Logs:Volunteers
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| RL Date: 8 May, 2015 |
| Who: Quinlys, C'ris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: C'ris comes to check on Quinlys, for no reason. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'qui/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions |
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>---< Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr >---------------------------<
Made private by a thick, insulated door that blocks out most of the noise
from the barracks beyond, the weyrlingmaster's office is a comfortable,
quiet alcove. Instead of an imposing desk, much of the room is taken up by
a large round table, with five chairs spaced around its edges. Beneath it
is a square rug pieced together from twisted rags that stretches from wall
to wall, just barely leaving room for the long bookcases and filing
cabinets. On the back wall, a geometric tapestry and blue and black is
hung, providing both insulation and decoration.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
C'ris M 27 5'9 trim, brown hair, brown eyes 0s
Quinlys F 31 5'4" soft, dark red hair, blue eyes 22s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Training Cavern
>-------------------------------------< 1D 10M 37T I10, autumn afternoon >---< It's chilly out there, this morning, and the lucky weyrlings are doing their morning calisthenics as a light snow falls down upon them (suckers). Quinlys has left the lesson in the capable hands of some of her assistants, having retreated indoors to the warmth of her office, where a fresh-made pot of klah accompanies her stacks (and stacks) of paperwork. Still, she's probably a good deal more comfortable than her charges, and is clearly smugly pleased with herself, working away with relative diligence. That light snow is what C'ris is still scrubby from fluffy, dark hair as he opens the door to Quinlys' office. He doesn't knock, notably, just opens and peeks in before flashing an apologetic grin. "Sorry, I just-- you got a minute and all?" he questions with some measure of chagrin, leaning on that door and hovering for her answer. "You missed this place so much you had to drop in?" A weyrlingmaster never forgets her former charges, naturally. This weyrlingmaster waggles her fingers towards one of the other chairs about her table, adjusting her position just slightly so that the foot that was drawn up beneath her now returns towards the floor. "What do you need, C'ris?" "Just, you know, seeing how you are. And the weyrlings. How the weyrlings are," C'ris replies as he pushes away from that door, hesitating over leaving it open or shut and manages only to half-close it before joining Quinlys at that table. He drops into his chair easily, offering another smile to the woman as he does. Fine red brows raise in reply to that set of statements, Quinlys' mouth curving into an amused smirk. "Bullshit," she says, but cheerfully enough despite that. Rocking back on her seat, she considers the younger bluerider, those brows still raised. "Hey," is C'ris' immediate defense of himself, hands lifted in a gesture to illustrate he has nothing to hide as he continues with a light, "Really, just-- You know. Heard you weren't happy with the Weyrwoman, and then you got that notice posted up. They say. Anyone's volunteering to leave?" He is, apparently, shameless in his curiosity, as mild as it is. Quinlys hesitates, reaching for her mug though she clasps it between her fingers rather than actually sipping. "I don't have a problem with the Acting Weyrwoman," she says, her tone dropping a few degrees to something cool but not outright cold. "I had a problem with the original deal that brought her here. Why does everyone always assume it to be personal?" Despite her words, it's clear she gets why; she just doesn't want to. "One of our new bronzeriders wants to. I'd send him in an instant, but that's not what the deal is. He stays." The apology comes easily to C'ris' lips, finding no difficulty in offering Quinlys a quick, "Sorry. It's just what I heard. Obviously I didn't believe it, but." But the man is rubbing his fingers against his chin, thoughtful as he consider the Weyrlingmaster across from him. "I thought, maybe, I don't know. If you needed some help. I could. Help, that is." The sharp jut of Quinlys' chin might well imply that she doesn't believe C'ris' lack of belief... but she's also not inclined to push it. Besides, she's got that second part of his words to consider, and that deserves all seriousness. Her mug gets set down again, her brows knitting. "You weren't exactly a stellar example of weyrlinghood yourself," she points out, which, at least, is not a no. "Mivength's always been a difficult dragon," isn't just an excuse, though C'ris seems not too ruffled by Quinlys' words as he flashes another boyish smile to the Weyrlingmaster. "But I learned. Eventually. I could get you a recommendation from my wingleader, if you wanted." A pause, before he continues with a hand lifting to ruffle through his hair again, "I am much better now." Quinlys', "What, much better once you were out of my loving care?" can't be wholly serious, especially since she herself was only an assistant when C'ris was a weyrling. Besides, the corners of her mouth are twitching slightly. "I'll talk to your Wingleader. Frostbite, isn't it? However." A pause. "It's not my practice to hire assistants partway through a class, not when they've no experience. There's training involved." "Right, of course," is so agreeable on C'ris' part, his smile only offered to Quinlys again at her response. It seems he takes it as a no, however, when he starts pushing to his feet. "Sorry for bugging you. I'll, you know, see you around. Tell N'qui I said hey, the next time you see him?" One beat. Two beats. Three. Then: "Wait." C'ris has gotten to the door by that time, turning around only at the sound of Quinlys' voice to look back to the Weyrlingmaster. "Yeah?" is almost as if he can't just be silent and wait for her to speak. "I can't take you on as an assistant," is a repetition of what she's already said, but Quinlys says it anyway. "Even ignoring everything else, I don't have the budget for another one right now. But... look, maybe you could be useful. I don't want to turn away interested parties, when I can. K'zin sort of apprenticed to me, last time." Sort of. "You know, volunteered, helped out, learned. So we could figure out if he'd work. If you wanted to do that..." "Sure," is so bright and easy on the part of the bluerider, a grin once again appearing curving at his lips. "I could do that. I've always got some free time outside of duties." C'ris pauses, and then starts, "Should I go do ... You know, anything? Now?" It's possible that Quinlys is ever so slightly bewildered by this, despite surely being used to C'ris-- or at least remembering. She pauses, and then, just like that, begins to laugh. "No. But come back just before dinner tonight; we've got a staff meeting. I'll introduce you, and we'll work out where you can be of use. If that suits?" "'Course," offers C'ris in turn, his grin unrepentant at her laugh though his own humor spills over into warm brown eyes and the edge of his words. "I'll bring my own booze. Any preferences?" Quinlys' beam, this time, is positively glowing. "Whiskey," she says, without pause. "I think I'm going to like having you around. I'll see you tonight, mm?" C'ris nods, though he doesn't seem able not to talk as he follows himself up with a, "Gotcha. See you tonight." He will hesitate over that door once again, adding one last question to the Weyrlingmaster of, "You want this open or closed?" (Notably, it doesn't matter what her answer is, it will be pulled shut behind him on habit.) "Op-- never mind." Quinlys plainly doesn't really care. And anyway, she just recruited herself some more slave-- er, assistance! Hurray! |
Comments
Yesia (01:53, 9 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
EXCELLENT.
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