Logs:Gifts for Quinlys
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| RL Date: 4 April, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Faryn and K'zin go runner riding. After a long talk in their square of solitude, they decide to bring gifts back to the Quinlys: a bouquet of flowers, and a candidate! |
| Where: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches area |
| When: Day 11, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Dresdyn/Mentions, Edeline/Mentions, Edyis/Mentions, Fadra/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, N'gan/Mentions, Nimae/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions, Wakina/Mentions, Zianarius/Mentions |
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>---< Mountain Meadow (TP Room - HRW) >--------------------------------------< A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks. The offer had been simple when K'zin happened upon Faryn at work in the stables. He'd help her finish, then they'd go riding. Real riding. Not walking the runners, but putting them delightfully through their paces to make good time to the meadow some distance from the Weyr. Arguably, since K'zin didn't leave the ground to get here, it's probably not a violation of the order that keeps him bound to High Reaches until hatching. The bronzerider came prepared to ride, perhaps inspired, even, by their recent talk of it. Perhaps he even came prepared to find Faryn wherever she was for the supplies he's brought of nuts, dried fruit and water seem enough for the two of them. There's even redfruit for the runners. As they come into the meadow with its long grass and colorful blooms, K'zin slows his runner to a pace easier for unseen ground beneath its hooves. "There's a stream over yonder," yonder, "for the runners." He advises before directing his that way. "We can leave them tied up there and--" He glances at the grass, "Pick some flowers while they have a rest?" It's been ages since Faryn shirked her duties; they've seemed suddenly very important, whether it was in the stables or the feeding grounds, and despite her reputation of being troublesome - one that came from the higher ranking healers both within and without the weyr - she could pretty reliably be seen tending her tasks these days. K'zin's offer, then, marked the first time the herder had delighted at leaving early, and with the bronzerider's help, also meant her duties were completely done when she tacked up a swift grey mare and left with him, delighted to run the beast as she was meant to be run. She'd immediately taken posture: not riders but racer's, leaned close along the runner's back each time they pushed them, and their time was good enough that she couldn't quite contain her disappointment to see they'd arrived, despite the beauty of the area. She stood in her stirrups, glancing around. "There are those," she acknowledges, probably of the flowers, which her eyes have lit on. Her smirk is teasing. "Pick flowers, exchange bouquets. You can have mine, just for riding with me." "I'm not certain," K'zin begins, as if serious in his concern, "that you know which ones will best compliment my complexion. We have only just met," he points out. The bronzerider, for his part, is a competent rider, though certainly the sort more inclined to ride for the enjoyment of riding than to ride for winning any sort of race. At least, he's done his best so far to direct (or redirect if she got too far ahead and had to wait for him to catch up to give direction), such that Faryn can ride ahead as she pleases. "So you're a herder?" It's a very 'we've just met' question, and asked in a tone that's invitation for her to say whatever she likes about it rather than to limit her to a yes or no. "I've got something of an eye for color," counters Faryn, equally serious. "I should have been a weaver, but damned if my hands don't shake too much for a needle. I think I'd do just fine." She's taken her horse to a leisurely walk, finally pulling her to a stop near the aforementioned stream before dismounting and taking the reins in hand to tie her. The look she casts his way is considering and slightly suspicious at first - well, obviously - but she picks up quickly and says, "Yes. It was different in Tillek, but I like it a lot. It gives me time with these guys," the runners, "and I guess the herds aren't bad, either. If a more troublesome to manage." It's an easy segue, then, for her to say in the same exact invitation, "So, you're a dragonrider." She bends down then, picking one of the orange flowers and holding it up, squinting one eye and looking beyond it to him, as if trying to decide if it goes with his clothes and complexion. "Well," K'zin's dubiousness could be real, "so long as you're sure." These things are important, after all! His motions mimic his companions once they've arrived at stream's edge and he pulls from the saddlebags a blanket, which he proceeds to fan out over a section of tall grass and crush the beautiful blooms below. The spot he picks in the tall, tall grass is near enough to the runners that any mischief might be heard, but enough into it that once he's retrieved the rest of the items (the snacks and water) from the bags, the grasses create