Logs:Future-Proof
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| RL Date: 5 October, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A conversation about candidates, crafts, and clutches. |
| Where: K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 13, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edyis/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Pia/Mentions, R'vel/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions |
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| It's late, on a miserable, rainy night in the early High Reaches winter, but at least the fire in K'del's hearth is roaring comfortably, and there's a bottle set out on the table in front of it. The bronzerider himself is wearing sheepskin slippers, comfortably ensconsed in his chair with a glass in one hand, and a stack of papers spread out on his lap. They've already covered the most basic of updates, and now, flicking a page, he asks, "How are we going on candidate numbers?" "Holding. Even without Tillek's numbers, Nabol, High Reaches Hold, and delightfully, Crom Hold, have been more than obliging." Irianke glances down at her own hides, a little askew in her lap as she's not seated very properly in that armchair. Sideways. Legs curled up, a fur throw over her lap to keep it somewhat decent. "Pour me a bit more? Niahvth clutching so many has driven some fear into some holders," though, not all it would seem, "There's talk of Thread returning early. One hundred sixty odd turns early." Her dryness indicates where she falls on that line of thinking. In order to do so, K'del needs to set aside his own hides, but that's easily done: both glasses receive a refill as he says, laughing, "Can't hurt for them to worry about it, though. Something that works in our favour for once, right? Guess they all still remember the Comet Pass at that." As he reclaims his seat, he hesitates. Then, glancing at the goldrider he says, casually, "Mielline came to me with something interesting, the other day." "Snowdrift?" It's not a question of clarification. She knows who Mielline is and what wing she runs. It's a placeholder inquiry while Irianke reaches for the glass and brings it to her lips. It's a passive way of asking for more information. "Snowdrift," confirms K'del, unnecessarily. "Apparently one of her wingriders can into a starcrafter. A cartographer, to be specific. It sparked some ideas: the woman was frustrated by lack of ready transport, and there was a suggestion that the Weyr would be useful with that. And a further suggestion that... well, that's an occupation that could be benefitted by craftriding. If we could build that bridge." Irianke considers this, her chin resting on the edge of her cup and a deep breath taking in the scent of their drink of choice tonight. "Hmmmm." The goldrider looks down at her candidate roster sheets that hold no information for what she wants to know. "How is that any different than what we offer the Holds now? Ahhh." The Weyrwoman suddenly smiles. "Something formalized. Contracts. Something more than what sweepriders can do and what watchriders request. Monetize our services for transport? Will we anger or spark appreciation in our beholden areas?" "I suppose it depends on if they can see the benefits to them. If we can sell the idea. But contracts, yes. Formal agreements." K'del straightens, tapping his fingers upon the edge of his glass, then lifting it up for a sip. After he's swallowed, "If we can do things more efficiently than they are done in other ways, that's the key. Maps are an obvious example: if we can do it, it saves sending our a surveying party, one that might need supplies and more manpower." Irianke predicts in a low, unamused, sing-song, "They won't like it." Her dulcet voice rasps against the words. "It will be hard to back track against turns of doing this for free when our primary function was to fight Thread." But it's not a no. K'del's sigh is a melancholy one. "They won't like anything we do," is his reply. "Anything that might result in change. The key is to make sure we're offering more than what we used to. But whatever we do, formalising things-- with both Holds and Crafts-- is probably important. If we have contracts, we know exactly what to expect, and so do they." "Wise. Will you take point on this, or shall we trust Mielline to do so?" Irianke asks, opting herself out by omission. "Perhaps her crafters can suss out likely crafts who might want such contracts within High Reaches Weyr. I hesitate to offer services to crafters not posted here, unless it's a Weyr versus Weyr battle you'd like to see." She's amused, in that way any ludicrous suggestion evokes humor. "Which, it'd help us see if the idea churning deliciously in the gossip mill about a craft-centric wing has any merit." K'del has a low chuckle for the possibility of a Weyr versus Weyr battle, though that's all the dimissal it gets; perhaps it's all the dismissal it needs. "Mielline suggested R'vel as an asset, seeing as he has a craft background," is