Logs:Of Morals and Honor
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| RL Date: 22 April, 2006 |
| Who: Harley, Maja, Rathin, Shaylar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 26, Month 5, Turn 7 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 17:51 on day 26, month 5, Turn 57, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon. Candidate Barracks(#430RAJs$) This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons who will soon live here. For now, cots have temporarily been brought in for the candidates while they bide their time, waiting for the exciting day when the eggs will hatch. Men keep to one side and women to the other. At the foot of each cot lies a small press for storing clothing and other small items. The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl. Contents: Shaylar Candidate Cots Firelizard Perch(#8812JSae$) Obvious exits: Weyrling Training Room Bowl Hands braced behind his head, Rathin is swinging ever so slightly back and forth in his hammock-come-cot. He's whistling, not exactly quietly - enough that it'd disturb any occupants currently trying to rest, read or do anything that requires concentration. Shaylar is curled up on her cot, reading a book and dipping into a bag at her shoulder for bits of what look like dried fruit. She looks up occasionally and smiles at a candidate passing her cot. Harley gets a finger wave and an offer of the bag of dried fruit. Harley hmms and reaches in, grabbing a few pieces and murmuring a "Thanks Shaylar" as she heads towards her cot. She nibbles on a piece of citrus as she flops onto her cot and stretches out, offering a piece to Rathin. "Is anyone else totally exhausted?" she asks tiredly. Shaylar nods, "Yeah. Exhausted is a good word for it." She stretches on her cot, pointing her bare toes and yawning. "I think I fell asleep on some vegetables earlier," Rathin offers, forced to pause his whistling in order to answer. He flashes a bright grin at Harley, accepting the fruit with a salute of thanks. "I'd be careful about eating the stew tonight, I think I might've dribbled a bit." Shaylar chuckles softly, "Can't be any worse than the guck I fell in the other night in the Feeding grounds. I was scrubing for hours." She shudders. "The feeding grounds?" Rathin licks his fingers before turning slightly in his hammock in order to peer at Shaylar, causing the whole thing to swing back and forth. "Why were you in there? Sounds like a poor way to end one's life." Harley sticks a foot out to slow down the swinging, swaying of Rathin's cot. Not stop it, but to keep it from toppling over. The movement is automatic because her expression doesn't change a bit. It's possible she doesn't even realize she's done it. At Rathin's question, she can't help but giggle. "Dragon's don't eat people. Though I've seen one or two eyeing the runners. Shaylar rolls her eyes, "C'len decided to recruit those few of us in the barracks when a green flight was over. It was...messy." She wrinkles her nose. "Bits and pieces...whole herdbeast sucked dry. And we had to carry them around." Rathin shoots a grin at Harley in silent thanks, though whether she notices is debatable. "Sure, they don't eat people. But you think a hungry dragon is going to notice a teeny person in amongst the smorgasbord of food?" He exhales at Shaylar's explanation, noting, "For once, I'm -grateful- I was stuck doing inventory." Harley chuckles and even that sounds tired. "I think I went down to visit the babies that night and wound up working in the nursery all night. Two of the nannies were sick." She finishes the one piece of fruit and starts nibbling on another one. Shaylar nods, "Be very grateful." She smiles at Harley, "I'll take littles any day. Spitup and diapers are far better than entrails and dried blood." Eyes gleaming for a moment, Rathin starts up the swinging motion of his hammock again - deliberately this time. At the apex of the swing, closest to Harley, he tries to snatch the fruit from her. The talk of children doesn't at all seem to interest him. Harley blinks as the last piece of fruit is snatched out of her hand and once again, her foot automatically goes out to slow down the other cot from toppling over, though it's still swinging a bit. Just not as violently. She wrinkles her nose at Rathin and looks back around at Shaylar. "Pretty much the same thing, isn't it? Sticky, nasty, wet and smelly." She grins. "There's just no cute face there to talk complete nonsense to." Delighted by his success, Rathin chortles, nearly toppling out of the hammock as he swings back in the other direction. Luckily, Harley slows down his swing, and he shoots her another bright, guileless grin as he munches on the fruit, licking his fingers in satisfaction. "Stolen food always tastes so much better." Shaylar laughs a bit and nods, "I suppose you're right...the cute face makes it bareable." Harley chuckles tiredly again. "And being able to talk like an insane idiot in a language no one understands at all. And if they do, they're as insane as you are." She wrinkles her nose at Rathin again, though she's still smiling. "If you girls are going to continue talking girl talk around me, I'm going to have to do something dramatic like tie socks to my ears or something." Rathin eventually