Logs:Larger The Feather, Greater The Power
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| RL Date: 15 July, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, K'zin |
| Involves: Keroon Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: At a Keroon gather, Farideh and K'zin go shopping, and chat about hats and politics (even though they're one in the same thing apparently). |
| Where: Keroon Hold |
| When: Day 9, Month 4, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions |
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| Spring is a time of renewal in Keroon with the grassy greens becoming more vibrant with each passing day of sun and spring showers. The gather today has a smattering of each, clouds passing and bringing sprinkles or simply shade to an otherwise pleasantly warm afternoon. The gather grounds are welcoming, the booths busy and the crowds lively as is only appropriate of a good gather. Rasavyth is settled comfortably in the company of some Telgari dragons while K'zin navigates the crowds, stopping at a vendor's stall to peruse the decidedly feminine oriented offerings. High Reaches' littlest queen is at the gather, but not easily seen, lost in a sea of colorful hides that includes a few golds; closer inspection puts her out in a sunning spot with one of Igen's queens. Likewise, Farideh isn't mingling with other gather goers, and doesn't appear to be with anyone. She's occupied by one of the weaver booths currently displaying various ribbons and trims, holding up a length of sky-blue satin ribbon for her own inspection, while the vendor stays by, patient and proud, and awaiting the petite weyrwoman's pleasure. It is, in fact, that very weaver's booth that has garnered K'zin's attention. Despite his familiarity with the newest 'Reaches goldrider, it takes the bronzerider a moment to recognize her out of the context of home. "That's a pretty color," he offers of the sky-blue satin ribbon, stepping closer to get a better look. "Afternoon, Farideh," he offers by way of more proper greeting. "For a hat or your hair?" He nods toward the ribbon in question. The familiar voice distracts Farideh from the pastel ribbon, and her head turns to find K'zin, who is in fact close at hand. "Afternoon, K'zin," she greets, her mouth curving in a small smile. "I don't think-- not even with spring here-- I have much cause to wear hats in High Reaches. I swear one day out here tans my skin faster than the whole summer there." She gives a little, discouraged sigh, and refocuses her gaze back on the section of long and short ribbons, in multiple colors, on display. "What brings you here?" "No?" K'zin's brows lift in polite curiosity. "My sister once told me that fashion is seldom practical in its application. Hats--" He waves a hand vaguely toward the booth to indicate the various fashionable sundries and make some silent comment about hats being a part of that. "The dancing, later," he offers, "the runner races sooner. And a gift for Telavi." That should clarify his presence in this particular booth. "Any recommendations?" He queries, deferring to the goldrider's taste. "Hats," Farideh reiterates, amusement ringing in her voice, "have a time and a place. I have yet to find an occasion at High Reaches to wear one, however impractical. I could show up for my next meeting with the wingleaders, wearing something with flowers and ribbons, but--" She barely controls the laughter brimming behind her words, only doing so by biting down on her inner lip. "Runners," with a nose wrinkle, and a more fastidious glance for that gift. "Is it her turnday? Or a just because gift?" Turning back to the ribbons, she points to each: a buttery yellow ribbon, a jewel-toned blue, and a copper-y ribbon with metallic threads. "With her skin tone and coloring-- she would look lovely in any of those, or were you hoping to get her a hat?" "You don't suppose that would garner you more respect? I hear the larger the feather, the greater the power." K'zin grins at the brunette, amusement lighting his face in turn. The shoulder shrug is a sympathetic thing when she comments on runners. "The racing isn't really my thing, if we're being honest." And why shouldn't they be? "It's a just because gift," he goes on to answer. "Her turnday's not 'til month thirteen. Same day as Quinlys'." He looks at those ribbons she recommends. "She doesn't really do hats either. Those caps that she wears over her braids, yes, but not really hats. Unless you'd call them hats?" He inquires uncertainly. "I'm sure she'd appreciate the ribbons for the braids, though, for when all of you have graduated." When they can all afford to be a bit less professional. "I will make sure I have the smallest feather I can find, as I have no intentions of having any--" Farideh stops, draws in a breath, and lets it out, with a smile. "Power." She shifts, leaning onto her one foot, hip cocked to the side, though it's hard to see beneath the layers of dove gray she wears. "Ribbons, then, for her braids, or maybe for a clever updo if she ever--" She motions vaguely with the hand still holding onto the blue ribbon. "I'm sure she will appreciate it." "The smallest feather it is then," K'zin answers agreeably. "You're getting along with