Logs:Fishercraft Visitors
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| RL Date: 20 April, 2012 |
| Who: Meka, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys has a message to deliver. Meka is happy to help. |
| Where: Fishercraft Hall, Tillek |
| When: Day 22, Month 7, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jevi/Mentions |
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| Summer in Tillek is not without the rolling fog and so it has returned, cascading in lazy swirls on the water's edge and adding a murkier color to the afternoon sky. Craftsmen are coming and going from the Docks: hauling in the late-morning's catch that's been gutted and salted, repaired rigging, or for the children that are roaming around they are simply playing with their fishing rods at the water's edge. Up from the Docks in the courtyard, the bustle is somewhat lessened and there's a quiet spot on a bench that has been claimed. Meka taps her fingers on her thigh and hums quietly to herself, looking towards the road with a hopeful expression - waiting on someone. Starry-blue hided Olveraeth is probably not who Meka is waiting on, nor his rider, who swings down to the ground only moments after the blue makes his landing. He doesn't stay on the road - within moments, he's back in the air, winging upwards through the late-morning air, no doubt with the intention of finding himself a more out-of-the-way spot. Quinlys, red-haired and wearing formal leaders, stretches out her shoulders as she watches him, hanging back until he's out of sight. Then, in a focused, intent kind of way, she begins to trot towards the courtyard. The blue is clearly not who Meka would be expecting, but like all the others in the courtyard, she looks up at his approach and marvels at him as he lands and then takes to the air once more. When the others return to their comings and goings, Meka remains. Her hands tapping stills and she looks up as Quinlys trots towards the courtyard. Ever polite, she offers a wave to the rider and a polite smile. She won't trouble her with conversation, but there's a certain hope to her smile that perhaps the rider may want to talk to the likes of /her/. Sure enough - "Hey," says Quinlys, adjusting the leather bag she's got slung over her shoulder, and turning her attention directly towards Meka, whose smile is the first thing she catches. "I don't suppose you can direct me to where important messages to the Craftmaster are supposed to go? Usually," she twists her mouth, half amused and half embarrassed, "I don't get sent on anything important enough for that. Duties to the Hall." "Duties to the Weyr," Meka murmurs, clears her throat, and continues in a stronger voice, "I can certainly take you to the Craftmaster's office. I'm not certain he's there, but his Second may be or someone important enough to take hold of your message." She brushes her fingers nervously on her thighs and then hops down from her perch. She twitches her dress in to place and then looks up at Quinlys with a faint blush. "Should I have, uh, curtseyed to you?" she questions, "I apologize Rider...," she shuffles her feet and stands there, uncertain. "My name is Meka. Um, anyway. This way." She turns and begins to lead Quinlys through the courtyard and into the hall. Quinlys' "No!" is fervent, and filled with laughter. "I'm just a bluerider - Meka. Just running messages, and believe me, that doesn't make me important enough for curtseys. I'm Quinlys. Olveraeth's my blue. I'd appreciate it, if you could show me. Otherwise, I'll get myself hopelessly lost and they'll find my body in a month or two when it starts to smell, and then you'll all really hate me, I'm absolutely sure." The bluerider follows after Meka, adding, "You're an Apprentice?" Meka can't help the look of shock that she turns on Quinlys as they walk through the Hall. "I don't think we'd let you get so lost you'd die, ma'am." She shakes her head and pauses to sidestep a pair of Journeymen that seem to be all business as they talk heatedly amongst each other in the hallway she's turned down. "No, I'm not a formal apprentice. Been here all my life. Could be an apprentice in the sense that I'd walk tables in a few months or so," she admits without much enthusiasm. "Ah, here we are." She pauses in front of a large, orante door. She knocks a few times and stands to the side, waiting. She looks to Quinlys and opens her mouth to say more but pauses and settles her lips into a polite smile instead. "It was a joke," says Quinlys, who seems enormously pleased and amused with Meka's reaction. "And please - call me Quinlys? 'Ma'am' makes me feel old, and I'm really not." Her expression is more quizzical for the younger woman's explanation of her situation, but she puts aside further questions as they reach the door. Instead: "Wait for me? I'll just drop this in, and then you can show me back out. If you're not busy?" "I'm just waiting on Harper Jevi to return," Meka answers, nodding her head and stepping aside as a gruff voice from within calls out, "Hurry it up and come in already I've got things to be done!" Meka actually fully smiles, quickly covering her mouth with her hands. "I'll be here when you come out." She moves to the other side of the Hall and casually stands with her hands clasped in front of her. Quinlys makes a face at the Master's gruffness, and aims a glance at Meka that is pretty clearly intended to convey 'wish me luck'. She shuts the door behind her, though, after entering his office - and in the end, she really doesn't take that long. Relief is evidence, when she returns; her murmur is, thankfully, too low to carry: "He's intimidating, Faranth. Why are you waiting on a Harper, anyway?" Meka only smiles at that quick look and nods her head. As Quinlys steps outside once more, Meka moves