Logs:Helpful
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| RL Date: 9 May, 2015 |
| Who: C'ris, Farideh, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: C'ris just wants to be helpful, and Farideh and Edyis have some suggestions. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, R'van/Mentions |
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| It seems that C'ris is back in the evening to hang around the weyrling complex, his riding leathers shed for a soft wool sweater in blue that looks rather comfortable. He has pulled it over his lips, holding it there as he lounges on the big, beat-up couch right at the back there, waiting until someone needs him, apparently. He doesn't do much as he waits, not occupying himself with food or books or anything really, except for occasionally glancing over to closed doors. Akluseth precedes Edyis in most things, the brown warbling in greeting as he enters the training caverns. Behind him Edyis trails, towling dry dark curls as she heads toward the barracks proper. Dark eyes rest on the rather comfortable looking bluerider with a soft smirk. "Clearly you need a better hobby." She calls over playfully. The lack of one petite, pale gold in the barracks might lead others to the conclusion that her lifemate is, also, not in the barracks; it certainly could seem that way. But out of the cot-side, speed-walking, Farideh hauls around the corner, still pulling her golden yellow tunic over her head. She manages by the time she's passing the tables, and anyone else present in the cavern, to drag the hem down over her bare midriff, though her panicked flush remains. It's at the doorway that she spins around, clearly distraught. "What time is it?" she asks, of anyone, really. "I'll have to think of--," C'ris starts agreeing to Edyis, laughter there on his words and in the dance of warm brown eyes. If his lips weren't covered by that soft wool, there would likely be a smile there, too. Yet it's gone by the time Farideh has come from the barracks, his gaze widening slightly at her panic and her state, as he immediately starts to straighten and sit up on the couch. "Everything ok there? You need something? It's just after dinner." Edyis shifts her attention to the dressing goldrider, brows faintly knit together. "You Ok there Farideh?" Concern coloring her expression even as C'ris rushes to the rescue... or not. "I'm--" Farideh spins around in a circle, and then stops, abruptly, frowning at Edyis. "It's just after dinner? That's it?" She sounds relieved, for some reason, and brushes fingers through her hair. "I thought it was later. I have to--" Her eyes slant to C'ris, her frown deepening. "What are you doing here?" Now, she sounds irritated, if marginally so, by that familiar stranger in the blue sweater, but her eyes shift back to Edyis, brows raised. "I'm volunteering. Helping. That's why I asked if you needed anything, because I am here to help," C'ris offers to Farideh, flashing a quick, assuring smile to the weyrling without standing from his claimed couch. Openly wary eyes flick back to C'ris, taking him in in his entirety this time, from the sweater to the couch, before Farideh crosses her arms over her chest. "You're the new guy," she answers, "but you're-- you probably aren't even older than R'van." She sounds suspicious, definitely. C'ris lifts his fingers to scrub at his hair, a habitual gesture of thought as he answers, "Uh, I am. Have to be. Candidates wouldn't be able to Stand if they were my age, so." He points out, brightly, "Older than the other assistant weyrlingmasters, too, but I don't have any training at this. That's why I'm volunteering." Has he mentioned yet, that he's volunteering? This time it's paired with a somewhat dopey grin. Edyis tilts her head under that lift of brows from Farideh, almost as though saying what?. The smirk widens as she works the towel through still damp curls. "I'd wager he's close enough to K'zin's age. Though he is nice enough to bring people breakfast." Yes Edyis's good opinion can be bought with breakfast pastries. "He's the new slave labor. One of the ones Quinlys somehow manages to hypnotize into working for no extra pay." More amusement and friendliness to the words than anything else. "Really? He looks about seventeen," Farideh says. "I met him in the records the other day," is informing Edyis, since they both know already, "and I'm just surprised." She keeps studying him, like she's trying to figure something out. "Do they really need that much help? There's one Weyrlingmaster and three assistants, and only seventeen of us. We can't be that big of a handful, especially not now that they're growing." "Yeah, probably not. But I wanted to learn and Quinlys said I could help out and hang around and get some training in," explains C'ris, only huffing out another easy breath of laughter for Farideh's summation of his age. But she isn't the one who gets his smile this time; it is Edyis that it is directed to in a bright flash as he offers in addition, "I'll bring some more tomorrow. Anything in particular you like?" "K'zin acts seventeen." Her lips are twisting wryly, in the discussion of the rider who looks eerily like one of her older brothers. Dark eyes glitter at the promise of breakfast. "Really? Those muffins, the ones they throw berries in the batter?" She sounds almost dreamy as she describes the pastry. "Who would argue with free help when your working inside a budget?" Edyis suggests after Farideh's observation of needing help. "Besides some of us tend to be handfuls, Not every dragon is as sweet or polite as your gold." "K'zin is completely