Logs:Candidate And Cooperation
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| RL Date: 1 March, 2013 |
| Who: Wakizian, K'del, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Wakizian gets caught in an Azaylia and K'del sandwich, and picks their brains. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 2, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Meara/Mentions |
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| Records Room, High Reaches Weyr Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls, and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded. A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets, scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets. To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture. Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs. The bad weather without has driven many of even the hardiest of 'Reaches residents within, finding ways to busy themselves locally rather than make a trip through the blizzard to get to their usual haunts. Such is the case with Wakizian, who looks as out of place as one of the spindly-limbed scribes that tends the Records Room would poking around at the forge where the burly lad is so oft found. Wakizian is settled at one of the desks with a number of scrolls spread out around him. The glow at the desk as been fully uncovered to give him maximum light as his eyes scrawl down one scroll before jumping to another. His cross-referencing is clear from his frequent shuffles between hides. All the while, he seems to maintain a barely audible mumble which mostly contains names of riders and dragons, and the occasional line of text as his eyes skim over it. The little nest of records he's made for himself make it plain that he's been at this a while. Once upon a time, K'del was a regular in the Records Room - back when that discreet staircase led so very directly from his weyr to here. These days... well, he's still not a stranger, still earning a glance and a warm smile from the scribe on duty as he enters. He seems to have a destination in mind, given the surety of his footsteps, but he's halfway there when one of Wakizian's mumbled names seems to catch his attention; hesitating, one foot in the air, he adjusts his path, moving to stand behind the Candidate, and glance over his shoulder to get a look at what he's doing. It's difficult for wind and snow to make it past the first few feet, not that it stops the bad weather from nearly blowing Azaylia into a wall near the entrance. Despite her lack of grace, there's no embarrassment in straightening herself up and dusting warm dress and cloak free of persistent flakes. With a gentle greeting for the scribe, she looks less focused in her slow wandering in the general direction of the older hides. K'del is the first to catch her eye, offering him a small smile that only grows at the studious candidate. The turn she makes is a quiet one, perhaps content to silently peer over Wakizian's shoulder in a similar fashion. Surely they don't mean to loom. The collection of information spread out on the candidate's work space are an assortment of hatching records and Weyrlingmaster progress reports, obviously nothing top secret, just the general who's doing well with what and what needs to be worked on. The records he's selected run from recent hatchings on back to the hatching records of some of the oldest active riders at reaches. So engrossed in what he's doing, Wakizian doesn't initially register the presence of K'del, or the entrance of Azaylia. It's only once both of them are looming that he stiffens in his hunched pose. Ever feel like you're being watched? Well, the feeling doesn't make the surprise of finding you actually are any easier. "Faranth's farts!" He blurts in surprise when tilting his head back reveals not only one set of interested eyes but two. The loud utterance earns him at least a surprised and not at all pleased look from one of the scribes on duty, and his cheeks flood red as just who owns those interested eyes. K'del's head turns, and he grins at Azaylia, acknowledging her with a bob of his head, though he's quick to turn his gaze back onto the Candidate and his research. That exclamation-- well, it makes him laugh, and then cover his mouth with his hand, apologetic. "Sorry," he says, apparently genuinely, contrition marking itself in his tone as well as in his expression. "Didn't mean to scare you. Just-- curious. You trying to find out anything in particular, there?" He takes half a step back, evidently to give the young man some room, though wherever he was headed has evidently been put aside for the moment. A hand flies up to cover Azaylia's mouth, stifling a soft giggle though not completely hiding her smile. "I don't know if I've ever heard that one before." Faranth's farts. Her apology follows quickly after K'del's, just as genuine and perhaps with a bit less humor. "You're not too spooked?" A hand finds Wakizian's shoulder, giving it a soothing there there pat. Her eyes trail from the lad to what he's been looking over, easing from behind him in order to lean over the table and get a better look. She doesn't touch anything, at least. Wakizian seems to start to recover himself in the moments