Logs:Weyrling Rounds
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| RL Date: 16 June, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Damaris, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys checks in on various weyrlings, with various amounts of success. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 13, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
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| Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr Tucked off the back of the training room, the barracks are a huge, high cavern that stretches far back into the stone of the Weyr. Both of the longer walls are lined with couches for the dragons, enough for a couple of Pass-sized clutches at once, each matched with a cot and press for the weyrling dragonrider. In this day and age, however, the couches in the back have been allowed to grow dusty with long disuse. Hearths are spaced between every few couches to heat the big room. For decoration, there are a number of tapestries on the walls, looking almost as beat-up as the couches out in the training room, but scattered flower pots with their bright blooming contents provide a cheery touch. Additionally, some of the couches have had graffiti scratched into them over the Turns that were never quite cleaned off: smears of chalk messages or even rough pictures, some not fit for young eyes. In many cases names and dates have been painstakingly carved into the rock, a record of those that once made their home here. It's not snowing, and the sun's even shining despite the chill, and with classes done for the day that means most of the weyrlings have scuttled off outdoors with their dragons in tow: after all, there's a whole world to explore. A number of them have already had the mandated haircut (a few have grumbled; a few have acquiesced without a word), but at least Quinlys doesn't have the shears in hand when she wanders in to the barracks themselves. Instead, her hands are stuffed into the back pockets of her warm trousers, and she's quite casually wandering down the aisles, checking up on those who have not joined the afternoon stampede. As Iesaryth begins to catch up to the others in terms of general consciousness and movement, if not growth, Brieli's begun to look more herself, finding more time in the morning to put herself together into something decent - if nowhere near her usual, well-dressed self. Notably, even days and days before the haircuts began, the tall weyrling had started ensuring that her long, dark hair was pulled back neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck at the very least before starting the morning - as if to make a point. And it is quite a contrast from the tangled locks of the first month, and seems to bring about an all-round shift to a smarter, sharper, brighter Brieli. However, one thing that hasn't changed is her aversion to the cold; so it is that she's reading over some notes on Iesaryth's couch with the dragon beside her, seeming oddly absorbed in the information as well. It's not that Quinlys has been avoiding Brieli - that would be difficult to do, even with a number of weyrlingmasters on hand at all times - but still, one-on-one conversations have not exactly been on the top of her list. Now, though, there's no avoiding it, and her circuit eventually takes her towards that particular couch, that particular pair. "Brieli," she says, aiming for casual. "Iesaryth. How're you doing, today?" Her arms cross in front of her, folded about her mid-section, fingers splayed about her upper arms. Brieli hasn't precisely sought out Quinlys either, given conversations in the past, but when discussing business - such as it is - she's been pleasant enough. Today, she doesn't really notice the assistant weyrlingmaster until she's near upon them, so absorbed she is in her studies. With a blink up toward the redhead, "Oh. Quinlys. Ma'am. We're well - avoiding the cold. I'll have to sit the exam soon, so..." She waves the notes around to explain their existence while Iesaryth offers a quiet whuff of greeting in return. "Yourself? Olveraeth?" "It's not really an exam you need to study for," points out Quinlys, managing to sound amused despite that lingering awkwardness that is still so-obvious in her expression. She seems all the more awkward for the 'ma'am', but there's certainly no effort made to correct it. "We just need to know what you do know, and what you're going to need to catch up on, that's all. We're well, too. Olly's chasing some of the others around the bowl. Enticing them to try the ice on the lake." Her pause is only a handful of seconds too long; then, "Rysa wrote to me. She's doing well. And Riahla. She asked after you." "I know," Brieli sighs, tossing the notes aside in a hopeless sort of way, looking at them after. "I took these after I arrived. I think Azaylia's making me anxious about things that wouldn't normally bother me. She was really worried." But