Logs:A Shuffle Of Duties
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 28 June, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Hattie |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia has something for Hattie, and the two Weyrwomen discuss things. Hraedhyth pup-watches. |
| Where: The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Elise/Mentions, Hana/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
 |
| The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr Despite its subterranean locale, the creamy wall paint, pale woods, and frosted glass give the cavern a light, airy feel. Oil lamps reflect softly in the polished wood of high-backed booths, glimmering through the opaque glass dividers that help lend intimacy to the seating arrangements; round-backed seats with deep, terra-cotta colored padding and the addition of strategic, lyric shapes painted in a subtle red shade at regular intervals around the walls add a little depth to the color palette. The sweeping, half-circle shaped bar with its top of smooth stone, backed by cut-glass-fronted cabinetry flows gracefully into the soft lines and mellow colors that dominate the Glass Fountain. All the atmosphere aside, the main attractions of the room are clearly the massive, multi-pronged chandelier that hangs from multiple chains from the ceiling and the re-worked leak - which no longer resembles a leak at all, having been channeled through glass to become a beautiful piece of art. A curving wave and a series of glass bubbles guide the water past a bank of glows, allowing the light to shine through the water and turn it into a sparkling fountain. From its dark, dim, shabby history, the Glass Fountain has become - frankly - a swanky place with lattice-stands to hold the menus with their selection ranging from typical 'bar food' to high-end dishes and fancy desserts. It's with her usual exuberance that Hraedhyth appears from between above Fort, the warrior queen hovering as she pays her respects. Most of that intensity is let loose in a bellow, a greeting that is less likely to mentally overwhelm young dragons or Elaruth. Still, those pounding drums can't be completely silenced as she reaches out, « We wish to see how the pups are doing. » Just in case their timing isn't the best when it comes to visiting Weyrwoman Hattie. Still, « Mine would also like to see Yours, if she is able. » Just short of sounding like a question, it's at least a proper request. It's almost impossible to miss the pale figure of Elaruth up at the star stones, the weak winter sunshine cast over her hide making her seem white-gold in the afternoon light. She follows Hraedhyth's progress without remark for a few moments, manners suggesting that she wait for contact rather than reach out and question, something that might well be different were those pups to be /eggs/. « They are best seen from the southern end of the bowl, » she calmly invites, casting a look down that way herself. « They still sleep for a good portion of the day. » Is that disappointment from their grand-dam? « She has just finished a meeting in the place with the fountain. » And that indeed looks to be the case, for in her customary booth towards the back of the bar, Hattie is left with a small sea of scraps of hide, empty glasses and a pack of dragon-poker cards laid out oddly across the table. After her rider is safely on the ground, Hraedhyth heads towards the southern end of the bowl with a casual lumber. It might be amusing to watch the large gold stop, allowing weyrfolk and other dragons the right of way before she settles a comfortable distance from where the weyrlings might appear. If they ever wake up, that is. The likely source of such courtesy heads for the Glass Fountain, gets turned around halfway there, but eventually reaches her destination. Azaylia is still marveling at the interior as she approaches Hattie's booth, gaze drawn up and locked on the cavern's namesake. "Weyrwoman Hattie." Breathless, she manages to tear her attention away, offering a warm smile, "This place is... so pretty. Uhm. High Reaches duties to Fort." There's a thin slip of something cradled in her arm, crinkling as she fidgets. Hattie must have been informed of Azaylia's arrival, for by the time she sets eyes on her, she's halfway through gathering up hide scraps and poker cards, scribbling something on the back of each card as she goes. "Azaylia," she greets levelly, hand paused over one of the cards. "I should hope so," is far more wry. "That chandelier was a downright nightmare to put together when I was a Candidate." The swipe of a finger and hook of its nail draws the card up, which is then flipped over to have its own scrawl tattooed on its back. "Fort's duties to High Reaches' queens..." If there's a question in her words, it's confined to the tailing off of her voice and brief study of her fellow goldrider. A hand reaches up to tuck an invisible strand behind her ear, Azaylia's hair rather neatly braided and pinned with little chance of flyaways. Nervous? Yes. "It's been up for that long? Oh. Not that you're old, or... " Age. The perfect topic to broach when speaking with an expectant mother. She can't help but twist her lips in