Logs:Seeking Employment
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| RL Date: 27 October, 2013 |
| Who: Ali, Faye |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Faye seeks employment at Fort Weyr's new gambling establishment, and strikes a deal with Ali. |
| Where: Ali's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 2, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Shevena/Mentions, Reyvar/Mentions |
| The snow is fully coming down, and while other people are crowding into the warmth of the common areas, Ali's apparently decided that trudging through a blizzard is a little more than she can handle at this stage of her pregnancy. The hearth burns merrily, spilling warmth out onto the ledge; even Isyath has been driving inside and dozes in her wallow. Inside, Ali's settled on the couch with some cooling tea, apparently knitting. And talking to herself: "...and Edmur will be ten months older than you. I'm sure you'll get on well, but I'm hoping you can have another brother sooner than later." Faye looks every inch of her journey through the snow and ice that's swirling about the bowl, her jacket coated with a heavy dusting of ice-crystals in various states of melting, her appearance one of disarray until she lowers her hood and steps just inside the entryway of the weyr; just enough to inch out of the cold. Miraculously, her hair has remained perfectly presentable, as has the kohl lining her eyes, which has not bled or run. "Weyrwoman?" That single word is polite, her voice raised only enough to carry, and no sign of her moving a muscle, in anticipation of a response. She clasps her hands before her, straightens her shoulders, and waits. There's a slight twitch from the queen, a flicker of tailtip, maybe, or slight parting of some of her eyelids. Perhaps it's that, or perhaps Ali just recognizes the assistant headwoman's voice, for her easy, "Come on in," is rather casual. "Would you like some tea? It's really coming down out there, isn't it?" the dark haired woman's setting aside her knitting in order to push ungainly to her feet and collect a second tea cup. The study made of Isyath is one that's either reined-in fascination or wariness; it's difficult to tell which, for Faye's gaze lifts calmly from queen to rider without longing to return to the gold, nor seeking to avoid the sight of her. "I will be--" she begins to say, only then Ali is getting up and that response is adapted to make her journey worthwhile. "I would appreciate that. Thank you." The few steps she takes into the Weyr are slow and measured, as if she's considering just how far is too far. "I think it would be advisable to stay inside," she agrees, reaching a halt. "I've come to you because you are the probable next link in the chain or perhaps the start of it," is announced without explanation, but is a declaration of intent. "Chain?" Ali echoes, with the first hint of curiosity - glancing from the hearthside towards the other woman with a furrow of brow. Pouring some fresh tea, she holds it out towards Faye in invitation - which also seems to be a more subtle invitation to come closer to the hearth for warmth. Adjusting her shawl, the junior tips her head thoughtfully. "After Ista, I'd have thought you'd be wanting to keep your head down." Faye straightens her shoulders the tiniest bit more, if that's even possible, and regards Ali with a steady, even stare. "We did nothing to that girl," she claims. "And I have endured my punishment without complaint, ma'am." There's a Bitran sharpness there, around /complaint/, her diction crisp. She seems reluctant to head further into the weyr than is necessary, yet more reluctant for the weyrwoman to continue holding out that tea, and so she moves to retrieve and accept it. "Thank you." She glances down into the cup, then back up at Ali. "Your brother is involved in a venture for which he is both well and ill-suited." Once Faye has accepted the cup, Ali settles one hand on her stomach, an absent gesture as she regards Faye. "So you have," the junior acknowledges with a fleeting smile, although it falters immediately and becomes something closer to a frown at the latter comment, unusual for the dark-haired woman. There's something immediately protective in the way the goldrider says, "Whether he is or not is no business of yours. I think you should finish your tea." There must be some measure of deliberate misinterpretation in how Faye finds the nearest flat surface upon which to set down her tea, its contents too hot to be consumed immediately, or perhaps she just takes that advise as literally as she can. "I think I have the potential to be very damaging or very good for both of you, and since my intentions do not presently align themselves with the former, I request that you hear me out." Not that she gives so much as a couple of seconds before she continues. "His debt was great, was it not? It pleases me that he has found a way out of it. I have seen similar stories find much less satisfying conclusions." Ali's never been that good at hiding her emotions, and tonight is no exception: the longer Faye talks, the more anger sparks in the woman's expression, hands folding across her chest. She's silent, however, listening avidly, gaze cutting past briefly at a noise from the outer weyr. With a press of lips, she says in a low voice, "Your Bitran nature betrays you, Faye. What do you want?" By contrast, Faye is doing very well at hiding her feelings, the only indication of /any/ emotion - and whether the weyrwoman is correct or not - a curious lift of her brows as she processes Ali's anger. "I mean you no harm, ma'am. Quite the contrary. I see no reason to become... hostile over the truth." Her hands lace back together before her, her stance one of military sharpness, or one who has been carefully instructed in the art of body language. "There