Logs:Turnover Talk
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| RL Date: 4 June, 2016 |
| Who: Catling, Quint |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quint visits his sister at Fort and meets weyrling Catling, discussing the upcoming Turnover. |
| Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 13, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Olivya/Mentions |
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The lake's shore is a broad crescent of golden-hued sand, stretching from
the southwest wall near the feeding grounds and around to the southeast
where the sand gives way to soil and leaf detritus from a cluster of hardy
mountain trees. Where the lake deepens, clear blue water darkens to murky
teal, hiding stony depths. Dragons often sun here and riders use the lake
for dragonwashing in the warmer seasons, while all of the Weyr's denizens
may enjoy walks and picnics among the large, smooth boulders that
interrupt the smooth flow of sand. Many of the Weyr's children also play
at skipping stones with the wide variety of rocks available along the
water's edge.
From morning straight through until well into the night, large,
soft-looking snow falls steadily. The sun is below the rim of the bowl when a dragon glides down to the lake, coming in to a graceful sweep above the water before landing next to the trees. The dragon has a bit of snow melting on him, looking like sugar dusted over cake. He is a gangling brown, ten months old, oddly graceful and awkwardly lanky at the same time. For a moment he mith seem to be riderless, save for the straps, but then a girl slides down his flank, using his leg to help dismount. She's a couple inches short of five feet, a wispy waif of a girl, and she looks up at him. "Let me get the straps off, and then I'll get you dried. Eh, better that than you getting back to the weyr all sopping wet. If you're sure you're not...." she lilts at him. Out by the lake, two figures are taking an early evening stroll. One perhaps familiar -- Gisele, the blonde one of the oldest candidates of the recent clutch, now a seamstress -- and a taller man with similarities in feature enough to suggest a relative of some sort -- dressed unmistakably in harper blue -- even if his knot wasn't enough to identify him as such. The dusting of snow that covers their coats and hair suggest they've been out long enough for at least one circuit of the lake. The pair comes to a halt as dragon and rider land not far up ahead -- there's an odd look on Gisele's face, briefly, before she says something hasty to her companion and rushes off towards the bowl. Left bereft of his companion, the harper takes it on himself to continue the walk, right towards brown and his girl. "They've grown quite significantly since I last saw them. They always do, and yet it's hard to credit it when blink and look back, and they're," Quint gestures, up, towards Riyoth's height, gaze appreciative. "Suddenly enormous and once upon a time you can still easily remember they were shorter than you?" The girl turns her head, then nods. "Good evening, Harper." She bobs her head, then turns to unfasten the straps from around the brown. "I'm sorry if I upset her." She nods Gisele's way, then looks up at the man. "His name's Riyoth." The brown lowers his head to look at the man and the girl smiles. "And I am Catling, Riyoth's rider." She slides the straps off gently; they are well-made and worked to smooth supple softness. She shakes them briefly before looking at the Harper. "DO you need a towel? I have extras." "From the stands, they were practically, this big," Quint agrees, holding finger and thumb a short distance apart. "Weyrling," the harper returns the greeting with aplomb, adding, "High Reaches' and Harper's duties to Fort," with the ease of someone used to the formalities demanded of weyrlings. "Well met. Quintus, Journeyman Harper, currently posted to High Reaches." He presses a hand to his waist, executing a half bow, a greeting that takes in dragon as much as rider. "A towel?" He seems surprised by that, for a beat. "Well, if you have one handy -- I'd planned to thaw out by the hearth before I sought a ride back. Though I didn't count on being abandoned by my sister, but siblings," he spreads his hands, as if to say what can you do? "Can't live with them, can't quite convince them to abandon you at the *right* time." THe girl smiles, then drapes the straps over her shoulder and bends to pull a carryall from her back. "I knew Riyoth would be a bit wet, so I brought some towels. I usually bring extras. And if