Logs:A Nice Tutor
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| RL Date: 12 December, 2015 |
| Who: C'ris, Lys, Evyth, Mivength |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Mivength is a jerk; Evyth is at least partially her sire's daughter. C'ris brings by a weyrwarming present for Lys and ends up offering other help. |
| Where: Evyth's Ledge and Glitter and Glass Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 7, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, T'mic/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions, Zalmai/Mentions |
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>---< Evyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr(#1087R) >-----------------------------< Clear the grime, sweep the dust, scrub away the turns of mud, and this little ledge just might live up to its exquisite bowl view. Rust and green copper tarnish mark the floor, leaving unusual streaks of color across the dark stone. The ledge slopes slightly toward at the outside to keep it free of accumulated snow; at its ledge, clever patterns of squares and knots inlaid with mica and pyrite gleam in the bright sunlight that often reaches this ledge. Identical patterns edge the bottoms of the wall and the wind-breaking stones to either side of the smallish ledge. >---< Glitter and Glass Weyr, High Reaches Weyr(#1436R) >--------------------< Inside, sea-glass mosaics and glittery materials gleam when lights are sets into the elegant glass sconces on the walls or hung from the wrought-iron hooks on the ceiling. The glowlight also illuminates the other walls, whose dark surfaces glint with volcanic glass. Shadows and light play along the old, heavy wood tables and the smooth floor, especially when the hearth is lit. The furniture is smooth wood, stained dark enough to complement the stone around it; the fabrics chosen to upholster the chairs and cover the bed set off to one corner in the back are simple, dusky greens and golds, accentuating the natural beauty of the weyr. Evyth's presence on this high, smallish ledge is almost a sure sign that Lys is at 'home', a home so new it's not even clean yet. There's been progress made on the grime, dirt and turns of mud that occupied the ledge the day before, when it was still unclaimed, but the work is far from perfect. Evyth seems to be doing her part by mopping the ledge with what might be old sheets to wear away more of the grime. Still, even with things in an unsightly state, she's not the sort to ever turn away a visitor and room is made in the cleanest part of the ledge for the incoming. The blue that wings in approach doesn't even bother to reach out to ask permission despite the fact that his rider likely asked him to, already sulking to be dragged to this ledge. He settles into that made room, claws digging into stone as a point as he huffs himself down to let C'ris slide off. He is carefully cupping a package between his hands, which makes the dismount an awkward thing, but he is quick to recover with a smile to Evyth. "Hey, there. Sorry to interrupt. Can I-- Is she inside?" he questions lightly of the green. Since Evyth was nicely, politely waiting for her company to land, it takes exactly no time at all for her to take in the clawing that may well mar her brand new home and for a shrill, « Hey! » to object. She's not a passive creature, for all her usual pleasantry. She pushes onto the ledge, prepared to challenge the blue, who's too large for her to have any chance of success in a match of physical strength, but her tone takes on that of a distinctly maternal scold (without the kindness that a mother might show to one. « You are a guest here! There is no need for you to mess up my home, » asshole. She doesn't say it but... This rise to temper brings Lys running from within, so answering C'ris' question becomes moot. "What's--?" Surprise is dominant in Lys' expression as she comes to a stop, looking from green to blue to bluerider and back. Holding his package carefully, C'ris flushes a little for Lys' question, and he tries to plead to Mivength, "Stop doing that." The screech of claws against stone is the larger blue's answer for both, but then his whirling eyes settle on Evyth for a moment-- before he pushes himself off the ledge and back into the air without a word. Rude. "I'm sorry," his rider is left to offer to Evyth, repeating for Lys, "Sorry. He's-- He doesn't like visiting people." Evyth follows the blue to the edge of her ledge, as if her very sizable mental presence, bristling with both possessiveness (perhaps a trait from her sire did make it into her makeup after all) and upset at having her so very new home thusly violated, sets herself as guard, taking up as much space on the smallish ledge as her smallish body can manage. Lys, meanwhile, looks first bewildered then understanding, then there's frowning after the blue. "Your dragon is an asshole," she'll tell C'ris, in case he managed to be blissfully unaware for all these turns. "Sir," is added as a distinct afterthought. Probably, she's still recovering from that shared feeling