Logs:A Home For Beastly
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| RL Date: 2 November, 2015 |
| Who: Quinlys, C'ris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys does a favor for C'ris (and Beastly). |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 3, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
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| It's evening on another day of weyrling mayhem. Dinner is finished, and the weyrlings themselves have some free time (of a sort) before bed; Quinlys, who is nominally supervising, has retreated to her office with the door open, ready for any incidents that require her attention, but otherwise checked out. One foot is up on the table, toes pointed within their heavy winter boot; the other is tucked up beneath her. She's not got the whiskey out, because that would be inappropriate when a person is on duty, but she's otherwise the very picture of relaxation. The first indication of an 'incident' is the excited yips that come from the cavern beyond. They are distinct from the noises made by baby dragons, and followed quickly by shushing and reassuring murmurs in a distinctly masculine voice. She does not need to get up to investigate, however, because before long the source of it appears hesitating in the crack of her door. "Hey, uh, Quinlys. Do you-- have a second? Now?" C'ris questions, his fluffy head poking through first. "I, uhm. Need a favor." Quinlys stiffens-- straightens-- at the sound of that disturbance outside, but it's true that she hasn't progress much further than that before C'ris' presence there renders it less urgent. "A favor." That foot, the one on the table? It retreats, pulled away so that it can return to the floor. "What's going on, C'ris?" Don't mind her, sounding wary. Why wouldn't she be wary? "Well, you see--." C'ris hesitates, then steps inside the office. His boots and the hems of his pants are still muddy, though it is mostly dry now, and his clothes are a rumpled mess. But the soft, fluffy canine pup wiggling in his arms is perfectly clean, the golden fur groomed recently. The canine's tongue lags out for a moment, before he starts to howling excitedly at this new person, starting a fresh round of wiggling to get down to explore. "Shh, shh, shush. We're asking her for a favor. You have to be on your best impression, ok boy? Give her a smile." And it does seem as if the canine smiles at Quinlys even as the bluerider's lips lift into one as he looks back up at the Weyrlingmaster. "I, uh, found him. He was stuck in the feeding pens; he's lucky he didn't get trampled. But, well--." Quinlys? Not generally a cute-fluffy-animal-isn't-it-adorable kind of person. She was raised in a Weyr, after all, and... not generally a lot of that around, baby dragons excepted. So, yes, she stiffens again, forearms pressed upon the table of the table as she leans forward and stares. "What the-- shells, C'ris." She's not looking at the puppy, now; just at C'ris, those red brows raised. "You can't keep a dog. It'd probably throw itself off your ledge in distress or something." C'ris flushes. He'd probably even ruffle at his hair self-consciously if his arms weren't full of puppy, so instead he ruffles at the golden fur. "No, I-- realized this. But. I can't take him back to the stables," he explains carefully. "Beastly has become too used to warm baths and caverns and--." Beastly, apparently, yips again happily at hearing his name, as if agreeing with the sentiment. A laugh catches in the bluerider's eyes, except he sobers again and takes a bracing breath before he asks, "I was hoping... that he could stay here. He can come and go, and I promise to train him to keep out of the way. He's not afraid of dragons, so--." "Beastly." Quinlys lets this hang in the air between them, and those arms? Now they're crossed beneath her breasts, as she looks at the other bluerider. "Too used to warm baths and caverns... how long have you had him, C'ris? Because I'm pretty sure one bath doesn't equate to 'too used to.'" It's probably only the first of her objections, but she holds off on the rest of them for now, eyes narrowed. Then again, she hasn't offered an immediate refusal, either. "Look at him," C'ris says/pleads, hefting the pup up at an eye level for the Weyrlingmaster to see. "This is totally the face of a canine too cute to go back to the stables. One bath, and anyone would fall in love with him." The lift has Beastly wiggling again, trying to escape to explore, but he only drags him back to his chest and keeps him pinned there carefully, gently. "I'll owe you. Please, Quinlys. I have a bottle of whiskey with your name on it. Or anything you want, really. Whatever." Quinlys' mouth pulls. "What happens when one of the dragons decides he looks like lunch?" she queries. "Or sits on him. Or he chews someone's shoes. Or poops in someone's couch." But her gaze has, perhaps without her even properly noticing, fallen onto the wiggling puppy. "He won't. I promise. I will train him and take care of him and make sure that there's no problems," C'ris is quick to assure, flashing a bright smile to the Weyrlingmaster even for asking these questions. "And the dragons-- they'll know better