that hold the apologies, the brightness starting to leave his cheeks, "You know, there should be a sign posted here. Warning: trespassers will be spied on and startled to death by people who know how to wear big knots." He shifts in his chair a bit and then leans it back a bit to balance on two legs, feet catching on the sturdy legs of the desk to ensure no accidents. This also gets him a little bit more out of Azaylia's way so she can get her better look. "Actually, sir, I was-- well, I was hoping to make some sense about why dragons Impress who they do. There's not as much in the way of records of the personalities of candidates who don't impress though, so I'm sort of only getting half the picture, and the picture doesn't seem to have any rhyme or reason anyway." "K'del," corrects the bearer of that name with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head, though he doesn't seem to make the correction with any particular expectation of it being listened to: he's used to being a sir. His arms cross in front of him, and he tilts his head just slightly to the side, considering the nature of Wakizian's research. "Not sure it's as simple as that," he says, after a moment. "Just down to personality, I mean. Reckon there's a whole range of personalities in riders-- not like there's a particular type who Impress. In the end, I think it has more to do with the personality of the dragons and who fits with them. What do you think, Azaylia?" He gives the goldrider a glance, smile verging on the deliberately encouraging. "Could ask Meara, though. Or Quinlys. Guess they'd've seen it in more detail." Azaylia's gentle smile remains, and at Wakizian's side she gives a tilt of her head, an opposite to K'del without realizing it. "Big knots?" It could be a light tease as she's got a bad habit of not wearing hers. Like now, for instance. When the candidate reveals the nature of his research, the goldrider seems less curious and a touch more confident. "The dragons just know." Is her reply to K'del, a small nod given to bronzerider and smith. "I'm sure it would be interesting to find out how, or why... but I don't think we ever will." It sounds as if there's some comfort, in that. "Some candidates have to stand more than a few times to Impress. So, their dragon knew but just wasn't out there yet." Certain in her uncertainty. "K'del." Waki repeats, at least making an effort to follow the bronzerider's wishes. "Yeah," The candidate agrees with a sigh, "That's what the research seems to be suggesting, but that certainly doesn't help anyone trying to figure it out." He shrugs his shoulders slightly, then looks from K'del to Azaylia, hesitating a moment before questioning, "Do you think those that are Searched by dragons are more likely to Impress than those who've been raised in the Weyr and ask or have been asked to join the candidate class?" He turns his head to look up at the goldrider, "Any chance you could ask Hraedhyth what her children will be looking for in lifemates? You know, give me an edge on the Sands?" As though one can just shape themselves to be fitting to a dragon in the relatively short span provided by a candidacy period. If there's one thing K'del is sure of, it's the answer to Wakizian's question: he shakes his head. Firmly. "Iolene wasn't Searched," he says, managing to say the former Weyrwoman's name without so much as a twitch of unhappiness. "Azaylia-- you asked to Stand, didn't you? I was Searched, but there's plenty of people who go on to Impress who weren't. Sometimes, the dragons just aren't looking, and sometimes it's more that-- well, the right dragon just happened to be there. Quinlys Stood twice. So did Brieli. And it's not really about having the right blood, either. No riders in my family, before me. Which..." He gives Wakizian a rueful grin. "Is not terribly helpful, I know." "I did. I actually asked you if I could Stand." Azaylia looks over at the bronzerider then down to Wakizian. "I honestly didn't mean... well, I didn't think I would Impress." Says she with the big gold dragon. A hide in particular snags her attention, names that are familiar enough for her to want to see what has been written. It's nothing terribly important, though her words sound somewhat distracted. "I'd like to think that people who ask are doing what Search dragons do." Romantic though meaningless words are left to sit in the air for a moment before she realizes what she's said. Or hasn't said. "Just that, be it dragon or the candidate's own doing, something makes sure that the dragonets are able to find their lifemates." Wakizian earns a fond glance, likely from the mention of her lifemate than his question. "She wouldn't know, I don't think. If you want her opinion, she only wants the strongest, bravest, toughest and most loyal for her brood." And possibly Iesaryth's, though that queen may have expectations of her own. It's then, as the conversation winds on that, Waki thinks to make gestures of welcome to the chairs at the adjoining desks, in case either rider would like to make themselves a little more comfortable. "You two don't mind if I pick your brains a bit, do you? I mean-- you've probably got loads more important things to do, but it would really put my mind