Logs:Weyrlingmaster to Weyrlingmaster
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| RL Date: 25 December, 2015 |
| Who: Olivya, Quinlys |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Olivya visits High Reaches, seeking advice. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Dahlia/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Kh'tyr/Mentions, Meara/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions |
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| It is a Monacoan (or Fortian, now) green that appears in the skies above High Reaches, making a graceful and showy landing in the bowl, enough to draw eyes and attention to her lush, dark form. Her twining ivy thoughts take advantage of the attention, exploring draconic thoughts and asking until she finally finds the right one after he's been identified. Olveraeth's subjected to those growing vines, attempting to encroach on his thoughts even before Ivraeth invites, « Does your rider have a moment for mine? She will buy her a drink. » The image of Snowasis is shared from Olivya's mind, the blonde having made her way to it immediately after arriving with a seeming unerring ability to find the bar. She settles herself into one of the private nooks, for all that her bright red jacket doesn't make her inconspicuous even there, facing the entrance and the rest of the cavern to watch it in an idle study. It's not often that foreign greens (and their riders) seek out Olveraeth (and his); luckily for them all, classes have been dismissed for the day, and no weyrlings are hovering for Quinlys' attention in the immediate sense. Ivraeth's vines may encroach, but Olveraeth's stars go on forever, reorganising themselves into constellations around those verdant intrusions. « She'll be there, » he promises, curiosity writ deep into those endless, heavens. A few minutes later-- the time it takes the bluerider to cross the bowl, plus a few extra minutes for safekeeping-- the redhead appears in the bar's entrance, turning to study the cavern for a few moments before-- there-- her gaze alights upon the not-inconspicuous foreign rider. "You," she says, as she approaches, "Must be Ivraeth's rider." It is clear that the endless possibility of Olveraeth's thoughts appeals to Ivraeth, where her own mind will linger against his even after she's delivered her message. « Beautiful, » she'll even encourage, a subtle flirtation to the word. Olivya's gaze has already found Quinlys before the bluerider finds her, taking the moment to take the other woman in in a weighted look, and then she rises in one graceful movement to extend a hand to Quinlys. "Yes. Olivya, Weyrlingmaster of Fort," she introduces herself. "Thank you for coming. I know you must be busy, but I promise to make it up to you." Her dragon isn't the only one to flirt, especially paired with the crooked curve of her lips. "What do you drink?" Olveraeth is pleased. Olveraeth is never one to turn away some harmless flirting; instead, he amps up the imagery, sharing distant galaxies and nebulae, spread out forever, endlessly beautiful (just like Ivraeth). Quinlys accepts that hand, shaking it with a firm grip that is somewhat belied by the smoothness of her skin. "The Monacoan," she confirms, blue eyes studying Liv with interest. "My sister speaks highly of you-- Rysanne? I believe she flew in your wing for a time. Whisky, straight." There's a gleam in her expression, flirtation matched in that arch of brows, that smug smile as she sinks into a seat opposite the greenrider. "I'm sure we can make this worth both our whiles. Congratulation on your promotion. You must be pleased." Ivraeth has little to add, except perhaps she is just teasing where she reflects his imagery with a specific glow to each individual star, beyond their usual light. She is content to share these thoughts, to bask in his imagery, while her rider attends to-- business. "Yes, I remember her. She'd Stood for Zaisavyth's daughter and found Elasarath," recalls Olivya easily, tipping her chin as she examines Quinlys. "You do have a look of her." She holds up a finger in a gesture of patience, paired with a promise of "I'll be right back," before she steps away to the bar. She gets served quickly, at least, and is soon back with one whiskey that she settles in front of Quinlys and a clear drink that she settles in front of herself as she reclaims her seat. "I am pleased. But, I have-- my reservations. I'm not sure how much you've heard through your sister, but." She trails off, pausing to observe the bluerider. Olveraeth likes the glow; such fun! His rider's nod confirms Olivya's summation of her sister's story, but for actual conversation? That will need to wait until the greenrider returns, her stubby fingers wrapping about the glass that she lifts in acknowledgement-- a toast. "I know the