Logs:Once and Future Wants
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| RL Date: 5 August, 2016 |
| Who: Quint, Tamsin, Tyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quint and Tamsin meet |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 6, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
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| Summer, by contrast to others, is a gentle season in High Reaches. This evening is one of those that proves it so, pleasantly cool, but not overly so. The lake shore is sparsely populated at this hour when those who've taken an early supper have finished and those taking a later one have yet to start, but there's a brown in the waters and a dark haired woman in a blue sundress on the shore keeping him company at a distance. It's possible Tamsin is in silent conversation with her lifemate because she has the occasional, apparently unprompted silly smile; then again, perhaps she's just very entertaining to herself. A pair of Journeyman are taking an evening walk around the lake, chatting in low tones. One is distinctive in harper blue, even if Quint weren't wearing his knot -- which he is -- the other is burly and broad-shouldered enough to guess at his profession even if his smithcraft knot is somewhat dusted over. There's a brief pause, as the two shake hands (and the smith claps the harper on the shoulder, hard enough that the latter staggers a moment), before they part ways -- the smith towards the crafter's area, the harper along the lake's path. Quint gives the rider a nod, though perhaps he reads something in her expression, since he doesn't verbally address her as he approaches, his pace continuing leisurely near where she is. Tamsin's bare feet don't want to stay still in the sand at lake's edge, so her meandering path, though constrained to a short distance, is a relaxed pacing back and forth, tracing patterns with her footprints. Though her eyes are frequently on the brown, as she twists or twirls to turn and walk back the other way, her eyes are drawn by movement. She catches the clap of the shoulder from smith to harper, not really fully suppressing her smile, and watches them part ways. The smile widens with her own return nod to the harper, glancing only once more toward the brown before she alters her direction a skosh to lead her toward the journeyman, "Good evening," is offered cheerily as she draws nearer. "And to you, brownrider," Quint calls, pleasantly. Even if he might not recognize her personally, something in her expression and the way she keeps looking at the brown in the water is enough for a well-concluded guess. His glance goes past her, towards the dragon, lips twitching upwards. "Enjoying the warm evening, I see. Not tempted to slip down south to continue enjoying the sun, though? I saw a handful of riders leaving the bowl not an hour ago to do just that, I suspect." "Tempted?" Tamsin replies, amused. "Always, but temptations would lose their thrill if they were always conceded to." Nevermind that the brown's head has risen with marked interest in the turn of conversation and is watching the two. "Tyth would be happier," she adds a moment later, "if I gave in to a desire to go to southern more often." She leans a little toward the harper in faux conspiracy, "Better hunting there." She glances back toward where the smith was heading. "Contemplating similar getaway plans or something more professional?" "And yet, there are always greater heights to aspire to. Especially for one that can travel anywhere," counters the harper reflexively, before giving a wry sort of smile. "Ah," Quint makes a noise, like he comprehends a dragon's mind fully, hands clasping together behind his back as he regards dragon and rider in equal measures: "And you are loathe to give into his wants, because...?" The journeyman doesn't follow the rider's glance towards the smith, instead shaking his head. "Oh, not myself. I get out to Fort often enough to Hall, and to see my sister. I've worked all over -- being a Journeyman is satisfaction enough for any wanderlust." The counter argument is met with a slight raising of her brows and a pleased smile that doesn't go so far as to say she's impressed by the harper, but perhaps it's a promising start. The use of the word 'loathe' has Tamsin making a sound that could be a balk or a strangled laugh, her jaw dropping briefly and giving him a look that suggests he's said something outrageous in the mundane. "I just didn't feel like hunting today, and he prefers not to hunt alone." She tries to make it sound light and does a passable job, but there might be something beneath it. She doesn't linger, though, saying, "I can imagine being a Journeyman does that. You have the chance to know places better than we that just visit. Have any favorites?" Quint makes a sound in response to that, like he's considering the bond between rider and dragon for a moment, though like as not it's just a habitual response to indicate his interest in the conversation at hand without quite responding. "I went hunting down Honshu way once, though I'll admit, my skills are stronger with a gitar than a bow." Her latter question earns a twitch of lips: "I have more than a passing fondness for Ista Weyr, and Southern Boll Hold will always have a place in my heart," the harper confesses, although the latter is given a slightly different emphasis. "Are you High Reaches