Logs:Maybe
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| RL Date: 11 January, 2014 |
| Who: Edyis, Rhey |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two teens of Nabolese extraction meet. Edyis manages what no one else has, thus far. |
| Where: Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 10, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
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| Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr Thrusting out from the shadow of the mountain, this long and narrow clifftop might once have been a ledge, but a pile of bramble-strewn, graffiti-chiseled boulders where a weyr's mouth would have been suggests a reason for its abandonment long ago. Though its views of the eastern bowl are grand, particularly the lake itself and the yawning air entrance to the hatching sands, its location makes the diving cliff unique: jutting some ten or twelve feet above the deepest part of the cool, clear lake. Especially in summertime, many climb up the narrow stairs to seek the thrill of a swift fall into the water, but those who just want to enjoy the view can take those same stairs back down: carved directly into the bowl wall, worn and crumbling and slick from use, but enough for the careful to get the job done. With the change of season, not so many people come up to the diving cliff, these days: it's cold, and there's not much by way of protection from the wind. That's likely a good part of the reason why Rhey is up here, though, bundled up in an ill-fitting jacket, and sitting far enough back from the edge of the cliff that he's neither visible from below, nor likely to be taking in the view. The boy has his knees drawn up towards his chest, both arms wrapped around them, though not in a terribly protective way: he stares out towards the distant horizon, or perhaps, more likely, out into nothing. Edyis isn't exactly crazy. She's just something of a closet perfectionist and closet perfectionists need quiet to perfect. She'd tried almost about everywhere inside the weyr, but these days the cold drove people indoors. So fussing children and chattering women were near the hearths. Master Jeroman was on a cleaning spree in the records room, and she'd never found a moments peace in the resident barracks. The light is good here, even if it's cold, and she's bundled up in whatever she could find in the stores. She just didn't expect the place to be occupied. "Oh, hello. Rh'mis isn't it, the one who had who impressed from the stands?" Very obviously, Rhey did not expect anyone else to come here, either: the sound of Edyis' approaching footsteps has his head turning sharply, and the expression on his face as she appears is wary and watchful. "Rhey," he corrects her, with an intensity and irritation that likely stems from many months of argument on the subject. Given he doesn't correct the rest, however, it does seem likely that she's identified him correctly. "Sorry, Rhey" She amends, which does sound better than Rh'mis in her estimation, or at least it sounds less like a pun waiting to happen. There's the faintest hint of a smile at the edges of her mouth, "Not adjusting well I take it?" a Nabolese accent coloring her speech. "Mind if I join you for a minute?" Rh'mis' shrug is terribly teenage, but it doesn't tell her to go away and get lost, so perhaps it works as an invitation. The weyrling himself doesn't move except to turn his gaze away from the Nabolese girl, back to staring out past the lake, and the opposite wall of the bowl beyond. "I'm fine," he insists, even if refusing to answer by his new name after seven odd months probably suggests he's not, not really. His accent also places him from Nabol, though that's not surprising: wherever he may have come from originally, reputation certainly has him from Nabol in at least the mid-term. "Of course you are. We all are." She states diplomatically fishing the journal from her bag, She must mean the Nabolese from the inflection in the words. If she studies him, it is from the corner of her eye as she flips through pages of neatly wrought script and illustration. Making a small notation with a stick of char in one of the blank spaces, before gazing off into the bowl. "It isn't like everything has altered itself again after all, leaving everyone staring at an unfamiliar game board while missing the key pieces." The sudden snort of not-quite-laughter that answers this last of Edyis' statements may not have been intended to be so audible. Or so bitter. Certainly, Rhey goes back to silence afterwards for long seconds. Finally: "Why are you still here? Now that everything is sorted. It's a whole new Nabol, ready and waiting." It's her turn to laugh, but it isn't bitterness, which colors hers. "A whole new Nabol, except that after things settle down it will probably end up being very much like the old Nabol. Why go back to a life where I feel the limitations of traditional obligation and ignoble birth? Here at least, even tiny contributions can help shape the future." The char stick scratches against the page again. "Not to mention the quality of the education that would otherwise be unavailable." "There were opportunities there for those who took them," says Rhey, and he clearly can't help himself: he sounds wistful, full of regret. "I took them. I had a place, there. What is there for me here?" Her perspective is so different to his, so entirely opposite, that he turns to look at her, now, as if in doing so he can figure out where she's coming from. There's a wry smile, "Sure, but you are at the edge of the spinner's web. A Weyr is its center, a link beyond trade, which connects them all. When I was in Esvay, there was nothing I could do about the burned fields. I