NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Logs:Lacking Education

2015-11-06T07:44:15Z

Odd: Created page with "{{Log |who=Jo, Odrick |what=Jo and Odrick have different ideas on the meaning of education. |where=Nighthearth, HIgh Reaches Weyr |day=12 |month=3 |turn=39 |IP=Interval |IP2=1..."

{{Log
|who=Jo, Odrick
|what=Jo and Odrick have different ideas on the meaning of education.
|where=Nighthearth, HIgh Reaches Weyr
|day=12
|month=3
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.11.05
|quote=The shit I learned beyond that Hold was what kept me alive more than the harperin'.
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon jo.jpg, Icon odrick.jpg,
|desc=With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this
tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with
comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a
hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in
the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of
insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
|log=The nighthearth is only occupied by a few people this evening - Jo being one of them. She's at the sole table while the others are at the hearth, looking through a stack of drawn maps on the table's surface with a little bronze firelizard curled up on her shoulder. She's decked out in all black leather as if she's just gotten in from a ride, the wingsecond shoulderknot the only accessory openly seen on her frame as she drinks from a flask.

Odrick's arrival is a purposeful one, heading toward the klah like a man on a mission. He even makes a contented sound at the smell of it as he pours it into a mug. Once he's klahed, the harper turns. A glance to the hearth has his attention roaming further and his path eventually leads him to a comfortable chair near where Jo is settled at the small table. He, of course, is curious enough of the maps to let his gaze linger on them without his complete awareness.

Odrick's hurried entrance draws Jo's attention from her study. She pauses on that flask she holds, watching him go for the klah before he chooses a seat near her. By then, her attention returns to the maps, and perhaps it's the noted gaze as she drinks that has her breaking her silence with, "Are ya familiar with the Tillek region?" He dark gaze flicks from the maps to Odrick now, quietly assessing him.

"Not particularly. I was posted to a hold, briefly, but I could only tell you how to get around that. Probably not very useful." Odrick doesn't seem even a little bit concerned that he was caught looking at her documents, but he's not looking now. Now he's taking a sip of his hot drink, then he's setting it aside so he can pull a notebook and pencil out of his always-present messenger bag.

"Which Hold was that?" Jo asks now, watching Odrick for a long moment. "Ya say 'posted'. Yer a crafter, is it?" Her study doesn't abate as she spreads the maps out a bit, side by side before she adds about them, "I'm updatin' the area I had drawn out. Some of the marks I made here have me second-guessin' myself."

"I suppose I should say ''the'' hold. I was posted to Tillek Hold for several months. Journeyman Harper Odrick." His introduction is also an answer to her question. He is, indeed, a crafter. He's looking down at his notebook now, though, casually turning pages until he comes to the one he wants and writes something down while he says, "Can you not simply fly over it again?"

"Ahh," and his answer gets Jo to straighten up a little, eyeing him anew. "Journeyman harper." Pause. "Not for awhile," she answers now on the last, shaking her head as she looks over her maps. "I was hopin' to finish this tonight. Serves me well for rushin'. I have some other things to take care of in the opposite direction, besides. What brings ya to the Weyr?"

"Is that not what betweening is for? Being able to travel great distances almost instantaneously?" Odrick glances over at the woman, genuinely curious, but then also uncertain how to answer her. As politely as possible, he offers, "I accepted a posting. I'm a teacher. I suppose it's education, or the lack thereof, that ultimately brings me to High Reaches Weyr."

Snorting softly, "Scoutin' the land takes time, darlin'," Jo answers him, something seeming bring about a lopsided grin from her. "'N I don' got a lot of it these days since becomin' wingsecond. It's a personal project, anyway. It'll get done when it gets done." She drinks from the flask and sets it down as she eyes him for his latter response. "Yer sayin' we all lack learnin' or something'?" she seems to take his wording at face value, a brow lifting at him. "Or is it the kids ya mean?"

The harper murmurs a sound, acknowledging what she's said to him and that it't nothing that requires a response, while he writes something else down. When he's done, "I'm suggesting that you lack ''education''." She's sort of helping his point, judging by the way he looks at her with an undertone of concern. "But, yes. It's generally the children to which I'm referring." Odrick puts his pencil down, reaches for his mug to take another careful sip.

"I've got all the education I need," and Jo lifts one hand, balled into a fist. "My knuckles, my knives'n the wing I help run." Dropping the fist, "Learned my share back in Keogh," she tells Odrick with a knowing look. "The shit I learned beyond that Hold was what kept me alive more than the harperin'." It's matter-of-fact, the bluerider keeping a lingering study on the man. "Teach'em when they're young, though. It's good'ya here, then. How long ya posted here or do ya get to choose how long?"

