Logs:Of Offers and Understandings
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| RL Date: 19 September, 2006 |
| Who: Jendayi, R'hin, Vertai |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 1, Month 3, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 18:08 on day 1, month 3, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring evening. You stroll up the stairs to the residents' quarters. Common Room(#868RJLs) This small cavern has the crisp smells of a recent cleaning, mingled with its more usual smells of klah, woodsmoke, and people. Baskets of glows are scattered about the room, lighting up dark corners and generally providing a cozy atmosphere. Several chairs sit at a large, round table, and more chairs are against the walls, waiting for use. A large, soft fur is spread out in front of a small stone hearth which keeps the cavern warm for its occupants. Views: South Wing East Wing Balcony Contents: Jendayi Obvious exits: Headwoman's Office Steward's Office Children's Wing DORmitory Lower Caverns Vertai wanders in from the dormitory. Vertai has arrived. Often a place of tumult, this little chamber quiets at the dinner hour, when the locals leave to fetch in their meals in the great living cavern. Only a few of the Weyr's residents are here-- two girls playing cat's cradle on the rug before the hearth, an older drudge resting his bones in a chair along the far wall, one or two drowsy folk passing from the dormitory to the tunnels beyond. Vertai reclines in a deep chair to one side of the fireplace; his cheek and the bridge of his nose are lit to the hue of caramel by the flickering flames, but his eyes rest in shadow save for a subtle glimmer of gold. Such is his glimmering raiment that he's clearly here to be seen rather than to see, and the distance of his expression shows it. The man's only movement is that of a thumb, idly swirling the gossamer fabric over Jendayi's knee where she sits beside him. R'hin swooshes in from the lower caverns. It's not the normal sort of thing for him, but the loose nature of the Dijilia's clothing brings with it an inherent whisper of material as he walks. His gaze sweeps across the room, taking note of the occupants before settling on the pair of Dijilia traders, their garb making them stand out pretty easily. His path alters to head directly towards them, curve of lips bespeaking an intrigued smile as he greets the pair, "A fine evening for a drink with our visiting traders." A beat, as he pauses. "Ah," he clicks his fingers as if in sudden remembrance, eyes settling on Jendayi, "I forgot to bring your bottle of white. I left it up in my weyr - I'll have to bring it by another time." Judging by the teasing glint of pale blue eyes, the forgetfulness was deliberate. "And you," eyes trail over Vertai in obvious scrutiny, "Must surely be Vertai." The girl is as close to pensive as she is likely to ever become, lips holding only a slight curve now as she studies a wineglass held clasped in the cup of her palm. Her hand moves at the wrist to turn the faintly green goblet this way and that to watch the firelight fracture inside of the bowl. The glass' matches rest on the low table before the couple, ignored, as are the fingers coursing over her sisal-draped knee. "You could pretend to smile," Jendayi says eventually to break the silence between the pair of them, she and Vertai, but further comment is prevented by R'hin's arrival. The trader lass, to put it simply, seems to come to life when the bronzerider steps near. "There you are! Looking handsome as ever...ah, no wine? A shame...Tai, this is R'hin." Vertai glances up at the bronzerider's snap. Eyes of bronze flash over the other man's empty hands. "A strange thing to come drinking with nothing to drink," he observes, pleasantly enough. He's composing a smile of his own, slowly, building it from the requisite pieces. "Perhaps that's a Reachian custom." Once his teeth are set, the trader lifts his gaze to R'hin's in greeting. "I am indeed. And you are..." He trails off, momentarily puzzled. "Jen, is this the gloomy one or the shameless flirt?" That smile brightens, just a tad. "I'm guessing the latter. Please, sit. We'll pretend to have wine together." "No doubt helped immensely by your own garb," R'hin adds wryly, of Jendayi compliment, but he seems pleased nonetheless, fingers smoothing down over the blue-green material. "As for the wine, well - it is vintage, best left for a special occasion, not that meeting me couldn't be counted amongst such occasions." The