Difference between revisions of "Logs:Legacy"

The old storage room at the end of the hallway is still there, if somewhat less used than before, even though its temporary occupant has fled. It's still filled with random boxes and sports the crack down the wall from the same event that caused the cave in. What's new, and altogether different, is the weyrling perched between a series of boxes, sitting cross-legged on the floor, with papers and hides strewn out across the floor in front of her. Farideh's trying to balance a couple things on her legs, and holds a book in one hand, though she's busy chewing on the nail of her other thumb. Her hair's kind of a mess and she has dark circles under her eyes; she's definitely got the look of someone exhausted, as she rightfully should be. But here, she's sought solace, as she tries to study away from the barracks and the action in the lower caverns on an evening after dinner.

A chitinous clicking prefaces the arrival something or someone, not that these halls are particularly empty all the time. The sound could be cause for alarm - what if it's a giant bug - but a few moments later it's just Faryn coming around the corner, her hands in her pockets as she strolls through the caverns. The sound? She's clicking her tongue thoughtfully at intervals, and it echoes back to her when she leans around corners and into doors, as if she's looking for some thing or place and can't remember exactly where it is. Whatever she's looking for isn't Farideh, though, and she pulls up short to examine the goldrider quietly. "Weird place to work," she observes, tipping her head to the boxes and the nook she's carved.

Whether Farideh hears the sound before the herder makes her presence known may be a secret forever, because it's only then that she glances up from her study material, brows drawn together over too-serious eyes. "Is it? I don't think most people ever come back here. It's so-- removed." She flicks a suspicious glance over the other girl, before slumping forward, one elbow settling on one knee. "What are you doing back here?" Her tone seems to imply that she has a reason, but Faryn, not so much; not that her expression is unkind, simply wary.

Faryn's hands come up in defense at that tone, and the look. "Looking for something," she answers mysteriously, "but I get lost down here, all the damned time. I think it might be back the way I came, since I'm pretty sure I made a wrong turn." A shrug for her mishap, and she certainly doesn't seem terribly bothered to just be wandering. "You looking to be removed from things, then?" she asks in the face of that wary expression and extremely warm welcome.

"It is hard to think beyond-- everything, when there are sixteen other people and sixteen other dragons staring back at you." Farideh looks slightly embarrassed by her admission, but it's said and there's no taking it back. "It's just loud. Sometimes, I want for quiet." She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, and flicks a look between Faryn and her papers. "I thought it was bad enough in the candidate barracks, and there were certainly more people, but it seems ten times as loud and they expect you to study through it all."

"Ah," she says, as if Farideh has imparted some deep knowledge upon her. It doesn't look like Faryn's going anywhere, though, so if she's looking for complete silence, the goldrider is out of luck. It seems Faryn isn't entirely convinced of her wrong turn, and presently she steps closer to one of those random stacks of boxes, reaching out to open the top and check out the contents, just to be sure. "I'm sorry. I've mostly been thinking it's too damned quiet, and you're having the complete opposite." Curious, then, "What are you studying?"

While the herder is busy investigating the boxes and their contents, Farideh is busy studying her, quietly, until she's roused from that activity by the other girl's question. "Everything. Nothing. I don't even know anymore. Placement exams are coming and I would prefer not to be-- at the end. I won't have top marks like R'van, but neither do I want to be last. I haven't studied anything of any significance in a while, and I know nothing about local history. Then, they want us to know dragon anatomy and--" She sighs, shaking her head a bit. "It's a lot. At once. How are you adjusting back to apprentice life?"

Faryn is arm deep in one of the boxes, rifling through its contents. Something jingles, and she pulls it up. Just a set of kitchen spoons, all attached together with a ring. She drops it back in. "You'll get it," she says, apparently assured by Farideh's abilities, if distantly so. "Tests are stupid, anyways. Some people just ...test better, even if they aren't very smart. I knew a girl who was smarter than anyone with the canines and when she had to test she failed the first time. Every time. It's just the pressure? It's okay to not do great on them, though. You'll get better." As for herself, Faryn has a shrug. "It's barely an adjustment," she acknowledges. "It felt drastic, until...a sevenday ago, maybe. But compared to you guys - compared to you - well."

"Do you know who the fourth Weyrwoman of High Reaches was?" Farideh makes a face, her nose scrunched up and her lips quirked in distaste; that shows her displeasure for the topic. "But, I don't want to be at the bottom." She clasps her hands in her lap then, and goes back to watching Faryn, thoughtfully. "Will you try to advance to Journeyman? Or is that harder to do as a--" One hand unlinks, to wave flippantly in the air, and when she's done it goes back to her lap. "Are you disappointed? I know you didn't know if you wanted to Stand, and you did, and, it went as you originally thought. Didn't it? So you must be." Curious green-brown eyes regard Faryn, though there's no shame in her face for her assumptions.

"No. But that's not my job, either. It is yours, or it will be. If you're at the bottom, it just means you need to be taught. But you can already read and write, can't you? So you're ahead of the curve. I actually bet Olrina's on the bottom; she's nice, though." In lieu of being clever. Faryn climbs atop another box, minces across two others, and then reaches on tip-toes for another that bears no resemblance to the first she rummaged through. She might just be being nosy. "As a what?" Faryn wants to know, sparing a look and a raised eyebrow. "I've gotten permission to test, yes. I have to consider some future, and if it's one that has my own room, that would be nice." Faryn doesn't look at Farideh as she answers the last, intent as she is in getting that small, precarious box down. "Of course I was," she says. "Am. I still am. And I'm channeling it into doing something. I'm...not happy to go back to what feels like nothing."