"Yes, yes. You're a strong woman, perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. That doesn't mean that you're educated, dragonrider. And I never said there was anything problematic with your lack of education. You must get on well enough if they've allowed you to be a wingsecond." Odrick offers the older woman a pacifying smile, the white of his teeth contrasting cheerfully against his dark skin. "I much prefer teaching children, so don't worry about ''my'' wanting to further your education or anything." As for his term, "It's not entirely my decision. Things happen. But if all goes well, I'll be here for some time yet."

"Ya backpeddle. I'm not offended," Jo remarks as she matches Odrick's smile with teeth. "In the way ya mean, I'm not educated, but I do get on well enough. I imagine ya will enjoy teachin' the young here. What d'ya like teachin' the most, then?"

"I don't." Odrick eyes the woman, then turns his gaze curiously on the group near the hearth while he takes a deeper drink of his klah. Then, "I most enjoy teaching children how to read and write, I suppose. It's like opening a new door for them to the whole world." So he's kind of passionate about this academic stuff.

Jo meets that gaze steadily, and Odrick's answers seems to resonate well with her since there's a more genuine grin to steal upon her lips. Nodding, "Well, if ya ever need some children stories for them to read out, I have some for ya to borrow. I used to know some folks that would write them'n I'd give them over to the nannies here sometimes. I'm sure ya brought yer own, but, if yer lookin' for different material one day...." It's an offer as the wingseconds starts to stack her maps together.

"Thank you, dragonrider. Very much. I appreciate the offer." Odrick doesn't say whether or not he'll take her up on it, but more than likely he simply doesn't know whether it will be a future necessity at this point. "The children always enjoy having new stories to read. Much like myself." This earns another grin, but since Jo appears to be gathering herself to move along, the harper flips open his notebook, turns back several pages, and begins to read.

I feel generous, these days, strangely enough," comes from Jo, the woman getting to her feet as she stoppers the flask. " 'N, I have soft spot for kids' rearin'. Good meetin' ya, Odrick. Name's Jo, blue Tacuseth if ya take me up on the offer. Enjoy the rest of yer klah." She's heading out, passing a grin his way in her wake.
}}

Logs:Rhymes with Zoth

2015-11-05T05:07:25Z

Odd:

{{Log
|who=Lys, Odrick, V'ret
|what=Two weyrlings and a harper eat dinner; there are no songs about Zoth... yet.
|where=Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=9
|month=3
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.11.04
|quote="Are you planning to write a song about us? I don't think Zoth actually rhymes with anything."
|weather=It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder.
|type=Log
|icons=lys sideeye.jpg, odrick smile.png, V'ret default.jpg
|desc=>---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RIJMas) >-------------------------<

Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier
or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them
instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large
enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the
cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters
down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open
space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet,
and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's
offerings.

Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven --
only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they
add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the
centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling
and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end
of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an
array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows
are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
|log=For many, dinner signals the end of the duty day and the sunny day is reason enough for some diners to be in a particularly good mood. Add to that that tonight's roast rump roast is ''perfect'' and there's boisterous talk and laughter abundant. 'Group bonding' as is termed dinner time for the weyrlings sees those weyrlings able to leave their dragons scattered due to the volume of people. Lys sits with half her meal already wolfed down, some small portion of each item from her meal set aside on the edge of her plate. There just so happens to be a pair of open seats near her; surely, it's not a statement on which weyrlings people would ''prefer'' to bond with. ''Surely''.

Beggars can't be choosers, but that isn't to say that V'ret would have had any problem sitting down in one of those available chairs, when he shows up with a plate. Despite the advance of time, there are still about as many evenings that he's unable to make dinner as those that he is, so perhaps that's reason enough for the big smile. "Funny how the same thing can seem so much more appealing when it's actually cooked and served in a civilized fashion."

"Yeah," Lys agrees after swallowing her mouthful and reaching for her mug. "Though Evyth enjoys the raw so much that I don't really mind that much. If I learn one more thing about ''how'' they digest it though," she trails off with an expressive and exaggerated shudder. "Those dragon anatomy classes are enough to make me want to skip the next meal. How're you finding them?" Asking personal questions counts as bonding, right?

