Logs:The Privilege Of Rank
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 3 May, 2013 |
| Who: C'wlin, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: As Flurry Wingleader, C'wlin gets his weyr before anyone else. Lucky him! |
| Where: All over HRW! |
| When: Day 8, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Meara/Mentions, N'hax/Mentions |
  |
| It's after class, still quite early in the month, when Olveraeth blows a galaxy's worth of stars in Athimeroth's direction and asks him, « Could you and your rider stay out here, please? » He's excited, somehow, and it shows: his voice is more pronouncedly nasal than ever. Quin leans up against her blue's shoulder, staring up at the cloudy, damp sky, arms crossed in front of her. The return of autumn has done awful things to Meara's arthritis; it's no wonder that Quinlys looks tired, given she's been picking up much of the slack as a result. Athimeroth is midway to the next highest ground when Olveraeth's galaxy enfolds the bronze's aether and winds; flags whip beneath the upper atmosphere's fury. « We could. » Not insolent, but with that pushing against the establishment. Just a little bit. C'wlin comes more sedately, shoulders back and demeanor crisp. The harper boy's sharp adherence to rules comes through in the clean lines of dress. "Ma'am," he greets, his bronze twitching, rustling wings. « You will, if you want-- » But whatever Olveraeth's promising, he's not promising it in absolute terms, not spelled out. Still, there's something, and from the way he says it, it's something good. "Wingleader," greets Quinlys, abruptly straightening and giving C'wlin what can only be described as a crooked smile. "Last month's Wingleader and Wingsecond got to fly first... well, that was the theory, anyway. Let's hope you and yours do better. Don't gloat too much when you get to move out of the barracks before the rest of them, okay?" She pulls a roll of paper out of Olveraeth's saddle bags. "Anything in particular you're desperate for, in a weyr?" Athimeroth is easily tempted by the promise of good things to come, stalking closer to the bluerider -- and blue -- with whirling intent in his eyes. "Ath. Stoppit," C'wlin commands, shooting his bronze an exasperated look. Then he turns back to Quinlys with what can only be hoped to be a charming smile. It lacks a certain charisma, a certain warmth, but hey he tries. "Weyrlingmaster." He glances to the sky, then back to the bluerider, this time a crooked smile tugs. "I'd love a weyr with a view. Enviable view." Because those wouldn't all be taken, right? "Other than that... secluded." As for the rest, "Oh I will make sure we perform at the best of our abilities. Even if I have to make everyone stay behind until we all get it right." "Your wing is going to hate you," says Quinlys, and she seems more than a little pleased-and-amused by this. "Hm. Well, I'm not sure what I can promise, but let's go and take a look at some, okay? See if there's something that strikes your fancy." She pulls away from her blue, but only so that she can clamber up to his neckridges, and beckon C'wlin to do the same on his own dragon. It's only once she's up there that she unrolls her paper, scanning down the list of what are presumably weyr coordinates with the detailed consideration of someone who at least more-or-less knows what most of them are. "Undoubtedly," C'wlin is a little too jovial about this. He even bounces on the balls of his feet a little, "But I bet -- hope -- the wing will get results. D'kan left a good foundation. I'm building on that." As the topic turns to weyrs, the former-harper is quick to mount a dancing Athimeroth. While flight works out well, it's a bit of a dancing challenge that C'wlin must scale to finally sit astride his lifemate. "Like the wind, he is," he tosses back to Quinlys with a twinkle in his eye. Exhilarating this is, his expression says. Buckled in, he's ready to go and gives the WLM a thumbs up. Totally ready to go! Whatever Quinlys' opinion on C'wlin's words is, she keeps it to herself, focusing instead on her list-- and then, a moment later, on Olveraeth's wingbeats as he draws himself aloft. If the weyrling is watching, he might seeing her counting as they fly: third from the left, three up, and-- abruptly, Olveraeth circles to land upon a ledge that's not so far from the Weyrleader Complex. >---< Lofted Dreams Weyr >---------------------------------------------------< Not so far off from the weyrleaders' complex but several levels high, a medium-sized ledge juts stonily from the cliff. It's not especially remarkable, what with the checklist of part to land on and overhang to sit under when it's raining, except that the entrance to the weyr is tall but narrow that requires care with one's wings. Inside, the weyr itself is also tall but narrow, the wallow a two-story affair while the living area's made more spacious by the loft installed above it. While outside it was plain, inside, it's all about the details: the stone cleverly worked to shape heat and sound into comfort, the built-in benches smoothly chiseled into a corner where a table might fit, and best of all, what seems to have been a ship's mast wedged from the loft level to the floor - a smoothly polished pole, the better to slide down in a hurry for a literal or metaphorical fire. