Logs:Friendly Overtures and Advice
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 26 July, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Oliwer, Telavi, Solith, Teisyth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Telavi brings soup and has advice. She's introduced to Oliwer and G'laer eventually kicks her out, but nicely. |
| Where: Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer & Oliwer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 5, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, V'ros/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
     |
| He's been absent for a full seven. Before Oliwer, this was unheard of. But now? Teisyth's answer to Solith is a tittering, « Well, sure! I'd love a visit! » She likes Solith after all. But she adds, « If'n Tela wants t'see G'laer tho', she's gonna have to talk to Oliwer when she gets here. » The loud whisper that follows is unintentionally comedic. « He's in charge. » Oliwer. Oliwer is in charge? At least, after some checking around when she first heard-- it's not like this takes Jinja-level insidery-- Telavi had confirmed that his name isn't actually Olive; still, Solith's bewilderment now flavors the air. « He is? » He is? Surely Telavi can survive talking to some heretofore-bland healer-man, though, and so the soup's still quite warm by the time Telavi sets foot onto ledge and frees Solith to bump around with Teisyth. Company! « Yes. » Still (botchedly) hushed as if Oliwer might hear. « He knows about sick. » The rusted green says this meaningfully with a deep sort of reverence. Oliwer being here helps Teisyth keep from panicking. He knows, which means it's okay that she's clueless. « They're inside. » Helpful! Though, apparently not so helpful as to tell G'laer, this time. Okay then! Solith takes in that reverence of Teisyth and takes it seriously; that means less bumping at first, then, and more an awestruck, « Was he very, very sick? » as Telavi trots over to the weyr with her basket but without warning to those within. At least this greenrider hasn't costumed herself in a healer assistant's tunic, but then there are weyrlings and she's tired and this is G'laer. "Rest is important. If you go back to work too quickly, you could just get sick again when you're already compromised. Or, worse, you'd get one of the weyrlings sick. Which could get all of the weyrlings sick." Never mind that G'laer is far from contagious at this point. And Oliwer works around sick people all the time. The healer is currently sitting in His Chair, which faces the hearth rather than the door. That means he's currently oblivious to visitors. "The weyrlings always get sick," G'laer complains, his voice coloring with (gasp!) unreserved emotion. "It's what happens when you start living in a barracks with nine other sleep-deprived people with questionable hygiene habits because you're taking care of dragon babies." As though his particularly ugly brand of sick couldn't make things all the worse. The greenrider is stretched out in his customary place on the floor, on his back this time, shirtless and enjoying the crackle of the hearth. He has a cup of tea, though no doubt a garden variety, or one that's meant to bolster the constitution, and not his preferred cup. "I need to go back to work, Oliwer." Whole name; it's serious! This is G'laer's serious face. Only, it's different than the serious face he shows to everyone else, this one has humor around the eyes and lips. The greenrider is winning this argument once and for all. « He was, » Teisyth sounds very nearly grave. But then, too brightly, « But Oliwer made him stay in bed and sleep a lot, and wouldn't let me take 'im anywhere, which was good, because he fell down a lot. » There's a quickly scribbled sketch of G'laer (in purple) getting dizzy (as designated by the cluster of circles over his head) and then another of him on the ground, sitting at least, but still, no good. (To Solith from Teisyth) And Telavi even gets to witness, though the winning may well be the least of it. She stops. She looks. The basket swings. "Hel-lo-o, Healer Oliwer?" she calls, and by now she's looking off to wherever such a healer might be that is definitely not the floor. Maybe she hasn't seen G'laer yet. Maybe she's mistaking him for a taxidermied rug. Solith seems fascinated by this. « Telavi would like to stay in bed and sleep a lot, » not that Solith's told her about this, is the underlying feeling, Solith just knows, « but not the sick part. » One might imagine an ugh. « Did it make your head hurt too? » (To Teisyth from Solith) There are very specific times when Oliwer swears. Jumping enough to spill just a bit of hot tea on himself is apparently not one of those specific times. He hisses at it, rising to his feet to turn around and look at the voice. "Uh. Hello? G'laer? Were you expecting company?" He asks that without looking away from Telavi, brows furrowed like her presence is an awfully hard thing to wrap his head around. G'laer's gaze snaps into focus on the other greenrider; when Oliwer asks him, he's