Logs:What Are You In For?
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| RL Date: 5 November, 2014 |
| Who: Telavi, Rafevan |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A meeting in the storerooms does not end in violence. |
| Where: Central Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 3, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
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| It's snowy out there, boringly same-old-- but at least not snowy-- in here... at least, when it comes to weather; with rumors of possibly-Istan possibly-pirate possibly-southern treasure abounding, Telavi's been nosing around the stores. As one does. However, with the assistant headwoman actually having to get back to work, it cuts down on the assistant weyrlingmaster's gossip, and with a sigh she paces back along the aisle. And then kicks something, just because. Some people have--probably--more legitimate reasons for being down here than pirate treasure, but... Well, if one were to happen to stumble upon it, that's entirely different. Rafevan is among those wandering, shopping without purpose as he investigates the stores more thoroughly; and somehow, it's he who rounds the corner in time to see the woman kicking things. He lifts a brow, and then notes, "I'm sure that box deserved it mightily." Tela looks over, and then up, blue-today eyes narrowing as though she's considering whether he might deserve it now, too. He, the apprentice. "What are you in here for?" Not that this is prison. It's the kind of question that makes Rafe's expression shift into almost a smirk, one that shows off his dimples as he regards the woman. "I hadn't decided," he tells her then. "Are you going to fight me for it?" The things he doesn't want yet. Telavi just stares at him for a long moment, and then her mood breaks into a sunny laugh. "Oh yes," she says mock-gravely. "This thing you haven't decided upon, that I have no idea about, is suddenly so very important to me. It's a good thing I have choice of weapons." "My mother did try to warn me about dragonriders," is Rafevan's solemn response, almost convincing in that. Ceding already, he ducks his head in mock-deference. "Consider it a tithe to yourself, if it pleases you," he informs her then, dryly. "As I've come woefully underprepared for a duel. I'm not even sure where they bury the weaponry around here. I'd have better luck making my own than finding something, like as not." Her dimples show, at that, though Telavi leaves both mother and not-present tithe alone for now in favor of weapons. "Mmm, there's always a needle. I might even have a spare. Speaking of," Tela adds, "what is it with you and those poor weavers?" "Would you be willing to share?" Rafevan tilts his head, looking her up and down appraisingly. "I'd appreciate a blade on me before we tangle, having seen what you're willing to do to an uncooperative box." As for Weavers? His smile's a little more enigmatic to that, only a shake of his head to answer. "Trade secrets, unfortunately." "The spare, possibly. For the right price." Telavi then notes with quite the disappointed air, "For which such a facile answer would surely not suffice. Really. Where is the leaping to tell your side of the tale, I ask you." To that, Rafevan just hmphs, a surprisingly delicate sound for one laden with mockery. "I shall leave that dubious honor to my masters," he notes. "For they are much more knowledgeable on such matters than an apprentice who has been entirely uninvolved in any suspected hostilities." Which, perhaps, he does not specifically say is him. "Mmm." It has a knowing air, a not-taken-in air, but also an entertained air. Even so, "Then I shall leave you to it," Telavi assures him. "Good day, and may you find something more interesting than that for which you were looking." With that, and a brilliant smile, she moves to slip past him and be gone... without even attempting to kick his ankle along the way. "Good day, miss," Rafevan answers in parting, turning to watch her leave for a moment: beware the knife in the back, clearly. |
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