at ease." The candidate clears his throat and for a moment there's a suspiciously duplicitous tone to his voice and a shadow of it in his expression: an inexperienced liar. Azaylia is accorded his puppy-dog please look. Maybe he thinks that kind of thing just wouldn't work on a man like K'del, or perhaps he's got a healthy respect for bronzeriders lest they mistake his intentions after Turnover. He snags a blank hide from under the others, and something to write with and scratches out Hraedhyth's successful candidate specifications. The information about who did what kind of searching versus Impressing is absorbed with a nod here or there, though it causes a bit of a frown to grow. "Well, that doesn't help narrow it down, then." "Oh yeah." K'del's expression turns briefly bashful as Azaylia's words remind him of something he probably shouldn't have forgotten. But then, it was more than two turns ago. He turns his gaze back towards Wakizian, his brows knitting expressively as he considers the young man and his alleged intentions. Evidently, however, he doesn't have anywhere else to be, and whether or not he believes, he's willing to stay: he sits, arranging long legs carefully beneath the table. "What's got your mind so... not at ease?" he wonders, then, leaning forward. It's not that he disbelieves, necessarily, but... he's brows have raised. "I mean - I'll answer anything I can. Seem to remember having questions myself, once upon a time, though I'm pretty sure I thought myself above actually asking them." At Wakizian's request, Azaylia is already pulling out a chair, her movements unhurried as she makes sure there's enough space between them so she isn't crowding him. "Of course." She might have a few hides to look over, but the goldrider can't help being helpful. The puppydog expression isn't necessary, but it does have her smile growing, a sign that she's at ease and likely oblivious to any possible untruths. "I imagine all mothers want what's best for their babies. I'm certainly not any of those things, and Hraedhyth still chose me." But then, Ysavaeth never did seem overly pleased with her daughter. K'del is forgiven, it seems, the goldrider looking over at him with a curiously attentive gaze. Who says you can't learn new things after impressing? "I wish I had thought of asking questions, before." Wakizian's smile seems to be pleasantly surprised somehow - whether he's surprised by the fact that they joined him without any coercive measures being taken (besides the puppy dog look!) or that he "got away" with whatever untruth he thinks he got away with is anyone's guess. With a thump, the front legs of the candidate's chair hit the ground and then a scraaaape has him sliding it back to more readily converse with the riders. He leans forward, fingers interlacing while elbows come to rest on the arms of the chair. "Well, it's been pointed out to me, si-K'del," He looks the man squarely in the face when he makes the correction, "That I haven't thought out the whole what happens if I Impress thing so far and I'm just trying to sort out my chances so I can decide if I need to do something shameful." Like back out. The words sound okay, but again, there's that little hint in his voice and his face that he's not being entirely truthful. "For instance, is there any deal I can make with anyone-- do anything for someone that would end up with me getting to keep my hair long if I Impress?" This question is posed to both. Azaylia receives a look with raised brows, "You're not any of those things? I'd-" He pauses, glancing toward K'del briefly, before: "-tend to disagree. I was actually pretty surprised to hear that Weyrwoman Brieli had-- well, that you weren't the one-- er, you know. In charge. After everything." K'del's gaze slides from one to the other, rather as though he's struggling to decide between chiding the goldrider for her lack of self-confidence, and getting to the bottom of... whatever it is he suspects of Wakizian's intentions, for better or for worse. Certainly, his mouth sets slightly harder, rather more like a frown. "He's right," he says to Azaylia, as an aside. "Rather seems to me you're exactly the kind of person Hraedhyth would want for her offspring." As to the rest of Wakizian's words on that subject, he can only look approving, and perhaps this ameliorates some of his distrust. "There's no way to know your chances, plain and simple. I've known people who didn't think they wanted to Impress who did, though I believe pretty firmly that if you absolutely, deep down, do not want to, no dragon would pick you. Hard to know, though; people don't always admit to what they want. As for your hair... guess that rather depends on the Weyrlingmasters. You could try." With arms lightly crossed atop the desk, Azaylia ducks her head, hand squeezing an arm during her moment of embarrassment. She clearly wasn't expecting to have her lack of confidence challenged by both of them. "Ah... thankyou." As for Brieli as Weyrwoman, "Things are what they are." Neutral, in both tone and expression which may be just as telling as if she had remarked with any clear emotion. Moving on, there's a sudden squeaky inhale, "Oh your hair." Motions to the runner's tail with a fluttering