practically a square of solitude - so much so that the rest of the world might not exist. He invites Faryn to the blanket with a gesture, before settling himself and reaching up to pull a nearby blue bloom for closer inspection. "And a racer before that?" He asks curiously, though without apparent agenda, taking her explanation, it seems, at face value. "Assistant weyrlingmaster if you want a technical mouthful," he answers. "But that's pretty new. I was a Smith before I Impressed, but almost always at the Weyr since I was nine." It's a succinct history, but seems honest. "Such a spiffy title. Very fancy. Were you far in your craft?" Orange is not his color, after all, and Faryn instead tucks the bloom behind her ear, a colorful accent to the practicality of her plaited hair. She accepts his invitation presently, eyeballing the blue flower and shaking her head at it, too, though it's well on the way to being right. His invitation is accepted presently, and she sits down without much grace on the blanket, close enough to the edge that she can pick at a flower - a blue, not noticing his own - hold it up to him, then twirl it in her fingers while she considers, both the color and the question. She eventually flips the flower in a dismissive gesture, but doesn't quite discard it, saying, "Oh, no. I went into the beastcraft early. Tried all manner of them before it stuck. It was the best I could do. Not to say it's not good." She's quick to amend the last part, just to be clear. "But Tillek is mines, wines and sailors. If you don't fit in those, you're mostly secondary." "I might be more realistically entitled 'Quinlys' bitch,' being the newest of the new," but K'zin doesn't seem to mind even if that really is the case. "Orange is a good color for you," he decides offhandedly, bringing his own blue to touch his lips for her to have a closer comparison before, before shrugging a little and setting about idly tearing the pretty thing apart with his fingertips. "I was starting to prep for my journeyman's exams. Still a couple turns off, but they were talking of posting me elsewhere when I passed and there was a clutch on the sands so I asked to Stand." Conveniently, for Rasavyth. "Not sure, now that I'm a dragonrider that I'd have wanted to stay in my craft my whole life, though I still practice. At the forge. When there's time. My old journeyman even lets me sit in on lessons when I've the time, though it's slower going now than it was when that was my whole life." He nods slowly to her description of Tillek before saying, "I was born in Tillek. My mother was a posted minecrafter there but I don't really remember it. Was only three when I went back to minecraft." There's laughter, for that. "Always somebody's bitch," is her response. "As far as those things go, Quinlys seems like she's not a bad option. At least, what I've seen." Which admittedly isn't much. The compliment gets a bit of color on her cheeks, and she flicks that bloom a little bit with a murmured thanks, but is still more inclined to continue. "Just because you didn't want to be a smith, you Stood?" There is no particular judgement, just a strange curiosity. "You could have changed crafts. You could have gone completely craftless, even." A pause. "Well, I guess you kind of did, anyways. Azaylia said she likes seeing that, people still practicing a craft even when they're 'riders." As for her, "I was three when I went to Tillek. Maybe four? I was born at Ista Weyr, but...I don't know, I guess maybe it was a distraction, to have me there. So my dad took me." She's neutral about that, no inflection of feeling either way. "It was probably for the better, anyways." "If it makes you feel any better, that's why my mother sent me to my father and all my brothers back at the Hall. Happens to crafters too," K'zin shrugs. "Guess mothers are largely busy people," he adds, trying for humor but it falling a little flat. "And no, a dumber reason. I didn't want to leave High Reaches, is all. It had become my home, didn't want the Hall to send me off to wherever they wanted to send me." He can't smile for that because that makes him have a grim moment. "Don't like thinking of that happening to riders because of this whole Igen mess." He sighs. "I think there'd be those of us that fight for what the weyrlings want. I know I would. Even if they truck me off to Igen in punishment." Not that Igen would probably want him at that point. Perhaps he doesn't acknowledge every point she makes, but he certainly seems to be listening to all of them. Faryn's expression is wan, a bit distant. "I guess they are," of mothers, and "This place has a way of doing that, doesn't it?" of the Reaches. "When they sent me here, I was just keen on getting my journeyman and then moving back. Or, you know, wherever. I just wanted to prove to them that I deserved to take the sharding test, instead of this...perpetual apprenticing I'm in. They were worried about me being responsible. Too much racing, too much betting, not enough working towards it." That's a short rant that's a long time coming. "I'm not irresponsible. I just need to be stimulated." Grudgingly, she admits, "Them sending me here was a good idea, even if they sort of had to because of the