Difference between revisions of "Logs:Balance and Equilibrium"

Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

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.

Afternoon has just begun to creep into evening, not that Rukbat has had any success in warming the Weyr today. The constant chill only grows more oppressive, the Snowasis not due for a surge in activity until after the living caverns has had its share. There are open seats at the bar, one of which is occupied by a weyrwoman attempting to simulate socialization. There's a mug-of-something that marks borders of her workspace: a mix of papers and hides spread out in front of her, one of which is being marked with her rounded, bubbly script. In her usual blue dress, her hair is not in buns this time, but swept into a one-sided braid that hangs in front of a shoulder.

D'kan escapes from the dismal day, striding in from the patio. He makes a beeline for the bar, only realizing who the blue-dressed woman is when he's about to take a seat two barstools down. The weyrling awkwardly waves to Azaylia, complete with an uncertain, lopsided smile. He quietly requests a hot cider, then eases onto the chair. "Always working," he comments to the weyrwoman lightly. "Even in a place like this?" The question has the obvious tones of a lighthearted tease.

The end of Azaylia's stylus is brought up for a thoughtful nibble, pinched expression smoothing after a moment, hand lowering as she finishes a thought. Only then does she notice the awkward wave, eyes sliding over before she suddenly straightens, "Kaed'kan!" There's surprise as she stumbles over his names, nervous laughter following, "Sorry. Yes. If I didn't, I'd never leave my weyr. "D'kan." Said warmly, if only to prove that she can, "You can join me, if you'd like? I just finished this report." Sounds as though she's due for a break anyway, eyes sweeping the bar to locate her long forgotten drink. The mug of cider is brought to her lips, still tasty despite the fact that it's cooled off by now.

The awkward smile is left behind as D'kan is bolstered by the reception. "To be honest," he says in a lowered voice, leaning toward Azaylia just slightly, "always found it easier to concentrate in places like this, myself." He sits up properly again to accept his own cider from the barkeep, nodding his thanks as he wraps his fingers around the mug. "Ah, the joys of reports. So, uh... is that what I have to look forward to, once my rider apprenticeship is over?" he asks as he raises the mug to his lips, not quite hiding a cheeky grin.

At the weyrling's lean, Azaylia's eyes widen just a hint while her smile remains. She may have been expecting him to say something worthy of that lowered voice, soft laugh somewhat relieved, "It depends. In an hour or two, I think this place will be too crowded to concentrate in." While she's talking, her hands take care to sort and gather her paperwork without taking her eyes off of D'kan for more than a second. "Not unless... Kazavoth," Thank you Hraedhyth, "Is secretly a gold. You'll have dawn sweeps and drills to look forward to once you graduate." The weyrwoman sounds almost jealous, lips playfully skewed for only a moment.

"All the more reason to show up now," D'kan replies with an easy shrug as he turns to lean an elbow on the bar while facing Azaylia. "Ah, well that's a relief. Because flying over ages of empty land for the chance there might be some activity isn't boring at all." He goes so far as to wink at her this time before taking another careful sip of piping hot cider. "Do you and Hraedhyth ever go on sweeps? Firestone drills? Just for the fun of it?"

Azaylia's mug is brought closer after she's done sorting her work, one tall pile with different clusters in a straight-to-sideways pattern. It'll do, until she's able to put each document in its proper place, "I enjoyed it." She offers, even before he's able to ask his question. She clarifies only after checking to see that there's a mouthful left of her own cold cider, "We used to. We flew with Glacier for a while, before..." Her eyes slide away, and she takes a moment to compose herself. "I thought, when Hraedhyth was close to rising that I'd end up leading Aurora. The queen's wing." As that is so very not the case, "There's not much time, now." She pushes her empty mug away, body turning towards the weyrling, "Enough about my work. How are you? Kazavoth? I never did get to congratulate you, by the way. So, congratulations."

D'kan's easygoing fa?ade diminishes slightly when Azaylia looks away. His finger tips tap lightly against his mug for a moment before he takes another sip, still not quite warm enough to risk setting it aside. "We're all right," he answers quickly, head tilting to the side just a degree. "No more premature hunting mishaps." He gives her a brief, shallow grin. "And thank you. I've been meaning to thank you, actually. For asking me to stand. Seems your instincts were right on the mark. Or marks, if you're a betting type." The grin grows slightly, then fades. "So, when you thought you were going to lead Aurora, did you want it?" Just tossed in casually, but not.

