Logs:To Know
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| RL Date: 4 June, 2012 |
| Who: Quinlys, Brieli |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys and Brieli think they know the same thing, and they probably know the same thing - but they don't want the same thing. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 12, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy. |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. Late in the afternoon on a snowy day, there's lots of people finding lots of reasons to hole up in the Snowasis for a pre-dinner drink or three. The nooks are filled with card games and conversations; some intense, some less so, while the tables hold people drinking, eating and chatting. The mood is brighter after the hatching - given so much weird news of late, it's nice to have something straightforward to discuss. Near the bar, Brieli has secured a table for herself to idly work at a colorful bundle of fabric and sip from a steaming mug. The table just might be in an excellent spot for listening in on conversations, but if the seamstress is doing that, she's not being obvious about it. Two redheads have been hanging out around the bar for a while now, shorter, older Quinlys buying the drinks for younger, taller Arysanne. Their conversation has been quiet but exuberant; for someone who ought to be still disappointed at her failure to Impress, Rysa seems terribly excitable. Finally, she wraps her arms around Quinlys in an enormous, enthusiastic hug, and then teeters off towards the caverns, leaving her bluerider sister to stare after her with pride and amusement, one arm on the edge of the bar. "I'm proud of you, Rysa," calls Quinlys, before she's gone. "You'll do great." Familiar enough with Arysanne to pay some little attention to the conversation, Brieli has been watching the pair out of the corner of her eye, expression unchanging but sharp eyes narrowed. Poking the needle into the fabric to take up her mug instead, she watches the younger of the pair jump on Quinlys for a hug as she takes a drink. The bluerider's call after her sister is reason enough for her to drain her mug before taking up sewing again, but its contents are warm enough (or spiked enough) to flush her cheeks as she gets back to mending the light cotton. Looks like there's more than one girl planning a trip to warmer climes. Quinlys' expression is thoughtful, staring off in the direction her sister departed in long after Arysanne is out of sight. Eventually, however, she picks up her glass again, and turns her attention back to the room so that she can idly scan it, too. It takes her a surprisingly long time to work her way to Brieli's table, given how close it is; once she's caught sight of the other girl, however, it lingers. It's not her mending that has caught the bluerider's attention, however - for a moment later, when she abandons the bar in order to approach, it's Brieli herself who has her attention. "Hey," she says, drawing up alongside. "Holding up all right? I've been there myself; I remember how it feels." Brieli might not notice how long Quinlys watches after her sister; she seems absorbed in her work, but for a moment where she orders a refill - but then again, how much focus does mending take? She glances up as the bluerider approaches, quicker to recognize exactly who she is now that she can be seen head-on. With a slight smile, adjusting her work in her lap, she'll admit, "Better than expected. I don't think I would have gotten on with any of the class. 'Your dragon wasn't out there' turns out to be more truth than I thought. How are you holding up?" Quinlys invites herself into a seat, the glass containing the remains of her fruity cocktail set down in front of her with a hand resting on either side. "That's a good way to think of it," is her approving reply, matched with a smile. "I couldn't see myself with any of them in that first clutch I Stood for, either. It still hurt, though. Twenty of them, and none of them could be right for me?" It's clearly a distant memory to her now, her expression more amused as she recollects than hurt. "I just had to wait. Olly showed up eventually. I'm - tired. I feel like I'm more use combing hair and fetching food than actually teaching, but I'm trying. Learning." Not minding the company in the least, Brieli rests her hands in her lap for a moment, in a little bunch. "I suppose there's that - thirteen seems so much less than twenty, somehow. And though it feels odd, I feel like I did something right in not letting Azaylia run. So perhaps that's why I was there. So that brute of a gold could find someone to keep her in line." And while she doesn't sound doubtful about the weyrling's ability, there's something about her tone that rings of concern. With a sudden smile for Quinlys, "You. Lirienne. Damaris. I suppose there's something to that, then. And I can only imagine. I've been told they're like babies, so..." She shrugs. Not much else TO do. "Azaylia's got a long road ahead of her," says Quinlys, sounding suddenly sympathetic and perhaps a little sad. "But she's trying so hard. You did the right thing, definitely. I don't really know you, I guess, but I definitely can't imagine you with Hraedhyth. It's funny how that works." Her hands slide closer together, reaching for her glass without actually lifting it from the table. "Mm," she agrees. "Exactly like babies. It's a huge thing, really. All of it. Anyway, Iovniath'll probably rise again in the next turn or two, so it won't be forever until you get another chance." She's breezy, with that last remark, her gaze dropping towards her drink. Perhaps a little sympathetic herself, "There's so much that's good about her. So few people are truly loyal. I wish she'd see that. It's no surprise to me that she'd trying hard. I'd guess she's wondering if she's done something wrong." With a laugh, Brieli looks up to see the server coming with another mug - it looks like some kind of fancy hot chocolate - and takes it, thanking her before, "I think Azaylia and Hraedhyth-" She says it slowly, looks to Quinlys for confirmation before continuing, "Are rather meant for one another. I... I can't say what I'd need, but I'm not sure that it would be her. Or vice versa." As for that breezy last remark, she agrees, "That's true. One or another of the golds." Sipping from her mug rather than saying more, she trades it for her needle. Quinlys' initial reply is quiet. "I think she's just far too overwhelmed, at the moment. And it'll probably get worse, in different ways, before it gets better." Those reflective words are set aside as the server brings that mug (which gets an appreciative, and then approving, sniff) - then, she leans back in her seat, lifting her own glass, pausing only to nod in confirmation for the young gold's name. "Exactly," she