Logs:The Breeding Stock
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| RL Date: 7 March, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The cooks have been slaughtering breeding stock. Faryn (and K'del) intervenes. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 3, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| If asked, Faryn wouldn't say she was flustered, but it's clear she is. She's squared off with one of the cooks, a man thrice her size with a glowering expression, and doesn't look to back down. The rest of the staff appear to be keeping a reasonably wide berth as they pretend to go about their business. "I told you that you can't just kill whatever you want," she is explaining herself slowly, clipping the words, "because if you keep killing our breeding stock, next turn will be..." and she trails off, instead choosing to glower angrily. It's not often, these days, that K'del ventures up into the kitchens, but even infrequent things do happen; the Weyrleader carries with him an empty plate, venturing into the domain of the cooks at an easy stride. He's halfway to dropping the dish off when a sideways glances catches Faryn and her argument, and from there it's an easy thing to do, really, to divert towards them. "What's this about the breeding stock?" Faryn goes rigid instinctively when K'del interjects, not so much because she recognizes his voice but because she's unaccustomed to people willingly inserting into her squabbles. When she turns, it's clearly with the intent to tell him off as well, but she stops immediately. Her smile towards the cook in question is mean-spirited sweetness. "The herds," she supplies, allowing her hands to uncoil from fists. "They keep dipping into the breeders for supper. We lost another bull this morning." There's a pointed glance at K'del's plate, "I imagine he was delicious." K'del's gaze tracks, silently, towards his plate. Which is at least empty! As he looks up again, his expression is calm. "What's wrong with the normal herds?" he wants to know, quizzical. "There's a reason we keep them all separate, right?" It's not his area of expertise, but-- that's basic information, right? "They're not as good as they were," Faryn acknowledges. "It's the wheat rations. We've been instructed to prioritize, for the dragons and the breeders." She jerks a thumb at the cook. "The herds are still sorted. But the kitchen keeps slipping out beasts that aren't theirs." Realizing she sounds bitter, she adds, "I understand they want good beasts, but they're cutting of their noses to spite their face. We'll have nothing but runts and stillborns if this keeps up." There's an immediate grimace from K'del at mention of the wheat ration, and a nod that confirms he can see where the problem is. "No," he agrees, "You're right. Short-term comfort is not-- make sure all this information gets passed on to the Headwoman, and the Weyrwomen." His glance at the cook is meaningful, full of suggestion that he has just passed this up the food chain, so the man had better pay attention. "If it means changing things up all over again... shells, we'll just have to do that. Rationing. Shells." Faryn can't seem to find it in her to find a victory in the exchange. When she sneaks a look back at the cook, there's sympathy around her eyes, her mouth pinched. There's no need to belabor the point, so she changes tack slightly to say, "We've still got enough for breeding, if this stops." From bside her, the cook mumbles embarrassed agreement, though Faryn continues, "But I'll make sure the Headwoman knows. I'd hoped...." To not get anyone else involved, is what she was going to say, but she ends it with a shrug and reiterates, "I can make sure they're informed." "It's not a--" K'del pauses. Hesitates. Glances back at that cook. "Not an intent to get anyone in trouble. Just, keep people informed. If we're using more meat than we were, because of the lack of grain, it's just something people need to keep in mind... though," he's quick to add, "I'm sure they've already thought of it. Not really my area of expertise and all." A thin-lipped smile follows, hesitant. "If you'll excuse me?" Faryn exhales, looking relieved. The cook, too. She's quick to nod her agreement, stepping off to make sure he's got enough room to leave. "Of course, sir. Thank you." A quick nod answers Faryn's words, and then K'del turns to go - this time, managing to deposit his empty plate appropriately. |
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