Logs:Sympathy(?) Transfer
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| RL Date: 24 February, 2015 |
| Who: K'del, Ulyana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ulyana requests a transfer. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 2, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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>---< Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr >------------------------<
At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood
oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis
and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an
embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort --
meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's
head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest.
Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries
depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral
fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts
sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its
several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well
as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever
hidework requires particularly frequent attention.
A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that
extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk
abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind.
+views available
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
K'del M 34 6'4" slender, toffee hair, baby blue eyes 0s
Ulyana F 164'11" Diminutive, Black hair, Gray eyes 4s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
[closet] Records Room Weyrleader Complex
>------------------------------------------< 6D 2M 37T I10, winter night >---< An exchange of letters led to this: an appointed time, an appointed place. Officially, K'del is still at Southern, working remotely, but he's returned to High Reaches for the afternoon, and now sits in the Council Chambers, with a mug of klah to the left of him, and a stack of papers directly in front. Tanned, he looks a little out of place in High Reaches' winter. High above the bowl, Cadejoth sits at the rim, surveying his territory with a paternal air. One moment, there is only steady snow falling in the sky. In the next, a dark blue shape manifests without preamble or announcement; for those seeking answers, there is only a murmuring of wordless mental waters in reply. Qhyluth is quick to land but his rider is even quicker to make for the ground - she's already unstrapping herself before he has a chance to touch the snow-covered earth. He is, at least, mindful to shield his rider's inevitable discomfort from prying eyes, while his gaze is tipped toward the rim, canted curiously toward Cadejoth. Ulyana's misery passes; the blue's scrutiny does not. It isn't much longer before she's at the entrance to the Council Chambers, her footfalls silent until she's nearly inside. Only then does she scuff a boot loudly enough to be heard just before she enters without a word. A salute - crisp and efficient - will have to suffice. Cadejoth watches; he'd rather do, but watching has its uses, in this as well as other things. Down in the Council Chambers, K'del glances up, blue eyes studying Ulyana for one beat - and then a second - before he answers the salute with one of his own, and then gestures towards the empty chairs about the table. "You must be Ulyana. There's klah--" A pause. Then, "Or water." "Water is sufficient. Thank you." Ulya's words are flatly intoned, though one can presume they're earnestly meant. She closes the distance with quiet efficiency and acquires a glass of water in much the same way. It's only once she's seated at the chair most directly opposite K'del that she goes through the motions of removing her gloves and helmet to meticulously set them in her lap. Her fingers lace over that and she is, at long last, as utterly still as biology will allow. "I am uncertain how this is supposed to proceed," she states. The flatness of the bluerider's intonation draws a raised eyebrow from K'del, but that's the only response he has; as she fetches her water and settles herself, he's content enough to be still, watching without staring. Finally, mouth drawing slightly wider at that last comment, he says, "Well. Let's start at the beginning. You wish to transfer into my Weyr?" The dullness of her voice is a fine match to her bland expression. Ulyana's water will go untouched for now; as the question is presented, she takes her time in answering it. Several seconds too many, perhaps, but not for her. "Yes." A beat. Two. Then: "There are several reasons, but I will speak to the most important: the Healers at Fort have reason to believe that the symptoms of my vertigo may be alleviated to some degree by a change in climate." "Enough," wonders K'del, keeping his voice neutral though his brows have lifted again, "to allow you to conduct the regular duties of a rider?" He's quiet, leading up to those words, content enough to let the silence last for as long as Ulyana wills it, as if to say 'I have all day.' "That is uncertain." One shoulder rises and falls in a lopsided shrug. Ulyana continues: "Short flights are tolerable. The colder air and altitude may make longer ones easier to endure. They are not entirely certain if it will allow me to perform my duties as well as should be expected, but it is worthy enough to pursue." There is, as before, a lengthy span between those words and the next: "In the interim, I am quite capable of performing other duties as necessary to make up for this failing." K'del's silence does not seem to indicate disapproval or dismay, though his expression is difficult to read; in any case, he does not seem to have dismissed Ulyana altogether. He nods, now, spreading his hands expansively across the polished