Logs:History and Advice
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| RL Date: 2 May, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrling and Weyrlingmaster talk some things out. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Giorda/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Yuliye/Mentions |
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| In the post-lecture afternoon hours, the training cavern is fairly busy with weyrling and dragon activity, but the pale gold isn't among them. A peek into the sleeping area would see her curled, quite content, dozing on and off. Her lifemate however, is seated at one of the stone tables, holding a scratched mirror between her hands. Farideh's making faces at her reflection: a slow smile, a quirk of one brow, a placid look and even an attempt at light sympathy. It might not be obvious what she's doing, with how the mirror is within a foot or so of her face, and her posture casual for her task. Otherwise, there's no one at her table, and nothing aside from a book on the tabletop. It's Quinlys' habit to do rounds after lectures, to check in with as many weyrlings as she can manage to, and make sure everyone is moving forward-- with whatever it is they're working on. Having scoped out the actual barracks, the bluerider now ambles her way back into the training cavern, steps turning purposeful as she turns to head for Farideh's table. If she's figured out what the weyrling is doing, there's no sign of it in her expression; regardless of that, she slides her body into a chair opposite, resting her elbows upon the table's edge. "So," she says. The bluerider's single word and greeting is enough to drag Farideh's focus from her own moon-shaped face and lively green-brown eyes. "Tell me something I don't want to hear," she says, regarding the other woman expectantly; her hands drop, the mirror resting closer to the surface of the table. "Please?" Bemused, Quinlys' eyebrows raise. Still, she's prompt enough in offering: "K'del's going to have you transferred to Benden if you don't shape up. I hear he's making deals already to exchange you for their teenage goldrider." Now, her eyebrows quirk; something like that? It's an interesting answer choice and has an equally interesting effect on the weyrling: Farideh sits back and frowns at Quinlys. "Do you think he would do that? That Irianke would let him?" She makes a sound and shakes her head, tossing her short curls back and forth, and instead, looks into the mirror again in frustration. "I've forgotten how to hide my feelings-- on my face. That's an important thing to do--" another frown, "I think. To convince everyone that everything is fine, even if it isn't." Quinlys' gaze drops, for the first time, towards that mirror; enlightenment dawns upon her expression. "I've never been able to do that," she admits. "But you're right; it's useful. Particularly if you're involved in politics and diplomacy and that kind of thing. Which you will be, of course. Can you try to channel it towards Roszadyth, instead? Or would it upset her?" Of K'del, and any particular plans he might or might not have, she makes no further comment. "No? Don't you have to be able to? Or do political situations not apply to weyrlingmasters?" Farideh sounds legitimately curious, though she sets aside the mirror for now and sets her elbow on the table, chin falling into her hand. "I don't know. I've never tried. I try to keep her from feeling all of the-- extra emotions. She doesn't seem to mind, but I don't want to her to know those things yet. Frustration, disappointment, anger? She's so-- so-- just sweet. She might not understand." Her lips quirk. "I used to know how to do it. I just need to remember. It's different, now." Quinlys makes a face. "They do, but differently. I have to convince K'del and Irianke that I'm doing my job and not undermining them. That I-- well. It's complicated. But you'll have to deal with holders, and that's a whole different kettle of fish, sometimes. They can't fire you, if they decide you've wronged them, or whatever, but they can retaliate." She drops her elbows, now, pressing her palms flat upon the table, instead. "I bet you'll find she's stronger than she seems. She's a queen; it's innate. But-- I imagine a lot of things are different, now. Give it time. You'll relearn it." "Undermining them?" That makes both of Farideh's eyebrows lift upwards towards her hairline. "Why would they think you're undermining them? Isn't it your job to train us?" She looks perplexed, and then with a sigh, her expression shifts back to disappointment. "I don't want to cause any holders to retaliate. Everyone already has a bad opinion of holders, especially K'del--" There's no denying the displeased face she makes at mention of his name. "Should I try, then? To show her those feelings? To see what happens? What if she-- doesn't react well?" "Well, Irianke believes I mindlessly hate everything about Igen and especially her," points out Quinlys, darkly. That she has certainly given the acting weyrwoman good reason to believe this is, clearly, not the point. Of holders-- and of K'del-- the bluerider makes no comment, though her own wrinkled nose may be suggestive of some feelings. Quinlys leans back, stretching out her fingertips upon the tabletop. "Try it slowly. Try... let her feel some uncertainty, first. Disappointment. Gradual, right? You don't have to throw her everything at once-- she is still a baby. Try it