storm." She picks another flower, red this time, and holds it out for him to compare with the aside, "That one will be nice," and then, her mouth is a flat line of discontent. "I wouldn't want to go. I think I'd even trade an Igen post from the craft, for anything else. But leaving 'Reaches for that? Nah. Good thing they've got Igen candidates, at least some will be able to go." K'zin's expression is open and thoughtful as Faryn rants. When she gets to the 'being responsible' part he has a rueful sort of expression, nodding a touch when she expresses the root of the problem. "Well, it's probably on your journeymen if they're not challenging you properly. I'd almost say all you'd need is a dragon. But I can think of dragons who aren't very. Mine is, but not all of them are." It's sort of a tangent, which he seems to realize, coming back to the main point of things. "I'm not sure getting sent as a dragonrider is very much different than being sent as an apprentice or journeyman. Still being told where to go. Job description's just different." He's thoughtful though, how different is it really? "Shells, this is depressing," he declares with a laugh that lacks lightness and flops back on the blanket, reaching one hand out to snag the neck of the waterskin and pull it toward him. "You're telling me." Faryn's adamant agreement is there. "I'm worried, honestly. It almost feels like by the time the hatching is said and done, plenty of the people that have made this place what it is will be gone. Just the dragons, do that." Faryn shifts on the blanket, soaking up the sun pleasantly and laying on her belly, propping her chin in her hands. Relaxed. "Probably, it was the Journeymen. Half was probably me. They'd give me an inch, I'd take as much as I could get before they stopped me. I was young." She shrugs, weak and one shouldered because of her new position. "The thing is, if you're Impressing in a weyr, you should know that's your fealty. They seem more like they are inviting you to a family. Transfers happen, I know, but for half a clutch to be sent off? You stood because you knew that was the way you could stay here, yes? These people don't even have that. It makes everything more terrifying." "There's cause to be worried," K'zin answers, his hand stilled with the waterskin as yet unopened. "But, I think, if it comes down to it, they really can't actually send us where we don't want to go. It'd be like getting a shipment of mules when you wanted purebreds." He chews his lower lip. "F'rain can't want riders with loyalty to High Reaches. It doesn't make sense." That lip is worried yet more. "Hraedhyth is protective of her and hers. I can't imagine she'd force anyone who didn't want to go away from their home." He finally sits up to open the waterskin. "Aishani and Iesaryth were brought from Monaco after she hatched there, but before weyrlinghood was over, I think. I worry more that the dragons may want to go with their dam, or worse that the hatchling will between because its lifemate didn't choose to stand, or wasn't allowed to." His expression of concern is grave and pained. Perhaps to distract himself he offers the waterskin over to Faryn now that it's open. Adjusting on her elbows, Faryn extends her hand to accept the water, but then doesn't immediately take any. She sloshes the skin around, listening to the water hit the edges hollowly. "Then," she poses, "what would happen if there weren't enough dragons that wanted to go? Wouldn't the weyr be in breach of their promise, then? That would mean trouble." She takes a drink, several long swallows, then recaps the skin and sets it between them. "Even Hraedhyth isn't going to change that there's a standing promise." About between, she's thoughtful, her own lip drawn into her mouth in accidental imitation of K'zin. "That doesn't happen often, though, does it? They have enough candidates for each of the eggs to Impress." But she's thinking, and hard, about something she's not yet willing to disclose. "That is an excellent question I can't claim to know an answer for." K'zin frowns, "Weyrwoman Irianke or Weyrwoman Azaylia are probably the best people to ask. But it would be the Weyr council that would have to settle it if the Weyrleaders couldn't among themselves. Nimae's supposed to be a force to be reckoned with, by all accounts I've heard, but not necessarily a bad force." He considers then. "It's not necessarily about the number of candidates, so much as the right one. A couple clutches back, there was a brown who picked his lifemate out of the Stands because he wasn't in the class. Even my class, a blue took the likely choice for Lady Edeline's heir as his lifemate." The face K'zin makes is definitely a review of the dragon in question. "I don't remember any times that we've lost an egg that way, but I sure don't want to see it happen. I remember when I was younger there was a clutch they were worried over having enough candidates but it worked out. The right people." He visibly shudders, "I'd not like to think what would've happened to Rasavyth if I'd been at the Hall instead, doing study for some damned unimportant exam." Unimportant, certainly, when compared to his lifemate's whole continued existence beyond the