Two weyrlings at supper. Talking about, well, the sorts of things their lives are full of at the moment. "Zoth and I have slightly different taste in meals, but I can't complain that he doesn't savor what he gets," says V'ret. Except for the fact that this has somewhat increased the amount of labor necessary to bathe the young bronze, and this isn't the season where that's a chore to be looked forward to. "I admit, I don't think I have any interest now that we've gotten this far in training as a dragonhealer, I can say that. I'm glad he seems to be healthy as the proverbial runner. At least when it's someone else's dragon, I can have some... distance." Apparently the talk about dragons feeding and dragon anatomy is not enough to put him off starting on his food.

"Lucky," Lys sighs as she sets her drink back on the table. "Evyth got thick-tail twice in the first month." She makes an appropriate face for that but doesn't seem inclined to linger on the topic since it might have an adverse affect on her appetite. "What's it like for you?" seems like genuine curiosity. "Does he give you much-- space? Or kind of always there or-?"

With a bowl of stew in one hand and a mug of ale in the other, Odrick is looking for a seat. The fact that there are plenty of possible seats throughout the cavern can only mean that the harper settles down nearby Lys on purpose. "Evening, weyrlings. Been a lovely day, hasn't it? The sun and everything." He offers a smile to each before he's settling in with his spoon to enjoy his meal.

"He's very--" V'ret's brow has furrowed in such a way that the look when Odrick arrives could pass for relief. Or maybe it is relief. He at least takes it as a reason not to answer. "Oh, hey." It's not the most respectful of greetings, but there's a pleasant smile, an irreverent sort of salute. Are those owed to Harpers? Maybe it's just better safe than sorry. "The sun lifts the mood considerably, although you could freeze your," just slight pause, "ears off out there."

Lys's blue-green gaze that was interest for V'ret's answer becomes recognition for Odrick as she joins them. She looks ''just thrilled''. "Journeyman," she greets dutifully. She looks at the bronzerider a moment and then just sighs before sideeyeing the harper. Maybe she needs more sun.

The harper doesn't seem to expect more than a greeting, respectful or otherwise, from either of them, so Odrick seems quite pleased with what he's offered. "Let's hope none of us freeze off anything important. But I'd rather be happy it's not worse yet. Do your barracks stay nice and warm? I've never been inside of them." He's only just realized that. It will have to be dealt with another time.

"Well, you know, you might have a hard time fitting, they're stuffed pretty full at the moment," V'ret says blithely, though of course by Pass standards even two clutches can't possibly be as bad as all that. "It's more comfortable than sleeping outside." Lys gets a little look, or maybe it's a Look. "V'ret," he adds, an introduction, although he leaves her to her own.

"I hear you can still get through weyrlinghood if you lose a few toes. That's why they don't mind sending us out to run laps when Rukbat's up." Lys keeps her tone bland, expression likewise. Her fork picks over some roast tubers, separating out a small portion to join her bit of roast and some root vegetables. "Dragons help keep things warm at night." Presumably only if you sleep ''with'' yours, as Lys does. As for introductions, there seems to be none forthcoming from the blonde.

"V'ret. Yes." He sounds pleased for some reason, but then he's sharing said reason with the class, so to speak, "I've learned most of your names, I believe. Your bronze is Zoth, correct?" It's possible he simply heard that a few moments ago, but then his dark eyes alight on the young woman. "And your green is Evyth." The harper doesn't explicitly point out that he knows Lys' name, if in fact he does. "I'm Journeyman Harper Odrick. It's very nice to meet you." Note that he's looking at V'ret again when he says this last part.

It's a good sign for V'ret's exams that he's capable of putting two and two together as he chews, before setting his fork down for a moment. "You two have met? So sorry, I didn't realize. Zoth, yes. Harper. So, what interest has a Harper in a bunch of baby dragons and their sleep-deprived companions? Are you planning to write a song about us? I don't think Zoth actually rhymes with anything."

"'Met' might be overstating," the green weyrling tells the bronze-. Neither confirming nor denying her identity, Lys' lips only slightly pucker in a brief look of distaste before she affects a smile and turns that look on the harper. "I don't suppose," she directs to the harper in a too-sweet tone, "that your posting here is temporary, is it, sir?" Of course, she also offers to V'ret, ''helpfully'', "'Cough' could probably be flubbed," as a rhyme. "Or sloth. Haylof-t."

"Cloth. Froth. Wroth. Zeroth. If you want a true rhyme." Odrick nods along to Lys' other suggestions, though, too. "Soft. Trough. Surely that's more than enough to work with. And words can be arranged in such a way that one wouldn't have to--" It seems to occur to him now, "You were joking, weren't you. Well, fortunately for everyone, I ''do'' write, but not songs. Stories." To Lys he offers a smile, unruffled by her attitude, "More than likely. That's often the case with Journeymen, yes? I'd like to hope so, anyway." Wrong answer?

