Logs:Healing Hands
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| RL Date: 6 September, 2008 |
| Who: Oysric, Kasadel |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Kas takes a break from all this unloading business, and ends up meeting another 'Reachian - Oysric. |
| Where: Weyr Entrance, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 9, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Madilla/Mentions |
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| Weyr Entrance, High Reaches Weyr Cutting through the Weyr's massive outer flank, the tunnel from the outside spills out into a smooth-cut space where wagons often pull in to unload supplies or take shelter during bad weather. Crates and dollies line one wall, ready to be pressed into service for carting stuff around. Five other passageways, dimly lit by well-spaced glows, lead deeper into the Weyr; a draft from the centermost hints at the bowl beyond. The tithe arrived a few hours ago, and the unloading, sorting and putting away of all the goods continues, despite the fact that evening has turned towards night, and many of the helpers have retired for the day. Among those still about Kasadel, sweat-stained forehead and shirt indicating that he's been at it for some time, though at the present moment, he's resting atop a large crate, a half-drunk mug of water sitting beside him. Working at some place aside from the stables today, Oysric too seems to have helped in the heavy lifting and other assorted manual labour with regard to the tithe. He, like Kasadel, appears sweaty and relatively roughed up from the hands-on work. With both sleeves hiked up above his elbows, Oysric drinks something other than water. He is, after all, a Reachian. And with the Snowasis so close, it's hard not to fall into temptation. Leaning against another crate, not too far from Kasadel, the stablehand drinks a glass of ale heartily. Wiping sweat off his brow, he looks back to Kasadel, curious. "You staying for a reason?" he asks, genuinely curious. "... or is our water too hard to turn down?" The curiousity is soon replaced with a faint snarky attitude. Kasadel wipes water from his lips, having taken another sip, turning his head to consider the person addressing him. "Still work to be done," he says lightly. "Got to earn my keep somehow, even if it is limited to," he indicates his mug, then Oysric's ale with a rueful grin, "Water. For the moment." He sets the mug back down, using his now-freed hand to push sweat-dank hair away from his forehead. Oysric considers Kasadel's comments curiously, watching the younger man with eyes very nearly hidden behind his ale glass as he drinks. "I figure that's a good mindset to have with tithes," Oys intones back to the five turns younger teen. "Then again, I think that's the /only/ mindset to have." He flashes a brief smile to the man. Nothing as certain as a grin, but at least the smile is noticable. "And where will you go after your drink of water?" Oys asks. "What will you do?" "Don't know much about tithes," comments Kasadel, easing back further on his crate and picking up the mug again, "But I'd wager you're right on that one. 'Sides," He grins, "There're still a few pretty girls about to impress. Maybe." Transferring the mug from one hand to the other, then back again, the teen shrugs his shoulders. "Carry on with the unloading until we're done, then bunk down in the wagons for the night, I s'pose. Real question is what I'll do /tomorrow/, or the next day, maybe." "That uncertain?" is Oysric's next question, eyes already half-hooded, appearing tired. "Don't say I know enough about tithes either." He pauses and then adds: "I'm a stablehand here, see." He motions around him, as if a runner might magically appear, galloping like some ghost into the entrance to the Weyr. "Worked the dawn shift in the stables and helped with the tithe..." he offers. "It tires a man out." A pause next, few beats pass. "Pretty girls," the stablehand finally repeats. "We do have at that. There's a Harper here that's awfully pretty. A postmaster too." Kasadel, after a moment's pause, shakes his head. "Not really. Thinking of staying - maybe getting some work as a handyman, or something. Nice and physical. Beats crushing grapes all day. Stablehand, huh? Not much into the animals, myself. Rather walk. S'long day, though, to do a shift there, and then help. Guess it really is all hands on deck, come tithe time." His gaze, while half hidden behind his mug, seeking out one of those pretty girls, though it lingers for only a moment. "Yes? Good. Seen a few