Logs:I.O.U.
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| RL Date: 2 August, 2016 |
| Who: Odrick, Tamsin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Odrick and Tamsin share misunderstandings and apologies. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, |
| When: Day 13, Month 6, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Clefin/Mentions, F'manis/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Sian/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Slightly backdated. |
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| She looks out of place, or rather, as out of place as anyone can look in a place as diverse as the Weyr. If one were to erase the surroundings of the inner caverns just after lunch, with its swells of activity and bouts of quiet, one might place her better in the pretty little sitting room of a Hold, holding a book or plying some ribbons onto a hat. Tamsin's dress is nice. It's not gather nice, but it's feminine and a little on the fanciful side, in a combination of coral and peach that hangs over her legs and has a feminine shape to its covering bust. Her dark eyes take in the comings and goings as she sits primly in a chair that's seen a fair share of use, the choice of seat only serving to make the woman look more out of place despite the way that her expression says she's entirely at home sitting here, sipping her tea. Holders are people with whom Odrick is rather familiar, and perhaps it's that vibe coming from Tamsin that attracts his attention toward her. Then again, it could just be that she's a pretty woman sitting out where people can see her. Either way, the harper is watching her watch the comings and goings from a short distance down the caverns. Tamsin might've gone on setting just there, only at some point she peeks into her cup and a fluttery sigh leaves her before she pushes herself up off the chair with her free hand and makes her way toward a pitcher on the waist-high shelf made for drink storage. Perhaps she brought it in anticipation of wanting more or maybe someone thought to make a communal pot and leave it for those with a thirst. It's on her way back from refreshing her cup that she espies the Harper and changes course, the dress' movement giving her a gracefulness that she might not truly own in trousers. "May I join you?" is friendly inquiry. Odrick continues watching her, academically shameless. He doesn't look away when she spies him; he's not embarrassed at having been caught. "Please do," is the harper's answer, given along with a friendly smile. "That's an eye-catching dress you have. It's very nice." His gaze is focused on it for a few more moments, then he remembers himself, and introduces, "Journeyman Harper Odrick." "Thank you," is probably both for his reception and the compliment to her attire. "More importantly, it's quite comfortable. If I thought it would suit your figure, I'd be glad to lend it, but-" Tamsin's gesture takes in the whole of him as if the rest should be obvious and sighs a little more dramatically than strictly necessary. Her dimples show when she smiles and offers her hand, "Well met, Journeyman, I'm Tamsin. Wingrider Tamsin if you'd prefer to be perfectly proper about it, though I find propriety often cumbersome in a Weyr, don't you?" All this in just two or three breaths as she's sitting down next to him, though she cheats her body to face him for ease of conversation. "Tamsin," repeats the harper, thoughtfully approving, and still smiling at her almost offer to lend him the dress. "I think perfectly proper would require a bit more information than that, but I'm perfectly fine with foregoing propriety," Odrick says, accepting her hand for a brief, friendly clasp. "I prefer to get to know people more personally than all that tends to encourage." "More," Tamsin pretends to be taken aback, her brows lifting quite high. "You mean like... Tamsin, daughter of Clefin and Sian of Briny Crag Hold in Tillek, lifemate of brown Tyth, wingrider in Taiga Wing at High Reaches Weyr. That sort of more?" There's something teasing in her smile as it ghosts back into being after her moment of pretended horror. "And what sort of more would you add to your title? Your specialty? Your parents? Your wife, children, notable accomplishments?" Paired with the on-going teasing is a shadow of genuine curiosity, something real in the look of her eyes over the edge of her teacup as it's brought to her lips. "That sort of more," Odrick agrees. "Although I'm not sure claiming your parents is necessary now." What with the dragon and all, teasing back. "I don't think there's much of interest there. I help teach the children. I enjoy it." Somewhat anticlimactic, perhaps, but he's kind of that sort of guy at the end of the day, isn't he? "Which wing is Taiga? The one with the crafters?" "No, probably not, but I'm sure they'd like me to and if it doesn't harm me to do so..." Tamsin grins and shrugs. "Perhaps they'll have an inexplicable moment of pleasure because I've done so. Who can say?" There are surely inexplicable things in the universe, after all. "If you're helping teach the children here, you might do well to learn which wing is which," the brownrider suggests, but it comes with a gentle smile. "After all, many of the wingriders are your pupil's parents. Taiga is F'manis' wing, though it might be more famous for K'del's long time role in it. There was a time when he was both Weyrleader and our wingsecond." There's some measure of good humor for that tidbit. "Tundra is the crafter wing." "I'm not here to teach them about the Weyr. I have no interest in teaching them about the Weyr, and the Weyr knows itself much better than I ever will. I teach them things they need to know no matter where they end up in their lives. Arithmetic, reading, writing, critical thinking." Odrick is eyeing the woman somewhat more curiously, though, like he's not sure what to make of her now. "So you'd like one of them to be able to make you look foolish if talk turns toward Weyr matters?" Tamsin seems to find this