Logs:The Living
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| RL Date: 2 January, 2015 |
| Who: Quinlys, V'ros |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrlingmaster and former-weyrling catch up. |
| Where: Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 9, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Teris/Mentions, Tevrane/Mentions |
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>---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RJs) >----------------------------<
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier
or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them
instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large
enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the
cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters
down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open
space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet,
and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's
offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven --
only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they
add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the
centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling
and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end
of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an
array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows
are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Quinlys F 30 5'4" Soft, Dark red hair, Blue eyes 0s
V'ros M 21 5'8 Slim, Brown hair, Brown eyes 1m
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
>-------------------------------------< 16D 9M 36T I10, autumn afternoon >---< Lunch has long come and gone, but with all the extra sweeps over Nabol, Snowdrift's taken an extra-long lunch today to balance the score. They finally start to head off when the kitchen girls begin to wipe down the tables, meandering off to Faranth knows what, with the promise of a rousing game of cards in the Snowasis later. It's only V'ros that's left, leaning over the table on his forearms, fingers clutched together. He watching the ebb and flow of people, his eyes following the passage of a cook and then one of the apprentices; his manner is relaxed, even for him, with his jacket still slung on the back of his chair. With an empty barracks to preside over, and only minimal duties to perform, Quinlys has the easy luxury of taking meals whenever she damn well pleases, even if that ends up being inconvenient for other people, or consisting entirely of leftovers. Moving at a lazy pace, the bluerider emerges through the kitchen doors, plate in hand, and skirts around a trio of kitchen hands. It's only once she's free of them that she glances up, idly perusing the room-- in search of company? Privacy? Who can tell! It's hard not to notice that red hair, and more so the face that comes with it. Any casualness that had been in V'ros' posture, prior, is swept away when he sits up straight and offers the Weyrlingmaster a wave - sit here, maybe? That seems to be the intention in the gesture, though his face is as bland and apprehensive as it normally is. Quinlys' expression, in contrast, immediately lights up as she registers that wave; either she's delighted to see V'ros, or she's delighted to have company at all. "And how go things in Snowdrift, V'ros?" she wants to know, once she's weaved her way between tables far enough to be within easy earshot. "You've settled in by now, I hope." She sets her plate down across from him, lounging herself down into the chair with a contented little smile. "Good," the brownrider says abruptly, dropping his hands between his legs and resuming a less-relaxed version of his earlier pose. "Can't complain. Mielline's a good woman, and the rest.. ah, they're no Savannah, but.. neither are they Iceberg." V'ros' words are cryptic, his tone suggesting a walk in the park rather than a discussion about his quality of life. "How're.. things? No weyrlings, so you.. you're probably.. bored." But he's staring at her food, instead of at her. Quinlys, plainly amused by this description of Snowdrift, fixes those blue eyes upon the brownrider, raising fine brows. "So," she concludes, lifting her fork, "They're neither sneaky and subtle, or... bold and hammer-like?" That fork waves as she continues, clearly more focused on the conversation than on the food; unlike V'ros. "Bored, no. Not yet. Ask me in a few months, when I'm broke and tired of being hungover and constantly sunburnt." Cloudy brown eyes flick up to Quinlys. "No, none of those, but.." V'ros lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Strong and dedicated and