Logs:Rules, Regs and Responsibilities
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| RL Date: 24 October, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Gallagher, Rhaelyn, Zev |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A discussion of rules, regs, and duties. The weather is the safest and briefest topic. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 1, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Rone/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
It could be worse: he could have drawn watch duty up on the Rim... like Alida did. Now, hours later, the bluerider appears in the living cavern, looking very wind-whipped and vaguely irritated. Enduring hours on end of cold and snow and that aforementioned, ferocious wind can do that to a person. Still wrapped tightly within the embrace of her riding leathers, the blonde walks a little stiffly towards the nearest hearth in search of warmth and food, her cheeks a little pale, skin just a hint cooler than normal. The only thing that still 'burns' within her are those verdant green eyes, which look all around and spot Gallagher pulling the evening shift. Rhaelyn has arrived. As the hour grows later, the Living Cavern has fewer bodies populating the tables. As such, a small section has been quartered off and in that section white-knotted Gallagher is just finishing up a mopping job. He sets the mop in the bucket and the bucket off to one side, re-arranging the 'Wet Floor' signs and stepping across the chair-made barricade that will hopefully save someone a broken bone, or at least the Infirmary some paperwork after a slip'n'fall. He heads toward the hearth intent on the klah pot steaming there, but by that hearth happens to be the wind-whipped bluerider. "Alida," He greets, lips a boring line but not a particularly unfriendly one, not that it's easy to tell when so many of his expressions just look about the same. "Gal..." the chilled woman murmurs in response to the candidate, a hint of the cold-stiffness showing in her body also heard in her alto. She doesn't dawdle to speak more with him, instead closing with the main hearth, and then undoing her jacket and hunching a little into the fire with a soft little groan. Warmth before food. Cold-stiff fingers move to pluck the thick gloves from them, fumbling just a little, revealing faintly pale digits. Small shivers occasionally run through her strong frame, but not a word of protest is given. Warmth is all, in this moment. A pair slip in from the cold. Male and female with arms looped around one another lightly, bundled in woolens and the usual layers rather than flight gear. The dark-haired woman cuts a look around the cavern warily as she comes in and then gives her wing-mates a little nod before she begins to unburden herself of the layers to enjoy the warmth inside. "Are you really hungry? Or was that just an excuse to actually take advantage of us having time off together for a change?" The woman's voice is cutting and cold as she shoots a look at the man beside her. It really does sound as though she's angry with him. At least, if you don't know Rhae. The man takes her extra layers as he unwraps himself from a layer or two of wool as well. "I really am hungry, I spent too much time working on that table today and only managed to grab a roll as lunch." Zev doesn't seem phased by the sharp look or the cold words, just smiling as he gives his response and then goes to drape the extra wool over the end of a bench not to far from the hearth so they'll warm up before the trip back out later. Gallagher isn't what you'd call chivalrous, but he's got enough sense to pour two mugs of hot klah and offer one over to Alida while she warms herself at the hearth nearest the entrance. The apparently angry tone snags his attention and his eyes draw to the pair who've just entered. There's a brief pause, because why get involved? But, well, he is on caverns duties, so when the bundled pair start divesting themselves of layers, he glances briefly ceilingwards with a put-upon look before baritone is lifted to offer, "Klah?" He might as well. Having weyrfolk circulating in and out some at this point in the night isn't odd, and so the soft voices she barely even catches hint of only make Alida glance stiffly over her shoulder for a moment - offering Rhaelyn and Zev a faint bob of head - before her attention is turned back upon the sustaining fire. And then there's Gallagher again, offering sustaining warmth in liquid form to her, which inspires the chilled bluie to chatter out a gruff, "People'll say we're in love..." Snerk. Grunted quite softly so as not to be overheard by anyone else but the candidate, "Thanks." Hands cup greedily about the ceramic of the mug to suck up the warmth of it even as she glances again over her shoulder...and notices that eye-rolling of Gal's. If she were warmer, in a better mood, the