Logs:I Find Your Lack of Ambition Disturbing
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| RL Date: 15 April, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, Mave |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Mave comes to Aishani to request space to hold her play. Aishani has questions, some that have nothing to do with the play. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 7, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. |
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| It's a beautiful day outside, but the only thing that might indicate that inside, in the records room, is the light that slants in from the doorway, motes of dust dancing in the beams. A few of the scribes are lost to that light, staring off into it with wistful expressions - if only they could be out in it. Aishani seems to be taking a few quiet meetings at the table nearest the door, just finishing up with the man who seems to be the scribe on duty, who's telling the Weyrwoman in hushed tones, "There were crumbs, ma'am. We have to make some sort of announcement." The goldrider seems to be trying to smooth over the situation, offering, "We can put up a notice, have a word with the regulars. There's no need to tell the whole Weyr." The scribe seems displeased, but willing to accept the compromise. Mave's eyeing the light as well, in the last seconds of conversation between Acting Weyrwoman and scribe, but her focus is undoubtedly ahead-- where the line of people before her has greatly diminished. Mouthing a few prepared words, her arms holding a small binder of hides, she tucks a toe against the stone and turns her ankle back and forth idly, wiling away at the floor with a sandal. Nerves linger along her spine, and maybe she's standing straighter than usual, but she's not drowning in anxiety, which allows her movements to ring impatiently, rather than anxiously. Hearing what could be wrap-up words with the current resident, she glances that way, wary to face forward until the deal seems absolutely done and she won't be looking like an eavesdropper-- nevermind that she heard words to tell her she doesn't have to worry about overhearing. Once the scribe is settled and sent back off to work, no doubt to glare at Aishani for speaking too loudly for her meetings, the goldrider has a faint, quirky little smile in his wake - then looks over to Mave, brows arched questioningly, apparently her last meeting for this part of the day. As the fact that it's this specific young woman sinks in, she begins to also look somewhat curious. Her smile widening briefly, she has a fluid gesture to the seat across from her, now empty. "Please, sit. What can I do for you?" Her sharp gaze marks the binder, the moving sandal. "Thank you, Acting, ma'am." Grabbing the back of the chair with one hand released from the binder, Mave swoops down onto the seat. The binder hits the edge of the table and she slides it up with a snap of her wrist. "I'm here on behalf of myself and my director and cast," it's all very official sounding for a fifteen-turn-old, whose strict business sense is offset by her wide eyes and spattering of freckles. Wriggling on the chair seat to get comfortable, she's akin to a child playing at a role, instead of a-- what is she claiming to be? "To request-- er, ask," her gaze falters, dropping in tune with her eyebrows as she course-corrects to sound softer, "for a portion of the, umm. Bowl to use for set-up and performance." Here, she spares no time too-quickly flipping open the binder, running on an obvious script in her head for how to best present this. The papers she lands on are a rough sketch of the bowl, with two areas circled. Her fingers splay over one, "Either the eastern section here, by the lake shore, or in the west next to the Snowasis' patio. See, I've determined how much space we'd need, so we wouldn't take up too much room, but there'd still be enough of a block for traffic and people to see something's going on, and both provide ample places afterward for drinks or such to be served..." How she's addressed doesn't seem to start things out on the right foot, really; Aishani's expression shifts from pleasant interest to polite neutrality, one fine brow lifted. "You're quite welcome," she replies, tone a degree cooler than it might have been a moment ago. But something about Mave's demeanor and words both have her lingering between bemused and entertained, considering the resident's words with a head-tilt. Dark eyes move down to regard the map for a long few beats, before looking up to meet the younger woman's gaze with her own. "Why do you want to do this?" It's not accusatory in the least, simply asked, but it may be unexpected. It's much too far out of Mave's range to sense differences between pleasant and neutral, leaving her too official while too young stature in play as she flattens her hand against the binder then withdraws it to her lap. "The children's play in the caverns a while back went over well. Some organized entertainment gives people... well, some have been working for sevendays now to prepare this material," her chin