silent a moment. "Teisyth," is the explanation forthcoming. He shifts on the rug, rising his muscles flexing under his many-time-scarred torso and moves toward the bed, "Telavi," is his greeting along his way to get a shirt. "Oliwer, Telavi. Telavi, Oliwer." No doubt Oliwer has heard the greenrider's name before from both stories of his own weyrlinghood and talk of his current professional exploits. « Sleeping is nice. » Teisyth agrees enthusiastically. « Only, I like it more'n he does. He likes to get up with the sun. » Why, she doesn't know, and could never really imagine, except that the sunrises are rather pretty. He just does. « Nah. We aren't like that, really. Takes work fer me t'get in his head. I always do when I want ter. » This last has a little tiny puff of pride. (To Solith from Teisyth) Telavi waves at Oliwer, prettily; it's the least she can do. "Indeed. They're out there... talking, or whatever, and apparently I'm supposed to talk to you." Not the soon-to-be-no-longer-shirtless greenrider over there. "Do you eat soup? I have soup. Though drinking it might be better; it's very broth-y." That makes one of them, Solith's clean breeze momentarily stagnant, but she won't let that stop her from taking on more of Teisyth's cheer. « The little ones should copy you with the sleeping and the not getting up, » she thinks out loud. « Not until after the sun. She still runs, mornings, but likes it better with real sleep. » So much less complaining! (To Teisyth from Solith) Oliwer glances over at G'laer only when the greenrider starts moving to go find a shirt. Curse company! Fortunately that doesn't really show on his face when he's looking at the woman again. "Ah. You're Telavi. And... you need to talk to me?" Still confused. "Why?" That's the only question left to be asked before the healer is looking at her basket. "I... suppose? We have tea." Which is basically the same as brothy soup. The shirt is pulled on, and then must be tucked neatly before he turns back toward the pair looking at one another. "You didn't put anything experimental in it, did you?" G'laer inquires of the soup. Which probably doesn't make a lot of sense to Oliwer; maybe it's an inside joke? Then he moves back toward the hearth to procure a third tea cup and the already steeped tea. Evidently he anticipates Telavi will want a cup. « That would be wonderful! » The little ones copying her. It makes her tickled enough to guffaw. Teisyth's mindtouch feels somehow brighter for a moment, and then dims. « Only... » Now she is sad. Sad, sad, sad. « Olveraeth don't want me near 'em unless I c'n be not as excited. An' I've tried, an' tried, but... » Suddenly there are cartoony doodles of adorable dragon babies in all colors. « They're just so dang cute! » And she can't help herself. Not even with the ones who try to be mean, like Zmeyth; it's adorable! (To Solith from Teisyth) "That's what Teisyth said," Telavi says simply, quite as though she always does what G'laer's dragon says-- right before G'laer himself surprises her into a laugh. "Not this time, thank you. No, this is straight from our cooks," much safer, and she approaches the table to set down the basket with its jar of soup. Brothy soup. Like tea but with meat. So sad! « Olveraeth is very... peaceful, » Solith finally decides on a word, « most of the time. » It's fondly said, as is her more reflective continuation. « His 'excited' is not like everyone else's excited. Telavi wonders if it was different, when he was that little, » but how could he have been so small? (To Teisyth from Solith) Oliwer watches Telavi set the basket down on the table with a frown. It's probably not because of her setting the basket down, though, just because he's still acclimating to her being here at all. Not exactly the best host, ever. "Right," to mention of Teisyth. "To, uh, what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Slightly better. He apparently doesn't think this is just about bringing soup for his patient/weyrmate. "Tea?" G'laer offers; who knew he'd be the better host? "It's one to ward against this sick, and anything else going around in the barracks. I'll give you the recipe to practice." This one, he'll share. This, all to Telavi before joining her at the table, with her tea in hand if she accepted. Then a hand shifts subtly at his side, palm open toward Oliwer inviting him to come closer, to even hold hands if he likes. « If these are this small now, » Teisyth begins slowly, carefully. There's reason needed here, and that's not her strong suit. But after a moment she concludes, « Then maybe he coulda been once. Maybe. » She's not willing to commit herself. Not even after, « G'laer says that's a silly question, » which means the answer should be obvious, but not to her. « Do you know ways to be less excited when you're feeling excited? » The rusted green asks of her more comely friend. (To Solith from Teisyth) The bottom of Telavi's basket is reasonably clean, at least, even if that isn't the healer's issue. "Did you notice he's been gone for a seven? That never happens. It's