says, wryly. Harley blinks a bit. "Why tie socks to your ears? That doesn't do anything but make you look silly. And you can still hear." It's obvious she's taken the comment literally. Shaylar snorts softly, "That would definitely be amusing. You might try that on the sands tomorrow. It would make for a distraction for the hatchlings." "Because," Rathin drawls in a tone that should make it obvious, "It's just silly enough to get you talking about something -else-." He flickers his fingers towards Harley, as if to point out that's exactly what's just happened. His expression changes momentarily at Shaylar's mention of the sands, and he affects a casual shrug, though it's not so easy to do in the hammock. "I haven't touched any of the eggs. I doubt I'll be that much of a distraction no matter -what- I wear." Harley chuckles. "You could paint your skin purple and really stand out. I didn't touch the eggs either. I've been too busy. I think. I don't remember anything posted or being hollered for or anything. Could be I didn't hear it." Shaylar smiles a bit, "I touched the eggs. It was...great." It seems like she was going to say something else, but the wistful look on the candidate that walked past her makes her pause and say something else. She grins though, "I'm doing a research project with Satiet's help to see if touching has any bearing on Impression." Harley grins. "Well, you'll have two candidates here who can tell you what not touching them will do. How many got to touch them anyway?" "And have to wash all that paint off afterwards? Faranth no," Rathin scoffs. He half turns to watch Shaylar as she speaks, catching the look, but lets it pass without comment. "You're working with the weyrwoman, huh?" he asks, tone deliberately casual. "What do you think of her?" Shaylar hmms, "I think touching the eggs is wonderful, but I don't know that it could possible be linked to which candidate gets picked...unless the hatchlings can hear voices and recognize tonal sounds..." Yup, she's been thinking about it WAY too much. "The weyrwoman? Um...I always thought she was a bit...um...aloof? I was surprised when she offered to help me with the project. Maybe she's secretly curious herself. Or she just wants to prove a point." Rathin deliberately leans a little in order to get the slight swinging motion of his hammock started once more. "I don't know," he says, slowly, "I mean, I've heard some of the riders hint that it may even just be random." His voice is casual, though his gaze is flickering from Shaylar to Harley as he says it, as if to judge their reactions. A snort follows, amused, "Aloof is the polite way of putting it. She can be very convincing when she wants something." Shaylar shrugs, "That's what I want to find out. If there's a pattern. I want to study the records and such too. Old betting books and Weyr hatching logs. I'm sure there have to be some somewhere. Maybe I'll talk to the dragonhealers. Or maybe I'll just have to make that a project over the next few turns. Sad that there are fewer hatchings in the Interval. And less dragon eggs to study. Ah well, if I don't Impress, at least I have the candidacy to thank for the new interest." Harley just smiles at the comments about Satiet. "I've heard both as well among the riders when they're at meals in the living caverns. At least, lately I have. I honestly have no idea." Her eyes slide to the slightly swinging cot, watching the swing back and forth, back and forth as she gradually relaxes. "But," Rathin persists, obviously interested in the subject, "How do you quantify randomness as opposed to 'the dragons know'," the last echoed with deliberate intonation to suggest he's quoting someone. "I mean, the dragons could say that - shards, -I- could just as easily claim that. Despite all the Harper tales, I'm fairly sure dragons aren't omnipotent." Shaylar hmms softly at Rathin's words and dips her hand into the bag of dried fruit again, nibbling a handful of redfruit. When she's done, she ponders aloud, "Well, How often do you see a dragonrider pair that isn't perfect for each other? Or at least mostly perfect? There has to be something there. Or maybe it doesn't matter, really, and the bond is made with which candidate happens to look the smartest or the prettiest at the time. Then again, they say firelizard's have infinite memory, shared by all. Maybe dragons do too, and they know what to look for and what *not* to look for." Harley blinks as a sudden thought pops into her head. "Have any hatchlings *not* found their mate?" she asks curiously, shuddering at the very thought of it. Rathin's swinging slightly in his hammock, one arm propped behind his head, tipped so that he can see Shaylar. "I don't mean perfect for each other. I mean perfect to -be- a rider." His other hand waves, deliberately, "I don't know about you two, but I find that difficult to believe." He glances sidelong at Harley, frowning. Shaylar glances at Harley and then at Rathin, "Well, what do I know, really. S'why I'm studying it. Ask me again in twenty turns and maybe I'll have a decent theory." She grins a little at the thought. Then to Harley she says, "I heard that sometimes, really rarely, the hatchlings have actually gone into the stands for a mate. I think that might just be a rumor, though...one