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Logs:Changes on the Horizon

2016-03-15T03:59:20Z

Alysce: Created page with "{{Log |who=Quint, Alysce |what=Quint and Alysce have a pleasant conversation about the future. |where=Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=7 |mont..."

{{Log
|who=Quint, Alysce
|what=Quint and Alysce have a pleasant conversation about the future.
|where=Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=7
|month=4
|turn=40
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2016.03.13
|quote=Yay, staying in small rooms in remote holds where everyone is married to their cousin
|mentions=Quinlys, Ryneton
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon quint.jpg, Icon alysce challenging.jpg,
|log=It's nearing the end of dinner, the noise of which is subsiding into quieter chatter as most of the weyrfolk depart for other locales. Still, it's not exactly the best place for concentration, and yet Quint has staked out a table, the half-eaten remnants of a meal rapidly cooling, while he bends over a hide in attentive focus.

Alysce is late for dinner, that much is clear. Probably that is why she is flirting with one of the young bakers who is currently putting away food; or well, he ''was'' until she apparently convinced him to stop and make a plate up for her instead. With a tunic of harper blue hanging overly large on her slight frame, she also wears a flirtatious smile as she chats away with the baker, though she seems to forget about him soon enough once he's handed over the plate and she's turned away from the serving table. Instead, her gaze catches on Quint and ''he'' is the one who gets her full attention as she crosses the cavern to claim the chair opposite from him with a greeting of: "So, I ''just'' heard that the Weyrlingmaster had a baby. Do you know her?"

Despite the Journeyman's apparent non-attention, the first thing Quint says to his apprentice, in lieu of answering her, is: "I imagine I ought to be impressed that you are putting your skills to use, even if it's in service of your stomach rather than the craft."

"I would think you'd have learned by now that everything I do is in service to me," Alysce counters back easily and without a hint of shame for the statement. She's shameless, if you will, just as the smile on her lips turns into a slow smirk as she tears a piece of bread to slide into her mouth.

Quint's finger drops to the hide, as if to mark his place, while his gaze flickers up towards Alysce. "Not to ''me''?" he asks, with a tilt of head, nothing light about the question.

That question only receives the wrinkle of Alysce's nose, an exaggerated gesture for Quint's benefit before she tosses black hair over her shoulder. "You know, if you ever wanted me to do anything for you, you just have to ''ask''," she finally answers dismissively.

The dismissive response earns a neutral one in turn, Quint's gaze dropping back to his hide. "Surely you've been with me long enough to know my mind, that I needn't?" He's silent for a moment or two. "I'll be writing a recommendation that Ryneton be posted under another Journeyman shortly; one who can better coach his vocal abilities."

Surprise widens Alysce's eyes, her brows dragging up as her gaze only sharpens on Quint at that information. And then she's frowning, her words a snap as she questions, almost accusingly, "Why?"

Quint's tone, by contrast, remains unchanged, his gaze unwavering from the hide in front of him. "Because he is better served with a Journeyman who can best bring forth his talents."

"And why have you decided this ''now'', Quint?" Alysce presses in question, a tone of disbelief making her words dry as she stares across the table at her Journeyman. "Are you going to try to send me away next? I'm sure you'll have a good excuse. I've been an apprentice too long, I should focus on making my next rank. Or, well. You tell me."

"He's been with me for a turn and a half. Long enough for me to impart what wisdom I can bestow on him." Once more, Quint presses a finger to the hide as if momentarily pausing his focus to lift his gaze to Alysce. He's silent for a moment after she speaks. As is his way, he doesn't answer, not directly, but with a question of his own: "How long have you been with me, Alysce?"

Alysce doesn't answer that question; no, there's a soft huff and another toss of her hair as she meets Quint's gaze. Instead, she replies accusingly, "And you're doing this ''now''. And I ''do'' know you well enough to know your mind, Quint, and I think you're scared of losing anyone else. So you're going to try to send us away."

Even if Alysce doesn't answer that, Quint does it for her: "Near enough to two Turns as to make no difference," he muses. His head tips, exhaling a breath. "And you lash out at the slightest threat," he murmurs, near inaudible. "But no, I'm not sending you away. With Ryneton gone you'll need to step up in your duties." The Journeyman's gaze settles on his apprentices. "I'll expect ''more'' of you."

"You could always send for the Hall to replace him with another apprentice. I am sure they will be eager enough to give you someone else to train," Alysce suggests instead, and despite his assurances for not sending her away, the young woman hasn't quite relaxed. She still holds her spine straight, almost as if ready to meet a challenge. "But I ''have'' been your only apprentice before; I know what you'll need me to do."

"Perhaps I will," Quint allows, after a tapping of fingers against the hide. "There were several promising promotions at Turnover." He gives a nod, and a glimmer of a smile at that last. "Perhaps you do." He carefully begins to stack the hides, with the reverence given to precious material. "I'll need to you travel to the Hall in the next seven or so -- deliver my request regarding Ryneton -- and meet discreetly with some of the senior apprentices. It can't hurt to have a sense of what we may end up with, no?"

If this is already a test, Alysce might get a low grade, because her first reaction is to wince in dread at that request. Her fingers resume tearing at bread, but with a new enthusiasm before she finally drags out, "Fine. Though, I think your defintion of discreet and ''my'' definition of discreet are probably going to be different, you know."

Sharp blue eyes certainly don't miss that wince, though there's no sense of satisfaction from Quint at it. "As long as you don't blurt out, 'My Journeyman wishes to know if you and I can get along without tearing each other's hair out', I should think it sufficiently discrete enough. I can't imagine I am the only Journeyman -- or Master -- inquiring." A beat, and then: "We all must do things we abhor in the name of our craft, now and then, whether it's facing a pack of ambitious teenagers, or," with a tilt of his head, "Chancing the possibility of running into our parents."

Alysce pointedly tears a piece of her bread at Quint's words, but she only glances up at him with a slightly petulant look as she says, "I said I would do it. I will. But I don't give a runnershit about the craft, Quint, just to be clear. I am doing it for ''you''. Because I do use my skills for you, too." That seems to come with a more challenging tip of her chin again, as she adds, "Besides, you're the one who is going to have to deal with my parents after I tell them that I am nowhere near ready to test for Journeyman."

Quint is silent again, longer this time, as he studies his apprentice. There's definitely flickers of reactions as she speaks, passing swiftly enough to be difficult to identify, and ending in an exhale of breath. He gives a nod, as if unsurprised -- and ''unworried'', too. "Indeed I will," of her parents and his impending discussion. "That I look forward to," he says with a blandness that might, oddly, be truthful.

Her nose wrinkles again in response to Quint's reaction, but Alysce doesn't press the conversation further. Instead, as she finally takes another bite of her meal, she reverts back to her original question to ask with a definite tone of gossip, "So, do you know her? They are saying that it's a good thing it will be a while until there are weyrlings again, but there is ''talk'' about what she'll be like with the next group--."

Quint gives a wordless nod by way of answer, though instead of asking further about the gossip, he says: "I'm more curious about ''your'' interest. She isn't the first -- nor the last -- dragonrider to give birth. Or is there a specific reason you're interested in the Weyrlingmaster?"

"It might matter, to the next group of weyrlings," Alysce answers lightly, almost teasing in that answer as she flashes a smile at Quint. But then she seems to catch herself on a thought, a softly apologetic expression sliding briefly through her features before she rolls a shoulder. "I don't care beyond what I've heard. I was just curious. And there's been a sad lack of gossip lately; the Weyr is never as interesting as the rest of Pern makes it seem."

"That is the way of all things," Quint says, easily. "After you return from the Hall, you'll join me on a round of Journeying through some of the nearer holdings after we reshuffle the teaching roster. It's time we did some more advanced training in gossip -- how it is used, and how it can be abused. The Weyr is central to many things, but the effect of a lone gossip passing through a remote hold can never be underestimated. Like you," with a twitch of lips, "Those that are isolated find interest in even the smallest tidbit."

"Yay, staying in small rooms in remote holds where everyone is married to their cousin," enthuses Alysce dryly for that, though there is a hint of smile on her lips, buried there for some reason. "Just how I wanted to spend the ''warm'' months."

Quint makes a noise that might be disapproval, though it isn't voiced aloud. "Perhaps the lack of amenities will give you a greater appreciation for what you have here. Be thankful that it ''will'' be the warmer months. The path to Ogren requires some nights under the stars."

"And if I suggest getting a ride via dragonback, you are going to lecture me about it, aren't you," isn't really a question as Alysce waves her fork in a vague gesturing circle before taking another bite of her meal.

"If you flit in on a dragon, what will you talk to the local farmers about? How nice their lands looked from above?" Quint, apparently, takes her rhetorical question as requiring a not-so-rhetorical lecture. "Or, having traveled through their lands, will you have an understanding of the hardships and successes they've had this past Turn? Sympathy -- ''empathy'' -- is worth a thousand words of prose."

"And who is going to have sympathy for having to sleep on the ground or my feet?" Alysce tosses back shamelessly but without real effort, much like she knows she is already fighting a losing battle. Or not really fighting it at all.

