Logs:Sore Egos
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| RL Date: 23 July, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: In case anyone was wondering, K'del and Farideh still don't get along. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 5, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Sisha/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, F'manis/Mentions |
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| 'Spring' remains to be cool and wet rather than warm and sunny, but at least the heavy snow of winter is now but a memory; it's enough that a good many weyr residents are choosing to be out-of-doors when they can be. For K'del, that's not always an option, and this afternoon, he's spread out at a table in the otherwise-relatively-quiet records room, flicking his pen between his fingers as he thumbs industriously through an old and dusty tome, obviously hunting for something. The quiet tranquility of the records room is abruptly broken by a loud giggle from behind one of the bookcases and is quickly followed by Farideh's head peeking from around said bookcase. She looks guiltily towards the records attendant first, affirming censorious stares, and in glancing about, notices her favorite bronzerider hogging one of the tables. It's the latter of the two that has her blanching visibly, sucking in a breath and staying very still; maybe he won't notice her slight frame between the two tall shelves, or have heard her raucous outburst. But K'del has heard it. It's not that he's not good at blocking out irrelevant noise (he is), or that he's especially seeking to bust Farideh (he's not... mostly), but, well. Timing. He's just glancing up to stretch his fingers, and there's the goldrider, the giggle, and now, his raised eyebrows. "Farideh," he says, voice pitched low despite the relative emptiness of the records room. It's not quite invitation, warning, or long-suffering sigh, though any of these could easily be read into it; certainly, his eyebrows have raised. Farideh just starts to step back into the shelving, to hopefully fade into invisibility behind the stacks of old hides and books, but the weyrleader's use of her name stops her progress. She makes an immediate face -- not quite annoyed, not quite polite -- before a glance at the scribe on duty has her schooling her features a shade nicer. "K'del," she greets, in turn, stepping out and away from the bookcases, meandering towards his table. "What brings you-- here?" She gestures vaguely around, as though the records room isn't a place he might occupy. "Might ask the same thing about you," is K'del's mild reply, those blue eyes that have tracked Farideh's progress so closely still lingering in their glance. "But since you have asked me," and plainly, that calls for a teachable moment, "I'm researching wing structure and numbers from the last Interval. Our numbers have dropped enough that it's probably about time we culled a few more. Thirteen fighting wings is too many." "Oh, you know--" Farideh waves her hand around, but pointedly doesn't answer, instead leaning against the back of a chair opposite K'del, her hands folded neatly on top. "Do you think that a wise choice? And how do you decide who to cut? You're not afraid of the fuss it will cause?" She shows mild interest in her expression, but her eyes are scanning what he has to show on the tabletop, greedily. The big old book K'del's been leafing through does seem to be labelled as 'wing records.' The rest of his papers? Blank. For now. His expression shifts to a mild smile, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards. "Do you imagine me to be intending to sweep in and fire... I don't know, H'vier and Taikrin?" he wonders, pointedly naming the two wingleaders he's most famously been at odds with. "Or B'ren? Get rid of people I don't like in the name of 'progress'? No, it's mostly an attrition thing. Planning for the long-term, see. Wanted to see how Weyrleaders managed it last Interval." "I don't care if you fire H'vier or Taikrin, or anyone else for that matter," Farideh says, easily enough. "That's outside of my realm. I'm more concerned about the fallout you're going to cause. How do you intend to placate the sore egos?" She lifts her gaze from the book and the papers, but the smile she gives him is thin, if not unpleasant. "For the long term," she repeats and then nods. "And? Did they? Condense their wings? Do you think it's something other Weyrs are looking to do?" "They did," is prompt. "As wingleaders retired, some of their wings were merged. There are always going to be sore egos; if I name this person wingleader rather than that person, that person will be sore. Our numbers are going to get smaller and smaller-- more dragonriders are dying each turn than Impressing." Farideh's reaction to his plan plainly doesn't bother K'del, who even goes so far as to smile, its intensity not far less than brilliant. "I would anticipate a lot of Weyrs are, yes. If they haven't already." "That's different than what you're proposing, right? You can hope any of them retire-- F'mais? Mielline? And