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< Quinlys is like the Pernese version of a real estate agent! Athimeroth is lucky to still be not-quite-full-grown, and thus the wing-wiggle-flight onto the ledge is not too hard to navigate. Well, the bronze has to make it more difficult than necessary -- what wind is tamable -- but finally, landing occurs. "This," C'wlin's voice holds reserve for what might come, but there's /promise/, "/is/ cool." Cue the tilt of his head to look at the MASSIVE(ly narrow) entrance. Quinlys certainly seems to take her job as real estate agent quite seriously: once they're landed, she's quick to dismount and head indoors, turning back to glance just once and say, "It's not a bad ledge. Decent place to stare down at the queens from, if he's into that. Let's see what's inside, mm?" She seems to have some idea of what's to be found, anyway, because the sound she makes is contented and approving. "This weyr. All the details." C'wlin follows, glancing back to Athimeroth who's already scoping out the ledge. "It does have a nice view." However, whatever views might have been appreciated is eclipsed by the space beyond the entrance. "Oh yes. This has /class/." Already, the weyrling is stepping further into the weyr, trailing his fingers over the detailed stonework. And that loft. "I like this place." While some reserve is held not to jump to the first weyr he sees, he's hard pressed to /not/ want this one. Details! A loft! What more could a harper want?! Quinlys seems inclined to look rather than touch, though the wave of her hand seems to encourage C'wlin to do whatever he likes. "The benefit of getting the tour on your own," she remarks, keeping her gaze focused, amusedly, on the weyrling. "Is that you can keep this one under advisement and still check out others, without having to worry that someone will steal it from under you. The others have to use strategy. They might claim one, and then go on and find something better, but it's too late. Or they might hold out for something better, and then miss out." Beat. "Anyway, I love that pole in here. I bet it'd be fun to slide down." C'wlin shoots Quinlys a side-long look, murmuring, "I am grateful at getting the first peak," half-distracted by what this place has to offer. "I am enchanted by the pole," said almost scandalously, though this weyrling is not quite the type to be imagining women dancing on the pole. "I like this weyr. Top of my list," look, C'wlin does have a sense of humor! Dry, maybe, and delivered in deadpan, but still. He turns around, tearing his eyes away from the loft and the detail-work. "Definitely interested." Mouth twitching, amusement obvious, Quinlys shakes her head. "Okay, so this goes on the list. You sure you don't just want to stick with this one, and not get yourself tangled up deciding between the benefits of one weyr and the next? I'm just saying." Is it her fault that she can't help herself but swing idly around that pole as she passes it, one arm stretched out. At least she doesn't try and climb it. Still: "Anyway, if we're checking more out, we should keep moving. Also, as far as I know no one's died in this one recently, so that's good, right?" It's breezy, cheerfully said, and said as she meanders her way back towards the ledge. "Tempting," C'wlin watches Quinlys swing 'round that pole from 'neath pale, pale lashes. Surreptitiously! He's getting better at it. "But since I'm not pressured to make a decision right now, I think I'll wait to see all of the ones on the list. That way I won't always wonder if there was a cave of wonders I missed out on." Might as well enjoy these perks! Mock grumbling, Quinlys says, "You just don't want me to get off duty at all tonight. Isn't it enough that Meara's-- anyway." At least she gives him a grin, reassurance that she really is teasing. A moment later, she's clambering back onto Olveraeth, checking her list, and then leading the way onwards. The next ledge she aims for is higher up, just beside the aerial entrance to the hatching caverns. Olveraeth has to land, let her off, and then take off again: it's not a big ledge, this one. >---< Winter Warmth