Logs:Kismet
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| RL Date: 18 October, 2014 |
| Who: Ashe, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The day after the storm, life goes on, even for those in mourning. |
| Where: Rasavyth's Ledge and Artful Artifice Weyr (K'zin's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Guitera/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Slightly back-dated. |
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| Rasavyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr What a spectacular weyr! Its large ledge boasts a pair of perfect hollows, room enough for a pair of bronzes, and just inside the entrance are a series of shelves cut into the stone, ideal for displaying small knickknacks and keeping everything organized.
The massive heavy curtain that protects the wallows and the inner weyr from the worst of 'Reaches winter is drawn, but when the blue lands, the curtain shifts as though touched by the breeze, but from within. Someone's home. It doesn't take long, either, for K'zin to push the curtain aside at its bottom, exiting back first because he's up to the elbows in dragon oil, bare chested (in all his muscular glory!) despite the cold because what's the sense in dirtying a shirt? At least he's wearing pants. He turns, his arms held up like a trauma healer ready for surgery and finds the apprentice and her satchel, much to his visible surprise. "Ashe, hi...?" He's greeting her, but there's questions there. It's not that she's unwelcome exactly, just thoroughly unexpected. "Hi." The Ashe standing there now is not the Ashe from the records room weeks ago. Or was it months? She's a little uncertain, and certainly the events of of the preceding day have had their impact on a non-rider of the Weyr. But here she is with projects that won't wait and ideas to be had. Her fingers tighten about the strap of her satchel and she looks backwards and down, which turns out to be a big mistake, and results in her taking a few steps away from the ledge and looking at K'zin again. "This is a bad time, isn't it? I can come back. Are you...," Wait, what? "Are you greasy? Are you taking a bath in grease?" "I--" Wait, what?" "No." He looks at himself, "Oh," because when one has oiled a dragon as large as Rasavyth for as long as K'zin has, it just becomes normal to sometimes be slathered in oil, "Ras. I'm-- he's--" His brow furrows, wrinkles riddling his forehead. "It's cold out here," he's noticed. Could he not without a shirt? "Want to come inside?" This is apparently all the explanation and invitation the apprentice will get as he backs back through the curtain and vanishes from sight. On the other side, there are rags for K'zin to wipe his arms and chest. There is also a burnt cinnabar bronze curled in his couch, though slowly whirling and watchful eyes are waiting to inspect the newcomer should she choose to appear. Ashe's 'ech' sounds much more like what a confused and possibly exasperated grandmother would say, than the teenager she is. But she does follow, ducking past that curtain and letting it fall heavily behind her to keep the winter out. "I thought...," a throaty, self-deprecatingly laughter emits, "I thought it was some sort of... I mean, some odd sort of mourning ritual? Where you take a bath in bacon fat." The Weyr: a whole new interesting and strange world. The laugh subsides and she asks the requisite and not so innocuous, "How are you?" If she were the type, she'd toe scuff to accompany the awkwardness of that question and the entire situation, but as she's not, she simply looks awkwardly at Rasavayth with the whole aura of toe-scuffing about her. "I suppose it is, in a way." K'zin's got a laugh, but it's a brittle sort of thing. "It's for him. He likes it. Most dragons do. Well, many, anyway. Mine does." The bronzerider corrects himself a number of times as he finishes scrubbing the towel across him. It doesn't get rid of all of the oil, but most. The rest can just absorb itself into his skin. "Rasavyth, Ashe, Ashe, Rasavyth," he introduces briefly. "Ras cared about Iesaryth; he's having a-- well." No need to talk about that. "I'm alright." Then, "It's warmer inside," he gestures to the second great curtain that surely is the key to having a warm weyr here. "You didn't come up to check on me, did you?" He asks as he moves to hold open the curtain this time for her to precede him into the inner weyr. "If I said I did, would you believe me?" Ashe swings her satchel backwards so the bulk of it hides behind her rump. In spite of the seeming tease, the apprentice murmurs a properly somber, "I'm sorry for your loss though. The Weyr," as she walks past K'zin into the warmer inner weyr. "If I seem or sound awkward, and I feel it just oozing out of my pores right now like a bad night of drinking, it's not something... I don't think I ever learned how to... It's just not something that comes up off either at the Hall or back home. But I am sorry, if it has affected you and or your dragon. It's a terrible thing to lose a dragon, particularly a queen."
