Logs:Quinlys is Outspoken
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| RL Date: 19 March, 2015 |
| Who: Keysi, Quinlys, Rafevan |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys attempts to convince people not to Stand. Her brother steps in, and Searches Keysi instead. |
| Where: Lower Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 4, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| The cool, damp weather has kept a fair few people indoors, today; 'spring' may be here, but outside is yet to be wholly enticing. The lower caverns are, as a result, bustling, with weyrfolk at work in every corner of every corridor. In the main lower cavern, there's something of a commotion going on, and in the midst of it, a red-haired rider easily recognised as the Weyr's Weyrlingmaster. "Take a stand," the bluerider is saying, to a crowd of onlookers. "Why should we give up our dragons to them?" Turning the corner from the infirmary, the healer apprentice pauses to take a moment to stretch her arms over her head. Stiff from working out and working alike, there's perhaps whisp of tiredness on her otherwise stone-set expressionless expression. Naturally drawn by crowds- who isn't?- Keysi's grey eyes lead her towards the Weyrlingmaster who claims the center of attention. A shoulder edges her way through one or two residents until she's somewhat immediately before the bluerider. "You mean the restriction on Search?" She clarifies in her neutral tone. Quinlys turns, directing blue eyes towards Keysi as the apprentice speaks up. There's pink in her cheeks that is clearly more the result of this impassioned speech than embarrassment of any kind. "I'm talking about them sending our weyrlings to Igen. Against their will! If they want our dragons, they should be providing their own candidates. I don't want any of you," and now, she's addressing the group as a whole, raising one hand into the air to shake it, fingers drawn into a fist, "to ask to Stand. Not one! If there's no candidates, they'll have to send us some. Stand up, High Reaches!" Keysi folds her arms, falling into a momentary silence as she listens. Her stern eyes don't move from the Weyrlingmaster. Perhaps she has no foot to stand on speaking of dragons, but there's something about it that seems to ruffle her feathers just a bit. "But they would still be ours," wouldn't they?" She speaks up again, "We'd still be losing our- Niahvth's- dragons to Igen. At least have Reachians sitting astride them, at the very least. For then at least- given the opportunity- they would return and be in our wings again." Quinlys seems genuinely dumbstruck with Keysi's logic, though it would probably be a stretch to suggest that she agrees with it. Instead, she blinks at the younger, taller woman, crossing her arms in front of her now in a way that suggests she intends to stare the apprentice down. "So..." she begins. "You think our-- my-- training, and this Weyr's influence, would be enough to keep them ours?" Her tone is dismissive. Around her, others have turned to look at Keysi, too - some appraising, some curious, some showing suggestion of disbelief. "If it isn't, shouldn't we make it better?" Keysi returns the question, unwavering in poise and neutral in all but the hint of a flare of passion behind her words, "From the Harper stories I've been told since I was a very little girl, it always sounded like the place a dragon hatches and the bonds made before and after create a place irreplaceable. It's the people, and the area, the dragons are born to protect. I'm but an apprentice here, but you've Impressed. Did you feel as if you could just fly away after you Impressed?" "I was born here," says Quinlys, now beginning to sound irritated. "I could never leave. But you-- you're an apprentice. You just go where you're told, don't you? If they sent you somewhere else tomorrow you'd go, and you'd be fine." There's a murmur in the crowd, some of it (perhaps) agreement, and some of it (perhaps) not. Leaning up against a wall nearby, a man with a brownrider's knot watches, arms crossed, expression impassive. "For most dragonriders, home is where your dragon is. Everything else is just... details." Keysi nods slightly, but despite the age and rank difference doesn't seem phased by the building irritation. "Aye, sort of. But I've never had a reason to call a single place home." She looks back at the dragonrider who speaks up as well, "So it may be. I've always believed that dragonriders have a lot more purpose than being shuttled around like apprentices. Sure, the politics of a Pass are different, but they still have a voice that makes a difference. Surely denying all of High Reaches standing on their own Sands, and the choice to return if they have to be sent away, cannot seem right." It's a difference voice that answers that: another rider, another bluerider, standing next to that brownrider by the wall. "Dragonriders go where they're told," the red-haired young man says, mildly. "That's the key thing that, I'm afraid, my sister keeps forgetting." Quinlys glowers at him, arms crossed all the more tightly; the younger man - her brother, presumably - seems unbothered. "Interval or not, we follow orders. What's your name, apprentice?" Trevisath sounds amused. « We're going to Search her, I think. I thought I'd warn you. » Olveraeth is long-suffering, but calm; he's always calm. « We suspected. She's not happy. She says... the girl does not understand. But I think... to refuse to educate would be a poor thing, indeed. » « You're the educator, not me, » Trevisath answers, breezily. « But I like her anyway. » (From Trevisath to Olveraeth) « Quinlys? » Beat. « Or the girl? » (From Olveraeth to Trevisath) Trevisath doesn't answer. Either? Both? "And nobody can