Logs:The Importance of History
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| RL Date: 12 November, 2015 |
| Who: K'del, T'gar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two bronzeriders, in the records room, with the history. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'klas/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
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| It's well in the afternoon that finds T'gar at the table in the records room, study. It's a strange enough sight seeing him in here, as evident by the scribes present giving him the occasional look, but it looks like he's at least behaving for the moment as the weyrling jots down something he reads into the scrawl that looks like his notes. It's not so unusual to see K'del in here-- indeed, he's in here often, checking up on this report or that (or filing new things into the restricted, people-with-fancy-knots-only section for later weyrleaders to peruse). Today, though, he's returning a stack of volumes with a somewhat harried expression, and though it may, at least initially, look as if he's intending to just duck straight out again, something makes him stop. Perhaps it is T'gar. Perahps it is something one of the scribes says. Whatever it actually is, it sends him meandering towards the weyrling. "It's, uh, T'g-- something, isn't it?" T'gar misses the Weyrleader's stealthy entrance, so it's with start that he cuts his gaze up from the current hide to find himself in K'del's presence. He does appear taken aback for only moment, seeming to take in the measure of the man before he straightens up and says, "Weyrleader." It's said in a tone to suggest he wasn't expecting to ever meet the man he's heard so much about. He looks around them briefly before he adds, "Sir. It's T'gar, but I go by Rat. Easier to remember, I hear," in his Bitran accent. Gesturing before him, "Did you need the table? I'm only here a few minutes more, but I can move." "No, no." K'del's quick to wave away that suggestion, and quick to follow it up with, "T'gar. Rat. Guess I'll try and remember that. Only wanted to-- well. Feels like there's a lot of you weyrlings I've not met, and I do try to at least introduce myself. How's it all going?" He's clearly aiming for 'cheerfully friendly and not too formal if not outright casual' but there's an edge of tension in his tone and expression that may have nothing to do with the other man; he's just a little distracted. "Weyrlinghood and all, I mean." T'gar was in the process of picking up his notes before K'del waves it away, causing him to set them back down and lean back. "I imagine," he murmurs, K'del getting his open study now. "Can't be expected to remember all the names of those here. Even I," he pauses, lifting his hand from the current hide he's reading which is on local history, shaking his head. "Memorizing's not exactly my strong suit," he admits a bit dryly. "My grade's not exactly where I want it to be, so, I thought I could get away from everyone there and get more studying in." Perhaps it's in answering the Weyrleader's question as well, but he does add, "It's nice to have Asaroth trying to hunt on his own now. My hands are thanking him." Light scaring and bite marks can be still seen on his hands as blue eyes narrow slightly at the man's expression and he asks, "Have you seen some of dragons since the Hatching?" K'del's mouth twists. "Used to be better at it," he admits. "But... there's too many. I try." Unspoken is the admission that even having been properly introduced to T'gar, now, there's no guarantee he'll remember the name next time. "Cadejoth hunting for himself made a big difference to me, too, though... not like that." Those scars. "I've seen a few of them, off and on. When I've time. If you..." A pause. "Need help with local history, you can ask me. While I'm here, I mean." "Arithmetic's the only thing that makes sense out of all of this," T'gar admits with a short laugh. "So, I understand. Don't even expect you to remember mine, unless you come across a rat one day. Cadejoth, though.... how long was it before you were able to fly with him?" He really can't hide his interest in flying, as much as he's trying. The last gets a few nods from him as he considers that offer, looking down at his notes briefly before he answers, "Think I may have to take you up on that sometime. I didn't want to go with this to the Weyrlingmaster. I don't want her thinking I'm dumb or something." Is that a smirk, just briefly, in answer to that last comment? Perhaps. But it's the rest that K'del responds to, his tone easy as one hand curves about the back of a chair, smoothing the old, polished wood. "Let's see. By about... four months? Five? Felt like forever, at the time, but it does pass quick enough in the end." Of the history, he does add, then, "For me, history was always the interesting bit, but... guess it's easier when you can think