you give us a chance for me to thaw a wee bit, we can fly you back. I already checked in, and duty's over for the day, so I'm free to fly you. I mean, if you don't mind a weyrling. Riyoth says hello, by the way. He's not too tired, and he has made the jump before." Quint tilts his head, watching the girl as she speaks for a moment or two, before he answers: "I don't mind. I'd have thought you'd want nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed, though -- or has Liv began easing up on you lot already?" There's a quick smile as he refers to the Weyrlingmaster with familiarity. His gaze flickers to the brown, with a grin, "And hello to you, too, good dragon. Does the water bother him so?" "Easing up? No.... but it's still a pleasure compared to before coming here," answers the girl. "The water doesn't bother Riyoth, but drying him off keeps him from getting the weyr too damp. Besides, it means I can check for ay places that need oiling, especially in this weather." Catling's brows quirk. "It's not real sunset yet, anyway, so a bit early to sleep. And I wouldn't feel right relaxing whilst you were abandoned here." She pulls a couple of towels from the carryall and passes them to the harper. They are herb-scented andsoft despite being stuffed in her pack. Then she pulls off her riding cap and gloves and sighs. "Though if you are hungry we can go after supper." "Mm, well, abandoned might be putting it a bit..." the harper trails off, frowns briefly in the directly of his departed sister, and amends: "...correctly. I appreciate the rescue. Though," he lifts a finger, "Don't expect some ballad of daring rescue to be written. I'm not that easily swayed," is said with a genuine laugh, accepting the towel from the weyrling with a grateful nod. He runs it over his head, muffling his voice as he does so: "Oh, no. I wouldn't presume Fort's hospitality or so much of your time. I've observed all too closely how little you weyrlings have of it." "Eh, well, it's my own time until morning, so that's a fair bit. And Riyoth doesn't mind one way or the other. Though either way I'll need a few minutes to get the other pair of straps. We were doing watchrider sweeps, and the snow wasn't keen on letting up. I want to put something dry and properly oiled back on him. So please, whichever suits your desire, Harper Quintus, and I will be at your service for the evening." Catling smiles, reaching up to dry the wet spots on the dragon, heedless of her own wet gear or hair. When she indicates she needs some time to prepare, the harper gestures in that universal, take it way, a casual flick of his wrist. "A change of clothes for yourself likely wouldn't go astray, I imagine," Quint adds, easily, as he settles the now-damp towel over an arm. "How are things here, if you don't mind me asking? Gizzy says she's already busy with requests for Turn's end, so she's barely paying attention to the wider goings on. Frustrating, I admit, for the harper to hear. You must be, mm, two, three months off graduation?" "He's ten months and a fortnight old," answers Catling, and some of the humble formality fades in the obvious rush of warmth and pride for her dragon. Her head lifts up, and there is someting different about her bearing, a confident strength. "Seems like it's flown just by. Soon we'll be tapped to a wing, and who knows what after." Her eyes go distant a moment, and she smiles up at the brown, nodding slowly. And then she blinks and shakes herself, and ducks her head a bit shyly. "Things are well here. People remember how to be happy, to have hope again....." Then her face pales. "Oh shells, Turn's End. I'd forgotten...." There's a knowing smile that touches Quint's lips, as if he's all too familiar with the change that talking of one's dragon tends to bring out in their riders. "Then I hope you're chosen to the wing you prefer," is all he murmurs, after a moment. Her expression at the latter earns a tip of his head, and then: "Understandable enough, given what you've been busy with," a flicker of gaze towards Riyoth, then back to Catling. "Not to worry. You have time yet. Have you any plans?" "Admittedly, none," answers the girl. "I haven't anything proper to wear yet and don't want to overburden anyone with a shamefully late request. Besides.... I don't know how to dance and I sort of avoided last Turn's End celebration. Because it was.... well. Awkward. This year? Maybe I'll offer to take watchrider duty so others can enjoy the day." She clears her throat. "Never been to a Turns End, nor yet a Gather. It's intimidating." "Never?" Quint