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Ceawlin: Created page with "{{ Log | who = C'wlin, Telavi | where = Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr | what = Telavi finds C'wlin in the bowl; they discuss the merits of learning history. | when = Day 9, ..."

2013-03-28T07:14:28Z

Created page with "{{ Log | who = C'wlin, Telavi | where = Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr | what = Telavi finds C'wlin in the bowl; they discuss the merits of learning history. | when = Day 9, ..."

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{{ Log
| who = C'wlin, Telavi
| where = Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Telavi finds C'wlin in the bowl; they discuss the merits of learning history.
| when = Day 9, Month 5, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.28
| quote = Tell me, Harper, why it's all worth it.
| weather = Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy.
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = c'wlin.jpg
| log = Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
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.

Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy.

Contents:
Athimeroth(#1673ep$0)

Obvious exits:
Guest Weyr Dragon Infirmary Weyrling Area Feeding Grounds Craft Area Lake Shore West Bowl

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Fog hovers, lingering all day with only a slight thinning during the warmest hours of the day. By the time Rukbat slides low enough in the sky to be called dusk, the usual hustle and bustle of the early evening twilight candlemarks is in full swing. C'wlin is no different than anyone else, making his way from the barracks to the living caverns, only without the rush in his steps that others may have. The last dying rays of the day catch and glint off fair hair and the weathered dragonet that follows.

With him that easy to spot, Telavi's long strides catch her up easily, at the last becoming easy skips on the opposite side from Athimeroth. She reaches for his shoulder, somewhere between a tap and a slight pull. "C'wlin, right? ''Tell'' me if I'm saying your name wrong, I've heard it in so many accents now that my head's fair to spin. I need your excellent harper skills." Solith's nowhere in sight. Maybe she's doing her own catching up.

Startled -- well Athimeroth is more what startles C'wlin for when Telavi's hand hopes to stop the forward momentum, the bronze flurries a turn like a mini-whirlwind of hot air. Until recognition is met for a fellow weyrling and C'wlin himself has regained whatever surprise flits across sharp features. "Yeah." He squints, eyeing the the girl who's about his height, "Telavi, right?" A smirk plays at the corners of his lips, though he gifts her with, "S'uhwlin." Beat. "From See-ah-lin." Eyebrows raise. "My skills? In what?"

"''Thank'' you," that girl says, her smile lighting up against the blue of her cap. It's a lumpy cap, with her braided hair pinned up beneath it, designed not to let any wisps show: so far as their weyrlingmasters are concerned, Telavi is bald. She glances over at Athimeroth, not really ''down'' as such anymore, then back at C'wlin with her mobile brows raised. "You have it just right, with the accent or stress or whatever you call it on the 'lah.' I think I might take a little longer to wrap my tongue around yours, though! Anyhow, I hear you're the one to talk to about history, because I know nothing about this stones-cracked place. Do you have a few minutes?" Possibly more than a few? "Everyone says the journeymen are prosy bores and I can't just chase them down after dinner, besides."

"You're welcome," C'wlin's a touch amused at the eagerness in Telavi's ''Thanks''. Though icy blue eyes linger over Telavi's cap, he doesn't comment. His own pale hair is short enough that the whole matter of ''hair'' means very little to him -- nor is he passionate enough to go narking to the 'masters. "Hmmm. History." Now gaze is back to being sharply held on Telavi, eyebrows raising upwards. In his distraction, Athimeroth has wandered off to sew some chaos to his little anarchist heart's delight. "I have a moment or two, yes." Tone is perfectly enunciated, a bit formal, but that ''is'' C'wlin, who's initial shock at Impression has faded enough that the old ''harper'' emerges.

"It'll take more than a moment or two," Telavi says mournfully, and one of those moments is wasted in her looking at his elbow like she might just drag him along. "Let's get some dinner and get out of the chill? There's bound to be a private spot around here somewhere. Maybe you know that too. How long have you been in this sun-forsaken place, anyway?" Her comments, her questions, aren't as fast-paced as all that, though if they're at all measured like his, it's to a very different song.

"I have ''some'' time to spare," C'wlin allows, giving her a longer look before he takes that first step. "Dinner. Yes, I ''was'' on my way," he adds, dry humor delivered dead-pan style. "What is it that you want to know? I've been ''here'' for a few months. Have yet to really ''see'' the sun all that often." Brows lift. "It's ''cold'' here." As if she hasn't noticed already! "I'm hoping summer will prove to be better." And with that, he starts walking towards the caverns, hopefully with Telavi in tow.

"Conveniently enough, so was I," Telavi says with a sly glance and far more open humor. Hopefully it won't wreck his evening to not find her in tow, as such, so much as keeping easy pace with him with a buoyant stride. If she's been troubled by interrupted sleep like so many weyrlings, it doesn't show. "Summer is bound to be better, I've heard wonderful things of it." Now and again she does have to watch where she's going, but not very often. "Anything that they'll test us on and anything that'll get me in trouble if I don't know it. How's that for a mandate? I'm sure it won't take more than five sentences or so."

