Logs:Of the Future
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| RL Date: 18 October, 2006 |
| Who: Dassah, Imariel, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 11, Month 7, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 2:13 on day 11, month 7, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer night. You push the hides aside and step into the kitchen. Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr The kitchens of High Reaches Weyr are contemporary, spare and simple in design, free of clutter. The sleek surfaces are a hallmark of the current Pernese style - polished marble and granite, metalwork, and woods. The background colors of the kitchen are light and neutral, allowing for bold tone accessories to take center stage. The lighting and entryway opening treatments are low-profile and minimalist. The hearths have been fitted with modern equipment and simple, sleek metalwork to add an up-to-date touch to the heavily used areas. The polished granite counters are long and wide, allowing for ample work space. The woodwork is lightly stained, bringing out the natural hues in the grain. A simple cording, in the same bold color as the accessories, borders each cabinet door, accenting the room. Two large islands break up the kitchen into work areas: baking center, butchery, vegetable and side center, and the serving organization center. The floor is tiled with large marble squares, each section carrying a different, yet complimentary color to direct the flow of traffic. The entryway into the Living Cavern has been expanded to fit two doors - in and out - each marked with its own identifying color that matches the tiles just inside the doors, to keep collisions from occurring. The cavern itself has been expanded to include breakfast nooks, where residents can sit to eat, while leaving the main kitchen free from tables and the traffic that accompanies a busy Weyr. Contents: Dassah Obvious exits: LIving Cavern Lower Caverns In the bustle of the afternoon kitchens, it might be easy to overlook the presence of Dassah. Until, that is, the voice of the worker she has lured into helping her booms out, "No, no! You are holding the knife all wrong, and if you try to cut like that you're going to..." What she is going to do is apparent; while attempting to chop a vegetable into slices, her finger is nicked. The word she says when it happens is perhaps stronger than the tiny cut warrents, and as she sucks on the offending fingertip the worker merely smirks at her. "You weren't kidding that you're useless with a knife." He teases, without malice. It's not unusual at all to see the Weyrleader ducking into the kitchens for a meal - indeed, he seems to prefer it to the living caverns, most of the time. R'hin bestows cheerful greetings on the kitchen staff, murmuring in a low, persuasive tone to one of the chefs, who finally gives him a look and relents, working a dish that definitely doesn't look that the casserole of lunch time. It looks as if he's intending to loiter around until the meal's ready, leaning up against the table of one of the breakfast nooks. Dassah's misadventure with the knife is noted, the man's lips twisting. "I'm impressed," he observes dryly, "We don't usually make visitors bleed for our meals." Dassah looks over at R'hin, and a blush creeps along her cheeks. The figner is removed from her mouth and hidden behind her back. "Sir." She says, politely. "Just trying to learn a new skill to be useful. Shanlee mentioned they always need people for prep, so even though I know I've no luck with it..." A shrug. "I figured anyone ought to be able to wield a knife well enough to chop veggies..." "Not everyone's adept enough," R'hin says, though the words seem to be kindly enough. "Perhaps you only need more practice." Pushing away from the table, he gestures towards the hand now hidden behind her back, "Here, show me." The abrupt kindness might be odd, if Dassah's heard any of the many rumors about the young Weyrleader. Imariel comes into the kitchen from the living cavern. Imariel has arrived. Wary, she offers out the wounded hand to the man. Indeed, the nick is tiny at best, and if more than a few drops of blood escaped it it would be surprising. "More practice, I think." Dassah says with a sigh. "I know I can beat this. It's a family trait, I am told. BUrn water, mutilate veg... It's shocking." R'hin catches Dassah's hand in his own, holding it up for inspection. The pads of his fingers are rough, as he casts what appears to be an expert eye over the wound, turning her hand this way and that in exaggerated seriousness. "Mm. It looks as if you'll live, Dassah." He finally pronounces, pale eyes glinting as he releases her hand. "Ah, one of those? You should try dancing. It helps with coordination. The harpers play often; you ought to take advantage." Imariel enters the kitchens from the living cavern, looking as if she might've just woke up from a nap. Indeed, it's likely she did, since she was up before dawn helping with breakfast. Now she'll help with dinner, or with serving, at least. Offering a smile to people she recognizes, she sips from the mug of klah she's collected on the way through the cavern. Snagging an apron, chopping board, bowl of tubers and a knife, she's in search of table space when she sees Dassah and R'hin. "Afternoon, sir, Dassah," she says, smiling and then looking concerned. "Did you hurt yourself?" she asks the girl, peering at the hand. Dassah blushes more, tugging her hand back in against her chest in an almost defensive gesture. "It's nothing." She assures them both. "I just got my finger in the way, that's all. It's barely a scratch." The worker who was helping her gives a snort, and seeing she's occupied with R'hin, moves back to his more normal duties. Dassah lookes to the weyrleader, and for a moment indecision flitters across her expression before she replies to him. "I've never had much use for dancing, sir." She says, her words chosen