born and bred?" "If you fancy trying your hand at it again," Tamsin replies, smile wry and tone dry, "I don't think it would even take a 'please' or 'thank you' to convince Tyth to take you along." The glance she makes back toward the dragon holds a deep fondness and then there's laughter as he snorts and plunges his head under the water as commentary. "Is gitar your specialty?" The rider's inquiry is made as she turns her head back toward the man. "I like Southern Boll more than a little. I'd even take it over Southern if someone else didn't have such a preference for places with a lot of prey that no one will fuss about getting devoured." She makes it sound like that's such an unreasonable thing, but there's a twinkle in her eyes as she smiles that proves the sentiment mock. The last holds more sobriety and tenderness, "I'm from a small Hold in Tillek sweep, but I've been at the Weyr long enough to call it the home in my heart." "I appreciate the offer," the harper responds, with a nod of thanks to dragon as much as rider, hands unclasping to spread for a moment, "But I'm afraid I prefer pasttimes I excel at. Playing to a crowd of dancing, happy people is much more my thing." The query of his specialty has Quint shaking his head: "Teaching, actually," he admits with as much pride as any rider might convey talking about their dragon. "Mm, Tillek. I do hope to get a posting there one day. I think I'd like to try my hand at sailing -- enough though admittedly I imagine it's far too late to change crafts, should I develop a love for that, too." He's chuckling at the thought, glancing away towards the Weyr proper. "Sailing is delightful," Tamsin willingly confirms for him, "though my brothers were always a better hand at the actual sailing than I was. I was mostly good at lounging in the prow. It's not quite as delightful as dancing, but less taxing of the body." There's a grin for that, but then she hones in on what might be the more important topic. "Teaching." The word holds invitation, but there are questions, too, "Do you find it's different to teach in different places? Was it something you always wanted to do--uh...?" There's the obvious moment when she realizes they haven't even exchanged names and she's peppering him with questions. There's an embarrassed flush barely visible in the evening light. The harper nods thoughtfully. "Good to know," he says, with an easy grin. "Something to look forward to -- though I might leave the lounging until I'm more of an expert," is added with a low laugh. Quint, for his part, seems entirely unflustered by the lack of exchanged names. Perhaps he's used to it -- or perhaps it doesn't bother him as much. "We do try to regulate teaching as much as possible across Pern, but there are subtle differences, depending on the senior harper, who the leaders are, and sometimes even the weather. Napping throughout the noonday heat at Ista wasn't so bad an adaption," the harper reflects, with a smile. "I didn't always want to be a teacher, no. Did you always want to be a rider?" he counters, with a tip of head. "Or until you've found someone to do the sailing for you," Tamsin suggests, though she allows with a fluttery sigh, "though I suppose that might defeat the point of having learned to do it yourself." There's a beat before she adds, "I'm Tamsin, by the way," just in case he'd like to offer a name in return after all. "And Faranth, no. I was going to be a shining example of a Holder's daughter. Married with a bevy of babies by now, surely. I just wanted a story to take home, to take to my ordinary life. Got more than I bargained for," she nods back toward Tyth. "What did you want to be before you became a teacher?" "True, though that would defeat the purpose of finding the joy of doing it yourself," Quint observes ruefully. "Quintus," he replies, with barely a missed beat, nodding in turn as she offers her name. "Ah. Not so bad a life -- one many aspire to and achieve both." The answer for the latter is blithely given: "Me? Mm. Let's see. A healer, a lord holder, a baker, a sailor -- once even a gambler, when I thought that would be particularly attractive to the opposite sex." There's laughter from Tamsin as Quintus provides the list, a light happy laughter that leaves her smiling in its wake. "Sounds like you lacked an imagination as a child," holds no truth whatsoever and much delight. "I never thought of being a Holder's wife as a bad life. This was all new," she gestures to the Weyr at large. "I hope the turn in your life has afforded you as much happiness and opportunity as mine has me. Even if it comes with some drawbacks. Like slaving over expanses of hide." That last comes with a little good-natured groan. "I'm needed," to that task, it would seem. "It was a pleasure, Quintus." She offers to the harper before she's twisting to take steps back toward her lifemate as he exits the water. "You should have heard my plan for how I would become a lord holder," Quint replies, with a grin. "But all in all, I'm rather pleased with where I've ended up, the lack of sailing skills aside." He's well used to the abrupt exits of a rider tending to their dragons' needs; he doesn't even look that surprised. There's a lift of his hand by way of farewell, an easy, "And you, brownrider," before he continues his walk, hands clasping behind his back again as he does so. |
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