These suggestions are all taken in turn, with a succession of frowns, furrowed brows, nods, and that tilty-head kind of maybe thing. "It's a longer 'o', I think. It never sounds quite the same when I say it as when he did, though. I was joking, but I haven't done anything worth writing songs about, yet." Yet. "Or stories," V'ret adds, given this new information. "Which means you'll have to stick around at least a little while." This glance at Lys manages to be both pointed and slightly baffled, chiding and not at all understanding.

There's a brief conflict on Lys' face at Odrick's words, her eyes slightly narrowing as she looks at him. Her glance flicks to V'ret and there's a slight shake of her head, whatever that means, but then she's pushing back from the table and getting to her feet. "Excuse me," holds far less attitude than it probably ought for this being Lys, something decidedly ''off'' about her now as she collects her plate and mug. She leaves the mug in a receptacle but takes the plate as she heads out toward the bowl.

"Wherry teeth. Everyone's done something worth writing about simply by existing." Odrick glances after the greenrider as she departs, a small frown furrowing his brows more than turning down his lips. But then his attention returns to the remaining weyrling. "She's not a happy creature, is she. Seems a shame. Anyway. You've impressed a bronze dragon. That's not something the majority of people on Pern have ever done."

V'ret is left looking after Lys without any more comprehension than before, and then his head-shake is a delayed sort of mirroring. "I don't know. She's had--a lot of us have had a tough time recently. Adapting to things that have happened." Oh, but he should be keeping it light, shouldn't he? Focus on the positives. Bronze dragon! Big smile! "It's a start, anyway, I think. Now, once we get past the point where we're treated like children... we're allowed one drink with dinner or after, now. One. It's like being twelve and allowed to have a glass of wine about the size of a thimble, again." That's dinner, there, of course, and no sign of the drink in question.

"I've heard that." Odrick sounds sympathetic, but since V'ret moves on, the harper won't linger on those heavier subjects. He takes a drink of his ale, sets it back down, "I don't know that being treated like a child is ''all'' bad. They're allowed to say things that most adults wouldn't dare. And they suffer very little social repercussion for it. That sounds quite nice to me."

While V'ret should probably still be eating with enthusiasm at this point, he's at some point reduced to just picking at his food, and finally sets it aside. "I don't think we can get away with all that. I can think of a lot of things I'd like to say to the Weyrlingmaster after a long day that would probably have a lot of repercussions." This thought, finished, leaves a pause long enough for him to finish the meat, if not the vegetables, and soak up the juices with a slice of bread. "We have all the limitations and none of the freedoms, I guess. No fooling around, almost no alcohol. But one is better than none, and I'm thinking, they haven't forbidden cards--think I might hit the Snowasis if Zoth stays asleep. Even if it's for just a hand or two."

"You won't have those limitations for long. Not in the grand scheme of things. And there is a ''very'' grand scheme of things out there." Odrick smiles at the weyrling, stirring his stew absently. "I hope your dragon allows you to finish at least a couple. Enough to enjoy, at least. And a drink, if you've yet to have one."

That seems to be V'ret's signal to push his chair back. "I was a bartender. If I'm lucky, I figure, maybe someone who likes me will be on shift, and then I can get back behind the bar and make something myself. Properly." Pause. "At cost, ideally." He gets up, then. "Do you play, Odd? Cards, dice, any of those things?"

"That would be the way to do it. Good thinking." Odrick takes a small bite of his stew, just enough to swallow easily so he can eat and keep talking. "I enjoy watching them. I've played, but I'm not very good with cards. And dice are so fickle. Maybe I'll come watch you if you're still there when I'm done with this. I could use a glass of wine." His smile is cheerful. Yay, wine.

Taking his plate, V'ret makes a momentary rueful face. "Was worth asking, anyway. If you feel like coming out, you do that. I'm not great, but it's something to do that isn't just cleaning up after a dragon, and I could use the break." He pushes his chair back in. "If I don't see you there, sure I'll see you around soon enough." And then he takes off, presumably in a bit of a hurry to get that promised one drink.
}}
[[Category:HRW_Clutch_38_Logs]]
[[Category:General_Logs]]

Logs:Honest Impressions

2015-11-04T18:29:06Z

Odd: Created page with "{{Log |who=Irianke, Odrick |what=Odrick tells Irianke what she needs to hear, Irianke piques Odrick's interest in local superstition. |where=Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |invol..."

