Logs:Luck and Sensibility
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| RL Date: 1 April, 2015 |
| Who: Azaylia, Faryn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A weyrwoman and a crafter talk luck and some sensible problem solving. |
| Where: Weyrleader Complex, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A sunny afternoon. |
| OOC Notes: Worth noting, this plan to take some of the carcasses eventually goes nowhere; no steak for you. Azaylia just wanted Faryn thinking about the solutions, so let her take that line and run with it a bit. |
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| It would be a waste to spend such a bright, sunny day in the council chambers, and so Azaylia has moved her meetings and paperwork out to her favorite nook. The alcove is often used as a waiting area when the Weyrwoman hasn't claimed it, like today. There's a small lull in her scheduled meetings to make time for lunch, empty tray tucked into a corner of the round table as Azaylia reviews some of her notes. Her white sundress is simple, possibly out of style, but a flattering cut and contrast to her sun-darkened complexion. Hraedhyth is nowhere near her ledge, which may offer some comfort to visitors. A day like this is a welcome one, especially if Faryn considers all the days she was stuck in a deluge. There can be no question of the herder's productivity, at least, and though she's a rare sight in the weyr complex, she appears anyways from the steps, a stack of hides in her hands, though she's probably not being appropriately wary of the weyrwoman's dragon; in that, it's lucky she's not there. At the very least, she spots Azaylia quickly, and announces her arrival with, "Excuse me. Weyrwoman?" Faryn holds up her hides. "I have some reports for you." Azaylia glances up from her work with a soft smile that widens once she recognizes Faryn. "Afternoon, apprentice." The glass of cold water she's sipping is placed aside, and she takes a quick peek at her schedule-- her next meeting isn't for a bit. Reaching over to accept the hides, the goldrider motions toward the other seat. "I'd like to hear about the state of the pens, if you have time?" Of course she must have heard of the damage by now, and there's another official report somewhere in her pile. Still, "I'd like your take on things." The usual order of things, so far, has been for her to drop her notes off and high-tail it. The first part's easy - Faryn surrenders her documents without any fight or need to add to what she's written - but the second part doesn't come so fast. She glances at the proffered seat, reluctant to take it on official business, and then takes it anyways. With her parcels taken, she has nothing to do with her hands; they fold, unfold, fold again. Eventually she settles with them folded. "It's in there," she says, gesturing, "but the flights aren't helping. The last one..." She grimaces at that. "At least the tanners got something out of it, but everything else was a mess. I would say I really hope we get more imported soon, but I don't want to be an alarmist." Azaylia is patient, waiting for either an excuse or for Faryn to comply. When she sits down, the Weyrwoman pours a second glass of water and slides it closer to the herder before looking over the documents. Mention of the last fight has her brows lowering, a soft hum dragging from her throat, not unlike a gentle growl. "We've a Fort dragon injured from that flight. He also seemed to have helped himself." The last holds obvious annoyance, though it's gone with a soft sigh. Looking up at Faryn, "I'm sure it's all in here, but... what would you suggest we do?" There's a light curl of her lips, genuinely curious. "That's unfortunate," is Faryn's polite and interested reply. One can almost see her making a mental note about it. A frown twists her mouth slightly as she watches Azaylia pore over the hides. "They can stop rising, for starters," she says, unreasonably, then, "But failing that, the dragons could at least start doing some of their hunting outside of the weyr. They can between, and hunt the wild herds. It's less strain on us, and maybe we could spare a beast or two for the kitchen." Which only solves half the problems. "As far as getting beasts here sooner, that's harder. I think we're all fine - discontent, but fine - with our take now. We're not obligate carnivores, and there's always tunnelsnake, which I hear is on the menu already, sometimes." The unreasonable reply is met with a quiet laugh, startled out of her reading as she looks back at Faryn, "I imagine some greenriders might appreciate that, but we have a lot of male dragons who wouldn't." As for the other option, the Weyrwoman gives a soft nod, "I'll talk to the Weyrleader about encouraging the dragons to hunt wild game. Though that raises other problems, as far as Weyr territories are concerned." She makes a small note in front of her, before continuing. "I've actually had some deliciously prepared tunnelsnake recently. Though, it doesn't sound like we're in desperate times just yet." She's taking Faryn's caution to heart, at least. "No, probably not," admits Faryn with a small smile. "Still. Do you know when we'll get the herds in? I know trekking them that far isn't easy, and certainly doesn't happen overnight, but it might be nice to have a timeline." She accepts the water that was pushed to her earlier and takes a sip. "I just worry about the frequency. And all of them blooding back to back like that. It's fool's waste." She hesitates, looking for some correction that is maybe not insulting, and seems to come up short. "Ah, I have that somewhere." Azaylia runs her fingers through the paperwork on the table, making a quiet sound of triumph as she finds the letter. "There are plans in motion, and the herds should be moving out soon if they haven't already. It could be up to another month." Not ideal, but nothing that shakes the calm from the goldrider's expression. Her