self-important bluster seems just that - bluster, but deliberate; demeanor is easy as eyes trail from Jendayi to his companion again, his smile built to match the other's. "A strange thing. But then, given you were the ones that invited me, I thought perhaps you would play host?" His head tips querying, "At least, that's how things worked when I was a trader. Times have changed, perhaps?" A beat, then, "The lack of wine can be fixed, if you wish it. Easy enough to secure a bottle from those provided for dinner." He doesn't sit, just yet, waiting for a response to the offer. "Better that we have no wine tonight. Who knows what someone might say, if our tongues were loosened?" Jendayi leans forward, placing the goblet beside the others- a signal that the invitation stands as made by Vertai. "R'hin was the charming rider, Tai, not the gloomy one or the strange fellow with the instrument," she says while straightening, a deeper smile lending highlights to eyes made liquid black by the fickle light. It's directed first at the man beside her and then the one before. "Please sit, R'hin. This isn't so special an occasion that we need to all be on pins and needles. Let's aim for...congenial? Tai?" This suggestion comes a beat after her hand extends to settle over the other trader's, fingers pressing it in seeming reassurance. Or pleading. "I was expecting you to bring me my bottle, R'hin," Vertai explains with a note of apology. "Part of the price for that stunning ensemble, yes? I'm sorry for the oversight." The trader's eyes fall with evident appreciation to the peacock swirl of blues and greens. "I thought I'd share it with you in honor of the sale. Still in all, it's better this way; if it's vintage, as you say, I'll keep it sealed and add it to our stock for resale. It'll fetch a mark or three, I imagine. Bring it by whenever you like." The young man's smile acquires a razor's touch of maganimity, and he gestures with his free hand to a nearby chair. "Pull up, man, sit. Your heels will ache if you're forever standing. You've been on the road in your time, you say?" Of the feminine grasp in his lap, he registers only the gentlest press in return. It isn't especially heartening. R'hin's eyes linger on Vertai, as if getting a measure of the man's reaction, before a brief tip of head is given in unspoken acknowledgement of Jendayi's words, and he sinks into the indicated chair. The firelight plays against the brilliant colors of his garb, making him seem at a casual glance a part of a trio. "The gloomy one," he echoes with a certain amount of amusement, and a lilt of a question. "Part of the price," he answers Vertai smoothly, "Which will be delivered, you've no fear of that. As for the rest--" He reaches beneath the tunic, unhooking a small beltpouch, and leans to deposit it on the table nearer him. "Resale?" he echoes, with some measure of dissatisfaction. "My apologies, Vertai. I'd thought perhaps you were the sort to enjoy the finer things in life," his eyes, by no coincidence, fall on that curve of Jendayi's hand on her partners. Perhaps Jendayi will come to regret being agreeable about the lack of wine. There are some feathers that only spirits can soothe. But for now, her smile is fixed and her gaze steady, resolve settled on making this evening as pleasant as can be managed. So first, the matter of comfort- her hand is extricated from Vertai's, after that exchange of squeezes, and one foot lifted to tuck beneath the opposite thigh, knee bent out at an angle. Her skirt is rumpled by this shift, and she smooths it idly down while her eyes skim from one man to the other. "The gloomy one was M'wen, who has decided to hate me for trying to sell him good cheer rather than talk about the weather," she puts in brightly. Something more serious is attempted as the wine is proven a difficult subject to leave behind. "We need to replenish our stock and build some capital, as it seems we will soon be working Turn-round, rather than just the warmer months. Vintage wine is the sort of thing we prefer to offer our customers." Vertai nods along with Jendayi's explanation, watching the bronzerider into his seat. "Not having the luxury of a tithe," he adds, "we must always be mindful of our outlays. Not a glamorous life, as you'll recall." There's a flicker of amusement at R'hin's little jab-- a brief light behind the amber of his eyes, like a star falling across a misted sky. "I'm content with the few pearls I do enjoy." The trader glances aside then, holding the lass' profile, her burnished