say a word?" The words are challenging, but she backs off her stance a moment as she observes the red-haired rider, "Keysi." She answers him, and releases a hand from her folded arms to make an encompassing gesture, "I realize that speaking against orders would cause trouble.. and I can't even speak of what sort of troubles.. but we can't give up an entire clutch to another Weyr without representation, without standing up for ourselves." That in and of itself made her pause. She hadn't included herself as a Reachian since she arrived until apparently just now. In the midst of the caverns - in the midst of a damp, cool spring day - there's something of a ruckus going on; in the middle of it all is Quinlys, who has apparently been holding court, pontificating over something. For the moment, however, the weyrlingmaster has her arms crossed and a scowl in place as another rider-- one whose red hair and blue eyes are suspiciously similar to Quinlys'-- takes the floor. "Twenty percent," he corrects. "Three or four, last I heard. And in return, we get the rest of the clutch, and a capable junior for another turn or more. Don't you think that's a good deal Keysi? And you're right: we should be searching our own people. Building relationships, right?" "Even that." Keysi disagrees, now having set her opinion. Though, she's of course not privvy to all of the information and she takes brief moments to consider it. "Any percent seems unacceptable. And if we Search only through Igen as the Weyrlingmaster said-" She's of course heard of her, but being terrible at names reverts to rank- "What kind of relationship building is that? Wouldn't that be more of a passive aggressive stance that only flames further complications?" A ruckus attracts attention, and one of those watching pairs of eyes is now Rafevan's. The smith has drawn up behind the speaking rider, closer to Quinlys, to listen, his bright eyes shifting from the man to Keysi and back, with perhaps a look askance for the weyrlingmaster herself in the process. "Any percent is unacceptable," announces Quinlys, finding her tongue again. She's at least partially aware of Rafevan's arrival, since she sends a defiant glance in that direction, clearly aiming to try and take back her soapbox. "None of them should be sent. And since our Weyrleaders don't seem to have enough spine to prevent that... none of our people should be sent. Just outsiders. Igenites, or..." her eyes narrow. The other rider - N'qui - raises his eyebrows at her. "Now, now. What about you? What do you think?" Hi Rafe. Keysi seems sedated slightly by the partial agreement they'd reached, but the spark behind her usually stone-cold eyes has yet to simmer down, "And we would have the remaining weyrling class being of Igen. You wish to train them to be capable, maybe even exceptional, wingriders and have further and further Igen influence in this Weyr." There's minimal inflection, leaving it as more of a sentence than a question. As the other Crafter is singled out, she re-folds her arms and looks to him for his voice. Up go Rafe's fair brows. While he doesn't exactly shy from the limelight, now that he's there, he doesn't look thrilled by it, either. "Forgive me," he tells the pair of riders, with a small smile. "The ways of dragons are really beyond my realm of expertise. But." He pauses for a moment, head tilting just slightly, an expression of genuine curiosity settled over his features. "Is it truly so unreasonable that the Weyr do what we of Hold and Craft have for so long? Send a tithe to repay those who support us in our times of need?" "Yes." That's Quinlys, of course; her brother's half nod is rather more approving. Her arms cross in front of her, scowl still in place. "None of you have any understanding," she decides. "Be it on your heads. Maybe we'll send some wingriders instead." Clearly, N'qui is the subject of that particular barb, though he seems unbothered as his sister turns and stomps off. "I'm really sorry for her," he tells the assembled group - not just the two apprentices, but others, too; everyone who has been paying attention. "She's probably on the rag or something." "A tithe?" Keysi seems- just slightly- surprised by the thought. "This seems a bit more substantial than trading marks and supplies from our stores.." Quinlys' addition makes her look back towards the starter of the subject as she passes by, but hesitates and is unable to get her thoughts to fruition until she looks back at N'qui. "She's right, I don't know enough. I wish I knew more. But don't you feel that it's unfair? There must be a solution, given the spine and time to get to it, but it can't be putting only Igen on our Sands." "Pardon me, weyrlingmaster. But if I've pretended otherwise, I apologize for that," Rafevan tells Quinlys with a bow of his head, deferential. No comment on N'qui's latter words, especially not while the angry woman is anywhere nearby. He stays where he is, though, even as some of the crowd starts to split up; the Smith is casual in his interest as he listens in to the further discussion. N'qui tucks his thumbs into the loops of his trousers, and nods. "I don't necessarily like it," he says. "But-- you have to remember that Niahvth is here on loan. Theoretically, you could say that none of the dragons are ours; that they're gifting us the dragons we are getting." His blue-eyed gaze slides from Keysi to Rafevan and then back again. "Well, I have one idea, Keysi. You could Stand for the clutch yourself." "Yes.." Keysi trails off as he reminds her of the basis of it all, "But given the tension between the Weyrs, and the sort of opinions this is spiking, the "gifts" are offering a lot of backlash. Are they picking who goes to Igen themselves?" The question he asks her doesn't really