forward to lead the bluerider back out of the various halls towards the courtyard. "Um, well," she's surprised, by the lifting of her brows, "he promised me new music. He went to Harper Hall this last seven." She steeples her fingers in front of her and shrugs self-conciously. "I sing." It's faster leaving the Hall than coming in, as the flow of traffic has dwindled down for the time being. "Would you like a meal or drink before you go? There's fresh fish in. Or the ever-present chowder to munch." She stops and points to the left, "Living cavern is just that way." "Sing!" Quinlys seems surprised by that, and it draws her in to studying Meka all over again, this time in a new light. "Is that why you're not an official Apprentice? You'd rather sing?" To the offer of food, she shakes her head, proposing, instead, "Why don't I sit with you while you wait for the Harper? I've no where to be, and I'd rather enjoy the weather - fog notwithstanding - than hang around indoors. You should tell me about your music." Meka continues on towards the courtyard, not moving too fast to out-pace the bluerider. It's soon enough they return outside and her bench is still unclaimed. She moves to settle herself on it once more, arranging her skirts around herself politely. "Not so much that singing takes over from the fishing. I just haven't got the..," she shakes herself and smiles at Quinlys. "You make me talk more about myself than I ever do, to anyone but Jevi. I like to sing, yes. I'm not that bad at it. Jevi had wanted me to apprentice at Harper but it'd crush my parents." She pauses, shrugs, looks out towards the road once more. "Did you grow up in a Weyr?" Quinlys, settling down beside Meka, has no skirts to arrange; instead, she draws one foot up onto the bench, and wraps her arm around it, staring idly off into the distance. "The drive? I know lots of people like that. And I've never seen a problem with it. Personally, I'm all about doing what makes you happy." She has sympathy for the parental situation, her nod a sage one, and adds, "I just like knowing things. You can tell me to shove off if I get too curious. Yes, I grew up at High Reaches. I'm pretty much as weyrbred as they come." "My father and mother are both multi-generation fishermen, it'd be offensive if I went to Harper," Meka admits, shrugging. "I understand. So, Master Jevi trains my voice and I compromise. Really, that's all I like anyway. To sing. I couldn't do the other Harper things... like teach." Her nose wrinkles and she shakes her head. A small smile is offered as she looks away from the road to Quinlys, "My Nana would say that you have that spell about you that makes people want to share things." "Would she?" Quinlys seems pleased with the idea, and admits: "I want to teach. Once I have enough experience as a rider, anyway. So it seems like that would be a good talent for a teacher, so I'm glad!" The bluerider lounges back, turning her attention from the road to Meka again. "That's tough. But as long as you still get to sing, I guess that's the important thing. Not all singers have to be harpers, after all, right? Music is for everyone." "I'm not the only trained singer that lives here, outside of Jevi. Not all of them sing all the time, but on special occassions we get a chorus up and sing the old sea songs," Meka explains, twisting her fingers idly around a bit of fabric from her dress. Her attention once more diverts to the road: safer than looking at Quinlys as she talks. "A teacher? They'll let you do both? Be a rider... and teach?" Quinlys listens, tilting her head to the side in thoughtful contemplation as Meka explains. "That sounds like fun. Exactly the kind of thing you need on a cold winter's night when there's nothing else to do - or outside, on beautiful clear summer ones. I think, anyway." The bluerider shakes her head, then, adding: "Weyrlings. Teach weyrlings. I don't really have any other skills. I mean... I was on the cleaning crews before I Impressed, but I'd definitely not make a career out of teaching that." Meka doesn't hold back her soft laugh, head shaking. "I don't think anyone would be pleased to sign up for that class," she admits, turning finally to face Quinlys with a bigger smile than before. "Though, I had always imagined that Weyr-life was without such drudgery. For some reason. You always think 'they're better off'. Save for a Holder. I'd /hate/ to live that life," she continues with a rueful twist of her lips and then she blushes a bright red. "I'm so /rude/. Holders have their own lives, I'm sure they love them," she continues hastily. Quinlys' grin turns into laughter, and a fervent shake of her head: she can't imagine how anyone would be, either. "Nah, that's not rude. I'm sure plenty of holders like their lives, but that doesn't mean it'd suit us. It's not an insult. I bet a lot of them would hate weyrlife, too, or craft life, or whatever. I'm sorry to say, anyway, that there's plenty of drudgery in weyrlife, too. Someone has to do it. But there's freedom, too. I could never have left it." "Freedom," Meka returns, nodding her head and then looking off towards the road again. There's a figure walking up in the distance. She shields her eyes to squint, "Hmm. That could be Jevi. I should probably let you go," she continues, moving to hop off of the bench and once more stand and straighten her skirts. "I fancy a bit of a walk. You've... well. It was awfully nice to meet you." As Meka rises, so does Quinlys. "You, too, Meka," she says, firmly. "I hope he's got lots of new songs for you, and that you get lots of time to sing them in. Thanks awfully for showing me around." A moment later, she's trotting off in the other direction, presumably to go find that blue of hers and get on with her day. |
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