Logs:Campaign Colorblind
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| RL Date: 1 July, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, G'mli |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Brownrider G'mli swears he has the solution to Azaylia's Weyrleader problem. She's not so sure. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms. Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them. Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outside each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves. Deep within the storerooms, past the open caverns and towards the locked provisions is where one Acting Weyrwoman and a kitchen worker are talking. The older woman's voice is naturally energetic, echoing off the whitewashed walls some, a contrast to Azaylia's whisper-soft tone. They're both looking over the inventory that's typically hung on one of the locked caverns, not quite arguing but the goldrider is being emphatically informed of something. "Oh. Well, if you're sure." The weyrwoman allows with an uncertain smile, hanging the inventory page back up, "Thank you, Marta." The worker seems pleased, offering her own pleasantries with a curt nod before turning to head back out of the stores and into the kitchen. One of Snowdrift's stockier brownriders comes around the corner, bowlegged stride making him seem to waddle slightly. He tugs at his beard, eyes twinkling as he nods his head to Marta in passing. It's when he spots Azaylia, however, that G'mli speaks, his own voice putting the kitchen worker's to shame. "Ahhhh! Azaylia! Shells, girl, you're a hard one to track down," he announces, heading straight for her. Broad of shoulder but no taller than Azaylia, he plants himself right where he needs to, making sure the other rider can't just slip away. "I've had a mind to chat with you about something. Two minutes of your time! I promise." his voice booms, echoing slightly off the walls. It's a good thing the page is already hanging safely by the time G'mli approaches, Azaylia letting out a startled squeak and giving a little jump. "M-me?" Of course, her. Standing a little straighter, the weyrwoman's smile is slightly strained but none the less welcoming. "I have two minutes." She tries to joke, looking to take a step and finding the brownrider right in front of her. Accommodating, she decides to stay where she is with hands folded in front of her, "What did you want to talk about?" G'mli, looking pleased with himself, plants his fists on his hips. "It's about your other half," he says, almost in an undertone, though the volume jumps again the next moment with, "or should I say, your missing half. It seems clear to me you just aren't looking at the right riders!" He straightens to his full height so he's eye-to-eye with Azaylia. "See, you need someone smooth. Refined. Good with the other riders, and strong enough," emphasizing by suddenly punching a fist into his palm, "to not end up in this current mess." Dark eyes twinkle again as he presumably smiles at her, though his bushy beard makes it hard to see. "What you need, my dear, is me." "Hraedhyth?" Azaylia's quiet guess is drowned out by the brownrider's exhuberance, which is probably for the best. Blinking wide, curious eyes at the brownrider, it doesn't take as long for the weyrwoman to realize what this is all about. There's a start at the meaty smack of fist against palm, but other than that she's wearing a bright smile. "Oh." Things may seem to be going in the Snowdrift rider's favor until, "Thank you for showing an interest..?" Just as sweet as the rest of her words, asking for his name. "But I'm not... I don't think another brownrider is what's best for the Weyr right now." Just like that, he's out of smiles, bushy eyebrows drawing down while dark eyes squint at Azaylia. "Oh ye don't, eh?" he asks, far too quiet, relatively. He puts his fists on his hips again and blows out his mustache with a huff. "Just because you lot ended up with the wrong brownriders..." he grumbles, voice rumbling down to an unintelligible grumble as he looks away, then to the list on the wall, then back to Azaylia. "Know what that is?" he asks, far too nicely to be a good thing. Voice booms once more with "That's profiling, that's what that is!" Voice drops again to an icy near whisper. "You're missing the only chance to save the Weyr, girl, an' it's on your shoulders." Where other people might storm off at that point, G'mli continues to stare at the goldrider, hands still on fists, bulk still blocking the way to freedom. "It might be." Azaylia admits, airy voice carrying a thoughtful note as she does. "I just don't think it's what the Weyr needs--" Her explanation is cut off by G'mli's chilly accusation, the Acting Weyrwoman straightening suddenly, surprise obvious. When those don't seem to be his parting words, her shocked expression begins to melt into a firm stare. Not a glare. "There's always more than one way to fix things." That abandoned step is taken, uncomfortable but still invading the brownrider's space as she states firmly, quietly, "It is on my shoulders. And I'm not going to replace a... a bossy, a-arrogant brownrider with another one." Unintentionally mirroring his confident stance, her own fists rest on her hips, chin titled to try and gain a whisper of height on him. Inexplicably, G'mli's face falls when Azaylia implies he's that other bossy brownrider. "Arrogant?" he asks, sounding genuinely hurt for a moment. Busy brows draw in and up and lips purse, pushing out his mustache slightly, though it's hard to tell with all that beard. "I... I didn't mean..." He has nothing else, however, and steps back from the other rider, giving her plenty of room should she want it. The hands that had been at his hips are now worrying the bottom of his beard, not quite tangling it, but not making it any better either. The weyrwoman stands her ground as G'mli falters, possibly not believing how quickly he's gone from being yes, arrogant, to not. Azaylia continues to watch as G'mli tries to find the words, her stern expression fading only after he pulls back. She takes a step forward, falters, and turns towards the brownrider. "You're not the first person to do this." Is she actually trying to soothe his worry? Of course she is. "If... if maybe you'd like to give me some advice on other riders?" There's always more than one way to help. G'mli, so recently staring directly at Azaylia, is now looking anywhere but. For whatever reason, those previous words hit a chord, and he's still struggling with it. He's not going to cry or anything, but those dark eyes of his do get a bit more glittery than they were a moment earlier, and the booming voice is entirely gone. "No... no." Oops, his fingers twisted some of that hair into a tangle, so he starts smoothing it out. "My apologies... ma'am. It's just..." He's finally able to look at her face again, if fleetingly. "It was such a big deal in the beginning. It was... a new dawn in a way." He forces his hands away from from the beard-fidgeting. "We went from being the not-bronzeriders to... something. With potential. But if it's a bronzerider you want, well." One of his hands waves backhanded toward the exit from the storerooms. "He's certainly out there somewhere, and good luck to you." There's no doubt that his words have struck a chord, Azaylia's face falling into a pained, pinched wince. "I... That isn't what I... Of course brownriders are..." Now it's she who can't seem to find the words. "If Taikrin hadn't..." She gives up, sparing G'mli her insistent explanations; those beliefs that she so wishes were more wide spread. Instead, "I'm sorry." He may not have meant to dismiss her with those backhanded waves, but the weyrwoman takes it as such. Her retreat is a quick one, afraid of doing anymore damage. G'mli will just stand here for a few more moments. Composing himself? Noooo, he's fine. Fine. He watches Azaylia as she leaves, his glance askance and possibly a little guilty, though it's hard to tell with all that hair. Just after the weyrwoman is out of sight, there is a sound that closely resembles a foghorn. Either there's inclement weather entering the storerooms, or a certain downtrodden brownrider just blew his nose. Said brownrider then announces to the empty room that he needs a drink. And so he goes, damage done. |
Comments
Zian (Zian (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 02 Jul 2013 04:04:24 GMT.
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G'mli for Weyrleader. :D
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