Logs:Mush
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| RL Date: 13 September, 2015 |
| Who: Harilan, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Discussing the feeding pens somehow doesn't put Harilan and Telavi off their (his!) sandwiches. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Faryn/Mentions |
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| Harilan's is a new face around the weyr, well pseudo new anyway. The beast craft apprentice perched at a table with a plate of sandwiches and a mostly empty pitcher of ale. It's late in the afternoon, but a nice break point between the usual round of duties. And then he has a Telavi, whose seamstress friend has just left to go back to work, turning around from the table right next to his; he'd have had a direct view of braided blonde hair and a pert cap, but now the girl herself is looking at him, green-today eyes and a smile. "How are they?" A smile, and a nod to what sandwiches remain. "Better with a bit of broth to soak them in, but since I'm stuck cleaning the feeding pens today," He opted for something less messy. There's a casual lift of his mug, and a lift of one shoulder. "Try one for yerself if you like?" He adds on as an afterthought, giving her a once over. "Harilan." He offers by way of introduction. Her brows tilt up, forestalling a reach for those very same sandwiches; "You have already, or you will have?" Tela double-checks. "To clean?" Is he clean? Does he look clean? Are there any odors that permeate the air?! "You know, to clean up the mess dragons leave behind after they eat." He at least, is clean. "Gotta go back out when I finish my lunch, get a count on the herds." There's another shrug, as he seems not to care if she wants to share his lunch or not. Chomping down on another bite of his sandwich Harilan watches her. "Oh, I'm sorry." She looks it, too, with those limpid green eyes and that downturn to her mouth; if it weren't for that soft golden tan, outside might never have touched her a day in her life. "Tela," her name, "Thank you," because she's reaching to try that sandwich unless there are take-backs. "No reason to be sorry, Just kills the appetite a little." He offers her a wide smile then. "Feel free to sit down too. My uncle always said it was rude to stand an eat." Not that it ever stopped the herder much. "So what do you do around this joint? Seems like everybody does something in a Weyr." Tela tilts her head, considering him, and then smiles and slides from the seat at what had been 'her' table to the corresponding one at his, bringing her drink along. Were it evening, her abandoned seat might have been snagged right away, but as it is... "I make messes in those pens, you could say, except really it's Solith and only every few months or so. Is your uncle a herder, also?" Harilan laughs, a deep barreling sound. "She only eats once every few months?" He's curious now, "Nah he's a bluerider, icicle I think or some such. Haven't really told him and my aunt that I was assigned back here." There's another shrug. "Are all riders as pretty as you are?" He wonders then. "No, no. Although maybe I shoud say a few days, every few months? She's perfectly capable of hunting outside the Weyr; most dragons do, or else you'd have far too many beasts to replace." Telavi has a thoughtful nod for Icicle, in that 'recognizing the wing but it isn't hers' sort of way; but then she's dimpling at him. "All of them. Why don't you chat up," she half-turns, visibly scanning the bar. "H'tron over there," the man even taller than Harilan, and hairier, if not quite as broad. Harilan arches a brow at the guy. "Sorry not my type sweetheart." With another easy shrug. "Replacing isn't hard, so long as you aren't decimating the breeding stock and grazing land." But there's an easy smile. "Still haven't told me yer name. I have noticed." She arches a brow at him, playful. "You have... missed it," Tela tells Harilan. "Right before I thanked you. You must have been stunned by my acceptance," she gives him an excuse, even if it's terribly tongue in cheek. "Sorry pretty girls turn my brain to mush." He admits sheepishly with a splay of thick fingers. "That or there wasn't much brain, there to begin with." He admits self-depriciatingly. Stuffing another bite into his maw. Tela peeks into the sandwich as though to check for brains there, but relieved, she smiles and-- after asking, "Why haven't you told your aunt and uncle? And what is your type?"-- tries a bite. Harilan laughs, "Girls for one. Though I'm a sucker for a killer smile." He admits, washing down the bite with more ale. "Just didn't really seem like it'd be that big a deal. Gotta live in the dormitories, and, I dunno. Just weird being in a weyr now I guess." Telavi makes a show of hiding her smile, now, if only behind the slowly diminishing sandwich; with a tilt of her head, "What's weird about that?" Not in 'Weyrs aren't weird!' style, but rather with her free hand lifting to wiggle her fingers, as though ready for him to list at least four ways. Harilan shrugs, "Just didn't feel the need to tell 'em s'all." He notes with a smirk as she hides her smile. "I get the message girlie. I'm not your type." No skin off his nose so to speak. Stuffing another sandwich into his mouth, possibly missing the fact that he's supposed to be explaining. Perhaps it's what he says that does it, that brings out Tela's barely-there sigh. "It's not that you're not cute," Telavi will freely abandon his relations to advise, "but I like a little more self-confidence. Or, a little less jumping to conclusions. Does that work for you?" she wonders genuinely. "Do you get girls protesting, 'ooh, no, Hari, you're just right'?" Harilan laughs, "At least you are honest about it. It's all good. Really." He leans back in his chair, then, taking another pull of ale. "Not really one to kiss and tell." He states with an easy smile. "But different strokes for different folks. I'm not gonna be everybody's cup of tea, and I'm comfortable with that." Whatever conclusions Telavi has jumped to, they bring out her dimples just a little; "If that's how you'd like to put it," she says. "So! Weyr. 'Weird.' Why?" Harilan says, "Can't afford to stand, getting assigned when there's two clutches expected on the sands." He shrugs, as he finishes the last of the sandwiches on his plate. "Sorta puts a damper on things. But, It's been real nice talking to ya, Tela." He might be guessing at the name. "Gotta get back to work soon though." "That does sound awkward," Telavi admits. "Especially when Faryn-- well, it was nice to meet you, Hari. At least you shouldn't get rained on!" That his jaw clenches at mention of the former beastcrafter's name is probably telling. But there's work to do. "Later." |
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