Logs:Not Very Chatty
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| RL Date: 30 January, 2010 |
| Who: Aleis, Madilla, Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla (briefly) runs into the Weyrwoman, as well as newcomer Aleis. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 11, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond. Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off. An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl. The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. Tiriana's brows lift when Aleis backtracks that little bit. "You mean what? Because that seemed pretty plain to /me/," she points out. "If you're going to insult a place, might as well stand by it." She takes a sip of her own drink and sets it back down on the table this time, as though she's not trying to lecture a woman nearly twice her age. "What are you doing here?" "I mean I live here," Aleis clarifies. She has a wine glass. And a carafe partially full of the same, which is probably what's with the place-insulting here. "Tillek wines may be what they are, but I do live here. At the moment, what I'm doing is having a drink. As a general rule--don't you have to approve these things? I'm the transfer. Out of Benden? I suppose that might have been the Weyrleader. Such as, ah, he is." She sits back in the chair by Tiriana, takes another drink, picks up the carafe to freshen up her glass. Likely utterly unaware of anything she might be dropping herself into, Madilla makes her entrance from the Snowasis, carrying her mug-of-something in both hands, and walking exceptionally carefully: it's hot /and/ full. She gets a fair few steps out the door before the fairly unmistakable sound of one of Tiriana's lectures, apparently, catches her attention - and then she freezes, not, by her expression, out of any particular nervousness, but probably more likely out of silent interest. Her thoughts are otherwise hard to gauge, her silent contemplation continuing throughout Aleis' speech. "Yes, I got that," Tiriana answers, rather more snippily this time. "And now you insult my Weyrleader?" Nevermind she does so on a daily basis. "You must just make friends wherever you go. Yes, he handles rider transfers, what with the wings and all; I handle the lower caverns." Their audience of one is not noticed at present, Tiriana too busy trying to size up the older woman. Only a hint of a smile there. "Didn't say anything, did I? Perfectly nice young man, I'm quite sure. Your young man? No reason to be so prickly." Aleis raises her glass, looking at it before she drinks again, this time a slightly longer draught. "Different everywhere, I imagine." She's the one to notice the audience in question. "Looking for a chair? Sure there's another one around here somewhere... or other. S'pose they weren't ready for so many folks outside, nice day or not." Being addressed sends a pink flush to Madilla's cheeks, and for a moment, she looks more inclined to stammer her excuses than to approach. But as her mouth opens, she pauses, and then, adjusting her mug, she takes a few more steps further. "I didn't mean to interrupt. But if there is a--" free chair somewhere, apparently, though immediate casting around leaves her more awkward again. Then, hurriedly, "Weyrwoman. Rider. I should leave you to it. Your--" Argument? Discussion? "Conversation." "My Weyrleader," which is about as claimy as Tiriana's going to get, for K'del. Still, he ought to know by now he's going to have to take what he can get. She continues to eye Aleis with suspicion, though Madilla's voice is enough to pull her attention away, at least. Tiriana peers at her, offers, "Madilla. Do /you/ need something?" It's all so very long-suffering. "Your Weyrleader. Of course." Casting about for a moment, Aleis finally does catch sight of a chair, and sets her glass down long enough to go over there and pull it over to the table. "Think nothing of it. Here we are." There may be something missing in the chain of authority, here. The brownrider sits again, wraps fingers around where the bowl of the glass meets the stem. Madilla looks... confused, mostly, glancing from one woman to the other, particularly as Aleis heads over to get that chair. "Thank you," she says, finally, though her gaze drifts rapidly back towards Tiriana as though making sure she has permission to join the pair. Or perhaps just determining whether she wants to. While she's looking at the Weyrwoman, though, she has the opportunity to say, "Need something?" She frowns. "No? Does no one ever... say hello without needing something?" "Not... so much, no?" Tiriana cocks her head as though this idea is completely foreign to her. She even glances to Aleis to see what she makes of this--except no, they're not really friends so she ends up just frowning at the other rider. "Or if they do, they seem to spend the rest of it trying to insult all my people, but. So. Er... how are you, Madilla?" Small talk is so hard. A quirk of the brow in Tiriana's direction. "I didn't insult anybody, unless you count the wine, and you're the one who called it *shit*, so I feel pretty comfortable on that score." Aleis holds the glass aloft, sniffs it. "Which is a sight worse than it really calls for. It may be a bit... acrid, but it's a long way from excrement. And it does what it needs to do. So it's Madilla, is it?" The older woman's eye then falls on the healer. "Nice