carefully. "There's usually more useful things that can be done rather than indulging in such things." "Indulging?" R'hin echoes, with a distinct air of belief. "It is grand exercise, it improves your balance and coordination and-- best of all-- it's enjoyable. Hardly traits that I'd consider indulgence." A faint curl of lips suggests he's noted the blush. A sidelong glance takes in the meal still in progress, before an easy smile is offered to Imariel. "Afternoon," he greets, genially enough. "Dancing?" Immie inquires. "I've never done much, either, but I've watched at Gathers, now and then," she offers, nodding to the other kitchen worker as she sets about peeling tubers. It's easy to see she's not likely to cut herself, the way she wields the paring knife. "I was always too busy helping cook or serve, usually," is her next remark. "Is there going to be a dance, or something, sir?" Immie asks, head tilted to the side while she works. As the stining fades, the injured hand is released to rest on the counter next to her. "Other than knife skills, I've never found my balance or coordination to be lacking, sir." She says, perhaps a touch of frost in the words. "And I wouldn't know about enjoyable. As I said, there's usually more important things to do than dance when such things are being done. There's always tables that need cleaning, food that needs serving, or pots that need scrubbing." She looks over to Imariel and offers a polite nod of greeting. "Good afternoon." There's a low-voiced chuckle, as R'hin answers Imariel, "Lhiannonth will be clutching soon. They'll be plenty of dancing. And feasting, undoubtedly. Even kitchen staff, however, have opportunity to participate." If anything, the touch of frost in Dassah's voice earns a wider smile, "Ah. So your issues are simply food related?" "Oh, isn't that right," Immie agrees with Dassah about table cleaning and pot scrubbing. "There are times when I think there cannot possibly be another pot in the world, but there always is." She grins good-naturedly, her hands busy with the chopping, the knife making thunking noises against the board. "Yes, you mentioned that the other evening. When will the clutching be, sir? Soon?" There's an underlying tone of excitement in her voice, as if this is something she's looking forward to, though her expression fades a little at the mention of feasting. "Which means tons of pot-scrubbing, no doubt." A pause. "I'm sure I'll be able to watch, at least, if not participate. I'd probably hurt someone's feet if I tried to dance." Dassah shakes her head, "My issue is more with frivolity. There's no lack of things that need doing, and things like dancing make those things take longer." A shrug. "But everyone will do what they will. I choose to work hard, others chose to dance and play." An incline of her chin. "Oh, yes, congratulations on your flying of Lhiannonth, I am sure it will be a bountiful clutch." A glance to Imariel, "Always another pot to clean, shirt to mend, weed to pull." She says, almost as if it were a mantra. "Soon enough," the Weyrleader agrees. "Lhiannonth doesn't leave the ledge much, except to feed. She's rather... bulky," he says, diplomatically enough for him. "A sevenday, maybe two." There's a distinct pause at Dassah's congratulations, R'hin's head tipping, observing blandly, "Leiventh flew her. I was merely a spectator." There's an odd note in his tone as he says it, though, though it's hard to decipher and it comes across as brusqueness. "Always, yes, though I've mostly spent my time in the kitchen. Didn't have to do much weed pulling or things like that," Imariel again agrees with Dassah. "But, there's time for relaxation, too. In fact, it's the rest times that make the work easier, for me." She listens to R'hin speak of his Leiventh flying the queen, and regards the Weyrleader for several seconds. "It seems to me that being a Weyrleader would be a tremendous amount of work, sir. Perhaps not so much congratulations as sympathies?" There's a hint of teasing in her tone, and a sparkle in her eyes. "But I'm still learning about the weyr, and I'm probably wrong. At least there's not the threat of Thread, now. That's a relief, I'm sure -- though what will the weyrs do now?" she asks, curious. "Congratulations to Leiventh, then. He, at least, seems to understand his duty." Dassah says, without a hint of either teasing or sarcasm. Her gaze returns to the other woman, looking over her appraisingly. "I've never found relaxation to be... Well, relaxing. I am far more content when I know that my efforts will serve some purpose other than just passing time. And the Weyrs, I imagine, will be focused on preserving what they know, and expanding it for the next time Thread returns, as they always have." R'hin's head tips, pale eyes fixing on Imariel with a distinct intensity at her words. "Yes, Imariel, what -will- the Weyrs do, now? We shall see." There's a dark kind of chuckle following the words, hands settling into his pockets, before Dassah's comment earns a careful look. His lips thin, somewhat between a grimace and a smile. "He does, yes. So, is that what you think dragonriders should do? Simply wait for two hundred odd turns until we're needed again?" His voice has a hard edge, inquisitive. Immie takes in Dassah's answers, nodding, and continuing to work through the bowl of tubers. The peels are piling up, and another worker drops a waste basket next to her, into which the girl sweeps the discarded peelings. "I would think there are all kinds of things dragonriders could do, besides just maintain the traditions and train," she remarks. "Pern may be Threadfree for a long time, but that doesn't mean the riders need sit idle. I mean, there are mountains where people get lost or stranded when it snows or rains very hard. I'd think dragons would be invaluable for helping those people, rescuing them, perhaps." She gives a gentle shrug. "And, my father was saying once that maps need to be updated all the