echoes, as if this is the most shamefully terrible thing in the world. "Well. It sounds as if this is the Turn to change all that, rather than avoid it. Surely Riyoth wouldn't begrudge you one night away from duty for that? Besides," the harper grins, "I've an in with a seamstress who might be willing to accommodate you, seeing as you rescued her stranded brother." "Oh, I couldn't impose!" The girl flushes crimson. "It's just that before, I watched my brothers when my father and stepmother went off to Gather's or Turn's End. And there were the ovines to look after too, and I could manage them well enough." She inclines her head. "And sometimes there would be treats brought home, and so when the boys had eaten them and been cleaned up for bed, well then I had my loft to myself and a dance-floor in the straw where no one could watch my missteps. And the old broom past mending or the hay-rake made wonderful partners. Besides, I don't know any of the right dances nor any of the songs." Catling pauses, then turns towards her dragon. "Yes, if you could open them, but carefully. I'll get the sail-edges for you." "It's no imposition. It's her job -- and it's one she loves," Quint assures her, waving his hand as if it's a done deal. "I'll ask that she makes time with you in the next couple of sevens. It sounds," he grins, "As if your time at Turn's end is long overdue. Not to mention a gather or two -- since you said you had mornings free, I'm sure you can sneak in one or two down south -- it'd be evening in your mornings, after all." With a cluck of his tongue, "Gathers aren't only for dancing, after all. Besides, I'm sure Liv will be imposing the etiquette lessons on all of you soon enough -- might as well start some time?" When Catling addresses her dragon, he adroitly takes a couple of steps back, though still within conversational range. "Etiquette lessons? I thought we'd had those already... and I *did* have lessons from the harper as a child long enough to learn Holder etiquette. I mean, aye, some's different, but lot's the same, too. Though in my mind it's odd for to be getting respect I haven't earned yet." The dragon dips down low so the tiny young woman can reach his wings. "What else happens at Gathers? And what about Turn's End? And for the dress, I've hardly a mark on me." "Mm? But no dancing lessons?" Quint tips his head, "Well, surely you can ask then. A few mornings a seven until Turn's end and you'll be as good as... well, not quite as good as a harper, but enough represent the Weyr well enough." The harper exhales briefly; there's a lot of questions there, and he tackles the easiest firsts, as he waits: "Gathers are about celebration. So there's plenty of unusual food and drink to try, traders and crafters bring their wares so you can get items you might not normally see pass by the Weyr. Not to mention being able to meet folk of all walks of life." The latter question about the dress is waved off with nary a word spoken, though whether she can see with her attention on the brown is another matter. "I left home with the clothes I was wearing and a water-skin and some bread," muses Catling. "Which is all I could call my own anyway. So... what you're describing is so many worlds away I can hardly dream it. And again, I mean, I have no marks. I'm a girl with a dragon. So...." She flushes. "I'm probably asking stupid questions, and I beg your pardon, Harper Quintus. I don't *mean* to be stupid." The dragon's eyes whirl orange for a moment, and the girl goes very still. "Oh. Forgive me. I shouldn't be but a few more minutes, but I haven't seen to any of your needs. Are you warm enough? Hungry or thirsty? Please do pardon me... I'm just so used to seeing to Riyoth first of all." "Sometimes, the best experiences of a gather are just that -- the experiences -- not necessarily buying anything. Besides, you have something you can trade," Quint gestures towards Riyoth. "If he'd be willing to transport a person or two, favors can be paid in kind." He shakes his head to her statement of stupid questions, "Better to ask and know, then not and never," before he lifts up his hands at the latter, "Oh, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Thank you, though. A rider need not excuse seeing to their dragon first and foremost," he assures her. "Thank you." Catling makes her way from the wings to the easier-to-reach underbelly, and she grins. "He says I don't weigh enough to worry about two or three or so more people, even. Thanks, Riyoth." She opens her mouth to say something more, then flushes again and opens and closes her