The exterior curtain shields the pair of dragon wallows from the elements, but it's really after the interior curtain set just behind them that things become more human-friendly. The entryway narrows to what would still be wide by people standards, but narrow enough to disabuse any dragon of the notion of trying to fit inside, then the cavern bubbles open into a fairly massive main cavern. Almost opposite the entrance is a pair of doors nearly side-by-side leading to back rooms, but in between there's space. Spacious might be an understatement here. To the right of the entrance the curved wall provides space for a very large table whose matching chairs can seat up to twelve. It's reminiscent of the council chambers, really, and the wall behind surely once had a mural of its own but is currently scrubbed clean of paint, waiting for inspiration, perhaps. A map of High Reaches sweep and the Weyr's badge get a close-up on a mural to the immediate left of the entrance. A broad hearth interrupts and separates the second half of the expansive curved wall from the first, and the latter shows the greatest display of artistry in a mural of a hazy night sky dotted with stars. Closer inspection might lead one to find that the stars might be used as hand-holds if one were inclined to climb.
"Well, I didn't, but I am concerned. It didn't even occur to me, down there, that this should be something to think of, but up here..." Ashe's smile is fleeting and apologetic, the awareness that she's committing a huge social faux pas transparent in her expressions. "I'll understand if you'd like to talk another day and if you needed a shoulder to cry on? Lighter chatter?" Now that K'zin is wearing something, Ashe looks a lot less discomforted, her eyes tracking back to find the bronzerider, and then taking in the rest of the weyr. "By the first egg," she exhales, spinning in a slow circle to take in just how large the space is. "How do you live with so much space? Doesn't it get lonely? If I yelled, will it echo?" Forgetting that this might not be the time or place to test such theories, in light of Iesaryth's passing, Ashe lets out a sudden yell and waits to see what she hears back. There's a slight echo back, and K'zin's lips have pulled and pressed into a close-lipped smile that might have been brighter another day. In answer to her, he ruminates aloud, "Thing is, if this weren't an Interval..." But it is. He shakes his head. "Life goes on." It has to, doesn't it? He doesn't sound like he's unaffected though. "You get used to the space. Not all weyrs are like this. We got lucky." He turns to watch her. "Like my stars?" He nods to the wall in question. Sure, they're not exact, but... look, stars! Ashe turns in place again and sighs appreciatively, whether for the space or the stars it's unclear until she remarks, "Polaris is just slightly out of place, but," a oh well shrug accompanies the sudden small smile to her lips. "Did you paint it yourself? Did it come like this? You could fit five of my rooms in here." Dark eyes drink in the room and its decoration, her gaze taking in the star studded wall more than once, but also her feet, once she's taken it all in twice, are quick to step around to investigate, though not touch, and end up bringing Ashe to the empty wall just beyond the large table. Silent, the young woman studies the emptiness before turning back to seek out K'zin, an unasked question bright in her eyes. "If it wasn't," K'zin answers, "You wouldn't be able to reach it when you climb." He turns, moving around the table to the cabinets behind it, "So you have a room," is conversational, but he grins, "Thanks, that helps." The great 'find where she sleeps' search, it's ongoing, though clearly not the top of his list just now. "I painted it, though I commissioned the sweep outline to make sure it was to scale. It's still not as thorough as the one in Jo's weyr, but then I don't spend the same kind of time on it as she does. Do you know Jo?" The bronzerider asks this as he produces a skin of wine and a pair of cups, in case she'd like one after all. It's a red, as can be seen when he pours. He looks to the wall she's stopped at. "My weyr stood vacant for nearly a turn while I was grounded in Telgar. My fans," he doesn't mean fans, "stopped by to show their love. I don't really want to pay to have a cartographer come back again so I'm still deciding what to do with it." "It may have been kismet that we've run into each other." Ashe murmurs, taking a step away from the blank wall to meet him at least two steps of the way and rescue a glass of wine from him. "I don't know Jo. I actually don't know many riders outside of you and a few others. Master Guitera keeps me busy and I have my journeyman project to work through." A smirk shades her face darker and pairs with a sudden head shake. "As if I'm promoteable, but a girl's got to dream, right? But you like