Logs:Hiding
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 28 April, 2012 |
| Who: Damaris, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Damaris is hiding from the aftermath of Ysavaeth's flight. Quinlys is too. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 8, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tiriana/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
  |
| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.
Quinlys' pale blue sundress has seen better days, and so has her hair, which doesn't look like it's been brushed recently and has turned fluffy and matted as a result. The bluerider's bare feet pad across the bridge at a steady pace, faltering only once she gets to the far end of it - right, in fact, as she catches sight of Damaris on her rock. "Hey," she says, aiming her tone low and as light as she can make it. "I almost didn't see you there." Oh, she's being spoken to. Damaris shifts, rolls to her stomach, peers down off the side of her rock. Quinlys is studied for a moment before she puts on a smile, apparently deciding the bluerider is harmless. "Hey," she returns, tone threading with a little put-on humor. "That was sort of the point, but it's alright. You look like you're having a rough day, huh?" A sympathetic smile curves her lips up at the corners. "You alright?" "I hate gold flights," is Quinlys' rueful admission. "I'm never so glad I didn't Impress Ysavaeth as when I'm reminded of them. 'least Olly doesn't chase in them, either." The bluerider indicates the stairs leading up towards the cliff with a tip of her head, adding, then, "I was just going to jump into the water and hope the rush would be enough to wear it all off. I won't bother you." That may have been so, but now that she's found Damaris, she hasn't taken another step. "That's helpful, I'm sure," Damaris says, shifting around and sitting up, scooting to the edge of her rock. She's still up and out of reach where she is, but it's at least a little more friendly. Her hands come up, shove her hair back from her face. "I hate them, too. I mean, I'm sure it's nowhere near as bad for me as it is for you or the other riders, but still." A headshake. "Jumping into the water would probably help. It's cold. I don't know, though." She shrugs, sends down a wan smile. Quinlys stays where she is, except to rest her arms on the railing of the little bridge and brace herself against it. "The easiest solution is always to go and find someone to sleep with," she allows, though from the sounds of it, it's not an option she's terribly interested in. "Or to get drunk. I resent that something I'm not involved in can impact me so much, you know? Sort of harder for you non-riders, in a way, anyway. At least we're used to what flights can do." Beat. "I should've just left the Weyr for the day, but I was worried about Iolene." "I've lived here long enough, I should know what they do, too," Damaris complains, lifting and dropping her shoulders in a lazy sort of shrug. "And I - yeah, it's probably easiest to go sleep with somebody or get drunk or whatever, and I will probably still go get drunk, but while everything is as crazy as it is and others are _looking_ for that person to sleep with, it's just easier to stay off in a corner and wait it out somewhere. I don't have to deal with a dragon being wound up at me, either. So I can. A little easier." "It's not quite the same, until you've been part of a flight," is Quinlys' opinion, made with a twist of her mouth. "I don't think I entirely understood until Olly chased the first time, and I've lived here all my life. But - yeah." Her hands grip suddenly more tightly to the railing, and for a moment or two, it takes away her words and leaves her with only a nod. Then, eventually, "I know what you mean. I'd rather avoid it all. It's-- messy. People not thinking. At least it doesn't happen often." "Thankfully," Damaris agrees, giving a little mock shudder. It's followed with a smile, that's only a little bit wry. "I'm just saying it's harder on you riders, that's all - not that I understand what you're going through. Because I don't. This is one of those times when I am definitely glad I just work in the kitchens, you know? And thankfully I have this afternoon and evening off, so I don't have to go be pawed at for the rest of the night, either." Hurriedly; "Right, right, of course." One of Quinlys' hands works free from the railing so that she can wave it, emphasising that yes, she understands the point. Her brain is clearly not all there, right now, and it shows. "Mm. I'd hate to be one of the people on duty, that's for sure. Particularly up in the Snowasis. To be honest, I'm surprised there aren't more people down here." Her head turns, glancing behind her at the beach, and the lake itself. "I guess there's no booze here." Turning back, she adds, "I can't believe K'del let Cadejoth chase." Tilting her head, Damaris gives Quinlys a curious sort of look. One foot swings, her heel thudding against the rock. She's got pent up energy, trying to find an outlet. "Why not?" Idle curiosity, there. "This sort of thing messes people up, I can't imagine he'd be immune to that." Thud, thud. "And there are a lot of people hiding out down here, just they haven't bothered to come this far out, and are mostly just hooking up anyway. I'm sure there are others hiding around. It's just, not effective, if you can see them." "Tiriana's going to murder him," is Quinlys' explanation for that, and there's clearly no doubt in her mind about it. "He probably should have left the Weyr earlier today, when Tiriana and Lujayn did, just to make sure. It was a pretty dumb move." The bluerider drops, suddenly, into a sitting position, with her legs dangling off the side of the bridge. So much for jumping off the cliff, apparently. "Mm, you're probably right." One hand scrubs at her face, the other twists the hem of her sundress between two fingers. "I should leave you alone." But she isn't. "S'not any of my