time, so couldn't the riders help with that, too?" she offers, apparently much more relaxed around the Weyrleader than she was when first meeting him. Dassah warily picks up the knife she was using. This time her grip is far more careful as she very slowly resumes chopping the vegetable in front of her. "Seems to me that flying Fall is much like a craft. There'll be tricks to it, methods that work and that don't work. And in a real Fall, I'd think there wouldn't be much experimentation. So, while there's not Thread perhaps riders should be focusing on making sure it will be flown right when it DOES come back. And while there are riders around that have faced it and lived, thought she be put into what can be improved so that it will be easier and safer when it comes back. Thread is what riders are meant to worry about, and it's what they should focus on." "And," R'hin's hand lifts abruptly, as if begging Imariel to pause in her thinking, though the glitter of pale eyes indicates he's not adverse to such thoughts, "How -does- one convince a rider who has followed... -relied- on Tradition all of their lives to keep them alive, that we should alter such Traditions?" His hand gestures in Dassah's direction, "And here, we see the other side of the mark. How do you think the Holders, the Crafters who tithe to us will feel after supporting dragonriders for two hundred Turns? Will they feel grateful, or will they resent us? Precedent, after all, was set in Lessa's lifetime." Dutifully, Immie pauses, letting the Weyrleader speak. When he's done, she turns first to Dassah, saying, "True, but only so much can be taught without Thread to test the theories on. A thing may seem ideal on hide, the schematics perfect, but it's still only theoretical. Practical application is another thing entirely." She scoops a handful of tubers into another bowl, then pauses, thinking of what R'hin has asked. "There are those who will always resent having to support the weyrs," she says slowly, brow knitted. "It's possible, as time passes, others will see dragonriders as a drain, and tradition or not, will want to ... well, send less. I'm not certain how it can be prevented, since fear of a thing fades when it's not constantly a threat. Perhaps it would be possible to have more interaction with the holds and halls? It's not impossible for dragonriders to take time to integrate back with other people, is it? I don't mean live in the holds, but maybe just keep people familiar with the need for dragons?" She doesn't sound certain of the last. It's only conjecture, after all. Dassah agrees with Imariel, pausing in her chopping to give the question due thought. "There will always be people who resent riders, and there were surely those tho did even while Thread was falling. You won't be able to convince every Holder and Crafter that it will be back. But, our traditions have served us through many intervals and passes, with the obvious exception of the start of that Pass. But, the lessons learned there, even, will be remembered for a long time to come." A slight tilt of her head. "And those that do their duties can always be given rewards denied to those that don't. Easier access to Riders, transport and aid from the Weyr when needed. Those without will soon find themselves struggling to compete with those the weyrs favor." "Ah. And now you see the dilemma of a Weyrleader in an Interval." R'hin's hands spread to either side, before dropping down. "You speak of diplomacy, Imariel, and you of withheld duties, Dassah. Perhaps what is needed is some combination of both - yet it would be a fine balance, indeed, to maintain such a thing." The Weyrleader's low baritone is smooth, knowing, clearly having discussed the issue often before. "Concerns to keep one awake at night - perhaps indulgences will be forgive." A twist of lips follows, a brow twitching in Dassah's direction. One of the cooks gains his attention, and he gives a nod to her. "I'll let you both get back to your work." He steps towards the woman, his voice low as he collects the meal, before heading for the door. Imariel's brow knits. "I'm not certain that rewarding some won't be seen as punishing others, and that might stir even more resentment in some factions, Dassah," she offers. "Pern has survived many disasters, both natural and man-made, but the weyrs have never /punished/ people for not supporting them. Smaller cotholds will be springing up now threat of Thread is over, and some of those won't be able to offer as much support as the larger ones. Should they be punished for their size?" she ventures. "Perhaps, if more people interacted with the weyrs, got to know the riders and the dragons, they might be less inclined to resent them. Many riders had trades before they became riders. Maybe those ties to hold and hall should be strengthened?" At R'hin's comments, Immie nods. "A delicate balance to be maintained, for certain, and I don't envy you, sir. But, there are good minds on Pern, and I'm sure a solution will present itself. Communication is the key, in my opinion. Listening to each other and perhaps compromising a bit on all sides will prevent misunderstandings that happened in the past." She nods to the Weyrleader. "Clear skies, sir. Perhaps we can talk again sometime, then." Dassah shakes her head. "Some may see it that way, but it is not the same thing. If a you give a child a bubbly for doing you a favor, are you then obligated to give one to the children who refused that favor before you asked? They have the same oppertunity to earn those extre rewards, if they choose not to take it, that isn't the weyr's fault." A smile is offered to R'hin, thin but not disingenuous. "Clear skies, Sir, and better you than me in having to answer those questions. Me, I do my part, and in return I eat your food and sleep in your bed. A fair and equitable arrangement." You brush the hides aside and step into the lower caverns. |
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