The box shifting and digging earns a little frown from Farideh, but she reserves judgement on the other girl's actions for now. "Olrina is as dumb as dirt. I don't want to test as badly as her, but-- I suppose you're right." Mollified, to some extent, she purses her lips in thought. "You could always stand again, for the next clutch, or you could become my personal body guard. I'm going to need it if I intend to stay alive, here," where the here is High Reaches; her tone is mildly amused, though there may be some truth backing her words. "Will you go back to the Hall? You'll have to, right? It will be a pity, but if you're in Keroon, perhaps I'll go visit. Perhaps."

Faryn's sudden, "Gotcha," announces her acquisition, and she steps down carefully, all the better to sit with the box in her lap. "This is just a random storeroom, right?" she asks, perfunctory, even as she cracks the lid open to take a peek. Her sigh is long suffering, either for the contents or Farideh's words. "You won't," she says. "You could probably set a rock down to test for you and get a better grade. It's a little sad." She is quiet, looking through contents and setting them out: a small leather-bound book; a nautical compass; a candle-holder with wax still dried on the bobeche. She snorts a small laugh. "I think you guys are too worried about dying. And even I can't protect you from natural disasters." Her mouth quirks off to the side. "To test, yes. And to walk." She sighs. "Polis hates it here, though, and he has four more turns posted. He said he'd trade me for anything. If it's okay with Kierna."

"It was-- is just a storeroom. This was one of Drex's rooms when he was still here, which they're not, anymore," Farideh notes, eyes sweeping from the ceiling all the way back down to Faryn's box. "Too worried? After five goldriders have died here since the start of the Interval? I hardly doubt that's being paranoid, and, at least two of those were purposeful, even if those candidates didn't mean to kill Azaylia, they meant to set things on fire. And Iolene--" Her face pulls, her lips twitching. "What if someone decides I'm an Igen interloper? Or Irianke? And decides to take a note out of that brownrider's book? Poison us? Stab us? Throw us off a ledge?" With a shake of her head, she sets her chin on her upraised fist, that's still resting on her knee, and slants Faryn a sideways glance. "Keroon has nicer weather."

"Oh. Hm. Interesting." Rummaging and Keroon are both forgotten as Faryn brings her eyes up, listening to Farideh's worries, however invalid she feels they are. She sighs, setting the box aside, taking up the compass just for something to occupy her hands. She opens her mouth. Closes it, her brows knitting. Her frown is small and considering, eyes watching the goldrider carefully. "I don't know what to say to make you feel better," she finally admits. "I don't know what will make any of you feel better. I understand why you're concerned. And I understand that you didn't really think this was going to happen to you. You're a weyrwoman, though, or you will be soon. Maybe even the senior. People are already betting on whether Roszadyth or Niahvth will rise first. You're ahead in my ledger, for what it's worth." That's right, no pressure. "What I'm getting at is that you're not going to be able to lead anyone if you're constantly worried about...that. Dying. And it doesn't matter now, where you're from; you Impressed here, and you've got a Reaches queen being taught Reaches ways."

"I don't need you to make me feel better. I know I have to come to terms with it and I know that I'm a Reachian weyrwoman now, but that doesn't make it sit any better. Knowing that your chances of dying, in a horrific way, are high is a lot to swallow. Maybe I won't ever be ready to die. Maybe I'll fight until the end. Maybe I will die a peaceful death in my sleep when I'm ninety, but--" But. "That comes along with all of the other responsibility." It's her comment about Roszadyth possibly rising first that makes her head lift, stubborn chin jerking up. "You'll lose that bet. There's absolutely no way. It will be Niahvth. They know, they say. The dragons know." And that's that, as Farideh starts shuffling her things together, papers getting tucked into a messy pile. "Thanks. For listening, though. You'll be fine, too."

"I'm sorry, Farideh. Nobody's ready. Even Edyis didn't seem ready for that brown of hers. I'm sorry you signed up for something you got and it's too much, but I think you're giving yourself too little credit. I think you're putting too much weight on how you'll die, or when, or if. Stop and think for a minute, about living, maybe. About what you'll do with your life and your time and that beautiful dragon of yours until you do. Do you want to leave some legacy of a terrified weyrwoman who barely left her ledge or saw people for fear of dying? Who hid in caverns? Or do you want people to think you're as good as those who came before you. Another Lessa, maybe, leading a weyr when it really needs it?" She lets the question hang, then adds, lighter, "If you want to bet on her not going first, there's room in my ledger. You'd win a lot, the odds are already 60 to 1." A sly smile crosses her face. "Two dragons knew I should Stand too, and fat lot of good that was." But she's waving her hand as she stands up, trying to stop Farideh gathering her things. "Don't, don't. I'll go. You stay here in your hidey hole, doing your thinking and studying and brooding about the brevity of life."

The shuffling and gathering of things stops, fingers still, and Farideh's eyes lift to Faryn, eyebrows raised. She's silent while she listens, largely unmoved except a faint flicker of her brows at mention of legacy. In the end, there's a succinct nod of her head, "I might just take up the bet. I'll find you another time to set down it down in the ledger. Against Roszadyth." Her posture easy back somewhat, her eyes dropping to the information still spread out in front of her, if a little more tidily. "They knew, just not when," is offered in a mumble, followed by a sigh, before she's scrubbing at her forehead and grabbing the topmost paper that has illustrations as well as words on it. Back to studying she will go.

Brushing the seat of her trous, Faryn reaches down to replace the items in the box, put the lid on, and tuck it under her arm. "Your lack of confidence is astounding," she teases lightly. "You know where to find me, if you do. Good luck with your studies. And everything else." If she overhears that last bit, the woman doesn't acknowledge it; she's moving out, disappearing around a corner different than the one that brought her, and her clicking starts up again, tracking her progress all the way down the hall, fainter and fainter and then silent.