maps, you have a wall of the sweep area and suddenly, I feel quite small compared to this vast room you alone inhabit." There might be the tiniest lilt of inquiry there. Maybe. "Kismet?" K'zin asks, perplexed, surrendering the wine. He might be good at math, but he really is a bronzerider of very little brain and his usual dragon dictionary can't find words to save his life just now, but can he really be blamed? He's in mourning. "Always good to have goals," the man can agree after a swallow of his wine. The slight tone of inquiry earns a chuckle. "It's taken time and marks to get this place the way I like it. There was, originally, a second bedroom, and I almost asked a friend to be roommates once, but-- better, I think, that we didn't. We had a falling out anyway, so." Just him. Him, and the walls, and the two rooms with their doors off to one side and all the very inviting throw rugs all over the cavernous space. "So are you finally going to tell me about your project? And maybe also what brought you up here to begin with?" Since they've established it wasn't to comfort him. "Fate. Karma. Some greater force out there that probably put you on those Sands to Impress that dragon of yours." There's earnestness masking the ridicule that undercurrents Ashe's elaboration of kismet, almost as if she's making fun of herself, or this entire explanation. "I need a rider who has a crafter's eye and you, my dear K'zin," she tips her wine glass to indicate him, in case he didn't know who K'zin was, and leans forward, if he doesn't move, to peck a kiss to the very tip of his nose pertly, "Are a rider, with a large dragon and a smith background. And I need smiths. Or, I guess Master Guitera does, but we've learned a smile and a pretty thing on two long legs might get us what we want more than a crotchety old man that yells all the time." Ashe inhales and exhales audibly. "I'd like to seek your assistance, and a wing, if... you might have one in your back pocket?" K'zin? Yes, yes, that is him. She's said so, which makes it his nose that she's just kissed. He didn't move because-- well, she probably wasn't going to hurt him. The kiss has him blinking rapidly a blush swelling to life in his dusky cheeks. He's going to need a bigger swallow of wine. Fortunately, he has it in hand, only he isn't smiling as he probably ought to be when a pretty girl he has a lot in common with does something like kiss his nose. His free hand rises to rub the back of his neck, looking a little awkward. "Ashe," that's her, "I--" Another swallow of his wine and a sigh, "I'd be glad to help." Not what he was supposed to be saying just then, but a moment of staring at his glass later, he says pretty blandly, "I don't really have a wing in my back pocket, but I could ask Quinlys about putting the senior weyrlings to it, unless you really need graduated riders? In any case, Quinlys might be able to help, depending on the timeframe with one class graduating in a couple months. She and her staff--" He stumbles a little over the next words, "Like my girlfriend, might be able to help out." There, he said it. Is everyone happy now? He doesn't look terribly so. If he looks awkward, she looks delighted and amused, the space between her eyes drawing together in that amusement as Ashe both watches and listens to his reactions to what she's said and, probably more likely, what she's done. The mention of a girlfriend doesn't appear to faze her, but she's stepping back again to consider the blank wall while sipping wine. "Senior weyrlings are probably cheaper to employ, particularly as what I am hoping for is mostly transport from the Weyr to a construction site." The apprentice shifts her bag back upfront with a hipswing and uses one hand to unlatch it and draw out a miniature version of sweep area maps. "Here," she points to a cluster of red dots at summits of high mountains and peaks of lower ones. "I want you to take me out to any one of these locations and come get me again after a few hours, unless you'd like to keep me company while I take down measurements and sketch." Actually; and her head tilts to indicate this sudden thought, "Actually, maybe it'd be better if I could hire you for a full day. I might need a set of wings to take me further than my legs and a good set of climbing gear could." That she doesn't appear fazed gives K'zin pause. Fortunately, there's wine to fill that space, though he sips now more than swallows. He shifts to look at the map, nodding. "I'm familiar with--" he gestures to the map. The sweep area. "Senior weyrlings might even be free labor if you pitch it to Quinlys as good practice for them." He reaches up to tug idly on his ear, brow slightly furrowed. "You'll still need climbing gear, depending on where you go. Dragons, especially bronzes, can only get so close to some places." He keeps his eyes on the map, "But you don't have to pay me if you'll let