of it as living, part of the world around you. Real people and what they did. Can tell you off the top of my head that we've not had a serious plague in at least a generation." "Months, huh?" There's a small crestafallen frown for that by Rat at hearing how much longer before he and Asaroth could fly. "That's long in weyrling time. Asaroth sure won't tell me anything, even though I've asked. This probably a weird question, but, do you get along with Cadejoth?" It's joined with a furtive look. As for history and all it offers, he looks back down at the hides in question with heavy sigh before he says, "I haven't seen much history since being here. Well, there was that Crom gather. The bronzerider dying. Never heard of anything like that happening before. I've heard about the Weyrwoman here living short lives, and maybe the bronzeriders, too. I heard about you getting stabbed at a Hold. That's the sort of history that doesn't bode well for me and Asaroth. This plague, though," there's intense interest at the mention of it as he shifts towards K'del, "is that what this is coming to? Serious?" Should I be worried? is not spoken aloud, but it's there. K'del hesitates over his answer, mouth drawn in tightly. Finally, "Cadejoth and I had rough patches, early on. He... wasn't what I expected, and it took time to build a proper partnership. That's true of a lot of pairs, in my experience. No such thing as normal." That recitation of recent history draws a sigh all of its own, but K'del can't actually argue any of it. What he does say, his free hand lifting to run through short-cropped curls, is, "We're hoping not. But Fort-- word is Lord and Lady Boll are both dead. Others, too. And it is spreading. Hopefully it doesn't reach us, but..." It's not quite that simple. Hearing that the Weyrleader had rough patches with his bronze seems to gradually ease something in T'gar's expression. "Wasn't what you expected," he echoes, seeming to find that of interest to him. "That interests me to hear, because, I feel the same way with him. The way he talks - or doesn't talk....the way he behaves...I see how the others get along with theirs. Asaroth seems awfully....aloof." He seems to be trying that word for size before grunting his approval of its choice. "I've been trying to find common ground with him and learn his language. Hasn't been easy." In light of what K'del says on Fort, his words falter away. It's clearly news to the weyrling since he straightens up from his slouch with a frown and looks away. "I haven't heard," he admits quietly. "At least a generation, you said? Maybe it'll miss us. Maybe we're too far." He doesn't exactly sound like he believes that, the words coming out slow, but it's said aloud anyway. "Cadejoth... was kind of the opposite. Wanted to be in my everything. But... I can understand. And chances are it will get easier. You're doing the right thing, I'd guess, in trying to learn his language. As he gets older, he'll probably figure out himself better, too. Not that I'm a weyrlingmaster, but... just based on what I've seen, over the turns." Answering this is, perhaps, easier than talking about plague... but talk about it he does, both hands now grasping on to that chair in front of him. "We share a lot of borders with Fort," he says, simply. "It will spread, and dragonriders... we travel. If we stop doing our job, we risk alienating holders. If we don't, we risk spreading disease. Difficult decisions." "I can't even imagine Asaroth wanting to be in everything of mine," T'gar says with some humor. "I'd probably run. You're likely right, though. As long as I can keep these hands from around his mouth and keep doing what I've been doing, he might turn out okay. I have some ideas I do want to try on him." Nodding, "You've given me a lot to think about though," he admits to the Weyrleader. "Thanks." And then, the plague. There's brows furrowing at the dilemma presented, and the weyrling is silent as if he's trying to puzzle out a solution. Since none comes in that moment, "And the dragonriders will go and bring it back here," he muses with a frown. "The holders wouldn't understand, would they? Would they rather we risk our lives just so that they feel better seeing us in the skies? It makes them seem fickle. I'd be interested in hearing about the decision you come to, along the way," he says, regarding the Weyrleader anew. "You've been Weyrleader for a long time, I hear. N'klas swears by you, and he's a stand-up guy with me. I think you're the sort that would figure it out more than anyone here, sir. My father back in Bitra would say sometimes, take the problem apart like you would a broken shed. Look at it in pieces. The solution to the shed's rot will come." "Smart man, your father." K'del's pleased, too, visibly, by that mention of N'klas, though it's obvious his thoughts are largely useless-- focused on tackling this issue. "We take precautions," he