Logs:You're The Weyrleader
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2010 |
| Who: Gabrion, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Gabrion has a proposal. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 1, Turn 22 (Interval 10) |
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| Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest. Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention. A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind. Last night's turnover party meant a late start to the morning for most people, but it's heading towards lunchtime, now, and that means that those who /have/ to work are probably knuckling down to it. K'del's among these - no doubt he has plans for later in the holiday, but work can't get ignored entirely - nestled, now, in the chambers with a stack of paperwork and some leftover treats from last night. He looks a little worse for wear, and keeps rubbing at his forehead. Still on the wagon, Gabe looks positively chipper compared to some folks. He's gotten more than one dirty look, as a result, over the course of the morning; but he did win major brownie points by showing up to work in the infirmary bright and early and ready to go. Now he's been rewarded with a long lunch break. Tentative steps bring him to the doorway of the council chamber, and he pokes his head in to see if the weyrleader is here. Hesitant to interrupt, he stands there awkwardly in the doorway for an interminable few minutes, and announces his presence inadvertantly by sneezing into the sleeve of his tunic. Deep in his work, K'del evidently doesn't register Gabrion at all until the sound of that sneeze. It makes him jump, pause to hold his head - ow - and then manage a kind of half-hearted smiling grimace, the kind that says, 'yes, yes, self inflicted, I know.' Lifting his voice, albeit only slightly, he asks, "Can I help you there? Can come in, you know. Not going to, like, bite or anything." That draws a nervous grin out of Gabrion, and he does come in. "Hi," he says. "You look like you have a headache. Have you been drinking water? Kind of late for it, but it ought to help, even so." Unsolicited advice successfully delivered, he introduces himself. "I'm Gabrion. One of the healer apprentices?" His voice lifts, tentative. "Feel like I'm drowning in it," reports K'del, with another rueful little grin, though he's otherwise not too concerned about getting advice from another - younger - teenager. "It's better than it was. Just-- ugh. Too much last night, I guess. Whereas you look positively chirpy... Gabrion. Healer Apprentice." There's no other confirmation that he's aware of who the healer is, just that repetition. He does set down the hide he was flicking through, though, beckoning him further in. "You needed something?" Gabrion grins again, bashfully. "Yes, I - I have this idea that I wanted to talk to you about. But, if you're busy, I... I could come back another time." Nervous, he shifts his feet and stuffs his hands into his pockets. K'del starts to tip his head, then stops, and uses his hand again, waving it towards the empty seats around the council chamber. "Take a seat, any seat. None of 'em are comfortable, but they'll do. None of this is /that/ important... what's up?" Gabrion sits down on the edge of the nearest chair and smiles gratefully. "Okay, so I have a brother," he says, and launches into a long, invovled story. "His name's Seldon. You might have heard of him? He's one of the best healer's around this area for emergency first aid stuff. He has a really fast runner and a firelizard, and a riding posting to some of the 'Reaches holds - he's saved people's lives a bunch of times, there was this one guy that a tree fell on his leg and broke it in two places and the bone was sticking through the skin. He should have died but Seldon got to him in time and saved him. But you know, sometimes even a runner can't get there fast enough. So... so I was thinking... what if you had a healer who was a dragonrider? He could go anywhere there was someone sick or hurt, even places far away, even places a runner can't go." K'del sits in silence, resting his elbows on the edge of the table, his chin on his palms. Aside from a flicker of amusement at the length of Gabrion's spiel, and his example, he doesn't display too much of a reaction until the healer gets to the end of it. It's entirely possible that, hangover or no, he's playing with him, when he says, "So-- you think we should train some riders as healers." Beat. "Or that brother of yours, throw him on the sands?" Gabrion looks embarrassed. "Well, Seldon's kind of old to stand... he's almost 26. But uh. I'm only fifteen. So I thought, maybe I could try? Maybe. Both my parents are riders, so I might be able to impress a dragon. It's just - I talked to my mentor, and he doesn't think the people at the Healer Hall will like the idea. You know? But I thought, since you're the weyrleader, if you think it's a good idea, you could tell them that, and maybe they would go for it then." Such confidence he has in the power of rank. "I just - I don't want to try if they're going to just say No Way, because I want to be a healer. I /am/ a healer. But a dragonriding healer would be really useful. ...and there's no Thread," he tacks on hastily. K'del's