{{Log
|who=Irianke, Odrick
|what=Odrick tells Irianke what she needs to hear, Irianke piques Odrick's interest in local superstition.
|where=Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|day=6
|month=3
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.11.03
|quote=This Weyr is profoundly fortunate to be in the care of a Weyrwoman who has journeyed.
|mentions=Jocelyn, Lys, Quint
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon irianke.jpg, Icon odrick.jpg
|desc=The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former
weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its
convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from
the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor,
and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick
and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth
tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a
low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery
and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light
colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm
autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter
the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools
stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window
to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear
view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light
of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
|log=The Snowasis is busy tonight, the night cool, but not frigid and free of precipitation. There's a lively dart game in the corner, some poker going on at a large table, and a few people sitting alone at the bar. Though a few people approach the Weyrwoman, and she seems cheerful and welcoming, most aren't invited to stay too long, and ultimately leaves Irianke alone, nursing her drink and chatting idly with the bartender when she's not busy filling orders. A plate of cheese and thin sliced meats sits in front of the goldrider, barely touched.

"I'll have wine, please. Dry red, if there's anything good." Odrick smiles charmingly at the bartender as he sits in a seat one down from Irianke, leaving that polite space between them while it can be managed. "Nice night, isn't it?" is an offhand comment to the woman, probably, as he settles the messenger bag he'd been wearing in his lap to pull out a small notebook and pencil. It's only once he's lower the bag to the floor between his feet and the counter that the harper looks at the woman properly, clears his throat, and promptly sits up a little straighter. "Weyrwoman, my apologies. I didn't mean to--" Not recognize her immediately? Impose? Sit so close to her?

"Didn't mean to...?" Irianke doesn't let that comment fade off, but her head tilts to one side, her dark curls hanging loose and flashes Odrick a slow, if crooked, smile. "Impose? Sit by someone of such ''great'' esteem?" She must be mocking herself, the self-deprecation in her voice light and jocular. "No apologies are needed, harper. I hope you are better conversation than all the others who have tried tonight. I am," the older woman purses her lips and glances back at some of the failed contenders, "Apparently difficult to please tonight when it comes to small talk."

"Imposition covers all wrongdoings in this case, I believe, so I'll go with that one." Odrick's smile mirrors some of that self-deprecation, but it fades for the most part when he has his glass of wine by the stem. "If you're not wanting to sit by yourself, I'll be happy to provide you with--" He glances at his wine. "I'd say my ''best'' conversation, but I intend on having at least one more of these tonight, so I probably shouldn't go overselling myself. Would you prefer to be alone, Weyrwoman?" Despite the fact that they're ultimately strangers to each other, there's genuine empathy, perhaps even a note of concern, in the way the harper asks it, entirely willing to give the woman her space should she wish it.

"No." This much Irianke is certain of, for the answer is quick. "I don't wish to be alone, but most nights, when I feel this restlessness in my soul, I go dancing somewhere else, somewhere where people ''don't'' see me and apologize for the crime of sitting next to me and somehow imposing on my night." Odrick's stranger, this woman he does not know, suddenly sighs. "I'm sorry, it's been a rough few months, you're not a mindhealer and don't deserve this. Let's start again? Would you like to share my dinner?" She pushes the plate in front of the empty seat between them.

The young man frowns, concern in his brow. Uncertainty, too, but no clear intention to leave for now. "No apologies are necessary," he repeats her sentiment in his own way. "I may not be a mindhealer, it's true, but my father is. So if you need an ear, I can assure you that he raised me with every intention of my joining his craft." That's his own take on self-mocking. He obviously didn't join that craft and it must not have been on the very best of terms. "Thank you," he says as he reaches for a bit of cheese and meet to wrap it in, adding before he eats it, "I'm Odrick."

Irianke's finger lifts, the single digit waggling in the air between them and the return of her smile, a more genuine, if tired, affair. "Don't you know the saying? Never trust the child of a mindhealer. Newly posted? I don't believe I've seen you around, though any one could tell you, I'm particularly awful with names and faces until I've had a few weeks, even months, interacting with someone." The goldrider refrains from food, nursing her drink slowly still. "Well met, Odrick."

He laughs once his mouthful is gone. The sound is quiet, but he means it sincerely. "That may very well be the reason I chose to work with people who've generally not yet learned to be suspicious of me. But, yes. It's been just short of two sevens since I've been posted." Odrick's smile is warm as he continues with, "You're under no obligation to remember my name, Weyrwoman. Or my face, for that matter. It's not often that you get to make a first impression more than once."

