==== September 19, 2013
==== Nora, Q'fex
==== Q'fex asks for Nora's help with supplies, and also crazy goldriders.

Who Nora, Q'fex
What Q'fex asks for Nora's help with supplies, and also crazy goldriders.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 9 days until the 12th pass
Where War Room - Southern Weyr

Nora5.png qfex_4


War Room
Where books used to live in the skybroom room beyond, they *do* live in the war room, in dismal state: a few scattered pages may deepen the mystery, but most of the books, scrolls and hides laying scattered are waterlogged or dryrotted, falling apart at the touch.

It's spring in Southern and mild with it — but for all that it is a lovely day, Q'fex is inside the newly-renovated War Room, where all of the current documentation is kept handily accessible for the leadership. He's seated at one of the comfortable desks therein, going over what appear to be inventory manifests, making marks every so often on a separate hide, tallying up a total of… something. His dark eyebrows are drawn together in concentration, and he doesn't seem to be quite cognizant of anyone else — though only a Harper apprentice, dutifully maintaining records, and a discreet guard otherwise inhabit the space.

And now there is also a trimly dressed woman, striding in with her gray dress sweeping about her slim calves, though perhaps that's not so noticeable compared to the bright pink scarf that serves as accent around her throat. Oh, but there is a bit of pink in the piping of her heeled shoes so… nevermind. Anyway, Nora comes in, a ledger under her arm, aiming for exactly the right shelf to replace the borrowed file, though the clack of her heels comes to abrupt halt when she realizes Q'fex is there. She offers him up a wide smile before continuing over to tuck the ledger among its fellow caverns accounts.

Distraction, thy name is Nora: because Q'fex is well-and-truly distracted as the impeccably turned-out young woman enters. "Nora," he greets her, reaching out with a leg to kick at the chair on the other side of him — by-way of offering, perhaps. "You are perhaps the exact person I need to see." His smile is lazy, as so many of his expressions are: dark eyes that seem perpetually drowsy shift as he inclines his head towards the chair. "What do we have in expendable, soft items that we can dye? Do we have any connection for used rope?"

Exactly the person he needed to see? Nora puts on a smile as if his sentiment has been followed by some talk of her being the sunshine on a cloudy day, the exact person everyone needs to see at any given hour. And thus, the smile swears is lightly flattered and playfully sympathetic when she answers, "I know," with just a dash of sing-song. It is, though, just in good humor, and she turns to approach and slide herself into the offered seat, hands folded on the table as she listens to his heart's desires. But this is not her first rodeo, or so claims her increasingly knowing grin. And then it disappears for the sake of seriousness. "In my experience, anywhere there are ships, there are old sails and worn out rope. I could check the stores, but given how recently we've settled…" Worn out stuff might be harder to come by. "As for the dye, one person with a knowledge of the local plants, a few riders and an afternoon could probably see that done. Or blood, from butchers." Fear factor.

Q'fex strokes his chin, and the scruff that has already darkened it, thoughtfully. It's not nearly as evil overlord as it COULD be. "Ships." His eyes narrow in thought. "Well, perhaps…" He shakes his head, then. "One of the local lads that Impressed told me that they make a kind of rope out of a vine, after it's been boiled. Perhaps you could see to it that the candidates are taken out on an expedition? See if we can't get something. Maybe a group up to Tillek, and another to try their hand at making them…" His voice trails. "They don't have to be perfect, since we're just going to end up flaming them." He buries both hands into his hair, staring down at the hide in front of him, then glances up, awkwardly, to Nora. "I want to run a full-length mock fall, with all wings. So we'll need… a quantity." He's only the hitched twitch of a smirk for the suggestion of blood as dye; it seems rather fitting.

