Logs:Stewardship
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| RL Date: 16 June, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, R'hin |
| Involves: Tillek Hold, Benden Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Near the end of her vacation, Faryn finds herself spirited away by R'hin, as is the status quo. |
| Where: Docks, Tillek Hold; a minor hold in the Benden area |
| When: Day 25, Month 12, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Backdated like whoa, for reasons. |
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| The onset of winter has not particularly lessened the activities on the Tillek docks; fish are fish, and boats are boats, and the weather can't ruin their livelihoods. If anything, there's been a sudden increase, while the more wary get while the getting is good, so as to avoid more treacherous trips later. A small group is standing on the docks, shielding their eyes from the sea spray while they watch one such boat boat careen its way towards the landing. Faryn is among them, bundled down in an oiled and fur-lined jacket and sheltering herself from the worst of the gusts between two taller men that bear a canny resemblance to her. The downside of her shelter? She can see next to nothing, which is maybe why her gaze wanders skyward every now and then, not actually expecting to see anything except maybe the rainclouds, which are only just starting to be extremely frequent with the onset of winter. Certainly she doesn't give much regard to the winged figure that pops into existance above the hold proper, and indeed doesn't give it a second thought as her family moves forward in concert, the boat close enough to finally throw a line out. There's a kind of simplicity about an act often repeated, a comfort and familiarity that leads one to complacency. Certainly, the other figure that appears on the docks in full riding leathers probably isn't obvious at first -- he doesn't seek to draw attention to himself, merely watches as the family assists the boat and goes about their day-to-day business. Still, R'hin's pale gaze takes it all in, and it's only a matter of time before he's noticed by one of them. Faryn's father, it is, who reeled in by his sons steps off the boat first, surveying the crowd for anything odd and finding it in that bronzerider. "One of yours?" he'll ask, even as she slips forward to greet him while the boat is fully secured. Her confusion is visible when she turns, and it becomes exasperation. "I hope not," she mutters, hugging him anyways, quickly, before excusing herself to step off. "R'hin. Lurking, as usual." And her father receives, in turn, an affably, deliberately easy nod from R'hin, though he stays where he is, gaze shifting as Faryn approaches. "As usual," the bronzerider agrees, with easy humor. "Are you done hiding away here in this," his head waves, vaguely, taking in more her family than the Hold proper itself, "Safe place of yours, yet?" A beat, before he grins down at her. "You have somewhere to be." Faryn's eyebrows rise to hide behind her bangs. "It's a vacation," she corrects. "I'm not hiding away. Don't be dramatic." But she glances over her shoulder as her family bustles onto the boat for the cargo, a well-oiled machine, sans her. "The weather was nicer when I got here," she laments. "I'm going back to Reaches two days from now. So, not quite." "Is it?" R'hin manages to sound surprised and thoughtful all in one as his gaze follows hers towards her family. "Most vacations don't involve tending the family business. But," with a spread of hands, "Each to his own, I suppose." His hands fall, clasping them behind his back, as he half turns to look over his shoulder. "Still..." and back to her, now, pale gaze amused, "The somewhere is not the Reaches. That is where you feel stagnant. That is not where you need to be, right now." "Maybe I just find fish cathartic," is meant to serve as a self-deprecating explanation, the smallest amount of effort she'll put in to arguing her point. Faryn looks almost resigned to whatever it is he's got planned for her, since this is clearly something he's cooked up and given thought to, and she's not a stranger to that anymore. "Do I? Praytell, will it be as fun and relaxing as fish?" The look on R'hin's face fairly transparently displays his disbelief of that particular notion, not to mention of her belief on that notion. "Given I'm surprised by your predilection for all things fish, I really wouldn't want to venture a guess," the Wingleader replies, adroitly, chuckling briefly. "Would you like to gather some things first, or jump right in?" with a gesture of hand, as Leiventh can be seen landing a short walk from the docks. Apparently he means right now. Faryn laughs, then. She can't help it. "If anyone offers me fishrolls in the next turn, I'll go green," she admits, foiling herself. That this somewhere equates to now actually seems to bother her a little, though, if the way her mouth twists down is any indication. But she gives a look -- they're almost done, it seems, because they've made it to the empty net -- and hauls a long-suffering sigh worthy of a ten-turn-old who just got told 'no'. "Two days won't make a difference," she reasons under her breath, with herself, not excusing herself when she returns to the group again. Words, then hugs, and a couple rufflings of her hair that leave her staticy are exchanged; if she brought anything, it's probably not important, since she's back in a moment to warn, "If you take me to sell apples at a cart, I'm going to throw them at your head until you have a concussion." And R'hin, ever patient, watches Faryn through her changing expressions, and while she seeks out her family. While she's saying her goodbyes he retreats to Leiventh's side, checking over the straps -- as much for the distraction as dutiful habit. He doesn't seem that surprised at her quick return, and for his part, the Savannah rider seems to take that threat from the herder in relative stride. "Fair warning," he concedes with a grin. And then he's climbing up to settle on the bronze's neckridges, offering her a hand. "I