register for a long moment, in fact she shakes her head at him to add, "I'm an apprentice, and if the weyrlingmaster doesn't even want Reachians on the Sands.." For all her clever talk, the light comes on a bit late, "Wait, I could?" Her arms unfold as she offers him a critical, reading look with her intense eyes. Just ignore the smith looking on. Nothing to see here, but that name's filed away, at least, while he glances between Keysi and N'qui idly. "You could," says N'qui, firmly, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smug smile utterly reminiscent of his sister's. "Look, I need to run, but... think on it. We could use people like you; people who can stand up to my sister when she's being stupid, say. Talk to your Journeymen, make up your mind, and if you're in, tell the Headwoman." And with that, he offers a nod to both apprentices, and then turns to amble away, whistling lightly. A job well done! Very rarely is Keysi struck silent. This would be one of those rare times. The ever-present stern, stone-set appearance on her face has lost the whims of flurry of the discussion to be replaced by a blank look of 'what.' "I... yes, sir." Is all she says as all of the pieces of the previous arguement (albeit quite temporarily) fall out of importance. Riders departed in all directions, serious grey eyes turn to the smith with some hint of recognition. "I've seen you around in the apprentice dorms, aye?" "That was certainly an interesting debate, if one can call it that." It's a loose term, to be sure, for the outspoken weyrlingmaster's diatribe. "Do I owe you... congratulations? --I expect you have," Rafevan answers her last. "Rafevan, of the Smiths." Keysi nods, brought back down from wherever her head was to the current time, and the flood of past words back into her thoughts. "Very much so. I'm sure there's some steps to take. I just.. have... had.." She's not quite sure what this means yet, "No feet to stand on in the arguement, being just an onlooker." Until now, she suposes. "I need to speak to my journeyman. I'm not sure what this means for my Craft." She scratches her head, but at least the ever- serious girl has composed herself again. "Well met, Rafevan, and thanks." Is offered at the introduction, formal as always, "I'm Keysi, healer." She's sure he'd heard her name, but perhaps not the Craft. "Have you been here long?" To that, Rafe nods, his expression thoughtful; he considers Keysi. "Well. You could always decline," he points out with a lift of his shoulders. "I think the Weyr would understand, and surely you'd earn some points with your Craft as well, for your dedication. "It sounds like a different kind of dedication is due, though." Keysi moves her shoulders slightly in what may be an awkward shrug, "Maybe I'm clueless, and what the brownrider said before you arrived is right. Maybe all that matters is the dragon, and riders don't care. They just go wherever they're told and don't look back. Like us." Seems like she's more thinking outloud than trying to strike an arguement with Rafe, "I don't really believe that though. Surely there's something in a Weyr that's more bound than that." A beat, "Have you ever thought about Standing? Would you give up smithing to do it?" Rafevan just snorts at that. "For a lark at a dragon and a life of--what?" he says, with a shake of his head. "Set back my progress of knowledge, not to mention burn all my connections, my goodwill among our Masters? And not even for a reliable chance at something that might be better. I think not. I'm nearing to journeyman noow." "I just met a rider the other day who has been assisting around the infirmary. It sounds like in this time of Interval, some are keeping to other passions. The amount to learn.." Keysi sighs, dull grey eyes looking away from him to the floor. There's plenty of truth to what Rafevan says, but she seems stubborn in her thoughts. "Aye, it would be a set back, but you'd still be here. Would it really burn all of your connections?" Rafevan shrugs. "Maybe," he says. "I'd question how much someone values their craft, or perhaps their maturity at the least, if they were willing to throw it away so easily." A pause. "But, in the end, I suppose it's your choice, not mine. Good luck in choosing well." And he's straightening up from leaning on the wall, preparing to take his leave. Keysi narrows her eyes slightly. She's very good at tempering her temper.. unless her values are questioned. But given she barely knows the guy, she manages to keep her neutral non-expression present. Mostly. She's unable to restrain her clipped words. "I would question their perseverance if they thought it so easy to give up a life long love of knowledge by taking on a new challenge ontop of it." On the plus side, at least Rafe has made her choice for her. She takes his body language as a que, however. "I hope your journeymanship comes readily. I will see you around, I'm sure." Rafevan just adopts his own mild smile, with a nod of parting as he takes his leave back on his errands down the hall. |
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Comments
Edyis (01:09, 20 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
Quinlys and her soap box! This was really fun to read, and I loved seeing Keysi's thoughts on the Igen issue.
Azaylia (03:05, 20 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
...okay, I LOVE that Quinlys is being so verbal. So bold! It really makes things interesting, and I've always loved how strong her convictions are. <3 Keysi and Rafevan's discussion on craft vs. dragonriding was fantastic. ^^
Alida (03:19, 20 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
Gosh; I almost wish Alida was a fly on the wall. *giggle*
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