eyes gleam: oh yes, he really was - is? - teasing the teen. The other teen, the one that isn't him. He softens that expression, though, in the wake of Gabrion's embarrassment, and the rambling explanation that follows. "Flattered you think I have such power," he says, with a genuinely rueful note to his voice. His fingers curl around the edges of one of the papers in front of him as he continues, "Ista's just started pushing their riders into doing non-rider work, have you heard? Making use of previous skills." He sounds thoughtful, trailing off towards vague, then hurriedly returns his attention back to Gabrion wholly. "You're weyrborn; you've every right to stand. /I/ think it's a good idea: reckon there's merit to it. So." He tips his head forward. "You want to stand, give it a try, go for it. Can't /make/ your craft keep you on, but I can put in a good word, see if it'll help." "I figure they'll probably listen to you," Gabe says. "I mean, you're the /weyrleader/. Or at least maybe they'd listen to the Weyrwoman, but I didn't want to talk to her. If I caught her in a bad mood she'd squash me like a bug." He grins briefly. "So, maybe I should try? I just... it would suck if they said no in the end, and kicked me out." He bites his lip, torn. K'del's slightly bitter laugh can't possibly have anything to do with Gabrion, or even the healer craft as a whole; it /is/ possible it has something to do with Tiriana, and her being deemed more powerful than him, but it's more likely something else again. Something he doesn't explain. "She would at that," he agrees, sounding thoughtful. Then, "How 'bout I put a proposal forward to the crafts about leaving the option open for riders who'd like to take up their training again. Then it's not about /you/ specifically, but a general thing. Would that help?" Gabrion looks immensely relieved. "Oh - yeah," he says gratefully. "That would be awesome. That way it's not about if I'm good enough or whatever... I mean, I got two distinctions in the end of year exams, but I had failed one last summer, so you know, I'm not the best ever apprentice or whatever. But," and he's firm about this, "I know I can do it. It just depends if I can impress a dragon. And maybe not. Then the whole thing's moot, right? But yeah. Do you think if you ask them, they'll tell you an answer before the hatching?" "And, actually, makes a lot of sense for people who aren't you. I mean, probably. There's heaps of former crafters around, and wouldn't it make more sense to /use/ their abilities, too?" K'del sounds musing, off on a tangent as he says this. Pausing, thoughtfully, he then adds, "Don't see why not. I'll draft something up today, get it out to them soon as I can. In the meantime... you've got permission to stand, to call yourself a candidate if you want. Regardless, though, your duties are in the infirmary, same as ever. That won't change unless you Impress." Gabrion beams. "Okay. Wow. Thanks! That's really great. You're awesome," he says enthusiastically. Then, he thinks of something else. "Oh, I've got a twin brother. So he's my age." Good that he explained that. "Gevran. Can he be a candidate, too, if he wants? He's not a crafter, so he doesn't even have my problem." K'del looks pleased. Well, after all, it's probably not every day that he gets such praise. "Glad I could help," he assures Gabrion, cheerfully. "I'll let you know, soon as I hear from them." There's a momentarily pause, then, before he adds, "Don't see why he couldn't be. But. Get him to come see me himself? Prefer to actually have /met/ people I'm allowing near Cadejoth's eggs." "Okay. I'll tell him," Gabe says, grinning. "Oh, just so you know? Our mom's probably going to throw a giant fit if either of us stands. But like you said. We have the right. ...right?" Just making sure, he is. K'del makes a face. "Giant fit aimed at me? Shells, hope not." But it's not a lingering face, not one that seems to /actually/ give him pause. "But: right. You've got the right. Don't see why you shouldn't-- anyway. Interval. Not like you're going to be risking your lives all the time, or whatever, even if you do Impress." Gabrion makes a wry face. "No, but try telling her that. We had this other brother, see, he died before we were born. Between training accident. So... Mom's kind of, uh..." He twirls his finger near his temple: loopy. K'del opens his mouth a little ways: oh. He looks-- briefly thoughtful, maybe even concerned. Ultimately, though, he nods. "Hard thing for a mother to deal with, I guess. Still. Got no problem reminding her that you've the right, if it comes to that." "Awesome," Gabe says, and flashes another grin. "Okay. Thanks! I better go get some lunch, so I'm not late getting back to work." Remembering K'del's headache, he advises, "If you need an analgesic, they're handing them out in the infirmary." Like candy, no doubt. Except not as good-tasting. "See you around, Gabrion," says K'del, with a bob of the head that he almost certainly regrets a moment later, one hand lifting to rub at his temples. "Ah. Yes. Thanks... may need to do that." Beat. Ruefully, "How /embarrassing/." Gabrion gives K'del a cheerful wave and bounces hurriedly out of the room, to go find food and his brother, in that order. |
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