"You called me Weyrwoman. I consider that my obligation to know as many names and faces as I can. It just," Irianke shrugs one slim shoulder and finally reaches for a wedge of cheese to nibble at, "Does not come as easily for me as others of my rank. Unless the rest of them just fake it well, which I wouldn't doubt." Her smile grows, a little more with each word Odrick says, and some of that aforementioned restlessness, that's betrayed in the shake of one leg and the tense hold of her shoulders, ''seems'' to relax marginally. "I don't think I'd have thought of it that way. An opportunity for someone to make a first impression again until that unfortunate day when I remember their name and face. Clever."

"That I call you Weyrwoman means - from my perspective, mind you - that you could call me whatever you sharding well liked. I'd almost certainly go along with it, a smile on my face for the opportunity to be of service to you." Odrick has something of that smile on now, in fact. He's enjoying himself and his unexpected company. "It ''could'' backfire on me, of course. If you leave here with nothing but good thoughts of me, and I hope that you do, either of us could be having a particularly bad day the next time we speak and, well. You get the idea." He's still smiling, more subdued now, but friendly all the same.

Irianke's head tilts, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I... can't quite tell if you're ''clever'' or if you're just confusing a simple minded girl deliberately so I'm more open to continue chatting with you. Either way," she confides with a low laugh, "It's working." The Weyrwoman, as she is and has so been designated by Odrick, finishes her cheese and takes another sip. "I don't feel like I've laughed in weeks now. A few friends of mine," her voice stops suddenly and a shadow crosses her eyes, "No. I don't think they'd like to be called friends. People I knew and cared for once, have died in succession. I am reminded of my own mortality daily. You have, I presume, heard of the curse of the High Reaches goldriders?"

"Simple minded is definitely not the word I'd use to describe you." Odrick reaches for another piece of cheese, skipping the meat this time. His smile turn toward sympathy as Irianke continues, however. "I'm sorry to hear of your losses. It's painful to lose those we're familiar with, even if you aren't very close to them when they're lost." As for the rest? "I have heard of High Reaches' difficulties with goldriders, yes. But I can't say I'm the sort of man who believes in things like curses."

"That's reassuring that someone here doesn't believe in curses." Irianke tips her head back for a longer gulp of her whisky. "See, I'm afraid that a chain of events have transferred the curse from the goldriders to the bronzeriders. Eventually, it'll hit every dragonrider in the Weyr and what will be left with? Nothing. Absolutely nothing." The woman's Igen drawl is heavier for this statement. "Traders and dragonriders both, superstitious lots. Lucky for me, I carry both with me and it's hard to tell when I'm being irrational."

Odrick nods along as he listens to what she has to say on the matter, eating his cheese and taking a drink in the meanwhile. After he's considered it, he asks, "If there is truly some sort of curse, is there any information on where it may have originated?" The harper doesn't sound judgmental. He sounds as though he's going to consider the idea with an open mind.

"I am," Irianke spreads out her hands, her glass now on the table, "Probably the last person to tell you the origins of such as an interloper here in spite of being the Weyrwoman. You should speak with another harper who may have been here longer, or a dragonrider who's been here for a while." Bereft of her drink, the goldrider now focuses better on the food and puts together a cheese and meat stack to chew through. "What kind of harper are you, Odrick?"

Again he nods, even more thoughtful now. But he refocuses, gesturing at his own glass, "Do you enjoy wine? This one's quite nice. Would you allow me to get a glass for you?" Odrick finishes off the last of his glass, lifting a hand to catch the bartender's attention to at least fill his own again. "I'm a teacher, primarily. I enjoy spending time with the younger children. They're so... ''brutally'' honest. It can be quite humbling." And it makes him smile fondly at the thought of it. "I strive to follow their example in my day to day affairs. I believe it makes me a better writer. My other passion."

"I drink it," says the woman, though her tone doesn't suggest either passion or distaste. Irianke is far more interested, rather than the wine he might get for her, in what he says. "Do you? I'd welcome some brutal honesty. I should spend more time with children it seems. Or... you?" Lilting upwards, the goldrider flashes Odrick a ''charmed'' smile with brows quirked upward in invitation.

That she drinks it is enough for Odrick. Surely he can finish off whatever she doesn't should the need arise. "If I'm being brutally honest," says the harper, doing a stand up job of keeping a straight face through that choice of wording, "I'd much rather you spent time with me than them. Though, from your perspective, it might seem as though my life experiences aren't so very different from theirs." That earns a quiet laugh, but a more sober question. "Do you truly consider yourself an interloper here?"