tresses, in silent study-- perhaps he's considering her last statement. "And as Jen says, we may come into an unexpected method of profit, soon." Gently spoken, these last words are nonetheless clipped at the ends, as if he'd like to speak them through his teeth but chooses not to. Then the man's gaze wanders to the pouch on the table, and his smile creeps back, lazily. "I'll do you the courtesy of not counting that. A bargain struck, bronzerider." "M'wen," R'hin echoes, with distinct amusement, and a differing of tone - mild reproof, perhaps. "Is a good man, and probably more gloomy for my company than anything, so you oughtn't hold it against him." His hand rests along the length of the chair's arm, fingers tapping briefly, head tilted down as if in momentary contemplation. "In any case, to answer your query of earlier, I have indeed, spend some time on the road, with the Beowins. A harsh wagonmaster, is Garain, and not my biggest fan, but you can't fault his eye for a good bargain." A brief tip of head seems to concede the point, though his eyes linger on Vertai, noting his study of Jendayi with a curve of lips that lingers throughout his next words: "Unexpected?" he echoes, a prompt for more information, the remark of a bargain earning a flash of indulgence. "As you like, trader." The matter of M'wen is dismissed with a flick of Jendayi's fingers. The absent rider has been weighed, judged and dismissed just as quickly as that gesture, it says, and she won't speak of him again. Her smile remains though, full of a subtle amusement, humor touched with shadows. "Unexpected as in we had not expected Josilina herself to offer us the services of the wings to conduct our business," she explains, with nary a look at Vertai. His study of her goes unobserved. "She strikes me as a woman who appreciates good honest work, from those who walk our road." The hand she'd gestured with now lifts to graze her chin, fingertips tapping an absent rhythm against that protuberance. "Garain...was he blood to you?" "It was quite a windfall for us," Vertai concurs, with every sign of enthusiasm-- energy of voice, a steady eye, brightness of smile. He doesn't miss one. "Jen's innovation will earn us a pretty purse to show when we return to the caravan this summer." And then, despite his evident good cheer, the young man finds something worthy of study in the flickering flames, and his lips falter just a bit. "We'll contract with dragonriders to carry our stock while the weather's poor," he explains. Of the Beowin he says nothing; the name summons no change of feature. Surprise suffuses the bronzerider's expression, a flicker of brows, a shifting of his weight, flowing quickly into musing consideration. "Did she, indeed?" The news, it seems, is unexpected to R'hin as it was for the traders, lips pursing briefly. Jendayi's comment of Josilina goes pointedly unremarked on; the slightest shake of head negating the trader's next question. "Not blood." A beat or two, as eyes drift from Jendayi to Vertai, and back. "So, with Thread gone for the next two hundred or more Turns, you would give dragonriders a new purpose of, what-- being a beast of burden?" The query, while accusatory in an of itself, is accompanied by an odd tone that is less so: intent, querying, pointed. The former trader leans forward a little, brows flickering upwards. Vertai's brief show of happiness finally earns him the prize of Jendayi's gaze, and for a moment the girl seems inclined to be pleased. Her smile shows her teeth this time while her hand creeps back to cover his. The pause between his first statement and the next don't draw much interest, for R'hin draws her focus away a few seconds later with fresh questions. "Partners, actually. Oxen are not typically paid a share of the profits, nor do they often have need of them when Holders begin to fall short in their commitments. But we don't expect everyone to recognize the opportunity for what it is," she says, with a gentleness of tone that almost covers her own enthusiasm for the plan. "If an arrangement is beneficial...profitable...for all concerned, why quibble over semantics? We would simply offer riders an alternative method of income. One of many, maybe, if they're inclined to look beyond stone and sky." Vertai had found some solace in the flames, their dance echoed in the flare and shadow of eyes that throw back that light like battered bronze. Jendayi's touch rouses him, and as his thumb brushes hers, he looks up to give her a frail smile in return-- genuine enough