Logs:In the Face of Fear
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| RL Date: 11 January, 2016 |
| Who: K'del, Lys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrleader and weyrling discuss the latest weyrling happenings and their participation in Nabol |
| Where: Kichen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today. |
| Mentions: Ellerey/Mentions, Eriskel/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, S'rin/Mentions, Tevrane/Mentions, Ustelan/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
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>---< Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr(#267RJs) >----------------------------------<
Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods
characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths
gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost
always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its
denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample
space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry
and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a
day-to-day basis.
The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating:
swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner
caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food
service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and
benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
K'del M 37 6'4" slender, toffee hair, baby blue eyes 6m
Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s It's well past dinner, and no doubt K'del could use that opportunity to have food delivered to his weyr-- but no. Instead, he's taken up residence in one of the nooks off of the kitchen, slowly (but steadily) working his way through a plate of leftovers that one of the evening kitchen staff has put together for him. Given the hour, it's probably not surprising that most of the people still left are those on cleanup and dish duty, a few of the girls giggling and gossiping as they put away stack of plates after stack of plates. K'del doesn't seem inclined to pay much mind to them; he looks tired, shoveling his food into his mouth rather as if he's not really aware of what it is he's eating. Never let it be said that weyrlings live dull lives. Even if it's not bracing for the first terrifying trip between or learning how not to end up burnt during flaming drills, the familiar routine of training and drilling can still be interrupted for adventures that make one late for supper. Lys' arms are tellingly shiny in the glow light, though her clothing is clean. No doubt an emergency oiling was in order come dinner and so now the weyrling schmoozes one of the kitchen assistants with more sass than charm and ends up wiht a plate of her own in search of a seat. "Do they let weyrlings join the Weyrleader for dinner?" the blonde asks as she comes to a stop by the tired-looking bronzerider. "If it helps, Evyth's too big to go after yours here," now. There's a smile for that, perhaps a little shy but friendly. "Probably wouldn't notice if she did," admits K'del, who glances up to meet Lys' gaze, and even manages to smile as he does so. "But please, join me. You can update me with everything that's going on with weyrlings-- know the older clutch are senior weyrlings, now, but seems like I haven't had a moment to catch up with the rest of you." "That close to falling asleep sitting up?" Lys asks with some measure of sympathy as she slides into the seat opposite him with her plate. "I hear that Weyrleaders, like Weyrwomen, lead busy lives. And that you don't even have assistants to help you with it, formally." Lys, the former formal assistant, would know, wouldn't she, how very useful personal assistants can be? Not that she's judging, of course not. She smiles, "Betweening. No one burned themselves or one another, beyond the minor last month. Ellerey and Jocelyn were very--" she pauses, choosing the adjective, "conscientious about the safety procedures. I think V'ret and S'rin will be as well for this dangerous thing. But that's the last big hurdle for us, right?" So hopefully they'll all get through it. Wryly, "It's been a long day." That's all K'del seems to intend to say about that, bypassing the rest of Lys' comments along those lines in order to focus, more intently, upon what she says about the weyrlings. "Pretty much," he agrees. "Not that between ever stops having the potential to be dangerous, just... you get good at it. It becomes second nature, I suppose. And then Pern is your oyster; you can go anywhere in the blink of an eye. Thought much about where you'd like to visit?" Lys' nod is understanding to the continued dangers of between as she eats. Between one mouthful and the next, she answers, "The weyrlings," probably herself included, "are abuzz about Ista. Black sands, warm beaches. I wonder if Ista keeps track of when all the snowy Weyrs' weyrlings are learning to between so they can hike drink prices at the right time." That's a little wry. "I expect they'll be talking more, soon, about going to Nabol." Blue-green gaze settles on the Weyrleader thoughtfully, "I am curious about that, but if this is one of those times I shouldn't ask why and should just follow orders, I can do that too." It's asking permission to ask, or maybe inviting answer without asking. "Especially," acknowledges K'del, "when it is winter at High Reaches, or close enough to." Of Nabol, he takes his time, pausing to stab a piece of potato with his fork, and then break off half of it, mashing it with the back of the utensil. "Nabol was hard-hit by the plague, and was still recovering, in some ways, from earlier turns of difficulty. In the interests of keeping relations positive, and ensuring we get as much tithe as we can, we're lending what assistance we can." It's a politican's answer, though K'del's intentions seem genuine. "From the conflict over the succession," Lys defines that earlier conflict probably because she's a weyrling used to studying and repeating relevant details. Her eyes slide away from their searching regard of the Weyrleader's face to her own meal. "Sowing goodwill while we harvest more tangible proof of it," she sums up. "Does it seem like Lady Tevrane is managing her assets well? I mean, of course it's not our place to say and-- but I just mean, I hope there won't be idle hands thinking the dragons should do the work, or we should." She chews