Logs:Run By Children
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| RL Date: 24 April, 2009 |
| Who: Evayne, K'del, W'chek |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Evayne and newcomer Whitchek distract K'del from the work he doesn't really want to work on. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 7, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. Outside, the sun is finally setting on (yet another) lovely summer's day, High Reaches style. Inside, there are people about in various places, though not so many of them have chosen the Nighthearth - it's probably still too nice to sit outside. This leaves K'del one of the few occupants, the result of which is that he positively lounges in his overstuffed armchair, flipping through his reading material with the laziness of one who'd really rather be doing other things, but will make the token effort all the same. Every movement, every step Whitchek takes is slow, stiff as the shuffling of an elderly uncle. Well, nearly. Nobody's going to mistake one of his age for a grandparent with advanced joint problems. He collapses into a chair with a huge exhalation of breath and wipes the sheen of sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve, but it appears again nearly as soon as he's pulled his arm away. "Well," he says evidently to himself, "nobody can say I'm not doing my part." The supreme interestingness of whatever it is that K'del is reading is apparent in the way his eyes duck immediately at the sound of someone else, even if it's pretty obvious he himself is not being addressed. The young man pauses only a moment, then notes over his collection of papers, "Looks too real to be water you've spritzed onto yourself, I suppose." The smile on his lips, quirked just slightly at the edges, is a good indication that he's teasing. It's not madness to talk to yourself. It's only madness when someone answers, isn't it? Whitchek starts, then catches K'del in the nearby chair. The smile he returns is toothy with relief, but fades a little as his eyes light on the man's knot. A little bit of apprehension tempering the expression. "Yes, well. Sir. Might have felt good, a splash of cold water, today. Rearranging crates in storage all day." The last sentence gets special emphasis, like, look, he's earning his keep. Really. "K'del," corrects the young Weyrleader, making a face at the use of the word 'sir'. He's curled up, looking enormously lazy, in one of the overstuffed chairs, and has just now given up all pretence of actually reading the reports he's surrounded in. "Least the caverns are cool to begin with, though, right? Not that it helps a great deal. "Feel your pain, though," he adds, sounding genuinely sympathetic. One hand up and ruffling through her hair and the other holding a mug as she wanders in, Evayne draws up briefly at the threshold to the little nook area before venturing in further, apparently finding it safe enough to do so. There's a little respectful chin-lift sent K'del's way, though no verbal greeting, and a quick study made of Whitchek as she circles around for a chair that's at least a polite distance away from the both of them. Ah, comfy room. She even stifles a yawn, though she doesn't really look all that sleepy. "True 'nough," Whitchek agrees with K'del, again appending also by instinct, "sir." He stretches in his own chair, sinking down in it until he looks to be in danger of sliding out of it entirely. "Feels good. Don't think I could lift a spinner web right now. Will sleep solid tonight." He catches the young woman's entrance but seems to pay it scarce mind. Too much effort to sit up straight, even. K'del repeats himself, though without sounding too harsh about it, "/K'del/. I'm probably younger than you are." And this, evidently, is the most important point. "Mm, know that feeling. Nothing like a good solid day of hard work." His smile is rueful, matched with a glance down at his work that doesn't linger; a moment later, his head is lifting again, just in time to note Evayne, whom he greets lazily - "Evayne, evening." "Evening," Evayne greets K'del, once she's plopped down and curled herself up into her chosen chair, kicked her boots off and generally made herself comfortable. Sip from mug. "Letting you dream, again?" With the lift of an eyebrow, the question she directs at the Weyrleader apparently not only makes sense to her, but is supposed to make sense to him, too. She does cast a friendly-enough smile towards Whitchek, sitting up straighter or not. With a nod, Whitchek agrees amiably: "I wouldn't doubt it. This does seem to be a region run by children after living in Nabol." He finally hauls himself up a few inches at Evayne's settling in, at least to be able to see her properly over the arm of the chair. "Evening," he adds to her. He wipes his face on his sleeve again and this time his forehead stays dry. It's as close as he's going to come to trying to make himself presentable. K'del stiffens just slightly at mention of 'children', his teeth settling to rest upon his lower lip as he breathes in, and then out again. Then, mildly, "Perhaps it does. Happens in Holds, too, sometimes, of course. Just the way it goes." Breathe. Evayne's question seems to confuse him, because he hesitates visibly before answering, and when he does, sounds unsure. "Um. Right. Got to try." And dream? Oh, well. Evayne turns her head to more directly look at Whitchek at the word 'children' as well, eyebrows lifting. There's a flicker of annoyance there, but she chases it away soon enough, settling back and taking another drink from her mug. K'del's confusion draws out an easy grin, and she unwraps one of her hands from her mug to wave it around in a dismissive sort of fashion. "Nevermind," she says, tone warm enough. "You are well, I hope?" Whitchek goes on blithely, "I expect Nabol will have old men for a few generations to come at this rate. He'll hold on until he's a hundred if he has any say in it, and at least one of the sons will