mouth fishlike a couple of times. "No. I will *not*," she finally says firmly. Then, looking at the Harper, she adds, "SOrry. Sometimes he can be.... ermm.... hem. But. A ride now and again.... that isn't worth a fine bit of crafting. At least though, I'm not too bad at working leather." Curiosity flickers across the harper's expression at the silent exchange between rider and dragon, ending with an easy grin. He's too polite to inquire, however, and instead Quint says, "Perhaps not a Master or Journeyman stamped piece of work, but apprentices sell their wares there too, some better than others. I can't think of an apprentice that wouldn't love the thrill of a dragonride or two to some secret place, or to steal back home for an afternoon." A moment of consideration. "Most, anyway," is conceded a moment later. "If it's too secret, it'd be hard to get to," admits Catling. "Because I wouldn't have the proper reference points. Still, while it's nice to be able to pop about anywhere..... oh, just to *fly*...." She draws herself up. "I feel for your sister. it's..... No, Riyoth! Stop it." The girl glares at the dragon, then turns her back to him. "Would you like to walk with me to get the straps, Harper Quintus, or would you like to wait here? Riyoth says you may stand near or against him as he is warm if you like to stay." "I'll accompany you," the harper decides, without hesitation. He gestures, as if to allow Catling to precede him. Again, there's that ever-present curiosity at the exchange, but instead: "I've heard," he says, casually, "That riders will share secret places with other riders. Perhaps you can ask your wingmates, once you've graduated." "Oh?" Catling flushes again as she passes the Harper and starts to walk towards her weyr. "There's that to look forward to also, then." She sighs, then clears her throat. "I'm sorry for my behavior. And Riyoth's. He always tries to push me to be a... better me, you see. A more assertive me, I'm positive. A more confident me. And he also wants me to make more friends.... So I apologize. It's.... sweet but rather embarrassing." "Why are you apologizing for being who you are? Let alone your dragon being who he is?" Quint, if anything, seems entirely puzzled by that. "Because he's still young and doesn't always know better and I 'should' know better and not let him embarrass me. Especially in front of a Harper." Then Catling sighs. "Well. Since he might intervene even worse, you might as well know. He thinks I think you're cute and should ask you to Turn's End. What do I even 'say' about that?" Quint slows, then stops, regarding her easily for a moment, the practiced neutrality of a harper forefront in his expression. Voice soft, he says: "I think you should tell him that, being a harper, Turn's end is work for me. And I also think you need to explain to him that, as flattered as I might be, you're probably half my age, and there'll be plenty of suitable, age-appropriate young men at Turn's end for you." He keeps his gaze on Catling as he offers, "Perhaps I can try and explain it to him, while you collect your straps?" "I... shouldn't have said anything, really," murmurs Catling, th pink reaching all the way to the tips of her ears. "I mean, yes, you are.... nice to look at, but I am only sixteen, and you make me think more of my father's friends than anything. Besides, I 'do' know it's work for you, and I'm sure this is.... It's just.... I wanted you to know 'why' I was being a babbling idiot. Because I've been ever so much better at not being a babbling idiot, but ever since that lecture.... Riyoth is a dear, and very supportive. But sometimes he gets rather too over-.... what is the word I'm looking for.... enthusiastic? In his support. If you'd like to talk to him, of course you may, but.... I can't guarantee he'd listen. Oh. Do you have anything you need to collect for your ride back? And do you have a hat for between?" Silent throughout her initial response, Quint murmurs easily, "No harm done. I'll keep him company while we wait for you," he says, starting to turn away. At her question, he pauses, and pats the pocket of his coat. "All ready to go. See you soon?" he adds, turning with the intent of retracing where their footsteps have fallen in the snow, back towards the lake and the dragon there. Riyoth has moved a bit away from the trees, and he is looking intently into the lake, as if he might find fish there. He turns his head, though, as the harper approaches, positioning himself to give the man some shelter from the snow. He has, apparently, been making claw-marks in