Difference between revisions of "Logs:Lessons in Teambuilding"

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.

It's raining heavily, outside, washing away all the accumulated snow and generally making things pretty miserable-- but at least it's nice and toasty warm inside the Snowasis, where the early evening crowd is beginning to gather. Right up at the bar, Quinlys sits on one of the stools, legs swinging idly back and forth as she converses - cheerfully, and with enthusiasm - with the man behind the bar. He slides a mug across towards her, and she beams, saying, "Thanks. After drilling out in that rain-- well, we're all soaked through." She doesn't look it, though: whatever her words suggest, she's been safely indoors for some time.

Craptastic weather in the 'Reaches? Say it's not so! Apparently Alida is mostly unaffected by such, as she's stalking into the Snowasis without any other cover besides a heavy sweater and thick pants, her heavy boots set lightly upon stone flooring as the candidate ducks and wades through the masses of people. Looking all over the place in search of a place to sit that she likes, green eyes scrape over Quinlys, and the bluerider is given a lift of hand and a nod. Odd.

It is odd, and it's enough that Quinlys - whose sweeping gaze around the room comes at exactly the right moment to catch that nod - returns the wave with enthusiasm, beckoning the Candidate towards her. It seems like more than a casual thing, too: there's something intense about it, as though she's bursting to say something. "Alida!" she calls. "C'mere. Need to talk to you. Let me buy you a drink."

Caught between her usual retecince and some curiosity - and a basic need for a little companionship - Alida shrugs, then alters her stride to take her over to Quinlys, a faint smile and bob of head offered to the other woman before the candidate inquires, "So what'm I in trouble for now?" Cue a wintry whisper of a half-smirk before the holder inserts her frame a foot and a half or so away from the bluerider at the bar.

"Actually," says Quin, shaking her hair over her shoulder in a gesture that is anything but professional, "You're not. This time, anyway. I heard about what happened, by the way, and I hope they gave you a proper roasting. You didn't see poor Amareth when she hatched." She flags down the bartender again with a wave of her hand, but it's Alida who has the most of her attention. "But Aza-- Weyrwoman Azaylia isn't holding a grudge, apparently. She wants us to get a head start on the self-defense classes we teach in weyrlinghood, and she suggested you might be interested in helping us out. It's kind of your thing, isn't it?"

If Alida feels any more embarrassment or ire over that incident, she doesn't show such at all, the palest-blonde only nodding dourly, then looking up over to the bartender while Quinlys speaks. It's the content of the other femme's words that gets the candidate's attention again, those calculating greens shifting back to more present company, concentrating upon the Weyrlingmaster. Only after Quin's done speaking and 'lida's taken a few moments to think that the blonde answers low, "As long as you understand I can't give away any craft secrets...why not." Smirk.

Quinlys makes the bartender wait a few more seconds as she considers Alida, waiting for that answer. Finally, she turns her head to grin at him, saying, "What do you want, Alida? Wine? Beer? Cider? Put it on my tab, please." She seems pleased by the younger woman's answer, nodding vigorously to acknowledge what has been said. "Right, right, of course," she says, picking up her own mug. "No craft secrets. It's really just basic stuff: hand-to-hand, no weapons. I believe the suggestion came from one of your good friends." She's teasing. Probably. "Wakizian? Old buddy of mine. Well. Of my brother, anyway."

Hey, she got offered wine! Given that the stuff is usually too expensive for her meager coin to purchase... "Wine, please. White, fruity." No, she's not a snob when it comes to the stuff, apparently. With her order placed with the 'tender, almost all of Alida's concentration remains upon Quinlys, though her eyes to shift to scan all about on occasion. Habit. "Basics 'r easier than people think...though it takes a willing trainee, as well." Cue the thought of Nicky trying to judo-toss someone, and a faint smirk eases over the former-guard's features for a second. Whazzat? Good friends? A ribald little snort scoots from the younger woman, a sudden looks of dark humor flowing over her features for a few moments before she replies, "Does that kid ever know when to shut up?" A faint hint of both ire and bleak humor scoots around within those rich greens.

Quinlys can't pinpoint the cause of that smirk, but she seems amused by it all the same, the corners of her mouth twitching cheerfully. Off goes the bartender to fetch the aforementioned wine, as Quin spins idly on her stool. "Well, anyone who Impresses has to learn, so it's worth their while to think about it, at least. We'll see how they go. That kid, as you say," it's Quinlys' turn to smirk, "is-- well, maybe a little irrepressible. Maybe he pushes buttons, but... If you Impress, and he Impresses, you'll be teammates, Alida. It's kind of like a family, in the barracks. You have to let people in, because otherwise, they won't have your back, and that's useless in a team."

Though she can be quite the headstrong punk at times, Alida *does* know how and when to listen, and she does so when Quinlys speaks with a concentration not typically found in people of her age, greens locking with blues so that everything the bluerider has to offer can be sussed out thoroughly. "Indeed..." is commented by the blonde, though whether to Quin's first or second statments is unknown. As for a spirit of family...a soft inhale and puffed-out exhale is given before the guard murmurs rather thoughtfully, "It took me Turns growin' up around my mates t'learn that kinda' trust. I learned not ta' give it easily, 'r often." Cue a look that drifts off into the past for a few moments, finally refocusing back on the other woman. "I'm hearin' what you say, don't get me wrong." A lift of two fingers to her forehead tries to rub away some sudden tension. "Yeah...I know." Grunt. "For something that's not at all guaranteed," - Impression - "...you folk sure expect a helluva lot." Again comes that odd bit of a smirk-smile from the holder; she knows the irony of what she's saying.