wood of the table. "Such as?" he prompts. "Working with records and inventories was my primary duty before. I can do so again without difficulty. Finding, copying, or filing records is not as easy a task as many may believe it to be. Additionally, it may be beneficial to have someone on the ground who is able to retrieve or deliver paperwork or packages as necessary, rather than dispatch someone who is otherwise occupied to do so." Ulyana rolls that shoulder again, which seems to serve only as a means to straighten her already stiff posture further. "I would also like to learn dragonhealing, if that is acceptable. My understanding is that the program here is far more comprehensive than most. If I am not able to perform fully as a rider, then the least I can do is acquire a skill that will be useful to others." K'del's, "Hmmmm," is neutral, too; not positive, not negative, not anything at all except acknowledgement. "You'll understand if we don't necessarily trust you with anything too sensitive, to begin with," he says. And, "Do you have references?" And, because now he's on a roll with these questions, "What about watch duty? And... can that blue of yours do elevator duty? Dragonhealing, well, that'd be up to the dragonhealers here, but it's true we've a good program for it." The questions are taken, absorbed, and processed in the span of a slow blink. Ulyana's response is a blandly issued: "I would fully expect that. The bulk of my work was spent filing, copying inventories and working with numbers to ensure their validity. I would not anticipate being made privy to the sensitive particulars of the Weyr." A beat. Two. "Ronne of Crom Hold would be able to vouch for my work there. The recordskeepers at Fort Weyr can do likewise." The next question is answered only after another slow blink: "Qhyluth is perfectly capable of flying without me. He can perform what duties are required of him without difficulty. I believe he and I would be able to perform watch duty, as well." To the dragonhealing, there is only a shallow inclination of her head and a flat, "Understood." Nod. Nod. Another nod. A fourth nod. Finally, "Is there anything else I ought to know?" A slow, considering glance follows, before K'del clarifies, "Other reasons for your interest in High Reaches? Anything that I need to know." This slightly new line of questioning is met with a blank expression. For a brief moment, Ulyana's brow furrows, as if the thought necessary required external resources - but that is quickly resolved into seeming indifference. "There is only one other minor detail. My understanding is that the man who is my father by blood is a rider here. I do not have a name; only a color. If I am permitted to study the records here, I might be able to determine his identity." She pulls on her gloves and shifts her helmet slightly in preparation to put it on. "That is all." K'del leans back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him; he looks, if anything, faintly bewildered by Ulyana. "Ah," he says. "Mm. Well, obviously, that's a project you may work on in your own time, of course. You've not graduated from weyrlinghood yet, have you?" There is a singular shake of Ulyana's head - left, right, center - and confirmation in the form of an inflectionless, "No, I have not graduated. I felt it would be prudent to address the matter of transferring before Qhyluth and I were assigned to a wing. If you felt we were not a suitable match for High Reaches, then he and I would pursue a position at Telgar for the aforementioned health reasons. Failing that," again, that odd, one-shouldered shrug, "he and I would proceed normally at Fort Weyr to the best of our abilities." "Have you been happy at Fort?" K'del's questioning must, at least, follow a sensible course within his own head; he tilts aforementioned head to the side, now, regarding Ulyana evenly. There is no visual betrayal of her thoughts. Even Ulyana's voice maintains the same, dead cadence that she's displayed thus far. "I was Searched for a clutch that did not happen. The Weyrleader took my Candidate knot - and returned it only after his dragon had thoroughly terrorized me. My fellow weyrlings - save one - have no more interest in speaking to me than I have in speaking to them. The only other person that I could trust has been sent to Southern." Her head tilts in a stiff echo of K'del's gesture. It's queer and mechanical, that motion. "I cannot say that I am ever happy, Weyrleader. But I am certain that my happiness cannot be found there." Plainly, that's not an answer K'del expected; equally plainly, it melts something inside of him - no more neutrality, just a deep, solemn sense of sorrow. "I'm sorry to hear that," is genuine enough. Perhaps it's enough to allow him to make a decision, because he says, a few moments later, "Well. When you graduate, then, get the paperwork from your Weyrleaders, and we'll make it official. Welcome - in advance - to High Reaches. Know you'll make sure to pay your way." Yet, even that doesn't seem register with her. Ulyana's head straightens and she, in turn, rises to her feet. The helmet is shifted to rest at her hip, freeing her hand up to execute a stiff, respectful salute. "There is no reason for you to apologize," she intones. "None of it was your fault. I - and Qhyluth - will do our best to serve High Reaches to the fullest of our collective capacities. I will see to the paperwork as quickly as I am able to do so." The salute drops. "Thank you." This time, K'del answers the salute with only a nod. "You're welcome, rider. We'll see you in a few sevens or so." The second nod is dismissal. "Understood." And, with that, Ulyana departs without another word. |
Comments
Edyis (17:17, 27 February 2015 (EST)) said...
We get our own Chuthulu!
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