Logs:Filed Away
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| RL Date: 26 September, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Jocelyn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: While assisting the Weyrwoman, Jocelyn updates Irianke on her current projects. |
| Where: Council Chambers / Headwoman's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) and Day 4, Month 12, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jounine/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Giorda/Mentions, Alieva/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions |
| In Irianke's first meeting as acting Weyrwoman, she's taken Azaylia's head of table seat with an ease that the less kind might grouse about, especially in light of how the former Weyrwoman passed. But there she is, sitting there with her stacks of hides, dressed in black with a respectfully solemn expression on her face. She waits until all the assistants and heads of staff are seated, with Giorda at her right side, and goes through the agenda in a quick, business-like fashion. Whatever Azaylia might have done in these morning meetings, Irianke is likely a far different fish. "Assistant Headwoman Jocelyn?" is said, as she runs down the list of people and their current projects. Jocelyn, seated with the other assistant headwomen, is somber and even a little grim in the wake of the Weyrwoman transition. She's not a chit-chatter in meetings beyond the required exchange of hellos if someone should speak to her beforehand, or the brief nods of acknowledgment traded amongst her colleagues. What she is is a detail-oriented note-taker; armed with a small notepad and a pen, she scribbles down anything that's important or of direct relevance to her day-to-day operations. Straightening at the sound of her name, she gives an even, "Ma'am, " pen hovering over her pad as she provides a brief status of what she's worked on in recent days. "Thank you. I'd like you to continue working on those projects until further notice." Irianke nods, her vision reverting to the sheet before her, where she reads as Jocelyn speaks, a pencil checking things off and off until she is done. Warmer, less strictly business, the acting Weyrwoman flashes the assistant a brief smile and then moves on to Jounine. Throughout, Giorda looks discomforted and seems unfocused on her own stack of paperwork. The meeting concludes with Irianke finally holding a moment of silence for Azaylia and some words, "We may be working together for only a short time, my stewardship of High Reaches interim until the next gold rises. I've appreciated your hospitality until this time as a guest and hope it will continue as I strive to aid you all in any way in steering this great Weyr." A curt nod dismisses them and leaves the goldrider alone in the council chambers. Time passes, Irianke's work with the caverns women becoming more consistent if exhausting. She is no easy taskmistress, but, to her credit, she makes sure each woman and man who works directly with her knows precisely when they are off the clock. It is something Jounine hears too often, and Alieva less. A few weeks in, an assistant headwoman is fired, and rumors abound as to what triggered such drastic events. And then... Giorda resigns, only to be replaced by Jounine, another non-Reachian. Jounine's office is so different than Giorda's though the same cave. It's decorated in rich hues with a tasteful elegance with many personal touches, indicating just how much the new Headwoman has made herself at home. But today, instead of Jounine in her office, it's Irianke, sitting at the cherry-stained wooden desk and rifling through some of the Headwoman's old records. Whatever her personal feelings regarding the shift in lower caverns management, Jocelyn has continued to position herself as one of the most capable assistants, telling anyone who inquires about how things are going with the new headwoman that the top priority hasn't changed during the transition; smooth day-to-day operations are essential to help keep the rest of the weyr running with as few logistical hiccups as possible. Hair pulled back into a casual bun and sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the redhead's attention is almost entirely on her clipboard as she pauses just in the entrance. "Jounine? I have the numbers on the fall - " Pale eyes lift in time to observe that the person behind the desk is not her usual supervisor, and she clears her throat. "Inventory, " she finishes more quietly, tucking her clipboard under her arm. "Ma'am. Apologies for the disturbance. I'll just leave these for Jounine's review and be out of your way." "Oh, I'm the interloper here. The Headwoman is allowing me to hide out here, from all the questions, the looks, the questions." Irianke's brief, comically pained expression ends with a sigh. "Did I mention questions? You can leave those there and sit a while? I'm looking for something particular, but clearly, I'm not looking in the right spot. Perhaps," the goldrider sizes Jocelyn up, "You might be the person to help." Another pause takes the assistant headwoman in again. "Jocelyn?" Jocelyn's glance is a considering one as she detaches two sheets and leaves them to the side of the headwoman's desk. It's a crisp, "Certainly if I can help, I will, " that she delivers while pulling up the nearest chair to a respectful distance. For her name, there's a tiny tilt of her chin, an attentive and brief arch of eyebrows. "That's what they call me, yes. Ma'am." There's a wry twitch of her mouth into a little smile before her expression smooths again, posture expectant. "Faces, I remember. Particularly striking ones such as yourself. Names," Irianke says that last word with some self-directed exasperation mixed with apology for her lacking. "Names are always something that floats somewhere on the periphery of my thoughts and never manages