"The very holders who will give up their own beds for you to sleep in," Quint says, without a pause, though with a knowing grin, now. He begins to collect his dishes, carefully tucking the hides under his arm. "First things first. Pack for at least three days at the Hall, mm? I'll arrange a ride for you."

Lightly, ''cockily'', Alysce assures her Journeyman with a smirk, "I can get my own ride to the Hall, you know." Again, there's a little hair flip as she meets Quint's gaze with humored black eyes.

"Nevertheless," Quint replies, in a tone that might -- for him -- be sharp, along with a look to make sure he has his apprentice's agreement. "I'll arrange it."

"Fine, whatever you say. Three days, and then you want me back?" Alysce questions, seeking confirmation. "Or if it takes longer--?"

"Then I've taught you poorly, and we shall both wear the consequences," her Journeyman replies with a tone that might well be amused. Pushing to his feet, Quint carries his dishes with him as he begins to step away. "Good evening, apprentice," the formal address given easily in the company of the Weyr's residents.

A low laugh catches in Alysce's throat as she lifts her gaze under the fan of lashes, sliding up to still meet Quint's as she remains seated with her meal. "I will have a good night, but I hope you do too, Quint," is the way she choose to phrase her own, less formal goodbye.
|Categories=Crafter Logs
}}

Logs:More than Mediocre

2015-12-24T16:49:31Z

Alysce: Created page with "{{Log |who=Quint, Alysce |what=Quint's going to the Hall for a few days; Alysce isn't. |where=Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=16 |month=8 |tu..."

{{Log
|who=Quint, Alysce
|what=Quint's going to the Hall for a few days; Alysce isn't.
|where=Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=16
|month=8
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.12.23
|quote="So the extent of your plan is to follow me all over Pern, and never seek anything greater?"
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon quint airquotes.jpg, Icon alysce.jpg,
|log=Alysce has been a good apprentice, lately, but one has to attribute that to the plague, unfortunately. Without gathers to run off to and with dragonriders unable to ferry her around at her request, she's been confined to the Weyr. Her energy has finally, eventually spilled over into her work, producing many pieces of music even if they are predictable and easy works. Her ability to write lyrics has improved with the practice, however, and it seems to be what she's doing now: her dark head is bent over a piece of hide, ink dripping from the end of her quill as she hovers over the next word as she remains curled up in one of those fuzzy armchairs even as evening draws on High Reaches and many gather in Snowasis to drink. She isn't even paying attention to one of the handsome smith apprentices talking with his Journeyman nearby.

Quint, too, has been ''different'' since the plague began, though his has a slightly different reason: one that Alysce is likely to guess, given she met his mother and sister while they were posted at Boll Hold. Ten days ago he arrived adragonback from Boll along with a subdued-by-comparison Gizzy, and ''without'' his mother. Coincidentally, in the last seven he's been assigning more in-class teaching to Alysce and sometimes even leaving her alone -- although only with the older children. He's encouraging of Alysce's work, though there's been no pieces of hers yet that he let her play with an audience other than himself or occasionally Ryneton. He's wearing his typical harper colors, striding in with familiar grace, gaze sweeping the room and taking note of Alysce's presence, steps slowing as he notices where her attention is -- and is ''not''. With a twist of lips, he alters his path to take him towards the apprentice, choosing the seat across from hers and slipping into it, wordlessly reclining in a picture of repose.

There is a sudden flurry of Alysce's quill. A line gets viciously drawn through a word a few stanzas before her current, replaced in a quick scrawl before she returns to her current verse to finish it with another jotted word. The whole hide is like that; it would be easier if she were to use a sand table, but cost doesn't seem to have factored in, yet. It's only after she finishes that her gaze draws up to Quintus, as if she knew he were there before she looks. "You'll have to look this over when I'm done," she tells him as a greeting. "I don't really have any music in mind to set it to. You probably have something I could use." Well, she hasn't changed completely~~

"I will," the Journeyman allows with an ease that suggests she needn't even ask. "I might have something," Quint allows, before he amends, "It's a lovely day outside, and you're ''inside'', writing. Has Ryneton been getting to you again? You know I keep telling you you oughn't try and compete with him."
"So are you," Alysce counters teasingly, the end of her quill lifted to her lips in a habitual gesture to draw attention there. "But if I invited you out for a drink, you'd just say no, anyways." It seems for a moment as if she won't address the subject of Ryneton, but then she rolls a shoulder upwards in a small shrug. "He's not. He is what he is, right? Good. Special."

"I haven't your," Quint gestures expressively towards his apprentice, "''Youth,''" with a quirk of lips. The slight shift of posture suggests a positive answer to her guess about his potential acceptance of drinks. "Ask me again at Turnover. One ought to make an exception then, if any time." His fingers tap lightly against the arm of the chair while blue eyes consider Alysce. "He has natural talent," the older harper allows. "But you can't fault that he still works hard. Have you heard from your parents?" Since the plague, presumably.

"They sent word. They are alive. Father's writing a new ballad about the loss, after I am sure he spent the whole of it isolated in his rooms," replies Alysce dryly, rolling her eyes as she lets the hide and then pen fall into her lap. "The perks of being important, isn't it?" For a moment, her dark eyes show something bitter, jaded before she turns away from Quint's lighter eyes to finally appreciate the smith there. That is who she watches when she adds carelessly, "I know he works hard. It doesn't change anything. If anything, it makes it worse."

"That sounds like the safest course of action," is Quint's easy response, head tipping briefly as he continues to study his apprentice. "If one is not in a position to contribute, one is better off not making it worse, no?" Straighten, he leans forward, marginally. "I'm heading back to the Hall for a few days, tomorrow. You should come with me, let them know you're ok in person." He notices the cut away of her gaze, but he doesn't follow it. "People are complicated," he says in an quiet undertone, instead, not necessarily in defense of her father. "You and he... relationships are difficult. Your father is still alive, and you still have an opportunity to change that relationship."

"No." The single word cracks slightly, and Alysce still can't meet Quint's gaze as she answers it so quickly despite his own recent loss. But then she does look back, complete with tossing her hair over her shoulder as she swings her attention back to her Journeyman with a smile. "No, take Ryneton. Show off your precious, talented apprentice. If they wanted to see me--." That smile disappears as she presses her lips together into a tight line. "If you want to take me anywhere, you can take me to the next gather. Now that Healer has declared the plague over, I'm sure that will be any day now."

There's a slight thinning of lips, practically a scowl in the naturally cheerful default expression of Quint's. "I'm not ''asking'' Ryneton. I'm asking ''you''." His fingers still, gaze meeting hers. "Would you have preferred to lose him?" He deliberately avoids talk of a gather, focusing on the topic at hand.

"I don't care, Quint," Alysce replies with practiced carelessness, shrugging up her shoulder lightly. "I'm not going." Her chin tilts stubbornly, meeting her Journeyman's displeasure with the attitude of apparent disinterest that only a teenager can pull off. But she adds, just to drive her own point home, "Do you want to know ''who'' sent word? My father's apprentice. Not my father, not my mother. Two stupid lines, 'Master Allent is alive and well. Your mother and her family are as well.'"

Quint's gaze goes ceiling-wards. "So," he muses, thoughtfully, "You're going to sit here at High Reaches Weyr ''pouting'', instead of taking the opportunity to remind the powers that be at the Hall that you exist, that you are Master Allent's daughter, and that, some Turnover, they ought to recall your name for promotion?" He tilts his head, as gaze drops again. "That seems counter-productive. But," with a twist of lips, "What do I know?"
Alysce's dark eyes narrow at him but her chin still holds that stubborn tilt as she answers dryly, "Yes. Yes, I am." Her gaze flicks away as well, but when it returns to him, she seems to have forgotten to keep glaring. Instead, she lets out a soft breath. "I honestly don't care, Quint, if I ever get promoted. I'm happy being your apprentice. And ''especially'' since I know it will annoy ''him'' if I don't walk the tables until well past the normal age."

"So the extent of your plan is to follow me all over Pern, and never seek anything greater?" Quint's lips purse, before he leans forward: is voice is soft, with the intention that it doesn't carry behind the pair of them. "Aiming for mediocrity is not what I'd expect out of an apprentice of mine. Doing so in some futile attempt to gain the attention of your father is sabotaging your own future to spite someone that might not ever even notice. Alysce," his gaze is serious, expression intently interested in the response, "Don't you want to one day be your own woman? Have postings of your ''own''?"

"What's so wrong with that?" Alysce questions defensively in counter of Quint's own question, her arms moving to cross her chest as she leans ''back'' in her chair in the same defensive posture rather than leaning forward to be closer. "We both know that I ''am'' mediocre. Shit, I don't ''want'' a posting of my own. It'd be inane and boring and I would be horrible at it, anyways." A pause, and her dark eyes fall over the journeyman, looking for ''something'' as she adds: "Besides. I ''like'' you. What's so wrong with following you?"