Glacier rider might smirk and snicker. Instead, only a low sound issues from her lungs for a moment...perhaps sounding a hint like one of Ilicaeth's rumbles. Rhaelyn looks up at the offering of Klah but she gives a small shake of her head, curling out a finger towards Zev, "I'm going to make him get it." She leans in and brushes an air kiss just a fraction of an inch away from the man's cheekbone. "He knows how I like it. I'm...picky." Haughty, the greenrider strides across the room, staying at Zev's side, even laying her arm around him so that her palm rests against his opposite hip as they make for the night hearth. "How are things going? I don't think I know you, boy--" If she sounded irritated at Zev, she sounds downright frosty at the boy. Zev gives a bit of a laugh as he finally disengages from Rhae to step in and start working on making the mug of klah to someones exacting specifications. He looks over his shoulder at the white-knotted lad and gives him a wink, "Don't let her frighten you, she's only half as means as she sounds." After one mug of klah gets the exacting treatment, a second mug gets slapped together for the crafter himself. Gallagher isn't so subtle about responding to the bluerider as she was about murmuring her remark to him. "Now, now," He tsks her, "Everyone knows that love in a Weyr is all about how often you're knocking boots with someone. And you've pointed out already that so far as you're concerned I'm off limits because of this fancy purity symbol." He flicks a finger toward his candidate's knot. His expression is deadpan, but there's a faint edge of humor in the delivery. "Besides, it's only scandalous for you, being in love with a candidate. Candidates fall for riders all the time, the way I hear it." He smirks now. The smirk takes on a twist that might be gratitude as Rhaelyn refuses his offer. "I never get between a woman who knows what she wants and her satisfaction." He makes an inviting gesture toward Zev as he steps aside. The 'boy' has him looking the most amused yet (which means his lips twitch a little), most likely because he looks about at an age with Zev as the 'Old Man' candidate of the bunch, "Well, ma'am, I'm Gallagher. Up from Crom to get all starry-eyed over the eggs on the hatching sands." The sarcasm for 'starry-eyed' is obvious. "Not me; the leaders uv' this Weyr..." the blonde 'chides' Gal, giving him a small smirk back. It's the smirking guard 'twins!' Okay... that is just enough to garner Alida's chilled attention once more, Rhaelyn's 'boy' comment eliciting a faint smirk of dark humor and a look towards Gallagher's reaction. Even Zev's reassurances to the candidate can't make her look away, those merciless green eyes of the bluerider's taking in the whole little scene as she sips her klah, slowly warms up. When the male guard responds amicably to the crafter and greenrider, the blonde bobs her head fractionally to him... then finally smirking again when he offers up his typical dollop of 'attitude.' It does a body good, ya' know. Rhaelyn's eyebrows lift slightly and she makes a soft snorting sound at Gallagher's remark about love being equal to sex, "Oh yes, you have it all figured out." She holds out her cold fingers for the mug of klah that Zev makes for her, even offers a: "thank you." Much to the shocked-amusement of her wingmates. Those are two words not often on her lips together. "I thought you could bang away as long as you don't get knocked up. Oups, I guess I shouldn't encourage bad behavior." Her lips twist in an attempt at an innocent expression. "Crom? Hmm--really?" she glances over to Alida with a curious question in her eyes, the bluerider appears to be more familiar with the candidate. Goodness, she needs to get out more. Then again, with her attitude, it's no wonder she spends most of her time locked away. Zev moves over a little further with his own mug of klah, taking a little sip. He gives a bit of a nod to the bluerider then tosses in a little polite chatter. "Cold night for duties I imagine. Think we're going to see more snow?" He glances back over at Rhae and just gives her a grin as she's being prickly, as usual. "That klah about right, Rhae?" "I do." Gallagher assures Rhaelyn, his lips twitching again as the sole sign of his amusement. "I mean, that's what all the Hold-bred candidates are telling me. Isn't everyone in the Weyr sex-crazed and just looking for their shot at us, innocents?" Nevermind that most candidates aren't innocent and that this search, most of the candidates have come from within the Weyr or from the Nabol refugees currently wintering with the Weyr to avoid Rone's army's hard work in their home territory. He does point a finger between Alida and Rhae. "I was going to say you needed to check your rule-book again, bluerider, but she's setting you to rights." The Crom-culled candidate turns his attention to Zev's much more civilized