to meet you. Aleis." Madilla looks genuinely horrified at this idea, that no one ever just wants to say hello, never mind that it's entirely possible she wouldn't have done so herself, had she not been noticed. Shaking her head sadly, she sets down her mug, then takes the helpfully provided seat, hands returning to the mug as soon as she's seated. What she says, regardless of expression is a quiet, but nonetheless sincere, "I'm very well, thank you. And you, Weyrwoman?" Her gaze slides off towards Aleis as she adds, "Madilla, yes. Journeyman Healer. Well met, Aleis. I do apologise for the-- interruption." Shit wine or no. Which /definitely/ gets no comment. "I'm fine," is Tiriana's short answer to Madilla. It is, apparently, the last thing they're going to get out of her for now, because she finishes off the last sip or so of her drink and stands. "I'm going to get a refill," the Weyrwoman announces then, as she turns to disappear inside. "S'fine," is Aleis' take on interruptions. "She's not... very chatty, is she? Your Weyrwoman. Our. Takes some getting used to, that." So does the wine, but she's making good inroads on it nevertheless, like now it's a matter of proving that yes, indeed, she can tolerate this Tillek swill they pass off as drinkable here. "Nice to meet you at any rate. Have you been here long? Hardly look old enough for Journeyman, if you don't mind my saying. Though they all look younger every turn, I notice." A few beats marks Madilla's pause, but her answer is even enough. "No," she agrees. "She's not, terribly. Not much, anyway, most of the time." Her gaze lifts from following the Weyrwoman indoors to consider Aleis again, a smile hinted at in the corners of her mouth. "She's easier to deal with when you understand her a little more, I found. I've been here four turns, since I was fifteen. Apprentice, though, until this past summer - which makes my youth reality and not just... impressionistic?" She tries out the word and frowns; it evidently doesn't quite suit what she meant, though she lets it stand nonetheless. "Nineteen." Aleis tries out the number, shakes her head with something like amazement. "Faranth save us. Well. Congratulations on that at any rate. Nineteen turns ago I was... nineteen myself, so figure that." She manages to smile, at least, although there's that little wistful tinge to it. "I suppose I won't have to deal with her much myself. The Weyrwoman. I only really need to worry about the Weyrlingmaster, who seems... sensible enough. I think. And whoever else is assisting, whoever that turns out to be." Madilla seems not to particularly mind being an even half Aleis' age, favouring the other woman with a smile. "Thank you," she says, as she reaches to draw the over-full mug towards her mouth, carefully getting it there without spillage. A dainty sip makes it more manageable, and lets her continue. "I don't knot the Weyrlingmaster terribly well, but I imagine-- I believe she does have a reputation for being sensible. And likely to choose sensible assistants, too, one would guess. It's not really my area of expertise, but I would /assume/." She pauses, then adds, "I should say: welcome to High Reaches. If you're /so/ very newly arrived, that's good timing for you, isn't it?" A noise of agreement as Aleis takes another drink. "I believe that was the point. Rather than transitioning into... doing something else entirely for a time, only to change again once there was a clutch on the sands. I'm just early, that's all, this way. But thank you. Haven't been a lot of welcomes exactly so far." She glances out over the bowl, and then in towards the Snowasis, after where Tiriana headed. "Easier transition, this way. Healer back at Benden said it would be." It may well be that mention of the Benden healer draws curiosity from Madilla, but she's polite enough not to show it, only nodding shortly in response to what the brownrider says. "I suppose that makes some sense," she decides. "You've a little time to get used to the place, before there are weyrlings, but no doubt there will be things for you to do? Preparations?" She looks apologetic; clearly, she doesn't know much about any of this. "I'm sorry there haven't been a lot of welcomes. People here /are/ nice, it's just that... some of them are complicated, and it means they lose their manners a little." But she'll look disapproving all the same. "Mostly folks seem distracted." Aleis gestures with her glass out towards the bowl. "Seem to have arrived amid... quite a lot of other things going on. More important things, I'm forced to admit, than me." Then she looks back, drinks again, sets the glass down. Looks at the carafe like she's about to fill it back up again, then seems to decide against it. "But, yes. Preparations. Mostly learning how things are done here, it always does vary a bit from Weyr to Weyr, Weyrlingmaster to Weyrlingmaster. You've never heard of Benden *losing* any of theirs, for instance, the way Fort's done lately. But I'm sure they have their reasons for how they do it." Actually, she doesn't sound very sure of that at all. Madilla's gaze, almost unconsciously, lifts upwards, and she swallows. "It has been a difficult time," she admits, quiet, and for the moment, very serious. "I'm sure Iovniath's clutch will do something to lighten the mood, though." She pauses to take another sip from her own drink, then sets it back on the table, holding her hands