Logs:A Bit of Clarity
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| RL Date: 24 September, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Nahia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Brieli comes upon a mishap with the forge, and takes the opportunity to speak with Nahia about the protest. |
| Where: Craft Area, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 11, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Though overall pleasant, the temperature has dropped just below the freezing mark, enough to allow the lightest sprinkle of snow to fall from the skies. |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions |
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| Craft Area, High Reaches Weyr The far southeast corner of the bowl is devoted to crafter use, with a couple of stone buildings built in the open, designed to make use of the fresh air. One is the tannery, always reeking of chemicals and with hides everywhere, stretched out on racks to prepare and dry. The other is the forge, which rings of metal-on-metal and leaks black smoke and heat -- suffocating in summer, but at least somewhat more bearable in the cold, cold winters. A number of windows with heavy wooden shutters line the wall behind these structures, aimed in such a way so as to avoid the worst of the noise and smells. In between them, a boulder-shaped entranceway leads within. To the west, roughly in the direction of the weyrling area, is a loading dock, while above it all, the glass-walled Greenhouse sits atop a low-positioned ledge. Construction can only do so much. An extremely unique smell is wafting up from the forge of the craft section of the bowl - ripe and suffocating; enough to have driven most of the other crafters out of their designated hovels to gossip and breathe fresh air. Unluckily, it's air that's reached just about freezing levels this early in the morning, and a majority of the hands are rubbing fiercely together while heads leant together make last second agreements about where to move their discussion to, or how this is the perfect excuse to take a klah break. They shuffle towards the other caverns under the first touch of a sprinkling snowfall. Amongst them, Nahia stands as a lone marker for her knot. Cheeks pink under her dark skin, she breathes into her hands, scowling determined eyes at the black smoke of the forge, where voices are distant but audible. With the body mass of a baby animal, it either takes a certain resilience or stupidity - or both - to hover where she does. Brieli might have started through the bowl today with a purpose, but it's not surprising that her purpose has shifted entirely by the time she reaches the craft area, given smell and smoke both. The crowd of crafters draws fine brows together in consternation, and though she's still but a weyrling, she's a goldrider as well, and one not far off from graduation - so it takes her a bit of time to address a few complaints, nodding in agreement, expression sympathetic. Sympathetic, but irritated. Making her way over to Nahia finally, pulling on the ends of a red scarf as she asks, "What's all this about? The rest are too busy being upset about their productivity to explain." Clearly, the Harper is the one to go to. Nahia, black coils littered with a few snowflakes that flutter off when she turns quickly, tilts her head back towards the forge right after seeing Brieli. "Some kind of failure in the forge, ma'am," her rubbing hands drop down to tug on the sides of her jacket, as if they could close any tighter across their bindings, "I'm told," her fingers curl out to indicate a person no longer standing in front of her, who must've excused himself inside the forge - there's notably no smiths in attendance, "The smoke's normal... but the smell isn't." The Harper's voice hovers lightly distant and high, with the concentration of pulling from memory, "Think it's mechanical, not human error, but they're getting to the bottom of it right now. I was hoping to be here to hear when they first came out with the report, but there are things happening to my body right now that I don't understand, and if we went by feel alone, I'd report to you the disturbing news that I no longer own toes." She laughs a little, and it's breathy, but bound and determined. "Brilliant." Brieli is all sarcasm there, so thrilled that there's a problem. And she gets to deal with it! No one filled her in on fun things like annoyed crafters and failing forges. Peering up at the smoke cloud, nose wrinkled, she tells Nahia, "Neither seems all that typical, to be honest. Lovely." Perhaps concerned about a crowd in the