Logs:The Folly of Youth
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| RL Date: 17 October, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Quint |
| Involves: Harper Hall, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis gives Quint a lift back to the Weyr from Harper Hall. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 1, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Kharven/Mentions |
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Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge
bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever
so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and
surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but
less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's
grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained
meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.
At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns,
including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to
the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the
southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass
through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of
redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the
very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake,
there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl,
standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.
Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor. It's not at all an unusual occurrence for the request for transport from Harper to come though to whichever rider's secured transport duties for the day. The Journeyman Harper's waiting in the courtyard, rugged up against the cold winter winds, gesturing for the rider to remain where she is as he clambers up with a kind of familiarity that suggests he's ridden frequently enough to get his straps sorted. "Home, if you please, dear rider," Quint murmurs to Edyis once he's settled. It's not snowing at Harper like it as at High Reaches, but it's no less cold in either place, and only marginally warmer-by-comparison than between. The brownpair arrives promptly, proper greetings given, and a spare flight jacket offered. While Akluseth squirms a little as the man clambers up Edyis seems professional enough, double checking the straps. A brow arches at the word home, and she glances at the hall a moment some unspoken question there. "Yes, sir." Politely, as the brown launches into the air without giving warning. Quint shakes off the offer of the jacket, his own being sufficient, or being far too manly to accept -- either way, he's well-settled. There's a grunt of surprise at the abrupt launch into the air, though it comes seconds after, rather than as it happens, as if it might be affected. The harper's gloved fingers grip at the straps until they steady out. She doesn't seem to care one way or the other, the refused jacket stowed back away. The flight evens out quickly enough, A few wingbeats before they blink between and emerge above the spires. Even if Quint's familiar enough with dragons to strap himself in, the harper tenses as they go between, clearly bracing himself. The slow exhale of his breath is more felt than heard as they emerge into the snowfall. "Don't care for between?" She asks glancing over her shoulder as they spiral down for a landing, the brown taking his sweet time in doing so. Clearly, Quint's not worried about his manly reputation so much, since he lets out a low laugh that might not be audible above the wind as they descend. "Do you? I can't fathom anyone becoming accustomed to it." He shakes his head, near inaudible mutter following: "Riders just learn to hide it better." He's glancing over the side, apparently aware of the length of time it's taken to descend and attempt to discern the reason for it. "Between never really bothered me all that much," She admits, with the ghost of a smile, "You do it often enough and it just becomes second nature." There's a shrug, and the brown finally sinks claws into the fresh fallen snow in the bowl, a chuffing rumble given at the tiny human things still sitting on his back. "You are the new harper, appointed a few months back right?" She asks then, slipping down leaving Quint to his own escape plan. Once he's free she works on undoing Akluseth's straps, folding them over one shoulder. "They say you teach?" Quint's answering, "Mmm," hovers somewhere between humoring and non-committal acknowledgement. He's silent until the brown lands, and then he frees himself from the straps, giving a near-absent pat to Akluseth's hide in mute thanks before he slips carefully to the ground, steadying himself with a hand briefly on the brown's leg as his boots crunch into the snow. "New, yes," the harper echoes, with a certain amusement. "I suspect I'll be called that for Turns to come, having not nearly the tenure Kharven did." He dusts down his jacket, adjusting the sack he carries, head lifting. "Yes. I teach." The brown cranes his neck eyeing the humans for a moment, but as soon as the straps are free, he's off again. "By some probably, Edyis, of Brown Akluseth, at your service, and utterly without proper manners." Apologizing for the belated introduction. "I was surprised Kharven transferred out, but then again Jeroman's lectures can drive anybody up a wall." She laughs again, and of teaching "Everything or do you have a particular specialty?" "Quintus," the harper replies in turn, with the scant indication of a bow. "But I assume you already know that, being that you have the advantage of me," he says, with a smile. Of Kharven, he is measured: "Harpers are sent wherever they are required. Just as riders are." He half turns to protect his eyes from the snow when the brown takes off, and, dusting off his jacket again, he returns his gaze to Edyis. "Teaching is my specialty. Disappointing, I am sure, to those who see the epitome of harper as a vocalist." With a flashed grin, to suggest there's no malice in the comment, "But I find an incredible satisfaction in ensuring our history is remembered and learned from." Edyis laughs, "Hardly." She says of advantages, and of the Journeyman there's another shrug. "I had no idea there was an epitome of what a Harper should be. I was actually hoping you'd say scribe work, but history is a fascinating topic in its own right." She shifts the straps, dark eyes glancing about for a moment before her attention rests on him again. "No matter how often we manage to repeat it?" She wonders mildly. "Especially when," the Journeyman harper replies, all too swiftly. "And while I'm a decent scribe -- I don't think they let anyone out of Harper who isn't -- I much prefer to hear the history of people, from people. It gives it color, meaning," Quint says, taking a couple of steps, before pausing. "Don't you think?" "Are we discussing history or truth?" Edyis wonders, for a moment, shifting her weight. "Seems like history has a tendency to change depending on who you talk to, folks have a habit of remembering things in a certain light. Tends to make history kaleidoscopic. Rather than straight forward." There's a shrug, "But I'm not a harper, so I don't really know my ass from my elbow on the subject." With a spread of his hands, the harper says, "Both are equally subjective." With a quick smile, Quint says, "And yet you seem given to a strong opinion on the subject, Edyis. Hard to dissemble after such an impassioned stance," he's grinning, however, rather than recriminating. With a stamp of his boots, he says, "I'm going to get some warmth back into my bones. Thank you for the ride." Edyis snorts, "I'm told being impassioned comes with youth, and can be dismissed as youthful folly." Grinning at the harper then, "It was truly a pleasure Journeyman Quintus." Making off in the direction of her own warmth. "Perhaps," Quintus allows, with a smile. "I try not to dissuade such follies, however." With the sketch of a half bow, the Journeyman crunches his way across the snow towards the craft quarters. |
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