already, since I've been here. Good for a man, bit of eye candy." "Handyman," Oysric repeats, amused. "My brother was one. Then he was a Rider. Then he became Weyrleader. Now he's back to being just a rider." He looks out, away, anywhere other than Kasadel as he finishes off his ale. He sets the glass down and looks back to the teen. "Good for a man," Oysric repeats. "So then how does it affect you?" It's a jab at the sake of the teen's age. "Your no man yet." He double-checks, however, his pale hazel eyes looking at Kasadel up and down. Confident in his initial appraisal he leans against the crate again, relaxing. He seems half-asleep as it is, so maybe it's a good thing he's leaning against something. "Eye candy's nice, but I like one with a strong will," Oys explains. "Whip-smart mind trumps eye candy any day." Another few beats pass. He closes his eyes in that span. "Then again," he mentions to Kasadel. "Satiet, our Weyrwoman, has both. Those are the /real/ special ones." "Was he now? Fine progression, there," says Kasadel, clearly at least a little impressed, though that fades fairly quickly to affront as his manliness is impugned. "As I figure it, once a person has taken some measure of control over their life, they can be considered a man. So I'm one. 'm taller than you are, anyway." Putting his mug aside once more, the - admittedly, young - man adds, "Like 'em with spirit, too. But big adoring eyes, they make up for a lot. You've a thing for the Weyrwoman?" He sounds disdainful, as if considering such a thing quite inappropriate for a mere stablehand. "I don't have a 'thing' for anyone, really," Oysric tells him. "The Weyrwoman? Just an acquaintance. A friend of limited exposure, possibly." The stablehand seems to wake up a little more, opening his eyes as he hears the impressed tone, however little, from the teen. "Big adoring eyes," he repeats, amused. "You sound your age," he offers. It's an insult the way he says it. Or possibly one. "Not that manly," Oys replies conclusively, eyes dropping back to close again. "Not yet anyways." "That's gotta make life pretty boring," says Kasadel, dismissively, turning his head to consider the other man with a huff and some rolled eyes, which is probably as much reaction to further mention of the Weyrwoman than anyone. "I /am/ my age. I like girls. Plenty of 'em like me, too. You don't look much like a man, yourself. Girly looking. 'least I'll grow out of--" he breaks off, to indicate himself with a hand, pimple-faced youth and all. Oysric laughs aloud now as he listens to Kasadel, telling him: "I like girls too, the question is do girls like /you/?" His brows twitch upward in expectation. He doesn't need to be baited by the younger lad, so there's no response to his effeminate features nor the lack of potential of 'growing out of it'. Kasadel, all teeth for a moment, tells Oysric, "No complaints from 'em yet." There's a note of pride in his tone, and self-satisfaction, too. Oysric laughs once more, not seeming to mind the young man's inflection. "You tell yourself that all you want," Oysric offers. Yes, he does still look like he's going to fall asleep there, leaning against the crate. And then, suddenly he opens his eyes, takes a few steps forward and lifts his hand to shake Kasadel. Meeting him halfway, so to speak, he finally introduces himself: "Oysric. You?" "I surely will," Kasadel responds, in better humour now, though his expression and tone remain very pleased with himself. "And so will they." He watches as the other man makes his sudden move, then shimmies forward to get to his own feet - he really is much taller than the other man - and accept the hand, shaking it with a firm, solid grip. "Kas. Kasadel. Well met." "Well met," he repeats, agreeing. A few beats pass, the older man studying the younger one now that he's closer. Then soon, releasing his grip from the other man's hand, Oysric takes a few steps back toward the safety of the crate. Where he closes his eyes and leans once more. "Kasadel," he asks. "Where you from originally?" Kasadel, his hand released, returns to his seat, stretching long legs out in front of him with a quiet 'oof' indicative of muscles that will be sore, come morning. "Little place in the Tillek area. Grew grapes. Not much of a future when you've as many brothers as I've got, so. Out to seek my fortune. As it were." "Tithe," Oys remarks. "/Right./" Maybe he's more than half asleep now. His voice is certainly slower, syllables drawn out longer. "Seek your fortune. Can't say you'd find one here. A fortune." One, then two beats pass. His back slides