Logs:No Wall Punching Required
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| RL Date: 9 September, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Mielline |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Irianke has a few things to discuss with her Acting Weyrleader. |
| Where: Council Chambers / Bowl / Weyrwoman's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'ren/Mentions, Edeline/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Lyeley/Mentions, R'vel/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
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| Another meeting is breaking up and Irianke sits, not in the head seat but to the side. She rifles through some papers, her goodbyes to some of the wingleaders she's closer to a bit distracted. B'ren's fingers pass over her shoulder and she shrugs it off, though not without an apologetic smile over her shoulder to the man with a gesture to the papers and then to Mielline, as if indicating this has to be done now. It might even convey the promise of later in her sorry-filled slate eyes. She waits until he's left, along with the others, before looking to Mielline. "Three weeks in. I think we're doing better than expected, all things considered." Mielline was a good choice for this position; she leads meetings as if she were born to it (in a way, perhaps she was), and has a confident, no-nonsense presence for all that she very plainly sees her role as that of a caretaker. As the wingleaders file out, she busies herself with sorting through her stacks of papers, dark eyes glancing up to consider Irianke only after the weyrwoman speaks. "Three weeks? Half the time, it feels like three months and the other half, mere days. But I'm satisfied; I like to think I'll hand these wings back in more-or-less the same condition as I received them." "More or less. There are a few adjustments I was thinking of that I wonder if you'd hear me out on, as a trial run, before I speak with K'del." Irianke considers one set of hides, the one under her left hand, and then shifts just as quickly to the stack under her right and sighs, the signature of Lady Edeline visible just beneath her wrist. One of Mielline's fingers twirls through one of her loose curls, twisting it again and again in a half-unconscious gesture that is a one tic she's never quite managed to suppress. "I'm listening," says the bluerider, eyes dropping towards that stack in answer to that sigh, her half-nod forming some kind of acknowledgement. But Irianke isn't quite so forthcoming as her eyes, on the signature, forces a grimace to her lips that won't be dislodged so easily. Her hand waves, waving off that earlier subject for later, slate eyes focused on this one, this hide, and then Mielline's face. "Let's go for a run. You can hear my thoughts on Tillek while we do. The energy burn will keep me from throwing a punch into a wall." "Deal," says Mielline. "I'd prefer not to be a witness to your broken hand, and besides, if you start, I might feel inspired to do likewise, and then what will we do?" She rises, untangling her finger but only so that she can start pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. "Shall I meet you outside in a few minutes?" "A few." Because there's just no way Irianke is running in the skirt, blouse combo she has on now, heels notwithstanding. She gathers up her hides and saunters out, and appears shortly in the bowl with her hair pinned out of her face, her clothes changed into something more serviceable for running, and some easy stretches down the steps to limber up her limbs. It takes Mielline a little longer, for she has further to go, but not much; in short order, she's dropped off in the bowl again by Corobith, who waits only long enough to see her safely onto her own two feet before shooting airborne again. "Ready," she says, as she approaches. "Towards the lake?" At least the weather is fine. Irianke nods her affirmation, and begins a slow paced jog, bent arms swinging at her side and her breathing starting to pick up gradually. "High Reaches should decline Searching in Tillek's region, but reach out to the Seacraft," smack dab in the middle of Tillek Hold, "And see if Craftmaster Lyeley is amenable to some negotiation, or amenable to general Search." For starters. "Fuck her. Fuck her hard," adds the goldrider viciously. "Agreed," is probably for that last point, for it comes too quickly for Mielline to have properly considered the rest, not to mention that so-obvious scorn. She continues for a face paces, largely focused on her running rather than the conversation except that, eventually, there's, "Is there a way for us to utilise any seacrafters who Impress? For-- storm rescue, obviously. Weather reports? Charts?" Beat. "Now I'm imagining dragons with fishing nets." "I have," Irianke considers Mielline a long moment, side ways, while still running (and not into anything), "I was waiting until K'del returned to make it a Weyrleadership discussion, but you might as well know. I have my assistants and headwomen looking into our craft contracts, current as well as those who Impressed." She lets that hang in the air, waiting to see what the acting Weyrleader makes of her thoughts, in between increased heavily paced breathing. Her speed has quickened too, for the subject of Edeline. Mielline looks, frankly, pleased. "Good," is her short answer, let out between breaths. "I've had a few former crafters in Snowdrift, and we've always tried to make use of their skills, but there's room for more. Especially if it means they're more likely to allow us candidates." She gives Irianke a glance, considering. "What do the crafts get out of it?" Pleased. So pleased. Irianke is pleased at how Mielline makes the leaps of logic and comes to the conclusion the Weyrwoman wanted her to come to. "I haven't come up with anything plausible yet that would appease the likes of the Masterherder," for one. "We'd pay them for the dragonriders to continue their training in what means they can, if the craft thinks they are or were capable crafters in the first place. Long term, it would relieve them of duties to the Weyrs the further the Interval progresses and allow the Weyrs to be self-sufficient in crafts until the next Pass when," Irianke slows down, adjusting her pace to accommodate her breathing better, "Dragonriders fly and fight." "So the crafts tithe partially," and Mielline seems amused by this, given Edeline's announcement, "in candidates. As it were." Of course, amusement is more difficult to express when one is breathing steadily, matching pace-for-pace