useless." Farideh glances between C'ris and Edyis, and settles on an ambiguous frown, that is sort of mild, sort of soured. "It would be preferable if you could actually do something needed rather than play breakfast delivery," the goldrider says. "Like returning hides and books to the records, or fetching needed ones. Copying notes from lectures. Oiling aid?" But for all of her words, there's the tiniest curl at the corner of her mouth, hinting at underlying amusement. "Mine was a terror and monster, when I was a weyrling," agrees C'ris to Edyis' observation, tipping his chin in agreement. "And technically, there're 34 of you. That can get overwhelming." Yet still, he does smile and agree with Farideh easily as well as he adds, "'Suppose I could do that, if that's what you needed." Edyis studies Farideh pensively, as though mentally sketching her out. "That is a tad bit harsh, even if mildly accurate," Edyis says of the bronzerider diplomatically. Of other uses she shrugs, grinning to the bluerider, "See not even three months on a gold and already she's thinking like a weyrwoman," but the words hold more affection than malice. "It isn't so much that Akluseth is a monster, he just, it's like having lightning strike you, him in your head. All restless energy." "Someone has to," Farideh points out, quietly, and then starts to pat herself down, from hips upwards. "I think-- no, I'm fine. I should go though. I'm late." Late for what, she doesn't say, but there's a nod to C'ris and an encouraging smile for Edyis. "I'll see you later," could be to either, though there's a lingering look for the brown weyrling before she turns and slips out the barracks exit. A breath is exhaled out as Farideh leaves, a brief huff of it that might show that the bluerider isn't as unaffected by things as he might seem to be, before that smile is back for Edyis while he stretches to his feet. "It'll get better, you know. I am sure you're sick of hearing that, though, but it's true. Just takes time," C'ris tells the brownrider gently. "Then you'll have other things to worry about, and the bond won't seem like much anymore. You won't remember what the fuss was." Ink-dark eyes follow the goldrider out, and that look gets met with a tilt of her head. "That one is going to be more trouble than I anticipated." She murmurs the words not fully intended to be aloud. "Don't take it personally," Edyis offers at the huff, a sympathetic smile forming. "All I ever hear, it seems." For being sick of hearing it, but she laughs. "I'd settle for finding a set of leathers that don't smell like something died in them. I've got an order in with the leatherworkers, but I imagine it will take some time for them to be done. We'll be flying sooner than that." "That I can work on," is said like a promise and paired, as ever, with a smile on C'ris' part for the weyrling. "Just leave it to me, ok?" But he is burying his fingers back into the soft wool of his blue sweater, hesitating further with a glance to the barracks and then the tunnel leading out. "Ok. What's with the shifty-eyed routine? Did what she said really bother you that much?" She asks plopping into the far end of the couch, towel thrown over her neck now that her hair was mostly dry studying the bluerider thoughtfully. For leathers, "Only if you want to." She says of the leathers with a smile, "Otherwise I'm sure I can figure something out." "No, I, uh, wasn't sure how long I'm supposed to stay," admits C'ris with the faintest hint of a flush of embarrassment, the flashed smile somewhat self-deprecating in its intent. He reaches out fingers expectantly towards Edyis, no actual explanation paired in what he expects from the weyrling as she plops on the couch. "No, really. Leave it to me. I had an ex-girlfriend, once, who had like, three sets. She was about your size. I bet I can get one off her for you. They'll be better than what you can find in the stores and you'll be the best dressed weyrling." There is humor written warmly there for that thought on the bluerider's part. The former scribe laughs, "As far as I can tell they take shifts, so if you wanted to escape before someone with real problems lays claim to your free time." She lifts her shoulders. The fingers get a confused look from the younger woman, who smiles. "I would be grateful." She answers, "Though if the two of you parted badly, please don't force yourself into an awkward situation on my account." Humor mixed with truth as she relaxes. C'ris just wiggles those fingers, though he at least switches it up to wave slightly towards the towel there before wiggling them again. "No, we didn't. We're still friends and all of that, but she met someone else and fell in love. They've weyrmated now, and they're happy, so that's good," he feels like he has to explain for the weyrling's benefit, that smile still hovering around his lips. He finally explains with an addition, "I'll get that to the laundry for you, then, while I escape." Relinquishes the towel when she realizes what the finger wiggling is all about. "Well, that's good, that things didn't end badly," Though what else a person is supposed to say about that situation? It's obvious the weyrling doesn't know, since she resorts to a shrug. "Thank you C'ris. For breakfast too." Offering a somewhat sleepy smile, "Quick, while you still can." She teases of escape. Leaning back and closing her eyes for a moment. "Like the wind," is C'ris' last agreement, the towel thrown over his own shoulder before he turns to retreat from the weyrling complex, practically looping out of there. |
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