if they choose not to, will you merge them, regardless? If, they are retired, there's no one to really cause a fuss, but to demote a current wingleader to a second, or less--" Farideh's shoulders lift in a dainty shrug, though she does give his smile a suspicious squint. "You're guessing." "No, that's exactly what I'm proposing." K'del gives Farideh a somewhat more bewildered glance, this time, as if he can't quite believe she'd think that. "That's what I mean: I'm not intending to fire anyone. But Sisha, for example, is in her sixties; she'll probably retire in the next few turns, and at that point, Avalanche will probably be merged with another wing with a similar style, probably Taiga. That's the point: not going to be shutting down wings tomorrow, just getting ready to do so as things change. Getting people used to the idea, too." And as for the rest? "It's not something I've spoken about with any of them, at length." It's Farideh's turn to look angry-bewildered next, but she doesn't interrupt and waits until K'del has finished speaking to say, "What does Irianke think about your plan?" She folds her arms tightly across her chest, while looking down at the bronzerider for once. "I'm sure it has its merits," she avers, continuing to look surly despite her agreement. "The wings," K'del reminds Farideh, calmly, "come under my jurisdiction." He presses his thumb squarely into the page of the book in front of him, then adds, "Which isn't to say that I will implement anything without mentioning it," which has a certain pointedness to it. "Do you think we should spend marks we don't have on wingleaders we don't need?" he wonders, abruptly. "Or is it just because I'm the one thinking about this?" "Of course they are, but something that big, don't you think should be a--" Farideh presses her lips together for a moment, before continuing. "Team effort, or would you expect your Weyrwoman to change tithe rates without any consensus? Or is that how you prefer it? Separate and not equal?" She shifts minutely on her feet, keeping her gaze level on K'del. "No, but I also worry about morale. Not counting the wingleaders, and prospective replacements, it could be seen as-- failure, weakness? I hope you don't go around telling the average resident what marks we do and don't have." "Separate and not equal? Where the shell did you get that idea from?" K'del's voice is beginning to lift, this time; he earns a glower from the records keeper on duty, but doesn't seem to notice. More calmly, then, "Of course I don't go talking about what marks we have. This won't be the first time we've shut closed or merged wings. It's never easy. People care about their wings. That's why I want to start preparing people for the future; to ease them into the idea more slowly." Beat. "You always believe the worst of me, don't you? Everything I say, you rush to the conclusion that I'm stupid and haven't thought about anything. That I'm rushing into it without thinking... why, because that's what you do?" "Why are you--" Farideh's eyes flick to the scribe, before settling back on K'del, her arms tightening even more. "I was asking questions and trying to understand. You don't have to be rude to me, especially not in public, where other people can hear. It's one thing to dislike each other, it's another if every drudge and auntie in the Weyr knows about it," she responds, coolly. "What would you rather me do? Eat up everything you have to say like it's sugar? Smile and agree?" K'del manages, just barely, not to roll his eyes. "No," he says, promptly. "Of course not." He starts to stand, now, gathering up his things. "If you truly want to ask questions and understand," he continues, in a conversational tone. "I'd suggest asking in a way that doesn't presuppose an answer or opinion on the part of the person being asked." Beat. "Whatever you think of me, Irianke and I work well together. Of course I'll talk to her about my plans. Of course we'll discuss it. I'm not stupid. Been Weyrleader for not much less time than you've been alive. Got a shell of a lot more experience in this than anyone else you've thought to replace me with. So at least, if you do replace me, there'll be some ideas in place, whether or not anyone wants to follow them. Excuse me." "Maybe you shouldn't take offense so easily," Farideh retorts, her chin jerking up stubbornly before she can stop herself. "You're so--" She can't even finish the sentence, and instead, noting his gathering-up of things and imminent leaving taking with stiff posture, she makes an unpleasant sound and stomps off; notably out, as her appetite for whatever she was doing in the records is evidently gone after that discussion. |
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Comments
Edyis (22:36, 23 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Poor K'del. :(
Alida (00:17, 24 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Oh, the squabbling! ^^
Faryn (09:49, 24 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Oh, Farideh. Leave that poor man alone.
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