close to it. "Losi-- oh, yes. No, I did hear about that. Fort does seem to be having luck almost as bad as High Reaches', at the moment. How do our methods seem to you? A good friend of mine has been an Assistant these last two clutches, so perhaps I'm biased, but from the outside, it seems to run well." That gets a derisive snort--"I don't believe in bad luck. Things happen because people make them happen. Bad things happen when people screw up." Or when meteors fall out of the sky--Aleis may not have really had time to filter that one through properly yet, she did get here after the fact. "I think things are sound, here. Generally sensible. Maybe the rules a bit more lax than I'm accustomed to, but the results don't seem to be generally problematic. No untoward rate of injury or death, anything like that." Like she'd halfway expected to find one. "I won't say that I disagree entirely," admits Madilla, thinking about it. But her eyes are back on the bowl, and staring upwards. /She/ has no such distance from the meteors. "I think it's just that when one thing happens after another, and most of them are bad, it /feels/ unlucky." She blinks, hard, then ducks her gaze back down, as though this will clear her head of all such thoughts. "I'm glad to hear that," she adds, genuinely, though it's definitely an afterthought. That's when Aleis finally elects to pour the last of the carafe into her glass. It's so much easier to cope that way, Tillek or not. "It's not that everything's exactly how I'd do it," she adds reflectively after another drink. "But I'm not Weyrlingmaster, after all, so that's bound to be the case every time. Results. Results matter. Not that they matter as much as they used to. Still, have to keep up the tradition. For posterity's sake. And whatnot." Madilla is silent for a moment, then says, "And because some of these weyrlings might teach weyrlings who might-- well, all the way down the line, it'll matter again, one day." She considers this further for a moment, playing idly with the handle of her mug, then, sidestepping, adds, "Were you Weyrlingmaster at Benden? I suppose that would really be a difficult adjustment: getting used to /not/ having that control, after having it." "Ah, no." Aleis looks down at the table, for a moment inspects one fingernail. "Assistant. For... a long time. I was next in line, I think. At one point. The right hand, as they say. But then things happened and we ended up on... I guess you might call it an extended furlough." She shrugs, then, and drains the rest of the glass all at once. "But we all have our own ideas, regardless of how much we get to enforce them, hmm?" Madilla doesn't ask, though for a brief moment or two, there's actual curiosity in her expression and stance, something not even she can always be polite enough to push aside. "I'm sorry," she says, though for which part, and why, it's all a little harder to define. "I... suppose we do. Though." And she pauses. "I think I'm more of a follower than a leader. Or teacher. But I do understand the... idea of it." The brownrider smiles, for that. "You never got stuck taking directions from somebody you thought was stupid? Made to follow rules you thought were dumb? Well. Lucky you. I've gotten stuck with a few humdingers before. Like they'll let any moron with enough seniority do the job. But this..." Aleis shakes her head at last. "Doesn't look like that sort of place, so I'm glad enough. Well. Impossible to really know 'til it's happening, though." Madilla hesitates, but says only, when she finally opens her mouth, "I've generally found rules are there for a reason, and my teachers have been-- effective." It's not quite outrightly stiff, but there's a note of something awkward there. "I suspect," she adds, hastily, making up for it, "it's something to do with the way I was raised. Duty first. I hope this isn't-- like that for you. Here. I hope you're right; I think so. From what little I do know." The thing about wine is that it doesn't last forever. Aleis seems to be reflecting on that fact as she looks into her empty glass. "Duty. Yes. Important, that. Doesn't seem to stop people from being morons, though. Any rate. I'd best go or I won't have time for a proper bath before bed. Time difference still hasn't completely sunk in, yet, especially with it dark so early this time of year." A little smile marks Madilla's reaction to 'morons'; she doesn't seem to disagree, whatever duty might otherwise say. "It is quite an adjustment," she agrees, with a glance upwards, though not, this time, towards the bowl itself. "It was nice to meet you, Aleis. I hope the settling in process is smooth." "Yup." Least there doesn't seem to be any particular concern for that in Aleis' voice. Although funny how a few drinks can do wonders for those sorts of concerns. Aleis picks up her glass and the empty carafe. "If I can survive the wine here, figure I can survive most anything," she says with a grin. "Nice to meet you. Yeah. Sure I'll see you around sooner or later, place like this. Take care." And then she's off to deliver both back to the bar before she heads off for that bath. Another quick smile, and a bob of the head, and then Madilla turns her own attention back to her drink, not watching after the brownrider as she leaves. Her expression is thoughtful, though, as she considers the steadily cooling liquid. |
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