Logs:Do Over
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| RL Date: 19 September, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Quint, Jocelyn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh meets Quint! Jocelyn is not impressed, a second time. |
| Where: Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 11, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Edyis/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions, Leova/Mentions, Aleigha/Mentions, Jounine/Mentions |
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| After days and days of rain, it's a pleasantly welcome clear day. It's probably why the inner caverns -- which has been quite full during the unpleasant weather, is largely empty this afternoon, other than those hurrying to or from some important task or other. Quint, however, stands out -- in the way that he stands still, leaning against the wall near but not at the chairs, striking in his Harper blue. Whenever anyone catches his eye, he straightens, offers a pleasant smile and waylays them for a momentary chat -- more than a few of the girls going away blushing and looking back over their shoulders -- though he's singularly non-specific in his attentions. Since it's just another day to some weyrfolk, nice weather or not, there's plenty for Farideh to do in the lower caverns, while that gold of hers continues to grow. She's in the midst of a trek through the caverns, carrying an assortment of rolled up papers and other things under one arm, and a small stack of hides in the other hand, when she spots the resplendent harper; her brow immediately furrows, though she doesn't stop, yet, even if her eyes never move from his face once they've found it. Past, and around the corner, but then she's coming back, staring at him harder, as she approaches, a question clearly written on her somewhat-pale face. Oh, undoubtedly, Quintus spots her -- it's hard not to notice when someone's staring at you so obviously. Her first pass earns a shadow of a bow, a hand pressed against his middle and a slight dip of his head. And then he's onto far more interesting things, like that laundress that passes by the other way, turning his head. And, amazingly, it's only quite belatedly -- when she's right there, that the Journeyman notes her return. "Ah, forgive me. You must be the junior weyrwoman Farideh, yes?" He offers a hand, along with an easy smile. "Journeyman Quintus, of Harper. You're on my list -- I'm glad you saved me the trouble." More impolite things have happened than a weyrwoman staring openly at a newly arrived crafter, and still, Farideh doesn't make any attempt to hide her thorough studying. "List?" is all she gets out of his words, a frown surfacing to match the furrow of her brow. "Journeyman Quintus-- I don't remember hearing about you," she says, glancing down only to shuffle around her belongings, like his name might be written on a paper there somewhere. "Did you just arrive?" When she glances up again, she takes in not only him, but the faces nearby, giving slight nods to inquisitive stares. "List," the Journeyman Harper repeats, expression non-judgemental, as if used to repeating things. Quint grins, now. "Oh, all the paperwork came ahead of me -- the Hall is very efficient. Your assistant headwoman -- Jocelyn? -- got me settled right in. Mm. Three days ago. Or four, if you want to get technical -- but I only started classes three days ago." He, too, notes the inquisitive stares, and each earns an affable grin, though his gaze inevitably returns to the goldrider, with a tilt of his head. Taking a step closer, he murmurs near inaudibly: "Are you well? Perhaps we can sit down," with a gesture towards the chairs. "Jocelyn is efficient." Between the information he provides and his offer to sit, a little bit of the goldrider's confusion is alleviated, though not completely; not enough to clear the creased forehead. "Of course," Farideh concedes, tipping her head towards him, "I'm all ears." That she lingers after that, could be put down to skepticism, but then she's walking towards the chairs he indicated, seemingly all too happy to set down her burdens for the moment and acquiesce to whatever discussion the harper finds necessary, for now. And the Harper, well-trained, doesn't seek to draw attention to the awkwardness of her lingering, his expression easy, matching his pace to hers once she starts to move. "Though not very, mm, loquacious," Quint says, of Jocelyn, with a grin. "Not that one has to be." It's subtle, that half-a-beat he waits, to sit after Farideh sits. "Perhaps you could assist me by, filling in the blanks, so to speak. Of course, I've read up on the history, but there's no accounting for being present. A new Weyrwoman, an old Weyrleader, and Igen goldriders aplenty. Near fit for a Harper's tale," he says, with an easy chuckle. "I think Jocelyn prefers action to words. Quite the opposite of a harper, but it's to our benefit that she does. She's excellent at her job," appears to be all he's going to get about the assistant headwoman. "Filling in the blanks? About High Reaches?" Both of Farideh's eyebrows lift, then. "If you've read a bit, then you likely know, I'm not from here. I don't know if I'm the one you want to ask about that, not when you can probably persuade someone with more turns and palatable information. I'd read," she notes, fingers knitting in her lap, "as much as I can, but there seems to be more than-- is written." Quint gives what seems to be an approving murmur to Farideh's loyal defense of Jocelyn, and certainly doesn't seem inclined to argue. Her questions earn a first, then a second nod. "Sometimes an outsider's perspective is just as useful as an insider's." His fingers tap against his knee, chuckling as he agrees: "Mm. It's the more than I'm interested in. Perhaps you can suggest some people I can talk with?" "Do you think? How so? They certainly aren't forthcoming about some things. I'll never understand the whole of what happened with the exiles," is honest, at least. "Have you spoken with the Weyrleader? I know he's only just returned, and he may be busy a while, but he's been around a long time. R'hin, too, the long ago-Weyrleader. Jounine, if she can spare the time. Leova? Or, that cook, Veris? Vernis-- I can never remember, but one of the cooks, tight-lipped as he is, is going on sixty-something, from what I hear, and he knows everything, they say." Farideh seems to be thawing, a bit, but curious. Quint's brows rise, in sudden, expressive surprise. "I'd have thought you'd be on the inside now. At least, as far as current events go." He purses his lips, thoughtful, at her mention of exiles, though doesn't linger on that. "Oh, the Weyrleader's on the list," the Harper assures her, "As is the Weyrwoman, and the Headwoman." He leans forward, however, as she provides names, nodding after each, giving the impression he's taking careful mental notes. "Ahh, very good. I'll make sure to seek them out." "One would think, but as you said, there are Igen goldriders aplenty," the weyrwoman tells him, tone casual, with a small smile that's not quite nice and not quite not nice. "I see you've got all your bases covered, then. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help." A pause, and a laugh, at herself, "You might try Edyis, too. She's a rider now, but she used to work in the records. I can't imagine she didn't spend her days absorbing whatever she could from whatever she could find." The Harper's easy noise of acknowledgement could be just that, and yet blue eyes flicker towards the junior, not missing the tone. Still, politeness dictates that Quint doesn't draw attention to it. "On the contrary, you've been of significant help. Now," he spreads his hands, palms upwards, towards her, "Is there anything I can assist you with, weyrwoman?" When she laughs, his brows go upwards. "Oh, records, I have covered." Still, another name onto the list. The weather outside is pleasant, and the caverns sparse. High Reaches' youngest goldrider and newest harper are having a, seemingly, innocuous chat between themselves, seated in chairs off to the side of one cavern. Again, there's an abrupt laugh, but this one is aimed at him. "I'm sorry-- assist me?" As suddenly as it's come, all amusement fades from Farideh's face and voice. "No." Simple. Quint doesn't appear terribly affronted, despite the laughter -- he's too well trained for that. Instead, his brows rise, hands dropping easily back onto his knees. "No?" he echoes Farideh, with a lilting query. "No trends of teaching or songs you want spread or quashed? I've heard plenty interesting ones, of late." Cradling a mug in one hand and gesturing broadly with the other as she talks, Jocelyn's striding from the direction of the living cavern in the company of a records assistant who's been delivering a fair number of notes to her lately. It's mostly a one-sided affair; the teen is silent as she hurries to keep up with the assistant headwoman, who seems to be full of short, rapid sentences judging by the speed of her speech. It cuts off rather abruptly as she catches sight of Quint and Farideh, and she waves the assistant off with a brief, "Good afternoon, " before beginning to resume her path toward the residential quarters, lips pursed. There's a polite nod and a hand raised in greeting for the weyrwoman as she nears the pair, along with a cool, "Harper, " for Quint. Really-- the higher raise of her eyebrows, the parted lips should convey. "I would love to hear what songs you've heard and find so interesting. I don't think-- I'm not aware that there is any issue with our current teaching methods, but then, I'm not one for the nursery-- Jocelyn." Farideh's lips curl into a smile, though her eyes are searching the other woman's face. "You've met Journeyman Quintus, correct?" "Well, you do have candidates incoming, do you not? It is typical in Weyrs -- others I've been in -- to wish to educate candidates on local history and affairs. Some, mm," Quint pauses, briefly, "Have specific information they wish imparted." Cool greeting from Jocelyn or not, Quint is effusive in turn, pushing immediately to his feet, grinning broadly at the assistant headwoman. "Ah, just the lovely woman we were praising earlier," or... something. "Join us, won't you?" he gestures towards, well, his seat, stepping away to make room. Jocelyn's mug is still quite warm, if the thin tendrils of steam curling from the top are anything to go by, but it's doing very little for her demeanor at the moment. Eyes more gray than blue with something rather akin to suspicion remain on that effusive journeyman, even as her own eyebrows lift slightly for Farideh's inquiry. "We've met." An almost-snort escapes her as she takes the offered seat, mouth twitching briefly. To Quint, "You blandish too much. I'm sure you've confused me with someone else." At least she's aware that her approach doesn't lend itself to a reputation for all things sweetness and light. Step one! "So you're finding everything alright thus far, I take it." "Oh, I couldn't possibly. Mm, no, no. You're definitely the woman that fairly rescused me from a deadly cold, not to mention wandering around uncertainly in the bowls of the Weyr for days." Although Quint might've possibly exaggerated that a little, but then, that's a Harper's job. Grinning now, he replies, "Indeed," with a lift of finger, "I've found the lavatories, the baths, and the classroom. Though everything else is a bit vague, still." He retreats to a further chair, leaving the one nearest to Farideh for Jocelyn to claim, whether she does or not. His brows twitch at Farideh's tones, hands lifting briefly as if to mollify her: "Not at all. But there's always room for improvement, no matter how well things might be going. I'll definitely be speaking to the Weyrwoman -- though I understand your gold flew, too?" "I did see him settled, " Jocelyn replies, expression smoothing into something more matter-of-fact as her attention shifts to Farideh from her seat next to the other woman. "I can't, however, take credit for being 'lovely.' You know how much watching people drip water all over the floors induces warm smiles from my quarter. He and his companions looked like drowned wherries in harper-blue." Almost an exaggeration. And while Quint's talking class curriculum and goldflights, the redhead observes from over the rim of her mug, taking sips of something that smells faintly of warm spices. The goldrider's eyes move, back and forth, flicking between harper and headwoman; intrigued. "Water on the floor-- that simply wouldn't do." Farideh's cants her head towards Quintus, her fingers unlinking long enough to settle on the separate arms of her chair. "Beyond your unsettling arrival, I do hope you're finding yourself comfortable," as, finally, good manners surface, and a bit better humor for all of Jocelyn's observations. "Roszadyth," she supplies, helpfully, "did rise, and she was caught by-- Lythronath. A bit of stock from everywhere-- but Lythronath, at least, has some of the High Reaches line, which I hear, has placated some." Then, her focus shifts back to Jocelyn; not suspicious at all. "The weather was no conducive to a more grand entrance, I'm afraid. Though, we could do a do-over. It seems quite fine today?" The Harper is probably joking, though Quint seems earnest enough, even leaning forward a little, easy smile in place as his attention shifts between his two companions. "Placated," the Harper echoes, as if that is the most intriguing comment of the lot. "Well, I imagine Weyrs feel protective of their bloodlines. Some definitely appear to show more tendencies than others, good or bad. I do look forward to seeing what the new lines bring." Jocelyn's mouth curves into a brief, not-quite-amused bow, accompanied by a glance for Quintus that's all skepticism. Dryly, "Jolly good fun for your apprentices, who I'm sure have been looking forward to an opportunity to re-enact hauling those trunks down that hallway." Her expression thins just-so for bloodlines and tendencies, but her subsequent, "Roszadyth did well, " is quiet and even. It's hard to tell if she's one who was placated or if she's being defensive in light of the harper's emphases. "Bloodlines are about as useful in dragons to Weyrs as Hold bloodlines are to Weyrs, or so I hear," Farideh replies, in an severe voice, while her fingers tap against the chair's arms. "However lovely it was," as she slides to the end of her seat, with the obvious intention of getting up, "I should go, before someone comes looking for me. It was nice to meet you, Journeyman Quintus, and I hope, you enjoy it here." Standing, she retrieves all of her odds and ends, and while it's not heavy, by the time she stands, arms full, her cheeks are pink. "Jocelyn," is filled with amusement, but also serves as a farewell since her hands are too full to wave. "It's called character building," Quint replies to Jocelyn with an unapologetic grin, "And as Harpers, they should appreciate the need for the flair for the dramatic." Those poor apprentices, indeed. It's be hard to ignore the tones in both women's voices at the mention of bloodlines, and his hands rise, placatingly: "I meant no offense by it, I hope you understand. And of course, one could only guess and what Roszadyth's offspring will be like. Perfectly health, and interesting, I am certain." When Farideh makes to stand, he's sliding immediate to his feet, making half-protesting noises. "It was a pleasure, weyrwoman. Thank you for indulging my curiosity." Jocelyn is quick to get to her feet in Farideh's wake between making good headway on draining what's left in that mug of hers. "On that point, harper Quintus, I think we can agree, " the headwoman's assistant allows; she's no opponent of character-building, for sure. There's a quick look for Roszadyth's rider at her name, then: "Let me help you with some of those." She's only the now-empty mug to carry after all, and surely they're headed in the same direction anyway, says that pointed glance. When they both rise, Farideh looks appropriately flustered, and her "no" is perhaps a bit too sharp, to Jocelyn. "It's fine. I'm just dropping these off with Aleigha and then I'm--" Her eyes flick to Quintus, and she replaces the words with a smile. "Don't worry about me. You should give our new journeyman a tour," pointed, "and he was looking for people to talk to, too. For history and things." That tone, wry as it is, holds a shade of her own opinion, but the smile flashes again, her head nodding once to them both. "Another time," and she's off, for somewhere else not here. If Quint is put out by being abandoned by both women at once, he certainly bares it well, although not without a pointed, "And a good afternoon to you do, Jocelyn," by way of farewell. Farideh's all-too-hasty amendment has him raising an eyebrow, though there's nothing by way of pressure in the Harper's easy gaze, allowing Jocelyn her escape if she wants it. "I'm hardly an authority on history, " Jocelyn excuses with a sniff, but returns the weyrwoman's nod as she departs. There's an almost-smile for Quint. "Try tracking down, " and she names one of the weyr's aunties best known for telling hours-long stories about the many loves of her life to any and all who'll listen. "She'll give you plenty of material. Good afternoon." And she, too, heads off through the passage. |
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