a little against the crate, but then eyes flicker back, and he's looking at Kasadel. "Handyman suits you," the stablehand tells him. From insulting to complimenting, even if with the way he says it so neutrally, it could be considered a one-off comment of indifference. Kasadel laughs, at that, shaking his head. "'Fortune' is probably the wrong word. Just out for something to achieve in, I guess. Dunno how or what, but I'll find it. Just gotta keep my head in the game." He rolls his shoulders, stretching out muscles tensed by the afternoon's exertions, and smiles. "I'll take that as a compliment, though it's not a profession I intend to stay in. Places to go, y'know? Heights to scale." "The game," Oysric intones. A breath comes out, it could him snoring. Or a short, soft chuckle. "You always speak in such cliches, Kas? Then again, you /are/ young." From compliment to insult again. "Do," he remarks. "You seem to have the right attitude toward work. Always important. "You really have a thing 'bout my age, don't you?" marvels Kas, his head shaking in amusement, and only the slightest amount of irritation. "I like reading. End up picking up words and phrases. Nothing wrong with using something that gets your point across, I think." He adds, serious, looking directly at Oysric as he nods, "Can't get anywhere without working hard. I've no time for people who don't." Pause. Then, a grin. "Unless they're pretty girls, of course." "Unless they're pretty girls," he repeats again, actually cracking him a smile and laughing aloud once more. "I'll agree to that." He pauses, considering the teen curiously, asking him: "And what is it about reading and books that you like that make you read them?" Kasadel, amused, lifts his now-empty mug - "I'd drink to it, but..." Well. Empty. Setting that mug down, yet again, he shrugs his shoulders easily. "Like knowing stuff. Gives me ideas, I guess. Don't figure that we should just give up on learning just because we've finished our harper lessons. Though I think I like reading for pleasure more than I liked them. Get to choose to, see." "And if you had your choice," Oysric asks, picking up on Kasadel's topic of reading and choosing what to read. "... what kind of book would you read?" He doesn't seem too tired now. But he does seem rather intent on leaning against that crate still. Kasadel's brows knit together in thoughtful surprise, as he remarks, "You're just full of questions, aren't you? Chat, chat, chat. Guess I like lots of things. Histories, sometimes, so long as they're the ones that are written to be interesting, and not just lists of things. Really," he grins, "anything, so long as it doesn't involve /wine/." "Suppose wine would be on the end of the list," Oysric replies, amused. Though, one can only tell from the inflection of his voice since there is no subsequent smile, grin or laugh to indicate as such. "I don't talk that often or in such volume," he replies dryly. "You should /be/ so lucky." "Give me ale, or beer, any day. Even spirits." Kas is intent in his delivery of this comment, his head bobbing several times fast to punctuate it. "Well, anyway, you've been talking plenty to me tonight, I guess. But I don't mind - it's good, to meet people, if I'm going to stay." There doesn't seem to be too much 'if' about it, actually. There's that small sound that sounds like halfway between a snore and a chuckle. "Sounds like you've made your mind up as it is, Kasadel." Oysric finally says. "That's a good thing. Shows you're decisive." "Reckon I made up my mind before agreeing to join the tithe train, at that," admits Kasadel. "And the past few hours, here at the weyr, haven't changed it at all. Can't get anywhere in life if you aren't willing to make your mind up and just go for something." He goes silent, at that note, his head turning back towards Oysric. "You falling asleep on me, over there?" "Good attitude you got there, for a kid," Oysric replies dryly. It's his sense of humour. That much is obvious. After all the talk of the boy's age, at least this doesn't sound as insulting as the earlier barbs thrown at the teenager. "Falling asleep?" he asks. "No, not yet. Got to get some fresh air soon. See the stars before bed. Just not now." Though, it's unlikely he'll make it outside with how tired he looks at the moment. But one can never know. "Gettin' old," he tells him in his best old man voice. Again, his sense of humour rings clear as day in the delivery of the comment. "In holds? We grow up. Can't stay a kid when there's work to be done." While Kasadel doesn't sound offended, anymore, by