Difference between revisions of "Logs:Poetic"

That Telavi, not giving Lilabet any notice before whisking her away! It would be less dramatic if one accounted for the time Tela spent waiting until the journeyman said her class would be done, though at least it wasn't so much cooling her heels as pattering about and investigating all the nooks and crannies of the sitting room she'd been allotted; even the hangings had to pass inspection, or rather, what might be behind them. Now the greenrider turns to greet Lilabet; she might look tired to one who knows her, even though the eggs that her knot alludes to haven't yet hatched, but she's smiling. "Look at you."

Had there been notice, Lilabet might have taken the time to do something more interesting with her hair, though she's still stylish enough in today's outfit. "Telavi," is so, so pleased, and if she pauses to twirl, just once, to allow the greenrider to see her from all angles, that's permitted, right? It's as she comes to a halt again, with the careful, graceful turn of one foot that she studies the greenrider. "It's good to see you."

Telavi sparkles that smile back to her, at the twirling Lilabet's not too much a teenager for; "And you. More of a dancer, too! I wanted to come; I won't have time for ages, probably," with a bit of a moue for that. Taking a seat, if on the edge of the chair, "Have some treats, tell me what's new. I suppose," carefully, "you'll have heard?"

Lilabet bites her lip, that brighter enthusiasm dissipating in the wake of rather more serious topics. She sits, too, sinking into her chair with a straight back, both hands drawn towards her lap; it's the kind of thing her mother would do. "Yes," she says. "I wasn't in Master Suireh's class when she heard, but-- I heard about that. Are you-- it must be awful, Telavi. I'm so sorry."

Telavi glances away, then down to her hands and back to Lilabet's face; "I could pretend it's not hard," she says frankly, "but I won't. Do they... gossip about it much, here? She was in class when they told her? That's dreadful," and for once it's not the tongue-in-cheek exaggeration of the word.

Lilabet's nod, and the accompanying, "It is," is solemn and sober, those big blue eyes studying Telavi as she makes her answer. "I understand. I don't remember when my father died, but I do remember Aunty Delifa, and how hard that was for my mother." She could mention H'kon's sister, too, but she won't; that would mean mentioning H'kon. "It will get better. And you'll be busy, soon, won't you? With all those weyrlings." She's not-- quite-- wistful.

"Of course," Telavi says, and bites her lip. She doesn't ask after this Delifa person; she doesn't even complain about all the sleep she's not going to have; she just looks back at the girl, searchingly. Her eyes are greener than hers, today. "Lilabet? You're nearly sixteen, I remember. Has... anyone asked you if you want to Stand?"

The question, if not the searching eyes, surprises the harper. She lifts her chin, the answer coming to her lips immediately: "They haven't. But no, not yet. I haven't made up my mind if I do want to give up my apprenticeship for it, or for anything. And there's still so much I need to learn. So: no. Though I appreciate the thought."

The greenrider nods, not surprised exactly, but-- "You should know," she says, "if you don't already, that there's a wing forming at High Reaches: a special one, for riders who were or I guess maybe are now crafters, to focus on their..." a small smile forms in lieu of a better word, "crafting. K'zin's all excited about it," and that's a different sort of moue. "Apparently they're going to talk to the crafts? about doing something a little more formal? which sounds exciting for people who did get into crafts in the first place."

Lilabet tracks that reaction to mention of K'zin, but is clearly more focused upon the rest of it; it gives her pause. Having said that, "I'm not sure how much use a harper who writes epics would be to the Weyr, though. And that's what they'd want, isn't it? Useful crafters." It is, perhaps, a deflating thought. In any case, "I don't know that I'd like to Stand at High Reaches, anyway. It's for the best if I'm not there." A hard, teenage sniff.

'Well, we have a couple of starcrafters," and clearly Telavi hasn't been convinced of their usefulness in Interval, "and that herder and a baker?" who maybe bode better. But then she is giving Lilabet a look. Not yet a look, but, wide-eyed, "Why?"

Another sniff. "I'm not talking to H'kon," she answers, primly. "Because he's an ass who worries about girls more than he worries about boys and thought he ought to interview my boyfriend." It's a little over-dramatic. "And my mother isn't much better with her entreaty to make peace." The Worst.

"But--" leads to, bright-eyed, "Interview your boyfriend? I can just see poor Damir! And H'kon looks at him and looks and gets that expectant thing going so Damir has to fill the space--" Even other people's boyfriends can distract Telavi when she wants to be.

"Yes." To everything. It's enough to make Lilabet straighten further, to roll her shoulders back in a gesture of defiance and determination. "And if I wasn't a woman," not girl, not this time, "he wouldn't. It's not fair, and so I'm not talking to him. The ass."