Quint holds her gaze, just as he holds his posture and the timbre of his voice is unchanged, determined, yet soft: "Because I don't want to see you spend Turns of your life on something if it's not what you want. Especially when I think you could be ''more'' than ''mediocre'', if you ''wanted'' to be." Something ripples briefly across the Journeyman's expression at her addition, though his voice is unchanged as he answers her question with another of his own: "Do you think of yourself as a harper?"

Quint's words only evoke more stubbornness in Alysce, her lips tightening. It's only shocked away by the question, replaced with a flicker of surprise as she asks, "What? Of course I am a harper. I have the knot and everything."

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Quint counters: "The knot is merely a knot; it doesn't represent who you ''are''. The knot can be discarded. What is in here," he taps fingers against his chest, "Less readily." A beat. "If you didn't have the knot, how would you introduce yourselves to people? How would you define ''Alysce''?"

"Are you going to take my knot away, Quint? Is that it? Do you not ''want'' me as an apprentice anymore, now that you have Ryneton?" is how Alysce answers, a sharp edge to her words and defensive again despite his soft tone. "It doesn't matter--. I am ''Alysce''. But there's no craft for that, and I wouldn't want to be a ''Holder'' or have to be bound to a dragon, so."

"That's not what I said," Quint corrects, firmly and quickly. He gestures towards the hides, "You've been writing a lot, lately. If you're not going to come with me to the Hall, you have an assignment while I'm gone. I want you to write a song that expresses who Alysce, the ''person'', not the ''harper'', is. I expect you to be forthright. I don't want you to write what you think I want to hear. I want the ''truth''."

It's not often that Alysce agrees to extra work without a fight, but apparently stuck between the choice of the Hall or the assignment, the apprentice drawls out a, "Fine, then." Her teeth, however, worry at her bottom lip as she eyes Quintus, thoughtful. She finally asks, "Why ''are'' you going to the Hall? You're not-- asking for a different post or apprentice, are you?"

If her Journeyman is disappointed by the decision, it isn't visible in his expression. Quint, being a harper after all, merely smiles enigmatically at her question. "If you were coming, you'd find out. You've made your choice, Alysce." He pushes to his feet. "I'll discuss with the other Journeymen, you'll be assigned a greater share of classes while I'm gone." To keep her busy, presumably.

"Sometimes, you're an asshole, Quint," Alysce replies dryly, but not without a depth of underlying affection for the man that makes the statement pointless. She doesn't try to pursue answers that she knows she's not getting, instead lifting her gaze to follow him as he stands. "If they need me. There are enough of them to handle the workload without you ''or'' me, and I might just get in the way."

"Indeed," Quint agrees, with barely a pause, even grinning at her. "Don't let that get around, though." He makes a clucking sound as he stoops to press a hand onto Alysce's shoulder. "It's as much about your own learning as ''need''. At the very least, you should step in for me to make ''me'' feel less expendable," he says, with a quirk of lips.

Alysce's fingers lift to brush over Quint's hand, as long as its there, prolonging the contact as she cranes to look up at him with a brief smile of her own. "Well, then, hurry back before they notice that you're expendable," she counters instead.

"I will." Quint lingers a moment longer, gaze on his apprentice. "Would you -- check in on Gizzy while I'm gone? She's still settling in to things here -- as much as taking the same job provides continuity, she doesn't know anyone here aside from you and me."

"Of course," promises Alysce sincerely, growing serious for the moment as she straightens under that gaze. "I'll make sure to pop in every day while you're gone. Maybe get her to go out and meet the locals with me." That last is offered with a reassuring smile.

"You're a good girl. Thank you." Quint's fingers squeeze briefly against her shoulder again before his hand drops away. If he's worried about what his apprentice's interpretation of ''meet the locals'' means, he's probably confident enough in his sister's ability to handle herself not to comment. "I'll catch you up when I'm back from the Hall. Good night, Alysce."

"G'night," Alysce says, only a touch of wistfulness as his fingers fall away and it's clear that good night is all she's getting. Her gaze slides briefly to the smith apprentice again, instead.
}}

User:Alysce

2015-11-08T01:55:25Z

Alysce: Redirected page to Alysce

#REDIRECT [[Alysce]]

Logs:Speaking of Fate

2015-11-08T01:30:39Z

Alysce: Created page with "{{Log |who=Quint, Silva, Alysce, N'klas |what=Quint meets some weyrlings and Alysce is inappropriate. |where=Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=1..."

{{Log
|who=Quint, Silva, Alysce, N'klas
|what=Quint meets some weyrlings and Alysce is inappropriate.
|where=Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=15
|month=3
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.11.07
|quote="I am not lonely! I have a ''dragon!''"
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon quint.jpg, Icon silva.jpg, Icon alysce amused.jpg, Icon n'klas huh.png,
|desc=Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge
bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever
so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and
surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but
less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's
grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained
meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns,
including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to
the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the
southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass
through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of
redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the
very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake,
there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl,
standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.

A layer of gray clouds hangs oppressively around the spires. The air is
humid and cool, but there is no snowfall today.
|log=It's cold but, thankfully, neither snowing or raining. Quint is dressed in a warm coat, standing at the entrance to the dragon infirmary where Silva -- in contrast -- is clothed but also wet, and Zaisyreth is in the warm dragon bath. Quint has the gaze of one long considering and patient, watching the weyrling. If he's perturbed by Silva's answer, or lack thereof, it doesn't seem to ruffle the harper. "Well." He takes in the exchange with a twitch of lips. "He is." There's a brief pause, tone gentling a bit, "If you want to talk to someone, I'm a very good listener. And I know how awkward it can be to adjust to a Weyr -- if not a ''dragon'', mind. But," with a rueful grin. "Perhaps not when you're half-cold, mm? Maybe you ought to just give up and get in."

Silva's just a whirl of emotions today, from annoyed, to aghast, to happy, and now her eyes begin to well up with tears. The icy wind isn't kind to this new set of moisture. Even as she tries to wipe her tears away she'll throw herself at Quint and attempt to wrap him in a fierce hug. "Thank you so much, you're ''so'' nice."

It is likely that someone has ''told'' Alysce the direction that Quint has gone, because she can't so often pop up in his vicinity without some sort of help or direction. Yet, she is ''his'' apprentice, and maybe that comes with some innate inner compass to where her Journeyman is. She is in a dress, obviously made for a gather, a dark red that hugs her breasts and waist and drops in perfectly gathered folds. Luckily, a cloak covers the rather low cut of the dress, protecting the apprentice against the cold of High Reaches until she finds somewhere warmer. "Quint," she greets the Journeyman's back, but catching that hug--. There is a fierce draw of the young woman's brow upwards as she stares from behind them both.

Khajith ''romps'' in the direction of said infirmary and, more to the point, said bath; he's not even as long as Quint is tall, yet, but he has ''momentum''. And he's coming more or less from behind Alysce, as though there's beginning to be a line that he just can't wait to cut. While his rider's trudging that way as well, angling from the barracks, it'll take him substantially longer to truly arrive. N'klas yawns, and into his hand no less-- if more to trap that escaping warmth than anything like politeness.

As if it isn't awkward enough to be the target of a young girl's grateful hug, Quint's apprentice just ''has'' to show up right about then. Still, the Journeyman is gracious enough about it, and it seems it's probably not the first time he's been on the receipt of such a thing, patting Silva's back briefly. "Well, I do try my best," he observes, with a grin, before he expertly seeks to disentangle himself from the hug. "Oughn't let your Zaisyreth get jealous now though, hm?" Alysce's greeting turns his head, brow rippling momentarily in reaction to her outfit, no doubt. "Alysce--" whatever he was going to say is cut off by the sight of a ''romping'' blue of all things, bemused expression reflecting his reaction more clearly than words can articulate.

It takes a little bit to disengage Silva, she's showing her ''gratitude'' gosh darn it. Take her being non-critical for a bit. But then there is N'klas and Silva is going to instantly control herself. Patting her hair, only to remember that she looks so not-her-best she sighs dramatically. "Zaisyreth ''never'' gets jealous. He's like the best, because he is." Zaisyreth speaks for himself yo. Moving over in the water he'll even make room for Khajith to jump on him, the movement sending water slashing over the size. "N'klas, like, Quint says we should get INTO the water to help them bathe, because, like, then it wouldn't be so cold."

Alysce's expression only grows sharper the longer Silva takes to disengage, but it's to Quint that she carelessly, dismissively says, "Well, I came to ask if you wanted to go to a gather, but ''clearly'' you have your hands full here." She turns on a heel sharply, ready to flounce off in a dramatic exit that only a dramatic young woman in a snit could make. But the approach of the young blue dragon has gone unnoticed, and she isn't prepared for Khajith there before she's tripping over him and landing on her knees. "Shit, shit shells." Her gaze lifts to the dragon, then Silva and Quint, and then finally finds N'klas and apologizes, "Faranth, I'm sorry. Is he--?"

