Logs:Shoulder the Blame
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| RL Date: 20 September, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, Harilan |
| Type: Log |
| What: Faryn runs into the beastcrafter who has her old job with the herds. He has a few choice words for her. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 11, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hanson/Mentions |
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>---< Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr >-----------------------------------<
Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty
feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy
wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off
into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in
and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a
mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines --
shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually
bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the
pen.
The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is
overall pleasant today.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Faryn F 24 5'4" lean, long brown hair, brown eyes 0s
Harilan M 19 6'2" pudgy, warm brown hair, brown eyes 18s
----------------------------------< Exits >--------------------------------- The air may be cool, but cleaning up after vicious carnivores tends to be messy and sweaty work regardless. It's late in the afternoon, and Harilan has stripped down to a lose tunic, as he pits up the bits of gore left behind in the feeding pens. There is a wipe of his arm against his brow as he drags a sack over to the edge of the pen eying the frightened animals. "Suppose there's no point in consoling you lot." He mutters to himself. Faryn's not near the feeding grounds much, lately, at least not for any extended period of time. She's long since run out of reason, and certainly doesn't perch on the fence counting heads for daily tallies. Her boots definitely aren't covered in the churn of mud and dung from inside as she herds them in and out. When she's deposited by an apparently ravenous green, just outside of the gate, the exchange between her and the rider is brief. "Well, yes, but if you're not going to be working it tomorrow, there's no point. I'll wait here, though; she won't be long. The greens never are." True enough, then; the man, who's lifemate is going to eat now right now, turns and jogs away while Faryn sighs and props herself against the fence to do just as she said. Harilan finds himself slogging across the pens to get out of the way of the approaching green, and away from the feckless animals in her path. Really, it's only as he's climbing the fence, mud and blood spattered as he is that those brown eyes just happen to rest on Faryn. A wordless, disgusted grunt might be distinguished and a definite tightening of his jaw, accusation in his eyes It's possible he's not the first herder to do that to her. It's also possible that her time in her new job has trained her how to school her expression down from perpetual smug aloofness to complete and plain neutrality. It's a good skill, when someone makes that sound at you, and even better when Faryn's eyes drift to him to watch him clamber over the fence, recognition betrayed by a brief widening of the eyes. It's definitely time in job that makes her venture, despite the look he has, "They always feed at the literal worst time." "Suppose you'd be the one to know wouldn't you Faryn." The irritation doesn't melt away, but the beastcraft apprentice settles into something that isn't completely antagonistic. "Must not miss the mud, shit and rain much. How's it feel? Being some fancy weyrwoman's assistant and living it up knowing the rest of us are screwed because of you?" So much for not being antagonistic. He shakes his head, snorting softly. "Sorry, didn't really expect to run into you here, wasn't really sure what I'd say if I did." Hari grunts. Schooled. Very carefully schooled, save the twitch her her jaw and - yes - a brief moment of hurt. "Suppose I would," she allows, lifting a foot to the lowest rung of the fence and leaning more heavily on it. "I won't apologize to you or anyone else for it. It's not my fault. I was going to leave anyways." Faryn watches the green spear a beast and take it high up on the ledge to feed with clinical detachment. "It was just shitty timing. You can blame me, though, if it makes you feel better." "What do you think gave Hanson the idea in the first place, one of her apprentices starts talking about how awful the place that fed and clothed her for most of her life, 'bout how she's gonna be some fancy rider some day. I mean, I just never thought you were that selfish. Guess my judgment is shit though." He drops to the ground beside her turning his attention back to the pen, fingers interlaced, his forearms braced against the fence post. "Looks like you are doin' well though for yourself at least." The last at odds with everything else. Faryn simply can't look any more unimpressed than she does at his