shell. "Sounds like someone - probably one of the queens - would be compelled to make one of the dragons do it. Everyone will listen to golds, I thought, especially if they're in charge. So one of them says, 'You, go to Igen. Now,' and even if they don't want to, or their rider's don't, they're going. If," Faryn adds, "that becomes any sort of problem, that is." She sits up slightly now, squirms forward and gives K'zin a look that that silently begs permission to dig into the mix of snacks he's brought. "Really, though, from the stands?" She grimaces silently. "That seems...alarming. But at least it didn't die. What about you, though? Was it worth it? The change?" "Yah," K'zin answers Faryn, "but the thing is, half of a rider pair is human. We might feel sympathy for our dragon's compulsion and ultimately have to go with them, but queens can't force a human to do anything, technically. It's kind of weird." He reaches for one of the bags that proves to have nuts in it when he pulls out a handful. Certainly this should be permission enough for Faryn to do the same to the other bags. He munches on the nuts while he considers the other issue. "There was a time I would've told you that I wished I could take it back. My lifemate can be kind of an asshole." After another mouthful he adds earnestly, "As much as there is that, and there will always be that, even with everything else that's happened, I can't imagine being without him. He's so much a part of me. Like something I didn't know I was missing until he found me." He sighs, "Stands Impressions are a bit unnerving for everyone, but better that than the hatchling dies. Still better if the person is on the Sands waiting for it." There doesn't seem to be any complex designs behind the casual question, "Have you thought about Standing? In spite of everything?" "So," she concludes, "a stranger you never knew you needed, then? Or, maybe one you hoped you'd meet?" She's looking at him, kind of wistful but maybe not entirely sold. "Sounds quite a bit like love. Which, for the record, is a bit silly, too." She looks skyward as he mentions Rasavyth, though she's pretty certain the dragon hasn't followed them all this way. What with his willingness to leave K'zin on the diving rock, it doesn't seem like either of them gives the other a short leash. "Him, too." Not surprised, but certainly not entirely pleased. Whatever small appetite she had seems to leave her, and she wraps the nuts back up to put them away. "Maybe," she says, "but. What about those people who Stand and just...don't find anything? You, right, found Rasavyth. Azaylia, Hraedhyth. K'del and Cadejoth. All there, right time, right place, yeah? What if whatever dragon I should have is somewhere else? Or never there at all?" There's the fear, then. It's Igen, yes, to an extent; it's the possibility of losing her life as it is now; but more than anything, it's the possibility of not, of failing. She's fine with the subject change, then, her smile not quite touching her eyes, "Red. You'd be great in red. That color, exactly. You should get a shirt, or something, take this to show them." There's an incline of his head for the first, a rueful smile for the matter of love. "I know I'm not the greatest person to ask about that," since K'zin did find Rasavyth on his first time on the Sands. "But I think that dragons have 'sense' of who's likely to find their lifemate there," even if proportionally as many (or more, traditionally anyway) are disappointed, "and I guess I sort of think of it like this: as a crafter, you get sent to a posting, and sometimes the first place you're posted isn't the right place for you, so it sucks, but you get through it and you get a new posting eventually. Or like you kiss some people, but the first one, who might like... use his teeth or something weird, isn't the right guy for you, so it sucks but you move on. I guess hatchings are a little more emotionally fraught than that, more loaded, but just because you don't Impress here, now, doesn't mean you won't Impress someday somewhere, if you're willing to take the chance and risk it on the sands. It's a gamble." This makes him have a wry smile, given her mention of gambling earlier on. The flowers are woefully forgotten. Just for now. "I was supposed to talk to Edyis, about that. I just can't ever catch her alone, not with the cave in and everything else. It's easier to avoid that, right now. She's Stood before, I think. And she keeps Standing." A shrug for that, even when her voice is somewhat awed at the fact. "Is that bravery? Stubbornness?" Again, not questions he's likely to answer, but she doesn't need him to, given their rhetorical nature. A light sigh passes her lips, her face wrinkling in dismay at his second example. "Oh, gross," she interjects quietly, not loudly enough to interrupt, so it's not until he finishes that she says, "So, if I Stand, it means maybe my dragon will be here, or maybe it'll be at Fort," she gestures vaguely, probably in the wrong direction, "Or Benden or Telgar. Maybe High Reaches is the best kisser ever, but maybe he doesn't know how to use his tongue at all." Her eyebrows are high, her eyes brightening with amusement. "Gambling is a man's folly. I just win. Or