rumours, if that's what you mean. That you fucked your way into positions." She relates that knowledge evenly, no trace of censure or curiosity. "And now you're at Fort, where your dearest friend-- I'm guessing on that front, but I'd be surprised to be wrong-- is now Weyrwoman. And you, Weyrlingmaster." "I've had my fair share of lucking into the knot. Being in the right place at the right time, and knowing the right person," is how Olivya will choose to phrase that, but she doesn't seem upset at acknowledging the rumors or the reality. Her gaze, instead, drags over Quinlys in a look that is both thoughtful and appreciative. She adds after, practically, "I did spend time as an assistant under Monaco's Weyrlingmaster, and I have experience in the wings. But that won't matter to anyone unless I prove that it was more than luck." She lifts her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip as her soft, blue eyes remain on the other Weyrlingmaster. "My predecessor only appointed me co-weyrlingmaster because the rider she had lined up to transfer in from Telgar to replace her backed out after Iolene's murder." Quinlys is bald in making that statement; it is, in its own way, tacit indication that she understands at least some of Olivya's situation. It may also be a deliberate way to draw historical relations between High Reaches and Monaco into the open. If so, the bad blood is not personal. "You don't have terribly long to get yourself situated and ready to impress, do you? That's your first problem, aside from the obvious." Drawing out that bad blood does see a reaction, but it is a subtle thing, only shadows passing through blue eyes even as Olivya smiles briefly. But then she admits, "I've already spoken to other Weyrlingmasters. I've already visited Benden and Ista. Given Ebeny's illness and then pregnancy and that she now has a newborn--." She taps perfectly manicured fingernails against her glass, considering Quinlys before she adds in suggestion, "I am looking for any advice that anyone would like to offer about stepping into the position. That you were only appointed because of circumstances can only help, I think." Amusedly, "I'm terribly offended to not be your first stop." She's not. Quinlys pauses, then, so that she can draw her glass towards her mouth and sip, holding the peaty liquor within her mouth for several seconds before she swallows. Then, "I'd advise against getting advice from your predecessor in any case; it encourages people to compare you. Be bold, Olivya. Use her notes, absolutely-- no one likes someone who comes in and changes everything." Her nose wrinkles; she comes to this opinion honestly. "And pick some of her assistants to keep. But be firm: you are the weyrlingmaster, and if your weyrleaders have trusted you to take that position, they need to trust you in what you do, too. I'm not saying antagonise them," mostly, "but... confidence is the most important thing. If people believe you know exactly what you're doing, they'll trust you more." "Confidence has never been a weak spot for me," Olivya admits with the hint of dry humor, taking a sip of her own clear liquid while watching the other woman over the rim of the glass. After, she adds, "But I like to temper that with seeking advice where it can be found and offered. No reason to be reckless when you can be smart." She pauses, only a moment taken as she leans closer towards the bluerider. "I'm not sure that I can keep her assistants. One of them was up for the position, but he did not get it. And he's vowed since that he will not work for me; none of the other assistants have expressed that they will be joining him but if they do--." She's screwed? She doesn't say that. Quinlys' smug smile is an easy response to that admission, one she otherwise chooses not to reply to. Much more serious, and more pressing, is the need for assistants-- and for this, the bluerider's expression is rather less easy. "That's problematic," she agrees. "I'd talk to each of the others, one at a time, and try to bring them to your side. Highlight their importance: continuity for Fort, that kind of thing. That you want to learn from them, too." She taps one finger to her lips, then adds, "Humility sucks, but it could help in this case. The other one... he's a lost cause. Let him come back to you on his own terms, if he wants." Olivya nods, accepting the advice with an easiness that only proves her self-analysis only moments earlier. She doesn't seem to have any shame or hesitation in listening to what Quinlys will tell her. "And if they do choose to trade their knots in and return to the wings? If I'm left without any of Ebeny's previous assistants, what would you do?" she questions lightly, her gaze lingering on the bluerider. Quinlys hesitates over her answer, though meets Olivya's gaze squarely as she does