outlive him just out of pique." He clears his throat, as though realizing that this probably isn't helping. "Didn't mean any harm by it, anyway." And then he shuts up, which might be healthier. It takes K'del several moments to actually release his obvious tension, but when he does, it's with a laugh for what Whitchek says next. "Too true. Gotta suck for them - never getting /their/ chance, with him hanging on like that. And those young wives! You from Nabol, then?" The implication, of course, is 'you're not from around here'. "Sorry," he adds to Evayne, gracing her with another, more rueful smile. "Yeah, I'm not too bad. Better, once these reports are done, but no doubt there'll be something else, then. You? Keeping busy?" Was that said archly? Whitchek's words on old men give Evayne a moment of consideration that's concluded with a little wrinkle of her nose, though no commentary. She /can/ actually be a little bit quiet, once in a while. K'del's apology has her eyes coming back to him, a quick shake of her head given as she flashes another smile. "Don't be," she says. "And yes, I am sure there's a whole stack of something elses, lucky you." Pause. "Of course I'm keeping busy. Except for right now, unless you count 'busy relaxing', which is all that I'm doing." She's curled up in one of the chairs, sitting a polite enough distance away from the two men, boots on the floor in front of her. "Well, wife. One at a time, so far," says Whitchek with a wry smile. "From the area at any rate." And two conversations at once between possibly too much burden for someone the Weyrleader's age, he attempts to merge them: "Busy relaxing seems like an excellent thing to be tonight." Of course, since he has absolutely no idea what's going on between the two of them, it's a platitude and nothing more. "No wonder he's had so many, though. Must wear them out." His tender turns, indeed, must make this difficult, and perhaps this has something to do with why he neglects to do more than nod to the information of Whitchek's origins, and, instead, twists his head from one to the other to continue, "Always. Always, always, always a stack of something elses. Don't tell you that, when you - well. Don't sign up." Rueful. But lazy, still: very lazy. wordless acceptance of most of what Evayne has to say leads him to concluding, "Busy relaxing is good. S'what summer is all about, right?" "Summer nights, at least," Evayne agrees with K'del lightly, taking another drink from her mug and flashing that smile of hers Whitchek's way again. "It /is/ an excellent thing to be, and a room like this just encourages it." There is a little wiggle of her toes, and she's sitting up enough to be more proper about conversing with Whitchek. "I've been through that area...more than once," she says. "It's nice, there. What brought you here?" For some reason, Whitchek's ears go a bit red and he scratches at one as he replies, "You know. Just wanted to see a bit more of the world, all that. Thought, you know, dragons, very exciting... very big, anyway. Not quite as exciting as you think when you're six or seven, are they? S'pose nothing is." "But summer days-- well. Used to be, anyway. Swimming and sunning. Guess we all grow up, eventually." K'del smiles blandly for his obvious moodiness over this subject, but breaks off to let the other topics take over, giving Whitchek thoughtful consideration. "Got bored?" he surmises, having listened to the other young man's words. "Though - /I/ still found them pretty exciting, when I got here. You going to tell us your name at some point?" For all that she's watching Whitchek a little more closely since his ears have turned red, Evayne does send a sympathetic smile over in K'del's direction. Still, she doesn't say anything about it, letting that topic go -- at least for the time being. At K'del's question of the other man, she speaks up, "I'm Evayne." In case he didn't catch it earlier. "Whitchek," says, well, Whitchek, compressing the syllables almost into one, the two vowels sounding almost identical. "Bored... you could call it that, yeah. Too much left to do before I haul myself home and make with the proper adulthood. Figure I have a few Turns left to put it off, might as well make the best of it." K'del repeats the name, thoughtfully, testing it on his tongue: "Whitchek? Right. Whitchek. Welcome to the Reaches." He shifts, stretching out his shoulders as he adds, "Ah-hah. Not yet ready to settle down and do the-- family thing? Something else?" Beat. "Should head on home. I should, I mean. Else I'm /never/ going to get this report ready." Which is the point at which he rises, beginning to draw his things together. "You're lucky you're able to do such," Evayne comments, smile touching wry before her attention is jumping back over to K'del, her eyes following him as he rises and starts to pick up the piles of work. "Good luck with the report," she tells him. "It was nice to see you, even if it /did/ mean we ended up interrupting your working. For which I am /almost/ sorry, but not quite. Have a good night." The welcome is given a nod in response. "No rest for the--people in charge," says Whitchek with a smile to K'del. "It was good to meet you." Then eyebrows raise a little towards Evayne. "I'd hardly be the first. Almost a tradition in a lot of spots. Sowing wild oats, not that I have the faintest idea what that was originally supposed to mean." "You are," agrees K'del, alongside Evayne's comment, with a sharp nod of his head. "Make the most of it." He laughs outright at the rest of the Trader's comments, noting warmly, "Nice to see you, too. And - realistically? If I'd actually intended to get it done, I wouldn't've come here. But I have plans for the night, so the procrastination has got to stop, else she'll be annoyed at me. Good night, nice to have met you, see you both soon, no doubt." K'del, evidently, sows his wild oats close to home. As it were. You head to the inner caverns. |
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