says. "Don't get too close to anyone sick, and if you do get exposed, you end up quarantined. The holders... if we abandon them, a lot more will die. And we need our holders. It's as much for our own preservation as anything else. But do I want to send my riders out to die? No, no of course not. It's clearly a work in progress, and we don't even have sick, yet." Snorting, "He was smart in giving out the advice that he himself never took," T'gar is amused in saying. Amusement fades in light of K'del's plans in words, the weyrling nodding it through. "I have a feeling this place will be needing that quarantine soon if this thing spreads any further," he states, his tone even and serious. "Even getting stabbed by those holders, you look out for them. Separating the emotion from the rank must be a challenge. Some would find that hard to be able to. I think I would protect them, but, grit my teeth while doing so. Especially Greenfields." There's faint humor there as the weyrling tucks that writing stylus above one ear. "It's my job," K'del points out, just quietly, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly as he does so. "If we don't look after the holders, we risk not eating. Doesn't make it easy, though. If it were up to me alone... well." Head tilting to the left, he gives T'gar another thoughtful glance. "Greenfields?" Beat. "Oh-- you mean, because that's where..." Where he was stabbed. "It makes me wonder if the sort of history I know here would've happened at all during a Pass," T'gar nods with a slight grin. "Can't hold grudges with that knot, I guess, but if what I'm reading here is any indication-" he gestures to the array of hides on the table, "-then not all Weyrleaders are so honorable. Now if only I could just remember everything else." Unlikely, by the expression on his face. K'del's last gets a quiet nod but a study that doesn't lack intensity as he answers, "The very one. I heard. Stuff like that interest me. Places to avoid and all that, if I can help it. I rather like not having my nose broken again. Or being stabbed. It's history like that that could keep me and Asaroth alive....but not help this grade." "Things are different, in a Pass," K'del acknowledges. "Not that I'm old enough to have flown even in the Comet Pass, but I grew up during it. You... there's a lot less pressure from the holds, as long as you're doing your job. They need you, and they know it." He acknowledges, too, the lack of honour among some of those who've worn his knot, but says, instead, "Like to hope that most people won't have the kind of luck we've had in the past. But it's always good to have an understanding of it; you can learn from the past. Make better decisions for the future." Beat. "Quinlys traditionally likes the bit where chromatic riders played larger roles. Focus on that, you'll be fine." "You would think me strange to say that I would have liked to have seen the Pass," T'gar says easily. "The sort of urgency in people's lives. In mine if I had lived back then. History has its uses, I guess," he acknowledges now, albeit grudgingly. "I don't want to make the same mistakes others did, if Asaroth and I were to lead a wing. Someday. This is our home now." He looks down at his notes when the Weyrleader mentions what Quinlys likes, the weyrling grabbing his writing stylus and jotting it down as he says, "Makes sense. Maybe it'll get a smile out of her instead the look she normally gives me." His smile is winsome when he looks up, and with his incline of head, "More tidbits like that one and I'm going to have to owe you one sometime, sir. If I wasn't so poor at the moment, I'd buy you a drink at the bar. Looks like you're going to need one soon." K'del's head shakes, just slightly. Perhaps he wouldn't think it strange, not entirely. "'Someday'. That's a good way to think of it. He's a bronze... you could end up weyrleader, even, in the right circumstances." But both hands are withdrawing from the chair, now, and he adds, "Might need a dozen drinks, but no. You work on making Quinlys smile, and I'll work on... well all of this, I guess." It's clearly intended as a farewell because he adds, "Good luck with that." "If I can get to ground with this bronze of mine," T'gar chuckles that. Nodding to the man as he prepares to depart, there's an amusing snort to him making the Weyrlingmaster smile and he says back, "The bar shouldn't charge the Weyrleader, in that case. Thanks for the help," and he lifts his notes in indication, "and the talk. It was....good, meeting you finally. Face-to-face. Good luck with yours, sir," and it comes with a casual two-finger salute to him as he shifts back towards his work at the table with some sort of determination. "And you," has a firmness to it that suggests he's been pleased by this meeting, but K'del doesn't stay to offer more: plague preparations wait for no man. |
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