Difference between revisions of "Logs:When I'm Sixty-Four"

It's summer at High Reaches, finally, and there's confirmed leadership and a clutch on the way, and - it's going to be a lazy summer, in a way, Quinlys supposes. There won't be eggs for a long time, yet, and the barracks are more or less ready, so preparations aren't imminent. She's glad; it's nice to have a bit of a break, to let down her hair and just enjoy being young and attractive, with marks in her pockets and time up her sleeve.

Meara calls her into the office one morning, earlier than she'd like given the late hour she'd gotten home. The summer warmth has been doing good things for the greenrider's arthritis, but she still looks tired and old, across the table.

"I've made a decision," she announces, after she's busied herself with tea and cookies that Quinlys won't eat or drink (Quinlys wouldn't mind some klah with some of the whiskey from the bottom drawer, but she won't get that while Meara is around).

"A decision?"

"I know you've wanted me retired for a while now, Quinlys. No - don't argue. We both know it's true. You're too young and too ambitious to want to share the position, and while we work well enough as a team, there are things you'd do differently. And that's only reasonable."

Quinlys says nothing, though her nod acknowledges it all true enough: yes, all of these things. Yes and yes and yes.

"There's a new clutch on the way, and I admit, the very thought is making me feel tired. Hraedhyth's clutch will like as not be followed by one from Iesaryth, perhaps any day now, perhaps in a few months, a turn. Either way, I think it's likely you'll have two at once, and at different stages of their training. I'm done."

"You're retiring?" The words are blurted out before Quinlys can properly phrase them - politely phrase them.

At least Meara seems amused by that. "When I'm sixty-four."

Quinlys' brows furrow. She blinks. She's not sure what, exactly, that means.

The greenrider takes pity on her. "Three sevens, Quinlys. In three sevens. In the meantime... I think we have a lot to do, don't you? Tying up the loose ends, getting you ready to do this on your own. No doubt you'll want to redecorate."

Quinlys hesitates.

"No doubt there's somewhere else you'd like to put that bottle of yours."

Meara, abruptly, grins.

Quinlys, abruptly, finds herself doing likewise.

Maybe she didn't need that holiday quite so much, after all.