Logs:Proper Motivation
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| RL Date: 21 June, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Eadgyd |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh meets Eadgyd! They gossip, they.. don't agree. |
| Where: The Glass Fountain, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Astivan/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Vaion/Mentions |
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| Not every day is there a foreign goldrider sitting in the Glass Fountain, staring up at the chandelier with an expression of befuddlement; it's almost comical in how she stands out amongst the locals mingling at the bar and in the high-backed booths. She's only been seated, by herself, for a short time, after coming into the establishment strangely unescorted and ordering a glass of wine, and she doesn't appear to be waiting for anyone either. Eadgyd is altogether too casual as she saunters her way into the Glass Fountain, slyly slipping her knot into her pocket as she steps through the doorway. Are candidates supposed to be here? She's not altogether sure, but that doesn't stop her from wandering her way over to the bar and ordering a large mug of some mystery liquid. On her way to claim her table with drink in hand, her feet seem to get into some sort of argument with the floor and she goes tumbling, spilling ale across the floor next to the foreign goldrider's table. And then the swearing starts. The stumbling, and subsequent swearing, pulls Farideh's eyes from the chandelier and they fall, instead, on the marauding candidate with neutrality. Her slim eyebrows lift in bemusement, but she doesn't move from her relaxed pose on her booth seat. "Are you okay?" she poses to Eadgyd. "Do you need assistance?" "I don't need," growl, mutter, "assistance!" The words are spoken with a thinge too much vehemence, as though they're as much to prove a point to herself as to anyone else. Eadgyd gets to her feet, holding her arms away from her body as ale drips off of her. Someone has appeared with a towel to relieve her of her empty mug, and she begins hastily wiping herself down as soon as the exchange is made. "I don't want to take you away from your... She squints, glancing up at the chandelier and then back at Farideh. "Staring?" Farideh's eyes follow the other girl's rise to her feet and the exchange of mug for towel, but she remains silent until Eadgyd references the chandelier. "I've never seen a chandelier inside of a-- Weyr-- before," she acknowledges, her eyes lifting to the offending piece before falling back to the candidate's face. "You look like you need another drink," is voiced aloud, and without waiting for Eadgyd's approval, she starts to wave down a waitress. "It smells like-- beer?" At the goldrider's words, Eadgyd once again lifts her gaze to survey the chandelier with new - if confused - eyes. "Where are they meant to be, then?" she asks, directing her question toward the dangling decor. There's a moment more of consideration before she shrugs, and returns to wiping herself down as best she can with a single towel. "Aye," is her answer, spoken with blustery confidence now that the worst of the short-lived embarrassment of her tumble has faded. The waitress only needs a nod to guess what the beer-bathed girl is after. "It's not my favorite, but I've smelled worse." "In the grand hall of a Hall or a Hold," Farideh sighs, and makes a vague gesture with one hand, picking up her wineglass with the other. One sip of wine and a frown later, she considers Eadgyd again. "Would you care to join me? You can regale me all about yourself, your life, and I can tell my weyrlingmaster that I bumped into a long lost friend, and that's the reason I ignored him when he told me to stay. I'll even buy your beer." Eadgyd offers up an arched brow in answer, but her contemplation of chandeliers ends there -- as fascinating as they are. Her gaze drops to the empty seat, and then lifts to survey Farideh with a critical eye. Whatever she's searching for, she seems to find it, as the candidate gives a short nod and drops into the seat across from the goldrider. "I don't know about regaling," she answers with a smirk, "But I will take that drink. What's a weyrling doing here, then?" The waitress who was signaled not so long ago reappears, setting a drink down in front of the short-haired girl. "Bored of home already?" "You can start by telling me your name and what you do around here, and move onto things like your opinions about your weyrwomen and the state of affairs around this place," Farideh suggests, with a disinterested smile for the waitress when she comes to replace Eadgyd's spilled mug. "Bored? Sometimes. In this case, we made a stop, and the other weyrling I was with got sick-- all over himself, and J'vain took him to your infirmary. I'm not going to stand around and wait while they try to figure out how to make him stop throwing up his breakfast." "Eadgyd." That answer comes easily to her lips, although even that word is colored with a hint of annoyance. Rather than answer the next question, she cradles her mug close and lips it to her lips, taking a long swig. As the mug is lowered again, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Nothing wrong with Hattie. I don't think Lilah likes me much." There's a toothy grin at that, before the girl adds, "Not much else to say about affairs here. I imagine there'll be more when the eggs hatch." She laughs at the tale, but it's more of a hard bark than a sound containing any warmth. "Won't make much of a rider if he can't hold his breakfast." "Eadgyd," Farideh repeats, "is an