then, what isn't the other weyrling worried about? Glancing back up with a smile, attempting to ignore any awkwardness; "Perhaps we'll be convinced to do that soon. Right now, if I'm not intent on it, she's happy enough to be lazy." A pat for Iesaryth before Quinlys' too-long pause draws her brows together, but that passes in favor of a genuine smile at the mention of the other weyrlings. "I'm so glad they're all right. I mean, I was sure they would be, but it'll be so long before we can actually see one another. I hope she's happy. Rysa. It's a big change, moving all that way." The voice of experience. Mention of Azaylia has Quinlys twisting her mouth ruefully; her nod is a careful one, understanding and also attempting not to indicate too much by way of concern for the other weyrling. "It's kind of fun, while they're small. It was summer when Olly was, so we missed that experience; by the time there was snow and ice, they were just way too big to be trusted on it." At least talk of that other group of weyrlings is easy, and the bluerider seems to relax visibly as she picks it back up, her nod a cheerful one. "She's enormously happy. Her green-- it's worth being so far from home, I think. I think she's growing to like Monaco. I-- I'm sorry I made things weird, Brieli. Before. You caught me out." Perhaps oddly, that nod from the weyrlingmaster has Brieli looking relieved - someone is looking for the other goldrider. As if they wouldn't, but still. Quinlys' talk of ice has her looking a little less dubious and a little more interested, allowing, "Well - if they can't do it when they're bigger - and she's bound to be big - I should make sure to get her out. I'd hate for her to miss out on the experience because I dislike the cold." Again, she seems to let a breath out at the talk of Monaco, the apologies - it seems easier for her to have it out in the open, especially if Arysanne is happy with where she is. "That's good to hear. There's much to like about Monaco, even as different as it is. And-- please don't worry about it. I didn't think I was supposed to say anything... it was just nice to talk about it. I didn't mean for you to feel conflicted. Understandably." "It was-- Rysa wanted it so much. When I Stood, the second time, everyone thought I was an ideal choice for gold, but no one said it about her. I think she wanted to do one better than me, and--" Quinlys shakes her head, giving up on the explanations in order to look faintly relieved. "Anyway. I really am happy for you. And so's Rysa. She hopes you'll visit, once you're able to, which is ages away, of course, but..." The verbal diarrhoea trails off with that last sentence and, finally, the bluerider concludes, "I think it's funny, really. Rysa is finding the heat too much, and you're shivering in the cold." Faintly wistful, "Sisters. Sometimes, I miss having family around. Then, sometimes..." Brieli gives a wry little twist of mouth, shaking her head. Moving on, she tells Quinlys, over a sigh, "It is ages away, isn't it? Not that I want to rush things... it's just a long time to wait - and a long time to argue that knowing doesn't equal the ability for doing." She gives a nod towards the small gold beginning to doze on the couch next to her, quirking a grin. "And what's funnier is I wasn't in love with the humidity. I can't be pleased, apparently. I'll get used to the cold; I'm told it takes three winters?" Quinlys' advice on that front is, "Think of your clutchmates as your siblings. I mean, I've got three of my own already, but... you're kind of like a family unit, somehow. Plenty of arguments, but after a turn of working this closely? It's hard to not be bonded to people." Her smile is rueful in recollection as she continues, agreeing, "It's ages away. She's pushing you like that already? Olly did too, a bit. He wanted to know. All of it. Everything. Waiting's hard when they're little." Her arms finally unfold, allowing her to run one hand through her loose, shoulder-length hair - that hair that has had time to regrow since weyrlinghood. "That sounds about right, I think. Close to, anyway. By then, you'll feel practically a native." With a little smile, "I have blood siblings and adopted siblings. It feels a bit odd. But not unfortunate. I just... I just hope it's never an issue." Brieli doesn't specify if she means generally or between her 'clutchmates' at High Reaches - maybe it's all of it. Looking curious, "He did? Were you able to - dissuade him? She's so /smart/, she can find things out if she really wants to, I don't even know how sometimes - and I don't think she'll ever get over flying so young, even if it wasn't her doing it." Shaking her head with weary resignation, "It'll make the time pass, perhaps. And that's good. I'll count them down. Maybe throw a party for number four, 'Brieli won't freeze this turn, drinks for all'." There's a light furrow in Quinlys' brow for the first of what Brieli says, as though