me bring someone or a couple someones along. Weyrlings, mostly. For the practice." And certainly not because being alone with Ashe might terrify him just a little. "But then I'd feel bad. My craft would insist." Ashe protests. Her hand reaches out to pat the dragonrider on his shoulder and doesn't slip away, sinking itself all camaraderie-like. She might just be terribly amused by this whole situation. "I'll speak to Master Guitera about having a formal contract drawn up." From the way she says it, it seems more formality of making it seem the Master does anything at all than reality. "And also approach Quinlys? Given it doesn't sound contracted, I'm going to assume female. About having some weyrlings assist with transport of personnel once I get the contracts going with the smiths, the woodcrafters, and..." she sidelongs K'zin a look, as close as she is, it does mean she has to lean back to get a better glimpse of his face. "Why don't you like H'vier? Is there anything I should know about him before I ask him for a, paid, favor?" "If you like. I don't hurt for marks." As might be told by the items in his weyr. K'zin grasps the topic of Quinlys eagerly though, that's safer. "Quinlys, yes. Female. About yay high," she's not that tall, he indicates, "Wiry redhead with a weyrlingmaster's knot." Then, curiously, because he can't help himself, "What are you going to build?" He takes another sip of wine before addressing her last question. "I like H'vier just fine. I can't help if the feeling isn't reciprocated." There's more to that story, obviously. "Though he does have a reputation when it comes to women, so just watch that you don't let yourself get into something you'd not want." If she'd want it, well, then, who's he to judge? A smile, smug with 'wouldn't you want to know'ness all over it, creeps onto Ashe's angular face. The wine is sipped some more, the young woman letting that silence stretch out and out, even as she starts to walk away from K'zin to the mural to the left of the entrance. She reaches out to indicate the areas marked on her maps on his wall: three points, spaced evenly along the western coastline, with one of them quite close to the Weyr itself. "We'd like to build western observatories, both to study the stars but also cloud patterns, weather patterns. There are some theories back at the Hall," nerds out the apprentice, "About how one thing causes chain reactions to others and why some turns it seems we have...," Ashe stops speaking and flushes. Her voice gets quieter. "Why some years we have more hurricanes and typhoons than other years." Well, he doesn't snap the glass or anything, so that's something, but when Ashe comes to the nature of the theories, K'zin does freeze. For a moment, his face shows plain enough the pain that's been caused him by recent events. After a moment he manages to nod. "I see." It's a dull response, far more so than what it might've been moments before. "I'd-- maybe not mention that part specifically, when you're fishing for help." Even that wording of his own makes him wince a little. He shifts to pull out a chair and flop into it. "Observatories," he musters, "sounds useful." For a starsmith. Ashe's cheeks are still pinkened at her slip and she suddenly finds both mural and her glass absolutely fascinating until what was in her glass is all gone. "So...," yeah. Awkward! "Eventually," she adds, the nerd in her unable to stop, "We want to be able to see if we can predict weather patterns." Her head ducks and she looks at red wine dregs at the bottom of her glass. Quieter and very apologetic, she utters, "I'm sorry. Truly." "It's an admiral goal," K'zin doesn't argue that. He lifts the skin in silent offer of a refill even as he shifts to top off his own glass. "It's just the timing. It might throw some people to be talking about it so-- clinically-" he decides is the right word, "So soon. A lot of people won't understand excitement for the project being separate and therefore not actually an affront to their misery." He leans back, slouching down a little in the chair to cast eyes to the ceiling. "Are you a good climber?" It's an abrupt topic change, but, well, it might be for the best. Ashe flushes even more, a slight head shake declining the refill. The young woman remains standing, arms about her waist in silence as he advises her. When she looks back at K'zin, there's gratefulness in her warm brown eyes for the topic change. "I'm an amateur at it, but I do find it enjoyable. Never something quite as steep as what's there, but how hard could it really be, right? Do you?" She drifts from the mural to where K'zin sits. "Have you ever been climbing in the ice before?" The bronzerider asks, sitting up with furrowed brow to look at the starcrafter with an expression that edges on some concern. "Or are you waiting 'til spring to survey everything?" In 'Reaches, it's probably more like summer