A not-yet-large blue who slows, casting an eye over the man-- he ''pushes'' towards his thoughts, not words but a ''there''-ness, crisp and invigorating as saltwater if he's perceived at all-- and perhaps it's that distraction as much as youthful gawkiness or girlish flouncing that leads to such an unexpected encounter. No joining Zaisyreth ''yet'', not when Khajith's flicking his overlong tail free of Alysce with a hiss and circling around to inspect it and see if it's all right. Only, when he does that, his tail keeps ''escaping''. "Aw, Khaj," Nik grumbles. To the girl, the girl with the cloak, "He'll survive. Shells. At least it wasn't your wing. Gotta watch ''out'' for people, I keep ''telling'' you."

"It sounds it," Quint is possibly humoring Silva, at least until she releases him, except that the harper's sentiment seems genuine for all that, glancing between the pair of blues with equal parts interest and bemusement. "You're very lucky," is what he murmurs, finally, low enough to be meant only for her. While Silva shares with her fellow weyrling, Quint's gaze goes to Alysce, amusement warring with surprise at his apprentice's reaction. "Now, Alysce--" he begins, at least until her ungainly trip. He manages not to laugh, to his credit, taking a step in her direction with the intention of assisting her, gaze on N'klas curious more than anything as he does so.

"Yes." That is quiet enough too, after her spill of words, it can easily get lost. But now she has an OBJECTIVE. While the girl, who Silva will only spare a SLIGHT judgmental look for, has her run in with the blue, the weyrling is encouraging Zaisyreth up and out of the water. "Oh, come on. You're done enough. We'll come back tomorrow!" When it's a little warmer! Or something. And with a cheerful wave the pair are off again.

"I'm fine," Alysce murmurs firmly to her Journeyman, but she doesn't reject the help he offers and she lingers near even once she's gotten back to her feet with his help. "I'll just have to change." That sounds softly frustrated though the apprentice doesn't linger over it as she exhales a sigh instead and her own gaze lingers on N'klas as well. The slide of her gaze is likely more appreciative than Quint's though, and it comes paired with a crooked, slow smile. "I'm glad. I think I owe him something, though. What does he like?"

N'klas can spare a wave back to Silva, cheeks reddened with more than the cold; Khajith swings his head over to scent the paler blue as he passes, then hunkers low enough to half-circle Nik and lean against his ribs, eyeing the remaining humans with a quick-whirling gaze. Belatedly, "You sure?" to Alysce and her fineness; to Quint, "Sorry, sir." And then he just has eyes for Alysce. "Ah." The next mutter's more under his breath, but it's his dragon who answers, in a youthful rumble. He doesn't turn her down. Instead, running a hand through what used to be a forelock and now is just air, "Shiny things are good."

Quint's hand remains steady under Alysce's arm -- at least until he's assured she's stable enough -- after which his hand drops down and into the warmth of his coat. "Perhaps it's fate's way of telling you the gather isn't the place to be, today?" he suggests, wryly, in response to her notion of changing. The harper's blue eyes track Silva and her dragon's departure, with a flicker of a smile and a wordless nod in her wake. It seems only natural that the harper's gaze should come rest on N'klas, again, after that. The apology earns an easy dismissal: "They're growing. Still getting used to the their bodies, as I understand it?" he regards Khajith, now.

A laugh sparks in Alysce's black gaze as she lifts it to Quint, answering him with a challenging, "Are you speaking for fate now, Harper?" That same amusement is still held in her gaze when it slides back to N'klas, and there is a soft hint of flirtation in her tone as she adds, "Shiny. That I can do. Promise." Her own fingers lift to black hair, sliding through it as she twists it from one shoulder to the other.

"That they are," N'klas says with relief, once he's blinked and can notice the journeyman again; Khajith's kept his wings furled since that first run-in, their colors hidden, but his eyes ''gleam''. He ''leans''. His young rider has a rueful cast to his mouth, fingers curving as though to touch black hair or seawater-hued hide but in the end addressing neither. "Which Gather?" he asks. "It's going to be a while."

"Who can say," Quint says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Fate is, after all, a fickle and changeable mistress." He takes a moment to regard both apprentice and weyrling, listening to their conversation for a beat, before he says, "If you'll excuse me. I'll leave you two to it." With a nod that encompasses the pair of them, he turns to resume his original course for the main caverns.

"Mm, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Let you know what fate had in store," Alysce replies in a murmur, a brow curving upwards briefly for him. Her gaze follows Quint for a long moment, forgetting about N'klas for the time, but the apprentice does not follow the Journeyman. But then all of the bright weight of her attention is back on N'klas with a smile. "Farmcraft. Sounds boring, but I need to get out of the Weyr and to somewhere ''warm''." A pause. "Faranth, I forgot-- You must feel a lot more trapped. You can't even drink."

"Sir," is N'klas' farewell. He doesn't vanish while Alysce looks after Quint that way, doesn't freeze while the world goes on around him for that time; when she looks back, he's got a bit of a smirk, and that brightness doesn't dazzle quite so much as before. Which isn't to say that it ''doesn't''. "Nah," he says easily. "We get one. ''One'', with dinner, and count ourselves lucky. Don't worry, you weren't rubbing it in... except for the warm part."

"One," Alysce repeats, aghast by it, but her humor plays easily on the single word as well. "One drink while you have to remain cold and miserable and ''alone''. Can't even get yourself warmed up in the traditional way." The suggestiveness of her words is enough to imply what ''traditional'' way she means even if her smirk didn't. "I would die."

Khajith's still here. Still here, and ''looking'' at Alysce and her cloak and her damp knees. N'klas scratches his throat absently, but that doesn't change the draconic staring any. "So alone," he agrees. "That vast cavern, an insignificant figure in the-- no, not in the dark: in the light of a single basket of glows." He's back to more of a grin than his own earlier smirk. "But I don't have to worry about you dying or anything, do I? That harper, he's quite a guy."

Alysce's gaze drops down to the dragon briefly at the continued staring, only once it has started to prickle at her skin, but she only lifts her black gaze back to N'klas with a flirtatious smile. "That is quite the figure you'd strike. I would say I'd like to see it, but I'm sure they have rules about others in the barracks," she teases lightly in response, her smile caught in the corners of perfectly shaped lips. "Oh, Quint? The fate thing? No, he's probably just upset that I am not staying and doing lesson plans or something equally boring. Copying notes for him."

"No, you don't get to see my 'barracks,'" and the boyish smirk's back, N'klas prying his gaze from that smile. "We have ''enforcers''. No, I was thinking the main cavern. It's bigger, see. More dramatic in its loneliness." Khajith sighs, a heavy sigh, and leans that much more heavily against Nik, who braces himself automatically. "I'll make you a deal," disappears into a murmur to the blue, who seems at least ''temporarily'' satisfied. To Alyce again, "Funny, Fate has me copying notes a lot too. Don't suppose you're good with history?"

A laugh slips past Alysce's lips, light and soft as she wrinkles her nose in a artful gesture at the bluerider. "Well, if you won't show me yours, I won't show you mine. And besides, the main caverns are very rarely only lit by one basket," she points out easily. But her shoulder rolls up in a shrug as she adds, "For the most part, yes. I grew up at the Hall, so I had access to all of the teaching songs from around Pern."

Nik's laugh comes out more like a snicker. "I guess I'd have to run around shading them, then," he says, "to be dramatic enough. So you're a harper, then?" It's a guess on what they said, but N'klas looks to want it to be a ''good'' guess. "Apprentice or journeyman?" could be flattery, could be that he really doesn't know. "I'm N'klas, by the way, and this is Khajith," who gets a wave of his thumb before the bluerider very properly extends his hand.

There is a hint of amusement for that proper gesture, but still Alysce moves to take it. Not without, however, dragging her thumb against the shape of the bluerider's knuckles. "Senior apprentice Alysce," she introduces herself, before she repeats his name with a slow precision. "N'klas."

"''Senior'' apprentice Alysce," means to be ''very'' impressed, and possibly even debonair, except for how his voice cracks like that. Because that, with her thumb; and then she goes and says his name that way and suddenly N'klas jerks his hand back like it's on fire. "''No'', she's just--" that was out loud, wasn't it. Nik looks from his dragon to the older girl again, straightens to his full height, and says red-faced, "I... better go wash him. Right now. Because. Night, Fate." It isn't quite one word, but ''almost''.

Alysce only seems amused and partly triumphant for N'klas' reaction. There is a hint of laughter in her tone as she tells him in a murmur, "See you around, Lonely." And her hair is tossed over her shoulder even as she turns on a heel to retreat much more gracefully this time, with a slight sway to her hips.

"I am not lonely!" the teenager yells back over his shoulder. "I have a ''dragon!''" Who warbles, shoves N'klas again, and races him inside. ''Khajith'' wins.
}}

Alysce

2015-11-04T03:13:58Z

Alysce:

{{ProfileTabs
|picture=Alysce.jpg
|body=
== Description ==
Black hair falls in jagged edges, framing a sharp face. There's nothing soft about Alysce's features where the curve of her brows are black and fine, over black cat-shaped eyes. Her nose is a slim line and her lips are full yet precise. Her cheekbones are high and her jaw is angled. She is tall yet slim, the sun warming skin and still holding color from a warmer clime.

