Difference between revisions of "Logs:Different Viewpoints"

>---< Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr(#634RJ) >------------------------<

  Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the     
  weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just 
  plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have   
  let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that:  
  two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in            
  particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the  
  most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond.                 
                                                                            
  Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to
  hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being   
  trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of       
  flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall 
  off.                                                                      
                                                                            
  An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former     
  weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl.          
                                                                            
  A layer of gray clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but   
  there is no rainfall today.                                               

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
  N'vad        M   44 6'1"  Slim, Ginger hair, Blue eyes                  3s 
  Quinlys      F   30 5'4"  Soft, Dark red hair, Blue eyes                0s
 ----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
                                Snowasis  Bowl                              
>-------------------------------------------< 4D 5M 36T I10, spring dusk >---<

With her only remaining weyrlings now senior weyrlings, and thus far less trouble, Quinlys is apparently making the most of a free afternoon - lounging, languid, with her legs stretched out over a spare seat across the table from where she's sitting. It's a little damp for the outdoors, really, and that leaves the red-haired bluerider largely on her own; it lets her close her eyes against the afternoon light, and focus, instead, on slow, contented sips from the contents of her glass.

Make that two red-haired blueriders with a free afternoon, though N'vad is not going to be attracting the same sort of looks for his, most likely. His dragon's back on his ledge, though, and he's been in the bar for no short amount of time before he makes his way out, cane in one hand, drink in the other. A long moment standing in the entrance, deep breath of fresh air. Maybe one lungful would have been plenty, were it not for that which is known for it's deleterious effect on cats. "Needed some time to yourself, then?" The irony of asking this seems to be lost on him.

Quinlys glances up, blue eyes opening, and then focusing in upon the other bluerider; she studies him for a long moment before agreeing, with a smile, "There's only so much time a person can put up with teenagers, don't you think? And luckily, they're all off on wing shadowing, so I can actually visit my own bar and not feel like I have to be on duty even when I'm not. But apparently I needed time away from crowds, too, so here I am." She gestures, idly, about the ledge, the leaden skies.

"Reckon I never had more'n a couple at a time," N'vad muses, helping himself to a nearby chair after eyeing it critically to determine whether the dampness is going to render it unsittable. Evidently not. "I," pause, "was a Wingleader, in Benden, once upon a time." Nobody is ever going to be allowed to not know this. "N'vad." The lesser fact of his identity, just a name. "Think I'd rather deal with Thread than a whole clutch of them at a time."

"Wingleaders," says Quinlys with a cheerful sigh. "I like wingleaders. Eventually, they take my weyrlings off me, and most of the time they're even happy to do so." Her smile edges towards a good-natured smirk, the kind that's self-aware. "Welcome to High Reaches, N'vad. Me, I much prefer them as weyrlings. I think I'd get bored, leading a wing. Mind you, it doesn't hurt that I end up with nice, big, relaxing gaps between clutches. It'd be much harder if we had thread, of course."

"Thank you kindly." N'vad raises his glass to the welcome, there, although it's not like he needs an excuse for the drink. "Everything was harder, with Thread, but it was easier, sometimes, too." Oh, there's that far-away Remembering When sort of look... but nothing much comes of it. Instead, a brisk shake of the head. And another drink. "Reckon I can't say as I ever found it boring, even after. Too much at stake, keeping prepared."

That lifted glass appears to remind Quinlys of her own; she takes a sip, swishing the liquid around in her mouth for a few moments before she swallows, watching the other bluerider all the while. "Mm," she says, neutral, though there's an arch to her brow even so. "Sure, I guess, there's the need to keep the skills alive for our however-many-generations'-descendants. But we also have to face reality: this is not a Pass, and those skills aren't going to keep us fed, not given how quickly holds forget."

A 'hmph' noise, there. And maybe a bit of an eyeroll. Did Quinlys think she was going to get this entire afternoon free of adolescent affectations? Maybe some people never totally grow out of those things. It's a stark contrast with him going on, all serious-toned, "It's not right now, but it wasn't two days before the comet, either. Until it happened, we had an excuse for thinking it couldn't happen. Reckon now that it's happened, don't got those excuses."

Quinlys' brow raises in answer to that noise, that eyeroll, though in truth, she seems heartily amused by it, an amusement that fades only slightly as N'vad continues. "I suppose," she allows, tapping one fingertip against her glass. "On the other hand, it has to come second to making sure we eat. Because bellies are going to need filling; that's a definite. That's why we have to balance it."

"Nnng, yeah, well." N'vad's eyebrows furrow as though he's just tasted something he wasn't sure of. Has to be washed down, clearly, though it doesn't entirely smooth the canyons on his forehead. "Not my business, those sorts of questions. Reckon if I wanted to do accounting, I would have ended up steward someplace." The tone does not suggest this would have been much of an outcome by his standards. "Still don't like it. Kept fed every other interval without the sort of nonsense I hear folks goin' on about now. Don't seem right, the way I see it. Maybe more comfortable in the short term, but one more comet, folks will get killed."

"I'm pretty sure people will get killed if there's another comet, whatever we do. I'm definitely not advocating that we-- I don't know, stop training people at all in that kind of thing. But. We have to be realistic. Whether or not it's been a problem in the past, we have had shorted tithes, a number of times." Quinlys exhales, glancing down at her drink, then drains it. "Anyway. I guess there's a reason we have different viewpoints and different people leading in different ways. It all works out. But for now... I got reports to write. It was nice to meet you, N'vad." She swings her legs down, in preparation for departure.

"Yeah, but..." How was N'vad going to end that sentence? It doesn't sound like even he really knows that, trailing off into a dissatisfied noise. "Just don't know. Reckon you're right. Still feels wrong." Wrong enough for that admission sandwiched in the middle there to sound like he had a very difficult time disgorging it. It doesn't sit comfortably in his mouth. "Reckon your work's not so different from what I remember. Some things in common. Have fun with that." Even when he finishes off his own drink, the reflective look he gives the glass suggests he'll shortly be headed back inside.

"Something like that," agrees Quinlys, with a bright enough smile. "See you around." And then she's gone, meandering off through the damp bowl, glass still in hand. Even if it is empty.