Logs:Of Important Work
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| RL Date: 17 July, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'dur, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 5, Turn 8 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 17:14 on day 31, month 5, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon. You walk past the lintel and into the wide living cavern. Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern(#750RDJM$) This huge cavern is sufficiently roomy to hold a large portion of the Weyr's population without feeling cramped. There's always a bustle of activity here. Fragrant dishes are constantly in prepartion for mealtimes: currently for the evening meal. Drudges are always present, either cleaning under Pierron's watchful eye, or helping fetch and carry. A myriad of glowbaskets and many ever-lit hearths make the cavern warm and inviting despite its size. The scents of cooking meats, baking breads and pastries, and the pungent aroma of spices hang mouthwateringly in the air. It is little wonder that those seeking to relax nearly always find their way here to do it. The tables are decorated with a multitude of bright spring flowers. A short tunnel jaunts northward out to the bowl and the merry sounds of cooking, chores, and laughter echo from the kitchen at the southeast end of the cavern near the easterly passage to the rest of the lower caverns. Within the lower caverns is an entrance to the infirmary weyr to care for injured dragons and riders. Contents: PLAYERS: R'hin R'dur Pierron OTHER: Telgar Serving Tables Obvious Exits: Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl R'dur is standing near the door, still talking quietly to those two candidates. "Yes, of course. I'll--I'll take you back as soon as we can. But do--do stay and enjoy the feast some? It's still for you, even if... even if..." He trails off and only offers the pair a strained, sad smile. M'wen walks in from the bowl. M'wen has arrived. Despite the bustling nature of the Telgar living caverns, R'hin raises his voice for anyone nearby, calling, "Ho, Telgar! Congratulations on your newest weyrlings. Fine pairings, just fine." Hands spread wide, he brings them together in a brief clap, before glancing at M'wen and gesturing towards the feasting tables. "Well, my good brownrider, shall we?" He seems in a jovial mood as he moves further inside. M'wen follows R'hin in, giving just a grin to the assembled instead of a greeting of R'hin's level. Following R'hins arm to the feasting tables, he smiles, nodding, R'hin's good mood infectious, "After you, good bronzerider." And he starts towards the food. R'dur glances around at that shout, blinking briefly and knitting his brows, before turning back to his companions. He shares a few more quiet words for them and then they turn and slip away, leaving the brownrider to survey the party in some bewilderment. Finally, he heads for the food tables himself, noting the passage of M'wen and R'hin just ahead. He hesitates, then steps forward to intercept them with a small smile. "Um. Good afternoon. I see--I see you did make it after all. Thank you," he tells the pair. Then, gesturing at the feast on the tables, he adds, "You'll join us for a meal, won't you?" Nevermind they were already working that way. With a grin to his fellow 'Reachian, R'hin makes his way to the serving tables, grabbing a plate and putting food on it - not piled too high, but just enough that he's not skimping. "It's much less stressful seeing a hatching from up there. Great view, too." As R'dur greets him, he offers a grin for the Telgarian. "R'dur! Of course, of course. I'm a man of my word," he says with a grin, executing a half bow, glint of humor in his eyes as he straightens. "No one got injured, as far as I can tell - you were concerned for nothing." He nods agreeably to the mention of a meal, nodding his head towards his plate as he moves along in the line. "Certainly." M'wen follows behind R'hin, grabbing a plate and beginning to get all the good looking food about piled up on it. Seeing R'dur, a grin splits his face, "Of course we came, wouldn't miss it for anything!" He turns back to the food and grabs some still steaming meatrolls. Seeing his plate full he walks around to find an empty-ish table and sits down, waiting for R'hin to fisish his food getting. "I think," notes R'dur with a grimace, "the concern was valid, even if nothing /did/ happen." He falls into line with the two former weyrlings then, picking up his own plate. "I'm still relieved, though--I, uh... I thought I was going to faint out there, when the first one hatched. It turned out so well, though--I'm so thrilled. Two of Alidaeth's impressed, E'tyn and A'red. He's so smug about it all now. How are you, though? I heard you graduated already?" He turns to study the food, taking a few items and arranging them very carefully, nothing touching anything else. R'hin drops into the seat next to M'wen, setting his plate down and beginning to pick at the food, curling a bit of fish with some of the bread. "Two?" he echoes R'dur in surprise. "Congratulations. I wonder if Maxeoth will be as good a search dragon," he muses, glancing at M'wen. "Not that any of our queens seem to be close to rising yet." He nods with a flicker of grin and wave of his hand, "Surprising as it is, yes." The bronzerider remarks dryly, as he chews. "Show went off without a hitch, too, thanks to M'wen here." M'wen tries to speak, but it seems R'dur and R'hin chose just when he took a big bite