dark gaze flicks back to Faryn, perhaps too quickly, "The frequency is a problem. Keeping dragons happy isn't." Voice is quiet but firm, "Happy and more importantly, healthy. That being said, I wonder if there's a use for blooded beasts for more than just their hides." "Yes, ma'am." She's about as contrite as she'll sound about it, when her job is harder for it. Of the carcasses she does not have an immediate response. She's chewing on her lip in consideration, her posture relaxing and her elbows on the table while she thinks, staring into her water glass. "If we got the carcasses early," she ventures, "we might be able to get meat off them. Though I don't know how happy people would be to hear they were eating it. We blood them anyways, when we slaughter; I just figure most people wouldn't want to go under flying dragons, in case of accidents." Her look to the other woman is seeking approval, or disapproval as the case may be. Then, apropos of nothing, "Do you miss it? Being a herder? Even if right now you're basically solving the same problems." "I was concerned about the meat going bad, myself." Azaylia considers Faryn's idea, not a new one but still one of the better options for now. "Having tainted food is worse than having a shortage of it." The goldrider descends into her own pensive silence, looking out at the bowl and in the direction of the feeding pens. "As for collecting the meat, a green and her rider could escort people into the pens once the dragons are up." A dragon that is not likely to join the chase. "That's something to ask your journeyman-- about using blooded meat." Another note is made, though Faryn's question catches her by surprise. "I... did, at first. But taking care of a dragon was good, hard work. Satisfying. It's not the same, but you can draw a few similarities." Azaylia's smile is bright, "I imagine if I hadn't impressed a queen, I'd probably still focus on the craft, along with being a rider." The smile shrinks as she thinks to add, "If they would've had me." "I know," Faryn acknowledges, "but, we blood them anyways. It can't be that much different, can it? Unless they can really make us sick? If we don't let the meat just fester, we could still get decent cuts from it. It could be worth a try, though maybe not right now. I can make a note. We can have someone volunteer. It would be worth knowing either way, yes?" Her question seems abrupt, and so her, "Sorry," is warranted, at least as far as she's concerned. "I've just been thinking." She doesn't seem to have much to volunteer, at first, still looking at her glass. "I guess there maybe isn't much else to do in an Interval, if you're a rider." Not quite a question, but still begging an answer. "Exactly." Azaylia is in agreement, "If we're quick, I don't see a problem. But I'm no Master Herder." Not quite sheepish, but humble, "I wasn't even a senior apprentice." She'd still like an expert to take a look at things, just to be sure. The apology earns a soft shake of her head, "No need. It's good that you're thinking. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders." The compliment is offered from behind her glass of water, the Weyrwoman taking a few sips. "There's no Thread to fight, no." Her glass is set down gently as she searches for Faryn's gaze, "We still protect Pern and the Holds Respond to emergencies. Search and rescue. Why, we even battle pirates." The last is as dry as Azaylia's gentle voice can manage. "And-- we have riders who still practice their crafts. I'd like to see more of that, myself." "I'll pass it along, then, and the report will be to you after the next flight." Faryn's quick on that, then; if there's a solution that means she might have a steak, she's on it. Her offer for more reports is perfunctory, though, and it's clear her questions are slightly less rhetorical now. "I hear dragons are jealous as all get-out. Healers are always important, and vintners can practice, but tending beasts. That takes time. Away from a dragon, if you have it." "Make sure to have copies for Jr. Weyrwoman Irianke as well as the Headwoman." A gentle reminder, although Azaylia seems otherwise pleased. On the subject of dragons, she can't help but grin, "Hraedhyth can be jealous, yes. I don't ride runners very often, but the few times I did she was mostly confused. She did make comments about its size and speed." It's typical for a rider to sound fond when speaking of their bond, but the Weyrwoman is practically glowing with adoration. "It isn't as if all dragons are the same, either. Where one might be jealous, another might not be." "Oh, of course," Faryn says absently, "Always. I only missed either of them once, trust me." Her attention is still on other things, though. "And...what about Igen?" That question is a bit heavier. "I'm - don't get me wrong, I know I could get transferred anyways, but it's always felt like there was some choice in the matter. Trading posts with another of rank or shortening them by switching halfway through. If-" she starts, then stops, rephrases, "That move seems like it wouldn't be anything but permanent." The Weyrwoman's brows lift when Igen is mentioned, slowly crossing her arms in order to lean onto the table. She still can't find the herder's eyes, "Faryn." Azaylia waits for her head to at least lift before continuing, "Is this because you're thinking about Standing for Niahvth's clutch?" It's obvious by now, but she'd still rather not assume. "I'd like to think that Igen would be looking for enthusiastic riders, first and foremost." Or at least one can hope. "There's no guarantee that you'd be transferred, should you Stand and Impress. But it is a possibility, yes." Calm gaze eases into more of a stare, watching Faryn. "Though, there is a gold egg on the sands." Yes, her eyes do rise slightly, but it's extremely plain that she would rather be looking at her water. Water's interesting. Fish have sex in it. "Quinlys asked me, yes," she says, "but I'm