Xanadu Weyr - Council Chambers
Effort has obviously been spent on this room and the result is simple luxury. The elongated room, situated between the Weyrleaders' and Weyrsecond's office faces the clearing. Two large windows, flanked by heavy antique bronze jacquard drapes are shielded by ivory-colored sheers that allow a diffused light inside. Walls and the recessed ceiling are of polished granite that gleams a pale creamy-gold in the soft overhead lighting. Hanging in the space above the head and foot of the table are heavy frames with fine paintings in each, signed by the artist with a scrawl that begins with M. A potted palm in one corner adds a finishing touch.
Much of the tapestry-carpeted floor is occupied by a long, heavy table of Lemos hardwood, the dark stain polished to a brilliant shine, each place set with an elegant blotter made of leather, a fine pen and a pad of paper. The cushioned chairs are fashioned from the same dark hardwood, the backs and seats upholstered with softly-tanned leather. The room seats perhaps twenty or so, but can be used for more informal meetings as well.
The entrance to the council chambers has been a revolving door for the better part of the day. It's interview day! Word has gotten around that the Weyrleader is in search of an assistant, and he's finally drowned in enough paperwork to actually seriously set aside time to meet with those who have shown interest. Unfortunately for Ka'el, many of those who have only did so just to get a closer peek at the administration rooms or the Weyrleader himself. From the very young to the very old, the illiterate to verbose, the young man has had conversations of varying lengths with many Xanadu residents. Though thus far, none seem to have ignited the spark he's been looking for. He sits now in one of the cushioned chairs that sit around the grandiose table of the council room, a pen in hand and a pad of paper with much scrawling set in front of him. Dark dress pants are worn below a pale blue collared shirt, and a dark jacket is worn over that, buttons left loose. He's eyeing his notes as the last applicant is ushered off, a starry eyed young woman who showed more interest in chatting about him than the actual job she was allegedly applying for. A vague frown of thought creases his brow as he scratches a line through something on his notes. There's only one more left for the day, and … considering the day, hopes aren't high. She'll be escorted in, when ready.
With a swish of the fringes of an olive green jacket, the slight rattle of green and blue layered beads around her neck, Haya's introduced to the luxurious council chambers. Bobbing a head full of tightly coiled ringlets at her escorted in thanks, the supposed applicant veers straight away from any of the chairs opposite the Weyrleader, choosing an almost warpath that leads right up to his writing hand. Her own, as it happens, are also occupied: a thin tray balanced between her dual grips and, on it, a mug of freshly steaming klah. Sweeping one hand beneath the tray's center, the other's freed to pick up the mug and set it delicately above the edge of Ka'el's pad of paper. Shifting back a step, a look of absolute terror flickers across her face and she struggles to rein it in before he can look. Confidence in spades plasters over her youthful looks, upturning her smart little mouth. She clears her throat, disguising a need to banish the lump in it as a mere social cue. "Take a load off, sir, and let your new assistant handle this."
Ka'el doesn't immediately look up as the door opens for the umpteenth time today. Perhaps he doesn't even notice … and perhaps that's because he's noticing that there's something wrong with his notes. He's been diligently keeping track of the people that have showed up, but there were a few unannounced faces that he had to pencil in. Two or three no-shows. And somehow, he's gotten off on his tracking. The one who just left, what was her name again? He's pondering that just when *thunk*, suddenly there's a mug of klah near his hand. He blinks once, blue eyes shifting from paper to mug, watching as silvery steam curls and disappears up from the mouth of it. His pen is lowered as his gaze lifts higher, pausing on the unfamiliar face of the woman who apparently has delivered a pick-me-up. Her words are initially met with a blank expression, unmoved in every possible way. And for a few prolonged seconds, there's only silence from him as he watches her. But then, eventually, a smirk breaks the stoic mold and he shifts his hand to turn the mug. "I'll be more impressed if you prepared it my favored way," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Have a seat," he offers, gesturing to a nearby chair. "And I’m going to take a guess and say that you're not.." he eyes his note page, "Issaac, beastcrafter and wrangler of porcine."
"More impressed suggests you're at least a little impressed already." Haya ventures, breaking into a half-grin worthy of the sharp exhale of relief releasing the stick up her spine. That silence was nearly deadly, though she'd managed to wrestle herself into staring him down nonetheless. Practice with brothers, let's say. She squints thoughtfully, perhaps even threateningly, at the poor mug of klah for possibly being unsatisfactory as she pulls out and takes a seat. A smoothing of her hands over her lap gives them something to do, while innocuously getting rid of the evidence of her nervous sweating. The squint remains, less threatening, as she eyes high above Ka'el at the ceiling to ponder, "Well, my name's Haya, not Issaac, and I'm a harper," that much is said plainly, flowing solidly right into, "but it's not my place to question what you want to call your work." Because, see, doing paperwork and taking meetings can feel like wrangling— never mind; he gets it or he doesn't, leaving Haya to eye him with her tongue stuck up against her teeth in holding back her full amusement should he not.
