Logs:New Perspectives
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| RL Date: 29 May, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, Mirax |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: A last-minute candidate catches K'del's attention over the work he's trying to get done. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. It's not long before dinner on a damp and downright chilly autumn day, a couple of days before the eggs are considered likely to hatch. K'del has not been a particularly frequent visitor to the galleries, but since Cadejoth was allowed on the sands a couple of days ago, he's been here a little more often. This afternoon, he lingers in the first row of seats, his attention rather more focused upon the hides in his lap than the eggs themselves, despite his bronze's apparent best efforts: "They're still eggs, Cadejoth. Yes, I can see them. No, that one didn't just move." Out on the sands, the bronze is paying distinct attention to each in turn, examining them carefully, albeit from a distance, presumably to avoid the censure of ever-watching Iovniath. Flounce, flounce~ That is, in fact, the sound made when a Mirax leaps carefully down the steps towards the closest and best view. Her wild hair bouncing around her face, she settles just at the metal railing, fingers clasping tight around its form as if she's aiming to somersault right onto the sands. She doesn't, however. No, she's only admiring until, slyly, she glances over her shoulder and seems to notice K'del sitting there. "Aren't they lovely?" She pipes up conversationally, "Of course, I've seen eggs before, but these ones are quite lovely." "No, nudging them won't make them hatch fa-- Oh, hello." K'del interrupts his semi-regular and distinctly distracted conversation as Mirax's words draw him away; his gaze lifts from whatever he's working on so that he can blink at her, surprised. "Guess so," he agrees. "Guess eggs are eggs are eggs, so far as I'm concerned, so long as they hatch out all right - and no reason why they shouldn't." The young Weyrleader shifts in his seat, adjusting his legs so that their length settles a little more comfortably, then adds, "But sure. Lovely." "Oh, hello," Mirax echoes right back, visibly calming her posture so that she looks more natural around the spectacle of the immense cavern and collection of eggs. However, she doesn't quell the bright smile on her face anymore than she cares that she interrupted him in something. "Well, until they hatch, them shell parts the only thing we've got to be proud of, so I figure you work that up a little bit. Splendid, though, that you agree. You should. Seems to be spending time here." Here she nod-gestures towards the work in his lap. K'del considers this before he responds to it, whilst his gaze engages in even more obvious consideration of Mirax herself, speculative. "Guess so," he agrees, finally, folding his hands across the hidework in his lap. "Won't be much longer, now." There's a twitch and a curve to his lips as his gaze slides away from Mirax and back towards the sands, and, in particular, the bronze shuffling about down there. "Iovniath only just let Cadejoth onto the sands - Cadejoth's my bronze - so... he likes me to see him being fatherly. And maybe to keep him company; he's finding it more boring than he anticipated." He sounds amused, for that. Mirax stares quite unabashedly back at K'del during his observations of her person. As he talks, she begins to lean against the hands she has on the railing, but his ownership of the big bronze wonder propels her right off the railing again. "If you're the fathering folk, then we have a common interest. See, this beautiful bronze - biggest one I've ever seen-" said even as she gives Cadejoth a passing glance, "-just dropped me off for to stand here. It's Mirax, sir." Her hand juts out towards him as she tags on, "And I coulda told him it'd be passing boring. Well, not /told/ him, per se." There's dubiousness in K'del's expression at mention of beautiful, big bronzes, though it fades pretty quickly when it's obvious she's not talking about Cadejoth, who is clearly neither. But as her hand extends, so does his; his grip is firm, his hand lingering on hers as he listens. "Cadejoth tends to want things he can't have. Reckon he'd usually rather be out doing, but... So you're a candidate? Just arrived? Congratulations. Mirax." There's a pause, and then, as he takes his hand back, he adds in, "And I'm K'del." Mirax's handshake is energetic and she indulges in an extra squeeze of his hand before he releases. "Of course you're K'del," she says merrily, rolling her a eyes a little - though at herself, rather than him. Very 'silly me'. "Anyway, I knew a dragon once, I did. Very absolutely certain he wants to roll in mud - right until he does, of course! Then you have to bathe the things..." She trails off, pouting out a lower lip pensively. "I'll admit it, I will, never bathed a dragon. Very curious." The enthusiasm seems to amuse K'del more than anything; as his hand returns to the pile of papers on his lap, his lips are twitching into an outright smile. "Hang around here another couple of days, and you could have one of your very own to bathe," he puts in, lightly, head tilted to the side as, once again, he considers the newest of the candidates. "Lots of them, though, like the mud. Most of them like being bathed. /Cadejoth/ likes being a climbing structure for the kids. They're all different." The smile is only encouragement for Mirax's, so it doesn't seem like either is going away any time soon. "Nothing like the chance to experience it yourself, sir." She's a bit breathless that time, letting her amazement filter back in for a moment. As soon as K'del's talking, she's back like a