bowl after the protests, small though it may be, she turns back to the others, voice raised, "It's almost lunch anyway. Don't stand around here freezing; I'll let you know when the smoke clears." Back to the Harper with a purse of her lips, "Winter's coming early, it seems. Do you want to go in, or just for a bit of a walk to warm up? Iesaryth will tell me if things change." The still-growing dragon can be seen on her ledge for those that look for her, watching the cloud from afar. "Would be rather nasty if the smithery went bust right as the weather turned. Takes a beg and a half to get anyone constructing in that." Because Brieli was looking for more reasons to enjoy this, right? Nahia provides, her lilt as innocent as her observation keen - if somewhat obvious. Squinting at the rise of black clouds, she pulls her shoulders protectively in, "Does smoke sometimes, but not quite like... and with the," her hand traces the intriguing dark wisps, retreating quickly into her jacket pocket. Milling crafters, mostly underclassmen who were hesitating, eagerly take the excuse of a weyrwoman's orders as how they can abandon their work, joining the higher ranks in abandoning the craft area. "Walking's fine!" With a puff of new pink to her cheeks, not quite the weather. She takes a first step, legs swinging to overcompensate for growing stiffness. "Mmph. That's a nice thing, her being able to tell you. I'd have to pay a weyrbrat a chunk a'change to stand somewhere for me." Eyes sort out the queen's ledge, respectful even when staring. "She's not cold?" With a dark look towards the craft area, the smoke, "That would figure. But let's fight my natural inclination to think the worst, and hope for the best." Brieli doesn't seem all that optimistic, but she's fighting for a little today, given the givens. She'll give Nahia a wry curve of a smile after the crafters begin to disperse, noting, "I imagine you'd be the only one who wants to stick around for all of this. And it'll help with the toes, the walking." She'll keep her long legs at a slower stride - as they start away from the smell - to compensate for height, nodding. "It's a benefit, definitely. And she wants to know what's happening anyway. She's always interested. And not cold yet, no. They've thick hides, as much as they pretend otherwise." Toeing a bit of the soft snow that can't quite stick to the bowl in its lightness, Nahia mentions, with a measure of ignorance considering recent circumstances, "My dad always says it's not about the hoping, but about the planning." A puff of breath follows it, almost wistful. It mostly just bounces her curls of tightly strung hair. "It's not so much that I want to stick around, cause-- jumpins!-- I'm cold. But... I don't know. If I don't have the drive now, it's like. What's the point." Fire, some manifestation of that drive, seems to haunt her tone, the eyes that stare ahead as they walk. An overly serious posture for such a young girl, so one she easily sheds with a shivering shrug. "To have a second pair of eyes!" Is lamented, then, "Ah, yeah, guess I've felt them before. What do you mean, pretend? I mean. Not the word pretend... but why?" Quirking her lips, "That might be true. Difficult to plan for mishaps, though I may try." Brieli pauses for a moment, as Nahia's comment offers a bit of an opening. Sliding hands into her pockets, tone as easy as ever, "I was actually hoping to speak to you about... that. Not so much your family as... what's going on. Given your craft and your relations and your general attention to such things, I'd hoped you might be able to offer a bit of clarity on recent events." As for drive, she can offer a smile for that, agreeing, "There's something to be said for putting forth the effort. Maybe get another pair of socks, in the meantime. And it is useful. There's a lot that's useful, honestly." Giving a little laugh, "It's more that some of them are a little melodramatic about winter, even though it doesn't bother them that much. Iesaryth doesn't love it." Head turning to look Brieli fully on, there's no argument in Nahia's gaze, just a desire to be as attentive as possible, some of her youth showing in her hopefulness. "I... I mean I can try? I bet there'd be way more qualified people than me, though." Not that she isn't biting her lip in anticipation, cautiously attempting to measure her words more purposefully than before. Just a small stop in their walking, where she lifts a foot barely off the ground and wiggles the toes special before going on. "Hah! Another pair of socks. Yeah. I like that," she puffs out another low breath, watching it appear in the air then billow