with Irianke. Still. It's there; audible, visual, pleased. Irianke can't help the smirk at that, silent, other than her breathing, as she continues to keep pace with Mielline. Eventually, she inquires, "R'vel, your wingsecond, didn't he used to be a smith?" Mielline's ponytail bounces over her shoulder as she turns her head to glance at Irianke, answering that question with a nod before, "Mmm. Nearly Journeyrank, he was, but when searchriders came calling during the comet pass... you didn't much like to say no." Mielline would know, of course. "No," says the woman who wouldn't know, but she agrees with that negative nonetheless. "You may lose him to his craft then. Would it be a terrible loss? Do you have ideas for a suitable replacement?" Irianke suddenly stops, breathing uneven and does a few back lunges and stretches again. "Need a second," says the the younger woman. "And I'll need a new one." A new wingsecond, that is. Mielline drops back her pace, then comes to a halt, turning back to return towards the other woman. Her own breath is heavy, but not laboured. "Though I suspect he'll want to lead your little venture, not just join it. But to be honest... no. It's not something I've had to give a lot of thought to, since R'vel has been doing me just fine. If it happens, I'm sure I'll find someone. My wing is full of capable people." Irianke shakes her limbs loose and rolls her shoulders back and forth. "Join me for a drink in my weyr? You can use my baths too if it pleases you." But a drink first. "Are you sure B'ren won't be waiting for you in desperate anticipation?" Mielline's tease is offered warmly, and gets promptly followed up by a nod. "I won't turn it down. Need to cool down, anyway," and walking to her weyr will certainly help with that. "Hardly. We're not weyrmated." Then, Irianke is silent as they walk, it's not unusual for the weyrwoman to be quieter once the work out is done. Upon reaching the weyr, Irianke pours out two goblets of wine and extends one to the acting Weyrleader. "R'vel for wingleader of a crafters wing?" The goldrider muses over this, as if it were a new idea, the wing, the person for wingleader. "Would K'del agree you think?" Back at the weyr, Mielline doesn't sit, but accepts the goblet and paces, though perhaps that's as much to continue her cool down as for any other reason. "He'd want the position," she tells the weyrwoman, without needing to think twice. "K'del, though... as long as it's not presented as a done deal. R'vel's qualified. He's," Mielline is frank, "probably the best qualified wingsecond we've got, crafter-wise. I know he maintains ties, too." "Does he?" Irianke looks interested in this, moving to her table, where her papers from the meeting still are, and makes a quick notation on one. "No, no, of course not. K'del should have some say, even if he only thinks he does." It's an important distinction that the goldrider seems unbothered by the morality of. "If you shold lose R'vel, perhaps you'd consider someone outside of Snowdrift to bring perspective, contacts," and a beat, it is inevitable, there's no way the goldrider can see around it, "Would be doing me a favor." "Thinks he does," repeats Mielline, forming those words without judgement, although there's certainly something thoughtful in her tone. But it's that last that has most of her attention, those dark eyes regarding Irianke over the rim of her goblet as she paces back, pausing at roughly the other side of the table. "An outsider," she repeats. "That would take some selling to some in my wing. But--" A gesture with one hand: go on. "I need someone I trust to watch over someone whom, I'm sure, the Weyr assumes I trust," says Irianke, her voice quiet, and the glass of wine held loosely in one hand. It shifts, circled by running her fingers around the sides. "And I think it's high time the criminal element in Glacier is dismantled." Mielline's silence lasts several beats longer than is, perhaps, polite. "Glacier," she says, finally, "has always been a difficult wing. No... that's not true. It has become more difficult. Taikrin is-- but you speak of the bluerider. Jo, is it? I don't know her well myself." Irianke acknowledges that their relationship is not an unknown to the Weyr's residents. Or well, the gossip of it. "I confess, I don't know what possessed K'del not to dismantle Glacier earlier, but," the goldrider sinks herself onto the edge of her chaise and crosses her legs primly at the ankles, her wine goblet coming up to sip from. "I think Jo is salvageable, and would do well to extricate herself from Glacier. At the same time, I am highly curious as to what she does with her time," a shred of a smile flickers, her expression suddenly sardonic, "And none of that jealous girlfriend bullshit, Mielline. You know me better than that by now I hope." "I can't imagine you jealous," Mielline promises Irianke, openly, and with a laugh. "More likely, some of your lovers jealous of the others. No--" She taps at her glass, thoughtful for a moment before she nods. "I could certainly keep her busy. With all the new additions we've had, of late, the wing is changing. It may be a good time to have new blood in the leadership. But," she cautions, tongue running over her lip as she pauses. "I'll need to get a feel for Jo myself before I can make any promises. And R'vel would have to get his promotion; he'd not tolerate a second wingsecond happily." Irianke looks at Mielline levelly, without that smile, without sarcasm or sardonicism. Frank. "Upon K'del's return." She lifts her glass to the wingleader and then brings it down to sip again. They spend the next few hours chatting leisurely, with business out of the way, taking a very platonic bath together, getting clean in private is such a luxury, and heading off to other meetings. |
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Comments
Squishy (00:07, 10 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Have I mentioned, Irianke is scary?
Alida (02:47, 10 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
I see that not only is Irianke planning for the (her?) future, but she's also trying to get Jo that increase in rank she sort-of promised. Iiiiinteresting. ;)
Jo (08:31, 10 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
(( clings to Glacier and SOBS )) This is a HORRIBLE IDEA D: (This was a VERY interesting read! Irianke is calculating. She promised rank, but she didn't promise WHERE, hehehe. Jo should've looked at all the angles of this equation before making such a deal! ;) )
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