she doesn't entirely follow the chain of thought - but isn't inclined to press, either. It's the next remark she tackles, firmly: this is something she's sure about. "Distraction, usually. He's smart, too, maybe a bit like Iesaryth but... different too. It helped once we ended up in leadership training, because it was more to learn and, I don't know, different and new? Keeping him busy with stuff, even if it wasn't directly related to weyrling curriculum helped." It's not a complete solution, and her expression suggests she knows it; a moment later, she's adding, "Hah, good idea. By then... well, who knows, I guess. It's a while away." Furrow for furrow before; "Oh! I meant - Monaco, Reaches. Sort of - inbetween in a way. Nevermind." Brieli waves that off, seeming embarrassed for the whole discussion, quick enough to move on. "Distraction. Yes. Iesaryth is usually less restless when she's something else to think about - like when she started plotting snow-beasts and snow-dragons for Hraedhyth to practice... hunting. Instead of her hunting meat-buckets. Or someone's tail." That would be less-than-ideal. The tall weyrling sits next to her dozing dragon on her couch as she chats with a standing Quinlys. "And that might help later, more work. She doesn't mind helping me with... plans, and such." With a shrug for the sort-of-suggestion, she agrees, "Who knows. Either way, you're invited." Most of the weyrlings are outside, enjoying late afternoon sunshine; Quinlys is the only weyrlingmaster within, and though she was doing rounds, that seems to have fallen on the wayside now that she's talking to Brieli. "Oh! Of course," she confirms, smoothing over that misunderstanding with a cheerful enough smile. "Plotting snow-beasts, really? That's an excellent idea. Luckily for Hraedhyth, it won't be too long before real hunting can begin; that should make her happier. And we'll just have to keep Iesaryth busy." Her hands slide back towards her back pockets again, sinking in and making her look younger and more casual. "I look forward to it, then." Yawning into her elbow, Damaris leads the way into the cavern, Eolenth following along behind her. She's got a faintly vacant look to her face currently, though she is at least managing to watch where she's going. A hand comes up to wave in the direction of the pair talking, a quick smile flashed, but she's heading first to get the little green settled in here for a nap. "That," Brieli agrees with some certainty, "Will definitely make her happier. She has an awful lot of energy; that's why Iesaryth thinks she's angry, anyway. I keep saying she might just be like that, but..." The dark-haired weyrling lifts her hands - what can you do? "In any case, she might get other ideas - I'm hoping that they all remain so productive." Even so, she sounds rather doubtful. Waving to Damaris and the pretty green both as they enter, she returns the grin, then tells Quinlys lightly, "If I'm paying, I'm sure the whole Weyr will be. But it'll be worth celebrating, in my mind. I'll have it in my blood." It's only the sight of Brieli's wave that has Quinlys turning behind her to see who it is coming in; then, "Afternoon, Damaris," she calls, cheerfully. "She's all tired out, looks like?" But the green needs to be settled in for that nap, and so the bluerider turns back towards Brieli and adds, "I'm sure it'll be easier on Azaylia if that's all she needs to settle down. I guess we'll see. You're quite right, anyway: if you're paying everyone will want in. Speaking of - it'll be turnover, soon." "Entirely," Damaris replies cheerfully -- hooray, for tired out dragons -- and sends an impish smile along to go with the words. Soon enough she and Eolenth are slipping in to the green's space, and the little blonde is working on getting her settled in. When Dam does finally reappear, she's a lot more focused and a lot less yawn-y. Stretch. She heads for the other two, though she hangs back a little bit at least at first. Wrinkling her nose, "Mm. Well. We'll see." There's something else Brieli might add, but she doesn't - she just looks a little concerned for how easy it might be for the other weyrling. With a blink for Quinlys, she says, mystified, "So it will be. How did that happen without my noticing? There'll be a party or something, yes? Though I know, no drinking. Or one drink by then?" Seeing Damaris on her way over - or perhaps knowing her tendency to hang back - Brieli turns to ask the blonde in disbelief, "Did you realize it's nearly turnover? I think I might miss my own turnday right now." If there's more Quinlys would add, with regards to Azaylia, she holds back on it - anyway, there's turnover to discuss. "One drink," she confirms. "Maybe even two, if your dragons can stand it... just don't tell Meara I said that." Because her expression is just a little guilty the moment the words have come out of her mouth. "We had a masquerade ball last turn, so I guess it'll be