curious and she leans toward the harper, examining his face. "You have a love of teaching but not learning?" As she asks this, her curiosity is nearly palpable - avid even. "There's nothing that any of my students could say to make me feel foolish." And nothing she could say, either, judging by how Odrick seems baffled more than anything by her assumptions. "I assure you that children under ten don't often care about the intricacies of which wing does what and why. You were under ten at some point, yes?" "I was, but not here. I cared that my parents were from Briny Crag. That I was proud of them for being who they were. I can't imagine it's so different for the children here. They might not understand what it is their parents really do, beyond the care of their lifemate which is, by necessity often part of their lives, if the parent is raising the child, but children like to be able to say, 'My mother is so-and-so, she flies with Glacier.' Or whichever. In any case, I'm glad you like teaching them. It would be dreadful, I imagine, to hate it and have to." Tamsin sits back, eyeing him with some of that continued curiosity, but in a less pressing sort of manner. "A child doesn't need a harper to teach them which wing their parents fly in. But if you don't approve of the curriculum, I'd suggest you bring it up with someone more important than myself." Anyone, evidently, since Odrick is starting to rise to his feet now, reaching for the bag that had been leaning against the far side of his seat. "If you'll excuse me, I suppose I ought to go learn all about your wings now." She must have struck a nerve. He's almost certainly not going to go immediately learn about High Reaches' wings. "As if anyone would listen to me about something like that," Tamsin replies with a breezy sigh only to realize he's getting up to go and she's up onto her feet. "Oh, I'm sorry," and she does sound it. She's even reaching her free hand toward his forearm intending a light brush that might be meant to communicate the genuineness of that. "Please, Harper Odrick, don't go. I didn't mean-" She bites her lower lip a moment, cheeks flushing an embarrassed shade of pink (it nearly matches her dress!). "I really am sorry. I just-- I love my wing. I love what I do for a living. I guess it's-- I shouldn't have pushed you." She's risen to her tiptoes unconsciously for a moment before rocking back on her heels and twisting to put the cup down on a convenient table. "Can I make it up to you?" Odrick allows the contact, given that it's brief, but his expression is tense, unhappy. "I don't see how telling someone they're not doing a proper job, of which you have little professional knowledge, is supposed to be defended by suggesting that you simply love your job more than they do. Perhaps I should suggest that you teach your dragons everything a person ought to know and give them the chance to pick their own craft, rather than expecting them to do the work they do." For now, at least, he hasn't stormed off, even if he hasn't answered her last. "Not more," Tamsin's tone is still steeped in true contrition. "I never meant to imply that I loved my job more than you do yours." She draws a quick breath, "I was just trying to explain why I pushed. I shouldn't have," she reiterates that much, "but it seemed like the wings are interchangeable to you and being a part or Taiga- specifically Taiga- is so much a part of how I identify myself..." The brunette struggles to explain but doesn't give up. "It would be like me saying harpers who teach children are just the same as those who dedicate their lives to the drum." She bites her lower lip again, briefly, still looking apologetic. "Explaining isn't excusing it and I am sorry." The matter of dragons is left alone. "My not knowing the names of the wings by heart shouldn't imply that I think they're interchangeable. I wouldn't assume you're insulting my craft simply because you didn't realize I can't drum nearly as well as someone dedicated to them. I don't expect non-harpers to have a very nuanced knowledge of the Hall. And I certainly wouldn't want your Weyrlingmasters to come and teach it to our apprentices." Odrick, now that he's said what he needed to say, takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry for losing my temper. I'm sure the Weyr appreciates your... loyalty." Tamsin considers all of that, processing his words in silence. There's a slight press to her lips that might indicate disagreement with some of what's been expressed, but perhaps she appreciates the importance of needing to express it and for whatever reason, instead of voicing disagreement, she takes a moment to gather herself, rolling her shoulders into less of a hunch and standing like the lady she's probably supposed to be when she's wearing the sort of dress she is. "Can we start over then, do you think?" Since, presumably, they've accepted one another's apologies. Since she doesn't continue to disagree with him, Odrick doesn't continue to disagree with her. "That seems possible," he offers amiably, glancing back at the seat he'd vacated, then moving to sit down in it again. "Tell me about your wing?" It's an opportunity for her to explain to him just how deeply her identity is tied to Taiga. Tamsin hesitates, dark eyes searching his face. "Will you take an I.O.U.?" She asks, smile friendly. "Over drinks. Tyth is asking for an oiling and my wing is a topic I'd like to do justice to." "Oh," says Odrick, looking up at Tamsin now that he's sitting down and trying to get comfortable again. There's very brief confusion in his expression before it's schooled away. It's probably a handy technique for a teacher to have. "Yeah. Sure, that's fine. Another time, then." "I'll find you," Tamsin's words hold promise. The smile she tries is both friendly and perhaps meant to be reassuring. She makes little time of whisking up her cup and making her way to where she can deposit it to be cleaned before she's heading toward the nearest exit to the bowl. |
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