didn't have the authority, nor the resources. Because I paid attention to the people around me, I was able to present that plight to someone who could not only empathize, but had the ability to do something about it." There's something of a proud smile, "It could be that what I did had absolutely no impact on the weyr helping the farmers replant the crops, or on Lady Ienavi's decision to go to Crom, for the seed, but by being in a position near the web's center, I had the ability to do something that was in my power. Which was nothing more than present a packet of data and an idea, and a change occurred..." Rh'mis listens, first with dismissiveness, then dubiousness, and finally something less quantifiable. "Perhaps at your hold there was nothing you could do," he agrees, finally. "But at Nabol... I had connections, at Nabol. Eyes and ears." It's more than he's said about his past to most people, and it's half possible he's not even really aware he's still talking, so reflective and quiet is he. "I have none of that, here. I'm just a cog. A pawn." That draws her attention, and she regards the boy with a mixture of respect and intense study. "Pawns, often can be the most dangerous pieces because everyone underestimates them." She is silent for a few moments as she mulls several thoughts over. "You are actually in a better position than you think." "'Pawn' may be the wrong analogy," muses Rhey, before shrugging. Edyis' regard seems to make him uncomfortable: he sits stiffly, warily, watchfully. "Besides, half the Weyr still see me as a thief, or maybe a murderer." "Let me let you in on a little secret, Half the weyr is going to dislike anybody for any variety of reasons. Just pick up any record on the history of the weyr leadership if you want proof." She shakes her head, "I envy you to be honest. You have a dragon who will eventually be able to get you anywhere in the space it takes to cough three times. You have the knowledge on how to build a network for gathering information, and you have one network already in place in an area that is adjusting to a complete unknown for it's new leader." She shakes her head, "From where I sit you've got more power than most, once you figure out how to use it." Turning her attention back to the notebook. "I mean knowing that Lady Crom married for seed, and knowing that someone in that room had to campaign pretty hard to change the minds of the lords - add to that that your already in the place where the information could be the most valuable." After all of that - or really, during all of that - Rhey goes quite silent. There's a redness to his cheeks that suggests he's uncomfortable with what she's saying, but nothing in his expression gives any genuine argument. He opens his mouth, as though to argue, but... he's apparently got nothing. The nonchalance in her smile as she makes a few more notes is possibly deceptive, even if the smile is genuine. She focuses on making a few more notes in the book, thumbing back and forth between pages as though referencing information. Possibly trying to deduce what exactly is going on in his head, patiently she waits for him to speak. Rh'mis' answer, when it comes, is much more petulant than he would probably like it to do be. "I didn't ask for this," he says. "It's not what I wanted." Yeah, no kidding. Brown eyes drift back from the notebook, "I know it isn't." She responds softly. The book gets tucked away and she stretches her legs out. "What did you want? I mean before all of it." Someone better emotionally adjusted might register, at this point, that perhaps Edyis might have asked for it... and that would be awkward. But he's not, and still he thinks about himself. "I wanted to go on as I was. I was well placed; I was finding things out. I had... leverage. I had a crew." He belonged. It isn't hard to understand why Rone would make his army out of young boys, when you considered that he offered what most of them wanted, a place to belong. It was something she could certainly relate to these days. "And you don't feel like you belong here?" Her sweet soprano is still just as gentle as she pulls her knees to her chin, watching him. "He belongs here," is Rhey's answer; this time, there's no delay, and no hesitation. His voice is gruff - or, at least, as gruff as it gets. "I'm just attached to him." Quiet consideration is given to those words. "You could make a place for yourself here." She hesitates, "I know it's not what you want, but it might be worth trying? You are more than just your dragon." Again, Rhey seems to be at a loss over what to say. "Maybe," is what he goes with, finally. "Maybe." And then: "I don't know. I need to go." His discomfort is so obvious-- it's pretty clear that his need to leave has less to do with any other pressing engagements, and more to do with his own state of mind, and what Edyis is drawing out of him. It's uncomfortable. She looks at him, that smile somewhat sad. She seems to make up her mind about something, and when she stands, the smile warms. "Well regardless of what you decide, I was wondering if you may be interested in hanging out from time to time. I don't know if you play chess or anything like that, but I could use someone to practice with?" She extends a hand over to him, offering to help him up if he allows, or sits still for that long. Rh'mis is all wariness for the offered hand, and yet after staring at it for several seconds, he reaches out and takes it anyway. Standing, he hesitates all over again. "Maybe," he says, word of the day as it is. And, "Maybe you could teach me. Maybe." But now he's going to make a dash for the path, and (hopefully) not slip as he tries to run down the stairs. |
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