{{wysk}}

= History =
Alysce was born to a pair of master harpers, Allent and Scenna, both assigned to teaching positions at the Hall. She is their first and only child together, the whirlwind romance of their young adult lives quickly falling apart where Scenna fell in love with another harper and Allent was distant and busy. Journeyman Scenna would go on to have another four children by her next significant other, while Allent would not. They both, however, were civil in the raising of Alysce.

And in the place of the love and warmth of a family, which Scenna reserved for her other family and Allent reserved for his master pieces, Alysce had herself and the Hall. Even with the encouragement and expectation of her parents, the Hall never meant the same to her, however, as it did to those apprentices that she saw come from around Pern. It was /home/, but it wasn’t what she meant to do with life.

What she was meant to do with life never came to her. There was never any brilliant lightning strike of inspiration, so she studied at the Hall. Even with training all of her life, she’d always been mediocre; she lacks the passion that would make her great even if she’s technically sound in every area. Despite this reality, Allent pulled some strings to have her assigned to Journeyman Quint as soon as she walked the tables to senior apprentice two turns ago.

Since then, she has been studying with Quint, with the hope that she will make a proper journeyman herself, some day. For the past two turns, they had been at Southern Boll, and have recently (5 months) ago transferred to High Reaches Weyr, with a new addition of a talented apprentice, Ryneton.

= Relationships =
{{Family}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Father
{{!}}Allent
{{!}}Harper
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=806202000}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Mother
{{!}}Scenna
{{!}}Harper
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=949021200}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-brother
{{!}}Rascel
{{!}}Apprentice Glass Smith
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1275037200}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-sister
{{!}}Lacie
{{!}}Apprentice Weaver
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1297270800}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-sister
{{!}}Lisce
{{!}}Apprentice Vintner
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1313946000}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-sister
{{!}}Seracinna
{{!}}Resident
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=949021200}}
{{!}}}

* '''[[Quint]]:''' ''mumblemumblesomething''
* '''[[Ryneton]]:''' ''see above''

= Recent Logs and Vignettes =

{{NewLogs |name=Alysce}}

= Icons =
{{:Alysce/Icons}}
}}
{{Character-Categories}}

Alysce

2015-11-04T03:12:57Z

Alysce:

{{ProfileTabs
|picture=Alysce.jpg
|body=
== Description ==
Black hair falls in jagged edges, framing a sharp face. There's nothing soft about Alysce's features where the curve of her brows are black and fine, over black cat-shaped eyes. Her nose is a slim line and her lips are full yet precise. Her cheekbones are high and her jaw is angled. She is tall yet slim, the sun warming skin and still holding color from a warmer clime.

{{wysk}}

= History =
Alysce was born to a pair of master harpers, Allent and Scenna, both assigned to teaching positions at the Hall. She is their first and only child together, the whirlwind romance of their young adult lives quickly falling apart where Scenna fell in love with another harper and Allent was distant and busy. Journeyman Scenna would go on to have another four children by her next significant other, while Allent would not. They both, however, were civil in the raising of Alysce.

And in the place of the love and warmth of a family, which Scenna reserved for her other family and Allent reserved for his master pieces, Alysce had herself and the Hall. Even with the encouragement and expectation of her parents, the Hall never meant the same to her, however, as it did to those apprentices that she saw come from around Pern. It was /home/, but it wasn’t what she meant to do with life.

What she was meant to do with life never came to her. There was never any brilliant lightning strike of inspiration, so she studied at the Hall. Even with training all of her life, she’d always been mediocre; she lacks the passion that would make her great even if she’s technically sound in every area. Despite this reality, Allent pulled some strings to have her assigned to Journeyman Quint as soon as she walked the tables to senior apprentice two turns ago.

Since then, she has been studying with Quint, with the hope that she will make a proper journeyman herself, some day. For the past two turns, they had been at Southern Boll, and have recently (5 months) ago transferred to High Reaches Weyr, with a new addition of a talented apprentice, Ryneton.

= Relationships =
{{Family}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Father
{{!}}Allent
{{!}}Harper
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=806202000}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Mother
{{!}}Scenna
{{!}}Harper
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=949021200}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-brother
{{!}}Rascel
{{!}}Apprentice Glass Smith
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1275037200}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-sister
{{!}}Lacie
{{!}}Apprentice Weaver
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1297270800}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-sister
{{!}}Lisce
{{!}}Apprentice Vintner
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=1313946000}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Half-sister
{{!}}Scenna
{{!}}Resident
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=949021200}}
{{!}}}

* '''[[Quint]]:''' ''mumblemumblesomething''
* '''[[Ryneton]]:''' ''see above''

= Recent Logs and Vignettes =

{{NewLogs |name=Alysce}}

= Icons =
{{:Alysce/Icons}}
}}
{{Character-Categories}}

Logs:Lost in a Weyr

2015-11-02T03:10:35Z

Alysce: Created page with "{{Log |who=Quint, Alysce, |what=Quint and his apprentices first day at the Weyr. |where=High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=8 |month=11 |turn=38 |IP=Interval |I..."

{{Log
|who=Quint, Alysce,
|what=Quint and his apprentices first day at the Weyr.
|where=High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=8
|month=11
|turn=38
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.11.01
|quote="I'll leave that choice to you, since you are -- as you've pointed out -- no longer a child."
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon quint.jpg, Icon alysce overtheshoulder.jpg,
|log=Their arrival at High Reaches is inauspicious; by the time they dismount from the dragon kind enough to transport them, and get most of the boxes in, the cold wintry rains have well and truly soaked through clothing meant for the warmer climes of Southern Boll. Quintus spends a bit of time talking with one of the assistant headwoman, and from there they're directed towards the room set aside for him, as well as the apprentice dorms. Once all their things are settled, Quint sticks his head into the apprentice dorms, eyes alight. "Shall we go exploring?" With Ryneton choosing to seek an early night, the twitch of disappointment is brief, before the Journeyman turns inquiring eyes on Alysce.

Hair still wet, Alysce has taken the time to change, at least, into something warm and dry, however much the dark pants cling to her legs and the tunic falls off one curved shoulder. She looks up from a piece of hide, black eyes catching her Journeyman's with the slow spread of a smile. "And if we get lost?" she challenges, even as she lets the hide fall from her fingers to land on her desk. She gives one last glance to Ryneton, mouthing something to him where Quint can't see, before she turns on a heel to stride out of their shared room.

"If we get lost..." Quintus considers. "I can, at the very least, teach you how to stoke a fire with a couple of sticks, maybe some string. Maybe a flint stone." He snaps his fingers. "Ought to get one before we head off, just in case." He leans back from the doorway as if intending to do that, right now. He might've missed that exchange between his apprentices, given there's no indication in expression that he's seen it. Instead, he lingers, waiting for Alysce to join him in the hall, before he sets off with typical, long stride, setting a good pace to which all previous requests to slow down have fallen on deaf ears.

Alysce has long legs, but they are no match for Quint's when she does join him in the hall. "You are going to lose ''me'' if you keep walking that fast," she remarks dryly, despite the failure of previous attempts to get him to slow down. "Then what will you write to the Hall? 'Sorry, lost her; good thing I have a spare'?" Despite the newness of her surroundings that is ostensibly the reason for her to join the Journeyman, the young woman behind him is watching ''him'' move.

His, "You have to step lively to catch all the best things," is an oft-heard, eye-roll-worthy phrase from her Journeyman. Quint holds open the door for her, stepping out into the main area, drawn towards the lounge. "I ''do'' have a spare, now," he acknowledges, with a musing smile, glancing over his shoulder. "Seems quiet so far. But we'll talk more tomorrow, I imagine." The energy is not unusual; his pensive expression perhaps moreso, seen in a half-hearted mixture of glow-light.

"I like to let things catch me. Don't want to seem too easy," quips Alysce in turn, in the way of someone having saved up ''just'' that answer until she could use it. A smile catches at the corner of her mouth, though, as she meets Quint's gaze for a moment. That is, before she drags her gaze away with a toss of black hair to look around the room. "You impress and awe him. He's less quiet with me. Has said, you know, four words instead of two."

Quint's known Alysce -- and indeed women in general -- long enough not to step into ''that'' trap, ignoring her initial response altogether, in favor of a quick shake of head. "''Awe'' him? I doubt that. It's probably more--" with a gesture, "''This'' place. It is his first out-Hall posting, you know. I'm relying on you to help him with matters of decorum, if needed," he meets her gaze, stern as he can manage -- which isn't overly, not really -- "Hmm," to her latter words, gaze on the hearth with seeming approval. "Well. Mind you don't twist your fingers around him too badly. I'd had to have to write your parents." As would he, though that goes unstated.

The curve of Alysce's brow marks that she notices Quint's avoidance, but there's only the hint of a smile more for herself that him. And it reads quite clearly victorious. "I don't think you have to worry about that, but don't worry about taking my word for it," she dismisses lightly. Her gaze slides away, though, as she takes in the cavern around them. "It is a pretty impressive place. Dragonriders and star stones and heights..." Her smile only lingers for all of that. "I'll make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble, but it ''is'' a ''Weyr''."