what he says, instead, that blue-eyed gaze lingering on the weyrwoman for a moment. "I prefer the craft-centric wing gossip to the insistence of that one about my closing Glacier. Still-- I'm not opposed to the craft-centric wing, if there's enough riders who would like to continue practicing their old craft." "It might be useful in the Interval, should our grand schemes to make Hold and Hall dependent on the Weyrs backfire on us." Irianke cozies into the armchair, allowing the papers in her lap to go even more askew when she readjusts. Candidate numbers ad nauseum, who really cares? "It'd be nice to have a wing that allows our crafters to practice and offer their skills to us in the Interval. I have an assistant headwoman looking into current and old contracts and will likely task her to repurposing them to fit this situation, while the healer craft seems open to the idea." Plagiarize and pillage for a good cause. "We could," she suggests, "Blend the two together. If the Halls are willing to train those riders who would like to continue in their crafts, we'd reciprocate with services. Formally, of course." K'del worries at his lip with his front teeth, listening intently to what Irianke has to say. She cozies; he straightens, his shoulders drawing back as he considers the possibilities. "And in turn, they'd need to provide us fewer posted crafters?" he suppose, at the end. "There's merit to that. Their reach would be improved, their convenience. If the healers are amenable, that's a good start. We can manage without some of the crafts, if we have to, but healers are pretty vital." "Do gooders, the lot of them," is said fondly. "Life would be infinitely more difficult without healers in our life." Curled up Irianke nuzzles the fur blanket now up at her chin better. "Are you worried? About the numbers? I fully expected Niahvth to clutch maybe four... at the most eight. Is it a testament to Cadejoth's prowess?" The tease is light; the worry real. The hesitance in K'del's expression is echoed in his stance; there's a stiffness about his shoulders, now, and a thin line upon his lips. "When Cadejoth caught Hraedhyth," he says, finally, "it was also an abbreviated flight. Lythronath injured him, badly, and they scarcely stayed up at all after the clutch. But that was significantly longer still than--" He pauses, licking his lips. "It was a surprise. It's still a surprise. It's... shells, I don't know, Irianke. The dragons are supposed to know, but if that's so... what is it they know, this time?" "What ifs won't help plan for the future." Irianke says from beneath those furs, her voice muffled before she unearths herself. Pragmatic to the core, and yet. The goldrider pulls herself out of the coziness of that chair to get to her feet. "Maybe Cadejoth is Weyrleader for a reason." Oh, Irianke. "Let's not worry about things until we have to worry about them," continues the person planning for the future at every moment. "We have enough on our plate to worry about without the thought that Thread is actually returning." Is her nose twitching? Growing longer? No? K'del's head lifts, as Irianke rises, gaze watching her again. "Mm," is what he says, finally, evidently taking her words without real query. "That's true, of course. Doesn't mean I'm not interested in continuing to think ahead, just in case. Don't ever want to be caught unprepared if there were signs, that's all. Not what ifs, just... emergency preparedness." A bob of the head follows, his way of dismissing the topic. "Sleep well, Irianke. I'll talk to Mielline and R'vel in the morning." No one will know the internal struggle going through Irianke's head as much as Niahvth in this moment and some of it leaks in a physical manifestation where the gold reclines against Cadejoth on the sands. It even vibrates in her touch, currently always in contact with her mate before subsiding. "K'del," Irianke begins, a step taking her to the Weyrleader, but then is taken back. "I wouldn't worry. Niahvth knows nothing of signs, and if not the queen who clutched than who, right?" None of those internal struggles show in Irianke's expression, and other than that one step, or misstep, her own worries fail to surface visibly. "One of these days," says the goldrider, jumping off into another late night tangental tease, even while walking away, "I'll get you drunk enough to get that sex you owe me." The joke is getting old. Cadejoth's aware of it; K'del's aware of it as a result, though it's his bronze who shows it: the stutter of electricity in his chains, and then the soothing (intended-to-be-soothing) rattle of bones. "Irianke?" The uncertainty in K'del's voice seems to suggest pretty clearly that he's not convinced by what she says, nor distracted by that tease-- or, at least, not fully. His lips press together, he hesitates, and then? "Better start stockpiling the good stuff." In the end, that's easier than pushing, though it doesn't stop him from studying her retreating back. |
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