"Vine," Nora repeats, her own lashes taking on that thoughtful narrowing, gaze cast aside at the wall beside the silent guard. She looks at him only briefly before carrying on. "If you want something to hold the dye, I'm not sure about vine. I suppose I'd have to see it. Or rather, have someone who knows better take a look. But if you just need something to dip and drop, that might be the most economic way to go. "Vines, in blood, would probably do the trick without costing us much more than the labor of a few candidates." Easy peasy, for her. And yet why does the man look so stressed out about it? Her neat head tips to the side, delicate fingers corralling the tumble of a just-so piece of sideswept hair behind her ear. She considers him, hands-in-hair, posture sinking into his paperwork. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm going to be left with a hundred or more dragons all painted like drunk whores with too much blush," Q'fex returns, his voice morose. He shakes his head, then allows his palms to slide along his cheeks as he straightens with a half-yawn, eyes going to the ceiling momentarily. "I would appreciate it if you would look into the logistics of that. I don't mind expending a small budget for sailrags if need be, or dye. I… would like at least some of them to be dipped in bright dye." So it's OBVIOUS how bad they are. In his head. "And.. we'll probably need to use the candidates to throw ropes down, anyhow. The weyrlings will be flying by then, and perhaps strong enough to ferry ropes from the ground up to the thread-flingers…" He's FOCUSED on all of this. Then. Abruptly. Without warning. "Why is Lendai so fucking crazy?"

Nora's lips press together. Is she wearing blush? No probably not; too pale. And maybe that bit of rosiness on her mouth is just a reflection off that pink scarf she's wearing. Anyway, exposed ankles (currently crossed beneath her seat) or no, drunk whore does not apply and so it's more likely that it's Q'fex's obvious distress that gives her some pause. "Of course, sir," she says of his request. "You want the candidates in the air?" she asks, rather dubiously at first but clearly thinking it over in the subsequent seconds and perhaps not so averse to the notion. She's still pondering that particular phase of the project when he suddenly shifts gears. Her mouth is caught open for a moment, not so much taken aback as just… processing. "Well, I did hear about some…" Event? Behavior? Incident? Any of those. "In the library." Which the prim blink of her eyes seems to find distasteful. "Or are you asking why she makes you crazy?" And with that, a single finger flicks up and down to indicate his whole present person, currently wrought and prone to unexpectedly personal questions.

"They might as well see it close-up," Q'fex returns re: candidates in the air. "We don't want anyone who isn't committed." TRIAL BY FIRE. Q'fex is an advocate. "Thank you," he is very careful to be gracious, with full eye contact and seemingly quite genuine emotion as to Nora's taking over a part of this somewhat-unorthodox project. With that, he seems to close the topic — leaning back in his chair, he considers her response. Thoughtfully. "No, why she is crazy. She makes me crazy by being crazy. She's ran through the weyr naked on numerous occasions, without flights to blame a lack of… discretion. She nearly killed one of her own juniors. She has no earthly idea…" He catches himself in a middle of a rant and shakes his head, tersely.

Nora, to her credit, does give the question a moment of thought. "Have you asked her?" It's a novel idea, at least. Hey, Lendai, why are you so crazy? "I'm not sure I can answer why she is the way she is. I've never… spoken to her." But hearing about nearly killing someone is a bit disconcerting and the headman's assistant has her brows pinching together. "I hadn't heard about that," she admits, leaving enough pause to, perhaps, invite the story now. "There's nothing you can do to stop her? Do you not have… support?" She manages to make the question sound more sympathetic than anything else, but there's a little something sharper in her eye as it picks over the man's face. A breath of a laugh comes as she settles back in her chair, a posture less prim and more comfortable, though she does cross her arms as well. "Let it out," she suggests. Wasn't she exactly the person he wanted to see?

"I…" Q'fex pauses. "I'm not sure if I have." He's maybe approached it obliquely but not face-on, and THAT gives him a long pause to consider this NOVEL IDEA. "She was the one who built that platform. The one that collapsed on Hannah." His look is DARK for that, and he looks rather still pissed over the whole thing. He shakes his head in exasperation as to what he can do to stop her; "If I meddle in the lower caverns," he points out, "What's to stop her from fucking with my wings? And, begging your pardon," he has the grace to look a scant mite apologetic, "But the wings are just more important, at this point in time. I can't risk breaking tradition and invite the same from her." He affects the same pose he had a moment ago: hands in his hair, staring down at the hide in front of him unseeing.