"Yes," Quint responds, with a certain weight, "It ''is''," and he stops, turning his body slightly to regard his apprentice anew. "Given this is ''your'' first posting to a Weyr, I urge you to discretion, if not caution. You bear the weight of the craft on this," he taps her knot, lightly. A beat of pause, before he adds: "And I'm not your father, but I ''am'' responsible for you, and I'd hope not to have to explain to your parents why you're with child, mm?" He gave her, a somewhat less firm talk on her arrival at Boll, too, though this one seems more in earnest.

The apprentice draws up straighter where Quint turns to her, at the tap of her knots. Alysce practically murmurs, "No, you're not my father, Quint. If you were my father, you wouldn't care, but you ''do''." And for a moment, she'll seek to hold his gaze, with all the soft surety of a young woman of 18 turns. Her next words are lighter, letting that moment slide away as she says, "Don't worry, sir. I know enough about Weyrs to know how to take care of ''that'' particular problem. And anything that I get up to will be mild compared to the stories I've heard."

If there's sympathy, it's hidden behind well-schooled, Harper-trained niceties of evenness; Quint merely nods, instead. He, too, avoids the mess that is the strained relationship of a daughter with her father; reaching a hand for her shoulder that is both silent reassurance and guidance, as he resumes walking. "Ah, well," there's amusement in his tone, now, "Many of the stories are both true, and not-true, as are many things in life. I'll own, I found many disappointments as surprises in my first Weyr posting; but I'll not spoil that for you," with a sidelong grin, slowing only to hold open the door to the bowl, where the rain has relented to a constant, if lighter, patter.

"No? No stories about what a young Quint got up to in a Weyr full of young women?" A beat, before Alysce adds lightly, "Or ''men''?" She stops just inside the bowl, careless of the fall of rain that already catches at her dry outfit as she takes in her ''second'' look at the massive range of stone surrounding them, of the dragons coming and going. "Tell me, at least, ''something''. Are you happy to be back at a Weyr?"

"And destroy the scant amount of authority in moral superiority I have over you? I wouldn't dare," comes Quint's smoothly quipped response. He stops only a step past her, on the outside away from the wall, a conscious choice that protects her from some, but certainly not all, of the wind-blown rain. He makes an interpretable noise at her latter query, reaching out a hand for her arm to pull her to movement. "You pick the worst times for deep questions, Alysce. I'd think you even do it deliberately, ofttimes." He's seeking the shelter of the overhand that leads into the inner caverns, not nearly so fascinated by the dragons as she. Only once there, does he allow, "I did rather enjoy the warmth of Ista Weyr, and the warmth of the people. Plus, it is far easier to beg travel to gathers all over, with so many riders going and coming. Staying under the rader so as not to be roped into a session or two with the local harpers -- ahh, now ''that's'' the trick of it."

A laugh slips past Alysce's lips, letting herself get pulled and picking up her own pace for once to quickly fall in next to Quint. "''Warmth'' of the people. If that isn't already destroying your moral superiority... Well." She smiles up at him, a bright, quick thing as tosses wet hair again. "Did you ever try for a dragon? While you were at Ista?" She casts one last glance over her shoulder to the dragons in the bowl, before the tunnel to the caverns blots them from view.

"Never," Quint replies, with a surety, his hand dropping from his apprentice's arm as they reach the relative dryness of the caverns. "I'd not for a second want to give up my craft." He glances sidelong, at Alysce, noting the look back over her shoulder. "There's two clutches on the sands, right now. If you're thinking of it, I'd urge you to give it serious thought. You'd be giving up Turns of training, and there's no going back." He makes it clear what his wish for her would be, by the stern-for-him words, though his gaze drifts from her as they reach the commons cavern, pausing near the entrance to watch the goings on, the activity of the residents as they bustle around their business.

"If you'd miss me, Quint, you just have to say it," Alysce teases, but he's earned her attention back with a quick look over the activity before it settles on the Journeyman even as he looks away. "You don't have to pretend that I am going to be some great addition to the craft one day, even under ''your'' tutelage. Maybe I would be a better addition to a Weyr."

To his credit, Quint keeps his gaze and attention elsewhere for moments longer. "And maybe you'd be a ''worse'' dragonrider, Alysce," he says, when he finally matches her gaze. "You haven't yet found your passion, your ''verve'', but that doesn't mean you won't find it. I have every confidence in ''my'' abilities," his lips twitch with barely suppressed mirth, that vanishes a moment later. After a few beats, he gives voice to the thoughts that tempers the humor: "Whose to say that another Comet Pass won't happen, all unexpected?"

Alysce's chin tips in a hint of a stubborn gesture, challenging, but it only softens at his question. She murmurs an ''almost'' agreeable, for her, sentiment of, "I doubt I'd ever make it through weyrlinghood, even. I've heard the stories about it." She shrugs up a shoulder, happy enough to let the subject go as she questions, "So, where to next? Just pick a tunnel and go?"

Quint, apparently, seems content enough with that answer, at least for now. "Ought to use your time here to get the stories from the source, if nothing else. Consider that your first assignment." He does so love those as teaching supplements, normally requiring tiring, long, and dull conversations with many people. "Ought to be a classroom, somewhere around here. We should -- ahh, good lady," he beckons the attention of a fast-paced older woman, who gives him a careful looking over and a not-so-subtle smile in return, "Would you tell us which way to the classroom?" She points, wordlessly, to a door, and then after a moment, resumes her fast walk. "Thank you, dear lady," the harper calls after her, gesturing for Alysce to precede him.

Alysce's breath is exhaled in a sign in anticipation of the dull assignment, muttering half to herself, "So that everyone can know exactly the lives that weyrlings live? I don't think anyone cares outside of the Weyrs and ''they'' already know." She likely already knows how fruitless her words are, however, since she doesn't press the point further than that before she sets off ahead of Quint towards the door. Especially since she adds over her shoulder, "I'll start with the candidates."

"Not ''everyone''," Quint corrects, adroitly. "Just ''you''. And probably Ryneton, too," his newest apprentice is, after all, still an afterthought. With a shrug of shoulders, "As you like," for her intention to interrogate the candidates first, "Although I imagine they have the ''least'' idea of all," he's saying, with somewhat of an amused smile, stepping in after Alysce. He's height on her, so he can see over her, surveying the room with an apparent grunt of what seems to be acceptance. "Good set up. I'd expect no less of Journeyman Kharven -- I've heard quite a bit about him."

"It'll be interesting then to compare what they think it will be like to what it actually is," counters Alysce with a shrug of her shoulder. She moves further into the room only to hop up onto one of the desks, sitting on it's surface and leaning her weight against the palms of her hands as she looks to Quint. "Yeah? Must be a reason, still, that you've been sent to replace him."

"He's been here over eight Turns. Like as not they're recalling him to the Hall to promote him," it's Quint's first guess, anyway, though not substantiated by fact necessarily. He leans to strum one of the gitars hanging up on the wall, wincing at the off-note C. "I think you ought to take on more teaching duties yourself, while you're here," he decides, all of a sudden, with a look back towards Alysce.

Alysce makes her own wince, not for that off-note that seems to slip right past her but rather the Journeyman's suggestion. "I don't want to deal with whiney, snot-nosed little brats running around and unable to sit still through a single teaching song. And the older classes won't take me seriously," she points out so reasonably, her lips curving into a smile just for Quint. "What if I promise to step up my composing? I'll devote more time to writing..."

"This isn't a negotiation, you know," Quint points out, reproachfully. "Your parents bid me to help you find a specialty that suited you, and I ''mean'' to. Otherwise," he spreads his hands, "You'll be stuck with me for who-knows-how-long." The jest is given lightly, hands dropping to his side. "There's something to be said for uncomfortable situations teaching you more than the comfortable. I'd say we put it into practice. I'll give you a week to come up with a lesson plan, and if I approve, you'll take the younger class under my supervision."

"And if you don't approve of any lesson plan I come up with?" challenges Alysce with a tip of her chin and a slow smile, those dark eyes sliding down Quint and then back up again to meet his. "Whose to say I mind being stuck with you?"

"Then you'll do aught else, night and day, until I ''do'' approve." Quintus apparently thinks that's sufficient deterrent for an extrovert, and more than enough to provide incentive. An easy smile answers the latter, as he moves over to lean on the desk next to the one she's chosen. "Because your parents bid me look after you, and ''you''," he leans over with the intention of bopping her lightly on the nose, "Are ''exactly ''the sort of child who wants to do the opposite of whatever your parents say, for attention."

Alysce's nose wrinkles at being booped, followed quickly by the lift of one challenging brow to the Journeyman. Instead of agreeing, however, she tells him sharply, "In case you haven't noticed, Quint, I'm not a ''child'' anymore."