my job to make sure you don't have him locked to a... chair, or something." This, Tela tells Oliwer with remarkable sincerity; here she pauses to thank G'laer and accept that tea before returning her lambent gaze to the healer. "Would you feel more comfortable if I addressed you as 'Healer' or 'Journeyman,' sir?" Solith is very very quiet through this slow carefulness of Teisyth's. Interruption could mean catastrophe. She releases the breath she mightn't have known she was holding when the other green finishes up, which also helps her think. « I go up up up and fly a lot, » Solith offers, only it's still half a question. (To Teisyth from Solith) Oliwer glances at G'laer's open palm but, while he does shift closer, he doesn't take it with his own hand. Even if it does make him eye Telavi again, this time less... suspiciously or whatever he's been managing up until this point "Of course I don't have him locked to a chair." He might have tried if he thought he could manage, granted, but... well, here's G'laer, not tied to a chair or any other furniture. "No! No. Shells. No." That would not make him more comfortable. "Oliwer is fine, thank you. Oli, even, if you prefer." "You can call me sir, if you'd like." G'laer offers to the other greenrider, and his lips pull into a smile that might well be described as cheeky. Then, more seriously, "Oliwer doesn't share my hang up on proper address." As he's likely been the most pointed about ensuring all the weyrlings address and are addressed properly according to rank and status. "Have a seat, if you like." He takes one, pulling out a chair next to him in silent invitation, or perhaps instruction for Oliwer to join them too. Apparently, he has less choice in the matter. There's silence from Teisyth. She's considering, and this, too, is delicate work. Then her breath, that she didn't realize she was holding, comes out in a rush. « Welp. I could try it. Cain't make it worse. » Can it? (To Solith from Teisyth) "Yes, Oliwer," Telavi says earnestly. Perhaps someday he'll graduate to 'Oli,' given how Tela slides a more-amused glance at G'laer and says, "I'll think about it... 'Gil,'" trying that on for size. Evidently she'd rather sit than call the other greenrider by his suggestion, though; she leans back if only a little, crossing her legs at the knee. To Oliwer, circling back after a sip of tea-- if a sip that gets a delicate wrinkle of her nose, even if it is sweetened-- "Of course you don't. We didn't really think you did, but you know what they say about 'trust but verify.'" Her smile isn't wide, but it is bright. "You haven't caught whatever he has... had, whatever... have you?" In a whisper, « Besides, it's fun. » Isn't it? (To Teisyth from Solith) The healer doesn't even joke about how he might call G'laer sir. That would be entirely too much affection for their guest. The one that G'laer is comfortable enough around to suggest holding hands. Oliwer, at the very least, does sit down next to his weyrmate once he has his own tea to keep him company. "I rarely seem to catch what's going around, fortunately. We learn to be quite cautious in the infirmary. But it's important that he's completely over it before returning to work. The stress could weaken his immune system and make him susceptible all over again." "Gill." G'laer frowns at Telavi. And let that frown be a lesson to you, young lady! "You don't think it was bad enough being nicknamed Gal all these turns," a nickname, it might be noted, that Oliwer is inclined to use, "but now you want to start calling me Gill?" The greenrider is tealess, for now, having already finished his cup and it's left empty on the floor by the hearth. He catches Telavi's nose-wrinkle too, "It's good for you." He adds, before glancing to Oliwer. One hand shifts, but it's hard to see that it lands reassuringly on the older man's thigh from where there's a table to block the view. "It's been a full seven. I'm recovered, Oli. It's time to go back to work." He reiterates his position from before his coworker's presence was realized. Teisyth wiggles. Of course it is! (To Solith from Teisyth) All these healer-words! Proof that Telavi's spent far too much time in various infirmaries is her slow nod over anything more dazed; "Fortunate indeed," she murmurs to the older man. To G'laer, after a token sip of the good-for-you brew, "Oh, fine. I can go with 'Gal' instead, I suppose," because she's flexible. She does not, however, attempt to intercede between the two men; rather, she keeps her mouth occupied with regular small sips-- and the occasional wince-- rather than more words. Oliwer's gaze shifts toward G'laer when the greenrider implies that he dislikes the nickname 'Gal'. But now isn't the time to ask him about that, so instead he takes a drink of his tea to give himself plenty of time to think before he says, "If it was up to you, you would have said the same thing a day after you could barely stand up without feeling dizzy." So excuse Oliwer for not really believing him. "That's because I've got something to prove, Oli, and it's not going