Telavi, so not speaking for H'kon. In fact, "Ugh. That's just like a man," she sighs. "How long are you going to not talk to him? I can bring back a message for just your mother, you know, to remind him what he's missing. Or one of the kids?" Which Lilabet clearly is not!

"Forever," has all the force a teenager can muster-- all that she can imagine given the length of her life so far. She relents a little, though, and admits, "I don't know. I miss him, a little. Except that I don't, and he sucks." Of her mother, she makes no comment, but the others? "I have a book for Raija. Could you take that to her?" That will definitely work.

"I would be delighted to," Telavi says, with a teasing glance at the door. "And, how are your epics coming along?" Though she hadn't seemed stiff before, now she relaxes enough to nibble on a biscuit. "Or-- things. Not dead-people things."

Lilabet had forgotten the snacks on offer; Telavi's lead, however, is an excellent reminder, and she leans forward to pick up her own. "Things..." a lengthy exhale. "Things are good. My epics are coming along, and Damir is good, and... it's difficult to get privacy as an apprentice. I know we're not supposed to have it, for a reason, but..."

"But," Telavi agrees, sympathy in her sigh. "You always hear about apprentices sneaking off to, I don't know, the drumheights-- but cold!-- or the archives-- but quiet!-- or the random storeroom or empty classroom, but I suppose all the masters were apprentices too once, weren't they?"

"The practice rooms," Lilabet is quick to supply. "Because they're supposed to be relatively sound-proof, even if they're not, not properly, but..." It's an exaggerated but. "But that's the thing: they remember, and I'm pretty sure Master Suireh always kept an eye out for me in particular." Family relationships; so unfortunate. "Although I think H'kon's brother might have encouraged me. It's--" A sigh. "It'll be turns and turns before I'm a Journeyman."

"H'kon's brother?" Telavi, so confused. "Not in some... strange icky sort of way? And-- that long, really? It seems like you've been here such a long time, and learned so much, too."

"He's a Journeyman here," is Lilabet's explanation. "He's been very helpful, professionally." Not, it seems, in an icky way, though she doesn't specifically explain. "Another four turns at least. That's the problem with apprenticing at twelve; you're still not likely to walk before twenty. All those turns. Except, of course, that I need those turns, if I'm to be as good as I'd like to be. There's so much I need to learn. How can you possibly teach people enough to be riders in only one turn?"

Telavi's nodding, intrigued; "Professionally?" she's curious about first. Then, "That is too bad. You'd think at least you could get out sooner! For us, it's mostly-- we give them the basics and then it's like the wing that they're in, it trains them up the way it wants them. So you don't have to undo anything, you know, if there are specifics? Plus it's more... 'follow directions,' 'look out for this or that,' 'this is how you chew firestone except don't use up too much of it because it's a waste,' and general on-the-job work instead of theory."

Lilabet doesn't quite manage an answer to that first; she's too caught up in the second, in tapping one finger thoughtfully to her mouth as she digests the information. "I suppose that makes sense," she allows. "In a way, we have our own on-the-job work, only it's plainly considered preferable for us to remain apprentices throughout." Which draws her mouth into a dissatisfied twist.

Tela doesn't follow up on the semi-uncle this time; rather, with a sigh, "Plainly. It takes so much time to get around the rules that would be better used for studying," that last with a hint of impishness. Though suddenly, consideringly, "How are you with finding things in your Records by now?"

Lilabet's smile is, in answer, utterly impish. But that questions surprises her, and moves her immediately to lean forward, intent. "I'm good. What do you need?"

Hesitation is there in Tela's expression, nothing so obvious as biting her lip, but a certain lingering of her gaze upon the apprentice harper. She might speak; she doesn't; she does. "It might be one thing or another, now and then. Even something so-- boring, I suppose, as a journeyman's posting, some Turns back."

By contrast, Lilabet has no hesitation, not any. "I can do that," she says, straightening and drawing her shoulders back, all over again. "I'm often in the archives, looking for details. You can't write epics without knowing them, don't you see?" And, "Nothing is boring, if it's needed for a reason. Every little piece comes together."

"Lovely," Telavi declares, relieved. "Maybe someday, someone will write an epic about us, sitting here, talking-- or at least about what came from that-- it could happen!" except then she laughs; perhaps not so much. Still... "But if they do, we should at least finish the biscuits for dramatic closure. Or is it better," Lilabet is after all the expert, "if we leave a crumb or two?"

Lilabet's eyes shine, but she's being good: she is not asking more questions. "Oh, we'd best leave a crumb or two," she decides. "It's poetic, to leave something for the tunnelsnakes, or at least the very junior apprentices who'll clean up afterwards on the chore roster." She reaches for the plate again, ready to do her bit.

Telavi is already nodding, delighted in her agreement, now that that Lilabet isn't one of the juniormost of the junior: poetry as teamwork! She won't even Search Damir on her way out.