The bartender slides a glass of wine across the bar towards Alida, and Quinlys leans back, nursing her mug and looking thoughtful. "I won't argue that," she says, calmly, with a nod. "It is a lot, and there isn't a guarantee. Impression's worth it, though. And I totally get the whole thing about not trusting people, I do. But--" Now, she squares her shoulders again, meeting the other woman's gaze squarely. "You don't need to tell your life story, or become best buds with people. Trust can't be faked; I get that. All I'm saying is that you need to try. Be superficially social, sometimes. Because otherwise, we'll have to force it, if you do Impress, and that's hard for everyone. And... I get it, that there's probably stuff in your past that makes this all hard. But you're not the only one. Taikrin was a convict, you know. But she did her time and got clean; she's still got issues, but she's trying." It's a long speech, and the realisation of that, by the end, seems to embarrass her: her cheeks turn pink. "You're talking to me, though, and I'm glad of that. It's a start."

Sipping of that wine with slow relish after it arrives, Alida looks as though she might break in on Quinlys' words in spots, but the younger femme always quiets back down, lets the Weyrlingmaster speak her piece. Finally, "No; didn't know. Sounds about right..." of Taikrin, something in the holder's face going both harder, and yet softer for a moment. Sip. "Tryin'..." Nod, grunt...though the 'force' comment gets a level, cool look that brooks no tolerance from the guard, her suddenly cool eyes silently commenting to the bluerider, 'I dare you.' A sudden little shrug and she moves past the small glitch in the conversation, and the young woman murmurs, "I think I'll be talkin' more with the Weyrleader, mebee Jo 'n that greenie I saw outside the barracks t'other night." Pause, peer.

Quinlys may be inclined towards cheerfulness, but she meets that dare with a look of her own: there's steel behind her, steel she'll put in place when and if she needs to. Now, however, is not the time for steel; and so she smiles again, leaning an elbow up upon the bar, head shaking. "They seem like decent choices," she says. "But get to know your fellow candidates, too. You don't have to be friends, but don't let there be big divides between you; that's all I'm asking. Now-- is there anyone in the group you do like?" She and Alida are up at the bar, having escaped the icy rain outside for the comfortable warmth of the early evening in the Snowasis.

Noting that steel within Quinlys, and quietly approving after a fashion, Alida silently raises her white wine to the bluerider, then sips, nodding a couple of bare times at the other woman's 'decent choices.' However... "Jays, Quin...they're all friggin' *kids*." Nose-wrinkle. "We ain't got mucha' anything in common, aside from being candidates." Never mind her own recent exit from teendom...'lida's been forced to grow up fast in many ways. Still, there's a question to be answered, and at first the white-knot does so with a small roll of eyes and a shake of head. "No...nothin' on any uv' 'em ta make me interested in bothering." No 'instant click,' anyway.

Hana makes her way into the Snowasis, a pause given towards the wandering stalactites up above, then those who roam the floors. The pause changes to hesitant steps, but step out she does, heading towards the bar as there are none she's to meet within the various booths. Sliding up onto an empty seat, the holder requests this or that to drink - nothing impressive, before glancing to the side. "Good evening, Alida, ma'am."

"Some of them," Quinlys points out, after a moment, her tone deliberately bland, "Are closer to my age than yours. Not-- well. I mean, I do get it, believe me. There's a difference. But all you have to do is be-- well." She hesitates a moment, then rushes on ahead. "Just don't be a bitch about it, that's all." Hello, Hana. She seems to register the presence of someone else only after she's finished saying that, and abruptly swings around on her stool, surprised. "Oh," she says. "Hello." Her glance is appraising.

A lift of brow, and a small nod follow Quinlys' words of her fellow candidates, Alida cutting a slender smirk with the bluerider's words of not being a bitch about age. "Do what I can..." is noted around the lip of her wine glass, the holder silently appreciating the way the Weyrlingmaster deals with her often cantankerous self: direct yet politic. With the closer and direct approach of someone comes a flick up and out of those incisive green eyes, their focus soon directed upon Hana in instant assessment of her person, her capabilities. Notice how the guard clams up, how she quiets and concentrates on her drink, though she *does* murmur to the newest person, "Evenin'..."

A slight frown appears - more at a later reaction than the first, before she banishes it with a quick smile, "I hope I am not interrupting anything? If I am, I can scoot away - no offense taken, and with a firm promise I neither bite or even nibble," she offers, even as she gets more settled in her seat.

"Then," says Quinlys, abruptly swinging down from her seat to make it easier for Alida and Hana to communicate. "Alida, you should talk to-- well, you've obviously met before. Be friendly. It's good practice, remember? I'd stay and chat, but I have things to do. Can you believe it's only a couple of sevendays before the weyrlings graduate?" She obviously doesn't expect an answer to that, because she abandons her mug, then, and, turning to Hana adds, "Keep pushing her. Make conversation. It'll be fun, I promise!" It totally ignores what Hana has just asked, but Quinlys' smile is so big, so bright-- well. Could you turn that down? Just like that, she turns and walks away, a skip in her step.