good, at.. what they do." His gaze shifts, to the fork as it waves, but is quickly back on the bluerider. "You've been traveling?" and this, finally, draws a small, if reluctant smile from the brownrider. "Is Hraedhyth due to.. uh.. rise, anytime, soon? Iesaryth was.. last.. but.." And there goes the smile. "That's what you want in a wing," agrees Quinlys, firmly, as she finally digs her fork into the food on her plate. "That, and a good fit, I guess. I flew with Icicle for a while, before I started helping Meara with the weyrlings, and... they're a good wing, good at what they do, but we didn't fit." It's clear she's noted that missing smile, but instead of commenting on that, she says, "Travelling, yes. All over. Lots of sun and sand. It's been less than two turns since Hraedhyth last rose, so it could be some time, yet. Fine by me." "Icicle? Yeah, I wouldn't.." V'ros clears his throat, slides his hands back over the table top, where they come to clasp together again. "Can't see myself in Icicle either. Glacier would be.. the worst." He shakes his head, like he's clearing it, and has a self-deprecating sort of smile for Quinlys next. "Do you like travelling more or the weyrlings?" By the way he says it, it's clear he's got his own opinion already, but he's avidly watching, waiting, listening for what the bluerider has to say. Quinlys pauses her side of the conversation in order to chew, though the vigorous nod she gives, as V'ros speaks, is continuation of its own. "Right," she agrees. "Some wings just... suit better than others. I love my job, V'ros." No pauses, there. "It's been what I wanted since I Impressed, pretty much. I love having vacation time, too, and seeing things, but... I love my job." "What do you love about it?" It's a simple, innocent question V'ros asks. Simple though it is, the question leaves Quinlys to hesitate, her expression holding a sense of the faraway. "I think," she says, after a pause, "it's that I get to make an obvious difference. Impression's such a... such a thing. And I get to step in and help people work it out. Figure out what they want. Be what they want. Shaping the future is..." She smiles, abruptly turning her focus back upon V'ros. "It's exhilarating. Power, maybe, but also... responsibility. It's important." "You don't worry," V'ros' expression is serious for all of Quinlys' smiles, "you're going to do it wrong? If you're.. shaping someone's life and.. stuff." He splays his hands, lamely. "It sounds.. pretty fucking scary." Better her than him, though. "No." Simple answer, really, and for a moment or two, it may seem as though Quinlys fully intends to leave it at that. Then: "Not... really, anyway. I had a very good teacher, and - let's be honest here, V'ros - I'm not exactly lacking in ego, am I?" Her wink is cheerful; unrepentant. "I believe in myself. This is where I was meant to be. And I have fucked up yet, not really. Have I?" That's one way to answer a question! V'ros' mouth falls open and before he can help himself, or hide the emotion, he laughs and sags back in his chair. "There's some.. some that could use some guidance, or.." His hands pluck at the short length of hair on top of his head, and the humor lingers in the crinkles on the sides of his eyes and in the lift of dark brows. "A lot us," us being riders, "are pretty adept at getting drunk and.. making fools of ourselves.. you take credit for that?" This time, Quinlys', "No," is heartily amused. "No, I think that's just a rider thing. It is what it is. And if you don't think I get drunk and make a fool of myself..." She breaks off, glancing down at her food, then nudging the plate away, though she's not eaten all that much. "Do you still need guidance, V'ros? How are things really?" It's quieter, this question. These questions. V'ros cocks an eyebrow at Quinlys, his hands dropping from his hair to prop across his chest. "No, I can't see that, but.." He smiles wider. "I haven't seen you.. uh, outside of weyrlinghood. Not like that." Not a frequenter of whatever beaches she roams, apparently. His humor eases off and he resigns himself to speaking with honesty this time. "It's.. still.. different. Everything's new.. still, but it gets a little better.. every day. Can't say it's been easy with.. Aishani and then Teris. I'm still coping.. but," he sighs, "everyone keeps telling me death is normal, so I.. I'm trying.. to understand." "No weyrling needs to see their weyrlingmaster deep in her cups," is Quinlys' opinion on the matter. "Solith rose and was caught by my Olly when they were still weyrlings, and that could've been a nightmare." But apparently wasn't? "Give it time, though. You'll have no choice but to see me as