well," which wouldn't be shocking, but probably G'laer hasn't said it in quite so many words before. He looks toward Telavi, frowning now. "It's alright for you. She likes you. I'm not likeable. I even gave her a very rare gift when I was a weyrling, and she still doesn't like me." Quinlys, Quinlys, Quinlys. "It'd be fine if I didn't want to work under her. But I do." He gazes at Telavi a long moment now, half-expectant before he rises to get his tea cup and refill it. It must take Telavi a moment or two to catch on, for when she does, her expression clears for all that it hadn't been notably cloudy before. "Quinlys," she sets it out there. Out loud! Then she has to ask, "What was the gift? Did you..." only then her glance slides to Oliwer and those last words are stillborn. To G'laer again, "Why do you?" She does not ask to have her cup topped off. The healer is just all frowns today. He frowns at G'laer. He frowns at Telavi. He frowns at his tea. "I'm not holding you here against your will," Oliwer points out to G'laer. He's probably imagined a scenario where he could, granted. But he can't. G'laer does what he wants. Oliwer shares Telavi's question about the gift that was given to Quinlys, but seems to miss that she doesn't finish her thought because he's still looking at his weyrmate with expectant curiosity. "Yes, you are," G'laer counters to the healer, placing one hand on the back of the other man's chair as he returns and sits, leaning a little bit toward his weyrmate, but not too close. "You turned my dragon against me." His brows are raised in teasing accusation. G'laer could fix that if he needed to, surely. Teisyth does love G'laer best and first, after all, and she's not terribly difficult to manipulate in any case. "We grew up together, did you know?" The greenrider counters Telavi's first question then. "Our parents were all riders. We were children when Thread fell." Not during the official Pass, but after. But he doesn't say yet exactly what it was he gave her. "We were never friends then, either. I liked my books and she liked her friends." He shrugs. To Oliwer, he adds, "That's back when I was just little nerdy Gal." Before he got all these muscles and all that training. "I'm a teacher, Telavi. It's one of the things I love to do. It's why I teach you about herbs when I don't have to." Surely, she didn't think it was for some less selfish reason? "I don't know how to teach baby dragons, or weyrlings, but I've taught, I've trained men before. That's why I stayed at Crom proper when I could've gone elsewhere. I want to teach. And Teisyth isn't well suited for a regular wing. We work at everything, but we're not there yet. At least she can make the weyrlings feel like they're doing well." By comparison, if nothing else. Turned his dragon against him. Telavi gives Oliwer a sidelong look, if one that's touched with far too much humor to be real accusation. With that, followed by an unthinking sip of the tea that has her scrunching up her mouth, she listens. She might listen a little more wide-eyed than strictly necessary, and once unscrunched, a smile plays about her lips until things wind up getting more serious. To Oliwer, before she says anything else, "Did you notice that he still hasn't said what he gave her?" To G'laer, with even deeper seriousness that bypasses other things she might have said, "You told her all that, too?" On its heels, not at all rhetorical, "How much do you want to teach... and how much do you want to be taught, just now? Taught how?" The look Oliwer tilts toward G'laer only suggests he's calling bullshit on the first. He doesn't comment outright but he glances at Telavi with a slight shake of his head. So not true. And then he's pointing out, "He doesn't answer most questions you ask him," like G'laer isn't right there to hear them. As for the other things his weyrmate says, Oliwer seems quite interested but doesn't seem to have any input for the rider-y things. "Shells, it was already unfair when it was two against one, now it's three?" G'laer rolls his eyes quite openly before moving his teacup a little. A beat later, he admits defeat, but let it be remembered he held out for all of three seconds when the pressure was on. "It was a pin. When we were small and Thread fell, a lot of us had nightmares about it. About it itself or our parents getting hurt, so they had these cloth dragon pins for us, to keep us safe. I kept two of them. I gave her one." So he still has one, somewhere. His eyes don't flick anywhere, so any treasure-hunters will have to look hard! "I told her I wanted the job. That I had some experience. That I wanted to learn. I've never had good conversations with Quinlys. Not during weyrlinghood and not after." He sighs, "She's quick to dislike me. To assume the worst. Was I really that much of an ass as a weyrling? I tried to be a humble student." Tried. Usually succeeded, but not always. "It's not like I ever had a dragon before Teisyth." Telavi spares a decided nod for Oliwer before she's focused again on G'laer, though her attention broadens once more as the other greenrider tells the tale-- did he mean to give it up all the time?