hand. "Oh no, I don't... My hair was down to my waist, and they still cut it." Not that the recovered length is easy to see given that she's wearing those twin buns today. With concerned eyes still turned towards the back of Wakizian's head, "Impression is worth it, though. And it'll grow back." She seems far less optimistic than K'del in this. "I guess the question is how badly you want it, if you do. Some people don't know what they want, until it happens." She's a good example of that. Wakizian had a hopeful smile for K'del's optimism: at least he knows with whom to start now. But then Azaylia had to go and be all realistic and the smile fades. "I don't know. I'd think growing it all back would be more of a pain than it would be worth." He pauses, "I suppose I'd at least be less likely to be mistaken for Lady Smith if I let them cut it though." He pauses, "Maybe I should do it preemptively? You know, get it out of the way now so if I Impress, the dragon doesn't have to go through that loss with me." For what a tragedy it would be! Or at least, so his tone suggests. "Have you placed bets on any of the candidates in this class?" He queries of the two, "Any ones you think are bound to Impress when the dragons hum?" This question is a little too pointed and the candidate seems to realize this as he's quickly jumping back to another topic to distract. "No disrespect to Weyrwoman Brieli meant, of course, but I'd feel more comfortable following your rules." A look flickers towards K'del, and though no words are spoken but the look is obvious and meaningful enough of one: and yours. "Worrying about hair was the last thing on my mind, when I was a new weyrling," recalls K'del, though of course it's unlikely his hair was ever much longer than it is now. "It's hard work. You might be better off just getting rid of it, you're right." Still, he seems amused by Azaylia's more emotional reaction to the topic, mouth twitching about the corners. Flattery seems to have reduced his suspicion, because when he glances back at the Candidate, he seems to have lost that wariness. "Never been my thing, placing bets on individuals - seems cruel, should they find out, and just... too specific. More inclined to place bets on colours, you know? How many of each. Not that I bet much, in general." K'del is given a glance, and it's clear that Azaylia understands hair isn't that important, but..! "Nonono. Don't." No selfish motivations here. Nope. "If you're, uhm... if your lifemate isn't on the Sands this time, then you'll have cut it for nothing." The mild, vain wind is taken out of her sails at Wakizian's unexpected support. She looks uncomfortable, but not displeased, "I appreciate it." Her gaze shifts over to K'del as the candidate's does, sentiments unintentionally matched. The goldrider straightens some, realizing that she's still wearing her cloak and begins to unfasten it, the blue-black cape left to hang on the back of her chair. "Bets?" As if she's forgotten that they happen, "Oh, no. I wouldn't bet money on the clutch or candidates. Though, I'll be cheering all of you on equally." Not just diplomatic, but the truth. Wakizian's expression is markedly disappointed when neither rider comes up with a list of candidates they suspect will Impress, but he does his best to lighten that look as quickly as he can (and he manages decently, though not perfectly). "I'm not a betting man either." The candidate confides to the riders, shrugging his shoulders. "I was just curious." Sure. He pauses, looking between the two, "I-- uh-- know that it's none of my business, really- well, a little my business since I'm of this Weyr, but not much of my business -- but..." He takes a deep breath and looks at Azaylia, "Why aren't you in charge?" Subtle as a Harper Drum. His specialty! "And I thought that if Taikrin was going to back someone-- well, you two seemed very-" He blushes, "-friendly at Turnover... I would have thought...?" The talk of hair seems to be dropped, though the looks for arguments for and against were definitely asorbed and are rumbling around in that big hairy head. "Uh--" begins K'del, suddenly discomforted by Wakizian's questions, his gaze seeking out Azaylia, then meandering across the room as he attempts to come up with an answer. "It's a complicated situation," he says, finally, carefully diplomatic. "No doubt both Taikrin and Brieli believe they're doing the right thing." It's nonetheless clear that he doesn't think so - and indeed, doesn't think much of their actions. "It's all only temporary, of course. Nothing's settled until the queens rise again, and-- well. Given how long that could be, it's not even necessarily settled until then." The weyrwoman is watching Wakizian with fresh curiosity. It's as if only now she realizes his line of questioning-- while not odd-- is strangely focused. "Are you... do you want us to say that we think you'll definitely impress?" Even if they did, such claims have been wrong in the past. There are always candidates left behind. When he manages to ask about the leadership, after much stammering, the lad will be able to see her brown eyes widen. A flicker of something like panic as she looks to K'del, catching his gaze before the bronzerider aims it