interesting name." For the rest of the other girl's spiel, she listens politely with a small smile curving her mouth, but there's nothing decidedly friendly or interested in her face. "Nothing at all? Not even any backlash from the-- what was it again-- landslide? And Lord Astivan's discrepancies," she says levelly, not a stray emotion crossing her decorous visage, though her mouth does creak into something of a more genuine grin for the end. "Everyone has their bad days. Don't they?" Those sharp, pale eyes narrow suddenly as Faideh's questioning deviates into dangerous territory. "Aye, there's been some backlash," Eadgyd replies in a measured tone, as though weighing the potential for disaster with each word. "I've heard rumors. Can't tell you for myself if they're true or not." The smirk that curls her lips hints at private amusement. However, it's the scheming glint to her eye that really ought to be concerning. "What's the need for you and yours to know?" As for that other weyrling? She adds a gruff, "Having a bad day on the ground isn't the same thing as having one in the air." The answer gains a slight widening of hazel eyes, her head tipping to the side. "I thought we were just having a chat, Eadgyd," Farideh says, as equally level as she had before. "I can't pretend to know much at all about Fort Weyr and I haven't seen weyrwoman Lilah since her queen clutched, but I am sure you can understand that our close proximity brings its own kind of rumors." She takes a long drink from her wine, watching the candidate over the rim of her glass. "For what it's worth, I think he might have gone drinking last night, or perhaps he had one too many of Aeftra's honey pastries. It's a little rash to call him a bad rider simply because he-- couldn't keep it down." Eadgyd merely shrugs, as though that scheming suspicion were something to be expected in casual conversation. She raises her mug to her lips and takes another sip rather than opening her mouth to speak, hiding herself behind the lip of her mug. "What kind of rumors?" is her curious question. She shifts toward in her seat as she says it, must like a child waiting to be told a story. As encouragement, she adds, "I can't say I pay much attention to rumors, myself. They're mostly lies." Teeth are flashed his time as she grins at Farideh again. Lies, but likely with some basis in truth when it omes to this particular issue. She shrugs, brushing thoughts of the other rider away with a wave of her hand. "Then he shouldn't have gotten on his dragon today." Faideh moves her shoulders in a way that readjusts her leather riding jacket over them, and bestows a charitable smile on younger girl. "All sorts of rumors," she begins, setting her glass aside on the table. "Someone in the kitchens told me that their auntie's friend's cousin saw Lord Astivan on more than one occasion in an intimate embrace with your Weyrwoman. Another story I've heard is that Fort will have to beg the other areas for respite, as between the theft and the destruction from the landslide, there isn't enough for the residents to subsist on," though, of course, she doesn't pinpoint Weyr or Hold. Leaning forward herself, forearms bracing against the table edge, "And they say that your bronzerider-- what's his name? N'var? N'rol? Ah, N'rov-- he still visits his dead weyrmate's weyr at High Reaches. I don't believe that last one, anyway. It's currently being occupied by our Weyrwoman and I think she'd tell me if some love-sick puppy came wandering through her weyr at night-- or maybe she doesn't," is finished with a click of her tongue and a smile hidden behind her hand. She only sobers the smallest bit to incline her head and aver, "You may be right." Eadgyd hunches forward, halfway leaned across the table as Farideh relays her sordid tales. The candidates grin grows, and if there's a slightly predatory edge to it, well, at least she's smiling. "I've never heard such a thing about Hattie," she admits with the amusement ripe in her tone, "but that doesn't mean it's not happening. No one would tell me if the Weyrwoman was having a sordid affair." She brings her mug to her lips without looking away from the goldrider, almost spilling the liquid on herself when she goes to take a sip while still trying to maintain eye contact. With a grunt, she relents and takes a proper drink. Her hand swipes across her mouth again as she said, "I know nothing's been fixed when it comes to conditions after those landslides, and I know some people aren't too happy about it. But I'd have to be a good deal more important for anyone to tell me about it." There's a low chuckle at the last rumor, as she adds, "Maybe they have an arrangement. He gets to mourn, and she gets..." There's a little wiggle of her brows to imply just what the Weyrwoman gets. If Farideh's pleased by Eadgyd's reaction to her gossip, she's certainly not showing it, beyond the vague smile that continues to keep the corners of her mouth up. "Why wouldn't they? Aren't you a resident of the Weyr? I used to be a laundress and we heard some of the best things, besides the kitchens, but the kitchen staff always wants to embellish on their tales, so you can't exactly take it at face value." She pauses, staring at the candidate from across the table. "Nothing at all? Not a single drop of a rumor?" sounds a little disbelieving. She laughs loudly in the next moment, then bites down on her lower lip and snaps her fingers in the air. "That-- they might. I do hear sounds at night sometimes, and it would account for those stories. I hope he's at least half as handsome as they say." For all that Eadgyd seems to be willingly throwing information