of the wingriders told me that was silly talk." Maja walks into the barracks, dabbing a towel on her forehead. Her hair is wet; it's collected into shiny strings on her back and on the sides of her face. She swings her towel over one arm, heading wordlessly to her cot. "Well, I'll tell you this much for free: the dragonriders don't know any better than you do." Rathin directs that to Shaylar, though it sounds more like accusation than any form of comfort. His eyes catch sight of Maja as she passes by, and he adds casually, "Perhaps, like us, they settle for whatever's in front of them at the right time." Shaylar snorts softly, but doesn't comment further on the knowledge of dragonriders. She gives Maja a wave on her way past. She holds out a bag with one hand, "Dried fruit?" Harley just lays on her cot, watching the slight swing of Rathin's with an expression that's growing more relaxed. It's not going to be too long before that swinging puts her to sleep. Having caught the tail end of the conversation, though Maja didn't react at the time, she does perk her head up to Rathin's 'casual' comment. "Like you, perhaps," she notes with a following snort, rubbing the towel in her hair before dropping it on her press. "Mm," she notes to Shaylar, heading towards the girl and peering at the fruit. "At least it isn't cake," she mutters, reaching in to grab a piece. "Like me," Rathin agrees easily with Maja's words, his eyes still on the tall candidate, though he seems oddly sober as he says it. Glancing towards Harley, he snickers quietly at her relaxed expression. "In a moment," he murmurs, "You're going to think you're a wherry, just listen to the sound of my voice..." Shaylar grins, "Cake's nice, too. But a little heavy before bed." After Maja's gotten a piece, so reaches over and puts the bag on top of her press, "Help yourself to whatever. I don't want to leave them out overnight. It'll attract vermin." She curls up on her cot and props her chin on her bright red pillow. She chuckles at Rathin's comment to Harley. "Now that'd be something to witness. As long as you don't let her near the feeding grounds, anyway." Harley's expression doesn't change for a few seconds, then a soft snicker emerges. "Not likely" in a soft sing-song voice emerges from her. She's still relaxed but her eyes have focused on Rathin. "I'm not that easy." she adds in the same sing-song. Maja's gaze immediately turns on Rathin and lingers there overly long-- her expression isn't quite readable, though her eyes are searching. After a moment of that, she glances down at the fruit in her hand. Of course, it's just as she's going to put the fruit to her mouth that Harley makes her remark, and with a quick smile and glance at the girl, Maja responds: "I'm glad of that." "Don't bet on it. Tomorrow you might wake up with the irresistible urge to nest." Rathin continues, a grin creeping across his features. "There may be eggs involved, as well." He pretends obliviousness to Maja's look, though there's a distinctly pleased expression about him that suggests he's well aware of it. Shaylar smoothes the cover on her pillow and just listens to the conversation around the barracks with a contented smile. Her jaw-splitting yawn a moment later says it all. She lets her eyes drift closed as the murmur of voices lulls her into an almost, but not quite, sleepiness. She mutters something about smooshed wherries and scrambled eggs. Harley moves only her eyes and she can just see Maja out of the very corner of them. Her own lips twitch when she hears Shaylar's mutter and her eyebrows disappear beneath her bangs again. "I think your having better luck with Shaylar, though I'm not sure there are any thoughts of nesting." Her voice is coming down from the sing song tones but is still fairly relaxed. "Or with someone in your bed," mutters Maja to herself, whose mind is clearly not on either wherries or eggs. Perhaps she's had a trying day. Shaylar's comment does distract her from chewing on her fruit piece, at least until the ex-guard notices Shaylar's unconscious state. Rathin continues swinging slightly in the hammock, "Maybe thoughts of breakfast," he concedes, with an amused look in Shaylar's direction. Maja's muttered comment, though, earns his attention, pale blue eyes shifting towards the former guard. "Why vixen, I'm flattered by the offer," he says, deliberately misinterpreting - or perhaps just mishearing - her words. "I'm -sure- there's enough room in my hammock if you want to join me," he adds, patting the rope structure pointedly. Shaylar is obviously still semi-conscious, because she giggles faintly at Harley's comment. The vixen comment makes one eye pop open. Possibly curious to see what Maja's response will be to that invitation. Harley's head turns a little as she too wants to see Maja's reaction to that one. She sighs softly. "Either he enjoys the attention" a pause "and bruises. Or he hasn't learned yet?" she asks the tall guard. Maja assumes Rathin's deliberate misinterpretation, her sharp gaze focusing on him again. "Offer?" She purses her lips, crossing her arms and approahing him. "Perhaps you would like both black eyes from me this time," she says in a quiet deadly voice. "All three," she loudly notes to Harley. Both eyes are open now, and