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 Posted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 5:43 pm
However many people ago, Roka had lost count of how many patients she'd seen the past sevenday. There were riders. There were Weyrbrats. There candidates and there were people she wouldn't even know how to categorize. By the end of it she was ready to take a three day long nap. Her patience was running thin and a restless feeling had taken root and stayed there, no thanks to sitting in a chair for days on end.
Finally, finally, she was taking a break. No crazy people, no crying, just peace and quiet. And meatrolls. Roka had taken a handful of them and charmed all the kitchen staff she could find while she was at it. You never wanted to be on the bad side of people who handled your food.
Roka had gone from trauma specialist to mindhealer just like she'd wanted. The attention she'd began receiving for her work was nice, but sometimes she didn't want to be Roka the Mindhealer. She just wanted to be Roka leave-me-alone-and-let-me-eat.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Her large shoes made an attention-grabbing noise as she strut down the hall.
One meatroll down, four to go!
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Posted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 8:09 pm
Step. Step, step. Step, step, slide. Step, step, slide, twirl. Step. Step, step…
Quinnel had found a walking pattern that she decided made for a nice-sounding rhythm. The attention she paid to her surroundings was minimal, only enough to make sure she didn’t run into large objects – say, people – not enough to notice that her flitt, Mud, had vanished. In fact, it was not until the annoying thunking of someone else’s shoes interrupted the sounds of her own measured beat that her focus was jerked back to reality. Frowning, she stopped, listened, and realized that not only had her own impromptu cadence stopped, but so had the soft swooshing of wings behind her. Glancing back over her shoulder, Quinnel realized that Mud was gone. It was not unusual for Mud to get distracted by something, but Quinnel had the impression that he was still nearby.
“ Mud?” she called quietly, wondering if he would hear. A fuzzy image of meatrolls flashed through Quinnel’s mind and she groaned. Mud had found meatrolls. Said meatrolls were in the possession of a dark-skinned woman, and knowing Mud as she did, she suspected that he was going to try and nab one.
Thunk. Thunk.
Quinnel’s jaw clenched faintly as the thunking sound came closer. Scanning the hall with narrowed eyes, she was not too surprised to find that the thunker was fairly close at hand. What did surprise her was that the thunker was dark-skinned and had a familiar brown flitt behind her.
“ Bad Stalker-Flitt!”
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Posted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 9:37 pm
Many people would have had the idea Quinnel was talking to them to start. Roka was not that type of person, and instead of assuming the message was for her, she looked to find the real target. It didn't take long. The flitt was right behind her, making eyes at her food.
Grumpy and tired didn't slow her mind down any, and she made a quick decision to offer Mud two of the meatrolls without putting up a fight. Don't mistake her for charitable. That wasn't what was going through her mind at all. She had just then realized how much food she had. More than she needed, and if Roka ate more than she needed she'd get fat and that was no good.
What kind of name was 'Mud anyway'?
"It's alright. Don't worry about it." She didn't mean 'it's okay', she was calling the flitt an 'it'.
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Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2009 8:31 pm
A normal person would have likely been thankful that Roka was not angry with them, or with their flitt. The way Quinnel’s lips pursed when Mud eagerly plucked up the proffered meatrolls – dropping one on Quinnel’s head before vanishing Between with his own – made it clear that she did not fall in that category. The willingly offered food would only encourage Mud, the exact opposite of what Quinnel wanted; the flitt’s food thefts had already gotten her in enough trouble.
‘ Still,’ mused Quinnel, flicking her hand out to catch the falling meatroll,‘ all she is guilty of is possible ignorance. Yes, possible ignorance, bad timing, and bad shoes.’
Despite her own rationalizations, Quinnel did not feel particularly amiable towards the other woman. Stuffing the meatroll into a pocket, she cocked her head slightly and studied the other woman.
“ Hm, you’re not a familiar face, no. New, maybe?” Quinnel straightened, carefully smoothing her face into an expression of curiosity and innocence, fighting to keep her inward amusement from giving her away. “ Not a rider, no. Recluse, maybe, hm?”