the references to his age, he's still quick to defend himself, even if his tone is relaxed. "Old? Sure you are. Over the hill, once you're past twenty, I guess. You're into stargazing?" There's renewed interest in his tone, at this question. "Interesting hobby." Oysric chuckles aloud, rewarding Kasadel with another grin. "I like stargazing," Oysric admits. "But what makes it such an interesting hobby?" He asks of the teenager's opinion, curious. "Not many people call it 'interesting'." No more comments of age, whether his older or Kasadel's younger age is brought up again. Kasadel frowns, clearly struggling to find the words to explain what it is he finds so interesting about Oysric's hobby of choice. "Guess it's just kind of unusual, unless maybe it isn't around here? Haven't met anyone interested in it before. Not sure I get why you'd want to, to be honest." "It became tradition for me to get some peace and quiet after working in the stables all day," Oysric remarks. "So I'd find a bench on the patio and sit down." He smiles, fondly even, surprisingly. "And I looked up and realized 'there's a lot of stars out there'." He chuckles once and then goes on to admit, "Ever since then, it's something I like to do to cool down from the work of the day and just enjoy myself by looking out to the night sky." By his expression, Kasadel doesn't understand this at all - eventually, he just shakes his head and says, calmly, "Huh. Whatever works for you, I suppose. Me, I'd rather find some folk to chat to. Not much for being alone." There's a moment where amusement plays on the stablehand's face. "Here's an idea on how to get close to a girl," Oysric offers. "Tell her you're going stargazing." His lips quirk upwardly into a grin before he moves on to the next phase, telling Kas: "On a cold night here, you'll have to snuggle underneath a fur or blanket just to keep warm. Share a mug of klah together... Brings two people close pretty quickly." His brows arch in expectation, perhaps expecting the teen to understand better. "Maybe a girl with big adoring eyes." Kasadel hesitates, as Oysric speaks, his brows raising steadily until they nearly reach his hairline - and then he laughs. "Right. Might take that one up. Steal your pickup line, but since I'm so young, guess we'd probably be after different girls. Unless you like 'em young." "I'd suggest Madilla," Oys offers. "But she's like a sister to me." He smirks now, saying, "So if you think I'm asking a lot of questions now, expect a /lot/ more if I find you with /her/." There's a pause and he thinks of other choices more Kasadel-like, but he can't seem to come up with any at the moment. Maybe he's getting further tired. Kasadel, with mock seriousness, promises Oysric, "I'll take that into consideration. If I run into this Madilla and take a shine to her, anyway. She's lucky, though, if she's got someone looking out for her like you. Used to do that for my little sister, not that she took much of a liking to that. 'Cramping her style', she said. Huh!" "Got an actual younger sister too," Oysric tells him. "But she's off in Telgar. Bluerider." Fondness barely noticable in his voice when he speaks of Carys. "I think Madilla is lucky all on her own. She's a very sweet girl." "Are you, like, the only non-rider in your family or something? The failure?" Kasadel doesn't sound like he's trying to be insulting with that, just curious, his head tilted half to the side and a toffee-coloured curl bobbing towards his eyes. "Sweet, huh? And pretty? Could be on to something, here." "No, that's Jolak," Oysric replies, voice practically stony. He's not taken Kasadel's question as insulting, he's merely angry at the thought of his other brother. "She's a Healer," the stablehand explains. "And a very smart one, too. I wouldn't be surprised if she made Master in record time." "Ah," says Kasadel, lightly, nodding his head sagely. "The sore spot. Well - good. Nice not to be the family failure. Me, I want to be the family success; just need to figure out how I intend to do it. Too many successful siblings." He sounds proud, though, even as he admits this. "A healer, eh? I like a girl with ambition. And--" he practically leers, if in the distance, rather than at Oysric himself, "'healing hands', eh." Oysric smirks back at Kasadel, telling the lad as he levels a gaze at him: "I just got done telling you she's like a sister to me and now you're leering like you're some boy." Dryly, he offers: "Be a man instead. Get to know her before you even consider her 'healing hands'." Kasadel lifts his hands in mock defense, promising