topic, "'Reaches in winter. Snow, snow, and more snow. The best is when you have to use the rope to get from here to the other side of the bowl, isn't it?" Deadpan, again, but he might be joking about his fondness for the activity because he doesn't sound all that fond either. Between glancing to the other three folks nearby and attending her klah, one likely cannot blame Alida for offering up only a vague 'huh?' kind-of look over to Rhaelyn's words of 'sex and candidacy,' the woman disguising any other reaction behind another careful sip of her klah. She can't ignore Zev's words, however, though the bluie lips off a clipped and hard-accented, "Feels like it, soon..." and letting that suffice for communication. Cue Gallagher's response, however, and it manages to bring a low wheeze of contained humor from the thawing blonde's lungs before she responds dryly to the candidate, "Okay; so call it personal preference... 'r a carry over from holder days." Shrug. She's turning back to the fire again, this time setting her drink down on the mantle in order to nab herself some chili from the pot hanging over the fire. Food! Zev nods at the blueriders response, but at her discovery that there is chili in the pot over the fire... well that brings a more interested response. "Is it still edible and not burned up?" he asks as he heads for a bowl from a side table. Seems he's going to give it a try even if it's dried and nigh inedible. It's only after he's getting chili that he tosses a comment towards Rhae, "Of course, avoiding completely is the best way to make sure you don't break that rule... even if more is permissible." Rhaelyn's nose crinkles up at the very idea, "I'm sure that all manner of perverts are out there hunting down the choice little tidbits. In my opinion, it's disgusting though." She sips her klah at the question on if it's good and nods her head in agreement, "It's just right. And I could go for chili if there's some. Or some cornbread?" It's rare that Gallagher volunteers details about himself, but he does so now, perhaps Rhaelyn's nose crinkling was too much for his tender (ha) heart. "If it helps ease your mind, I grew up here." Meaning, he doesn't believe it. "Just saying it's very enlightening to share a barracks with some of those young refugees who're seeing the Weyr for the first time. The rumors are-- well, something else. It does seem that bad reputations spread much further than good." He observes as he moves to slide onto an empty bench, back to the table to sip on his klah. "Seems to me, too, that romance, and especially the physical bits of it aren't what candidacy's about." "Looks okay ta' me," Alida observes back to Zev in her mile a second alto, the woman tipping her filled bowl a little to try and show both of them the thick stuff filled with herdbeast meat, tomatoes, black beans, bright spices. It does smell pretty good. And the cornbread... well, it's a little less than freshly baked, but still passable up there upon its wooden cutting board on the mantle. The bluie makes certain to tear off a healthy chunk of it to nom alongside her chili as the conversation progresses. The crafter's words to Rhaelyn have her touching the tip of her nose - hit the nail right on the head - the woman then pulling up a chair in order that she can settle her warming frame beside the fire and eat...and observe. She only listens to Gallagher while consuming her food, though, again, there's a touch of finger to her nose when he speaks about sex and romance not being the focus of candidacy. "I'm sure that the youngsters will transition just fine. Or they will transition with some difficulty, or they will die." Rhaelyn says it with an emotionless voice. Death, that's something that she's all too familiar with. She doesn't show her hand though, or her history. "So tell me what do you think is the point of being a candidate? Aside from being bait for the little dragons of course." Zev goes about creating two bowls of chili, one with a neatly cut square of cornbread, the other with a more mangled piece. He brings the more precise bowl over to Rhae and then finds a seat on a bench with his own bowl and takes a spoonful before he comments. "Right you are, pretty good batch today." Then he adds the follow on comment to his first about candidacy and intimacy, "Of course, afterwards, when there are riders and weyrfolk, well, that's a whole different story. When the nights get dark and cold so early, not a whole lot of options on how to pass the time and stay warm..." Zev's remarks about what happens after candidacy earn Gallagher's approving smirk for a moment before his expression shifts. Who knew Gallagher's face could become more serious than it usually is? It wasn't the thing about death. That doesn't seem to faze him. It's the question Rhaelyn poses. "Now that is a compelling question. And one it seems that all of Pern is debating. Not only