Difference between revisions of "Logs:Emme's Feminine Wiles"

Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr

Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.

Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.

It's spring, but the nice bits - the bits that involve sun and warmth and clear skies - haven't quite made it, yet, and instead, the bowl is full of clammy fog even into the evening hours. The dinner hours is in full swing, in the crowded caverns, and most of the tables are crowded, with people taking the places of those departing on a regular basis. It's to one of those tables that K'del carries his carefully selected meal, the bowl of fish stew balanced with silverware and a mug. There's another empty chair next to him, once he sits, but the Weyrleader is presently unaccompanied: plenty of room for another. Or perhaps more, as the table's residents shift once more.

The fog is kind of creepy, actually. Enough so that Emme is glancing over her shoulder with slightly narrowed eyes when she comes in from the bowl. But she also has no jacket or gloves on, so maybe she's just a little touched in the head right? That could also explain why, when she stops in front of the fish stew she just stares at it for a minute, before moving over to a hot dish with rivergrains and wherry in it instead. Balancing that and hot klah, her mood brightens when an opportunity pretends itself. Operation: suck up to K'del... commence! She snags an empty spot beside him. "Evening, K'del." Cheerful. Too cheerful.

The change of seasons means that flu season is over, so one would think that would find the healer apprentice constantly tasked with keeping track of it less busy, but Hypatia is still carrying a notebook and keeping a pencil behind her ear and looking half-distracted by something running through the back of her head as she selects her lunch (some kind of roast meat on a stick, with vegetables) and scans around the living cavern looking for a place to sit. She'd just registered the sight of Emme's hair when the brownrider moved to sit near the Weyrleader, and the combination of those two meant only one thing: interesting conversation. Hypatia steers herself in that direction, though doesn't quite sit down yet.

Azaylia feels like a dewy leaf trembling on the wind by the time she enters the living cavern. To those who have the misfortune of navigating around the young woman, however, she may play the roll of quivering oak. Weighted locks curl wetly around her face as mittened hands reach up to remove her faded blue scarf. Mindful steps bring her over to the food, eager to warm her palms on the underside of a bowl of stew- even if she's not that fond of fish. It's warm! Whispered 'excuse me' and 'pardons' bring the easily nudged girl to a table with familiar faces. "Oh. Ah- Weyrleader K'del. Emme." With the scarf tucked under her chin, hopefully their lipreading is up to snuff to catch her quiet greetings.

No sooner has K'del settled himself, it seems, but he's the at the middle of a whirlwind of activity, distracted by arrivals all 'round. Spoon in hand, he tilts his head upward to return Emme's greeting, her cheerfulness drawing a crease into his forehead for all that he still manages to smile. "Emme," he greets, followed a few moments later by, "Azaylia-- hello." If he doesn't acknowledge Hypatia, just yet, that's likely because he's not had a moment to notice her - not when he also seeks to put a spoonful of his stew into his mouth to chew.

"Why is it, that my cheerful mood causes concern for others?" Emme wonders, tapping her fork against her lips lightly. "Hey Azaylia." She does wave at Hypatia. Because it's just not in her /not/ to notice being followed. Mostly. "Anyway. I need a favor. Just a small one." Ahem.

Azaylia shifts her weight from one boot to the other. Just standing there, holding her bowl up like some odd fountain. Only instead of water there are fish chunks. Dark eyes drift over the pair and just as she's about to excuse herself, a polite woman stands and offers her once occupied chair. Well it'd be rude not to... and so Azaylia finds herself sitting at the table and finally lifting her own spoon. Eyes catch Emme's waving, curiosity bringing her to spot the approaching Hypatia and offering a curled mitten in greeting. Shrinking in her seat until she's satisfied, the beast crafter concentrates on warming herself from the inside out.

Hypatia had been aiming at not being noticed, so at least K'del and Azaylia were spot on! But with Emme spoiling her plan, she chooses to take that as her opportunity to insert herself into the conversation. "Hi," she says, and shoots Emme a quick smile -- and then sits down next to her. "Thanks for the seat." Because that was intentional. "Weyrleader, Azaylia, evening to you both," she adds, putting the food and the notebook down but leaving the pencil right where it is.

