Logs:On Standing, Impressing and Not
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| RL Date: 26 March, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After speaking with Irianke, Edyis tells K'zin that she's decided to be a candidate. They speak of Standing, of Impressing and Not Impressing. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 5, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated! |
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>---< Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr(#270RJs) >----------------------------<
Within the labyrinth of interconnected chambers that make up the inner
caverns, this large, long cavern serves both as a crossroads and a
comfortable place for weyrfolk to sit, talk, and keep a nosy eye out for
who's going where. Colorful, seasonal tapestries add warmth to the smooth
walls and reduce echoes, while large niches house clusters of chairs, and
a waist-high stone shelf along one wall provides a perch for drinks or
work for residents on the go. Worn brass hooks often hold jackets or other
outerwear with workboots stationed beneath, the transitory nature of the
cavern lending itself to being treated as a sort of communal foyer where
snowy or muddy gear can be kept outside of living quarters. Smaller,
higher niches at regular intervals hold glowbaskets kept fresh during the
daytime and allowed to dim somewhat at night.
The largest tunnels lead to the main living cavern, to the bowl and to the
Weyr entrance, but it's still easy for the uninitiated to get lost within
this maze. K'zin has adopted a chair, in a nook, in the inner caverns. Normally, he'd probably be reading or tinkering or doing something, but just now, he's staring into the space in front of him with furrowed brow. His arms are loosely crossed over his torso and he's slouched. Perhaps he's waiting for someone, or something. Perhaps he just needed a moment to take a load off. Whatever the reason, he's here, just hangin' with vacant expression. Dark eyes, rest on the soft white tangle of threads in her palm as she heads away from the headwoman's office, lips pursed and brows drawn faintly together. There is a measure of uncertainty in her footfalls, even as they carry her almost past the bronzerider, except; "K'zin, I didn't expect to run into you so soon." Brown eyes lift from nowhere to somewhere (Edyis' face). He sounds tired when he addresses her with raised brows, "Technically, you didn't run into me. You ran-- well, walked, past me." He points at where she is versus where she would need to be to actually run into him. His eyes drop to the tangle of white. His brow wrinkles a bit more as his eyebrows hitch up. It's likely from his angle that he can't see what exactly it is she holds, but there's enough silent question in his expression that he must suspect it's something particular. "You never struck me as a technicalities sort of person K'zin." Is her retort, but something in her expression lacks joviality. "One last time I think. Because you two asked." It is almost a mantra, "Then I can move on." Tossing the knot at him easily for his inspection. "Oh, I was a Smith, remember, we're all about technicalities. And blueprints. And molten metal." K'zin could probably go on; it's a tired ramble. His reflexes are slow, too, and his hands come up but he only catches the tail of the knot, leading to a fumble of it into his lap. He plucks it back up to give it a glance. "Does it suck? Leaving the Sands?" He wonders, looking at her with an earnest expression. The faint beginnings of a phantom smile causes her lips to twitch. "Not the first time, and the second I only wondered briefly what I was missing. You get left behind, watching the friends you made move on without you, watching them change into someone else." She sucks a breath in settling into an open seat beside him. "Some of us aren't meant for impression. This time though, I think it would mean that it is time to move on. Find a purpose." That smile becomes real in the last, warm and certain. K'zin's lips tighten into a look that isn't exactly a frown, but it comes close. "In my experience," he says with deliberate calm, "that which others perceive as a weyrling 'changing into someone else' is the natural and necessary evolution of a person's character in response to intense and persisting stimuli." The way he says it and the preciseness of his language choices suggest that it's something he's thought on extensively. "I don't imagine it's much different than the natural changes that occur in a person after any other major life event." He holds the knot back out to her, looped over the tip of a single extended finger. "The dragon doesn't change you, the dragon is the dragon and you change yourself in response." He blows out a long breath. "I never said change was bad K'zin," Edyis murmurs gently. "But it is still change, still growth regardless of the cause. It is still something that can only be understood by those who have gone through the same transformation." Long fingers claim the knot, worrying at it absently. "You asked if it sucked leaving the sands. It isn't leaving the sands that proves difficult. It is getting left behind." "I lost friends," is K'zin's blunt response to her first. "Friends who were weyrlings with me. Friends who told me I was suddenly someone else. Friends who made assumptions and judged my lifemate and me along with him. I think they were wrong, but there's little I can do about that. I'd hate to see you make the same mistake, if you Impress. Or even if you don't." He pauses a thoughtful moment, "The thing is, even if you're going through it with your own lifemate, it's not the same for any two pairs. Never is. So whether you Impress or you don't, the only thing you can do for your friends that did is to understand that there's something to get that you can't get, and just be supportive of that, give room for that, don't cling to--" He stops himself because it's becoming lengthy. He sighs, one hand rising up to rub across his face. Tired. "Don't take this the wrong way but you look like hell." She answers in response to his tired. The topic change is casual. "Telavi keeping you busy?" "New job," K'zin answers the brunette, taking to the change without protest. "You could say it's Telavi, but really it's Quinlys, and just not wanting to fuck it up." He shifts just enough so that the jacket mushed against the chair behind him (but not worn presently) can be seen with the assistant weyrlingmaster knot now on the shoulder. "I would hate to be you." Edyis laughs darkly, highly amused by the poor bronze rider's pain. "Responsible for all those young impressionable young minds, and hormonal teens!" "It's not for everyone," K'zin concedes, "but the barracks sort of feels like home. It's a confusing and frustrating and wonderful time, those first few months. You're so sleep deprived that everything feels surreal and you're just trying to do your best because you have this little thing that needs you. Even Ras, who didn't need anyone, needed me." These words are a little softer and more tender. "I really can't imagine a better way to spend part of my life than trying to help. I just hope I won't suck at it. Like in Telgar." He can look back on that with a measure of amusement, but there's real concern obviously underlying. "In Telgar?" Her attention shifts subtly, curious now. "I don't think you will do badly, for whatever a waitress's opinion is worth." She watches, him her expression gentle. "Yeah, I helped with the weyrlings there. Someone graffitied the wall of my weyr before I got back," K'zin's hand rubs across his face and he rises. "You're not a waitress anymore." He tells her. "You took the knot, you're a candidate now. Waitressing will have to wait for another day. Or never." He rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "Good luck, Edyis," is simple before he's moving toward the nearest exit to the bowl; maybe he's going to get some much-needed sleep! |
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