off. "Useful's an interesting word..." Noted, she seems to fail to know how to expound on that, so clears her throat and nods ambiguously. "I get it. I'm with her there. Tell her she's right as the rain isn't. Who ever said that about rain? I don't get it." Turning to look at the apprentice in return, Brieli assures, "I'd like to hear it from you, if you don't mind? I don't know about qualified, but if I tell you that you won't be the only person I'm speaking to, would it make you feel better?" She seems a bit amused for all that, continuing, "I'm a bit fuzzy on the specific end goal. I can understand having issues, but I doubt the Weyr Council will be eager to go deposing more Weyrwomen. Nor will the Weyrwomen, I'd guess." Despite the seriousness of the topic, she grins a touch at the wiggle of toes. And she'll allow, "Useful is the right word, though I wouldn't like it to imply that it's all I care about. But there's a lot of information you can find out, from far away, even - just through a simple conversation. She doesn't remember, but I do." Then, with another laugh, "I'll pass it along." "It makes me feel curious," admits Nahia, expression attempting to look the sheepish that is missing in her voice. Unable to find purpose, fingers dive into her jacket pockets, luxuriating in the warmer lining while she schools her face into her impression of serious listening. Plagued with little twitches or squinting reactions she hasn't smoothed out yet, it's still an admirable effort, ending, though, with her lips in a tight uncertain pucker. "Oh, you mean with the protest," she outlines, somewhat less eager. "Dad says that change shouldn't be easy. And that when it happens overnight, the people owe it to show their disapproval." Stilted are the words, though infused with a childhood sense of belief, as they are someone else's words recited from a different mouth by rote. "He's... been talking a lot lately," that in Nahia's range, hesitant enough in the meaning so as to beat her hesitance in saying. Just barely. Her chin lowers then raises as she inhales. "I did mean the protest." Brieli is a bit apologetic, given Nahia's less interested in that. "But if there's something you're curious about, feel free to ask." Her own hands are staying in her pockets for the time being, her stride still easy, if a bit short. And though she might notice the admirable effort to look serious and professional, she doesn't indicate it at all. With a slow nod, "Ah. That's an interesting way of putting it. As if change is the primary issue." Not really seeking confirmation, it seems like a stray thought more than anything." And though that last sharpens her dark gaze, she doesn't turn it on the younger girl, rather the mountains in the distance. Lightly, "A lot of people have been talking a lot. At different Weyrs." "Yeah." Quick, too quick; more to get the affirmation out of the way of the others thought Nahia feels the drive to say. Though it takes a longer second between, silence but for the crunch of their walk, for her to collect it all. "Look," soft, and apologetic in her own, not brusque, "I know you're nearly my weyrwoman, but-- he's my my dad." Almost a plea, with the clear swell of commitment she feels - to both kinds of leaders. "I don't understand everything that's happening, so I don't want to say something, only to have it misconstrued because I didn't have it all." A conflict of interests stirs across her face; that curiosity, alongside the calmer intent to set it aside. Fingers knead into her pocket lining. She hums. "The other Harpers have already decided their statement. And I'm pretty sure it's to have no statement at all. It's like... if you don't talk about something, it didn't happen." Which moves her the wrong way, as she chews a lip more sullenly thoughtful. "I'm sorry." That's immediate too, and Brieli might have a flicker of guilt at that - something that softens into understanding, oddly. Odd for a girl with no family to speak of. "I don't mean to put you in a difficult position. I suppose I'm just hoping to understand a bit better. I appreciate you telling me that, though - about how it might be interpreted. I'm not trying to come to a decision, just..." Giving Nahia a sidelong glance as they walk, she looses a hand to tuck dark hair behind one ear before, "Pretending it didn't happen doesn't help anyone. Whether it's-- people here, or the Harpers, or anyone else." Another quirk of her lips. "I can't say as I blame your fellow crafters. Someone needs to be willing to talk, or listen, though." And if no one else will, she'll put herself out there - though there are certainly weyrfolk who