"Goodness, look at this. Surrounded by lovely women-- and only one of them has instantly come out with an indication that she wants something." K'del's tone is teasing; his smile is welcoming, particularly for the more reticent Azaylia. "Evening, Hypatia. Now, Emme." The brownrider earns his full attention again, expression neither fully serious nor entirely jovial, though there's definite curiosity hovering about the corners of his mouth. "What was this favour of yours? This... 'small' favour."

"What can I say. I like to be honest. At least I'm not trying to seduce you?" Emme offers, a broad smile accompanying the teasing tone. "You look so cold, Azaylia. You want my klah? It'll help." is offered then, a curious glance given - at the same time - to Hypatia's notebook. "Right, the favor. I need a letter of reccomendation for the Harper Hall, so I can continue with my studies. One from you, and one from Mielline."

"The view's not as good anywhere else, Weyrleader," says Hypatia with a sweet little smirk in K'del's direction, and makes it completely unclear as to whether or not she means that teasingly or seriously. At least she doesn't have a tendency to be cheeky with superiors. She reaches for the shoulders of her sweater, maybe considering taking it off to offer it to the beastcrafter, but Emme offers her klah out before she can. The brownrider's line of questioning has Hypatia entirely stop talking and look back to K'del's face to see what he does next -- or just his expression.

Rhythmic spoonfuls of stew are lifted to her lips, hopefully satiating Azaylia's uncharacteristically voracious appetite. There will be seconds. And possibly thirds. But those eyes are /wide/ and only getting wider as evidence of her eavesdropping. "No." Comes the choked squeak, head lifting to bring that wide gaze to Emme. "I mean- ah, no thank you. The stew is doing wonders." Gentle curl to her lips enforces the genuine decline, but she doesn't go back to staring at her stew- just as curious as Hypatia when it comes to K'del's answer.

K'del is definitely aiming for teasing when he says, faux-wounded, "But Emme... why aren't you trying to seduce me?" His wink certainly supports that particular theory, not to mention the fact that moments later, he's giving her a rather more considering glance - but not before he grins at Hypatia for her smirk. He, too, seems concerned about Azaylia, but her refusal allows him to focus his attention in on Emme once more. "Ah," is his answer, oh-so-casual. "Did hear something about-- so. Why should I give you my support, Brownrider?" He's (probably) teasing again.

"Such a tease you are, Weyrleader." Emme sighs, and flutters her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner. "I'm rather not dressed to be trying to seduce anyone, really. I at least try to wear something that shows some skin. Duh." is joked, as she obviously has no problems being cheeky with her superiors. The way Hypatia and Azaylia kind of stop and stare forces her to glance between them with a sort of 'what, what'd I do?' expression. "Why? Because I'll be more useful in my wing, for one. A harper-trained rider with a specialty in law would be quite valuable in situations similar to what happened with Tillek's heir. Plus, if you don't - you know I'll harass you about it every chance I get."

Hypatia is completely unable to not stage-whisper in Emme's direction, loud enough for Azaylia and K'del both to hear, "Trying to seduce him would probably work to your advantage in getting him on your side, don't you know?" with the continuation of her sweet-but-not-innocent expression.

Azaylia pushes a particularly large chunk within her broth around. Wait, how did her eyes get down here again? Either way, she speaks to the ever-wise and all-deciding stew, "I think Emme would do really, umm, well. In training. She's really smart." Hypatia's not-a-stage-whisper earns her a stare from the apprentice, face creasing some in discomfort as there's visibly something on the tip of her tongue. It's drowned in another spoonful, and her face smooths to it's usual docile mask.

Though K'del listens to Emme's explanation with genuine consideration, his seriousness is rather interrupted - first by Hypatia, whose comment makes him laugh, and then, too, by Azaylia. He even has to put his spoon down and take a deep breath, so that he can speak without laughter. "While seduction is certainly a valid technique, at times, promise it's really not necessary this time around. Rather make this kind of decision based on facts. You're right, Azaylia: Emme is smart. And Emme's right, she'd probably wear me down eventually, anyway."

Emme glances sidelong at Hypatia, and of course, can't help herself. "You mean that kind of thing actually works?" is whispered back, her expression full of curiousity. Er, ahem! Attention back ahead at Azaylia and K'del. And, her food. Which she finally starts sort of shoveling in. "Why thank you, K'del. And Azaylia. My powers of persuasion have not entirely abandoned me at least."