Shaylar's sleepiness fades a bit in light of a possible pounding of Rathin. She glances over at Harley and raises one eyebrow, a slight crooked smile quirking her lips. "The vixen knows me all too well," Rathin quips on the heels of Maja's response to Harley; his tone is amused, attention likewise fixed on Maja. He continues swinging in his hammock, visibly unperturbed by the tall candidate's approach. "You wouldn't hit a poor, unsuspecting -innocent-, would you?" A brow flickers up as the ex-trader glances upwards. "Unlike me, you've got morals... or so you keep insisting." "I... thought I did, until I met you." Maja pauses a moment, perhaps as emphasis. "The urge to give you a good punch in the gut is overwhelming." Rathin's lack of reaction simply annoys Maja ever more, and her eyes narrow. "What stops me now is the fact you'd enjoy it. As would another unnamed woman." "I'm touched!" Rathin says, delightedly, touching his chest. "Or, more accurately, I've touched you, no?" Maja's latter comment earns a distinct tip of head, curiosity in his expression. "Another unnamed woman?" he echoes, precisely. "You mean, there's someone else who dislikes me as much as you? Say it isn't so! I thought you were the only one for me." Shaylar can't seem to decide if she's relieved or disappointed the Maja isn't going to hit Rathin. Finally, she punches her pillow a few times and lets her eyes slide shut again. Yup, she's sleeping. Not listening to the conversation going on at all. "And I've given you a black eye," Maja quickly quips, though not loud enough for the -entire- barracks to hear. Hopefully. "Satiet," she clarifies, letting herself be blunt. "Satiet would enjoy punishing me for it a bit too much. So I won't let either you nor her have the pleasure." "True," Rathin concedes, "But you were playing dirty, vixen. There'll be none of that next time." His smile widens, still swinging slightly back and forth in his hammock. "Satiet." The way Rathin says her name is far too familiar and drawn out, not the way someone would ordinarily say the name of the aloof weyrwoman. "She would enjoy it, I think. I'd rather not give her the satisfaction either. She has a tendency to take her victories with poor grace." "I've thoroughly noticed the complete lack of a 'next time'," Maja notes, tilting her head to the side. With most of the barracks asleep, her voice is now soft. "I've allowed her too many victories over me in the past. -- She has never had an ounce of grace within her, I think." Intrigued, and not trying to conceal it, Rathin sits up a little in his hammock, gaze still on Maja. "Have you indeed?" He muses, thoughtfully. "She's certainly a worthy opponent. It shouldn't surprise me that you two have clashed." A deliberate pause, in which he allows a smile to grow, gaze slightly distant. "Oh, you're wrong there. She has grace, when she wills it. She just doesn't bother most of the time." "Luckily, my own restraint has kept us from any physical fights," Maja reveals, though there is a small amount of amusement in her eyes. "And what special occasion would the weyrwoman muster up the energy for grace? Or person?" The ex-guard's eyes narrow slightly in a hint of an accusation. "I should be very interested to see a physical fight between the two of you." That should come as no surprise, nor should Rathin's very wide grin, gaze flicking away for a moment as he imagines it. The latter query, however, draws his eyes back towards Maja, with a low chuckle. "Now, now. I'm a gentleman of honour, vixen. You cannot get the finer details of my conquests out of me with your feminine wiles," a faint emphasis on the last, deliberate, to point out the lack thereof. "If it ever happened, I'd probably be sent off to Ista," is Maja's fear, and the woman raises her eyebrows at Rathin's following remark. "You tell me lying is part of your job, and you say you are a gentleman of honor. Perhaps I should talk to Satiet to get a clearer picture." The emphasis on 'feminine wiles' merely pulls from Maja a shake of the head-- she could care less the wiles she has. "The lady of the spires can be contrary when it suits her," Rathin counters, "Perhaps she'd keep you around as a pet." Chortled laughter escapes him, and he agrees, "That's true, but how can you be sure if one or the other - or both are truth or lies?" He folds arms across his chest, sliding down further into the hammock. "Please do. Then come and tell me what she said; I'd be fascinated to hear it." "Poetical, are you?" Maja replies to the first sentence, denouncing the flowing words. "Or perhaps I'd simply go back to my old job at Keogh Hold, and leave Satiet to High Reaches." The woman shrugs, "Perhaps I'll just assume the worst, then." Her hand strays to her hair, now dry. "Have a good night," she ends the conversation abruptly, turning around and heading back to her cot. There's a definite reaction from Rathin at something Maja says; a slight jerk of head, faint tensing, though he attempts to conceal the reaction with a shift of his weight in order to get the hammock swinging at a decent pace once more. "Don't you mean, leave High Reaches to Satiet?" he says, pointedly, sounding pleased, the words chasing after the ex-guard as she departs. |
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