a person, I promise." It's the rest of what he's said that has her chewing at her lip, though, hesitating before she answers. "People die every day," she allows. "Just not usually high profile people, I suppose. I haven't lost a weyrling during weyrlinghood yet, but... I'm terrified of it. I can't let it define me, though. We have to focus on the living. On living, ourselves." That tidbit leads to V'ros looking shocked. "That's.. uh.. wow." He is speechless, obviously flabbergasted that Olveraeth caught Solith. "I can't.. that had to be.. embarrassing." Because he looks embarrass enough, himself, for them. He shifts on his seat, readjusting his legs in lieu of a rush of words, and wobbles his shoulders around. "Yeah, but.. not like.. that. I'm not even sure what.. that was," he mutters, darkly. "Yeah. That's what.. everyone says. It's still.." Another shrug. Words are hard. "It's only been a turn and a half." Quinlys' smug verges on smug ('verges' may be an understatement). "It could've been, but it wasn't so bad," she reports. That may also be an understatement, given her cat-that-got-the-cream expression. More important, though, is her, "These things take time. Just... one step at a time, okay? Be honest with yourself. And if you need guidance, or... just someone to talk to, you know where I live." Beat. "Work. Work is probably the better word, there. Still." They just won't go down that road, because Telavi, but V'ros gives her an undecided stare for a couple beats before sliding easily into his normal, anxious look. "I know. I'm.. okay. For now." He says it with the barest push of confidence, but wavers with another weak shrug that conveys a smidge of apathy; a good sign, obviously. "We're focused on the sweeps. With Nabol and the other areas. Zmeyth is sure we'll find them, but.." He looks like he'd rather do anything but that. "If you do," says Quinlys, firmly. "Call for backup. Immediately. Don't let Zmeyth try and talk you into being a hero, do you hear me?" Her expression has lost its softness; she means this. "It's a shit of a situation. The last time we had this kind of stuff... well, that's where Aishani's problem stemmed from. Because we executed her criminal of a father. History repeating itself, and all that." V'ros squirms under the bluerider's firmness, dropping his gaze to the table. "Um.. I don't.. Zmeyth couldn't make me.. I'm not fearless Quinlys.. you know." He idly scratches one elbow, braving a glance up at the redhead. "Yeah.. I had heard. Do you think if they catch these.. they'll.. execute them, too?" "I know," she says. "I just want to make sure you don't feel like you need to prove anything." Quinlys' expression, as V'ros glances up at her, is contemplative. "I don't know." She taps her fingernails idly upon the tabletop, before continuing. "K'del was Weyrleader then, so maybe he'd do the same thing, even with everything that's happened since. But I'd bet that Tiriana was the driving force behind it. And Tevrane's a bit of a wildcard, in this." "Thanks," the brownrider mumbles. "I proved enough the last time I met the.. uh, thieves." V'ros frowns, but says little else on the subject. "You think, if.. there was a different Weyrwoman then.. it would have happened differently?" he asks, genuinely curious. "They've hurt.. and killed.. and stolen from.. a lot of people. I can't think of a.. a.. different outcome. Keep them locked up.. forever?" That sounds dreary too. Quinlys' expression is sympathetic, for that first remark, but she doesn't push it. Instead, considering the subject thoughtfully. "You could send them to the mines," she supposes. "I don't know. I'm not saying you're wrong; in fact, you're probably right. There's... not much else you can do. And you have to make a statement. A... reminder to others. Example, rather. You know." "There's too much.." V'ros can't bring himself to say it, and instead, clamps his mouth shut. He kicks his feet out and puts his hands on the top of the table, fully intending to push up and stand. "It's nice.. catching up. You should come out to the Snowasis for one of the.. games.. have a drink. On me?" He does stand, then, and grabs his jacket. "Zmeyth wants.. ah, you know how he is," and he's got a goofy grin to follow, a tip of his head in the bluerider's direction. A pause. Then: "Sure, V'ros. Sometime. Have a good one." Quinlys' smile is cheerful enough, at least. |
Comments
Tela (16:32, 8 January 2015 (EST)) said...
"Verges." Verges.
Getting to see what Quinlys cares so deeply for, and something of V'ros' insecurities in actual words, and mentoring even now... I loved the worries and advice on Nabol.
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