"A goldrider just Impressed a few sevens ago. She's born, bred, and now rides for High Reaches Weyr." Irianke begins her answer with this and finishes off her whisky while she waits for that wine. "I am not deaf. I hear what people say and I recognize that no matter how long I live here, those of High Reaches will probably not consider me one of them. Oh, Faranth. I doubt you expected such a sob story from a Weyrwoman on a night like this. I promise, I am normally ''not'' like this. Just the last few months have been pretty terrible."

"It's okay, Irianke." Odrick ''is'' capable of using her name, it seems. "I mean it. I wouldn't suggest that I'm a good replacement for a mindhealer, if you feel as though you might benefit from speaking to one, but they would no doubt tell you that it's healthy, even healing, to give voice to your thoughts and to your feelings." The harper turns a smile to the bartender when their wine comes, and waits for them to move on again before continuing. "I've never quite understood why Weyr of birth seems to matter so much to dragonriders, with all the stories we hear about ambitious bronze- and brownriders crashing foreign senior flights. Does it matter to the dragons where they're from? It seems it would be a cruelty to ever transfer them anywhere, were that the case." He's done some reading.

Irianke startles, her name being used so casually somehow causing ''this'' sort of reaction. The woman blinks a few times and then looks at the glass of wine that's now appeared. "You'd think," she says, electing to respond only to the last bit of what Odrick says. "That it shouldn't matter so, but to some, it apparently does. This is good wine," she remarks, taking a sip and then another.

"I'd think the Weyrs would support more inter-Weyr movement, honestly. There's a reason Journeymen journey. And it's not because our Masters would rather we not be around. Or because they think we'll take their Mastery from them if we are." Odrick is being purposefully facetious. "Knowing other people, other ways of life, it tends to make people better versions of themselves. You have a different perspective than any Reachian could have. And this Weyr is profoundly fortunate to be in the care of a Weyrwoman who has journeyed."

It is a rare night for Irianke to be taken so off guard more than once and this is the second time already in the short span of a few breaths. "I...," her dark blue eyes, shaded grayer for the shadows as she dips her head a little, ''look'' at Odrick. Words fail her again and she just releases a ''paah'' sound into the air, takes a moment to hard swallow, and sips from her wine instead. Eventually, she says, "Thank you. I think I needed to hear that tonight more than the cathartic release of dancing."

Odrick must be aware of the fact that he's saying things the woman wasn't properly prepared to hear him say. But instead of feeling good about catching a powerful woman off guard, there's something tense in the way he smiles to her thanks. "It's my pleasure, ''truly'', to be of service to you." It's sincere, despite the tension. But his wine will sweep that away before long. "Not that I have anything against dancing," he says with a small laugh. He's a harper. That might be close to blasphemous, were it the case.

"Your father taught you well." Irianke says after a spell, where she's drinking that wine slowly. "I'm glad the others ran off, unwilling to put up with my dour mood. You've been a welcome interlude to my night." The Weyrwoman swirls her glass, watching the red liquid swish. "How have you liked High Reaches thus far?"

While his father's praise doesn't earn more than a polite smile, the rest seems to be taken as a more relevant and meaningful compliment. "It's been pleasant so far. Beyond a brief run in with some rude weyrlings. But I quite respect another of your teachers. I think we'll work well together. I've never been around dragons this much. They're noisier than I'd thought." He won't talk about the keening specifically, but he takes a drink that hides some of his expression just long enough for it to dissipate.

Irianke does not inquire further of those weyrlings, but her brow puckers then narrows briefly at that. "I can't promise I will remember your name the next time we meet, but I am fairly certain I'll remember your face. Just don't hold it against me if I forget your name. Odrick. Odrick. Odrick." Even thrice, it's not likely it's committed to memory. "Good night, Odrick. Thank you for the company and the blunt honesty." She's left a little bit of wine in that cup.

"I promise you that I won't," Odrick assures her, good humor making his words less serious. "Good night, Irianke. I hope you'll rest somewhat lighter tonight." He'll stay here until he's finished his wine, and hers, and taken the time to write down a handful of notes in that little journal of his. But until she's out of sight in the crowd, his dark eyes follow the Weyrwoman thoughtfully.
}}

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2015-11-01T22:15:42Z

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2015-11-01T22:12:36Z

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2015-11-01T22:11:58Z

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Odrick

2015-11-01T21:59:09Z

Odd:

{{ProfileTabs
|picture=Odrick.jpg
|body=
== Description ==
He has the tall and dark thing going on, this Harper. At six foot one, he's maybe on the average side of tall, but the dark is undebatable. His hair is black, short and tight against his scalp, and framing his lips and chin with well-groomed precision. His rich brown eyes are friendly, along with the smile that pulls so easily at his full lips. Odrick dresses well, tailored clothes and nice leather shoes, soft scarves and even a necklace or bracelet now and then.