elsewhere. "Uhm." She latches onto the explanation provided, "Yes. Complicated." There's no flush to tan skin, but it's safe to say the goldrider looks plenty embarrassed, especially at the mention of Turnover. "...Taikrin is, she... she's doing what she thinks is best." Trying not to sound as if it's personal, there's some soreness there. "Brieli, too." Less sure, but moreso than perhaps K'del. Wakizian is all ears until they've both said their piece. Then brown eyes are bouncing back and forth between bronzerider and goldrider. It's his turn to show suspicion, and unlike the subtle form it took with K'del, his is Wakizian's special brand of subtle. He's obviously certain there's a lot of things they're not telling him - just like the kid that asks Where do babies come from? before his parents are ready to explain. "Alright. Like I said. Not really much my business. I'll stop asking about it." But the set of his jaw says that that doesn't change how he feels about all of it. "To say that I'll definitely Impress?" He blinks surprised, "No. What? No." He shakes his head firmly. "I was just curious. You know. Part of my why do certain people Impress and others not research." He leans forward, suddenly interested in starting to separate the hides back into their original categories to be put away all the easier. "I was more curious about the others. Some of them are-- interesting." "It's a mess, and I reckon there's a lot of people who aren't happy, but-- it's our duty to follow our leaders. So." Not that K'del has, according to rumour, stopped backing H'kon, or stopped whatever it is he's been doing with the Wings that still listen to him. Nonetheless, he seems pleased to move back to that other topic, even if Wakizian's actual answer has his brow furrowing all over again. "Interesting? You'll have to enlighten me on that one." He chances a glance at Azaylia, brows lifting: does she know what he's talking about? "It is your business." Azaylia stresses, though softly. "Like you said, you live here too. Might be a rider here, soon." Not that she's looking to encourage anymore of his questions. "It's just hard to give answers certain things." She doesn't explain as to why, given that K'del's summed things up rather nicely. Though her first guess at Wakizian's reason is wrong, it doesn't keep the goldrider from fishing. K'del's look will earn him one of confusion, until there's a sudden spark of realization. "You're the boy that other candidate was trying to fight with. In the galleries." Draconic memories being what they are, it's up to the goldrider to remember such details. "Alida." She supplies the bronzerider with a name as well as, "She's... interesting." Just that, nothing negative in her tone. "Of course. And I certainly do my duty. But not blindly, or particularly silently when I have a question." The candidate is quick enough to agree with K'del's point, but with his own stipulations. Suddenly abashed, Wakizian reaches to rub the back of his neck and tug gently on his runner's tail. "Yeeeah, I was going to try to find you to apologize for that. And I don't really think Alida was trying to fight with me, so much as pretending to, to draw some boundaries. I was trying to make friends and apparently she doesn't fancy having me try to be friends for six turns or more until she finally lets me." He pauses, one boot toe scuffing at the stone floor, "I'm actually pretty sure it was my fault it happened at all. If your lifemate remembers the incident, please give her my apologies and my promise that nothing of the kind will happen again. At least, not there." He bites his lower lip, "Not that I would have known what to do if she had tried to fight me." An embarrassed glance is given K'del's way. After all, who admits that kind of thing in front of another guy! K'del's eyes grow wide at this mention of fighting in the galleries, clearly not an event he has heard about-- and not one he approves of, either. Turning his head, he gives Wakizian a long, appraising glance, and though he doesn't seem pleased by the explanation, he does seem more or less satisfied. "Sounds-- messy. At least it didn't turn into a real fight. We had one of those, once. One of the eggs was... hurt." The memory obviously doesn't please him. More levelly, however, is his added: "If you do Impress, you'll learn self-defense skills. They're... helpful." Wakizian's explanation fills in what blanks were left after queen's upset and Alida's apology. Azaylia certainly seems interested, "It sounds like you were more at fault than Hraedhyth thought." Just a fact, not that he had previously been painted in a particularly capable, or heroic light. He was just getting beat up on, don't you know? "Apology accepted." K'del's surprise surprises her right back, and while she's not close enough to lay a hand on his arm, her palm does slip in his direction atop the table. "Everything's fine." It's all been handled. "There shouldn't be anymore outbursts like that. I understand wanting to make friends, but everyone's different. Even if you aren't close, there should be respect." Wakizian's eyes widen between K'del's looks at him and Azaylia's words, his suddenly defensive tone indicating that he must have taken her words as some