her lower lip thoughtfully. K'del's nod confirms that definition, a low dip of his chin. "So far," the weyrleader ventures, after a few moments more, "the holders I've spoken to have been grateful for the assistance, and disinclined to abuse it. Can't guarantee that it will be that way for all of them; there's always those who'll abuse the system. How much of that is Tevrane's input is more difficult to say. There's been some... well. Keep your ears open, when it's your turn for a visit. Be interesting to see what kind of things you hear and see." "It is sometimes amazing what people are willing to say to young, pretty people," Lys observes as idly as if she were commenting on the pleasant weather without. "I'll listen, and to the other weyrlings, too. Some of the youngest might hear more than me." She brings a forkful to her mouth, chewing. "I'm not sure how I would have felt, if I were living in Nabol during the plague. I mean, we-- you," Lys can't claim this 'we,' "didn't take unnecessary risks, but you didn't abandon your Weyr to be managed by others until the danger passed." She's frowning now. "Seems like bravery or cowardice is what we do in the face of fear, not in the absence of it." And Nabol's Lady didn't do well in that test by the weyrling's estimation if her expression is to be believed. "Exactly so," agrees K'del, pausing in order to finish the rest of his potato, though his gaze lingers on Lys as he eats. "It's interesting, isn't it? What people decide to do in the face of danger-- especially as leaders of other people. Is your safety worth more than someone else's, and to what degree?" He's very carefully not stating an opinion on Tevrane, at least with his words, though there's something visible in his expression; a moue of distaste, perhaps. "It's not what I would've expected of Lady Nabol, a few turns ago." Lys chews on that thought as she takes another few bites. "On the one hand, I can see where in Nabol particularly, losing the confirmed Lady Holder might be more devastating than elsewhere where successions are more clear cut." These were no small thoughts she was thinking while she chewed, apparently. "It would be terrible for a devastating event, the plague, in this case, to incite another devastating event, something like what happened before. So from that perspective, I can see where the caution might be warranted, but at the same time, I can't imagine respecting a leader who was as hands off as it sounded like she was for that whole time. Seems like there should've been a better option." That might be easy to say now that the plague is behind them. K'del pauses to consider Lys' summation of the situation, and then twists his mouth upwards, offering a counterpoint: "Lady Tevrane's grandson may be young, but he has been formally named her heir. It's certainly not ideal to consider a pre-teen Lord Holder, but it would have been conceiveable to protect him while still remaining in the public eye herself. Having said that," he acknowledges, as he sets down his fork, "It's entirely possible that some of her relatives would attempt to fight the claim, were it to come to that. Lord Ustelan did his Hold no favours when he failed to name an heir." "True," Lys agrees after a moment's thoughtfulness of her own. "It seems like all leaders could benefit from the lesson. Not that Weyrs have heirs." But. How many bronzeriders would be ready to step into K'del's shoes and not fuck it up if they had to tomorrow? The greenrider looks down at her mostly empty plate, brows knitting. When she speaks again, though, it's to ask, "Sir, if a weyrling wanted an unconventional wing placement, would that request be something to submit to you or to the wingleader first?" Evidently lacking any further to say on the topic of Nabol, K'del goes back to eating what remains on his plate-- though he's relatively promtply surprised into silence by Lys' question. "Guess that depends on what kind of unconventional we're talking about," he admits, after a moment. "You can certainly discuss an interest with a wingleader, though there's no guarantee that they will be interested, or that, should they be, it ends up being feasible for whatever reason. What kind of unconventional are we talking about?" "Before I Impressed, I was good at my job." Lys begins by way of answer, letting her fork move around some of the remaining food to settle her nervous energy. "I got very good at anticipating the needs of my Weyrwoman," some of them, at any rate, "and though I'm a rider now, and proud to be one, sir," that point draws her eyes up give the Weyrleader an earnest look, "I've wondered if I might be of most use within the queen's wing. It wouldn't be drawing baths and making sure there's new stationary every day, but everyone needs help. I could be helpful." Perhaps she hasn't fully thought through how exactly, but. "Do you think they might, now that we're in Interval, accept permanent chromatics into Aurora?" K'del's expression is impassive as Lys begins her explanation, though a frown can steadily be seen lurking about his eyes, and then, in turn, his mouth. "We may not need dragonriders to fight thread," his answer comes, eventually, "but that doesn't mean we don't need dragons and their riders in the wings, performing outreach." It seems pretty plain that he's not an instant advocate for the idea, something that is confirmed when he shakes his head. "You could, of course, discuss the possibility with the weyrwoman, and I would certainly take her thoughts into consideration, but from my perspective... I'm not sure I see exactly what it is you think you would be doing." "In practice, probably a lot of paperwork," holds some small amount of humor. Lys sets her fork down, and very maturely responds, "I appreciate you sharing your perspective with me, sir." She must be paying attention in silver thread lessons. "If it seems worth pursuing the request, I'll be sure to offer concrete ideas for you to consider. I'll understand in any case," as if this might be helpful assurance. "I should get back to Evyth, sir. Permission to be excused?" K'del is silent a few moments more, half-studying Lys' expression as if attempting to gauge her reaction. In the end, however, he simply nods: "Of course," he says, though whether it is for concrete ideas or for her request to be excused, it's more difficult to say. "Have a pleasant evening." |
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