Logs:Riding To The Rescue
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| RL Date: 7 October, 2013 |
| Who: Quinlys, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys is recruiting. Telavi is recruitable. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 13, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, I'zech/Mentions, Oisa/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day. It's late, not quite time for a midnight snack, but late enough that good baker girls should be in bed before the next morning's bread-baking. But no, there's one chattering away with Tela and some other girls, a Benden rider among them-- even later her time-- which might explain the generosity of the snack even if it had been assembled on the premises: a large, only partially eaten flatbread redolent of garlic, with melted cheese and, on half of it, sliced olives and a few other good things. At least the ale's probably local. There's no rest for weary, overworked weyrlingmasters-- but there is the delicious scent of garlic, and that seems to be at least part of Quinlys' purpose in hastening her stride as she enters the kitchen. The others are strangers, but Telavi is not, and this is likely enough: the bluerider sidles up towards them and says, cheerfully and utterly unrepentant: "Smells amazing, that." She may be the weyrlingmaster, in her own right no less, but that doesn't mean she's old yet; the redhead is met by smiles. The Bendenite's is more polite before Tela leans to explain, "Quinlys, she's my weyrlingmaster," without specificity for tense or or possession, and brightens further when Tela adds, "And possibly a moocher. Are you a moocher, Quinlys?" It's another girl that passes over an actual piece, though, to see whether indeed she is. Quinlys makes a sound as if she intends to demur, but a piece of the flatbread is being passed her way, and really, can a girl properly resist such a temptation? "I'm not a moocher," she declares, cheerfully. "I just won't turn down anything handed my way. Anyway: thank you. In thanks, I have something for you, Tela, but it'll have to wait until my hands aren't greasy." That, of course, earns whistling, though not from Tela, who looks properly intrigued. "Anything?" comes from the girl with the short, perky ponytails on either side of her head like little ribboned tassels; "Then have another piece," from the baker, who looks nearly as smug as the Benden girl. Surely they must have been talking about something fascinating before Quinlys turned up, the earlier laughter speaks to that much, but apparently now she's their new entertainment. "Anything edible," corrects Quinlys, with a laugh. "Don't hand me a piece of firestone or cromcoal and expect me to chew down that gratefully." Or at all. She seems pleased - even a little smug, just to fit in - with the attention she's getting, though eating her piece of the flatbread stops her from adding anything else to the conversation immediately. She does, however, manage to aim a winning - and semi-secretive - smile in Tela's direction. "You didn't say anything about eating bef--" and ponytailed girl might have completed that if it weren't for Telavi's discreet use of elbow, and it's not long before the greenrider's extricating herself from the masses. Not to make it too easy on Quinlys, except for the part where it very much is'. Not to miss out on more of the flatbread either, because she's taking that with her, and after a long reach, her ale mug as well. Her hair's up in a ponytail's worth of braids, no sign of the caps she used to wear in weyrling days. A lazy shrug of Quin's shoulders answers that interrupted remark, not to mention her cheerful grin. "I'll give her back to you shortly, I promise," she tells the group before, flatbread in hand, she turns to traipse after the greenrider. "Not to take you away from your friends or anything, though I had been hoping I'd run into you," she says. "How's Boreal, sans Z'ian?" There's a brief moment where the tilt of Tela's head suggests the swing of loosened hair, but it can't shelter her expression when it's pulled up like that; "Not the same," she says unhappily. "We don't know what's going to happen, and Oisa doesn't have the same drive, or maybe it's that she's waiting for him to come back, we're all waiting for him to come back I guess but we don't know. Have you heard anything?" Please have heard something, anything, or says the way her teeth press momentarily against her lip. The sharpening of Quinlys' features and the low, regretful shake of her head answers Tela's question pretty authoritatively - but she puts it into words anyway. "Not a thing," she admits. "Officially. Except that it doesn't seem like he'll be back and Oisa... she's not someone I would make Wingleader, that's for sure." Not after Z'ian. The bluerider's hands are greasy, but that doesn't stop the free one from sliding into the pocket of her jacket. "I thought I'd offer you an out." Her lip pales under that press, and then Telavi releases it, if only to sip from her ale. Then she can afford a quick shake of her head that's agreement rather than otherwise. Agreement, and then interest, her gaze slipping to that jacket pocket but then, even more quickly, rising to Quinlys' face. Attentive. Waiting, at least this long. "I'm hiring assistants," explains Quinlys, her tone still breezy though she's watching Telavi's expression rather intently. "If you're interested. I think you could be good at it, and... well, it wouldn't have to be forever. A