Weyrwoman Irianke then?" It's not a political question in the delivery, even if it can't help but be by nature. As he asks, he steps to where he can examine a canister holding feathers, searching for the smallest. His eyes go briefly to the ribbons again, but they can wait, some worry briefly passing across his face. Whatever it is goes unsaid as he looks back to the feathers with renewed purpose and interest. "We get along," is what Farideh says, reaching to grab an olive ribbon and after that, a blush-colored one. "We have never not gotten along. We have different ideals-- and styles-- but we don't disagree." She takes a moment to hand her desired purchases to the vendor, who makes a little more small talk, and after accepting the appropriate marks, hands her items back in a thin bundle of fabric. And then, she turns to contemplate K'zin contemplating the feathers, her face openly showing her amusement. "So you're looking forward to being her junior?" K'zin's question doesn't hold any judgment for that. He might as well be making the same sort of small talk the vendor just did. "Perhaps you can put in a good word for me. I'd rather not have the Senior Weyrwoman thinking-- well, nevermind." He plucks out a feather and proffers it for Farideh's inspection. "Small enough?" It's about half the length of one of his fingers and a pretty combination of fawn and white. Both of Farideh's eyebrows lift in wry response to his questioning, but there's no change in her expression otherwise, not even the ghost of a smile still lingering on her mouth. "Her junior? A Senior Weyrwoman? Have you decided who will rise first, then? I didn't know it was that easy," she says, her tone not admonishing, but somehow, the words, imply otherwise; still, her smile widens a smidge. "Small enough-- it will do, for a junior." "I thought you were the one who was saying you didn't want any power?" K'zin shows why he's earned a reputation for not having much in the way of brains as he gives the weyrling a genuinely puzzled look. "I was just--" His free hand rises to push through his short cropped hair, sending locks into disarray, "-trusting you." He finishes awkwardly. "I should, shouldn't I?" Trust her, that is. "You'd know better than I would," wouldn't she?" He's uncertain now, again. The feather is drawn back just slightly as if it's small surface area might some how shield him from whatever misstep he's made now. "No, I don't, but from what I understand, it isn't up to me, unfortunately. Or Irianke. Or you. Or anyone else. We rely on-- the hormones of dragons, to decide who will next be senior, and, of course, Weyrleader, though history says it will be our own dear K'del." Farideh says it all conversationally, but there's not the same light amusement in her voice anymore. "A small feather is just the thing, whether or not it happens. I can pretend as long as I can and Irianke can stretch her wings as acting Weyrwoman until the inevitable. She can wear the big feather." "It can be a wish, then," K'zin decides as he moves to collect two of the suggested ribbons and exchange marks for them and the feather. Once he has, he turns to the weyrling and offers the small thing to her. "A wish that you'll get what you want, whatever that is." For all that who leads them is something that affects them all, K'zin doesn't seem overly concerned that it should be one or the other of them. "A wish, in the form of a feather," Farideh says, warmth returning to her voice as she accepts the feather. She holds it between her forefinger and thumb, turning it in a slow circle to admire the smallness of it. "Whatever I want. That is novel." Carefully, she tucks it into the fabric bundle, with the ribbons, and glances out towards the other booths in the gather square. "Care you escort me to those runner races? We can see who has the best guesses. Winner buys drinks?" "So long as you promise me a dance later...?" K'zin bargains even as he offers his free arm, the other busied with tucking away his own purchases into his pocket. "If you're staying for the dancing, that is." This is not to imply she has to stay in his company for the duration, of course, just that she should make good when the time comes. "I can try," is simply to reinforce the fact that her time isn't her own; not yet, perhaps not ever. Farideh pats him comfortingly on the arm after slipping her hand in the crook of his elbow. "If not today, then another time, you can have a dance. Roszadyth will not be quick to forget that, and it might work in your favor to hold an important dance over a weyrwoman's head." Easily, she slips back into that earlier amusement, as she allows him to lead the way through the gather, to the runner races. "Oh, yes," K'zin answers the weyrling too gravely. "I'm all about getting leverage to hold over weyrwomen and all that." He waves a vague hand to indicate it all before there's a rueful smile. "Perhaps as a younger man that might've been more true, but not for turns upon turns now." He shrugs his shoulders, smile seeming the happier for it. Happier, too, to leave the topic behind even as they do the booth and all its delights in favor of the dust and hoopla of the race track. |
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