of pastry to speak. Chewing quickly, but still making sure not to choke, he gets out, "He thinks he will be...". Finishing up whats in his mouth, he coughs slightly, "And thats good enough evidence for me....Well you can't really tell with queens, but i'm not really sure about their rising habits..." He takes a long drink on some unidentified red juice, and adds, "Yeah, you guys did great, I was scared the whole time one of you were going to get out of formation or something and mes up all our practice.." R'dur finishes loading his plate meticulously and turns to trail the two other riders to a seat. "Congratulations, then. Have either of you been tapped yet?" the brownrider inquires as he settles himself, his mealspace arranged as neatly at anything else. The boy has too much time on his hands. "Alidaeth, though, hasn't had much luck in the past, but this time he's thrilled. E'tyn's bronze seemed a good sort, and A'red's brown..." Well, he has a wry smile for that particular brown's antics, continuing lightly, "Perhaps yours will, though--I wonder sometimes how much of their ability is luck and how much skill, but at any rate, some dragons seem to have more of both." "Does he?" Intrigued, R'hin tips his head towards M'wen. "Interesting." A pause, then, "Leiventh's being non-committal. I don't think most bronzes tend to be search dragons anyway." He looks a little sheepish, as he admits in a slight undertone, "I've been going through the records to see their cycles." With a brief shrug, he grins and reaches for another bit of bread, using it to sop up some of the juices from the meat. "How does Alidaeth say he knows?" he asks R'dur, with a furrowing of brow. "Or is it one of those things they're vague and yet certain about?" Leiventh> To you, Leiventh seems rather disinterested in the talk of search, truth be told. M'wen nods his head, slightly confused, "For once, its something he seems pretty sure about, but maybe thats just braggin on his part." The corner of his mouth raises slightly, "I can't really picture Leiventh doing grunt work like searching, nor you for that matter." He then turns to R'dur, interested in the answer to R'hin's query. R'dur lifts his shoulders slightly, remarking, "Most of them seem to not be as good, but you never know. Alidaeth is... Hmm. He just says he knows." He frowns, pausing, and pushes a few peas around on his plate. "He's a very lucky sort of dragon, though, very good at finding these things. Explaining himself, though... Well." He shakes his head slightly and takes another couple of bites, working solely on his peas for the moment, the rest of his food left untouched. "I suppose you'll find out yourselves, when High Reaches has another clutch. It probably will be... soonish, perhaps? After all, you've already graduated, so." He shrugs. "Grunt work!" R'hin echoes, rather sharply - and probably more loudly - than he means. Voice drops a second later, intent, "M'wen, searching is the most -important- part. You're selecting who will impress the dragons of the next clutch. There's no job more important than that." He gives a sharp nod to emphasize his point, frowning briefly at R'dur, more through the lack of any details than anything. "I suppose that's to be expected. Dragons can be an awfully cagey lot about certain issues, I've found." A hint of humor creeps back into his voice as he picks at his meal. R'dur's brows knit at the intense nature of R'hin's voice, the brownrider leaning away and poking at his food again, staring at it rather than either of the High Reaches riders. He doesn't look up again until R'hin's latter words draw his eyes back upward. He shrugs, flushing. "Alidaeth can be, when he wants to act mysterious and all-knowing. Which is usually when he /doesn't/ know himself. I'm sorry." "It may be important, but so are many things you have put below yourself. Considering the final decision is one by the dragon, if an unacceptable candidate is accidentally searched, there is no way he will impress. I think you are putting the highest importance in the wrong place." M'wen retorts, not angry, but with a sharp tone. "Maybe its something instinctual, so they don't even know themselves how it works?" With an easy chuckle, R'hin gestures vaguely to dismiss R'dur's concern. "Not to worry, my good Telgarian. I'm guessing that, much as with anything, every dragon'll have a different opinion on the issue anyway." A pause, then, "Who were the other weyrlings searched by?" M'wen's comment earns a thoughtful look from the scruffy-haired man, chewing slowly. "That's assuming impression itself isn't random - and who knows? One dragon might think someone is suitable to be a candidate, and another might reject that same person." He keeps his voice low, aware that his theory might not be a particularly popular one. The budding debate bows R'dur's head once more, as he works on finishing his peas. Only then does he move around his plate to his tubers, studying them rather than either weyrling. "I--I'm not entirely sure. I know them all, but that's--that's too much to keep up with. I'm sure I have it written down somewhere in my weyr, though, if you'd like to check?" he volunteers helpfully. On the issue of the relative importance of different activities, he doesn't weigh in--let alone on the issue of randomness. "Maybe your on to something with that randomness idea, I can't think of any other reason a dragon would choose you." The sharp tone is gone, but M'wen continues albeit slightly more light-heartedly. "Did you search only those two