cheat." "If High Reaches dragons have Searched you, for this clutch, I'd say it means the odds are in your favor, though they may not be forever in your favor." K'zin is briefly grim. "I've only gambled a couple times, but I asked to Stand. No dragon involved. A couple days before the hatching, I put my life-savings on Impressing. Turned a pretty mark for it, too. Ras made me split it with him, since he was the reason I won." The memory sparks a fond, unguarded smile. "As it happens," though this is awkwardly said, "I asked Edyis. If it sucked, when she didn't Impress, recently. I mean, you can certainly ask her yourself, but she told me it didn't the first time, and the second she only wondered what she was missing out on, that all her friends were getting to experience. The changes with their lifemates and all that. Which I had some things to say about," some things that is sounds like ended in a disagreement of sorts, "but," he ends there, not elaborating. He considers the nuts. "I'd call it willingness, rather than bravery or stupidity. Some people are satisfied with ordinary lives. Some people can even make extraordinary lives on their own," but doesn't that sound like a lot of work? "So I feel like Standing is being willing to find the extraordinary, just by walking onto the Sands." There's still no pressure here, just a shrug. He's just talking, and relaxing. It must be the square of solitude and all its colorful decorating; it's nice here, away from everything. "I have too much in the betting pool for the clutch," she says, sounding a bit upset about it. "I hope at least some of my bets are right, or I'll have to run off and live in this field forever, hoping nobody finds me to collect." After that, a sorry little attempt at levity, there is a very long silence in which the herder seems to just sit, consider, staring at the blanket they're on with a glossy expression. His interpretation of Edyis' experiences are under consideration, and even more for his suggestion about what qualifies as ordinary. "Some people aren't meant for extraordinary lives," she says, though there isn't any particular fire behind the statement. She sits up, then, climbs to her knees, and moves forward a few knee-steps towards him. It's the only time she might be taller than he is, and even then probably just barely. Her hands find her hips, as much for balance as for sass. "Okay," she says, "fine. I'll Stand. And I can change my mind, right? And it's not that my life is boring - I got to sit in a field of flowers with you - but it's because it sounds like, if there's a dragon there for me, it's going to find me anyways unless I'm not there at all. And I won't be responsible for it dying, or not hatching, or anything. And if it's not, well," she sits back, resting on her heels with a sigh, "then, I told you guys so." "If-" K'zin starts, leaning a little bit toward Faryn, "if you end up getting to say that last thing. To Quinlys." There's a pause, "Would you please, please let me be there?" It sounds like he's begging. He just might be. But then he grins at her and sits straight. "Come to think of it, perhaps we ought to pick some flowers for you to give to Quinlys to tell her you accept. Unless you wanted me to do that," probably, he means, replete with flowers, as he's eyeing them speculatively. "You can change your mind until you're on the Sands. And I'm glad. That you'll take that chance. Rough on a hatchling who has to search so far for a lifemate." He does sound genuinely grateful for that; he must be a bronzerider who actually cares about some things besides the shininess of his dragon's hide and the warmth of his bed. "What do you think. Blues and oranges for a redhead? The reds might clash," he consults the color expert. "Front row invitations," Faryn promises, more amused by the fact that he's entertaining the idea of someone telling Quinlys off. It's easier than thinking it might be a realistic thing, that her concerns might have some validity. "We can pick some flowers," she says. "A bouquet of wildflowers and another candidate. Gifts to make a Weyrlingmaster proud, I guess." Up on her feet, Faryn goes, looking around at the flowers surrounding them. "Reds are yours. We'll give her blues and oranges. Maybe splashes of pink. I think I saw a big group over there." She points, up on her tip-toes, in the general direction opposite the horses. "Come on, then. Before I change my mind." About flowers, or Standing, or both. K'zin's grin reaches his eyes, "Making me look good, one bouquet and knot at a time." The bronzerider pauses to pull the strings on the bags and collect them along with the blanket before they begin their flower-picking mission, a mission that he adds, "Since we're here, I need to get two other bouquets while we're at it. Yellows, oranges and blues for one I think, maybe with a bit of red?" Faryn might not be the only flower color expert, "And blues and oranges only for the other, though that one can be smaller." He flashes his smile to the now-candidate. A bronzerider has priorities. |
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Quinlys (06:20, 5 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Yay!
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