what's the point of being a candidate, but what's the point of being a dragonman when there's no Thread to fight?" The perks of the Interval. "Between shorted tithes from two Holds in High Reaches sweep last turn and the Weyr not taking any overt action while Nabol's in internal distress, rebel riders and ruffians at Boll abducting goldriders like it's not high treason... Seems to me a lot of folks have forgotten that Holds have a duty to dragonriders and dragonriders duties to their Hold. Offering 'duties' as a polite turn of phrase has become empty." And something about that lights his fire, draws forth masked frustration. "What's the point for you, rider? Now that it's Interval. What purpose do you find?" He directs to Rhaelyn, though a glance to Alida invites her to answer if she likes as well. If Rhaelyn is trying to perturb either candidate or bluerider...well, she'll likely be disappointed. Alida simply continues to observe the triad just beyond her after Zev's done getting a meal for the two of them - her nod a little absent to him as he does so - then nodding again to the crafter's take on all bets being off after candidacy is done. "Aside from potential weyrlinghood..." she comments frankly. "And then ya get ta curl up with a fussy baby dragon that wakes up every 3 hours 'r so ta drive ya right up the fuckin' wall." Snert. And then, holy crap, Gallagher lets loose a bomb in answer to Rhaelyn, and it has Alida looking at him with even more respect and calculated interest than she'd unconsciously offered before. The Candidate's look towards her prompts a few moments for thought, then a measured alto, "My purposes 'r ta carry on the link from one generation uv riders to another, so that when Pass comes 'round again, they'll know how ta handle it decently." Sip. "Another one's ta keep the Weyr safe 'n sound fer riders 'n dragons. Next is ta offer some help noe 'n again ta those who fairly request it, regardless uv affiliation." Nom. "Uv course, the next is ta smooth my own path some...put my own talents ta use in makin' a bit uv extra coin fer me 'n Ilicaeth." Brow-waggle, shrug, omnom. Rhaelyn reaches for the cornbread and smiles to Zev, sitting down on his lap rather than beside him and she leans her body into his. Her expression doesn't change, she's not giving her opinion, just shrugs up her shoulders. "...duty to the Weyr and the honor of the..." she rattles off some well practiced, empty jargon and it's impossible to tell if she believes it or not. She's not going to go into her 'feelings' with strangers though. Yuck. To Zev she says, "Lets go back to the weyr." Zev gives a nod to Rhae and gets himself to his feet with his bowl of food. "Do we need anything else?" He doesn't seem to think so as he heads over to start putting on his wool over-garments and getting ready to help Rhae with hers. "Don't forget I've got to get up early, have to do another walking inspection." Which doesn't sound at all like much fun from his tone. Rhaelyn has left. A single brow arches at Rhaelyn's response, but the words are too empty to provide Gallagher something to sink his philosophic teeth into. He manages to remember to nod a polite farewell before his attention is given over to Alida's meaty response. There's a slight lean of his body now, a little toward the other former guard, "Those are all necessary and noble goals. But what I didn't hear exactly is how you're-" Presumably not just her, but the riders of High Reaches at large, "-going to be of service to your Holds. Not-" He waggles a single finger, showing he was listening, "-by when they make a request, but what will you do for them that they don't have to request that warrants their loyalty and continued fulfillment of their duties in a time when yours are less than they would've been in a Pass?" The debate is apparently on, because he's engaging more and showing a little more feeling than he has in any of their other discussions. The bluerider's expression is a poker one, her eyes guarded and cool as she observes Zev, Rhaelyn, even Gallagher, now, once the pair make their wish to leave apparent, and then do so. All she offers them is a small nod around her food, the bluie then listening quietly to Gallagher, as he's turned his focus upon her. Nothing of reaction can be noticed upon her, not even as a gold firelizard comes zipping in to land upon the blonde's shoulder, begging with somehow limpid eyes for a spoonful of chili. "Dratted thing..." 