in Farideh's direction, there's something very calculated in how much she gives away -- and what she doesn't. "I'm a stablehand," she half-lies, leaning on her former profession instead of her current knot. "We're not around people the same way the kitchen staff are. I could tell you what the runners are up to, but..." The words trail off into a shrug. And then that glint of conspiracy is back in her gaze, and she leans a little further toward the goldrider. "I could find out, if it's worth something to you. I've a good ear when I want to have one, I just need the proper motivation." A snort accompanies the additional, "I couldn't tell you his face from a wherry's arse, but I'm sure he's something to look at." Now, it's Farideh's turn to narrow her eyes in suspicion. "Worth something to me? Proper motivation? Are you saying you want me to pay you to spy on my Weyrwoman and your-- N'rov?" She holds that pose a minute longer, and then pushes back from the table, to sit up straight and arch one eyebrow at Eadgyd. "I don't care enough about what she does or doesn't do, specifically, who she does or doesn't sleep with. That's her business, and I have a care for my position in my Weyr. Is that what you do," she flicks her eyes up and down what she can see of the other young woman, "Eadgyd?" Eadgyd's only reaction is to laugh, the sound slowly trailing off into a quiet sigh. "Spy on my Weyrwoman and this N'rov person?" She gives a wave of her hand to indicate how very little such things concern her. "Of course not. Who would care what she was doing in her personal time? I meant those other rumors. How things are after the landslides. What desperate people will do to survive." Her tone is carefully light, almost jocular. To emphasize how unconcerned she is, she pauses to take a swig from her mug before answering, "I'm a stablehand, I told you." Farideh listens without a giving away any of her inner thoughts on her face, but her arms cross over her chest tightly. "Wouldn't that information be more helpful to Fort's weyrleaders? Or the new Lord Holder and the Halls? Why do you think I have any use for it beyond a passing fascination of altered circumstances?" She doesn't touch her wineglass, and keeps her expectant gaze on Eadgyd, patiently awaiting an answer. Eadgyd's shoulders lift in a simple shrug. "I'm sure Fort's leaders already know whatever I could find. But I'd also put bets on them not telling your Weyr everything that's going on." Her voice is almost entirely void of expression, almost as though she's simply bored and not attempting some form of conspiracy. "Maybe you don't personally have a use for it," she allows with a tilt of her head, "but that doesn't mean your Weyr doesn't." Silence meets Eadgyd's revelation, paired with a sour expression and a tightening of her arms; it lasts a little longer than the former stablehand's words and is broken by Farideh scoffing. She reaches for her wineglass and drains the remaining contents. "You're willing to sell out your Weyr," is her assumption, one which when spoken out loud, causes the weyrling to close her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose. "Whatever happened to loyalty?" "First of all," Eadgyd begins in that dry tone, "I'm not from here, so there's not much loyalty just yet." She pauses in her explanation, holding up one finger to indicate the pause as she gulps down the last of her beer. The mug is set back down on the table with a thud, and then candidate slouches back into her seat. "Second of all," she continue as her hand falls back to her side, "I don't know you and I've no reason to trust you. I chose the quickest path to the truth." "And you think that I want to piss off your weyrleaders? You don't have any idea what Irianke and K'del would--" Farideh sucks in a breath and her face pinches, lips pursed in distaste. "And what does proper motivation even mean? Do you want a ransom in marks? Your own weyr? You," is stated, as she moves to scoot towards the end of the booth, "have balls, and I don't mean that in the good way." From one of her pockets, she fishes out the appropriate payment plus tip, and tosses it on her side of the table, before she stands and stares down at Eadgyd. "You would do better to focus on where that bronzerider goes at night," she adds. Eadgyd simply leans back, angling herself into the booth so that her back rests against the wall and she can slouch into a fully relaxed position. Her arms cross over her chest as she listens to Farideh's short rant with both brows arched in amusement. "The point was to see what you'd do, not what I'd do," she drawls as she leans forward to rest her elbows on the tabletop again. "I gain nothing by spying on my Weyr for you, not to mention I'll be gone before I could provide you with anything of use." She smirks up at the goldrider, a subtle challenge in her pale eyes, daring the other woman to claim her words now to be a lie. She's remarkably cool in the face of Farideh's annoyance, which might suggest honesty on her part -- but then there's that sly little smile. "I don't care where the bronzerider goes at night," is her response, accompanied by a roll of her eyes, "You should consider what your interest in rumors gets you into." And with that statement, she leans back again and settles herself in. "Aren't you a peach?" is Farideh's answer, unkind as it is. She pulls the edges of her jacket closed and gives Eadgyd a grim smile. "It was lovely talking to you. Really, it was. Good luck with-- whatever it is you actually do." Not lingering any longer, the weyrling heads out at a swift clip. |
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