kind of attack, "It wasn't like I was forcing my company on her, or anything. Faranth. Maybe I'm the one that's got things all wrong after all since everyone I've talked to about this seems to think that either A. I like her as more than just a friend, which is ridiculous, or B. that I'm crazy for trying to make friends with a woman who just seems like she doesn't have much in the way of them and not letting her general sourpuss attitude drive me away faster than she from the queens that night." His hide gathering picks up in speed and focus. "Maybe I should get some lessons in self-defense sooner than if I Impress, since it seems like I get myself into situations where it would be helpful. Could you recommend a teacher?" The candidate's tone took on some annoyance with his expression of exasperation as explains others' perceptions of the situation between Alida and himself, and only when he finally asks a question does the tone become neutral. "Hey. Hey." K'del straightens, and his tone is definitely chiding. "Relax." His gaze bores in to Wakizian for some long seconds, and then abruptly eases, as he shakes his head. "Clearly, it was all a misunderstanding. But there's no need to be rude to the weyrwoman over it, okay?" Despite that, he does seem to have some sympathy, and seems thoughtful as he adds, "Once upon a time, the Weyrwoman would've been a good bet - Tiriana, I mean. In those days. Now..." He glances at Azaylia, thinking. "Hate to say it, but there's Taikrin, I guess. If she's not too busy. Or the Weyrlingmasters." "I didn't mean--" Azaylia goes from shocked to worried in an instant, hands quickly pulled back to rest on her lap beneath the table. "I didn't think either of those things." Okay, maybe a little of option B. Before the weyrwoman can apologize, K'del is there with a scold for the candidate. The goldrider decides to remain quiet for the most part in fear of causing anymore misunderstandings. Softly, carefully, "Taikrin had started lessons, a while ago. She's probably too busy now, but I'm sure something can be arranged." She tells the table, K'del, and perhaps Wakizian, though any glances aimed in his direction are bound to be concerned. The gaze that flutters to K'del during his rebuke is not entirely unlike that of a much younger boy being corrected, but it gets the job done. Wakizian's expression settles and he hunkers down in his chair. There's silence a moment before he looks to Azaylia, "My apologies, Weyrwoman. I meant no disrespect. You're just the third or fourth person to--" He trails off, probably recognizing soon enough that he's on his way for a foot-flavored mouth if he continues. "Nevermind. I'm sorry." He fidgets a bit in his chair and then looks to K'del, "Taikrin?" He hums thoughtfully, and nods at Azaylia's advice that the brownrider is probably busy these days. "I bet Alida'd probably be good at it too. Don't think she would if I asked. But maybe someone--" He looks between the two riders, "Might be willing to suggest it to her? Put her training to good use?" It's obvious that K'del is not thrilled at the idea of recommending Taikrin for anything, but he gives a little half nod, all the same... and seems relieved at this general acceptance that she's probably too busy. Safe. Keep her too busy. Even if... well. "If her skills," and he's probably talking about Alida, now, "are in that kind of area, it's not a bad idea. People like to be helpful, I find, in a strange situation." Evidently, he's pigeonholed the candidate without even having met her. He gives Azaylia a glance. "What do you think?" Azaylia looks so very uncomfortable. "Ah, it's... it's alright, Wakizian." She'll even brave a quiet, "I wasn't blaming you. Just trying to give advice." The subtle wince tells that she won't be trying that again, today. K'del's question has her head lifting, "I believe she's a guard. Or used to be, before becoming a candidate..." There's some hesitation, but the woman will ultimately agree. "I'll look into it. Maybe see if another rider can, uhm, supervise." Wakizian's reaction to Azaylia's reaction is telling. The man genuinely feels regret and he's got the already beating himself up brooding look going. "Well, thank you. Both of you. For your insights. And help." The candidate chews his lower lip, "I really do appreciate it." He isn't dismissing them by any means, but he seems not sure where to go from here, especially while he's busy internally wrist slapping himself. In silence, he proceeds to continue to pull the scrolls he had pulled out into the right categories (he really had pulled more than he could possibly have read even if he stayed all day). K'del's sympathy is now both increasingly obvious, and increasingly genuine, rather as though he's seeing something of himself in the Candidate; moreover, something that makes him uncomfortable. "You're most welcome," he says, firmly. "Better to ask these questions than not. It's such an uncertain time. You're doing fine, uh," a pause, "Wakizian. Honestly." To Azaylia, as he glances up, he adds a nod. "That sounds ideal. Optional, of course, but available for those who'd like to try their hand at it. Maybe talk to the Weyrlingmasters? Or someone like that. Someone responsible." Azaylia