Logs:Risks vs Rewards
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| RL Date: 16 April, 2016 |
| Who: Alysce, Quint |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Harpers talk of risks and rewards, and the Journeyman sets his apprentice another task. |
| Where: Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 7, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Silva/Mentions |
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A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a
refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework
captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the
day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the
dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and
various flora.
Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an
assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike.
Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting
in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving
is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the
softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst
the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this
a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.
Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small
hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with
cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for
irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans
and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting
materials tucked underneath. The pleasant, echoing sounds of a flute are audible within the greenhouse. To the untrained ear it's a pleasant, easy sound, indistinguishable from any other. To the trained here, there's an odd tonal quality to it, and the reason is obvious when the source of the music is viewed. Quint's seated on one of the benches in the middle of the greenhouse -- for the best acoustics, no doubt -- holding the reed flute he picked up as a mere bamboo stick during their journey, and has been working on slowly here and there ever since. While the flute is largely straight, there's a slight kink to the material that gives it an odd burr in sound as he plays, though that doesn't seem to stop the Journeyman from the enthusiastic rendition of the familiar ditty of the girl who cried thread. There is hardly a whisper of sound that makes it over the music of Quint's flute that would warn him of his company, Alysce's slippers soft against the path and quieter still for the graceful way she carries herself. Her harper blue is worn in the form of a soft shift-dress, skimming bare curves and leaving her shoulders bare to the summer sun except for the straps. She doesn't interrupt while he plays; instead, she will help herself to a seat on the bench beside him without saying a word, only quirking one silent, smirking smile at him as she plucks imaginary dirt off her skirt once settled. There's no physical acknowledgement of her arrival from her Journeyman, except in that way of his -- Quint's newly made flute sounds a merry trill of welcome that isn't ordinarily part of the standard song -- before he continues. It's only when he finishes, the sounds of the music still echoing and dying in the glass-walled room, that blue gaze settles on Alysce with a grin, lowering the flute. "Mm. No harper worth his salt would put his stamp to this instrument, but I kind of like the burr. It's a nice reminder." Of that afternoon when he got soaked to his knees trying to retrieve the material for it, maybe. "An imperfect instrument to remember; yes, sounds about right," counters Alysce teasingly, her nose wrinkling as she lifts dark eyes under the fan of equally dark lashes to meet Quint's lighter gaze. She flicks her fingers and the imaginary dirt between them at Quint, before holding out that same hand in a gesture to wait for the instrument to be handed over. "You know, you could have a dozen of these from the Hall in a moment with a stamp. I told you that before, but no, you wanted to wade into dirty, infested, swampy water." "Well, no one ever remembers the perfect ones -- that's the whole point," Quint replies, with all sincerity, regarding the instrument almost fondly. After a moment, with a reluctance that is probably feigned, given how obvious it is, he places the instrument into his apprentice's waiting hand. "I told you, swampy water instruments have soul," he says, almost precisely in the same, defensive tone as he did at the time. Alysce's fingers flit over the holes bored into the reed, feeling out the spacing there for all that she never brings the instrument to her lips. Instead, she tells him, "And I told you, you're lucky you didn't catch something nasty and die." She frowns, pinning a faze on Quint for a moment as she twists the flute in her hand. "Or are you just avoiding the Hall? First sending me, and then the trip--. What, are they thinking of making you a Master and you don't want it?" That last is said jokingly, but not without the apprentice's natural curiosity buried there. "Life is full of risks and opportunities," Quint says, his tone close to one of lecture, his gaze following Alysce's inspection of the instrument, "One has to judge when one outweighs the other. If you always side with the risks, nothing in life will ever be interesting." Something passes quickly across his features as she asks the latter. "I'm not the one avoiding the Hall," he replies by way of answer -- or so not much, as the case may be. "But this," Alysce waves the flute with a exaggerated sigh before she offers it back to her Journeyman, "Definitely was not the risk that was worth it. Even if you say so." But she offers a simple smile anyways, not really invested in that argument when it's clear by that brief