"I'd noticed," Quint says, without a hint of dryness to his tone, "Everyone is, ''forever'', still their parent's child," the harper observes with a mixture of humor and wryness. "Didn't you see the way my mother practically shoved those knitted jumpers onto me when we were at Southern Boll? The way she fussed after my sister, worried about her ''virtue'', as if she weren't old enough to have three of her own children? Frankly," he releases a breath, "I'm glad they chose to stay south for the warmth. I love them, but ''Faranth''," he shakes his head in a mixture of fondness and consternation.

Something is murmured under Alysce's breath at that, but she doesn't press the issue. Instead, she tosses her hair again even as she says, "Well, they'll at least come in handy. I didn't think it'd be so shelling ''cold'' up here. We'll have to get a ride back to Boll soon, if just so I can update my wardrobe." She spares a look around the classroom, frowning, before she adds, "At least as a reward after I get my first lesson plan."

"Not ''too'' soon," is murmured in turn by Quint, a little fervently. "But yes, we ought." Familial obligations, are, after all, something the harper seems to take seriously, for all that he jests of the way his mother babies her children. With a wry shake of his head: "Knowledge ought to be its own reward, Alysce." He straightens, heading for the door. "Maybe when you can teach a younger class without showing all over your face that you hate the," he pauses, echoes her phrasing precisely and deliberately: "''Whiney, snot-nosed little brats'', I'll consider it."

"I'm sure there are any number of young bronzeriders willing to take me if you aren't," Alysce calls with teasing humor to the retreating Journeyman. "After all, as you said, it's easy to get rides around here, isn't it?" She moves to stand, though, clearly intending to follow him from the classroom rather than linger in it.

With a hand on the doorknob, Quintus stops, turns, and gives her a bland look devoid of his usual geniality. "Of course, you could.," he allows, "But word gets around, as they say -- especially in a Weyr -- and then I'll know I can't trust you." He turns the knob, pushes the door, holding it open for her as she moves to follow. "I'll leave that choice to you, since you are -- as you've pointed out -- no longer a child."

Alysce's gaze rakes over Quint in a sharper study, pausing in the doorway to turn to the man. She only ends up with a long moment of silence before she tells him quietly, "You can trust me. I will do what you ask, and as soon as ''you'' think it's time..." She doesn't finish that sentence, but it isn't without a sharp edge before she turns on a heel to stride out ahead of him. She doesn't wait to follow him further.

The nod Quint gives her is approving, silent, though blue eyes track her, before he moves to follow her. The rest of their tour takes them to the all-important bathing area, the resident's common lounge, and finally the living caverns. By now, it's late enough that it's sparsely populated, and after a quick walk around to get a lay of the land, he finally directs them back towards the crafter's area, and their new beds.
}}

Logs:Expanding Horizons

2015-11-01T22:29:44Z

Alysce: Created page with "{{Log |who=Quint, Odrick, Alysce |what=Quint and Odrick discuss the Weyr and apprentices. |where=Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr |involves=High Reaches Weyr |day=25 |month=2..."

{{Log
|who=Quint, Odrick, Alysce
|what=Quint and Odrick discuss the Weyr and apprentices.
|where=Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=25
|month=2
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.10.31
|quote="We learn through greater exposure to many points of view."
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon quint.jpg, Icon odrick.jpg, Icon alysce.jpg,
|desc=A passageway hewn into the rock and heavily patched with cement leads a
short distance in to the bowl wall, with a door on either side. Lit by
regularly spaced glows, the white-washed walls have been covered over by
colorful tapestries, wall hangings and pieces of art made from metal and
wood. To the left of the entranceway, just a single step inside, a spiral
staircase opens out of the wall, leading upwards through the stone.
Further down, a doorway opens to either side of the corridor, while at the
far end, there is a hewn-stone staircase leading up to the residential
quarters, wreathed by two final doors to private quarters and the bathing
room.

The door leading to the east opens into an expansive room that seems to
provide both general working space - with long, bare benches and chairs -
and a cozy lounge complete with over-stuffed sofas and a few fuzzy
armchairs. Three tall windows are carved into the stone, and offer air and
light when the heavy wooden shutters are left open, though the lounge area
has to make do mostly with glows. A hearth at the back of the room
provides both heat and basic cooking facilities. The white-washed walls
are bedecked with decoration - from quilts, to tapestries, to wooden
carvings and metal sculptures.

The western door leads into another passage, off of which the main
workrooms have been built. The loading dock is at the northern end,
leading back out into the bowl, with the rest of the rooms leading deeper
and deeper into the wall.
|log=It's been another cold winter's day at High Reaches, more windy than snowing, though that's not necessarily a blessing, either. It's been an unsettled, uneasy day for many, with the pre-dawn keening of the dragons mourning the passing of one of their own. It makes the children especially uneasy, and the morning's younger classes, run by Quint, are thrown over in favor of less classroom-style and more storytelling. It's suitably distracting enough that by lunch time, the children rush from the classroom with their usual enthusiasm. It's probably why, too, Quintus chooses to take lunch in the crafter's lounge, where it's more quiet, and he can imbibe beer in relative peace.

High Reaches' most recently posted harper is still settling into his new Weyr life and the keening that woke him up this morning was a little more unsettling than he probably could have expected. Odrick doesn't seem much the worse for wear when he appears, though, heading to pour himself a mug of ever-brewing klah from the hearth. It's not until he turns back to find a seat for himself that his dark eyes pass over Quint and then shift back to him again with more focus. "Journeyman," he acknowledges the older harper with a polite smile, but refrains from imposing further without invitation.

Quint's lifting beer glass to his lips when Odrick's greeting comes, lowering it easily. "We're not in the Hall anymore. And you're a Journeyman too," his fellow harper replies, with an easy grin of welcome, gesturing towards a chair in tacit invitation. "It's good to see you, Odrick. It's been, mm," he purses his lips, gives up trying to calculate, and squares his shoulders in quick succession. "How are you doing?" Whether he means, with settling in at High Reaches, or the morning's incident isn't clear, his full attention on the other harper.
Odrick steps around to pull out the chair and sink down, his mug dropped to rest on the table with his hands still wrapped around the heat. "Old habits die hard," he begins, then reconsiders with a quick frown. "A poor choice of words, perhaps. But it ''is'' good to see you, Quintus." He looks down at his mug, playing at his lip with his teeth, then asks, "That doesn't happen often, does it? That sound? It might be more difficult to settle in than I'd expected if that happens with any sort of regularity."

The brief ripple of a grimace from Quint accompanies Odrick's frown. "Not that often. Though -- more at High Reaches than any other Weyr I've been posted to date." If that's meant to mean something -- a warning, or other -- he doesn't follow it up in words. "The flights are far more frequent and unsettling. But that, at least, you adjust to after a while. Is this your first Weyr posting? Second?" he hazards a guess.

Warning or otherwise, Odrick takes a moment to mull over the other harper's choice of words before he's nodding. "My first. I was excited to take it. I still am." Just subdued by the unexpected. "Weyr folks have always been kind of fascinating. I can only imagine what it might be like here with the Red Star on the horizon." It's almost nostalgic, the way he says it, even though he's far too young to have ever experienced that particular horror. "I would think they're similar to a firelizard's? But magnified?"
The tightening of Quintus' expression, momentary as it is, suggests ''he'', on the contrary, was old enough to experience the Comet Pass, and moreover ''remember'' it. It passes, however, and his voice is easy enough, deliberately so, when he says, "I wouldn't risk saying such things around the older riders. They remember fighting it, and most of them get fairly touchy about the subject, even with a goodly amount of alcohol in them," he lifts his beer, lips twisting wryly, like he's speaking from experience. "Somewhat. They describe it as more a sharing, than anything -- and then they all say it's hard to explain, you have to experience it," he shakes his head with a noise of mock frustration. "Surely, only a harper could find the words." It's a light joke, as he takes a sip of his beer.

"I didn't mean-- I don't truly want to see its return. And I have no intention of attempting to imply as much to any of the riders. But it would have been... interesting to see the people of the Weyr during that time, you know? From an academic perspective." ''His'' academic perspective, to be more specific. Odrick lifts his mug for a thoughtful drink, glancing at Quint over the rim. Then, "You've experienced it, yes? The, uh, effects, I mean. Is it a worthwhile experience?"

"There's... records," Quint says, with a carefulness that isn't usual of him, "If you're interested. Personal accounts, some, in the records room." After a pause, he shakes his head, "Not at Weyr. My mother was an artist, my father a handyman. We traveled a lot, to find work. It ''was'' safe, until--" it wasn't. "We were... ''lucky'', I guess you could say. We made it to the Igen caves. My father's leg got scored, it got infected, he died." He says it with a blandness that divorces him from the history, fingers tightening around the glass he holds. "Was it worthwhile? No one who'd lost anyone they cared for would ever say that."
Odrick nods about the records and his answer is a subdued, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." But then he's looking rather uncomfortable, eyes dropping down to his mug. He offers a slight shakes of his head. "I didn't mean-- I'm sorry for the loss you suffered." He swallows with some minor difficulty, but clarifies, "I only meant the flights. If remaining in the Weyr during a flight would be a worthwhile experience." Perhaps less so now, granted. Odrick is quite obviously embarrassed by the misunderstanding.