it while waiting, as if the impressions somehow fascinate him. But now he turns a curious gaze on the man, whuffing out steamy breath. The harper is silent at first, as he approaches the dragon slowly, nodding towards Riyoth once the dragon turns his gaze on him, taking advantage of the shelter he provides with obvious gratitude. It might even seem, at first, that his claim of wanting to speak to the dragon was an excuse, given his silence, but then finally: "Things are different for humans. What makes sense to you doesn't make sense to us. The same," Quint's lips twist, "Could be said of the reverse. The difficult part will be learning to accept those differences," he turns his gaze from the lake to the dragon. "I hope you do. It seems like she could benefit from you. And vice versa." He hunches into his coat, letting out a breath that plumes in the air, gaze now shifting to watch for Catling's approach. He doesn't appear to expect an acknowledgement of his words. The dragon shuffles closer to the man, and he lowers his head so that his eyes are even with the Harper's, and he studies him intently. Then he gives a low rumble, though it is hard to say what it means. but his eyes are whiring bluey-green, and he opens his mouth to breathe out a waft of warm air. There is no meaty smell on his breath, rather a sort of spicey note. And then Catling appears, though she is carrying more than just straps. The harper doesn't seem overly perturbed by the dragon's nearness; he's obviously lived in Weyrs for long enough to be used to them. Still, the rumble and subsequent breath, while Riyoth's that close, makes Quint shift his weight and dart his gaze back, while he waits in further silence for his rider to appear. "He says you are maybe right though he isn't sure he understands, so he will think on it," Catling calls as she comes near. She holds out a sheepskin cape; the leather side has been backed with wool fabric of a rather mottled dye. "You looked cold when I left, and it's too close to Turn's End to risk a harper's health between. And a hat. It's not masterwork and it isn't pretty, but it's warm." It isn't much more than a sheepskin bag with the fleece turned inwards. I... apologize for offending, Harper Quintus." Then she pauses and holds out a bun. "Redfruit inside. Still a little warm." "There are few pasttimes more worthy than thinking on the things that lead us to a better understanding of one another," Quint says, in a cadence that speaks of a teacher instructing a student, giving another nod to Riyoth. He seems surprised with the things Catling has brought and opens his mouth -- pauses, and accepts them instead with a nod of thanks. "You didn't offend me. Far be it for any man to be offended by a girl wanting to spend time with him. I should get back, though, if you're near ready," he adds, as he moves to slip the cape around him and lift the hat to his head. "It only takes a moment to get the straps on," answers the girl. And she is quick about it, aided by the helpful Riyoth. First her straps, and then the auxiliary set for the Harper. "Riyoth, down please," she asks, then motions to one extended leg. "If you need help mounting, do let me know. I'll check your straps before we take off. And Riyoth, the gentle rise, please." Again there is that shift from awkward girl to competent rider, and she offers the harper a smile. "And if you have any message you wish to send to your sister, I'll hold at High Reaches to give you the time to mark it down or tell me directly. Thank you for.... understanding." Quint moves away to give them room, watching silently. He's obviously familiar enough with riding that he shakes his head to the offer of assistance, waiting until Catling mounts first before he follows suit. "You've been more than enough help," the harper assures her, easily. "Ready whenever you are." Catling climbs up, nimble and quick despite her size. And though the Harper seems to know what he's about, still the girl checks his straps, and her own before launching. awkward as she is, she is conscientious, and she nods when she is sure he is secure before fastening her own connecting straps and slipping on her cap and gloves. She leans forwards slightly, and then Riyoth gathers himself, launching into the snowy sky. The brown rises in a sweeping arc, giving a scenic view of the Weyr from above and the lands below. And then, as the light from the sun finally fades out, replaced only by a snowlit glow, they turn towards the north before vanishing into the darkling sky. |
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