not sure. It's huge, and I'm mostly happy. Stressed, with the herds dwindling, but happy. I don't understand how everyone is willing to just say yes, so quickly, like they're not giving anything up. And Quinlys was asking people not to Stand, right before she asked me." There's a scoff, for that last. "I'm no goldrider," she says. "I ride runners, alright, and that's about it." Azaylia can't stifle her surprise quickly enough, "Quinlys?" It takes a blink or two before she's able to school her startled expression. "Still, that's good to hear. Searching people rather than-- yes, that." Trying to discourage folk. She leans back in her seat, lips curling into a soft smile as she nods, "You're right. It's a big decision. Life changing, if you Impress." Not very comforting, but it's the truth. "I asked to Stand, myself. It was silly of me. Stupid, actually. I went against my orders as an apprentice, just because I didn't want to leave High Reaches Weyr." Whatever nostalgia is there is squashed by hindsight, "If I hadn't impressed, I could've lost my knot." Azaylia gives a soft shake of her head, "I understand, not wanting to risk being taken from your home." "Me too," Faryn says. "If she hadn't looked so dour, I might have thought she was kidding. But I think you see what I'm getting at." At least she's not staring into her glass now. She's looking at Azaylia squarely. "Life changing either way," she observes, though it doesn't seem she's at any risk of going against orders. "If they asked me not to, I wouldn't. I don't think they would, though. Either way, there's always...not Impressing, and that might be worse." Her brows furrow in consideration. "How do you not get your hopes up out there, and if your dragon isn't there, you go back to doing whatever you were doing, with the knowledge that maybe you could have been a dragonrider?" She waves a dismissive hand. "I don't want to leave Reaches, but didn't want to leave Tillek, either. I don't want to be a pawn. And I really don't want to be disappointed." Defining herself by negatives, opposition, by 'no's. Quietly, she wants to know, "Do you think Hraedhyth would have gone between if you weren't there to Stand?" This calls for more water, and Azaylia refills her nearly empty glass as she listens to Faryn's concerns. Gently, "I wish I had an answer. I was lucky, and Impressed my first time." Lucky in several ways, as she's mentioned. "There are plenty of people who Stood multiple times. Some who have never Impressed at all. I'd suggest asking them?" The Weyrwoman can't help herself, reaching over to place a hand on Faryn's shoulder and offer a soft squeeze. "I know the agreement with Igen might seem strange. It's even political, yes. But the riders we send back, I wouldn't think of them as pawns." There's a sudden, quiet inhale for the unexpected thought of that small, angry gold hatchling going between. There's a moment of reassurance on both ends, and once Azaylia's eyes focus, "I don't know. I'd hope not." There's a downward tug of her lips, "Hraedhyth says she would, but..." A dragon's opinion is likely the most biased. "What matters is that she found me." With her talons. When she examines the weyrwoman, it's not as curious as it is looking for something, anything. What makes a person stand the first time and get their dragon? Where is the guarantee, the clue that says they are deserving? "Maybe I will. Can you think of anyone?" Faryn can't, but - well, it's worth asking. Not one to accept physical comfort well, the crafter finds herself stiffening slightly under Azaylia's hand before relaxing, sighing quietly. "What would you call them, then? They'll barely be old enough to go before they're transferred, whoever they are. That's...even the crafts wait, at least a while." It's Hraedhyth's answer, absent though she is, that sets the herder's jaw. She glances over her shoulder, not entirely certain she won't find the gold dragon there suddenly, but there's nothing yet. She turns a wry smile back. "And lucky she did. For both of you." It's easy, then, to be lucky. "Not off the top of my head, no. That information would be in the records." It's not exactly permission to go snooping about, but it'll give Faryn an idea where to start. "Oh. Actually I think Edyis has been a candidate before. She can be found in the records, sometimes." It all comes full circle. Azaylia doesn't seem bothered by Faryn's scrutiny, simply curious. She doesn't comment on it, or on the subject of those future transfers. Hraedhyth is nowhere in sight, certainly not behind the herder, waiting to pounce. Rather than a gold dragon, there is a figure heading straight for the stairs of the complex, scrolls and books balanced in his arms. With a quick glance at her schedule, "Ah, that'd be my next meeting." With a gentle smile, "I hope talking has helped, some?" As for business, "I'll look forward to seeing what the Herders think." Abruptly aware that she's overstayed, Faryn follows Azaylia's gaze towards the hide-bound figure and has the good grace to look at least a little chagrined for taking up the other woman's time. "Oh!" is her surprised response, and it doesn't seem to have crossed her mind that her friend would be on that particular shortlist. "Well. She's - I can find her, thanks." She's on her feet quickly, with a courteous nod as she pushes her chair into place. "I'm sorry to have taken up your time. Thank you, though. It helped. And I'll speak to the Journeymen as soon as I'm able." And again, since it probably can't be overstated, "Thanks. Have a good afternoon, ma'am." She's on her way, then, sliding by the man with the hides and making her way out of the complex. |
Comments
Laine (12:29, 5 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
I read OOC notes as "caresses" and thought something lewd was gonna go down in the log. Alas! But I really liked this scene (even though there were no caresses)~
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