amusement at anxieties thought long gone, instead offering her parcel with both arms outstretched. The paper, for that's what it's wrapped in, is gauzy and thin as well as powder blue. "Thank you." Gratitude that spans over several gestures, the younger weyrwoman takes her time in sliding into the seat across from Hattie. "I'm Acting Weyrwoman, now." As if the news hasn't spread, but in the same breath, "What are you doing with those cards?" "Though admittedly it often feels that I've been here forever, I assure you that I'm not /quite/ that ancient yet," Hattie answers, dry-voiced and with a lurking, curling smirk possessing one corner of her mouth. She reaches out with careful hands to accept the offered parcel with another curious look and a Azaylia's words mirrored back at her in a murmur: "Thank you." What cards that remain on the table are left where they are, the parcel set gently down so as to disturb none and so that none might tear at the paper, a darting gaze directed down to make sure it doesn't yet rip, as if she's loath to disturb gauzy blue. Of the cards, she says, "Staffing. Suits for departments; rankers for those in charge and so on. A shuffle." Literally, in at least two senses of the word. Perhaps that's answered first to buy her time, for then she asks, "Do I ask what happened to Aishani?" A question twice over. Azaylia's wince is a playful one, but a smile manages to squeeze past as she catches sight of Hattie's smirk. The package crinkles to the touch and may feel as though it's only contains paper folded in on itself. Not likely. "It's probably too late to be a Turnover gift, but..." She doesn't quite shrug, shifting in her seat with a subtle roll of her shoulders, gaze dropping back to those cards. "A shuffle? To... assign new duties?" She can only guess, words drawled out and uncertain. The 'Reachian goldrider may not have caught on before, but now Hattie's question is all too pointed. That almost childlike announcement carried with it similar excitement that now wilts, unsure, "She... Aishani quit." To sound more Weyrwomanly about it, "Resigned. Her knot was left hanging where the-- was left hanging in the living caverns. Then everyone started coming to me and... She's still at the Weyr. I didn't, wouldn't, do anything to her." If that's what's being implied. The crinkling of the package makes Hattie all the more cautious, fingertips smoothing along one edge of the paper before she surrenders to curiosity and begins to slowly tear into it bit by bit in a carefully methodical way. "I'll pretend if you will," she promises with a tiny smile, already nodding her head about the cards and shuffling on the heels of her words. "New duties," the Fortian Weyrwoman confirms. "Some interpersonal issues and going stale in a job doesn't make for productivity, in a lot of cases." When her dark gaze lifts from the package, she watches Azaylia for a moment or two before seeming to accept the explained state of affairs with, "I see." And /then/ she shakes her head just the slightest bit. "I didn't mean to suggest that you had caused her any harm. What I suppose I meant was whether this new arrangement is one that came about naturally, in as much as you have little choice but to accept it." Within the delicate wrapping are five thin, gold hair pins. New, brightly polished, each gilded length leads up to a different glass charm. Some are set with intricate woven borders such as Fort's badge. A white dragon is perched upon a round base with colorful stones set in a patter. The three remainging are meant to dangle from fine chains pattered with glass spheres; a sun, a flower, and a whimsical firelizard twisted in flight. Azaylia's eys are drawn back down to the open package, as if doubting her choices already. "That makes sense." Distracted, she clears her throat, voice still much softer than when she first arrived, "It works? I... I'd be worried about people complaining." As they are wont to do. Still not quite looking back up at Hattie, she peeks from beneath her lashes, "I wouldn't." Despite how guilty she must look, now. The reason becomes clear, "I'm not... upset that she resigned. I wanted this. I wanted to try. I just had to... I wasn't going to take it from her." Either out of respect or fear. What matters is she didn't. Hattie is just as careful in her exploration of the pins, each held up to the light to reveal what details may not be obvious as they lie in their paper on the table, a quiet smile playing about the edges of the goldrider's lips. "They're beautiful," she murmurs, taking the time to study one after the other with evident fascination. "Thank you." She examines them even as she speaks, setting one pin down delicately in a neat row with its fellows as she takes up the next. "It works," she states, though it can only be in her opinion. "Whether people complain is of little consequence. They'll always complain about /something/. They shouldn't be led to know that doing so gives them the power to do as they please." And she /is/ able to look over at Azaylia as she speaks her next words. "You don't have to be upset, nor do you have to be ashamed of wanting the knot," she seeks to assure, her voice soft, as though she could keep