than to eat him. It's not like we'd eat them. It'll be good for the hatchlings to learn how to deal with a puppy. Make them more aware of themselves and their claws and teeth." "And when there are no weyrlings around?" And thus, no C'ris? No Quinlys? The weyrlingmaster's mouth has set, but she's still not saying no. "I'll still be here every day, checking on him. He can keep tunnelsnakes and other things away when the barracks are empty. He'll be useful," C'ris answers quickly, and the pup takes it as the right time to bark his own agreement again. Quinlys's heart may not have been melted (but give her time), but now, with a sigh, she leans backwards in her chair, taking in both bluerider and dog rather than simply one or the other. "If I say you, you'll promise to accept any change to that without question? If he causes problems, you'll accept his being banished back to the stables. Without complaint or argument. Do you hear me?" C'ris nods solemnly, accepting the condition that Quinlys puts on it. But then, he can't help but to ask with warm humor, "Do I still owe you a bottle of whiskey?" 'Yes' would be the obvious answer, and the quick one, but Quinlys hesitates. Her arms unfold so that she can rub at her eyes, as if she's already regretting this decision; already seeing the potential for trouble. "No," she says, with a sigh. "But have it on stand by for the first time he eats my paperwork, pisses on the rug, or interrupts lessons because he can't shut the fuck up." This was a stupid, stupid idea. C'ris laughs, a bright, happy thing that only sets Beastly off into a promising round of joining yips. Which quickly means the bluerider has to stop laughing to shush him all over again. Once he's stopped, though, his smile is all for Quinlys as he tells her, "Thank you, Quinlys. Thank you so much. You won't regret this, I promise." One of Quinlys' brows lifts, so very, very dubious-- but she sighs, shakes her head, and says, "I doubt that very much. But-- we'll see. But he cannot come into the office, do you hear me?" Watch, he'll be sleeping in his own little bed in here within a sevenday. Just watch. "Ok. I'll train him that this is off-limits. He's a quick learner. Right, Beastly?" Beastly growls a little sound, which only sets a fresh smile on C'ris's lips as he looks back up to Quinlys. And then he puts the pup down on the ground, since it is now his home. "I will just, uh, get him out of here," is considered even as he tries to approach the Weyrlingmaster to sniff her in exploration. "Do you need me for anything this evening?" Quinlys has managed, thus far, not to smile in response to either puppies (because this, obviously, is what C'ris is). It's a little bit more difficult when there is a puppy sniffing at your fingertips, however, for all that she's plainly trying. "What, you're going to leave the puppy here alone?" Maybe she hadn't thought this far. "Without someone to watch him?" "No, no. Uh, I was just going to go get him some food and then start his training," C'ris is quick to assert, raking at his own fluffy hair as he grimaces. "I figured I could take the night shift with him, tonight. Stay in the barracks. At least, you know, until he's trained up and used to being here. But if you needed me to do something, I could--." He doesn't finish, because he obviously doesn't know how to juggle more at the moment. But his earnestness implies that he'd figure it out. Relief is obvious in Quinlys' expression; the puppy, now, is getting a somewhat dubious glance, though she has attempted a half-hearted rub of his ears. "Oh," she says. "Well. All right. That's fine. Just remember: the weyrlings come first, when you're here. He's going to have to learn that, and so are you, if you want to be more than a volunteer. Go on, get out of here." Where Quinlys gives an inch, the puppy takes a mile in rubbing his head eagerly against that extended hand, petting himself. C'ris steps forward to scoop him back up with a smile, and then on impulse leans over to hug Quinlys with his free arm in a quick gesture. "Thank you," he repeats warmly, withdrawing with Beastly before he starts towards the door before the Weyrlingmaster can change her mind. A hug?! This is all getting too much, though in truth, Quinlys' expression has simply retreated to 'bemused' by the time C'ris and Beastly have made their way to the exit. She'll live to rue this... probably. |
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Comments
Alida (00:40, 3 November 2015 (PST)) said...
When Alida finally get her own pup, someday... I'm going to have to remember to have her bring it to the weyrling barracks. *evil smile*
Silva (05:45, 3 November 2015 (PST)) said...
C'ris. I adore him.
"This is totally the face of a canine too cute to go back to the stables. One bath, and anyone would fall in love with him."
Squishy (10:02, 3 November 2015 (PST)) said...
C'ris and Beastly are clearly too charming for Quinlys's own good.
Squishy (10:02, 3 November 2015 (PST)) said...
C'ris and Beastly are clearly too charming for Quinlys's own good.
Squishy (10:02, 3 November 2015 (PST)) said...
C'ris and Beastly are clearly too charming for Quinlys's own good.
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