Difference between revisions of "Logs:Survival"

Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr

With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.

It's a little after dinner hours by the time she gets done with whatever it is that takes her away from the Weyr, and so Alida's now found pacing into the night hearth area to sate her hunger on leftover herdbeast/barley/veggie soup and bread. Having a fast metabolism and lower-than-average body fat tends to render one more hungry than normal...and so she's hurrying just a little, in time to the low growls and shrieks of her jacket-hidden stomach. The blonde - so often keeping more to herself and her own - is not often seen gadding about the Weyr in her off hours; but when she is, of late, it's sometimes been to observe and interact with the influx of Nabolese refugees...among other things.

Gallagher is unassuming, settled in one of the chairs closest to the hearth. The most eye-drawing thing about him is the pink yarn coiled in rings around his upheld hands. There's an auntie just finishing up her yarn ball and talking his ear off as Alida makes her way toward the food. One of her companions sounds the auntie retreat and the trio starts gathering together all of their yarn and knitting needles and projects. The man's expression remains schooled and polite until they've hobbled off, and then he just deflates into the chair with a sigh. "Shells and shards," To Alida, because she's there, "I thought I was a goner for sure."

Of course she can't help but look over the whole situation as she enters the area, Alida placing people and things with wizened greens as she moves through the middle of the room. A faint twitch of one corner of her mouth into a ghost-smirk at the tall guy over there being forced to hold thread for Aunties soon alters into her focus on gleaning food from the hearth itself. It's while she's doing such that the new man's address touches her ears, the bluerider responding first with a soft grunt, then finally a low, clipped, "You from the Nabol area?" over her shoulder.

"Nah," The man answers easily as he pushes up onto his feet and steps toward the hearth to wait his turn to help himself to a meal. Blue eyes catch on her uniquely shaded hair, and then seek out her shoulder taking in the patches on her sleeve. "You Impressed in the clutch before last, right?" It's likely that a lot more than just her hair goes into that conjecture. Gallagher picks up a spoon and bowl and rattles them against each other idly as he waits.

She moves aside in courteous fashion after getting what she needs from the hearth, Alida then pivoting about slowly, and peering up and over at Gallagher as he answers her. "Came in on a 'train, then?" the bluie further inquires in casual fashion as she paces to a nearby seat, settles her butt into it, then places her plate atop her thighs. As for when she Impressed... those incisive green eyes lift once again to take in mister tall over there, the woman's alto soon factoring in her hard-accented, "Yeah. Apparently ya get around..." The pregnant trailing off might almost beg his name.

"Caught a ride," Not that that really tells the rider whether it was with a train or a-dragonback. Gallagher busies himself for a moment putting soup into the bowl. "Got to attend the hatching," He offers as he's spooning the soup in. "Aren't many around here with your color blonde. "Don't remember what color you Impressed, though. I'm better with faces than dragons." He reclaims his chair. "Gal," He offers. If that's a name and not just a single syllable utterance of some sort.

"Ahh..." Alida murmurs with just the right amount of curiosity and casualness, the woman taking her time as she tucks into her meal neatly, but quickly. "Mhm... Hraedhyth's a fierce one," the blonde murmurs almost companionably before taking a sip of tea, then lofting her gaze Gallagher-ward once again. "Blue." Cue another sip, then a bob of her braided head. "Gal." Pause. "Anyone ever give ya shit over yer name?" Her smirk is slender. "Alida." More eating ensues.

"Yeah, she sure does her part as protector," There's vague amusement in Gallagher's tone, though the feel of the words is complimentary toward the gold. "Blue's a fine color." This is more matter-of-fact, not intending to flatter. He takes a few bites of soup, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth before he answers the last inquiry, "Only those that want a black-eye or some missing teeth." His smile is nice enough, but there's something there in the almost too-charming expression that hints at danger. "Though I s'pose there's those I let get away with it if it suits me."