While silence is rare from Hypatia, this response from Emme certainly wins her the elusive prize of the normally chatty healer not actually saying anything. Her eyebrows rise up and she puts her hand over her mouth to hide what is likely a giggle, and she forces her eyes down to her food. She is just going to eat a couple of bites and then say, "If my opinion matters, sir, Emme's report to me of the whole -- corpse incident was extremely well-stated and I think she would do very well working in some sort of law." While keeping a straight face.

Azaylia furrows her brow the same time Emme asks for confirmation, wearing the non-verbal equivalent of: That actually works? Of course Hypatia is the one she looks to, though K'del gets a glance as well. He's not exactly proving the healer's words wrong. Not knowing isn't going to bother her for too long, a quiet giggle leaving the beastcrafter as the Weyrleader agrees with her. "Welcome." She utters towards Emme, certainly looking better than before from both the food and the company.

"Did they teach you nothing in weyrling classes, Emme? I'm going to have to do something about that." No, K'del is definitely teasing when he says that: he's grinning too broadly for it to be anything else. "Not," hastily, "that I condone attempting to sleep one's way into anything. Not seriously." Hypatia's report draws another short nod from the bronzerider, who leans back in his chair, rescuing his spoon, and allows, "Can't see any reason to say no, really, Emme. Given the resounding support you're getting. Must be all those feminine wiles, convincing me, the three of you. You need it in writing?"

Okay, this time Emme's face flushes a bit. And she clears her throat a little, using her mug of klah to sort of hide behind before she says anything else. Hypatia and Azaylia giggling is probably going to force her to facepalm repeatedly later. "Well, thank you -all-, in that case. Me and my feminine wiles will need it in writing though, yes. Kharven will take the notes to the Hall with him when he pleads my case for me." Wry smile.

"See, wiles are all you need," Hypatia tells Emme, smile forming into an outright wicked grin in her direction for approximately half a second before her expression neutralizes. ... And then drops, as the sight of a tall, dark-haired skinny gentleman across the living cavern waving at her; after a moment the wave turns into a whistle and outright calling her name. "Shells, won't even let me finish eating," she mutters, and quickly stands, giving K'del a proper salute before picking up her things, plate included. Azaylia and Emme also get parting smiles as she half complains and half bids farewell, "Guy from the Hall here to endlessly pester me, I've got to hurry up or he'll keep yelling -- I'm coming," she similarly yells in Petros' direction, then sighs and goes back to her hurried speech, "So I'll see you all later. Sorry -- good luck, Emme!" And then she's gone, saving her feminine wiles for another day. The journeyman does not deserve them.

Azaylia ponders exactly /what/ might be taught in weyrling classes, but then again that's dragonrider business. But K'del's (rushed) reveal that he doesn't actually support sleeping to the top has her smile lingering even as she's scraping the bottom of her bowl. She knew he and Emme were too good for that sort of thing. Right? Hypatia's departure comes so suddenly, startling her into a farewell mumble and the raise of her hand for a wave. The spoon's still curled in the mitten, but it'll do as the healer apprentice goes rushing off. Spoontip taps the bottom of her bowl before there's a quiet inquiry, "What're... 'feminine wiles', exactly?" Since everyone insists on flaunting theirs- at least verbally.

"Tell me more, o wise one." Emme quips, finding Hypatia's wicked grin an impetus for future discussion. But then, booooooooo, the healer has to go. "I believe it involves wearing things to show off your, uhm, curves. And encouraging your target to think you want to sleep with them. But what do -i- know. Certanly not much in that regard." Emme admits easily. "Oh, there's Rhazekth. He's got me on a schedule, and right now I'm supposed to be reading to him from this book we picked out and... shells, sorry. K'del, I'll stop by your office in a day or so to pick up that letter! Thank you, thank you, thank you." is added, before she all but dashes off. Oops.

"Duly noted," says K'del, with a salute that is no less precise than it must have been when he was a weyrling. Hypatia's departure has him lifting his gaze to follow her across the room, but she's too quick for him to do much more than nod; which doesn't, really, seem to bother him too much. Azaylia's question, though-- the young Weyrleader lets out an amused, if somewhat rueful, breath. "It's, um," he begins, evidently intending to try and explain, though Emme gets in before he can say much more. Her departure, too, draws a blinked glance, before again, it's Azaylia he turns his attention on. "It's manipulating people by hinting at what you might do, I guess," he confirms. "Or just manipulating a person in general."