something more casual this turn. It tends to alternate." She turns to grin at Damaris, inviting her in with a tip of her head. "Skating out on the lake, probably. Fireworks. It should be fun - a nice break from classes, anyway." "I...did not realize, no," Damaris replies lightly, stepping over the rest of the way with the unspoken invitation. She brings a hand up to push her hair back from her face, flashing another grin for the pair of them. "Fireworks and skating sounds like a lot of fun. Do we get extra sleep time?" Hopeful that, but playfully so. she's looking reasonably well rested, for all that she was yawning earlier. "Tell Meara you said what? I didn't hear anything." A shake of her head. "Time is going....so quick." Brieli immediately promises Quinlys, "I won't tell - though I don't know that I'll risk more than one anyway. It might just put me to sleep, and then where would I be? Passed out during one of the only parties we'll have for some time. I imagine there's visitors?" Just wondering. Though the news that she's missed the masquerade ball has the dark girl a little dismayed, however; "Well, I can't see finding a good costume like this, anyway." Looking Damaris' way with a grateful smile for the sleep question, she too pins a hopeful gaze on the weyrlingmaster. Echoing the other weyrling, "So quick... then Iesaryth complains about how it's dragging. Bizarre." Quinlys' wink for Damaris' remark on Meara is a cheerful one, though she admits, "At this point in my weyrlinghood it would have only put me to sleep, too. The first day of the turn'll be a rest day for everyone, so all you'll need to worry about is looking after your girls. The day before, we'll probably stop classes early, too." She rolls her shoulders back, seeming pleased, and adds, "Believe me, it'll keep going like this. Before you know it, you'll be graduated, and planning your masquerade costumes for next turnover and talking about the new start of turn thirty." "Oh, I do miss drinking," Damaris says mournfully, though there's too much humor in her eyes for it to be sincere. Quinlys's words have her looking briefly surprised, and then she's laughing. "Oh, we really /do/ get extra sleep? That's the best news I've had in forever." She shakes her head, eyes wide for a moment. "Hopefully it slows back down to a normal pace /someday/. I miss being coherent almost as much as I miss drinking and the rest of it." A hand is lifted, waved around vaguely. To Brieli she notes, "It's all perspective. Eolenth regularly grouses about how long it's all taking, though I think she may have picked that up from someone else." With a sigh, "That will be a lovely change. Not that I don't understand the need for the schedule, but... a party, some sleep - that will do wonders. Likely for everyone." Brieli looks buoyed by the idea, for all she still has dark circles under her eyes. As for Quinlys' assertion that it'll be next turn in no time? She'll look faintly dubious, simply nodding along with Damaris. "Coherent. Looking decent. Less drinking for me, but I miss nicer clothes." For the greenrider's last, she looks a bit apologetic; "If it's Iesaryth she's got it from, I am sorry. Though I have a sense they all would like to fly sooner than later." It obviously pleases Quinlys, that her news has pleased the weyrlings in turn; she's beaming. "Later, things do become a little... more orderly. But weyrlinghood'll never really be relaxing, I'm afraid, except perhaps towards the end, when it's all just more practice before you graduate. I remember how it feels. It's hard." Glancing from one weyrling to the other, she adds, mildly, "We'll need to complete haircuts before turnover, though." The words hang, waiting. "Haircuts," Damaris echoes back, glancing down towards her feet and then back up again. "Yeah." This has her wrinkling her nose up, but her expression is resigned. "I do think they all would," she agrees with Brieli. "And I have no idea who it was she picked it up from, and I'm not too worried about it. I'm quite positive she's shared some of her bad habits with the others, and no, I'm not saying which ones originated with her." Impish smile, and a shrug, and she looks to Quinlys. "I don't think I'd like /relaxing/, anyway. Because that translates to boring. It'll be nice when things settle some though." All the rest of it is forgotten for Brieli when Quinlys drops that particular little piece of information; though she nods and makes the right noises for what comes before, finding the notes she'd tossed aside before to clean them up all of a sudden. Still shuffling through them, with a pat to now-immaculately maintained hair, she says casually, "Iolene didn't have to, so I think I'm not going to." Like it's that simple. However. However. There's precedent. So not resigned at all by contrast - but not looking at Damaris either. "I doubt things will ever get to boring, at least." "Boring, hopefully not," agrees Quinlys, though it's