"Right." Azaylia murmurs, reminded. "I was actually very surprised when I heard what had happened with Arekoth. Not that I know the dragon... or rider that well." She admits, looking pensive as to the source of such surprise if that's the case. His gratitude catches her off guard, "Oh. I..." It's hard to keep the flattery from her smile, "I don't bet on hatchings, no. They're too precious. I'm so very glad Kazavoth found you on the sands, though. And a brown. I've always liked browns." Though it's obvious she means it, the easy assumption is that she likes all dragon colors. It's not a lie. Her lips begin to straighten as D'kan's grin fades, "I... don't know. I was scared. I didn't want to quit Glacier, but I understood why I had to. Why I thought I had to." Hands fold in her lap, it's a moment longer before she admits, "I don't know if I wanted it, but I was ready to do what I had to for the Weyr." There's some strain in her voice, reality a reminder that it isn't what she's done now, is it?

D'kan gives a single-shouldered shrug for the bit about Arekoth, replying, "It was just the one incident. Kaz is lucky he's so young. The hide healed pretty well. It's just a tiny bit lighter where the wherry got him, so..." The weyrling trails off while staring at his cider, then takes a larger drink now that it's cooled off somewhat. "I don't take to betting, personally. Betting on a winner means you're betting on losers, too. Never much liked that part. Cards are one thing, people are another." He sets the mug aside and looks over at Azaylia again. "Not to mention the dragons. I didn't even fathom that part until Kazavoth." He falls silent when she starts to explain about Glacier and the rest, then remains silent for a few beats longer, calmly contemplating before he speaks up again. "You would have had to move on to a weyrwoman's duties and Aurora no matter what, right? Does the 'why' change just because the duties have divvied up as they have? It's still for the good of the Weyr." That is quite possibly Kazavoth's influence just then.

"I'm glad he's so hearty." Azaylia sounds it, relief obvious in her gentle voice. "I've never thought of betting like that. But it's a better reason." It sounds as though the weyrwoman might adopt it, head tilted thoughtfully as she looks to the brown weyrling. When the 'tender comes back around and offers a refill, she politely declines. Then it's back to D'kan, "Maybe not. If Iesaryth had had a proper Leadership flight, I might have stayed in Glacier. I was balancing my duties and only did an occasional sweep... though there had been more weyrwomen at the time." It's certainly something to think about, bringing in her lower lip for a pensive chew. "Juniors have that kind of freedom. I'll miss it." Not that she sounds unhappy, simply resigned.

"Maybe in a few Turns, there will be another junior," D'kan replies, though his uncertain tone just reinforces how inexperienced he is, as far as those situations go. "Maybe Aishani could find some other assistants. Though people will just scream favoritism, I'm sure." His smile is half in grimace as he leans an elbow on the bar. "Balance means finding your center, and keeping your equilibrium. Maybe there's a center for you that you haven't found yet, somewhere between weyrwoman and rider." At this point, though, he's definitely just guessing, and his focus has started to slip, including a couple glances toward the bowl. He finishes his cider and stands, apologizing quietly. "I'd better get going. Kazavoth's getting restless, and we're supposed to meet with G'mli soon for another lesson in how to be a brownrider." There's a true grin there, and a touch of somewhat casual salute. Real salutes require someone more serious than D'kan.

Azaylia looks startled, "That's how I felt then." She rushes out a response, possibly before even really letting his words sink in. "If there's another junior, she'll be my junior. I'm not leaving the Weyr like... like this." As if she has a say on what the future might hold. While her words are barely louder than a murmur, the woman's quiet voice sounds a touch horrified. It's in the time his focus begins to slip that she composes herself, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to think that I don't want to do my duties. I do. I'm sure there is a balance." As the brown weyrling stands, she turns mostly towards the bar, though the shy smile is aimed at him, "Enjoy your lesson. And give Kazavoth a scritch for me? Or whatever he likes." Every dragon is different. For now, the goldrider is aiming to get at least one more page done before the after-dinner rush.