would doubt that the youngest goldrider doesn't have an agenda beyond altruism. Weyrfolk Nahia hasn't spoken to yet, as the girl's expression only lightens; her shoulders softening down. "He's really very smart," she offers in quick admiration. "Keeps my brother in line," is more in jest - of the brother, a smith; coincidentally, the same building smoking doubly behind them. Spurred by the latest words, a determination filters into her forward gaze, distancing it some, but with purpose. Lips rub together anxiously, uncertainly feeling out the words puffing her cheeks with intention. "I am... curious," she works out, laying a foundation that might work as an excuse later, "Did it-- really bother her? Your queen?" She looks at the high above dragon then into Brieli's face. "To see dragons of the Weyr not working together?" In a quieter, more thoughtful tone, "I can imagine that, yes." It's hard to tell whether Brieli's referring to Nahia's father's intelligence, or ability to keep her brother (and loudmouthed friends?) in line. Her attention might drift back to the caverns and the smoke with a little frown, but the apprentice's questions have her quick enough to turn it back to her companion. Now it's her turn to consider, to weigh her words carefully before they come out. "Discord bothers her. And I think it does bother her that... well. That the dragons would go along, that they'd not support Ysavaeth. It's concerning, given everything. How she came to be here in the first place." Compassion, despite, or perhaps overcompensating for, a lack of true understanding colors Nahia's cold-flushed expression, causing her to bite down on her lip and stare ahead even more deeply. Rather than pry, against the grain of fierce curiosity obvious there, she merely reflects with several acknowledging nods. For, like, five whole seconds-- "Because she transferred?" Questioning, but also almost excited at the prospect of guessing correctly - a fact for which she doesn't quite have the blossoming grace yet to look apologetic for. "From Monaco. Even though... they forget, she must pick that up from you. It's funny that all the Harpers or people might want to do is not talk about it to make it disappear, and that's all that a dragon's memory can do. Or-- not funny. Or... I don't think I said it quite right, did I. And, besides, what do I know about dragon minds? I once asked a mindhealer if he worked with the dragons, too. Burrowin' Thread, I was, like nine or something. But still!" "More because--" Brieli takes a moment to decide whether to continue or not, or to give that impression. "Because after she came here, there was some talk of taking us back. Hraedhyth was upset. It was easy enough to upset her, initially. Iesaryth likes things to be calm. And she's actually quite pleased with how she came here. It's 'special'." There's a brief, fond smile - unusual for the goldrider, in public anyway. "She also picks out anything she needs to remember, so it's not that big an issue for her. But it is funny, in a sense. That they forget so easily, and we can't. Won't." That has her smile fading into something more rueful before, "I should likely go speak to the headwoman about this--" A nod for the billowing smoke. "Before it gets much worse. I do appreciate the insight, Nahia. I'll try to avoid... this sort of thing in the future." Putting her in a conflict of interest, likely. Nahia's thoughtful enough to scrunch her mouth in respect for the notion, even if she, herself, has no personal experience to truly deepen that pool. Her smile reflecting the gold rider's sticks better, making her nod more cheery than pensive. "Thank you, ma'am, for understanding. Please," understand, "I do want to help. My well wishes to queen Iesaryth and, uh, maybe I'll just... nip in for a mulled klah or such before I pick up the sentry again..." Wrestling with convincing her own brain that the excuse isn't an excuse, her last squint at Brieli might look fairly sheepish as she bites her lip and starts moving stiff little limbs for the caverns. Walking certainly helped, but so would a warm drink. By then, there's a high probability that the Smiths will have prepared an incident statement for those in charge. "I'll let you know when I do." Brieli can at least promise that, so Nahia can warm up without too much guilt. "And if there's anything you can tell me, or anything to pass on, do let me know. If it's not an issue. And I'll pass that on." With a little wave and a flash of a grin, she starts off towards the craft area with a grimace, determined in her stride, at the very least. |
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