the haircuts issue - and Brieli's words in particular - that have most of her attention. "I--" Am not qualified/confident/sure/ok with making that judgment call. Frankly, she looks suddenly enormously uncomfortable with the whole issue. "You'd have to talk to Meara about that. I don't-- it's not--" Words don't seem to be working in her favour, at present. Oh boy. Damaris glances thoughtfully at Brieli when she says she's not going to cut her hair, and then her gaze shifts to Quinlys, taking in her reaction. Hmm. She's quiet for a long moment, and then she's giving an easy shrug of her shoulders. "It's not a right this instant thing anyway," she says, voice pitched to cheerful. "Unless you're planning on chasing me around with a knife to cut my hair off, that is." She sends over a skeptical look towards Quinys's hands, like do-you-have-a-knife-there. Brieli didn't really expect Quinlys to be so flustered - but it seems to be working to her advantage for the time being, so despite a blink or two, she seizes the moment. "I can do that," she says quickly and easily. Even so, the weyrling seems a little awkward herself; something about the bluerider's reaction has her looking slightly abashed. "I... think I'm going to get something to eat. I'll bring some rolls back from the kitchen," she promises, easing her way off the couch. The picture Damaris paints brings a laugh, at least, amused. "I think that would wake Eolenth for certain." "I--" At least Damaris' words make Quinlys laugh, though it's far from a sure and confident one. "There will be no chasing with knives," she promises. "And no shaving your head during the night. Not unless we get lice in here... have you heard that story? The Weyrleader brought lice into the barracks when he was a weyrling, or so the legend goes." Brieli's impending departure doesn't really soothe the bluerider's awkwardness, though her nod is firm enough. "We'll see you later, Brieli." "Yes, and wouldn't that be a sight? Me running, you chasing me, Eolenth chasing her..." Damaris goes wide-eyed and she shakes her head slowly, and then she's laughing it off and offering them both up a grin. "Some rolls would be great. Something sweet too, I'd -- really, really appreciate it." Big smile, and then she's giving Quinlys a more genuinely horrified look. "Lice? What? I have not heard that story and now I'm going to have /nightmares/." Her hands lift to brush at her curls. Oh nooo. Brieli has to wrinkle her nose at lice - ew - as she gets out of the barracks for now to return with food. Always good for bribery. "All the more reason," says Quinlys, her voice pitched, quite possibly, so that it will follow Brieli out of the barracks, "To keep your hair short, now. The less hair you have..." It's probably not even necessarily true, but it sounds good. Damaris gets a wry glance, then, and she adds, "The story goes he claims it was H'tram, one of his clutchmates, but they both showed up with it. Huge mess. Sorry, though, if you do get nightmares. You're doing okay, otherwise?" She laughs, crossing her eyes at Quinlys. "You're going to end up chasing me around the cavern," she teases, tone impish. A beat later, "I'll sit still for you in a few minutes, if you want to do it. Might as well get it out of the way. How short am I going to have to go?" Ever so briefly there is a pained look. "You do realize my hair is my one vanity, right? Well, aside from all of my other vanities. But my hair is an important one!" Pout. It's gone in the next breath. "It sounds like a huge mess. Lice is no good. And I'm not going to actually have nightmares, and I'm doing very well. I am finding that I have had a great many benefits in my life, having had harpers for parents. So yeah. I'm doing good." A brief pause and she's asking, "How are /you/ holding up? Is it suiting you like you thought it would?" Her eyebrows lift, light curiosity. It's worth noting that of the haircuts completed thus far? Quinlys has performed exactly none of them - and Damaris' offer has her suddenly looking nervous. "You don't want to try and get a dispensation from Meara? I mean, Brieli's right. Iolene never cut hers. I had mine cut to my ears, but it grew again." Her hands get drawn out of her pockets, then, and fall to rest at her sides as she considers the weyrling. "Good. I'm glad to hear that, anyway. I guess those exams really were a piece of cake for you. I--" She has to pause before answering the question, and it makes her look a little overwhelmed. "It's hard. Harder than I expected. Olly's doing great, but I'm not sure I'm as good at the... laying down the law? Knowing the right thing to say? I'm learning." There's laughter at the nervousness, and Damaris lifts a hand to attempt to pat at the woman's shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay," she says. "I won't make you do it." Wink. "I'll cut mine, it's not that big of a deal, though I have to leave enough length that the curly will not