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Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2009 8:58 pm
Ah, wonderful. There was always at least one of Them in every Weyr. Roka sized Quinnel up in the least modest of ways. If one didn't know better, she'd almost (almost) be up for trial, accused of looking a little too closely a little too long. But no, it wasn't what it looked like. Roka could assure someone of that. She ran her finger across her lips; maybe to rid them of stray crumbs, maybe out of habit. Who knew? No point in being overly polite. If this girl was anyone especially important she'd have known her face already. Speaking of, Roka was watching said face closely, feeling it a wise move with a girl like... this.
"Close. It's Roka. I can see where you'd get them mixed up. They do sound similar. I suppose you're the resident lunatic, here to grace on my day off. I wonder, is there some league of you that have an entrance exam consisting of pestering mindhealers such as myself on their off days or does fate really just hate me this much?" Her words sounded like those of a complainer, but the voice that she spoke in didn't. No, her tone stayed one of ease, even lazy. "Before I ask you your name, answer me this: Are you a rider?"
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Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2009 10:40 pm
‘ Roka. Shards.’
Quinnel wanted to sulk. Having made a hobby of acting loony – an act, she was forced to admit, that had become moot with Winath’s arrival – she had made a point to avoid acquaintance with mindhealers. To avoid them she had learned their names, and Roka’s name had been floating around quite a bit as of late. Unfortunately Quinnel had never put a face to the name of Roka, or else she would not have initiated this conversation.
Hindsight was well and good, but it did not deal with the issue at hand. If her regular flavor of crazy wouldn’t work, she’d simply have to try something different.
“ Hm, didn’t know lunatics had leagues; thought it rather beyond them.” Quinnel matched her tone to Roka’s, even shifted her stance ever so slightly to better resemble the mindhealer’s. She was determined to derive some form of entertainment from this meeting, one way or another. “ Such a pity though, this… conspiracy against you. Do you feel others plot against you often, hm? Think you have organized stalkers? Not good, no.”
Knowing one part of her game was at an end, Quinnel allowed her lips to twitch up into a half-smirk, half-smile. “ Rider? Yes, I am a rider. Would you like me to inform someone of your quandary? Of the organized lunatics with designs against your person?”
The ability to see the future was not one of Quinnel’s abilities, thus she was unable to divine what Roka’s response would be. Perhaps Roka would be offended by her insinuations, or perhaps she would retort in kind. She was personally hoping for the latter, as she had not engaged in a decent match of verbal sparring in some time.
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Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2009 11:02 pm
Instinct and her true nature wanted to grant Quinnel her heart's desire, but the voice in the back of Roka's mind won every time these days, The voice that badgered and prodded her to Be Professional during these sort of situations. Don't buy into it, don't take the bait. Be professional. Maybe she hadn't been up until then, but shh. Didn't need to have that pointed out, little shoulder angel, thank you very much.
"No, I've no one to inform. I'm new here, but not to Weyrs. I'm a Weyrbrat, in fact. I've done studies on riders; many, many studies. I've noticed that not only do dragons not Impress those with serious mental illness, they don't even search them. I seriously doubt the dragons native here have different tastes, so I'm only left to assume you're perfectly sane. In fact, I might even go as far as to assume you're too sane. Very clever little girl, trying to lure people into amusing you. If I got angry it'd be funny, wouldn't it?"
Roka watched for a reaction, but didn't wait for a response. She already knew she was right (ah, arrogance) no matter what retort this rider might have had. "That being said, I wouldn't mind some sane company for a change, so if you'd like we could communicate from here on out as equals rather than you trying to toy with me."
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Posted: Thu Jul 30, 2009 10:12 pm
This time Quinnel did sulk. It wasn’t much – a drooping of her shoulders and faint downturn of her mouth – but it was the Quinnel equivalent of a child crying because their toy had been taken away. She knew that the disappointment she felt was silly, that the odds had been stacked against her – her being a Rider, her would-be victim a mindhealer – and yet she couldn’t help it. It had been a long time since someone had realized on their own that she was not insane and she was not certain she liked it.