before some of the peaks thaw (if then). "It's hard. And dangerous. Not impossible, but you don't want to do it alone, ever. They'd never find you before you freeze to death." It's a sober enough judgment on K'zin's part. Hopefully she can gather from that that, yes, he has experience. "Do you have a firelizard or anything like that?" This is why she's an apprentice and not a master or a journeyman even. The thoughts K'zin fills her head with are clearly things Ashe has never stopped to think of other than a protest of, "I was going to see if we could surveying in the early spring and build in the middle of the summer." But now that he mentions it... "I think I need another drink, and no, I don't have a firelizard. My parents are wealthy, but third rate holds don't rate firelizard eggs." K'zin shifts to reach for her glass so he can refill it for her. "Firelizards help if you ever fall down an ice trench, if they're trained, but even that takes time. And more effort than I have," certainly. A glance sweeps the room suddenly, as if one poorly trained blue might appear at any moment, but no, there is no sign of any that look to K'zin just now. It's not the ideal chaotic moment to be made worse. "Before you do surveying that way, I'd suggest getting some practice in. Want to show me what you've got on the wall?" He looks to the glass he's just refilled, "Well, maybe come back and show me. Then we can see about going out for some outdoors stuff. I have a friend that might like to go with us. Don't know that he's done much in the ice, but he might like to learn." He ruminates for some long moments on this point and something about it makes him drain his second glass as he thinks. "I think," Ashe downs the refill in a very straight shot, this ending up in a coughing fit and several thumps to her chest. "I think, maybe some other time. When we're both less flustered. My foot is already quite solidly in my mouth at this point and I might drown some of my own sorrows by taking advantage of yours right now. Besides," the girl smiles prettily at K'zin, "You have a girlfriend who might not appreciate my kisses to your nose." "Or anywhere else." Is K'zin's sigh a little too wistful for a man with a girlfriend? Probably, but he seems determined to be good. "Another time. There's--" he pauses to consider his glass, as if he might check his words with it for appropriateness, "--no reason we can't be friends." Right? Right. He's convincing himself of it anyway. "There's lots of space, and after the first time, you're welcome to come practice," he gestures to the wall. "Even when I'm not here." Maybe he doesn't have anything worth stealing. "Mmmhmm." Doing a glass of wine in one shot is a path that leads to poor decisions. Ashe puts the glass down, picks up her map, and stuffs it, crumpled, into her bag. "Friends. Right." Friends don't lean in and take advantage of him speaking and offering practice space to take a kiss. Literally, open mouth gets filled with a little bit of tongue, soft lips, and the taste of wine. Mmmmm. It's a soft sound that's barely above a whisper. "You probably don't feel comfortable taking me back down anymore, but could I trouble you to call for Hebrith and his rider, please? I promise I won't ever do that again, but I didn't want to drive myself crazy constantly wondering at night what it might be like. Now we both know." It's probably as much surprise as that he's had two glasses of wine in quick succession that prevent K'zin from putting a stop to things. Right? Right. He'll tell himself that later, anyway. Instead he kisses her back, because that's what you do when a pretty girl kisses you. His brain does catch up by the time that the kiss is ending though, "Shit," is probably not the sort of response a girl hopes for from the boy she just kissed. K'zin swallows hard, his face getting as red as it's apt to, looking up at the apprentice a little like he might be the wherry and she the dragon for all that he's older (wiser is probably not a claim he can truthfully make). He swallows again. "Yeah. I'll-- he's-- They're coming." Words, he's losing them and his eyes are going to his glass again, his empty glass. His empty glass that might need a refill in another moment here. "You have very nice lips." Ashe has to. She's that kind of girl to compliment things like that in awkward situations of her own making. "Now," she says a little too brightly, "We can be friends the next time we meet. Thank you. For the advice and agreeing to help." Awkward turtle trots awkwardly out to the outer weyr where the dragon is (still?) and then to the ledge to find Hebrith and his rider. Leaving K'zin to say quietly, in a way that might just be automatic, "You, too," before, yes, he must reach to pour another glass of wine. Surely now that she's going- going- gone- it's safe to get shitfaced? |
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