so. "I'd ask my weyrleaders-- weyrleader in your case, I suppose-- for a list of recommended names. See if he can suggest likely people. Then I'd interview. At worst, I'd see if any of the other weyrs out there have an assistant or two to spare for a few months, but it's generally better to recruit local, especially in your position. And if short on hands even then, I'd ask to have the wings offer a rotation of weyrling mentors to offer a hand." "No offer to lend your own, if it comes to that?" teases Olivya to lighten the conversation for a moment, her suggestive smile playing over her lips briefly. "I'm sure I could find a way to reimburse you." But she doesn't press that, letting that eventuality slide away to point out, "I do not have very long to establish my assistants and team; Or to train new. As much as they are already going to be concerned about foreign influence on their weyrlings, I need trained assistants." The suggestiveness of that smile makes Quinlys smirk in response, but her reply is genuine and more inclined towards the serious: "I have two clutches in my care, and one of my assistants jumped ship at the last minute. I had a volunteer to help out, but... well, that didn't work out. I'd ask Ista, if I were you. You've said you've spoken to them already, so there's a relationship, and they've no weyrlings at present." "I am sorry to hear that," Olivya says simply for Quinlys' situation, inclining her chin lightly. "Ista did offer; I hope that I won't need to accept but if it comes to that-- Well, I am not without opportunity." She finishes off her own glass, almost as a gesture before she sets it, upside-down, on the table between them. "How are your weyrlings?" Quinlys' easy shrug suggests she's not all that concerned with her present situation-- or perhaps she's enough months in to it that it has become more or less normal. "Good," she says of Ista. "I don't know much of their training habits, but I'm sure they can't be too terrible." She drains her own glass, setting it down in matching orientation to Olivya's, as she adds, "They're coming along. The older group are learning to flame this month; the youngers are all about mating flights. A good time was had by all." Olivya only smiles, a curved, subtle thing, as Quinlys mirrors her gesture. She questions lightly, "Another for you, Weyrlingmaster?" Her fingers lift to twist her blonde curls behind her ear, revealing one side of her neck. "They are interesting months. You have a goldrider among your class, don't you?" A pause, before she admits what the bluerider likely already knows, but draws attention to it, "I've never trained a goldrider. We never had one, except Iesaryth, and then--. Is it so different than training other weyrlings?" "Yes," says Quinlys, promptly. "But I'll shout, this time." For emphasis, she lifts a hand in an attempt to wave over one of the barkeeps; that they're not presently doing table service seems irrelevant. "Mm," she agrees, still attempting to flag someone down. "It is and it isn't. The weyrwomen do all of the goldrider-specific training, of course, but... it changes the atmosphere, nonetheless. There's a difference. Iesaryth-- she and Aishani were part of the first class I assisted with. Aidavanth's the fourth queen... I suppose that says something about High Reaches' fortune with queens." Olivya lets Quinlys try, but after a time she suggests so easily to the bluerider, "We could always retire to your weyr for our next drink." She doesn't pick back up the thread of conversation, yet, not with the offer left between them. Quinlys' arm, slowly and deliberately, begins to drop back to the table. She's hesitant, though; there's something holding her back. "We could," she agrees. "And I'd like that." There is, however, an unspoken 'but' there, one that she doesn't seem to have been able to put into words, yet. "But for various reasons, I think we'd better stay here so I'm not tempted by your charms. Let me go get us some more drinks." Olivya doesn't seem upset to have struck out, even though she must not be used to it. Instead, she only accepts Quinlys' answer with a tip of her chin, before she offers her order to Quinlys, the Pernese equivalent of gin having occupied her clear glass. "When you return, you can tell me how you handle two clutches at a time, just in case Taeliyth rises soon," she adds. And she will keep the conversation to the professional, if friendly. This, Quinlys can do. She may even flirt outrageously-- but at the end, after some more talk, and some more drinks, it's back home alone for her. C'ris would be proud! |
Comments
Kaleidoscope (19:34, 25 December 2015 (PST)) said...
This was really fun! I enjoyed the advice and perspectives and addressing of the problems and experiences of each. Really neat!
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