to stick too well. I'll try to remember yours better. But no promises, unfortunately, unless we somehow tangle sheets and you," the Weyrwoman appraises with a sly little twinkle in her eye, "Do not seem the type." Whether it's for being called striking or the concept of finding the rider a bedfellow, Jocelyn faintly pinks about the ears before giving a small shrug. "I tend to remember names better than faces, " she settles for saying after a moment, "unless they are, as you say - striking." As for not seeming the type: "No, I should say not. I'm not much for sheet tangling. They tend to get kicked out of the way more often than not." People and bedclothes, perhaps. There's the hint of reserved laughter on Irianke's face, masked behind a simple smile. "In either case, I'm looking for any files that might have to do with how private rooms are allocated, and not the little dorm inlets. Do you have a private room," asks the goldrider, abruptly, looking to the assistant. "It's not an aspect I had much experience with at Igen and I'm afraid it's slipped my attention until just now." "That could be under 'resources, ' 'residential' or something else entirely depending on whether or not she's switched things around from Giorda's categorization." Jocelyn shifts a little, placing her clipboard and folded hands atop her knees. "Yes, I've a room, " is her answer with an air of thank Faranth. "I did spend some time in the dormitories for the first few turns, but there's something to be said for privacy and a door that shuts." Irianke's reserved laughter is reserved no longer as she laughs, just a little, at Jocelyn's descriptions of the perks of a private room. "I will never know what it feels like to have a door that shuts. Or locks. But I imagine it would take a great deal of courage or," the Weyrwoman concedes, "Stupidity, to try and break into a ground weyr, knowing who usually occupies them." She's since gone from looking in the folder she had in her hands and standing to replace it in Jounine's cabinet. A few rifles later and she's withdrawn resources and sits again. "Where are you from?" "While it would take some level of stupidity to decide to try, I think it'd take at least some intelligence to succeed." There's a glance for the folder the weyrwoman has chosen, but the inquiry reclaims her attention moments after. "Here, " Jocelyn answers simply. "This weyr has always been my home." It's a statement colored with fierce warmth. There's certainly little need to return the question in its current form, so she alters the phrasing just so. "Were you always from Igen? You don't look like someone who was born in the mountains." The laughter is again checked, veiled behind a more sober expression but present nonetheless in that spark of joy in her slate eyes. "Ah, the hubris of riderkind. To think that we are, somehow, above such criminal elements simply due to the oversized soulmate we are paired with. I concede, Jocelyn. You are correct. It would take quite a bit of intelligence to succeed in most any kind of criminal activity." Irianke rifles through the papers, her gaze drifting back down to catch the top markers of them, and what they are designated as, and then crows in delight, her lifted hand pausing the conversation for a moment as she places a metallic marker into the slot the sheet is withdrawn from. This set of documents is tucked into a second folder and then closed. "What was your question again?" Jocelyn flicks a look toward the file again at the other's exclamation, observing the removal of that sheet with an even expression. "Igen, " she repeats quickly, fingers drumming briefly on her clipboard. "Were you always from around there, that is, since you were on the subject." Another glance is given for that second folder before gray eyes return to Irianke, eyebrows lifted. "Oh yes, where I'm from," Irianke says with a droll blandness, seeming to recall with Jocelyn's aid. "I'm a creature of the deserts. Trader born, bred, Weyr nurtured. Of Igen, but I'd forayed into Telgar and the outskirts of Benden territory before Impressing. Igen Weyr is likely the place I've stayed the longest in all my life, and it was the first time I ever had anything to call my own. A room that is. Even if it didn't have a lock or a door that closes." "A worldly creature of the deserts, then, " Jocelyn appends after a bit, hands stilling. Equally polite between one statement and the next: "You found what you were looking for, I take it." There's a subsequent nod for the files, posture still terribly straight. "I have an initial summary for you on the contracts you've had us pull, " she adds, almost as an afterthought. "We're still working on the lists, but I'm making progress on my portion of the alphabet." "Have you?" Irianke is a case study where expressions and voice seem opposed to each other. She sounds disinterested, but her eyes flick a little more avidly at the mention of these contracts. "I'll look forward to them then. When you're done, let me know and I'll clear out some time after dinner one day so you and I can go over them together before we bring in the Headwoman or Farideh. But for now," looking pleased at her trove of stuff she is taking from the Headwoman, the goldrider clutches the file to her chest and gets to her feet. "I have some learning to do, so if you'll excuse me... and could you convey my apologies to Jounine for taking over her office for the morning." A directive masked as a polite request. There really is no could there. The line of Jocelyn's shoulders relaxes just slightly as she, too, stands, tucking her clipboard into the crook of one arm. "I will. And I'll keep you updated, of course. I'm glad to be of service." It's short, but respectful enough, even if her attention has already moved back to the reports she left on Jounine's desk. "Good day, ma'am." |
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