== WYSK ==
{{wysk}}

= Background =
{{Family}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Father
{{!}}Odrinson
{{!}}Master Healer
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=919846800}}
{{!}}-
{{!}}Mother
{{!}}Emika
{{!}}Journeyman Harper
{{!}}{{Age |birthsecs=961520400}}
{{FamilyEnd}}

== Background ==
Odrick was born in Fort Hold to then Journeyman Healer Odrinson and Journeyman Harper Emika. His childhood was relatively uneventful despite several siblings. He apprenticed to Harper Hall instead of following the expected path in his father's footsteps, and it's been a pain point between them ever since. It doesn't matter that the choice has been made and he couldn't change his mind now even if he wanted to. But he really doesn't.

Odrick was a bright student with a knack for helping others learn. Since earning his Journeyman's knot, much of his career has been dedicated to teaching children. The rest of his career has been focused on a somewhat more personal interest. Odrick fancies himself something of an anthropologist, and most of his spare time is spent watching, studying, interacting with, and writing about people.

He's taken several postings in various places, major Holds and cotholds, to help further his secondary studies. High Reaches, however, will be his first Weyr-based posting.

= Icons =
{{Icons}}

= Recent Activity =
{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

}}
{{Character-Categories}}

Odrick

2015-11-01T21:50:03Z

Odd:

{{ProfileTabs
|picture=Odrick.jpg
|body=
== Description ==
He has the tall and dark thing going on, this Harper. At six foot one, he's maybe on the average side of tall, but the dark is undebatable. His hair is black, short and tight against his scalp, and framing his lips and chin with well-groomed precision. His rich brown eyes are friendly, along with the smile that pulls so easily at his full lips. Odrick dresses well, tailored clothes and nice leather shoes, soft scarves and even a necklace or bracelet now and then.

== WYSK ==
{{wysk}}

= Background =
{{Family}}
{{FamilyEnd}}

== Background ==
Odrick was born in Fort Hold to then Journeyman Healer Odrinson and Journeyman Harper Emika. His childhood was relatively uneventful despite several siblings. He apprenticed to Harper Hall instead of following the expected path in his father's footsteps, and it's been a pain point between them ever since. It doesn't matter that the choice has been made and he couldn't change his mind now even if he wanted to. But he really doesn't.

Odrick was a bright student with a knack for helping others learn. Since earning his Journeyman's knot, much of his career has been dedicated to teaching children. The rest of his career has been focused on a somewhat more personal interest. Odrick fancies himself something of an anthropologist, and most of his spare time is spent watching, studying, interacting with, and writing about people.

He's taken several postings in various places, major Holds and cotholds, to help further his secondary studies. High Reaches, however, will be his first Weyr-based posting.

= Icons =
{{Icons}}

= Recent Activity =
{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

}}
{{Character-Categories}}

Odrick

2015-10-31T06:14:59Z

Odd:

{{Profile
|picture=Odrick.jpg
|mother=Journeyman Harper Emika
|father=Master Healer Odrinson
|siblings=Several
|body=== Description ==

He has the tall and dark thing going on, this Harper. At six foot one, he's maybe on the average side of tall, but the dark is undebatable. His hair is black, short and tight against his scalp, and framing his lips and chin with well-groomed precision. His rich brown eyes are friendly, along with the smile that pulls so easily at his full lips. Odrick dresses well, tailored clothes and nice leather shoes, soft scarves and even a necklace or bracelet now and then.

== Background ==

Odrick was born in Fort Hold to then Journeyman Healer Odrinson and Journeyman Harper Emika. His childhood was relatively uneventful despite several siblings. He apprenticed to Harper Hall instead of following the expected path in his father's footsteps, and it's been a pain point between them ever since. It doesn't matter that the choice has been made and he couldn't change his mind now even if he wanted to. But he really doesn't.

Odrick was a bright student with a knack for helping others learn. Since earning his Journeyman's knot, much of his career has been dedicated to teaching children. The rest of his career has been focused on a somewhat more personal interest. Odrick fancies himself something of an anthropologist, and most of his spare time is spent watching, studying, interacting with, and writing about people.

He's taken several postings in various places, major Holds and cotholds, to help further his secondary studies. High Reaches, however, will be his first Weyr-based posting.

{{wysk}}

{{Family}}
{{FamilyEnd}}

== RP Logs ==

{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{Icons}}
}}
{{Character-Categories}}

File:Odrick.jpg

2015-10-31T05:50:29Z

Odd: