Logs:Don't Know Anything And Everything
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| RL Date: 13 June, 2012 |
| Who: K'del, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia tries to make up for lost time, and K'del gives her some advice. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 13, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, Lujayn/Mentions |
| 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 records room has been left to the mercy of some great beast, or at least that's what it may look like to those who enter. Sunset has come and gone, with the steady snowfall giving yet another reason for souls to stay inside and warm. There's a snort from that aforementioned beast, coarse brown fur shifting at one of the tables where several hides are scattered in some sort of order. Several pieces of parchment are also touched by the spilled black tendrils which spread out from the furry lump. Azaylia, in her big ol' coat, shifts once more before falling stil. The weyrling's face is hidden by musky sleeves and her hair- using whatever she had been reading as a pillow for who knows how long. One of the perks of Weyrleadership means K'del has more freedom to borrow volumes from the Records Room than mere mortals do. Now, he appears at the top of the staircase, a bundle of records in hand, though the sight of that sleeping Azaylia draws a hesitating pause. Careful steps carry him down to ground level; careful steps move him around Azaylia's table and towards the returns desk. It's only once he's set down his burden that he makes his way back, hovering behind the weyrling with one hand not too far above her shoulder, though it doesn't connect: he seems to be deliberating on whether to wake her or not. It's not a deep slumber, and the young weyrling hasn't gone down without a fight. That may explain the unrest Azaylia shows, shifting and drooping, head hanging much lower than her shoulders. The choice is no longer up to K'del when the young woman wakes with a start. She's not down for the count yet, grumbling something that sounds suspiciously like a swear while straightening up. A hand rubs at her neck as blurry eyes inspect the hide in front of her, wiping the corner with her thumb. Certainly not drool, no. That spot's always been there. With a sudden turn of her head, she finds K'del with wide eyes, surprised rather than terribly guilty. "Shells," says K'del, immediately - horrified and apologetic. "I'm sorry, Azaylia." He's dressed down, wearing an old shirt that's not in the pale shade of blue he generally favors, with trousers that don't quite fit right and fall too short around his dark boots. In his surprise, he takes a step back, nearly falling over the back of a chair at the nearby table, though his grasping hands make sure he doesn't, in the end. A moment later, he's adding, "You all right, there? Still not getting enough sleep?" Azaylia laughs, sounding as surprised as she looked moments ago. "What?" His oath and apology have her laughter continuing- until it's interrupted by a yawn. "Oh, don't." She playfully demands through squinting eyes and wide exhale. "Are you okay?" Concern successfully reigns in her sleep-deprived mirth, hand reaching up to rub at her eyes as she inches to sit sideways in her seat. "I thought I was okay on sleep." With a sheepish wrinkle of her nose, she realizes that may not have been the case. "Me?" The question seems to surprise K'del, who hesitates, frowning at Azaylia, for quite some time before replying. "I'm fine." He draws himself up against that chair he so-very-nearly tripped over, resting his rear on the back of it so that he can not-quite-stand and still converse with the weyrling. "It kind of - sneaks up on you, I guess. From memory. Guess it's been a while, for me." His tone is sheepish as he says that, and perhaps that's why he's so quick to ask, "What've you been working on in here?" There's a blink, expression shifting back to subtle shock at the frown on his face. Azaylia points, "W-well you got- the chair..?" She attempts to explain, sure that there's a misunderstanding to prompt such hesitation from the Weyrleader. She takes the time to run fingers through her hair, freeing the rest of it from the back of her heavy coat, "Uh huh. Surprised me." She'll agree, carefully now. His question has the weyrling glancing at the strewn records, head lowering as she brushes her finger along a worn hide's edge. "Uhm. Just reading." Any lingering glance will reveal the subjects to be from the history of various Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen, as well as any and all political events, down to readings on the minor holds nearby. K'del's "Oh," suggests he might have thought she was referring to something else, something less obvious. "Right." If he was, however, he's not going to refer to it now: instead, his shoulders shrug, as if to say 'well, I think I'm fine'. Given his height, it's not too difficult for him to see those hides, even with Azaylia's body in the way; his realization is audible, a low-toned 'ah' that isn't quite verbal. "Guess you wouldn't know all of that, not being around here. Need any help with it?" "I... didn't do so well on my exam." No shame in admitting it, just embarrassment for what it means. Given where Azaylia is, it shouldn't be too difficult to figure out which test she did so poorly on. "No, that's not..." Still talking to her feet, she gives a little shake of her head, "I don't know much about Keroon's history, either. I just don't... know anything." Not a dramatic cry, the words keeping to her usual gentle whisper. Straightening up, she doesn't ignore his offer. "There's so much here... I don't know where to start. What's important." Immediate sympathy floods K'del's expression, and his hands grip more tightly to the chair behind him. "Wish I'd managed to finish my-- you know, that's one of the good things, knowing I probably won't be Weyrleader much longer. Finally get the chance to finish my history." He gives Azaylia a thoughtful glance, and adds, "Easiest way is to look at it one Weyrwoman at a time. When did her reign start and end, who were her Weyrleaders, what notable events happened. There's-- hm. Got to be a primer to it all somewhere. That's how the kids learn, I bet." Azaylia runs a hand through her hair, tossing it to one side and out of the way so she can give K'del that obviously confused expression. "Why would you- How do you know that?" It's not speculation she can sense in his words, but confidence in the future. "Y-yes. Notable events." She latches onto that, tucking it away as her expression doesn't brighten with understanding. "I'll ask about the primer," Azaylia waves off her own situation with ease, crossing fur-encased arms on the back of her chair. "Nobody's kicking you out, are they?" Brows pinch together and lower just a bit, not even aware of that note of something accusatory. It takes K'del a moment to catch up to where the confusion is; when he gets there, he suddenly looks embarrassed, though his reply is firm enough. "Sorry; guess I forget everyone's not up on my thought processes. There's no way Ysavaeth will be the next to rise, and I don't think Cadejoth'll chase anyone but her, now." He seems philosophical enough about it, for all that he's hasty in adding, "Definitely not being kicked out, no. Promise - I'm not going anywhere. Could be turns away, too. Rielsath rose less than two turns ago, and in Interval, most of them only rise every three or four." For Cadejoth's loyalty there will be a coo, "He's such a sweetie. I hope Hraedhyth finds one like him." Azaylia may not quite understand her own lifemate's views on the matter, but babies tend not to think of such things. Then the realization visibly sets in, looking as if she's struck. "Oh. Oh. You... Oh K'del." The weyrling doesn't offer pity, instead it's a rare selfish streak that has her sad. "I hope it's turns and turns..." Hopeful, but not likely convinced. "There's no way to get Cadejoth to- no, no." She presses her cheek against her arm, drooping. "That'd be cruel." Or so she assumes. "Guess I thought you'd always be Weyrleader." Slow on the uptake, as always. K'del's awkward mouth twist must have something to do with the fact that, well, before Ysavaeth? Not so much for the loyalty, Cadejoth, even in all those turns with Iovniath. "Hope she does too," he says, all the same, aiming to sound cheerfully hopeful. "And you." All of that is pushed through despite Azaylia's so-obvious reaction, as though he's trying to bypass it. He can't avoid it forever, though, and gives her a wry smile in reply. "Guess I kind of did too. Kind of hard to think about someone else, messing up the way I do things, you know? But Rielsath, or whoever, I'm sure they'll pick the right person." 'Whoever' could be ominous, but he rushes past it, adding, "It really could be turns away. Not something to worry about now, I guess, not really." It's an odd expression Azaylia wears at being included as far as finding a good one like Cadejoth is concerned. "That's not important." It tips in favor of a humorous wince along with, perhaps misplaced, acceptance. She watches him, face smoothing as he speaks as the young woman wriggles in her seat for comfort. The coat does it's duty in keeping her warm, though it also hides a lot of her body language. "As long as... you're still here, after. That's what's important." She still doesn't seem so sure of this whoever that will try and replace K'del. "Uuuuuuh." Her head drops, forehead resting against her arms atop the chair's back. "This is the sort of stuff I'm supposed to know already. Everyone always has to tell me..." Another groan, this time sounding a touch hopeless. K'del doesn't press that first issue, not in the wake of that odd expression, but his gaze is lingering and thoughtful; it rather looks like there might be something he wants to say, for all that he doesn't. And the rest? "Not going anywhere, promise. You can't get rid of me that easily, Azaylia. Seriously, though - you're not supposed to know it. You're not going to be the only one who doesn't. Now's the time for learning, is all. Don't ever hesitate to ask the question if you're unsure, or... do the research, or whatever. Find out. Better to know than not." His gaze, now, is full of sympathy. "And don't let the whole... gold thing worry you, either. There's four of you, now: you can all help each other. Don't worry. Please." Azaylia laughs, if only at the tease that she'd ever try to get rid of the only Weyrleader she's known. The sound is short lived, but helps coax her from the cave of hair and furry sleeves that she's hidden away behind. "I bet the others know. Even Brieli." Other goldriders, then. Managing not to let her worry turn the words bitter, she exhales slowly, likely for the sake of the slumbering young queen. "I just don't want to be the worst. I... I will ask for help." She nods, "But I can't do it all the time. Other people don't have to. They're just... born smart. Or hatched knowing everything." A glance to the side, frustrated huff blowing a curl up, only for it to land in the same place. "What about Iolene?" counters K'del, after a moment's consideration. "She knew even less than you, when she Impressed. There's still a lot of things-- she's had to educate herself, is all. Bet she'll have a good idea of which things she thinks are worthwhile you knowing, too." Of Brieli, he can make no particular remark, except that, "No one's good at everything. Bet there are plenty of things you can do that Brieli can't. We don't want you all the same - we need you to have different skills. Everyone brings something else to the table." More softly, a moment later, is his added, "I thought I did know everything, when I was a weyrling. Made it worse, really." "Oh." Azaylia is reminded all to easily, "I... she's just kind of like Lujayn." In the way that the weyrling thinks of her, of course. "I kind of forget she's from the Island. Until someone brings it up." Protective purse of her lips is gone quickly enough, replaced by an embarrassed avoidance of his gaze. "I didn't mean anyone, really." Though when she does find K'del's face, it's with a little smile and lifted brows, "And, you'd be surprised. Brieli's pretty great at everything." No jealousy there, just honest belief. The curl to her lips is easy to temper, but not quite gone, "Do you think you know everything now?" K'del's reply is a quiet one, complete with a quirked smile. "Believe me, you know a lot more than Iolene did. You'll be fine." One hand lifts from the chair he's leaning against to run through those fair curls of his, twisting fingers through the thick locks; again, he's aiming for reassuring with that expression. "She's not perfect, though. We've all got our blind-spots, our weaknesses. Even when they're not immediately obvious." He doesn't, however, offer any examples. "No. Now... I know I don't know everything. It's better that way. Open to learning new things every day. But at fifteen... not so much." "I know I don't know everything, either." Azaylia takes comfort in that, agreeing with him in a whispered echo. "I really should talk to Io. And Lujayn." She includes, though isn't as familiar with the active Weyrwoman. Optimism is never far, even when frustration still cloud's the young woman's eyes. "I guess it's good I did so bad on the test. I never would've come here to try and catch up..." Faltering, she gives a sigh and simply smiles, at a loss. What is she going to do with herself? It's what's clearly written on her face. "Primer." Azaylia repeats from earlier, "I'll start with that." Determined, at least while Hraedhyth is still lost in sleep. "You should," agrees K'del, apparently relieved by Azaylia's optimism, despite the frustration. "You're going to do beautifully, Azaylia; got loads of faith in you. She chose well." He draws himself up off the back of that chair, now, indicating a far shelf with one hand so that he can say, "There might be so old teaching tools over there. Might be something worth looking at?" But K'del himself, is about to head off, apparently, because, "I need to get back. Promised Iolene-- well. Long story. You'll look after yourself? And ask, if you need anything?" Words meant to comfort manage the task, though not without heaping an equivalent amount of pressure on Azaylia. It's bitten back in a lip-chew, "Thank you, K'del. It means a lot, coming from you." She rises, shrugging off the heavy coat and placing it on the back of her chair. Staking her claim. "Over..? Oh, I see." At the mention of Iolene, the smile widens just a touch and she gives a knowing hum. "Okay." Almost teasing, if one can believe it, coming from Azaylia. "I will." She'll near the Weyrleader, slowing before she thinks better of keeping him and passes towards the shelves. "Take care of yourself, kay?" She offers over her shoulder, perhaps a bit somber. "And I'm sorry. About what happened to your weyr." Because he'll be leaving, and taking the awkwardness with him. There's no blush, no awkwardness, no hesitation, at her hum over Iolene; K'del just grins, cheerfully content. He turns to go, but mention of his weyr draws a momentary pause. "It was just stuff," he tells her, quietly, as though none of it mattered whatsoever. "But thank you." Then he's off up the stairs again, quickly out of sight. "'night, Azaylia. Don't work too hard." } |
Comments
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Thu, 14 Jun 2012 21:53:27 GMT.
I like this idea that I am flawless. Let's keep it up.
In other news, poor Azaylia. :( And she's not even been clued in to the Weyrwoman thing. That's gonna be a kick in the pants.
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