or others? Because 2 out of 2 would be quite good, and I'd commend your dragons abilities to search, or your luck as the case may be." "Oh, no, don't trouble yourself. It was curiousity, really," R'hin dismisses R'dur's offer with a shake of his head, pushing aside his plate. He's finished almost all of it, a few scraps still left here and there. With a twitch of lips, the bronzerider seems to agree with more seriousness than one would think due to M'wen's light-hearted statement. "Exactly. But then, it was Moll's Vmireth that searched me, and she's... well, she's an interesting woman," he settles for, diplomatic. Head tips, curiously, glancing at R'dur for his response to M'wen. "It's not a trouble, really. I don't mind," insists R'dur earnestly, determined to be helpful. Then, blushing, he backs off, returning to his meal for a second before answering, still looking at it, "Ah. Let's see. There was Sabi and A'red, who were the only ones who impressed. We also searched a couple of others, so I suppose that makes the rate about fifty percent?" M'wen walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl. M'wen has left. "Well," R'hin suggests thoughtfully, "Maybe you can get them next time - I'm of a mind to come back and visit, particularly since I didn't get to see your lovely Weyrsecond this evening," he adds with a grin. "Fifty percent," he echoes, thoughtfully, "That's not bad at all." He lifts a hand by way of farewell when M'wen's abruptly called back to High Reaches, glancing after his fellow 'Reachian for a moment. R'dur offers M'wen a good-bye as the brownrider exits, before turning back to R'hin. Left alone with the other man, he seems a little fidgety again. "I--I suppose not," he agrees. Pause. "Our who?" He looks sharply up at R'hin, regarding him with a dubious frown. "How is it, that you know Yselle? Sir?" When in doubt, use titles. Wide-eyed, affecting pure innocence, R'hin points out, "She was there the other evening when M'wen and I came by to visit - remember?" R'dur's frown persists, though he nods in apparent acceptance of this fact. "Ah. Yes. That's right," he agrees delicately. "You just seemed... Nevermind. I'm sorry." He glances downward again, thoughtfully this time. "I didn't see her myself, though I was down on the sands with the candidates. Most likely, the girls kept her busy. Ysalia especially s getting to be a handful," admits the man. R'hin doesn't bother to correct R'dur's assumption, nor confirm his half-spoken theory. "I didn't see her, but then we were up on the ledges. Nice view from up there, and a good way to watch." Head tips thoughtfully, "She has a many daughters then?" A beat, then, with a grin, "Any of them yours?" R'dur, nodding slowly, pulls up short at R'hin's question. Bright red, he doesn't meet the other man's eyes as he replies. "She has two of her own, and fosters a friend's as well. She has an older son as well, though I don't really know him. The--the youngest, Ysalia, is--she's mine," he admits. "She's three and a half now." Pause. "She's pregnant again," confesses R'dur after a moment--presumably, he means Yselle. "Oh, ho. Well done," R'hin grins, just as pleased with the other man's reaction as his words. "I'd thought you said you had a weyrmate, R'dur? Not that that-- ah, a flight, presumably?" he guesses. R'dur, more unsettled, frowns, neck and cheeks still blazing. "I--I /do/," he says earnestly, insistantly. "But that was--that was /before/." Pause. Since that doesn't really sound any better, he adds, "It wasn't--I mean, it was, but not like--it was just--Alidaeth lost," he finally explains simply. "And he--he always has ideas, and he and Dianneth are the worst, and it--shards," he mutters, breaking off. R'hin's pale eyes are probably an uncomfortable addition to an already uncomfortable conversation. "You don't have to explain. It's the way of Weyrs, remember?" He offers a wry smile. "Besides, you can't help how your dragon acts. Leiventh, he - he doesn't seem to show that much interest in females, at least not until they're ready to rise. I guess they don't necessarily take after their riders in that respect." R'dur hesitates, eyes cutting upward briefly. "I--I know," he admits. "Alidaeth's nothing like me. He's so--so... mischievous. Friendly. Sociable. Opposites attract, I suppose," he admits wryly. "My weyrmate's the same way." "-Your- weyrmate is mischievous, friendly, sociable? Now that sounds like someone I'd like to meet," R'hin says, although judging by the teasing note in his voice he's not entirely serious. With an exhale, he straightens slightly. "Well, I think it's about time for me to be getting back to the 'Reaches. I appreciate the hospitality, R'dur - and pass my regards onto your Weyrleaders for a fine clutch, would you?" "Well, not so much mischievous, actually," admits R'dur, "but she is very... friendly. Very feminine, too. She's an assistant headwoman here, so I'm sure she's helping with the feast and... stuff. Telling other people what to do." He's nothing if not honest, after all. Then: "Oh, right. Um. Thank you for coming. I'll be sure to tell them. I'll tell Yselle you asked about her as well," he tells the bronzerider. With a low chuckle as he rises, R'hin looks appreciative, "Thank you. I'll come and visit again soon." With a tip of head towards R'dur, and the addition of a jaunty wave, the bronzerider threads his way out through the crowd, heading for the bowl. You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl. |
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