Weyr >---------------------------------------------------< Situated just beside the wide entrance to the hatching caverns, this oddly-shaped ledge looks as though half of it has been cut away in order to make room. It's not very big, though the sun hits it at such an angle in the afternoon as to make it the perfect lounging spot, as long as one doesn't mind their tail draping off towards the bowl. What it lacks for in size, it makes up for in position: this is a ledge for the dragon who wants to see everything, from visitors to the hatching grounds to more distant activities throughout the bowl. Inside, there's a hollow depression in the stone large enough for even a small bronze, with a narrow walkway around it for human occupants to make their way into the long, narrow cavern of the inner weyr. It's always warm in here, as though the heat from those next-door hatching grounds have seeped deep into the walls, staying close so as to keep things toasty in winter, and occasionally, unbearable in summer. The inner weyr is a single cavern that extends a long distance back into the bowl wall, growing steadily narrower as it goes until, at the very back, the width is only enough for the double-sized bed that has been jammed up against the wall. There are built-in sconces for glows in the walls, however, and the ceiling is high enough that it isn't as claustrophobic as it could be. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< C'wlin laughs, following after Quinlys. His mounting of Athimeroth has an acrobatics touch this time as bronzerider learns to tame the aether that's his fidgety dragon. "Maybe, maybe." Now, once they have flown up to the next weyr, it's clear to see that C'wlin is not as enchanted. Athimeroth, however, is a different story all together. Once his rider is deposited, he's sprawwwwwwwling across that little ledge, hogging up all the room. "Hmmm," the boy is not unaware of his dragon's antics, but remains unconvinced. "It doesn't have quite the detail as the other had." His voice? Almost disappointed! "Most of them don't," Quin warns, gaze sliding from C'wlin - whose reaction she's been watching - towards his dragon. At least she seems amused by his opinion of the weyr. "This one... it's in a nice location, but you're right, it's not nearly as interesting. I guess that means we should keep moving, yes? No point wasting time on weyrs that aren't going to make the cut." Athimeroth rumbles a protest vaning his wings and just about to snap something when C'wlin gets a handle on this situation. "Yes, let's move on. It's nothing compared to the other one," and that's said pointedly to the bronze, who's no longer master in this little set up. At least not most of the time. Crooked grin is sent towards Quinlys before he's turning towards the entrance of the little ledge. "Plus that is entirely too small. Look, Ath, you can barely fit now. What happens when you're bigger and you can't squeeze that butt onto that ledge, hmm? Yeah, that's what I thought." And with that, this weyr is rejected. Quinlys seems to like determined rejections (it's probably true that despite her teasing on the subject, she would prefer to not have to inspect - and then re-inspect - every weyr on her list before she gets to finish for the day), and waves them onwards again. Of course, she has to wait until C'wlin and Athimeroth have moved aloft once more before Olveraeth can return and pick her up-- but it doesn't take too long. Once in the air, they head out across the bowl, towards the lake, ending up on a much larger, roughly square-shaped ledge midway up the bowl. >---< Oversized Chessboard Weyr >--------------------------------------------< If one can see beyond the grit, grime, and guano of disuse of this large, square ledge, it's quite a find. What it lacks in cleanliness it makes up for in size and charms hidden under the coating of dirt. The stone underfoot is solid and the ledge's design helps it shed snow and rain. Most surprising of all, a nearly complete set of chess pieces, each about three feet high. Under the grime is a fading pattern of white stone and redwort-stained sections that make up the board for these oversized game pieces. Further inside, there's a pair of 'pillars' by the door that are really just stacks of outsized checkers, one set of interlocking pieces stained darker than the other. Past those are a couple of dusty wallows for a dragon or two, the space designed with them in mind. The rock of the couches is smooth, but outcroppings behind them are rough, perfect for taking care of that awkwardly-located itch. The human parts of the weyr seem almost an afterthought, being small and rough-hewn. They're located at the bottom of a small series of steps, where a sitting area at the front boasts a couple of padded chairs and nothing else. The sleeping area at the back has a small fireplace and a couple of alcoves filled with a bed and a clothes press, respectively. The decorations here are the work of a woodcrafter, the bed ornately carved with roses and ships, its posts topped with pawns. Included here are the missing chess pieces from outside. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< After landing and dismounting, C'wlin's expression says it all. "This is ..." he peers around the ledge and into the deeper weyr, "... some weyr." Nose wrinkles, disgust filtering into what shows on his face. Even Athimeroth steps lightly around all the dirt, grit, grime and guano. "I think this one is a no. Great location, great size, but this is a fixer-upper. And I'm not really into fixer-uppers. Even if they come with great pieces of chess." Y'know, because they are work. Work. Turning back to Quinlys, he's already heading back to the bronze. "Next." This time, Quinlys hasn't even managed to dismount by the time C'wlin dismisses the weyr. She laughs, her head shaking back and forth, her eyes watering. "Shells, a man who really knows what he doesn't want. If I recall correctly, this one used to be lived in by a convict, once upon a time. Someone Taikrin knew. Not sure what happened to him'--" But she breaks off. This is not story time. This is weyr finding time: she waves them onwards. The next ledge is a little higher than the chessboard one, but still on that side of the bowl-- a big ledge, too, and relatively sunny. >---< Questionably Painted Weyr >--------------------------------------------< What a spectacular weyr! Its large ledge boasts a pair of perfect hollows, room enough for a pair of bronzes, and just inside the entrance are a series of shelves cut into the stone, ideal for displaying small knickknacks and keeping everything organized. At the back of the weyr the cavern branches into two good-sized back rooms with a double-sided fireplace occupying the wall they share. The weyr even comes already decorated. It has an ornately carved bed and press in both of the rooms; the front area offers a polished rectangular table and six matching chairs, a set-up perfect for entertaining. Rugs are scattered across the floor, their colors bright and cheery to match the walls. But oh, those walls! Some artistic hand has painted mural on every wall, filled with bright colors and bordered by mixed fruits and vegetables. The mildest murals are filled with exuberant scenes of dancing people, but most of them are of a more... questionable nature. They're certainly not the sort of thing any concerned parent would want their children to see, though they give the weyr a definite party atmosphere. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< "I have no interest in cleaning that up!" C'wlin laughs before mounting Athimeroth and taking to the skies to the next location. This time, there's more of a walk-about. "I like this one. Great location, large, I like the inner rooms and the fireplace." He turns attention to the murals. "Those... I'm not sure about. They kind of take away the charm." He glances to the weyrlingmaster. Following C'wlin through the weyr, Quinlys can't seem to help herself: her mouth twitches, and then again, and then, finally, she's outright giggling. "They're pretty awful, aren't they? There was a greenrider in here... I think he really got off on them, you know? Gr-something. I think they'd put me off my lovers, though. But some people find them... instructive? Interesting? I don't know. I suppose you could paint over them." Though her tone is dubious. "Yeah. They're special all right. I guess they could be painted over, but man are they distracting." C'wlin turns around, watching the walls then glancing back to Quinlys. "If it didn't have people humping on the walls, it'd be great." With an almost charming smile, he dismisses this weyr and heads out to the wide ledge. "Pity, though, it is so large." Athimeroth has no interest in this place either. "Next!" Hey, Quinlys does a pretty good job at being a real estate agent! Excuse Quinlys a moment: she has to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh at that humping remark. It means she's a little slow to make it back out to the ledge - it takes time to recover! - but at least once she's out there, she's quick to climb back atop her patient dragon, and lead them on, back into the air. This next one is also on this side of the bowl, high above the lake, with a spectacular view of the water below. >---< Bosom Buddies Weyr >---------------------------------------------------< Much worn, this ledge dips like a wallow itself, forming a shallow bowl cupping the entry to the