looks a touch tired, but is as pleasant as always. "You're very welcome." Right after K'del's, it has her looking his way with a faint smile of amusement. At least they aren't talking in unison. "Feel free to come and speak to me, if you find that you need to." The offer is to Wakizian as he turns, leaving the candidate to replace the records he's pulled out. "I'll see what Meara thinks. Or Quinlys. Some of these candidates are going to be their problem, soon." It's said somewhat fondly, if only because new weyrlings mean new dragonets. Wakizian's movements are concise, as though he has a good memory of exactly where the scrolls were pulled from (or can fake the confidence that he does?). Scrolls are quickly replaced, batch by batch and pile by pile. In between trips, he offers. "Thank you," to Azaylia's offer, "I'll probably take you up on that." When all things are put away where they belong, presumably, Wakizian's hands settle on the back of the chair and he looks between the riders. "I-- probably have duties I need to get to. I guess I can't avoid the weather forever. If you'll both excuse me, please?" He's asking of both, but for some reason K'del gets the brunt of expectation of permission. While Wakizian focuses on putting hides away, K'del chances a long glance in Azaylia's direction. If he's attempting to tell her something, though, it's less obvious: maybe it's just a glance. Except, of course, for his, "Good idea. It probably doesn't hurt them to get to know them, a bit. Work out where problems might be." When the Candidate returns, he hesitates, and then nods, studying him for some long seconds before he confirms, "Of course. Best of luck with everything, Wakizian. And if you have more questions..." It's a generous shrug of his shoulders. He's free. What else is he going to do with his time? K'del's long look leaves Azaylia somewhat lost, though there's a faint crease in her brow. What's she done? "There seem to be a few already." Problems, that is. "Oh. Oh, good." Once again the weyrwoman is surprised, this time pleasantly so at the prospect of speaking more with the candidate. She excuses him without much hesitation, though her words are soft and not terribly commanding. Wakizian has made a safe bet, in looking to K'del to be dismissed. Wakizian hesitates, looking at K'del for a long moment, his expression difficult to read. Then some decision seems to be made and he nods to the man. "Thank you, si-- ah, K'del. I'll think on it and let you know if I have any." He nods politely to both, pushes the chair he was occupying in, and covers the glow basket before making for the door. Smiling, K'del follows Wakizian's passage towards the door, and keeps his silence until the young man has quite disappeared. "Problems?" he wonders, then, glancing back at Azaylia. "Guess that's not surprising. There are always some." Beat. "You did well with him. You and I-- we make a good team, I think." His smile is encouraging-- genuinely warm. Azaylia waits until Wakizian leaves before letting out a soft sigh, dropping shoulders that hadn't looked tense until now. "Some get along better than others. And some... don't seem to like anyone." Not that she's speaking with authority, more of a wandering thought than anything. "I-- thank you." With a wide smile that still manages to be shy, "We do, don't we? It's nice." A moment to bask in the warmth of cooperation. Then, "I did want to look up a few things. Uhm, you're welcome to stay while I do?" But she understands if he has his own plans for the old hides. That sigh, those drooping shoulders, they seem to bother K'del, at least in the vaguest of senses, though it's obvious in nothing more than the line of his mouth. "That's... hard," he says, diplomatically. "I imagine... well, things are naturally tense at the moment. Factions. Guess that's true for candidates as well as the rest of us. Hopefully, they'll come together more, those who Impress. Twenty-four; that's a big group, so... we'll see." He seems pleased - more pleased - by her acknowledgement of their ability to work together, nodding effusively for her agreement. "I'll let you work. I just wanted to check some things out; I won't disturb you, promise. You've real work to do." Azaylia is slow to stand, and her smile doesn't waver. "Weyrlinghood will bring them together. Whoever they turn out to be." At least in this, she's able to be optimistic. "Real work." She repeats with a hint of a scold, but there's no denying the relief on her face when she mentions, "Just checking something for the lower caverns. You're welcome to disturb me." It sounds like a tease, but no doubt the weyrwoman means it. Collecting her cloak and folding it over one arm, she drifts towards those older records once more, this time not allowing herself to become distracted. "I'd never stand in the way of you doing the work you need to be doing," says K'del, with the air of a tease, and yet-- there's something defiantly serious about it, too. He stands, too, heading in a slightly different collection, to collect the tome he evidently came in here for. He glances in Azaylia's direction again, but doesn't actually bother her. Still, he seems thoughtful. |
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