"A little," Ka'el confirms easily enough. "As you were the only one with forethought enough to bring me something you thought I may need. I also would've been impressed with any of the following: Sandwiches. Cookies. Cake. Bubblies. Meatrolls." He gives a sage-looking nod once the list has been completed and pulls the klah mug closer to himself. Abandoning his pen, he lifts it by the handle and brings it to his lips, exhaling a slow breath against the surface before taking a tentative sip. "…Not bad.." Another smirk is offered, and the mug is kept in hand as he listens to her. Haya. Yes, he had her on his list! That's a plus, even though he had her in the wrong place on his list. Sigh. His eyes remain on her now, and his head tips a little in question as he continues along. Until… he laughs. A jovial sound that matches the expression on his face. "Tell me about it," he agrees, nodding. "And I've been the one doing it all! Or attempting to, at least. It's taken me months to realize that if I continue as I have been, I'll be drowning in what porcine are infamous for leaving behind." So! This interview has gotten off to a jolly informal start! Far better than his last already, but he reels himself in, expression sobering slightly, yet not entirely losing his smile. "Haya, is it? Well met. My name is Ka'el, and I'll be asking you a barrage of questions, but I think most are simple. Are you ready?"
Haya's laugh comes as a little girl snort, loud and uncaring except to express shared amusement at Ka'el's expressive lamenting. She's quick to take the cue, though, and her back perceptibly straightens when he sobers. Her hands as they've been resting on her lap now slide to weave fingers together. Young she may look, but at least also proper, and deserving of being in a Weyrleader's council room. "Well met, Ka'el," she expresses warmly a tone almost a world — or at least a few large rooms — away from the wry jokester of a few seconds ago. "And I'm ready, thank you for asking."
"Where are you from?" Ka'el asks, lowering the klah mug to claim his pen again and the pad of paper, flipping to a new sheet. "And why does this job interest you?" At least there's no beating around the bush, and much like Haya, the young Weyrleader's demeanor has shifted from playful to official, though there is still an underlying tone of friendliness. His gaze is focused, yet not harshly so. Expression is easy and eyes genuinely curious.
"Tillek," she answers with a bob of her head, not even hesitating before adding, in the same politely informative tone, "You can't tell because the Harpers beat the accent out of me." Haya's eyes flicker briefly to the side, discussing internally the wiseness of making such a joke during the 'official time', but what's done is done and she returns with a slight shift, licking her lips in a small stall before answering, "Something about me is that I strongly want to be where things are happening. Xanadu's both at the cutting edge of growth, and at the cusp of learning the most about the past. And, well," her hands spread as her mouth tics gently down in a quirkier little gesture, "sir, you're in charge. The diplomatic answer would be that I want to help you, but, well. I don't know you, do I. But I'd like to. I'd like to be doing something for Xanadu." A beat, then, "Even shoveling shit."
Luckily for Haya, Ka'el seems the type that doesn't mind a joke or two, especially as well placed as hers are turning out to be. He cracks another grin at her quip, his pen scrawling upon his notepad in the process. "I've heard rumor that Harpers aren't all song and dance," he remarks. "That their placid nature is their biggest act of all." He keeps his retort brief enough to not let the topic stray too far back into jestful territory, and his pen continues to move as he nods at her latter answer, pausing at the last of it. Mirth dances in his eyes at the end and manifests on his face as a faint upward quirk of the corner of his lips. "Harpercraft seems to suit you," he remarks. "Little that I know of you." He pauses. "You're right about Xanadu. It's a different now than what it was the five or six turns ago that I came. And it continues to grow and change. Our techcrafters stay busy." He taps his pen a few times. "What is your craft specialty and rank? And, if you get the position here, how will you balance your craft duties with your duties to me?"