consume me." Nosewrinkle. She nods to the notation about the exams, though when the overwhelmed look makes an appearance her impish humor gives way to sympathy. "You're doing great, for being so new at it," she says. "You really are. It's all a process, and learning. You shouldn't be hard on yourself about it. It's not like Weyrlings are the easiest group of people to deal with, anyway. Have you had much pranking aimed at you?" The pat makes Quinlys smile, at least, and draws her shoulders back down into a more relaxed kind of position. "I know what you mean, with the curly. I mean, mine isn't that bad, but it can be." A low sigh follows, as she allows, "I hope so. Thank you. I mean - I'm trying. No, not so much pranking, at least. I think people are mostly too busy for that kind of thing, though some of the dragons... I'm half convinced Helyranth deliberately keeps getting thick-tail just to make things difficult for K'jan and I." At least she can smile about that, too. "Mine is horrible and I am going to have a poof head until it grows back out," Damaris laments, looking all tragically mournful. She even brings a hand up to press the back of her wrist to her forehead, and then she's rolling her eyes and laughing it off. "If you're not being pranked," she says, "Then you're at least well liked. And between you and I, I think that 'shoulder to cry on when it gets to be too much to handle' is a very important and valid role to play. Not everybody has to be the foot stomping sort." Beat. "It's entirely possible." About Helyranth. It's a pretty obvious transformation, for Quinlys: from slightly awkward with Brieli, to comfortably relaxed with Damaris. Those theatrics just make her grin, a merry expression that doesn't fade, even as she's confirming: "I guess that's true. I-- mm. Someone has to be approachable, right? And just be there to help. I think that's how I fit in, for now, and I guess you're right, that's pretty useful. Anyway, Meara hasn't fired me yet!" She gives Damaris a thoughtful, considering look, then adds, "Pretty soon, there'll be more physical stuff for your dragons to get into, anyway. That should keep them busier. After turnover, probably." "Someone had best be approachable, yes," Damaris agrees with all apparent seriousness, though her eyes are still bright with humor. "It's a good place to be in, and I'm glad /you're/ in it, it helps keep me from being overwhelmed." Wink. "You're honestly doing fine, and I'd be very very surprised if she did fire you. That would make less than no sense." Pause. "More physical would be good. I'm going to start trying to talk her into chasing her /own/ tail. We'll see how that goes." Pride blossoms in Quinlys' expression on receipt of Damaris' words; she beams, pleased and grateful. "Thank you," she says. "That's exactly what I needed to hear. I - kind of stepped in it with Brieli, before she Impressed, and now things are kind of awkward with us, and I feel like I'm always saying the wrong thing." She breaks off from that explanation in order to run her fingers through her own hair, twisting waves out of the way of her face. "Poor Eolenth. So much energy, not enough things to use it for. They're an impatient lot, this group. I don't remember my class being quite so bad." Beat. "She's pretty, your Eolenth." "Stepping in it with one person does not mean you're doing a poor job," Damaris points out with a mock-stern look, reaching up again to pat. Pat pat. "You're fine, honestly. Doing great. I do not even have words for how relieved I was to walk off the sands with Eolenth and realize you were there. Which I didn't say then, because - well, you know. But I'm saying it now." There's the impish smile again, and she sends a look in the direction of her sleeping dragon, even if she's not quite in her line of sight. "It's the snow, maybe? Or was your class in the snow, too?" and then? Yes. She's preening. Totally preening. she straightens a little, lifts her chin, smiles a pretty little smile. "She /is/," she says. "I am so pleased. She's got to be one of the prettiest dragons there ever was." The patting makes Quinlys laugh, and she teases, "Which one of us is the weyrlingmaster again?" But it's helping, helping her look more relaxed and more confident, and less concerned about this recurring awkwardness. "Thanks, Damaris," she says, then, with a bob of her head. "I'm glad. No, we Impressed earlier in the season. No snow until much later - maybe that really does make the difference." Preening just makes her grin even more, as she adds, "I'm so glad. I know it doesn't really matter? But I love that Olly is gorgeous, and I was so excited that Eolenth was, too. I'm so glad that you're happy, that it worked out for you." She laughs at the tease, lifting and dropping her shoulders in an easy shrug. "We've all got our talents," Damaris replies, tone cheerful. She does certainly look pleased at the shifting of the other woman's demeanor, some touch