst they can," she supposes, smile tugging at her lips. "My daughter - I'd not have her behave badly, but I'd have her be a child. She has Hold and Weyr in her blood and I hope for both to teach her." A breath is taken and she goes on, "You're... Holdbred, then? If you don't mind my asking." Uillean listens, attentively, as Ebeny speaks, her head tilted just fractionally to one side as she considers, though her exact feelings on the subject are more hidden this time. "I suppose so," she allows. "It is difficult knowing. I have no children, myself, of course. I am Holdbred, yes." A fraction of a pause, somehow seeming perhaps artful, or intended for dramatic effect, and then, "From Crom. Though I was posted to High Reaches Hold until recently." If Ebeny has any strong feelings either way about that Hold in particular, they don't surface visibly and still she smiles, nodding once more as though to acknowledge the response given. "I've met some good people from Crom, in times past," might not be the reply expected, but it seems perfectly genuine, even if she's somewhat innocent with it. "I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with High Reaches Hold. Or... many Holds, truth be told. I assume you must look to a Craft Hall to be posted to a place?" Graciously; "I appreciate that. It is quite distressing to find so many negative impressions of my home Hold, here. I try to understand, but-- Crom is home." Uillean gives an artful shrug of her shoulders, as if this explains away everything. "I am a Weaver, yes. High Reaches Hold is a pleasant enough place. I could not say that I was terribly heartbroken to leave it, however. When one is beholden to a Craft Hall, however... one goes when and where one is told." "The past is... difficult to shake," Ebeny utters quietly, almost apologetic with it. "But everyone has to move on, don't they? Negativity can't be clung to forever. So I hope. Home is home, and, no matter what happens, it's still part of a person and deserves loyalty." Again, her shoulders lift, cheeks colouring faintly after that ramble runs away with her a tiny bit. "One of my younger sisters is a Weaver. An apprentice. I'm not sure that I could do it... Go where others chose to send me, that is." Uillean inclines her head forward into a slow, solemn nod. "I understand," she says, allowing, after a moment, the corners of her mouth to turn up into something like a smile. "I hope we can all move on; I hope, perhaps, that my being here will make some kind of difference." Her expression twists slightly, apologetic, as though she's conscious this is a conceit. "It is a part of duty, I think. It is my duty to my craft, and my responsibility. But--" And she smiles, more broadly, this time. "That does not always make it easy." Ebeny's fingers unknot little by little, leaving them linked only loosely once more. "Better to hope to make a difference; to be conscious of that wish. I'd think that doing so means it stands a greater chance of becoming reality..." the greenrider hazards, muddy green eyes going distant for a time as her voice fades out. Shaking her head like she'd dislodge what thoughts that has her thinking, she tunes back in, saying, "No, I guess it can't be easy, even when accepting things as they have to be. I hope that you've found yourself welcome wherever you've been sent though. Especially here, even with... the past as it is." Adjusting her parasol from one hand to the other, Uillean seems genuinely pleased by Ebeny's assessment of her desires, and nods with dignifed enthusiasm. Her eyebrows raise just slightly as the greenrider goes distant, but she doesn't let them remain that way. Cheerfully, she tells the other woman, "I have, and thank you. There has been only a very little unpleasantness, of which I am grateful, and pleased." Her gaze seeks out the bowl, then, lingering for a few moments before returning to her companion. Apologetically; "I should be moving on - I only intended a short walk. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ebeny." "Good; I'm glad," Ebeny answers earnestly, allowing a small smile to resurface for a brief time. At least, she might intend for it to be there and gone, but it sticks just as it might begin to fade and she dips her head politely. "You too, Uillean. I hope you have a nice evening." There's not really the distance required for a wave, but she unlinks fingers and lifts one hand to provide one anyway, smile growing just a little wider before she finally sets off into the water - barefoot - to look her lifemate over. Or simply splash her. One of the two. |
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