are few games that exist that I do not know how to run - and there are few tricks that I'm unfamiliar with. Your client base is likely to made up of those I know or have heard of. I'm willing to work for you, on your terms. That is all I ask." That puts Ali completely off guard, staring at the other woman a moment before she says, "You want- to /work/ for me?" It takes her a moment to realign her thoughts, turning away and striding towards the couch to sink down. "You're- blackmailing me into giving you a job?" there's disbelief in the junior's words as she rearranges her shawl. "If- if I don't, you'll tell everyone, I suppose. Sit down." That's an order, distracted yet well-practiced. Faye's dip of brows is not quite a frown, her head tilting a little as she insists, "I do not believe that blackmail is involved here. I have simply told you some of what I am aware of and what I wish to do." She does as she'd told and takes a seat, though she sits just as straight as she was standing. "It is true that the information has the potential to be damaging, if it were used against you," she agrees. "I have the skills to increase your chances of the venture being a success and the connections to try and keep your brother from harm's way. You know this about me; I would not have the Weyrwoman or Headwoman know. It could almost be a fair exchange, no?" "Not precisely /fair/," Ali replies, leaning forward to collect her tea, taking a moment to take a sip of it in an attempt to regain her equilibrium. Faye's words have clearly unsettled her, and it's a moment more before she speaks, her voice less intent, albeit still somewhat uneven, "And how am I to trust you won't use these skills to take advantage of the venture yourself? Play the loyal card, learn the routines, then one night take all the marks you can get your hands on and disappear off into the night?" The answer is simple, delivered not as jest, nor threat: "Because I believe /that/ card has already been played. It is not one that I am familiar with." Faye is dismissive to the point of boredom about the prospect of marks, moving swiftly on to say, "I have little interest in what profit you make. I would ask a fair wage, but my interests lie elsewhere." There's a tightening of lips, though the junior refrains from commenting on the first point. "Where, exactly? I'll offer you a fair wage, a good job, but in return, I want to know what /you/ get out of it. Those are my terms," Ali says, with a finality underscored by the drop of her cup onto the table. "Your clients will be familiar with Bitra. I wish to hear what they know." Perhaps Faye would give away no more, but then she looks away from Ali and flexes her shoulders back, considering. "I wish to stay here. I have worked hard and endured a punishment for something that did not actually occur, save for in the minds of those who considered themselves slighted." She takes a breath, then swings her gaze back to the goldrider. "I have no debts and I have committed no crime, but I do not wish to return to where I was raised. The more I know, the more I am at ease. /And/ the more I am of use to you." There's something interested in Ali's gaze, all of a sudden, a brief flare that she covers by sitting forward and resting hands on her knees. "Very well. You seem interested in information. I'll give you a job - and I'll pay you a little more on top out of my own funds, if you pass on what you hear about the Weyr. Gossip, rumors, threats, jokes, plots. I don't intend for this place to ruin the Weyr, and I'll do anything to protect it. If what you say is true, you should have the same agenda. Do we have a deal?" She turns her hand, palm up, holding it out. Faye holds up a hand, not to accept, but to gently, if firmly, refuse that offer of further funds. "I promise you, I have no interest in marks. A wage will do well enough - and if I am as good as I claim, you should find your clients tip favourably. I will happily pass on anything that I hear. It is not my intention to bring ruin to anyone." Only then does she reach to shake Ali's hand. "I believe we have a deal. Thank you." As she retreats back into her own space, she gathers herself to stand, but hesitates. "May I offer you some advice?" Surprise passes across Ali's face at Faye's adjustment of their deal, but when time comes to shake she does so without hesitation. Politeness would dictate that she should stand when her guest does, but for once, she forgoes that, letting her hand drop back to her stomach. She nods her head for Faye to go on, wordlessly watching the other woman. "Though success is, of course, the aim... do not let your brother become too... notorious for being so. Debts may be paid, but grudges? Gambling does not run itself on marks alone. Success is a quick way to awaken jealousy." Faye adjusts her coat around her as she finds her feet, a nod given in understanding or farewell. "Thank you, weyrwoman. I trust that you will... inform the Headwoman that I have been reassigned?" Ali's lips press together faintly, clearly not liking Faye's commentary as regards to her brother, though at least the anger doesn't make it into her voice as she says, "I'll bear that in mind." A nod, for the latter comment: "I'll speak with Shevena tomorrow. Take care crossing the bowl; Issy says it's coming down harder, now." The queen is awake, watching through a sliver of gaze, though her posture is one of relaxation. "Ma'am." Another nod, then Faye turns sharply to clip her way from the weyr with the merest brush of her dark eyes over Isyath in the second before she slips back outside into the snowstorm, her hood drawn up to protect her from the elements. If she falls her way down the stairs and back to the bowl, at least the sound of the storm will drown out any indignant cursing. |
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