with a grin that might be considered charming: "Promise, promise! Guy can't hurt to dream - but I ain't one to push it. Anyway, smart girls are better when you actually use the smart, make friends first. Waste of the smarts, otherwise." "Mmhmm," Oysric remarks in dry amusement, non-committal. "Just remember what I said and I think you'll be fine, Kasadel." He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "You might find she's not your type at all once you get to know her. Just don't... rush into things." "I'm not so old as I can't accept good advice from someone who's probably got a bit of experience on me," Kasadel reassures his companion, smiling in easy amusement as he begins to stretch out his shoulders again. "No rushing, promise. No pushing, no pulling, no making anyone uncomfortable. But if you think I might like her, I'll seek her out. But I keep my options open, too. There was a cute redhead, helping out here earlier. Might try and chat to her, if I can find her again." "Cute redhead?" Oysric offers, rubbing at his nose. "You catch /her/ name?" Curiousity drives him to ask, looking around the area as if expecting to see such a redhead. He nods to the litany Kasadel reassures him with, agreeing with each item in his list. Kasadel mms, leaning back with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "Gone now," he reports. "Left at dinnertime, I think. She was helping sort things. Think I overheard them calling her-- 'Lendi', maybe? Alendi? Something like that." "Hm," Oysric replies. "Not sure I know the name. Then again there are a lot of people in this Weyr." He gives the teen a brief grin and closes his eyes again, leaning further into the crate. "Sounds like a pretty name for a girl though," Oys ultimately remarks back. "Lots of people," agrees Kasadel, with feeling. "It's a little overwhelming, compared to what I'm used to, but I think I like it. Mmm," he adds, smiling again. "Pretty name for a pretty girl. Really will have to try and seek her out. I think she smiled at me. Which is a good start, you have to admit." "Oh, smiled at you," he repeats, grinning. "That is /always/ a good start." He looks amused as he listens to the other comments of the teenager, nodding once more. "Generally Weyrs do have a lot of people in it, yes. There's always a lot of riders, especially with the number of transfers from Telgar that've had, but you should know that the lower caverns has its share of people too. The non-riders and crafters together make up a sizable component as well." "Not mocking me, are you?" Kasadel wants to know, though he, too, sounds more amused than anything. "Transfers from Telgar? Didn't know that. Mmm, guess you'd need a lot of non-riders, to support the riders. Though maybe less, now there's no 'fall again. Not sure, though. Either way, figured there was probably work around, which is good for me." "That's the spirit, kid" Oysric offers to Kas. "Just keep like that and you'll be fine. The Weyr /always/ needs people with that kind of attitude." He doesn't agree or disagree with Kasadel's question of mocking. "Mm. A few transfers from the other Weyrs, too, yes." "'Kid'," repeats Kasadel, with some disdain, his nose wrinkling and the rest of his face screwing up to match. "But: good. Want to make it here. So I'd better keep that attitude, make it work." He adds, after a moment, tone neither here nor there, "Oh. Well. Fair enough. New blood, and all." Oysric nods once more to Kas in agreement. "Exactly," he replies. It's not indifferent, just sleepy. His eyes continue to be closed as he talks with the teen. "New blood's always important, yeah," Oys also agrees. Kasadel, too, is beginning to sound tired, his voice a little slower, a little heavier. "Mmm. Works for me, I guess." A yawn, then another, which he tries to stifle with his hand. "Should get things tidied up a bit, before it's time to drag out the bedrolls. More work to be done in the morning." "There's always more work to be done in the morning," he offers in additional agreement. And soon, he's taking a few slow steps away from his crate, bringing that glass that had the ale in it from before with him. "Hope to be seeing you around then, kid," Oysric offers, his lips upturning into a grin at calling Kas a kid one last time. And soon, he's walking into the Snowasis to deposit his glass. "Good night," he adds. "Kas." And soon, his steps fade off as he leaves. "Night," Kas calls after the stablehand, expression pleased, as he pulls himself to his feet to get back to it. "Oysric." |
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