assessment. "It's almost like you were here, to see it all. You, who can only be pissed because I get to follow the path you want. Woe." Faryn spits on the ground between them, demonstrably. And despite her claims, she adds, "If selfish is the worst of it, I'll take it. Being selfish means I won't be miserable going forward, so long as I stay away from the likes of you." "No, thanks to you I'm eternally indebted to the hall." Equally nonplussed. "Funny, I don't remember you being such a bitch, used to think you were pretty cool. Kinda cute too." There's a shoulder shrug as his attention goes back to the pens. "Enjoy having the misery of hundreds of apprentices on your shoulders do you?" "Is it tiring, being so angry?" Above, the green spreads her wings for a second pass. Faryn's eyes follow her, not once dropping low enough to look at Harilan. "Why don't you tell me?" Watching the animals in the pen rather than the dragon above. "Shit, I half expected you to say something, anything that might explain it. Why leave the hall? It isn't like they wouldn't have let you stand as an apprentice." "There's nothing to tell. I'm not angry. Just tired." Faryn's smile twitches sharp. "I haven't said anything because I don't owe you or anyone an explanation for my happiness -- or unhappiness. Or my future." Another beast squeals, caught but not killed on impact, and Faryn winces a little bit. "We all make our choices, Harilan." "It was still your choice that sparked it all." He notes, though not entirely unkindly. "I kinda hoped you'd apologize or be less of a bitch about it, but you always were like those damned runners you loved so much." The words might be harsh, but the tone is one familiar, used to coax a frightened animal through sheering. "Your choice literally changed hall policy though." He comments, "Kinda sick, isn't it. All that talk about being a famous racer some day, and it's leaving the hall that makes you infamous." Faryn's jaw slackens very slightly, then tightens to reel it back together, slowly. "Fuck you. That was a joke, to make fun of a bunch of people who could never beat me. But I guess if you replace famous racer with dragonrider it's all pretty much the same." That is to say, a long shot. "It's not my fault, any more than it's my fault kids at Tillek can't be Searched either. It's shitty timing, not a chain reaction." She finally turns her gaze away from the feeding green to glare. "Why do you need to believe it's my fault?" "Well Joke or not, you always did have a way with them. Personally, I think they tend to be nasty animals, the draft beasts aren't so bad, but the rest seem to exist to look pretty and fluff up the already inflated ego's of those who own them." It's an old joke, and he actually delivers it with a smile. "Careful though, I might take you up on that invitation." He shrugs, "Just makes it easier to blame someone, I suppose it's a dick move to blame you based on rumors. Doesn't feel right blaming my uncle just because he only has a wingrider's stipend, or the fact that I've not made senior yet because I refuse to work with animals that are not fluffy like myself." "Can you please call your rider?" That's not for Harilan by a longshot. It's for the dragon, her voice pitched to carry. The green lifts her head, looks annoyed, and sinks her muzzle back into her kill. The message may or may not get delivered, but with no way of knowing Faryn can turn her gaze suspicious for Harilan's sudden turn for sensibility. "Then blame me, if it makes you feel better. It's a lie, but you'll fit in with your friends." She snorts, stuffing her hands in her pockets and pushing from the fence. "You can blame yourself for using the craft as a placeholder for something you really wanted," she suggests. "Or you can just make your choice and deal with the consequences as they come. I'm sure Hanson will take payments." For the rest of your life. Harilan says, "Spent most of my life in the hall, Faryn. Impression ain't a certianty either. Some of us have to face reality. Whatcha gonna do if those little monsters never look your way. If your always stuck as somebody elses' assistant for the rest of your days. You can be a bitch all you like about chasing your own dreams or whatever it is you are doing. Don't presume to mock the rest of us though, because you managed to skate any consequences for your own choices." He's done it seems. dragging the sack over a shoulder and grabbing his sweater off the rail, heading back to the dormitories." Faryn makes a low sound in the back of her throat for him. "Nah. Regret is, though." He asked for answers, didn't he? Even if she's delivering them in the most backhanded way possible, they're there, if he reads between the lines. "Skate the consequences," she echoes with a scoff, low and aside for herself, and when she turns back to watch the green again it's with furrowed brows. "I bet you get fat," might be the last thing he hears, but it's for the green, who swoops again for a third small beast, probably to spite the weyrwoman's assistant waiting for her. |
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