predator on every word out of his mouth. "Oh, sure, this one, a bit strange..." she addendums when he mentions plenty like mud, but her lips /really/ quirk into a smirk when she asks, "The dragons, 'course, but how do ya'll riders feel about mud n'bathing time?" "No, that's true," allows K'del, his smile all the warmer for her amazement; at this rate, they're going to smile each other out of the galleries. He lifts a hand, rubbing at a spot on his shoulder, as she continues, and, then, as he laughs: "Got to scrub them a bunch, whatever they do. Mud makes it a little harder, sure, but it's still... You get used to it. And they enjoy it. Helps a bunch, honestly. Not, mind you, that I'm not glad Cadejoth's not bigger than he is: that's plenty of dragon to bathe and oil, already. Take it you're not from another weyr, then, but you've a little experience with dragons? Be a bit hard, dropped into this so late if you knew nothing." Beat. "About dragons, I mean." For a second, there's a blank look in Mirax's eyes like she's off in her head calculating numbers. Her lips move once without sound but then she bubbles out with, "Oh, yes. Don't you worry about me, I'll be fine. I just do enjoy getting the unique new perspective on the old things. All the questions, then." She gestures with both fingers towards her own mouth and then his to demonstrate the exchange of information. She pauses a moment. And then - artfully - "So you get some candidates in, nothing weyr about them?" K'del is patient, during Mirax's moment of distraction, though his brows raise slightly in curiosity; it doesn't last, and then it's back to a smile, if a lazier one than before. "Good, good," he tells her, easily. "Glad to hear it. Sure - there's plenty who come in and know next to nothing about weyrs and dragons and what-have-you. I'm holdbred myself, though I'd been here a little while before I was searched, so I was better off than some. Can be a bit hard, getting used to it all. And at least when they come in earlier, they have some time, but... those eggs? Nearly ready to hatch. That's all." Mirax wiggles her fingers and widens her eyes, her lips formed into an 'oooh' shape as she exaggerates the magic that is 'nearly ready to hatch'. Then, without much ceremony and less warning, she strolls two steps from her spot and sits down next to his, instead. With her legs quickly crossed, she's able to rest an elbow on her knee and then lean the rest of her onto that. "Holdbred," she repeats, almost... reassured. "Do tell. You had some truly inspiring trade ahead of you before this, mhm." K'del doesn't seem terribly surprised - nor indeed, much of anything - as Mirax settles herself next to him, though he shifts so that he can continue to look in her direction without too much effort. "Couple of days, probably," he adds in, before, "Mm, sure. Eighth of nine children, little vineyard in the Tillek area. Never going to inherit, though, so I decided to strike out on my own, as it were, and ended up here. Got Searched, and then... Well, as you seen. Where're you from, then?" Mirax visibly reacts to the idea of being eighth in that kind of line-up, but her expression isn't quite readable. Her hand is soon brought up to cover her mouth anyway. When it's her turn to talk, she merely spreads her fingers to unmuffle her voice. "Not a bad spot to strike out to," she first comments, then, "Benden, that's the place. Straight-up Hold. Well off, well liked, but, well, when the dragons call..." She makes a sort of shrug. "Only child, if you're wondering. That's an awful lot of attention, there." And /that/ does seem to strike at K'del's curiosity, much more visibly than anything else thus far. His expression asks, even though he doesn't: what about being eighth of nine makes her react like that? What he says, however, recomposing his features again, "Mm. Came with the tithe, worked out pretty well. Few turns ago." But not many: he's still, what, in his mid-to-late teens? Young, anyway, particularly given his knot. "Benden. Right. Been to gathers there, but that's about it. And no siblings whatsoever? Shells." His head shakes: he seems to find that... sad? Well, if he's sad then Mirax seems surprised, as if this wasn't the reaction she was expecting. She grasps for words a second time before stammering a bit, "I... well, there was this guy. I guess he was sort my brother. Not really, though. Not my mom's." Her shoulder's heave again, but she's not shrugging this time. She's also not looking at K'del anymore; aw, they killed the smiling. "But Benden's /marvelous/, miss it a little right now, even." It's not sad-sad, but it's sad enough, like he thinks this is something of a tragedy. "A... half brother, or something, then? Suppose that's better than nothing. Guess I'd just find that really lonely. My sister and I, we're still really close." K'del stretches out his long, long legs, turning his own attention away as she does: "Course you miss it. Even if you haven't been away long. The Reaches are pretty nice, though. And if you Impress... Well, give it a bit, and then you'll be able to go back to visit any time you like. And if you don't, well, even easier." "Half-brother," Mirax mutters grimly. Yet, even saying it seems to expel some of its damage from her enthusiasm and she sits up a bit straighter. From this vantage, she watches K'del moving his long, long legs. "I'd actually like to travel. Imagined it more like seducing some poor hapless rider into falling in love with me so he wouldn'ta mind the frequent luxurious trips." The deadpan face holds for, like, three brilliant seconds before the facade cracks and Mirax snorts loudly. K'del's conclusion of, "Not a happy relationship, then," is definitely more a statement than a question, coming as it is after