while Olly and I are around, if you like; Olly can step in and help if she gets upset." "Do you? I thought you were vocal about that? Not that that should have any bearing on your capacity as weyrlingmaster." Farideh is back to looking perplexed. "Do you want me to talk to her for you? I think she might have the wrong impression." Still, there's uncertainty and hesitance in her voice, and she's quick to nod to the redhead's suggestion. "Something small," she repeats. "I can do that. I can try. She's always so happy though. How was Olveraeth when he was small? That sounds funny to say. I can't ever imagine him being small." Darkly, "I don't know her. I don't like the deal that brought her here, and I don't-- look, no, it doesn't matter. Don't talk to her; it might make things worse for you and for me, and I'd hate to be the cause of that." Quinlys shakes her head, very firmly, and focuses, instead, upon the rest of the conversation. "Can't you? He was adorably small, once. Still so serious, though. We knew what we wanted from the start. First, we had to help Iolene, because Tiriana refused to train her at all, and after that... we wanted to be weyrlingmasters. One day, Roszadyth might be-- well, not twice his size. But she'll be significantly larger. Strange thought, isn't it?" For Quinlys' sake -- for maybe everyone's -- it's left right there, despite the curious light in Farideh's eyes. "Was he always? That's good. I had wondered if-- maybe she would change. I wouldn't like that. She's-- refreshing." Then, naturally, she has to ask the important questions: "You knew Iolene? You helped Iolene? What-- what was she like? Before--" She doesn't complete that sentence, though she does look sad on the bluerider's benefit; whether she was her friend or no. "It is. I can't imagine riding her in a few months yet, much less her being as big as Niahvth." "She'll probably still change, but... it's not like they suddenly change completely. They grow and develop, the same way we do." Quinlys seems relieved to have moved away from that other topic, and is downright enthusiastic about this one, leaning forward again. "I knew Iolene," she confirms, expression solemn despite the enthusiasm that is still focused in her expression. "A lot of people lost bets on my Impressing Ysavaeth." As strange as that sounds now. "We were friends. Meara asked me to help her out, and I did. I don't know that we were close, but... she was nice. Earnest. She asked a lot of questions. She didn't understand a lot of things." "I guess," but Farideh doesn't sound like she relishes the prospect of Roszadyth changing with any kind of anticipation. "I like her the way she is and that's hard to imagine to. Her growing, developing, and-- not depending on me as much?" She frowns, but her own curiosity is egged on by Quinlys' enthusiastic manner. "What was she like as a Weyrwoman? Did people respect her? Did she do good things? Were you there when-- when she was poisoned?" Quinlys' nod is quietly sympathetic. "I miss Olly as a tiny little thing, too, sometimes. But your relationship grows and changes, too. You really do become equals; you both bring something to the table. It's nice." Or, at least, the bluerider finds it so! "I don't think people knew what to do with her, as Weyrwoman. She stepped on a lot of toes. She... wanted to change too much, I think, or that's how people saw it, anyway. She tried, but she wasn't a great Weyrwoman. I think she'd've been happier, not being one." Of the former Weyrwoman's death, she only nods: yes. It's a solemn thing; a sad thing. The younger woman sits back, her arms slipping off the table and her hands folding in her lap. She studies Quinlys quietly, her mouth pursed while she thinks; about all the words they've just exchanged, and the truths, and possibly perceptions. "Is it bad to want to change thing? I can hardly fault tradition, but some things--" Farideh gives her head an almost imperceptible shake. "Do you think people were relieved when she was murdered? Certainly not because she was murdered, but because she wasn't-- here." Quinlys hesitates, but only for a moment or two. "Yes," she says. "They were. A lot of people were. It was horrifying and awful, and I still can't believe he could do something like that, but-- people saw her as a threat to our way of life." The bluerider bites down on her lip, chewing at the dry skin there for several more seconds before she adds, "Change, in and of itself, isn't a bad thing. As long as you don't push too hard, too fast. You have to sell people on change; on why it is a good thing." "Do you think someone might try to do that to Irianke if she-- changes too many things, tries to make it more like Igen?" Farideh speaks quietly, but her face is earnest; this particular question seems to hold some weight, for her. Something in Quinlys' expression tightens. She pauses, taking in-- and then releasing-- a deep breath before she's able to come up with an answer. "Do I think someone would take it that far? It's unlikely. Would she face rebellion? Probably. High Reaches isn't Igen. We can all learn from each other, but-- you can't turn one place into a different place. She'd fail." Beat. "Do you think she'll try?" It's a genuine question, if a bristled one. "No, High Reaches isn't Igen," Farideh agrees, quietly. "I don't know. I don't know anything about how to run a Weyr or what goes into it. I have to learn, still. I know Nimae is a strong woman. A clever woman. A woman that knows how to get what she wants. I can't think Irianke hasn't been influenced by that, but she's-- strong in her own right, in a different way." She pauses, to look down at her hands. "I don't think she would do what isn't right for the Weyr." "I hope so," isn't quite damning; Quinlys does sound like she means it, like she's willing to trust Farideh in this, for all her own misgivings on the subject of Irianke. "If she intends to fire Giorda, though... that's the first thing Iolene did, pretty much. She fired the headwoman and all her staff, and only later hired them back. It might... Well." She stops. "You'll learn. I'll teach you everything I can, and I'm sure Irianke will do the same. You'll get multiple perspectives. Maybe not on the specific weyrwoman-y stuff, but on the rest, definitely. You're going to be fine, Farideh." A long pause follows Quinlys' assurances, and then there's a quiet releasing of breath. "Quinlys, I'm like her." Farideh doesn't look ashamed, but her features are set, determined. "What do you mean?" Quinlys doesn't understand. "Iolene," Farideh specifies. "She was an exile, but she was-- Blooded. Lord Devaki's blood." She takes a breath and is quick to clarify that, "I'm not related to Lord Devaki. Thankfully." Quinlys still doesn't get it, not at first, and then, there it is: the sudden dawning of understanding, and the furrowing of brows. "You're... Blooded?" Farideh manages to only look sad, if sympathetic. "I am. Igen's Blood. Not major-- my family's line diverged from Lord Joremy's a while back. I don't imagine that if people knew, they would be happy." She tightens her hands' hold on each other, and stares intently at Quinlys. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but you, at least, should know." Quinlys' mouth draws together, tighter and tighter, as she works through this bit of information; that it looks like she's sucking on a lemon may not help the situation. Finally, however, she exhales. "Is it going to cause a problem? Are they going to be pissed? Repercussion-level pissed?" The rest... clearly, she's still finding her place in all of that. "No," Farideh says easily, her mouth taking on a pleased curve. "Lady Yuliye wrote me. She congratulated me on my successful Impression. My mother, I am positive, is beside herself, but given Igen has already sent their approval-- what can she do?" If she is dismayed at Quinlys' lemon sucking face, she doesn't show it; maybe those face-facade skills have come back to her after all. A nod confirms Farideh's answer, as, slowly, Quinlys' expression begins to relax. "Well--" she begins, on an exhale. "That's something. Okay." Beat. "... you were a laundress." That's the point at which she begins to laugh. Which... is good? Maybe? "It's-- something. I expect Irianke anticipates my strengths and weaknesses from that, though, she thinks more of me than what I am. A silly little Hold girl, Blooded or not." Farideh leans forward when Quinlys laughs, and smiles a bit conspiratorially. "A laundress. No one would have expected that, right?" She eases back, then, and runs a hand through her hair. "A Blooded laundress turned goldrider-- you do realise it sounds like a harper story?" Quinlys doesn't pause to allow Farideh to respond, and her expression, now, is warmer, and less unhappy; she's getting used to the idea, perhaps. "She sees potential, I imagine. As she should. You know Bloods better than most of us; how they think. That's useful." Then, blandly, "And not in a we-need-to-watch-out-not-to-become-like-Rone kind of way." "Does it? And what happens next? Roszadyth rises? I become Weyrwoman? Cadeoth catches? Me and K'del fall in love, Ali forgotten in the dust?" Farideh actually does laugh at the mental imagery she's conjured. "Hardly. I did what I thought I had to do, and how could I guess what was waiting at the end?" She scrunches her nose at mention of Rone. "It may be, or it could be a disadvantage, or both." Her eyes flit to the barracks, and then back to Quinlys. "I'm glad you haven't disowned me yet, for all of my misgivings." Quinlys, too, begins to laugh, though she trails off quickly, considering the rest of what Farideh says more seriously. Well. A little more seriously, given her next comment is, "Yet. Might change my mind. You never know." It's archly said, that little smile more than emphasising her lack of seriousness. "Most things result in advantages and disadvantages both. The key is learning how to use them so that you emphasise one and not the other." "I will endeavor to never fall out of favor, then." Farideh is still grinning when she pushes her chair back and stands. "Don't be too hard on Irianke-- she didn't choose to come here herself, and given the chances I doubt she would have, but she has a lot to learn about you too. I hope--" Her lips press together, and she takes a couple steps to the sides. "This is my home, now. Hers too. Yours. Ours." To excuse herself, she nods, "Roszadyth is awake." She only lingers a few seconds more, before she's walking away. "I--" begins Quinlys, too quickly for there to have really been enough time for her to consider what Farideh has said. But she stops; perhaps she's considering now. Or perhaps she's simply going to watch the weyrling depart, mouth still slightly open. Hopefully she'll close it eventually. |
Comments
Edyis (00:30, 3 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
Harper songs indeed!
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