turn or so, and then you could reconsider. Maybe by then Boreal would be settled, and back to something... well, you know." Her brows lift, just slightly, asking the question that she echoes verbally a few moments later: "What do you think?" Another day-- before the accident-- Telavi might have demurred, to wait and see, but now those blue-today eyes look above all things grateful. "Please. I mean, there's someone I'd like to talk to before I say for sure yes... someone in the wing, I mean... but please." Though she does think to ask, "Why me, Quinlys? Your reasons, not just riding to my resc-- not that I need rescuing," but still and all, glad. Gratitude pleases Quinlys, but there's something about Telavi's demeanour that stops the bluerider from looking her usual smug. "Take all the time you need," she answers, seriously. "We've some time before Iesaryth's clutch hatches, and that's when I really need people on board. You-- you're smart, and you worked through difficulties in weyrlinghood, and you did so recently; that's useful, in my experience. I think it's something you could be good at." Pleasure wells up with the gratitude, and something like relief; the curve of Tela's mouth is softer, the sip of her ale shallower. "It's nice to know I can provide something," she admits, "instead of being just another young one. Four of us. Something that maybe someone else can't, as much. Who else will you have?" though she doesn't ask this as though there's likely to be a dealbreaker, or at least, no one she's yet thought of. N'gan... Now, finally, Quinlys beams - and as she does so, she extracts a knot from her pocket, offering it over. "If you decide against it," she explains, "just send it back. I've got J'vain and I'zech," and others, unnamed, "and then you, and Aishani suggested Alida at least for self-defense, but I guess I haven't raised that with her, yet." And she doesn't seem entirely sure. "And we'll see." Telavi doesn't snatch that knot, but she surely isn't shy about taking it and stashing it in her pocket. "I'll do that," she assures. "Does Oisa know yet? Do I have to... ask her, or can you just take me?" A second later she's blushing, and she's quick to add, "I could see Alida being good at it if she wants to, at least with the girls. Though I don't know how good she actually is instead of how good she makes me think she is?" Telavi, no expert, and she knows it. "I'll deal with Oisa," says Quinlys, utterly blase about the idea - as if she will quite happily steamroll Boreal's Acting Wingleader if she needs to, in order to get the people she wants. Which, in the end, may not be too far off the truth. "You just let me know for sure, when you're ready, and I'll take it from there. Keep it quiet until then, except with your friend." Of Alida, she sighs, reaching to run her fingers through her hair and then stopping: greasy, ew. "Maybe," she agrees. "Aishani said she might talk to her, which might go down better than me talking to her. We've never really... gotten along." Telavi's got a quick nod, though she does nibble briefly on her lip again, because what if friend turns into friends? "I'll keep it on the down low," she says like she's some stealth girl or something. Except, Quinlys, and Quinlys' hair, and Tela looks genuinely concerned for her all of a sudden. What's the bluerider come to? She does remember to add in time, "Oh." And, "That could be difficult, then," but not like she's suggesting ruling it out, not at all. "Is there anything else you'd like me to know? Oh! And... is it true the pay's at least a little bit better?" A dimple shows, right here, more rare of late than in months prior. "Just don't let Oisa hear," is Quinlys' belated conclusion to that. "And then you'll be fine. Easy." She wipes her hands on her trousers, instead, which is probably not as bad as it looks because, well, they look like they're ready for the wash anyway. Stupid weyrlings. "We can cover the rest once you're officially on board, but-- yes, the pay's better. You'll be in training at first, but even so, it's better than a wingrider's stipend. You won't know what to do with it all, really!" That dimple is encouraging this kind of lightheartedness. That dimple deepens. "You have no faith in my creativity," for disposing of stipends, or so Telavi would claim. "Is there anything else I should keep in mind? I suppose I shouldn't keep you," not even for flatbread, busy weyrlingmaster that she must be. Busy weyrlingmaster with dirty pants. Quinlys' smug beam brightens further, rather akin to a challenge. "It's not... easy work. Sometimes it's exhausting and full on, especially since we'll have two groups at different stages. But it's worth it, in my opinion." Perhaps she should have said all of that earlier. Never mind. "And I shouldn't keep you from your friends. Go, have fun. Come see me when you're ready to come on board, and we'll work the rest out then." "Of course it is," Telavi says a little too easily, even if she is trying to sound earnest; she can always quit if she doesn't like it, right? Right? "I'll do that. Thank you again, for thinking of me." That dimple shows up again. "Ma'am." Then she's off for more food, more ale, more company, all sorts of good things. And when she's asked what all that was about? She'll come up with something good. Can she? Will Quinlys let her? Given the self-satisfied smile Quinlys wears all the way out of the kitchens... that really does remain to be seen. |
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