Azaylia finds herself alone with the Weyrleader. Ohgoodness. And no Emme or cheeky Hypatia to fill the silence or keep her from saying something dumb. At least the brownrider had enough time to try and explain what 'feminine wiles' were. "Curves. And... sleeping. And manipulating?" She echoes, though the young woman's got it wrong, words softly spoken rather than amplified. "What makes it... feminine, though? Can't... men do it too?" Brown eyes steadily bounce from table to K'del during her questions.

K'del is smiling, at least, and - hopefully - not looking too intimidating, though he is, of course, still The Weyrleader. Azaylia's question makes him grin all the broader. "Well," he says. "Guess that kind of depends. Sure, I reckon it's possible to have masculine wiles, but-- it sort of works on the principle that men'll be easily distracted by women. That we want to please women. And it's more subtle: most people tend to think men aren't subtle in the same way. We tend to be a bit more direct, I guess." His head shakes, and he reaches to swirl his stew in his bowl.

The gnawing in her gut can only be ignored for manners for so long before she's slowly rising. "Excuseme." Long legs have her bounding, not wanting to keep K'del waiting of course, but desperate for another bowl. Upon her return she's balancing two on a tray, not looking sheepish in the least and intending to do away with both. "Sorry." Sitting back down she brings her second helping closer. As for the Weyrleader's further explanation, she's got to chew on that a bit more before finally uttering, "That's... silly. Uhm, not that what you're saying is silly I just mean... ah..." She shrinks her her seat some. "Men think about work more, don't they? Shouldn't..? And I don't think I have umm, those." Feminine wiles, that is. Seems food is the key to unlocking those normally locked lips.

Azaylia's hurried departure has K'del looking momentarily perplexed; when she returns, however, there's no judgment in his expression, only cheerful amusement. "You must be starving," he remarks, easily, scooping up another mouthful of his own stew and chewing on it before he continues any further. "Do they? Some do, maybe. There's plenty of women who think of nothing but work - and plenty of men who'd rather think of anything else. Most of it's all stereotype, I guess. Not all women employ wiles; not all men are absolutely direct." And then, with an encouraging smile: "You have to practice, most of the time, to be able to use something like that. But there's no requirement; we use the tools that work for us."

Azaylia looks up with mild surprise at the comment to her appetite, "Not any more than usual." She admits with a knowing quirk to her lips. Her freakish appetite is something she's comfortable with. "Everybody's different." She summarizes with a gentle nod and another heaping mouthful. Though some of K'del's words has her jaws slowing, brows coming to a concerned pinch above her searching gaze. "Do... you think I should practice?" Despite his dismissal of the tactic only moments before, Azaylia's looking to the bronzerider for advice. Ohdear.

"You eat like I did as a teenager," grins K'del, amused. "Definitely not going to call it a bad thing!" He even, if his nod is anything to go by, seems approving of it, though that doesn't get spelled out in words. Her summarisation is confirmed with another nod, the corners of his mouth twitching cheerfully - though they falter slightly as he registers her question at the end. "Only-- only if you want to, Azaylia. No need to force yourself into it, if it doesn't feel comfortable. Nothing wrong with trying it out, if you feel like it, though, sure."

Azaylia actually giggles softly as he reveals their similar eating habits. Well, when he was her age, surely. "Mama said I out-ate all the farmhands, too." Yes, there might be the oddest hint of pride in that otherwise meek tone. She falls silent once he begins to speak once more, eager to know what the Weyrleader thinks she should do... only to have her gaze drop as she considers K'del's words. "M-maybe." Though not very likely. Her spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, startling her into sitting up and giving an apologetic glance his way. Azaylia stands, though she doesn't forget her last helping as those mittens reach for it and pull the bowl close. "I think... I'm gonna finish in the craft complex. If that's okay?" She smiles shyly, "Thank you very much for umm, listening. And talking, Weyrleader." A respectful bow of her head before the beastcrafter starts to ease her way out of the cavern.

Her pride seems to amuse K'del even more-- but it's to the rest that he replies: "You're more than welcome, Azaylia. Keep well." And then, abandoned by all those women, he finally begins to concentrate more focusedly on his meal.