despite its pallor. "It's a fine idea and to everyone's benefit," he concedes. Reluctantly? "Our wagon can't traverse the passes this time of year; most dragonriders need do nothing but wait to die. Present company excepted, R'hin; /your/ beast may be put to stud." If this last is an insult, there's nothing of it in the matter-of-fact look he turns on the other man. Business, business. "Why not take advantage of a dragon's unique talents?" The slight curl of lips indicates amusement, rather than any ire on R'hin's part, the familiarity of Vertai's words earning a low-voiced chuckle. "Tradition," and there's a faint note of derision there, "Has, and will be the backbone of many rider's lives. You see profit. You see advantage. A rider of some Turns, who has faced Thread, will see disrespect, contempt for the role dragons play on Pern. It is a Tradition, that is even now, taught to the newest of riders." There's a flash of something in pale eyes, irritation, well-heeled, and gone an instant later. A beat later he waves his hand, voice low as he notes, "You will need to take care, Dijilia, who you make such offers to, for you will just as likely face hindrance as help... unless, of course, you know who would be receptive to such... ideas." "Pft, tradition." Jendayi is well-practiced at dismissing both people and concepts. This one lasts only until she bats her eyes and tosses her ample chin, sending it off into the shadows. "We make our own roads now. Our own roles. There will be riders who'll want to do the same, now that they *have* no role." Her smile has found the strength that Vertai's had lost, slipping on and on towards an almost-grin at the words of warning from the bronzerider. "You see, Tai? I told you he was a good man to know," she says, lifting the trader's hand from his knee before thumping it back into place- she moves, when delighted, and is shifting now even after that display, both feet to the floor again, inclining forward towards their "guest". "If you thought I might run yelling through the bowl, tossing invitations to any who chanced to be around, you would be wrong, rider." That captured hand might be a knot of deadwood for all the verve it displays, rising and falling. "You do have an eye for able hands, Jen," Vertai muses drily, observing its course. But if the trader can't share his partner's enthusiasm, it isn't /entirely/ for lack of trying; her smile seems infectious to him, and has his stubbled lips curved despite himself. From her grasp back to the bronzerider's expression, perhaps more pensive than the girl at his side. "You seem the sort to take a clear-eyed view of things, R'hin. You think for yourself, as a man of industry should." Trim shoulders lift, then settle with a steadying breath while he composes the next. "Are you suggesting yourself as an agent? You know these people as we do not." R'hin's gaze shifts to Jendayi, lingering on the brightly clad woman, tone mild, "I hardly know you well enough to claim otherwise, Dijilia, and you did say you were no diplomat." His fingers clasp together in front of him, his voice still low, but more intent now, fuelled by belief in a topic that has already been well contemplated. "You dismiss tradition so easily, yet for those of us bound within it, it is not so easily done. You cannot alter the course of the ship by a snap of your fingers. More believe in and respect the traditions of thousands of Turns, than believe change will be the -only- way to prevent another massing of Holders at our gates in two hundred Turns." His hands lift, palm upwards, as if to indicate a balancing scale that heavily favors tradition. The hands spread a moment later, curl of lips given at Vertai's bold query, "I suggest nothing, Dijilia, for such a person would mark themselves as a revolutionary. Perhaps, however, I can make queries on your behalf, as a show of good hospitality." Jendayi's feathery brows lift at R'hin's response- it is plain the girl doesn't see the matter in the same light, else she wouldn't say what she does next. "Why can't I?" It isn't a challenge, or a tease, but a simple expression of curiosity. Indeed, why can't she? "It *is* that simple, R'hin. We will travel to Weyrs and Holds, on dragonback. We will arrive in a twinkling, sell our wares, divide the profits and be back before supper with heavy purses and satisfied hearts. No wheel turns without all of its spokes...the riders need but fit themselves into new wheels. *Our* wheels." The girl, so comfortable in her friendly arrogance, smiles as if