Roka’s proposition required thought. The only people she treated equally and acted normally around were her siblings Westren and Iantha. She reigned herself in around her superiors, that was true, but she did so as a matter of survival, not out of respect or friendship. In fact, one of the few Weyr inhabitants that she had come to like on some level was one that she seemed to better connect with when not acting normal.
In the end it was Quinnel’s knowledge of the future that was the deciding factor. Quinnel was a rider, Winath was growing fast, and sooner or later – likely sooner – they would be assigned to a Wing. As a member of a Wing it would be essential that Quinnel be able to communicate effectively and work in a team, but her skills in those years had likely decayed from lack of use.
Decision made, Quinnel eyed Roka. Although her posture remained the same, there was a different feeling to her now. Gone was the distance, the ignorance, the confusion, and the haze, replaced with a keen, if wary awareness.
“ I shall endeavor to do so, though old habits die hard.” Her speech, though slow and stiff, was clear and her own, not the mimicry of another. “ I would prefer if I could be, hm, sane elsewhere. "Quirky Quinnel" could be ruined by a big mouth; a shame, for fear of contagious insanity is so useful for keeping the deadglows away.”
The last part was said with a mixture of pride and wistfulness, making Quinnel's opinion about the intelligence of most people quite clear.
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Posted: Thu Jul 30, 2009 11:01 pm
Hands free of any edible items, she was now free to run one through her hair. First and foremost, she wiped them on the cloth inhabiting her pocket prior to it's use. No offense to the kitchen queen--Mirelle, was it?--but Roka would not be eaten those again. Not that she would have to begin with had she not been desperate for any food source. Didn't matter who cooked them. They'd be gross no matter--
--Oh, right.
"Sometimes they do," she hummed thoughtfully, agreeing, yet not agreeing. It was a strange voice. This girl was interesting, just not interesting enough. No one was interesting enough to force Roka to remind herself this was her off day. Until the sun rose tomorrow, whatever anyone had to cry, whine or go crazy about? Not her worry. Nope. "You don't need to sound so formal, either. I'm no one you need to look smart nor unconvincingly stupid to. Try that act again and I'll read you look a book more than I already have, though. Must tell you in advance, I can have a big mouth if need be and I'm very convincing. This is my job, after all."
Did it sound like a warning? Could of. Roka couldn't bring herself to care because it may have been. Plain and simple: She didn't want to play these games today, so if Quinnel started up again, she'd have no qualms about calling her out. Again. "As it stands, how you present yourself to anyone other than me isn't my business, so I'm fine with moving. If it's any comfort, we'll go to my office. That way, no one will bother us, and if they see you you'll still be thought..." Insane. "...quirky. Fair?"
One yawn, one stretch and one deep breath later, Roka was on her way to the place she so affectionately called home. Normally a place of chaos she attempted to make order. Today, a safe haven from anything like it. She didn't look back to check if Quinnel was following or not, content to just assume she would. If not, that was a shame, but Roka would live with or without (questionably) sane company. Before she had taken a step she remembered, "So, what is your name, dragonrider?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 19, 2009 11:13 pm
“ I shall en- … I will try not to.” Said Quinnel, referring both to speaking formally, and to acting.
Don’t act crazy, don’t toy, don’t be too formal; so many things for Quinnel to remember. There were so many things she had to keep in mind, so many things to avoid doing that she almost wished she could flee. “Quirky Quinnel” was an act, but at some point the act had become easier then reality.
“ Fair enough.”
When Roka began to walk Quinnel loped along behind her, taking the time to compose herself. She would have to consider this an exercise, a drill of sorts, be cause the time was fast approaching when she would have to set aside the guise of “Quirky Quinnel.” Of all people, she supposed a mindhealer would be the best person for her to break the act with, since any slip-ups she might make would quickly be caught.
“ I am Quinnel of green Winath.”
Speaking of which, Quinnel realized that Winath was concerned, wondering about the recent whirl of emotions her Rider had experienced.
‘ Mine?’
‘ I’m fine.’
In the brief silence that ensued, a thought had occurred to Quinnel. Roka was not what she had come to expect of mindhealers, which made her curious.
“ Do you like puzzles?”
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