"You didn't make the Comet Pass happen," Quint replies with an easy equanimity that is well-practiced, familiar harper-training. When Odrick clarifies, the other harper pauses for a moment, stunned, and then releases a surprised chuckle. "Well. That was--" he shakes his head. "Ahem. Well. Greenflights happen all the time. Most of the time you won't even notice. Goldflights are... an experience. Awkward, if you don't keep your head about you," the grimace suggests he speaks from some sort of experience, "-- and it isn't easy, mind. Thankfully for you, all the queens at High Reaches have risen recently -- or are too young to."

"Of course not." Odrick certainly won't attempt to argue that, but there's still sympathy in the way he says it. He doesn't laugh when Quint does despite trying to look less embarrassed than he did a moment ago. "Plenty of time to become more comfortable, then. Assuming I'm not onto my next posting by that point, which is entirely likely, I suppose." His expression is one that seems unsure whether it ought to be relieved or disappointed by the prospect.

Apparently Quint needs a moment to take a good gulp that drains most of the rest of his beer, setting the glass aside with a contented exhale. "Mmhmm. Could be two or three Turns, especially with three queens, now." He sees enough of his fellow Journeyman's expression to let out a wry sort of smile. "Well, until then, maybe between the two of us we can seek to fill old Kharven's shoes, eh? Any time in the last four months I've talked to anyone about changing up the teaching a bit, they mention Kharven. He had... mm, eight odd Turns here on us, though."

"And can't they see how much better your methods would be than his?" drifts from the entrance from the bowl, the young woman that speaks bundled into a cream-colored sweater and leather pants that cling to every inch of her legs. Alysce, bearing the knot of her rank, first looks to Odrick, taking in the Journeyman with a shamelessness that leaves the bare glint of approval in dark eyes. Then her attention is back to Quint, reporting to him, "You received a package from the Hall. I left it in your room."

Odrick will happily allow the subject to change to things with which he's exceedingly more comfortable. "I've no doubt that we can do a fine job." He won't say ''better''. That would be rude. Possibly even inaccurate. But a young man must be expected to maintain a certain level of ego. "We can probably keep up with the little ones more easily," is even an attempt at something lighter. Odrick looks over at the other voice when Alysce appears, though, unconcerned about the clashing of curious gazes.

"Or, at the very least, outrun them," the other Journeyman returns, with a grin. Quint's familiar enough with his apprentice that he recognizes her voice even without turning his head to look, giving an easy laugh. "Indeed! Newness, progress, surely there's amazing things to be done and tried!" his exaggerated reaction is obviously that, regarding his fellow Journeyman for a moment. "Journeyman Odrick, do you remember Senior Apprentice Alysce? Master Allent and Master Scenna's daughter." Surely there's no need for him to emphasize that last. There's a ripple of a reaction, but otherwise he waves away the news of a package from the Hall, gesturing instead to a seat in invitation.

"If you haven't already done and tried everything amazing," Alysce comments with her dry humor to Odrick, a slow wink given to the Journeyman even where she meets his gaze. "I was probably still a brat, running around when you were studying at the Hall." Her fingers fall to make a gesture at knee-level, possibly to indicate it, before she claims one of those fuzzy armchairs by sitting on its arm in a casual perch to listen to the two men.

He may not recognize Alysce anymore, but he recognizes the name of her parents perfectly well. Odrick sits up a bit straighter and he'll just focus his attention on Quint instead. Not that he seems entirely comfortable with that, either. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Alysce. Now that we're both old enough to remember the meeting. He doesn't comment further on matters of education, his klah becoming more and more fascinating now.

"Oh, ''stop''," Quint says, good-naturedly enough, for all that his gaze lingers on the girl and her attentiveness to Odrick, as if to press home the point with a bit of wordless emphasis. "Poor Odrick will think I've taught you to do naught but flatter your seniors constantly," he says, with a shake of his head. "I'll have to introduce you to the other one, too. Ryneton, his name is. Not nearly so ''esteemed'' a parentage as Alysce here, but he has an impressive voice."

There is the quirk of a smile at the edge's of Alysce's lips and the roll of a shoulder up in a shrug. She only says without any guilt or proper respect for rank, "Only you, Quint, darling. Even if you prefer Ryneton over me. Or his ''voice'', at least." The emphasis is caught and, for once, obeyed, as the girl doesn't give another glance towards Odrick. Instead, she lifts her hand to examine the cuticles of her nails. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

"I wouldn't think that," Odrick glances over at Alysce again, as though it's somehow her fault that he has to defend thoughts he's not having, however easy-going the defense may be. "But I look forward to meeting the other. I'm certainly a fan of an impressive voice." Never mind that it's a trait he shares with a good majority of people on Pern.

Quint, showing a great deal of restraint, manages not to roll his eyes at Alysce's words. Instead, he addresses his fellow Journeyman: "As are we all. Tell me, were you ''lucky'' enough to be saddled with an apprentice too, Odrick? If not -- perhaps Alysce and Ryneton can spend some afternoons with you to expand their horizons a little."

''That'' certainly gets through the careless facade of Alysce examining her nails. The young woman straightens, black eyes flicking up first to Quint then to Odrick and finally returning to Quint with the slow curve of a brow upwards. "I won't say no to some afternoons spent alone with the Journeyman," is meant to be suggestive even as it offers a challenge. "But I am sure he has his own duties. And he wasn't the one my parents foisted me on."

"Not so lucky, no." The answer comes out before Odrick even realizes that he's opened himself up to 'being saddled' with either of Quint's apprentices on occasion. He realizes it soon enough, granted, but Alysce's take on the matter, that suggestiveness in the way she says it, has the man saying, "No. I wouldn't-- Nothing like ''that'' would happen, I assure you. Definitely not." He has his character to defend here.

"Oh, no. As a ''pair'', certainly." If Quint hears the suggestive tone, perhaps he's well-used to expertly steering it to better purpose. "Don't let her rattle you, Odrick. She and Ryneton do better together when they're learning, anyway. A little competition is good for them." A beat. "So, what say you?" The flicker of his blue eyes towards his apprentice suggests her comment of her being ''foisted'' on him isn't exactly untrue. "Now, Alysce. We learn through greater exposure to many points of view. If I thought I know the whole of what the world had to offer, it would be a different story. But sadly," with a press of hand to his chest, "I am a mere mortal, and my head can only contain so much knowledge. Between Odrick and I," a gesture to his fellow Journeyman, "Mayhap we might teach you a small portion of the knowledge your own parents possess."

Alysce huffs out a sound of annoyance, for both Odrick's defensiveness and the twist of Quint's words. For all that she may be on the losing side, though, the apprentice does not go down without a fight as she turns on a coin to agree, "You're right. A little ''competition'' is good. I should see what kind of competition he can give you as a teacher, after all."

"I have no objections." So long as everyone is well aware that nothing untoward will be happening. Odrick must feel confident that's the case now, though, otherwise he'd almost certainly be saying as much out loud. "I think it would be very worthwhile. I've not had many chances to work with the same apprentices very often." Though surely that's partly his own doing.

"Very good," Quint's approving of Alysce's sentiment, and not a little bit troubled by the challenge to his capabilities. It's Odrick that he's watching, however, to see whether his fellow Journeyman might assent or not. The blond harper keeps his expression neutral, at least until Odrick finishes speaking, at which he leans forward to give him a light slap to the shoulder. "Good man, that's the spirit. It's settled then! I'll buy you a beer after, and we can compare notes." He ''might'' be joking. He's probably ''not''. Quintus sets hands to his knees, and pushes to his feet, collecting glass and plates. "Well, lunch is nearly over. I'd best get back to it. Odrick -- join us for dinner, won't you, and we can sort out the teaching roster? I'll have -- ahh, Alysce, would you make a copy of Journeyman Kharven's notes for Journeyman Odrick?" It's a lot of notes, and clearly Quint is aware of this.

"I'm sure it will be very worthwhile," Alysce murmurs, not quite under her breath, but apparently not satisfied enough with the turn that this has taken to offer anything more than a dry edge to her words. Where Quintus stands, the young woman slides to her feet as well from the arm of the chair, getting ready to follow him subconsciously. She tells her superior lightly, though, "I'll see it personally delivered." There is one last glance from the apprentice towards Odrick, her black eyes lingering once again.

By the time Quint stands, Odrick is smiling less uncertainly again. "Dinner, yes. I'll be there." His hand moves to his mug again, wrapping around the remaining heat. "And the notes would be greatly appreciated, thank you, Alysce. My room is up the stairs," he even offers for that personal delivery. "If I'm not there, there's a chair just inside the door where you can put it." There must not be anything in there worth locking away just yet. "Have a good afternoon," he offers to the both of them.

The noise Quint makes when Alysce gives that lingering look to Odrick might be warning. But then again it might just be clearing his throat. "Very good. I'll see you tonight, Odrick," with an easy grin to his fellow Journeyman, and a nod -- with a twist of lips -- for his apprentice, Quintus makes his way over to dump his dirty dishes, whistling as he departs with nary a bracing to face the chill weather outside.
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