Logs:The Weyr Is Mother, The Weyr Is Father
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| RL Date: 23 July, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, D'kan |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: D'kan seeks out the Weyrwoman, then freaks out because... it's the Weyrwoman. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 4, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Heavy, driving rain makes everything a wet and muddy mess today. |
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| Records Room, High Reaches Weyr Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls, and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded. A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets, scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets. To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture. Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs.
D'kan is... mostly dry. His clothes have recently been changed, at least, and his hair has been toweled off, so he's in no danger of dripping on a Harper's precious records. It does not seem to be records he's seeking, however, because as he stands near the entrance and scans the room, it isn't until his attention lands on Azaylia that he starts moving again. Sans riding gear, and therefore knot, it is nonetheless apparent that this once humble dockworker has been moving up in the world recently, as his clothing has taken a definite upturn. Rather than some generic hand-me-down from storage, his shirt of dark blue looks tailored, the material comfortable and new, the buttons all matching perfectly. New seems to be the theme, in fact. Only his boots bear the scuff marks of much wear, but maybe they'll catch up. "Weyrwoman?" D'kan says in a quiet and polite voice, dark eyes only briefly landing on the hides in front of her before he motions toward the chair across the table, silently asking permission to sit. "Mmm..." That's for the first half of what she's writing, "...hmm?" Only after she's punctuated the end of her written words does she look up with a warm smile. "D'kan. It's Azaylia, please." After that same old song and dance, her hand flutters at the chair, "Please. It's been too quiet." Gathering up her hides, some seem to be old recipes while other are tithe inventories from Turns long since passed. "You look good." Pardon the surprise, but, "Graduation gifts, or..?" Her arms cross atop her paperwork, leaning forward on the table with genuine interest in both his clothing and the reason he's sought her out. "Right," is in response to calling her Azaylia. Maybe someday is the unspoken subtext of tone. There is the briefest moment of mildest alarm at the emphasized "good", but then D'kan glances down at his shirt while sliding into the chair. "Oh. Well... no." He pulls the chair in and nervously folds his hands on the edge of the table. "Kind of why I wanted to find you, actually." The thumbs of his folded hands pressed against each other briefly, tip to tip, and his feet can be heard to shift under the table before he gets on with it. "How's the Weyr doing?" Something of a blurt, but an honest one. "I mean... with the weirdness from the Hold and all that. Finances? Cutting it close, or just rumors?" D'kan's momentary unease is met with a gentle smile, and it's not often Azaylia looks as though she knows. Knows what? She doesn't say, the expression shifting towards concerned curiosity at the brownrider's question. "It's..." She takes a moment, letting out a slow sigh afterwards. "Well, the Weyr has fallen on harder times, but it's also been better." There's a faint wince, realizing how unsatisfactory that must be. Instead, she tries again, "Any little bit would help but-- I don't want you skipping meals, if that's what you're getting at." "Okay," D'kan replies quietly, though it's a concise sound rather than dissatisfied. He stares at his hands for a moment, then lays them flat against the table. "It wasn't meals, it's... Kaz and I have managed... well, something of a business for ourselves. Not even sure how..." He trails off, frowning, then pushes onward. "Started out during weyrlinghood, when stuff got a little slow. Figured, why not see who needs stuff moved? Well, Smiths always do, right? So we just started doing... you know, deliveries and stuff. But then the deliveries got bigger. More complicated. Then the Miners started contacting me, and now..." He presses his hands harder against the table in an effort to stop the running-mouth syndrome. "We haven't gone more than a sevenday lately without at least one at least marginally profitable job. At first, figured, hey, why not have a few nice things. But..." Again he trails off, lips pressing together in a hard line for a moment before the table pressing stops, and he leans back against the chair. "Wouldn't be there without the Weyr. I'd feel better taking a cut of this than all of it. So I wanted to know what I should do about that." Azaylia is quiet during D'kan's explanation, arms still crossed for comfort as she leans with polite attention. As he talks, the weyrwoman's head takes on a thoughtful tilt, her gaze unintentional in its scrutiny. It's his last sentiment that brightens brown eyes, though her murmur is gentle, "You don't owe the Weyr anything, D'kan. But," Before he might object, her smile returns, "I know how you feel." And that's what matters. She straightens up in her seat, "If you want to help our home with extra marks, I'm not going to stop you." She reaches out, hand resting atop his, "It's your choice. I just hope you still have enough to buy yourself more nice shirts." D'kan's eyes follow Azaylia's hand when it lands on his. He doesn't pull away, but his posture tenses, and his expression changes just enough to show his discomfort. He doesn't pull away, but it's probably an effort. "Shirts," he echoes quietly, voice a bit tight. "Yes, there... I'll... I mean, Kazavoth would insist on it, right? So..." He can't hold out any longer and pulls his hands back over the edge of the table. They were probably getting uncomfortably warm anyway. "It's not so much something 'owed', but... well. I'll see about some sort of... bookkeeping. Or something. Or..." He waves a hand vaguely while getting to his feet again. And moving behind his chair. Which gets pushed in. "That would be... the headwoman? Head clerk?" Is there such a thing? "You? Uh... anyway. Thank you for the chat." Cue an awkward pause. Then another. Then an awkward exit, stage left. There's nothing weighty in the way Azaylia's hand rests on his, touch as gentle as her voice. When he does pull back, there's no insult taken and she comfortably crosses her arms once more. With that faint smile from earlier, "The headwoman, yes. Then it will come to me, and then we can put your marks to good use." Or try to, depending on the amount he's made doing odd jobs for miners and smiths. In the midst of one of D'kan's awkward pauses, "Thank you." Her gratitude is genuine, though her gaze doesn't linger, going back to her hides so that the brownrider can make his awkard exit without an audience. After he's gone, there's a soft laugh under her breath... but by then the cause isn't as obvious. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:The Weyr Is Mother, The Weyr Is Father"Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 25 Jul 2013 02:51:28 GMT.
Who would've thought... The (former) weyrlings, chipping in for the Weyr. Deke and his marks, Alida and hunting extra game to put on the tables... :)
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