change in his expression that she's stumbled onto something. Her attention only sharpens on Quint, hoping to read something further as she continues to prod carefully. "They are, aren't they? Making you a master? Recalling you back to a teaching post at the Hall? What?" A pause and then she threatens, "I will ask Allent and Scenna." There's a subtle kind of wince from Quint when Alysce waves the flute around, before he accepts it back with a graciousness, resting it against a knee. "Each person ascribes different weights to things. For example, I view an apprentice who stands as taking a huge risk -- that they might not be able to go back to their craft, ever, that they might give up what they love for something they may not even like. But many judge that an acceptable risk." It's the latter that makes him laugh, briefly. There's, perhaps, a denial on his breath, but it goes unvoiced at his apprentice's mention of talking to her parents. "Speak to them, then," he calls her bluff, with a tilt of head. Dark eyes remain on Quint for a moment, reading his stubbornness and trying to determine whether this is a conversation she can press or not and gain more information. Her deduction becomes apparent with a huff of breath and a flick of silky hair over one shoulder as she answers instead, "There's never anyone who doesn't love their dragon, at least. That is something that all of the riders agree on." Quint's gaze remains unilluminating, only the faintest twitch of lips after she huffs out her breath. "There is love, and then love. Do you think it is a constant, the same for every rider? Or is it, like the loves we have, for family and friends -- degrees of measures?" His fingers tap at the flute in his lap for a moment. "Perhaps an interesting study, for someone seeking their Journeyship." The thought is spoken and just as quickly dismissed. "Ah. I do have a task for you, though." "But I'm not seeking my Journeyship," counters Alysce dismissively, her shoulder rolling up in a careless shrug even as a smirky smile touches the corners of her lips again. "But I think I do know enough about love--." The topic is forgotten at the last, her brow curving upwards as she leans slightly forward on the bench towards her Journeyman. "What task?" "I wasn't speaking, obviously, of you," Quint says, as blithely as anything. "You've made your ambitions well known," he adds, matter-of-factly. It's her talk of love that has the Journeyman's brows rising. "Do you, indeed?" there's a challenging note in there, easy to ignore since he allows her to divert the topic to the task he has for her. "It's one you should find easy enough. I need you to travel to weaver and get some clothing made up. I'll write down all the details and give you the marks. There'll be some spare, so you can negotiate with some of the apprentice if you want something made up for yourself. Only, you must have a specific rider take you, without letting her be aware you're seeking her out specifically." Alysce only tosses her hair again in a flicked gesture, answering his question with a curve of her brow before focusing on the other challenge put before her. "Not that complicated. Or well, nothing that some fake tears and a companion who abandoned me at just the right time can't solve," she suggests thoughtfully, waiting for him to continue. With a flickered gesture, Quint says, "As you will," to her suggestion of how she might approach the situation. "The rider is Silva; her dragon is Zaisyreth, a blue. I'd like you to take her measure and report back to me." "Alright. It might take a couple days to get her in the right place at the right time," says Alysce in warning, too used to these requests of the Journeyman to question why he wants a report on the bluerider. "What are you having made? It's about time we updated your wardrobe." "No hurry," Quint assures her, "I know you'll get it done." He makes a face at her latter words, glancing down at his blue tunic. "Just a few new tunics, cut in a newer style, and slightly different material for the colder months." In harper blue, of course. "And a few other bits and pieces." Alysce wrinkles her nose at his answer, because of course she does, letting out an exaggerated sigh of impatience before she adds, "If you'd only let me make the choices for your clothes once, you'd see--." Her teasing is complete with the prod of her finger at his leg and the flash of a smile. "If you want to spend the leftover coin all on me rather than you, feel free," Quint says, knowing perfectly well how likely that might be. "Maybe I will," is Alysce's ominous reply, though lacking of committment as it is. The conversation is abandoned easily, however, as she recalls with an excited, "Oh, did I tell you?" It is the precursor to her usual gossip since she launches right in to, "One of the vitners in Snowasis was caught cheating at cards the other day. With dragonriders, which, you would think--." Quint looks singularly unconvinced by Alysce's threat, as well as he knows her. Instead, with his usual, easy acceptance, he listens to Alysce's gossip with what appears to be avid interest, asking questions here and there about the people involved. Finally, though, dinner calls, and he rises, gesturing with the intent of escorting her towards the bustling caverns. Having some to gossip at, having the simple company of her Journeyman, as always brightens Alysce. She is happy to tease and gossip and accompany him to dinner, though afterwards, he'll finally get a reprieve as she peels herself away to go find people her own age (or ones that are more open to her advances). |
Comments
Silva (22:45, 5 June 2016 (PDT)) said...
Some day I'll log on and see people and this will TOTALLY happen. <3 <3
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