Logs:Stories
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| RL Date: 9 May, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, C'ris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh worries, C'ris does not. |
| Where: Records Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Nimae/Mentions, Cora/Mentions |
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| Throughout the day, the temperature has steadily dropped, along with a smattering of snowflakes that quickly dissipated once they touched the ground, and nighttime has even colder weather in store for the Weyr. Inside the records room, it's hardly relevant, but Farideh is still wearing a yellow, long-sleeved tunic over her usual, well-worn trousers. She's set herself up at one of the tables, scattering it with a varitable slew of hides and records, leaving no room for anyone else to share the table; not that there aren't plenty of other vacant desks to occupy. Presently, she's walking between two of the shelves, tips of her fingers running along one of the ledges and her eyes scanning the assorted documents as she progresses, obviously looking for something in particular. But overall there's a hush in the room, the monotony only broken by the soft sound of Farideh's footsteps, the tapping of a pen, and the soft, whispering voices of the scribes. It is down one of those aisles of shelves that C'ris can be found; down the aisle that Farideh is moving, even, coincidentally, as he leans propped up against one of those shelves at the veeery end. He holds a book open, skimming it lightly before twisting it around. He certainly doesn't have a studious air about him, easily distracted to look up at the footsteps of someone else and flash her a smile whether or not she's looking. "Hey there," he greets lightly. Where fingers had been brushing a blue-bound book seconds before, at the greeting the weyrling's hand jerks back and she turns guiltily to stare impolitely at C'ris. It takes her a few beats to cover up her surprise and find her voice. "Hello," Farideh says, blinking a couple times. She glances around their immediate vicinity, as if expecting someone else to be there, before returning inquisitive eyes to him. "I didn't mean to-- interrupt." C'ris' only offers a grin to that impolite stare, a hand lifting away from his book to scruff at fluffy hair with an air of abashment. "No, you aren't interrupting. I might be interrupting you, since I'm not doing anything here," he answers lightly, gesturing with his book. "Interrupting me?" Farideh is mildly amused by that suggestion. "I was just-- looking-- for something. I'm studying." One forefinger taps the weyrling knot on her shoulder, and she leans a hip against the nearest shelf. "There's far too much here and-- reading is tiring, really." Beat. "I'm Farideh. Who are you?" "C'ris," is introduced easily, a quick smile marking the name on C'ris' lips as he straightens and folds that book, only to offer Farideh what seems like an earnest salute, if quick and light. "Pleased to meet you, Farideh." A pause, before he tells her with friendly humor, "I don't think you have to read everything here." "C'ris," Farideh repeats, considering the man attached to the name. "No? You don't think I should?" Her eyebrows lift, though amusement runs rampant in the gentle curve of her mouth. "Tell me what I should know, then. If not the texts about the Reaches, what? I should do at least that, right? Or should I throw caution to the wind and stay ignorant to our history?" C'ris laughs, a warm thing that brightens his brown eyes and wrinkles with lines so used to laughing. "Well, I think you could start, if you want. But all of them seems like a lot. And you'll get training, and experience, you know, outside of hides," he offers to her lightly. "Yeah, but," Farideh scrunches up her nose, her lips puckering. "There's a lot I still don't know. A lot has happened around here. It's always been this way-- that bad things happen, good things happen, that--" She lifts her shoulders, and then relaxes them. "I want to know what's happened. What's made this place into what it is. Why do people cling? And why do people put their lives on the line for something that' let them down so many times? You know?" "Yeah, but you probably don't need to know all that right this instant," C'ris points out gently, his smile softening into something sweeter (and still, so earnest) as he does so. "I bet most everyone doesn't know all of it. Not right away, definitely." The man's helpfulness is met with a sudden frown. "No, but most people aren't representing the Weyr in the same way. What if I meet Cora at a gather and she asks about the story of Darci? What do I tell her?" Farideh sighs dramatically, and slants him a contemplative glance. "It's kind of you not to expect too much of me though." "I don't know why she would," considers C'ris about that question, though he offers her another flash of a smile, as if just for good measure. "But, I imagine you've got a bit still before other weyrwoman are asking you questions. Enough time to learn that story. And even if you didn't, you know, I'm sure you could have an answer for her." He rolls his shoulder upwards, not dramatic, as he offers her out the book he's holding. (Shamelessly, it's a children's book about firelizards.) "Have you ever had a conversation with a weyrwoman? They ask the trickiest questions with the worst hiding meanings." Farideh clicks her tongue and pulls a face, semi-turning to assess the records closest to her on the shelves. "Have you heard about Nimae? How shrewd she is?" There would be more face-making, but she glances aside, at C'ris, then to his book, which she reaches for with a furrowed brow. "What?" "Something to start with," C'ris explains so easily, his smile light and genuine. "I'm sure your dragon would appreciate it. They are still babies, after all, and they tend to like this sort of stuff. If she does. If she doesn't... I'll find her something else." And when she's turned to him, close enough to grab that book, he adds quieter, warmer, "You'll do fine. Worrying won't help, now." "You want me to start with--" Farideh chokes down a laugh, as she scans the book he's handed over, with its colorful illustrations. "Roszadyth much prefers a romance story or an adventure story, but the pictures are-- lovely?" Her eyes flick up from the pages to the man. "Do you read children's books often?" is imbued with warmth and laughter. Moments later she sobers and smiles sadly. "I don't much have a choice to." C'ris' grin pulls brightly at his lips, his finger lifting to press just lightly against the side of his nose as he tells the weyrling with mock-solemnity, "Not too often. But I'll look into a good romance for your girl next." That sobering is only met with a gentleness on the bluerider's part, as he agrees, "No, but right now you should be focusing on her and yourself. The rest, well... It'll happen whether or not you worry about it, won't it?" "You know, some people actually come here to learn," Farideh puts in, still cleaving to that mild amusement. "But thank you. You really don't have to. She's just as easily satisfied with a half-story and a bit of truth." She pulls the book, once his, into her arms and up against her chest. "It's hard not to worry about those type of things. I don't want to be the worst weyrwoman there ever was, even if I know I won't be the best." "You won't be," C'ris has no hesitation in assuring, a slip of a smile tugging at his lips again as he taps his temple this time. "But what makes you think that all the answers to that will be found here?" A pause, before he points out by adding, "Never heard a weyrwoman talked about because of how much she'd read, you know." "They might have made strides to read and learn in private, not where just any busybody could watch," Farideh suggests, laughingly. "They might have known already, but I am positive if they weren't well learned or versed in the ins-and-outs, we would have all known it. The most incompetent weyrwoman of the Interval." She lifts her eyes upwards, musing. C'ris laughs with Farideh easily, a warm thing given its own room to grow before he even tries to add, "No, but-- You know what I mean. There are more important things than what you've read. Being kind and caring and knowing how to make the best decisions. All of that is more important than whether you know Darci or who our Weyrwoman was fifty turns ago." He offers another flash of a smile, before adding, "But that's just this busybody's opinion." "I know," Farideh adds, a little more quietly. "It doesn't make it any less, just because you say it." She moves her weight off the shelf, taking a step to the side, and studies him briefly. "It was nice to meet you, C'ris. I should get back to studying though-- if I continue to fail at arithmetic, Quinlys will surely make sure I never see sunlight again." Her chin dips in the faintest of the nods, and no, she's not giving his book back; instead, she tucks it under her arm as she turns and saunters back down the aisle, towards her acquisitioned desk. C'ris doesn't seem to want that book back, only brightly insisting, "Nice meeting you too, Farideh." Where she intends to stay, it seems the bluerider has had enough of the records room, and he will make his own retreat from the cavern entirely to go about his day. |
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