"Mhm..." Alida notes in regard to Hrae, her own tone sounding likewise a mix of some amusement and easy compliment to the queen. "Loyal," is added on with a certain hint of emphasis, the blonde then bobbing her head once to Gallagher's next words. "They all are; just depends on which rider ya ask." Smirk, eat. The outsider's latest replies are what truly garner some of her interest, though, the woman taking in his smile and that unspoken hint of danger in her usual fashion, then commenting around the lip of her mug of tea, "Those who earned it, mebee?"

"That I can't speak to," The man admits with a shrug. "Though I'd expect as senior queen there'd be a fair amount'n'more of loyalty that comes naturally to her. Even independent of what sort of dragon she is." His lips pull together in a disagreeing purse, "I'd say there's some more that could be said of certain colors over others, but I've not a beast, so I'm hardly the expert." Another shrug before he spoons more sustenance into his mouth. "Those who'd have had time and cause to earn it have loads better things to tease me about than my name," Gal's smirk pulls into place, "There are better reasons than earning to let some think they've an edge. Too many folks too certain of themselves for all the wrong reasons. Though I'm not about to go stopping them if a stranger's wont to act a fool."

"Enough kinds uv loyalty..." Alida notes casually to the nearby man, her eyes half-lidded - as though she might be a little tired - keen greens taking him in from beneath their small droop. A healthy bite of bread precedes a small shrug over dragon colors, then a faint smirk-grin when teasing comes up again, her tea sipping making breath plume very diaphanously for a second in the cooler air just outside her mouth. "Lots'a things these days that might make a person be called a fool ta act on 'em, seems..."

"True, and many and more places, people, or things to be loyal too. Interesting to see what happens here with all these refugees," So to answer her first question more firmly, evidently Gallagher's not one. "Whether the Weyr'll weather hard on their account or find somewhere else to put these mouths for winter. Can't imagine the Nabolese have much of a stomach for the kinds of work readily available to large groups of people trying to earn their keep." There are no hints of his opinions other than this last one, mostly just posing questions of curiosity, things to think on and observe. "There've always been too many things to make a man," Beat, "Or woman," He inclines his head just slightly, before finishing, "A fool. Best to avoid all one can and take the rest in stride, I think." So there's one solid opinion offered before the soup is continuing its vanishing act.

"C'n be a rarer state..." the blonde notes in return to Gallagher's continuing words of loyalty, more soup finding her own pie hole for some moments afterward, too. "No matter where, they'll survive," Alida soon notes quietly, firmly of the refugees, something a little thoughtful perhaps noted in her voice before greens open a little more and level more directly upon his blues. "What's the measure of a fool... 'r what's foolish, fer that matter, sometimes?"

"True enough," Gallagher agrees. For a moment his expression is readable as thoughtful and there's depth to the thoughts, but they're not voiced. Instead, he polishes off the contents of his bowl, letting the spoon tap idly again. "Not necessarily so. Some places winter isn't survived without preparation. Can't, say, dump them somewhere habitable and leave them to their own devices. It'd be inhumane." He says this with some degree of amusement, though what exactly about that scenario amuses him isn't, likely, clear. "Each'n every one of us has a different measure for a fool or those acts that're foolish, wouldn't you say? I'd say, though, that there are some fools or some acts so foolish that they make themselves obvious to even the most lenient of measures."

"True, true. Nobody survives the depth uv' a 'Reaches winter out on the mountains, fer instance..." Alida notes levelly in response to the man's words of preparation, a faint twitch of a dark smile touching her lips only for a moment at Gallagher's own amusement. Soon, and again, "Yep. Time 'n experience'll tell. Either that, 'r nature'll weed 'em out soon enough." Sip. "Or politics will." Snert.

All of these matters are tied together neatly as Gallagher smirks, "Some would say politics are nature. Just another kind of survival of the fittest." He rises from the chair, moving to put his bowl in the tray for dirty dishes. "Here's to us both surviving 'til the next time our paths cross, hm?" He lifts the bowl in a 'cheers' gesture before putting it where it belongs. "Clear skies, rider." And he's heading off to vanish down one of the tunnels off the inner caverns.