throw really hard," is probably meant to legitimize the threat, even as she takes his hand and leverages up onto Leiventh's neck, settling in and taking it upon herself to get the straps buckled. "So. Where is this somewhere that we're going? Warmer, I hope. " "I'll bet," R'hin agrees judiciously. His pale gaze suggests he's watching her buckling of the straps, and only once he's happy -- whatever that silent signal may entail -- Leiventh leaps aloft, conveniently before R'hin has a chance to answer. Well, it's certainly warmer-by-comparison after emerging from the cold of between -- it's likely as not she'll recognize the colors that fly above Benden's Hold, but it's not towards the courtyard that the bronze angles, but northward instead, flying steadily straight on over increasingly rocky mountains. Undoubtedly the purpose is to make clear that wherever he's taking her, it's over a day's ride in distance, nearer to two, and the tiny dotting of buildings when he starts to descend is rather unimpressive, all told. The largest structure from the air turns out, on landing, to be a shed, the bleating of animals audible. That she'd even ask him shows that Faryn probably hasn't learned quite as much as she thinks she has, and her disgruntled puff of a sigh is lost when they go aloft and between. Warmer by comparison, but she's still tucked her hands in her armpits as she leans over to watch their progression, her expression increasingly perplexed. Their descent warrants at least a grunt, and it's not until Leiventh has landed that she says, slow, "Ooooookay." Which, for all intents and purposes, is to act as a question. It should also, really, be no surprise that R'hin is pleased with her reaction, chuckling under his breath as he unstraps and slips down, waiting below in case Faryn needs a steadying hand on her descent. "Ozwon runs this holding. In fact, it's bigger than it looks -- we flew over most of it. The goats actually roam up and down the mountainside. There's more buildings inside the cave systems, too." He gestures for the small track that twines upwards, continuing the rough track they overflew on the way here. Faryn makes it to the ground of her own accord, this time, and stuffs her hands in her pockets at once, looking around. Her eyes fall on the shed, the other smattering of buildings. "Okay," comes again, less incredulous. Her intrigue is not for the goats, with their creepy little slitted eyes, probably watching them from weird goat-like places, but for the cave system, where she settles her attention. "What, they need a herder for the goats?" she asks, not sounding pleased. "They could get dogs for that." R'hin's clearly enjoying this, watching Faryn's expression as she takes in the holding. "No. A herder for the people," he corrects. The door to one of the outlying buildings bangs open, and a weighty older man emerges, walking towards them. "Ahh, good, good, this is her?" he inspects Faryn carefully, and when R'hin nods, adds another, "Good!" Stretching a hand towards her, the man says, "I'm Ozwon. My steward Welem's busy with a newborn, and I've been told you can step into his shoes for a while. You'll be responsible for assigning the work details, arranging meals, and sorting out all the," he grimaces, "Little details. Anything big can come to me, but," he grins at her, "Anything you can keep away from me is great. Welem'll sit with you to give you an overview. Good," he claps his hands together, and glances at R'hin. "They could feasibly get dogs for that, too," Faryn is saying reasonably, prepared to launch into a speech about all the virtues and talents of canine companions. Ozwon saves R'hin from that, at least, and Faryn's smile and crossing of palms for the holder is immediate and trained: smile at the people in charge, can't afford to alienate them right out the gate. The craft taught her well in that. If only she could maintain it while the reason for their visit finally reveals itself. "Steward?" she echoes, the smile touching the word by proxy, the way smiles will. By the time it really hits, though, her lips have parted like a protest died on them, and that's as close as she'll reasonably come to gaping at Ozwon. "Little details. I'm good at handling little details, when people give them to me." That accompanies a pointed look at the bronzerider, who at the very least didn't bring her to an apple cart. "How long were you thinking?" For either -- both -- of them. "She seems to handle things relatively well even when people don't bring things to her," R'hin adds, grinning when Ozwon looks his way, shifting his weight slightly. "Well," Ozwon clears his throat. "Ought to give a man at least some time with his babe, given his wife... you know," the grimace suggests she didn't survive childbirth. "We were thinking a month would do." Whether the we includes R'hin or not probably isn't apparent -- or maybe is much more so -- in the fact he's already halfway to Leiventh, easily climbing up onto the bronze's neckridges soon after. Faryn's smile for R'hin is tight, and adjusts appropriately for Ozwon's estimation, at which she turns back. "Oh. Oh, I'm very sorry." Tendered to the wrong person, but sympathy is sympathy, anyways. "I can help, I just didn't realize this was what R'hin was talking about. It...." She's going to turn back to R'hin, to say something, but there he is, up on that dragon of his. She inhales through her nose, deeply, calming, but won't make a scene of protesting. "I can help," she finally says, turning back. "Just tell me where I can find Welem?" That last look as she spots him up on his dragon earns a not-in-the-least-apologetic grin from R'hin, along with a salute. When she turns back to Ozwon, she can't see -- but can probably feel Leiventh's ascent as the wind from his downsweep of wings swirls around them. Ozwon, for his part, waves a hand towards the departing dragonrider, and beams at Faryn in relief. "Good, good," a phrase he seems overly fond of, "Come this way," and he's leading her in towards the cave system, and to her new, if temporary, life. |
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