confirms. "Olly's nothing like the kind of dragon I imagined for myself, but now I can't imagine anything different. If you're meant to Impress, it'll probably surprise you, too. Anyway - four golds is pretty good, for an Interval." Does her expression briefly flicker then, as though she's thinking about something else? "So there'll be plenty of clutches, I guess. You're young." Quiet as she works for a moment, stitching neatly and carefully, Brieli eventually says, "I can see that. I can see anyone being overwhelmed by Impressing, and anyone being frightened by the idea of being a goldrider. But I can see Azaylia having a hard time in particular. I hope Iolene speaks to her." Quinlys' sniff beings a smile to her lips, and she glances between the bright floral print in her lap and the weyrlingmaster as her continues to pull the thread through. "If it happens, I'm sure it will - and it is quite a lot for an Interval, actually. I wonder if it'll be a few turns before the next flight." The flicker on the other woman's expression has her briefly curious, before, "It's not unheard of to be searched from elsewhere is it? It's less likely, but it's still happened - wasn't Lujayn from another Weyr?" "I hope she does, too. I remember Iolene and Ysavaeth's first days together, too." Quinlys' expression goes somber for that recollection, and tightens both hands around her glass, which she still doesn't actually sip from. She does, however, give Brieli's work a brief glance - and it makes her hesitate, silent for several seconds before she manages to recapture the thread of the conversation. "It could well be," she agrees. "Could be flights every few turns, really. It's - a lot less likely now that it's Interval, but sure, it's possible. Lujayn came from Fort, right. It-- it's possible." She gives Brieli a strange look, but distracts herself with a long sip from her drink. "I told her that it might be appreciated - Io, I mean. I wasn't here when they found each other, but I had the idea that both she and Azaylia might have a few challenges in common. Just from what she's said; how different she and Ysavaeth seem to be. In some ways. As much as I know anything about dragons." Brieli gives Quinlys a smile that shades towards self-deprecating - and as for the look the bluerider gives to her work, well - she just offers a cryptic little shrug. She doesn't make an effort to hide it at all, still working at a ragged bit, possibly the hem. "Just curious. I don't really want to go elsewhere, as difficult as I'm finding the winter so far - I've just found that the riders, not just the goldriders, have such varied backgrounds. From all over." The self-deprecating smile earns a grin in reply, but Brieli's cryptic shrug draws a longer pause. Finally, she aims for cheerful when she confirms, "That sounds about right. Hraedhyth and Azaylia, and Ysavaeth and Iolene. I hope that'll help. I can empathise, but I can't really understand, I guess." Quinlys gives a shrug of her own, setting her glass back down upon the table, then folding her arms in front of it. "Oh, sure. Lots of people from different places, absolutely. Weyrs tend to attract them, I guess. People, I mean. In general." It's kind of a lame conclusion, and she seems well aware of it. A moment later: "What're you working on there? Just random mending?" "Who can really understand anyone else's circumstance, unless you've been through it exactly? All we can do is empathize. I think that's enough, though - at least we're trying." Brieli might have noticed that long pause by her own light tone, light despite the seriousness of her words. Quinlys' answer and its lack of enthusiasm has her lifting her brows a touch, and the question after doesn't change her expression; looking down to tie off a knot, she says, "It's a sundress I managed to find in Stores." After her own pause, she'll just add quietly, "I know." Know? Know? Though Quinlys nods along cheerfully enough to the rest of Brieli has to say, that last quiet remark leaves her short, and her brows knit in immediate reply. The fingers of one hand curve around her glass, acting as if as an anchor, holding her on place. Because-- "Oh. I-- sorry. Rysa implied it was just-- she thought they were only sending High Reaches girls. And that it was a-- a secret." And one her other hand clamps over her mouth, as if she's suddenly afraid she's drawn the wrong conclusion from the whole thing: her eyes are wide and wary. Lowering her voice, leaning over the table, "I actually don't know who's being sent. Or how much of a secret it is; I just assume things are unless I'm told it's not." Brieli pulls in her chair a little, crumpling the sundress up in her lap as she claims her mug again. Finally taking in Quinlys and her stricken look, hands over mouth, she shakes her head a little, trying for reassuring; "Don't worry, no - I'm - I was asked. I'm not going to say anything." Beat. "But you might want to tell your sister to... rein it in a little." Quinlys looks instantly guilty, the moment Brieli has finished talking, though the rest has at least allowed her to lower her hand and seem slightly relieved. Relieved - and yet, too, thoughtful and surprised. "I'd better," she agrees, ruefully. "It's easy to get caught up in the moment, but... Shells. She's just excited to get another chance. She was gutted not to Impress, this time." She presses both hands back onto the table, now, watching her glass rather than Brieli until: "Well, good luck, anyway." Even if it doesn't seem completely genuine. "I should-- go talk to Rysa, I guess. Before everyone knows. Um." Not entirely sure what to say - and obviously uncertain - Brieli nods a few times, agreeing, "It's understandable." Though the seamstress herself is fairly composed and apparently sanguine about the whole thing... though she seems faintly disappointed by Quinlys less-than-convincing offer of luck and sudden need to depart. Perhaps a bit lamely, "Rysa's nice. And yes, if she has a tendency to talk... I don't know..." She trails off and shrugs. It's not her place to ask. "I hope you can get some rest soon." Is that an apology written in Quinlys' expression, an almost desperate one? It's hard to tell what she really means with that look, in the end. "Thanks," she says, sounding awkward. "I'm hoping I can get away to come and watch. Cheer you all on, right?" Her smile is still uncertain. And then, she's turning to go, walking rather faster than is probably necessary. It's not as though Rysa can really have done all that much damage in the past ten minutes. Offering something of a sympathetic smile in return - perhaps she understands? - Brieli offers a little wave as Quinlys heads off to head off Rysa, then goes back to checking over her work and drinking her hot chocolate. And eavesdropping. Maybe. |
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