weyr. Water likes to pool there, despite the groove carved to lead it out and over the edge of the ledge. One spot to the side features a bench carved out of the stone wall; sitting there reveals a charming view of the Weyr's lake, far below and just beyond the curve of the ledge. Beside the chair is the weyr's entry. Inside, the weyr opens into a single kidney-shaped chamber, not fully separated into dragon and human areas. It lacks, too, a distinct wallow, instead having two or three shallow depressions worn out by different dragons over the turns. The narrowest point of the weyr is just past that, and it features a series of hooks across it, bisecting the weyr and allowing a curtain to be hung there to separate rider and dragon quarters. Further in, along the outside curve of the wall, a storage closet has been hollowed out, its door hung with a curtain. Past that, the back lobe of the weyr has a rounded fireplace decorated with carvings that seem grown out of the rock as they support the broad mantle. On it rests a single multi-colored rock, shimmering with indigo, violet, and olive. Like many weyrs, this one also features a stone shelf for a bed, laid out with furs already. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< "Now this is a view," C'wlin is enchanted by this view. As is Athimeroth, though he's happier being up high and cares little for the watery view. "It's missing the detailing, but at least crap isn't piled up in the corners." He walks deeper in, turning around to get the best look at the weyr, from top to bottom. "Definitely on the list. Especially with that view." "Higher or lower than the first one?" wonders Quinlys, digging her hands into her pockets as she follows C'wlin around through the weyr. "I still prefer the pole. If it were me, I mean. I mean, views are great, but--" Pole. Apparently. She wipes some dust off of the mantle as she passes, and sneezes: "Ugh. Needs cleaning, though, at the very least. Guess they all do. Kind of what happens when they're not lived in for a while. How many more do you want to see?" "I think..." C'wlin turns around and gives the weyr a last look. "... I don't need to see any more. I like the view on this one, but I like the smaller, less people friendly size of the other one." He side-glances at Quinlys, sly smile playing on thin lips. "And the pole. And the loft. It's different, and I like different." Plus, he can keep an eye on the Weyrleader's complex. "I'll take that one, and I really want to know who's going to go for the humping weyr." C'wlin? Making a joke? The world ends! Quinlys seems pleased, rather as though she's had some hand in this decision, or in some kind of achievement-- perhaps it's simply that she's pleased he's finally made a decision, which hopefully means she can go off duty, yay! "I think you made the right choice," she says, firmly. "Well - I'll mark it down as yours, then. You can move in whenever you're ready. Of course... don't let it be a reason why you're late to drills. Or," a smile twitches upon her mouth, broader than ever, "anyone else for that matter. And this one... can go to one of your classmates, maybe. We'll see. In another couple of days." "No one will be late to drills, least of all myself." C'wlin is back to being dour and perfectly terrible. "N'hax is good at what he's been tasked to do." Have you seen that guy? He's a great enforcer! "Perfect. I look forward to my own space." The barracks is getting a bit crowded, what with all the romances blossoming at the easing of restrictions! "Thanks for taking the time for this." Gratitude surely makes up for cutting into beer-o-clock, right? Right! Quinlys's expression implies - like a cat considering some cream - that she wouldn't mind N'hax doing some, uh, enforcing... but that's wholly unprofessional, and hastily changes. "Of course," she agrees, cheerfully. "I'm glad you found something you liked. Now-- shoo. I have a date." Which means: she's not sticking around either! C'wlin's eyes might narrow, but it's subtle and besides he's got some new space to move into. "Enjoy," he calls out, giving her a toodle-doo gesture and saunters out of the weyr and towards his dragon. Soon enough weyrling and dragon are out of her hair! |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:The Privilege Of Rank"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 05 May 2013 03:12:37 GMT.
C'wlin is back to being dour and perfectly terrible.
...Okay, I can't get over how spot on that is. XD And I love all of these weyrs! Can't I get a new one, too? What? What gold dragon? >_>
It was really cool to see what C'wlin (and Athimeroth) were looking for in a place to call their own. Looks like they made an excellent choice, in the end!
Leave A Comment