anyone from overhearing. "Better to want it than be landed with something you don't want. I'm sure she had her reasons for resigning, as you must have yours for wanting what you now have." "I have, or had, a project with the Smiths in my Weyr. They can make glass out of hatching sand..." The result of which Hattie holds, though there's a distinct lack of credit taken for the designs themselves. Azaylia recovers from her shy slump some, head lifting with a hopeful curl of her lips, "You're welcome." Sitting across from Hattie, her posture is both shy and eager. She gives the older Weyrwoman her full attention even if it's a matter of opinion, but even that can be taken as a lesson. "It's hard, knowing people are unhappy." Resigned, she's learned to accept it. Now, finally able to look Hattie in the eye, "I was afraid you were disappointed in me." Moving past that obvious admiration, "I know goldriders have to stick together but..." It's become increasingly difficult, if not impossible given past reveals. With a little shake of her head, "I'm sorry. I didn't visit just to complain. How are you? And Weyrleader N'muir?" "You plan to make mementos for your weyrlings?" is the conclusion that Hattie reaches as she gently sets down the last of the pins, an obsessive amount of care given to making sure that they are all lined up just so, the edge of one fingertip grazing the wings of the little dragon. "I think I might have been disappointed in you if Aishani had resigned and you had done nothing," she quietly confesses. "One of you needs to look after your people in whatever way you can. I won't condemn her for her actions when I know nothing of her reasons, but I can't say that you shouldn't have done as you have either." She presses her lips together as if determined to hold back one thought or another, yet blurts it out anyway: "I won't take sides. I think of you as /people/ first and your rank second; I know what it's like to be seen as only the latter. And to not want it at all. ...At times." As for herself, she says, with a rueful smirk, "I took on an assistant, which will hopefully mean N'muir doesn't have to resort to stealing my hidework away like last time." Last time she was pregnant, presumably. "You caught me." Azaylia admits, "Though they're a bit bigger than hair pins. It was Hraedhyth's first clutch after all." An explanation, but it's likely she'll be just as sentimental when it comes to future hatchings. Leaning forward, she rests her chin on the bridge of her hands, gaze scanning over the pins, cards, and hidework that's spread out between them. "I'd have been disappointed in me, too." Hattie's blurt has brown eyes lifting suddenly, widening with surprise, "I'd never ask you to." Sudden and sincere, "I'm glad you see us as people. And I don't blame Aishani for her decision, either. Just because I can't be there for her..." Doesn't mean Hattie shouldn't. "I never thought I would, but it's nice. Having an assistant." The idea of N'muir stealing the Weyrwoman's work inspires a soft laugh, "He worries?" Not really a question as she continues, "Doesn't he know you're Hattie? You can do anything." It might be too much if it was an attempt flattery rather than a tease, and yet most jokes are born from some truth. Or in this case, an opinion. "Good," Hattie murmurs, seemingly somewhat reassured by the response she receives, for she nods a couple of times more to herself than to Azaylia, cementing that knowledge in her mind. "I know you'll do your best. It's all anyone can ever ask." Quiet laughter of her own follows after the Reachian Weyrwoman's as she draws herself up and declares, "Of course I can do anything," self-deprecatingly enough as to highlight that belief as one of her flaws. "I just have to pretend that I sometimes can't. Make him feel better, you know?" For all her teasing, there's more than evident affection as she speaks of her Weyrleader, which, for whatever reason, suddenly makes her shy and draws her attention down to the table. Gently, she draws the pins aside and to sit beside her where they won't run the risk of damage, then begins to gather up the remaining cards. "Do you know that matching game that the children play? Seems to me that it just involves a lot of shrieking and slamming cards down, but maybe there's something in it..." A roundabout way of asking whether Azaylia would like to play, perhaps to draw thoughts to more light-hearted affairs. Hopefully, they know at least one card game between them. With Hattie's reassurance, Azaylia's smile slowly begins to regain the strength it had when she first arrived. It's easy to maintain when there are jokes, the younger goldrider laughing from behind her hand, "If only he knew what you do for him." There's a warmth to her gaze as she watches the Fortian Weyrwoman's eyes fall, knowing enough to simply let the moment pass. "I don't, actually." Azaylia leans forward, arms dropping to cross atop the table, "Will you teach me?" If children manage, surely she can? Hopefully the instructions, and the explaining of such, leaves room for more casual conversation. Hraedhyth will behave, content to watch the new weyrlings until it's time for them to go back home. |
Leave A Comment