-- and her hand goes briefly over her mouth so her mmm doesn't actually become 'how sweet.' Her eyes flick to Oliwer then, and back; then there's story, story... silence, at least on Telavi's part. She holds the cup between her hands; finally she says, "It's really, really important to her. She cares a lot, if maybe not the way you'd think. She works hard and... what you did training men, before, did it have anything at all to do with... feelings?" Air quotes. The table can hold the cup temporarily, that's what it's for. "Or was it just," and in the next instant she's shifted so suddenly her back's straight, her posture exacting and not in a lady's attendant's sort of way, neatly aligned with her chair. Her chin is up, her expression set as she stares straight ahead. Admittedly, her chin's also sticking out further than it has to, and then she actually goes and grunts. In an impassive affirmative sort of way, but still it's a grunt. Oliwer probably thinks it actually is sweet, if the unconscious smile he has as he looks at G'laer is any indication. He doesn't really intrude on the exchange between greenriders right now, whatever answer Telavi might get for her question is of interest to him, but he's clearly listening while he sips at his tea. G'laer watches Telavi's guessing imitation without expression. He, very deliberately in a way that might suggest silent rebuke, lifts his tea cup to his lips and sips before saying simply, "Feelings are discouraged in the guard." Surprise, surprise. The hand on the back of Oli's chair shifts a little bit back toward G'laer as though the previous programming might be kicking in to war with the feelings he now professes to have. By now, Telavi's herself again; she takes that silence calmly, for all intents and purposes, but there's a wry little twist to her mouth before it disappears. "They're inevitable here," she says once he does speak, her gaze taking in Oliwer as well as G'laer. "It's what they're made of, and blunting them blunts them. That isn't to say to go with every little whim, but to know what you're feeling, to accept it and channel it, it's so critical because that's how they relate and squashing it down just doesn't work for them." Pause. "Which is annoying. But," she shrugs, what can you do. More to the other greenrider now, "If you can express what you're feeling to Quinlys-- I know, I know! --your wanting to learn and to teach and to get it right and the frustration that you're feeling now," possibly right now, "in a way that's openly asking for her to help you cope, to be on each other's side... if you do that, I have to think it would help, it would feel less criticizing in the bad way and show how you're trying this different way." While Oliwer listens, he starts shifting a little like he's not entirely comfortable sitting here while they discuss these things. "Maybe I should give you two some space, hmm? I'm going to go get more tea." The healer tilts a brief, polite smile toward Telavi as he rises, touching G'laer affectionately on the shoulder along the way. The small smile G'laer has for his weyrmate as his head turns to follow the healer belies his next words, "Oh, I think we're about done." Did anyone not see that coming? Telavi did just ask him to not only be in touch with his feelz but to acknowledge them out loud to Quinlys. The man's glance slides back to Telavi. "Thank you for the soup." No more of this feelz nonsense. "That's kind of you, Oliwer, but really-- as he says, no need." There's no surprise there, if perhaps a touch of wistfulness; indeed, Telavi's still smiling at the healer when G'laer looks at her. Once she does return his gaze, she adds a slight shrug. What can you do. But: "Thank you for the tea, both of you. G'laer, good luck with the rest of your healing; Oliwer? I'd be interested in hearing how healer apprentices are trained, sometime." Sometime which is not now, for she's already standing, and now slides her chair back into place with grace. It's not as though the greens will have to stop their chatter as Solith takes Tela away. Even if it's not necessary for him to give them more space, Oliwer would still like to have more tea. He pauses to turn back to Telavi, though, because that's the more polite thing to do. "Quite carefully," is his warm, smiling response in regards to how healer apprentices are trained for now. Maybe he's happy that they'll be left to what they were doing before the other greenrider arrived. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow," G'laer informs Telavi before she goes and then casts a meaningful look toward the healer. This must be his compromise. See? He can be reasonable sometimes. "But I'm going out tomorrow," is added to Oliwer. "I have things I need to do." He crosses to the healer, as without Teisyth jumps off the ledge in anticipation of following Solith home! "Nothing strenuous. I promise." He doesn't even look to see if Tela is well and truly gone before kissing his weyrmate. |
Leave A Comment