Bobbing her head in thank you for the remark sends her ringlets all bouncing in individual dances. Haya allows her smile when he agrees about Xanadu, showing a tinge of affection at the edges sharpened by the ambition sparkling in her dark eyes. "I'm Journeyman in law and history." For the next, she lets a small pause show, hands pushing down on her knees as she readjusts in her seat not out of discomfort but a sense of giving the idea the weight it deserves. Duties, she implies with a little bit of body language, are important. "Very carefully." At first, this appears to be her only answer, until her hand comes off her lap to the tray she's left on the table next to her. Turns out klah wasn't the only thing it carried in; she slips a piece of paper out from inside its barriers, snapping it straight and sliding it toward him with a sheepish squint. "Not to give you more paperwork, sir, but I took the liberty of mocking up a schedule. It's flexible, see," leaning forward, she slips a finger to point to the early mornings and late evenings, "Here and here, as I didn't know when best you worked and I'd like to carve out some time before that so that things are ready for you when you do get to it. I've also, if you notice, blocked off lunch as a work hour as I'll be making sure you're eating yours."
Journeyman. The word is written with a nod of thought. That gives her a bit more leeway though doesn't make her duty-free. There's a vague knitting of his brows as he ponders this, not thoroughly convinced that a crafter would be the best fit for administration work. Not convinced yet, at least. Her brief answer to him is too vague of one to warrant a reply. What can he say to 'very carefully'? And so he waits, watching her, expecting and hoping for more, which he eventually does get. He sits back in his chair a little, pen rolled between two fingers as the retrieved paper is given a curious glance. When it's offered to him, he reaches out to pull it his way, eyeing what's written and drawn upon it. A .. schedule? Eyes flit from the paper to her, then back down to the paper as she further explains. "Ah… I see.." he says, nodding once, then twice as he leans in a little to examine the page a little more closely now. "You're the most prepared applicant I've seen all day, I'll give you that," he says, sounding genuinely impressed now. "And I don't know what rumor you've heard, but I'll vouch for myself and say that I do eat lunch!" Most days he does. As long as he's not in the middle of something. And as long as a deadline isn't staring him in the face. .. Both of which happen rather often. His grin has returned at this point, and his pen is lowered again. "I'll take it that you've already secured yourself with the Journeymen of Harpers here, and you're settled. If you take this job, understand that you'll be working for me. Not the Weyrwoman or Headwoman or countless numbers of others who go in and out of this hallway."
"What's the point of wanting something if you don't go out and do your best to get it?" Her rhetorical over her preparedness is said matter-of-factly, Haya shrugging one shoulder to dismiss all those who might've come with less than she. "I'm settled and ready, sir, and, if I may…" a finger raises to tap her lips thoughtfully, "It's not a matter of 'if'. I'll take it. You merely have to offer." The perk of her smile suggests how pleasant and easy she's making this for him. See! Helpful already.
Between fawning fans, those looking for a private meeting to discuss personal wants, and applicants who can barely read enough to figure out just where papers would need to be filed…Haya is looking to be his best bet. Ka'el's quiet for a time, weighing his options, glancing over notes in the meantime. Finally, with a crack of his knuckles, he sits up in a decisive way. "I don't see any reason to not give you a shot. If reasons present themselves and if they prove too large to overcome, then your shot will be over. But.." a smirk, "I think everyone deserves a chance at something they want, and it seems as if you want this. The job is yours." Hooray! "Report to my office in a sevenday, and I'll get you acquainted with where things are, who people are, what I expect from you, and..to be fair, what some of your expectations may be of me." A smile. "Deal?"
She tries, hard, not to let the sudden exhale seem too obvious, but a bit of it escapes from between her lips, ruffling some of her ringlets. Haya snappily nods, smiling as he smiles. "I like fair," she answers, thanking him with her tone for both the chance and that allowance. "Deal." From resting, she thrusts her hand out to offer him in an official seal, firm but not overbearing. When it's complete, she smooths out her pants and then rises from the chair, shifting it back into place with a grip on her back. "You can keep the schedule," she adds, "I've got a copy." Lips pressing together, her eyes twinkle and she can't resist. Her tone remains businesslike, "I look forward to discovering what kind of klah sir takes." As if this were the absolute highlight of the position. Nothing better, her little tic of a smirk suggests, than ending on the note they started.
Ka'el extends his hand to grasp her hand within his, completing the handshake. He rises with her, nodding at her insistence that the schedule will be kept, hoping that he himself doesn't lose it between now and the next time that they meet. "And it will be a pleasure watching you struggle to find it," he answers in reply, tone once again playful. "It was good to meet you, Haya, and I'll see you in a seven," he says as he dips his head to her in a nod, feeling a slight weight sliding from his shoulders. Assistant, hopefully found! That's one hurdle jumped with many more to discover along the way. But of all the things he doesn't know about his newest hire, he's sure their journey, however long it may last, has quite a few jokes along the way! He'll see her out yet not follow her into the hall. There are still a few things left to do here. One of which is enjoying a cup of still warm klah.