business to speculate on why anyone didn't do what they should've," Damaris replies with a shrug, turning her eyes towards the water and again pushing hair out of her face. Fidget. "I'm sure he had his reasons for staying." A hand comes up, to rub at the back of her neck, and the look she shoots over towards the now sitting bluerider is only a little bit uncomfortable. "You keep saying that, and then making yourself more comfortable," she points out, softening the potentially blunt words with a wry smile. Wry smile or no wry smile, Quinlys looks embarrassed, pink cheeks and all. "I'm sorry," she says, ostensibly genuinely. "Do you want me to go? I really don't mind going. My head is just not all here, and you're talking to me and not trying to get into the pants I'm not currently wearing, and that's - nice. It's distracting. Well." The right corner of her mouth twitches upwards. "A little distracting, anyway. I guess you're right about speculating. I just worry. It's better around here when the Weyrleaders aren't arguing." She laughs and shakes her head, grinning when the other woman's cheeks color. "No," Damaris says, shaking her head again. "You don't have to, as long as you're really aware that I honestly am not going to go anywhere near your figurative pants. Talking is fine, at this point. I'm mostly back to my senses, just a little on edge. So yeah, it's distracting." Beat. "I'm Damaris, by the way. And I'm sure it is nicer, when they aren't fighting? But...I don't know. They're the Weyrleaders." "I promise," says Quinlys, one hand going to her heart. "I'm not trying to get into your pants here, nor encouraging you into mine, Damaris. Quinlys." She splashes her feet idly in the water, kicking up a few waves that don't make it too far out into open water. "Oh, it's just - I don't know. People are worked up enough about other stuff, it's just easier if it seems like the Weyrleaders are in accord and not just sniping at each other. Maybe it'll be okay. I hope Io is. And then there'll be eggs, which is clearly the best part about gold flights." She rolls back onto the rock, so that she can lay on her back with her head over the edge, eyes trained on Quinlys. Damaris offers over a smile, though it's still a little wry. "We are all good, then," she says. "It's nice to meet you, Quinlys." Beat. "And yeah. I mean, it's stressful. I'm sure. For everyone. We feel it in the kitchens, even. But I don't know. Being supportive is good. Stirring people up over it is likely to make it worse, not better. You know?" Beat. "And...clearly, the best part." "Yeah, I guess," says Quinlys, with another of those rueful smiles that speaks a lot to how not-entirely-with-it she really is. Her hand runs through her hair, working through the tangles with patient effort, as she adds, "I'll try and stop thinking about it. No need to make it worse, you're right. Speculation. Speculation is bad. I'm thinking about maybe asking if I can help with the Weyrlings, this time. I think I'd like that, and we're a turn out of weyrlinghood, so maybe that's long enough? I hope." Beat. "You probably don't need to hear about my ambitions, I know. At least you'll have extra hands in the kitchens for a while." "I'm sure that they'd probably welcome you helping out with the Weyrlings," Damaris encourages with a smile, tone and expression all touched with reassurance. "You seem friendly and nice, and I imagine that's something that those going through that whole process could really use. You might as well ask, you know? If they say no, they say no." Beat. "And yes, it's nice to have the extra help in the kitchen. It always is." Quinlys' response is fervent. "I hope so. I'll ask, anyway. At least then they know I'm interested, so they can think of me in the future when they think I'm ready. I think... I mean, I'd be closer in age to them than a lot of the staff, and that could help. So we'll see." She flashes the other girl a bright smile, evidently well pleased with it. "Even when they do dumb things? I seem to remember doing a lot of dumb things, the first time around. I guess I was young, and excited." "Even when they do dumb things," Damaris agrees, laughing. "I do dumb things all the time still though, and I've been working in there for two years." She's of the sort to be hanging upside-down on a rock though, so perhaps the doing dumb things clarification didn't need to be spoken. But hey. "It's fun, it's interesting. It's a change in routine, and there's a lot more laughing. I don't know, I like having them in there." Beat. "And yes, at least...showing you're interested. It's a very good idea. Can't get what you want if you don't ask for it, anyway." It makes Quinlys laugh - a genuine, light-hearted laugh, too. "I guess I still do dumb stuff, too, sometimes. It's not the kind of thing you grow out of overnight." Her nod is enthusiastic; she says, then, "I like teenagers. I like working with them. I don't think I want kids of my own, you know? But I'd like to work with them, at that age. So we'll see." With a sigh, she pulls herself back to her feet, and adds, "I'm going to go jump off that cliff, now. But - I'll see if I can get some fun ones for you. Candidates, I mean." She's silent for a long few moments, staring at Quinlys a little wide eyes. "Yes, them. They're so fun. At that age." Deadpan. Mind, she looks like she's about seventeen turns, herself. Still, it's chased with laughter and a bright smile. "Good luck. And have fun with jumping off the cliff. And - I'd appreciate that. Getting fun candidates. It always makes it so much better." "Oh, shut up," says Quinlys, more teasingly than unkind. "I meant more the younger ones; they're the ones who seem to need the most help. But if you want me to play the elder for you, too--" Grinning, she wipes her hands down on the skirt of her dress, then takes off for the slippery stairs, one after another. A few minutes later? That giant splash, further out in the lake, would be her descent. |
Leave A Comment