a moment of semi-awkward pause that breaks off at Mirax's snort; he grins. "Travel is fun. Reckon you wouldn't have to do too much to convince someone to help you with that - unless, of course, one of those out there is for you." His head inclines towards the eggs, on the sands. "Either way, guess you could well get your wish." Mirax sits all the way up in her sit now so she can aim a friendly elbow-nudge at K'del over his awkwardness, "Ah, come off it, of course it's a wild joke." She's either ignorant of protocol or can't much take the young weyrleader seriously enough. "Now, if you keep saying that," she mentions after him, her gaze following his nod to the eggs, "you're going to get my hopes up." She giggles some; it's a much cuter sound than her previous snort. "So what's /your/ wish, weyrleader? Or do you have it all?" Oh, hey, no, she remembers who he is. The familiarity in that friendly nudge, not to mention the rest of what Mirax has to say, makes K'del laugh merrily. At least he doesn't seem to be too fussed on being taken seriously, for the moment. "Sorry, sorry," he tells her, of the eggs. "Not my intention. My wish?" His head is shaking fast enough that it's pretty obvious he doesn't think he's got it all. "Know that point, when all your immediate goals have been covered, and yet... not? Dunno. Figure I'll work out what else I want in time, once I've got the whole Weyrleader thing down." A moment of seriousness follows that comment; he looks thoughtful, biting lightly at his lip. Huzzah, all the smiling and laughing is back. Mirax, though, has the poise to look incredibly thoughtful and interested when he speaks. She presses both of her hands into her lap very importantly. "I do. And it's not the worst place to be, it's not. Must be one'a those things you can't see yourself because, sir, I been here well on some hours and I'm already sure you'll be doing sp-len-did-ly." A hand raises to mark off each exaggerated syllable with a tap of a finger. It's the kind of motion that makes you think she's going to bop you on the nose at the end. But she doesn't. This time. Poor K'del: there's got to be something truly awkward about being younger than most of the candidates, when you're in his position. That's probably why he dodges, as if assuming that tapping finger is actually going to bop him. He looks pretty embarrassed about it, though. "Sweet of you," he laughs, smiling ruefully. "We'll see. Guess it depends on whether we manage to stop people from stealing our tithes and whatever." Pause. "Anyway. Guess you don't need to worry about that." It can't really help him, no. Though Mirax is such that she'd put on a similar display for even the crankiest of old uncles. Her eyebrow raises at his dodge but she keeps her mouth shut - about that. "Excuse me, but seems stealing's bad enough to be anyone's concern. I knew a thief once. Worst kind of person, no shame whatsoever. And isn't that the worst, when them's thinking what they're doing is actually good. Not like you can talk a lick of sense into those." "Need to catch them, first, before we can try and convince them they're wrong and shouldn't do it," says K'del, looking rueful, though he nods easily enough for the rest of what she has to say. "Which is proving harder than you'd think, but--" He breaks off, and grimaces. "Probably shouldn't be spreading that around. Seems like I'm always talking, when I shouldn't. It's--" He breaks off again, and then just laughs. "It's dinner time. Should head on in to the caverns. Care to join me, or want to stick around here a bit longer, get to know the eggs a bit better?" Mirax hums thoughtfully at his description of the problem, which raises into a questioning noise when he cuts off the first time. "Now, you know I know it sometimes helps a problem, what to talk it outloud to somebody." She drops the subject, though, because the choice he gives her at least appears to be one of the most difficult she's ever had to face. She starts to move, starts to speak, changes her mind, and shifts, unsure. "I think I could he-- ahhh.. No. Okay. Here. I'll be staying here. But not too long, maybe I'll be catching you in there later?" Beam beam smile. "Yes," agrees K'del, not without a smile. "But I reckon I'm not supposed to load all of my problems on the candidates. Makes me look ineffective or something, and as well all know, I need as much help as I can get to /avoid/ that." Her choice draws a warmer smile, maybe even somewhat knowing; as he gathers up his papers, and takes one last glance out at the sands, and Cadejoth, who continues to prowl about them, he nods: "Can't blame you for that. See you around, Mirax - and welcome to the 'Reaches." "Maybe I'm not a candidate," Mirax replies slyly, "Maybe you was talking to someone else entirely." She raises a finger to her mouth to suggest she'll keep it to herself, should he be concerned. The finger drops when she readjusts to be looking fully towards the eggs again, "Kind thanks, Weyrleader K'del. You'll be telling the proud father I admire the lumps out there? Marvelous. Best of luck to you." But maybe he shouldn't quote 'lumps' specifically. K'del takes a moment to consider this, and then - he laughs. "Right," he agrees. "Just chatting to someone, getting things off my chest. Exactly right." He looks pleased, nodding several times: he trusts her. That's nice of him, considering how long they've known each other, now. "K'del," he corrects, then; "Don't need to call me Weyrleader unless we're working, or whatever. Something like that. Cadejoth says thank you; he's pretty proud of them, too. And good luck." Smiling warmly, he turns to go, making his way through the galleries and out into the chilly damp of the bowl. |
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