"Oh, yes, well… I did not get the idea that she meant for it to collapse," Nora points out in Lendai's favor, sort of. There's a little wrinkle of her nose since, well, anyone who might have seen the platform was pretty quick to assess that collapsing was inevitable. "But the juniors, they're no help in the matter?" Perhaps, at a certain level, it doesn't count as meddling anymore? And she doesn't draw any attention to the fact that she, herself, is part of the lower caverns with which he is averse to getting involved. Anyway, when he swears, Nora flashes a quick smile to forgive him. "Perhaps all you can do, then, is ignore her. I'd imagine that a reaction is exactly what she's looking for. Maybe it won't be so satisfying to scandalized the Weyr with her breasts if it appears that no one is impressed by them." But, there is a long, drawn inhale, resigned. "It might be difficult, though, to convince everyone to ignore it." 'Difficult', otherwise known as 'impossible'.

"She didn't have to mean it to collapse. Did you see it?" Q'fex's eyebrow do an independent movement of rising, apparently without communication what they were doing, because he catches the expression and changes it back into one of faint consternation. "Bailey's a bitch," he states, bluntly, "And Hannah…" His voice is faintly wistful - well, to one as observant as Nora, at least. "No, no help," he confirms. Her entire idea of putting her social-attention-reinforced behaviors on extinction seems to give him a moment's start. "But perhaps … I could get enough." With a look gone thoughtful (and thus intrinsically dangerous, given this particular man), he nods at Nora, once, precise. "Thank you, Nora." There comes his half-smile, charming as ever, off-center and crooked: "You were the person I needed to talk to." That serves as his lead-in to departure, evidently, as he places palms on the table and moves to rise.

Is it her idea, really, that gives him pause, or is it the fact that she slung the word breast around without so much as an uneasy titter. (… Hah!) Anyway, as Q'fex goes through the rollercoaster of cursing Bailey and wisting over Hannah, Nora is pursing her lips, curled fingers lifting to brush against her chin. "On second thought…" Yes, she can see he's getting ready to rise and leave, but that doesn't seem to hurry her along from the conversation he started. "Do you think it's just your attention she's looking for? Or someone in particular? Perhaps placating her is a simpler option. Fewer moving parts." Fewer than some kind of Weyr-wide gaslighting. And only after that does she shift her weight to be ready to stand when he does. "Did you have a timeframe on the rope drills?" she wonders lightly, as if this whole discussion about Lendai never interrupted the original topic.

Q'fex pauses to give Nora a most blank look, like he couldn't conceive of any reason, "Why would Lendai want my attention?" Q'fex-The-Clueless does look off, though, contemplatively. MAYBE SOMETHING CLICKS. "Huh. Maybe she has a thing for Th'seus. Things seemed to get worse after he won Hannah's flight." His face goes EXTRA thoughtful. One thing is for sure: Nora just made this whole situation FAR MORE CONVOLUTED, because Q'fex will now have to go hunt Th'seus down and find out what the other bronzerider things of this hypothetical conjecture. Good job, Nora. Here's a gold star. "Oh, a sevenday or two. Not more than three, ideally. I want to catch them at physical peak, right when they've caught their second wind from all the drilling I've mandated." Because a few more sevendays to slog through is just what the docto… er, Q'fex prescribed. He stands. "If that sounds doable?" A tilt upwards of dark 'brows.

Nora looks goooood in a gold star. As as she stands, she also gives him a decisive nod for the timing of her task. "Yes, sir," she accepts without fanfare. After that, she puts on her sweet smile for the expressive lift of his brows, perhaps even bats a lash, though subtly done if so. Doable? "For me? Of course." Pride, thy name be Nora. "Good luck. And let me know if you need anything," she bids with with a twiddle of her fingers in the air before she turns to head back the way she came.

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