the matter were settled, sharing a glance with Vertai that is more strongly touched by amusement. "And I said I was Jendayi, you will recall. I am *many* things...not all of us believe in specializing ourselves into a corner." Vertai sits silently, thin-lipped, glancing between the pair while they converse. That silence lingers for a moment afterwards, and behind the young man's eyes there's a molten rush of opinions left unvoiced. At last, carefully, he settles on, "R'hin makes a fair point even so. When a people have outlived their usefulness, and their children's children will find the same, it's no easy thing to come to terms with." And that appears to be all he'll say on that subject. His smile returns-- urbane, crafted-- and he dips his chin towards the other man, setting the chromatic tangle of his beads asway. "We'll be careful. If you happen to talk to anyone who might see the good in such an arrangement, we'd be thankful if you pointed them our way." "And who are you, Jendayi of the Dijilia, to decide that all riders should conform to your particular idea of the world? Do you ride the senior queen? Are you a Lady Holder of standing?" R'hin pauses but a beat, clear he requires no answer, "Do you intend that riders would give up what little time they have between their duties, and taking care of their dragon, to cart you and yours around Pern, wait while you do what you do, then find time to do whatever their heart desires? You've little conception of the trivialities that a rider must undertake... by tradition. A trader's life is his -life-, it's what he does. A rider's life - their first priority, is their dragon. That is, and always will be, regardless of what changes the future may bring." He plays devil's advocate to the hilt, aggressive and forthright, though the slight curl of lips and warming of smile precedes the eventual concession, "To undertake what you suggest, a rider would need to shed his wing duties entirely." A tip of head is given to Vertai, and there's something respectful in the gesture - acknowledgement of his observation. "Yes. He would." To all of that, Jen makes only this simple reply. Thousand of Turns of tradition, gone, swept away by a girl's sweet smile. She is unconcerned with the trivialities, interested only in the results, so greets the nod with her own brand of approval. Something will come of this meeting at least, besides payment. At that, her hand lifts from Vertai's and she tips forward again to retrieve the pouch left on the table top. She is careful to avoid unsettling the goblets while reaching over them to aquire that little purse. "Thank you, rider," she goes on without glancing up, focused on testing the purse's weight in her palm. It's bulk seems satisfactory and Jendayi settles back, bouncing it from palm to the back of her hand to palm again. "So! Are we all friends now? I lost track." Vertai can't help but chuckle. It's a pained sound, though, as if every bone in his scarecrow's body were aching with it. "No, we're not," he opines, studying the bronzerider with more genuine thought than he would spare for other mortals. It's a dignified regard, as if he were looking down a hillside at the camp of an enemy army. "But we understand each other, and that's more than most people can say." The trader smiles then, bright in the shadows of his face, and stretches one long arm beneath the girl's locks before leaning forward; their trailing curls gather and glisten in the firelight over his burgundy sleeve. "And now that I've fuzzied my head with imaginary wine, I should be returning to my cot." Pause. "Jen, you'll want to go and reckon those marks in our ledger." It isn't a request. The bronzerider's guarded, pale eyes fix on the girl's smile, assessing, judgemental even. Acceptance comes with a mere nod of his own, then: "The Dijilia might find it beneficial to tie themselves to the 'Reaches for more than a mere winter." The words are masked as casual advice, R'hin's gaze now shifting towards Vertai, brows flickering upwards as if in silent query of the man, his own regard not unlike his counterpart's, low chuckle accepting - and agreeing - with his assessment. "Understanding is enough," he agrees, rising a moment later. "I hope the two of you will join me for a drink, soon." The invitation thus extended, a slight tip of head is given before he departs wordlessly, the whispering of Dijilia's bright garb his accompaniment. You wander down the stairs to the caverns below. |
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