'lida finally sighs heavily, then offering Pyrite a chunk of meat from her fingers. As the flit trills and tucks into her treat, the former holder finally finds her voice again, though it's a measured, near emotionless one. "I'll do what I can." Sip. "When I can. Where I can." If he wants something more specific, he's not going to get it. Leaning just a little more toward Alida, Gallagher's voice drops to a softer volume. "Don't you think it's strange that it's turn thirty-three of the Interval-" Nevermind that Thread did fall since the official 'start' of the Interval, "-and you, as a rider, don't know what they want you to be doing in your duties to honor the Holds that keep you fed and clothed? I'm not saying the Holds are in the right for pulling the shenanigans they are, not for all that I've been living at one for the past--" He frowns, "-well, too long to mention in polite company, but I do find it odd. Even with how eventful things have ever been at High Reaches." He nails her with a stare that qualifies as fiercely intense. "Don't you?" Find it odd. "I think 'they' assume that Tradition 'n repetition'll get the job done..." Alida notes just as blandly in return, only a faint tensing of her jaw given. With a bit more animation, "I constitute polite company?" Snert. Looking up into the candidate's blue eyes with her own unblinking directness, the bluie murmurs low, "I find a shitload uv' things odd, these days." Nearly under her breath, and barely loud enough for Gallagher to hear, "D'you want yer view aired out in public fer everyone ta know?" Cue a look around from under long, pale eyelashes. Almost as quietly, "Yer practically up in arms about all this shit, candidate. Why the intensity? I mean... Guards 're not supposed ta get too wrapped up in shit." At that, she can't help but making a faint nose-wrinkle...a little of Alida's cynicism rearing its head in the process. Alida's question about polite company prompts another waggle of Gallagher's finger at her, "We talked about open books. Polite company is anyone who only gets to see the table of contents." A category she currently falls into, if she's even permitted that much, though he did give her the run-down, more or less. But that's hardly the point. "My view that I find it odd? Sure. Don't mind that being known. It's not exactly a scandalous point of view, now is it." It's not like he's said it should be this way or that way, just that he finds it odd. And the description of up in arms... well, really? It just means he's got inflection in his voice and he's making slightly more facial expressions than usual. He's hardly a hot mess over it. The intensity is there in the lean of his body, but only a student of body language like Alida might put all these things together to draw the conclusion that he's up in arms about it. Still, her saying so has him sitting back slowly. "Guards are slaves to duty and honor. When it suits the outfit they're serving. But there are higher callings in life than serving a duty such as protecting a pretty rock at a forgotten hold." He doesn't explain that one. He does, however, allow a little more insight: "World's going crazy, and I live in it." That in of itself is enough of a reason for him to care. "Some duties must always be fulfilled or the world is given over to anarchy and bloodshed. Do you see what I do? Which way does it seem the world you and I are both living in seems to be going?" "Slaves...unless we break the chains..." Alida murmurs quietly, feeding Pyrite another chunk of meat, then eating some more herself. It takes effort to be bland, and having a physical outlet helps hide some telltale signs of such. As Gallagher sits, she takes a sip of klah, then looking down into her bowl to scrape up the last of what's in it with spoon. Quietly, as the blonde looks up directly into his eyes again, "What do you do..?" Pause, eat, chew, swallow. "It's goin' crazy by increments." Murmur. "The center cannot hold." Cue a gusty sigh, and a languid stroking of her pet's headknobs. "Z'ian..." Cue a headshake, then a concerned, thoughtful look. It's her effort toward blandness that prompts Gallagher's own neutrality to reassert itself, leaning back fully against the table as he lifts his klah mug. He swallows the now cool drink down. That's the answer she gets for her trailing question. "Food for thought, anyway." He closes the topic neatly before rising. "I'd best get back to the barracks before they find me non-compliant with the lights out reg." Guard lingo is meant to bring balance. Yep. He's a guard. A simple guard. Nothing more to see here, folks. "Good night, Alida." He steps toward the inner caverns and the barracks beyond without hesitation. For her, this isn't the time or place for such intense discussion, and with Gallagher's withdraw comes a small flood of relief on Alida's part...well hidden. The look in her eyes for just a moment says it all to his words of breaking the regs: bullshit. For his goodnight, the candidate gets a low, "Later, Gallagher." Not 'Gal.' She means business, later. He can't skip out on this that easily. As for the bluie and her pet...they'll spend the next ten minutes eating some more, warming up more...and then heading off to the baths for a long and very introspective scrub and soak session. |
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