As long as she's walking, C'wlin is content, he was not trying to physically tow her along... more like, get moving. "Convenient how that worked out," humor spills forth in cool, smooth tenor'd tones, though the look he gives her is without malice. "Well, in five sentences I can tell you that Pern was round, there's a number of weyrs and the Holds have all the cards since Thread's gone away and we've come to an Interval." He pauses, just outside the living caverns, canting his head at her. "But I don't suppose ''that'' is quite what you meant, hmm?" Into the caverns, he goes. Hey, there's ''food'' there.

And Telavi certainly doesn't take umbrage, her low laugh spilling glissando instead. "All that. I'm sure all that will go over ''splendidly'' on exams." She ducks her head upon entering, not that it's in the least bit necessary. "Especially that ''was''. Tell me, what shape is it now?" She'll be quick if still choosy in gathering food, unlike her usual even choosier self, quick to sit and quick to eat and quick to be both done and ready.

C'wlin is choosier, slowly parceling out his dinner, and slowly making his way to the table to slowly find himself a seat. "What shape is what now?" Maybe he's lost the thread of the conversation. While eating, he'll study his fellow clutch mate, considering her for a long moment. "I will say that history is not something to be gulped down like dinner. It's something to be savored, like a fine wine. I can't teach you everything in five minutes, nor in a candlemark. If you want my help, I can help you but first you must help yourself." Elbows are planted on the table, eyes centered on the girl -- or maybe her hat -- and says, "You'll have to get some books I tell you to and read them. ''Really'' read them. Then we can go over the basics." A dry smile curves, "At least enough for you to pass, yes?"

Telavi certainly doesn't wait for him, though she has kept a nearby seat clear. "Pern," she reminds, a twinkle in her eye. "You said it ''was'' round." She does arch dark-blonde brows at him for his scrutiny, but otherwise lets him be, a girl who's used to being looked at. Her manners are neat enough, if not over-fussy, and not with the concentration that suggests she's putting effort in it. "You'll notice that we don't have time for fine wines around here, or at least they aren't wasting it on us. Tell me, C'wlin," and her eyes linger briefly, smilingly, on his elbows, "is this going to be more work than ''they'' would assign me to? Would you assign everyone to that much work, or is... this situation... just that special?" Neither is there malice in her tone, now.

"Ah well, there are those who believe that Pern might be flat, although I really don't think the idea will catch on," C'wlin's tone is hard to determine if he's joking or not. When she eyes his elbows, he merely leans more on them. Defiance. "I don't believe in doing anything half-ass, Telavi," he states, and no truer words have left his lips thus far, "So if you want to learn and you want ''me'' to teach you, then you'll put the work in." He pauses, then holds up one finger, "But I promise the lessons will be superior to what you could do on your own."

"Maybe after the next comet," and it seems that Telavi can do deadpan, too. She doesn't try to hide her growing smile behind her fork, her glass, or even an effort of will. "What good would it do me?" she invites. "What does a rider need to know about history, right now? You don't think that that would be better after graduation, when we have time for all ''sorts'' of things? Tell me, Harper, why it's all worth it."

"Maybe," C'wlin's tone is low, dry but with some definitive humor this time. Concentration drifts from conversation to dinner, slower at consumption than his fellow is. "Well I know what's worth it to ''me''. That I'd rather have knowledge than not. As for you?" He shrugs, "I'm not going to lobby for what you will have to decide for yourself on. ''I'' do not care whether you learn or not, but if you ''are'' going to learn, you might as well learn the ''best''. Why ''not'' be the best that you can be?" That is the ultimate question, and truly the boy is puzzled that anyone would not want to be the best person they can achieve to be.

With her plate cleaned, Telavi not generally being a picky eater once she's made up her mind what to take, she has less to occupy her hands. Nothing tethers her to the table except for words. As she considers his, her smile slips away, staying only in the impression of a dimple. "If history were my focus, I could see this more clearly. But, C'wlin, we have all ''sorts'' of things to learn. Oh, I'm Weyrbred, I know who ranks who or at least who's ''supposed'' to rank who," here she pulls a humorous face, "but we only have time for so much. Sometimes it's breadth, sometimes it's depth and... do ''not'' laugh," she says quickly, catching herself, laughing.

"True, but the Weyrlingmasters require this of us," C'wlin points out, standing. He gathers his plates, all the while containing his mirth behind thinly pressed lips, though his eyes glitter. "You cannot escape the breadth," pause, "depth," pause, "and..." Whatever he was about to say is left unsaid, hanging in humor-filled silence. "Figure out what you'd like, Telavi, but for now, I'd best be tending to Athimeroth. He's getting himself into trouble." This last is said with a roll of his eyes, before he lifts plates towards her in acknowledgement of farewell, and then meanders off. Okay, maybe not ''meander''. There's a decided ''oh shit'' bounce to his steps!

Telavi looks pleased: first the defiance, and now she's winkled out more humor. Except, "Trouble? We couldn't have ''that''." Is there wistfulness to her tone? Her glance follows him a few steps, but then another smile catches up with her and she slides closer to her other neighbor, busily catching up on very different news.

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 {{Log
 |type=Log
 | who = C'wlin, Telavi

@@ Line 4: / Line 4: @@
 | what = Telavi finds C'wlin in the bowl; they discuss the merits of learning history.
 | when = Day 9, Month 5, Turn 31
 | gamedate = 2013.03.28
 | quote = Tell me, Harper, why it's all worth it.