bobs towards the binder, where other papers sit beneath the Weyr map, "So it gives them something to focus energy and, umm. Like, their minds on. If you've something to do, then you're far less likely to get into mischief. Least, that's what I was taught." Her mouth tugs wryly; a glimpse of a child harvested in those fat cheeks, "Then there's the, well. Coming together," she raises her hands to slip all her fingers together, forming a wall, "Of seeing something you've worked on done. And just plain entertainment for others." "For sevendays," Aishani notes, with interest. "So you've come to me at a point where, if I say no, I will look like a terrible person that hates fun and children and all things that bring joy to the world?" Her tone is dry, resigned - of course Mave has, why wouldn't she. Leaning forward to draw the binder closer and look at the map, tap the patio with a long finger, "All good reason for others, for yourself, accomplishment?" A beat, as she regards the girl. "It seems like there's... not enough keeping you occupied, perhaps. Have you thought of doing something else? Apprenticing?" Hardly judgmental, only... wondering. "I'd like to see the script." A blankness settles over Mave's face, permeating those hard-practiced adult creases; her lower lip drops in silent disagreement, a kind of gaping half-horror, before she can wait till Aishani's finished to sputter, "Well- no! Or-- I mean," has she? The thought needs to root, to dig into her brain and it's her eyebrows doing the digging as they drive well-worn paths to her nose. Indecision as to her own intentions has left her silent while the weyrwoman continues, that lip remaining lightly ajar until she thins her mouth for a measured exhale. "The script's in there." Seems the easiest; her hand joins Aishani's finger to nudge a few of the pages and show her where, without flipping to it. A little tap's been inserted that also marks the spot, a strip of hide, its tip dyed blue. "And I do all my chores. Everyone makes sure to do their chores first, ma'am. I only... I only meant to come to you at a point," clearly borrowed words, tread carefully though she's confident in her genuineness, "where it seemed feasible. I'm sure," she speaks plainly, not with self-pity, "there's a whole basket of reasons to say 'no' I haven't thought of. This was just the one I went with." The reaction is probably genuine enough for Aishani to bypass any particular suspicion, but she slides a glance over to Mave while the would-be producer considers and she pulls the binder closer yet to flip to the marked page. As she skims, she notes, a bit distractedly, "It's not the chores I'm concerned about; I don't think you're slacking off, Mave, or causing anyone else to do so. I just wonder if you could be putting this energy toward something that would..." Her gaze flickers up momentarily, to gauge the girl's expression before, "Make yourself a living. Unless you're off with the Renais when they go." Not that she'd see that as an issue, given her background. "If you can put this together, there are certainly other things you could be doing, even at the Weyr. If you'd like." The script pages in front of Aishani read quickly as comedy-- plays on words, as well as physical gags like a man stabbing himself in the foot; while a 'renegade' captain exists, his lines are easily some of the best, and not those of a 'villain'. Tucked in with those pages are notes, perhaps by Mave herself, about necessary arrangements for scenes. After the script, another colored tab: yellow, denoting names of those currently involved and their roles. When quested for, Mave's expression reads as neutral interest, pure curiosity to hear the conclusion of Aishani's wondering. "Off with the-- ?" as it's suggested, she echoes, low, under the weyrwoman's words and cuts herself off. Hands grate against her thighs as half-fists and she leans forward till her arms rest against the table edge. "Oh, I like this," she announces excitedly-- missing the point. An arm frees to wiggle her finger at the yellow-tabbed cast list, "Actually, the Renais are another thing," the hand lowers, "If they can use the play to then advertise their wares and services afterward, they could stick around longer and everyone could enjoy a little -- uhh." She loses the word, eying the ceiling before settling for, "Money. Moving." All Aishani's likely concerned about is propaganda - even if Mave doesn't look or act like an instigator, one never knows. At least, one who's constantly on guard never knows. There's some little interest in the notes, but nothing as much as the text itself, and when the resident points to the cast list, she arches a brow across the table, with that odd really? expression on her face. She flips over to the tabbed page nonetheless, seeming unsurprised by E'sren's or his family's involvement - she considers it for a moment before looking up to the girl and telling her flatly, "You could be making more money too. Aren't you interested in a real job rather than filling your time with this?" A tap of fingers to the folder. "Not that I disagree with the purpose, or I'll say no. But honestly. Think about your future." Her lack of ambition is, apparently, disturbing. If anything, the theme of the play is a heavy-handed joke at the main character for taking his 'sense of duty' too seriously, and it all ends incredibly peacefully, with both holder lead and renegade lead living happily ever after in the same Hold. Considering the current conversation, it's entirely possible that a good chunk of the script's sly word choice humor went over Mave's head. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't understand. I'm a caverns worker." Read as: job. Caverns need workers, after all. "Someone has to do it." Her contentment obvious, in a bizarre balance with her desire to do-- the play, at least. "Though, if the Weyr would chip in to help pay those who offered their expertise, I'd be much obliged for the support." Her lips crack in a proud smile, "There's so many talented people here." "If that's what you're happy with, then..." Aishani trails off, offers Mave a shrug, and agrees easily, "Certainly, someone has to do it. There's someone needed for every job." That's what they say, anyway. Still flipping through the binder idly, gaze jumping around the pages as she speaks, "I'm not sure that the Weyr precisely has the marks to be funding projects, however, if you confer with the Headwoman, I believe you could fulfill some of your needs by borrowing from stores and taking care; you're also welcome to ask your audiences for donations for performances, or afterward. If it were near the patio, I imagine some sort of percentage of sales during performances could be diverted toward that cause as well." Closing the binder, business-like now that talk has turned to money, "Do you mind leaving this with me, just until tomorrow? It won't go further than my weyr, then back to you." A second, Mave's uneasy with the prospect, her teeth filing across her lower lip but, reaching that tip, she releases with a soft tch and "Of course not!" Her hands flex near her stomach, feeling strange to be lacking the wide-bound burden. Though no page will Aishani find that's not purposeful; no idle, teenaged scribblings. Surely, there were some, but they've been filtered out for this presentation to her, and she wastes no time of the weyrwoman's. Every problem cited has a person's name who could solve that problem. "I'll see to all of that, then, thank you, ma'am." The hard bob of her head loosens a strand of curly auburn hair and she tucks it back swiftly. "Of course, if there was anything I could do for the Weyr... I wouldn't presume to be able to, but I'd certainly want to know." There is some little sympathy for that unease; perhaps that's why Aishani notes, "I do see that it was a lot of work." Just so Mave knows that she knows what's been handed over. "I just want to know what you intend to do, what it might require for how long. I like to understand. And Iesaryth would like to look as well, honestly. She likes to see how people plan differently." Another lift and drop of shoulders - it's not something that fascinates her, but why not indulge the queen? For her last, there's a slight smile, and she merely asks, "Is it presumption to have faith in one's abilities? I don't know about that. Let's... see how this goes." There's a moment where she considers before, "There are a lot of talented people here. It seems a shame so few have a say in the direction of things." A beat, and then a brief smile. "Thank you for bringing this to me." "Iesaryth does?" This fascinates Mave, in turn, whose lip-nibbling turns into the stylings of a smile, "Well, my respects to Iesaryth. I hope she finds it all..." a little hand-wave, "satisfactory." In looking back to Aishani, a hesitance flickers in the teen's eye. She does not indulge. The thought's gone as soon as it started, switched out like a blanket thrown over glow. Her own shrug as she, chin leading backwards in a slight, unconscious rejection, considers. "Oh, I don't know... I hear a lot of says in the caverns. About little things and big things," she's saying-- another say-- absently, slipping out of the chair, "Lots of things that, without, the Weyr would ground to the direction of a halt. It's just-- perspective? Levels. Too many voices on every level and nothing on any level gets done." Afterward, she bites at her cheek to hear her saying, to a goldrider, but it's said, and so she excuses herself, grateful on more than one level to be out of the dusty records. "I like perspective," says Aishani as Mave departs, with a quirk of lips. "And I will certainly send your regards. She'll find it interesting." As the younger woman heads out into the sunshine, she follows her with her gaze and sighs, perhaps a bit wistfully - and sets the binder aside carefully to go back to other work. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 16 Apr 2013 01:51:52 GMT.
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*giggles* I thought this was pretty funny in that Mave is just so... well, simple. Paranoia is kind of wasted on her, and it's cute. XD
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