of satisfaction creeping into her expression. "I think that the snow does make a difference, because it's at least a little harder to get the energy all worked out, and it /feels/ like we're closeted up more, even if we actually aren't, because winter is the time for stir crazy anyway." Her hands are lifted, waved in a helpless sort of gesture. Then? Horrified look. "Of /course/ it matters," she says, tone mock-shocked. "I would never have Impressed to a not pretty dragon. It wouldn't have been a good fit! Have you looked at me?" She tries to keep a straight face, but it breaks pretty promptly and she starts cracking up. As Damaris cracks up, so does Quinlys - her laughter is utterly unrestrained, loud enough that the few other weyrlings still in the barracks can all look up and see it; she doesn't seem to care much about that. "You're quite right," she confirms, once she's composed herself. "Absolutely silly of me to think otherwise, even for a second." Eyes shining with continued mirth, the weyrlingmaster finally digs her hands back into her pockets, and adds, "Anyway. Yes. The snow. I hadn't thought about it, but it totally makes sense. Hopefully we'll get more days like today, where people can just get out in it. I'd rather your gliding classes don't all get put off due to the weather, next month." She laughs, and it's a good one, taking what tension she was carrying around away with it as it escapes. Damaris looks positively thrilled to have received the unrestrained laugh, her eyes bright. Yes. Mission accomplished. She catches her breath and straightens back up, beaming at the words. "I'm glad you've realized your mistake," she says, and snickers again. At least she avoids more than that. "Hopefully we will. Getting out, feeling like we can breathe...it's good. I know Eolenth was happy." Beat. "Don't ever say that ever again, at least not where Eolenth can hear you. If she hears about gliding lessons being put off...I don't know what she'd do. It would not be pretty, though." "Promise," says Quinlys, crossing her heart and looking amused, still, despite it. "I won't mention a thing unless it actually happens, and I really don't think it will unless the weather is absolutely wretched. It'll be fine." She's so much more relaxed, now - visibly so. "Got any... complaints, problems, concerns, anything? Make me feel even more useful, please?" "Thanks," Damaris says wryly, her own amusement still clear. Even if she is part genuinely horrified at the thought of Eolenth dealing with canceled gliding lessons. Oh, and then there are questions about any issues she might be having, and the young woman is frowning a bit, thoughtfully. Hmm. "I..." Pause. "I wish I had /something/." Oh. A heartbeat later, she's clasping her hands together and staking a step towards Quinlys, eyes going wide with a hopeful sort of look. "I don't have any /issues/ and that makes me feel /weird/," she confesses. "Help!" That makes Quinlys laugh all over again, amused, but somehow at the same time, also relieved. "Oh no, don't even think about coming up with issues based on anything I say. I'm glad you're doing well; I'll just consider you a success anyway. It's because of my presence that you're issue-free. Let's go with that." She twists her mouth, but it remains cheerful enough. "If you do need anything, you'll ask, though, right? Eolenth can call Olly." A beaming smile, and Damaris is nodding agreeably. "Of course I will," she says. "But honestly, I'm - this is a lot of work, and I don't /like/ work, but this, I can't really /not/ do it. So I'm dealing." One shoulder is shrugged lazily. "None of it's bad or problematic. If something comes up though, you and Olly will definitely be the first to know." Beat. "And yes of course, it's all because of you." And it's at least partly true, too! Quinlys' expression, and the nod that accompanies it, is understanding. "It's work for a reason. And-- we'd do anything to keep them happy, really, wouldn't we?" Her hands draw together, fingers twining, but the rest of Damaris' answers only seem to satisfy her. "Good. That's - good. All of it. Well," she glances around, gaze skirting the rest of the barracks. "I ought to get back to my rounds, I guess. But - look after yourselves, right? And soon there can be more interesting lessons. And turnover!" "I do not like work," Damaris pouts, but again her eyes are smiling. This, it might not be /that/ bad. At least for now. It's all still a novelty. "And yes, I would do anything to make her happy. Which is why it's bearable, mostly." Laughter, and she's offering a thumbs up. "We'll look after ourselves, yes. Thank you, I appreciate what you do." A flash of a warm smile, and she's turning to pad back in the direction of the sleeping green. Steps light. "Thanks, Damaris," says Quinlys, still pleased, before she turns back to her rounds. More weyrlings to see to, more things to do. |
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