of violation. She gives the bluerider a measuring look before sighing out an exhale and saying, "Come in, C'ris. We're off duty, yeah?" Just checking. She doesn't really want to have to sir him. "I'm off duty, yeah. I, uh, haven't really returned to helping with your wing, anyways, so," not that Lys hasn't likely noticed, but it seems that C'ris is going to explain anyways. "I brought by a weyr-warming gift for you." He hefts up that package, but he will follow her in at her invitation in any case. His dragon might be an asshole, but at least Mivength doesn't give any sign of returning to torment Evyth as long as she keeps guard. There's a briefly dubious look over Lys' shoulder as she leads the way toward that package he's brought. "That's... thoughtful. And odd." It can be both. "Is this because I had a moment of weakness and came to make sure you were still breathing when you were not actually dying as it turns out?" Deservingness can be a funny thing, positive or negative or both at once. She skirts the dragon wallow, an area that seems littered with dust and dirt (she must be doing back to front cleaning, given the evidence of the space and Lys' own appearance in dusty, dirty coveralls, tanktop and bandana to cover most of her still short hair. C'ris follows easily, keeping the package firmly wrapped in his hands as he does. "Yes," he confirms to the question lightly, flashing a quick smile to the weyrling. "It's exactly that. Do you, uh-- I can just put it here, then." Here being the table, which he diverges from following only to set the package down carefully before turning to look around. "This is a very nice weyr." "It's not something alive, is it?" Like Beastly's sister. The package and its dimensions are eyed as if it might bite. "It is," the green weyrling agrees. "Needs cleaning, and I don't really have time for it, but I can manage some now, anyway, at least enough to get it cleaned up so I won't be in Jocelyn's way with my wingleader papers and study materials. I figured if I recite the formation names, functions and describe their positioning and justifications for using them while I clean, I can multitask. Some, anyway." Without moving toward the gift, Lys moves and stoops to pick up a broom that was abandoned on the floor in her haste to get out to the ledge. The gift is roughly the size of a lamp or a vase, and it isn't moving so it's unlikely to be alive. "No, it's, uh-- Well, you'll see. When you open it," C'ris points out, his smile catching again. He nods to her logic, accepting it easily. "If you want a hand, I know how to clean. And I know the formations; I can help you study." Wise of C'ris, to keep his gift to the inanimate, not-in-need of nurturing realm. "Good. I had a kitten once. I shared her with T'mic. I don't think either of us know where she is now." They're great pet owners, see? Lys uses this time that she's talking to consider C'ris and his offer. She probably would like to rebuff him, keep the too nice bluerider at arm's length and all that, but she seems to know better than to look this gift runner in the mouth, at least in this way. "That would be..." acceptable? "nice of you." It's not exactly a compliment. "I would appreciate the help," might hurt her to say, but Lys says it with earnest humility. "Do you want the broom or the soap and water? I've given everything a preliminary dusting, but some of this grime has stuck." "I don't know that I am any better. I haven't been so see Beastly in--." But the bluerider cuts himself off with a hint of an apologetic wince, shaking his head before he glances to Lys. "Broom's good. I can sweep," he agrees easily instead, apparently not taking too much offense at the not compliment. Perhaps C'ris gets it too often, now, that he's stopped bothering to correct anyone. He abandons his gift, wrapped, to move to take the broom with a smile, prompting, "So, have you done the forward formations, yet?" "But you still know where he is," Lys points out, "and besides, he's practically been adopted." She doesn't specify by whom, but if in fact there's a bed for him in the weyrlingmaster's office (if), then that would be a pretty good pointer. Lys moves to offer over the broom before going to collect the soap and water and step ladder. "Not yet." Still, she doesn't immediately address those, instead asking so casually, "How are you doing?" like she doesn't care. Like. A small, subtle smile catches in the corners of C'ris' mouth at that, though his head ducks away for the expression that spreads and it's gone even as he starts to sweep with vigor. "I'm good. Busy, always. With the plague wing and drills and-- You know. Probably keeping you as busy with wingleader, huh?" isn't really an attempt to get the focus off himself, but rather a natural interest more in Lys. "That's good. People--" not her, surely, "-were worried about you for a while there. Other than your mother." That last is added in case it needs to be qualified. "Will you be back to helping with us when the plague wing isn't shouldering as much?" It's pretended polite interest. The interest is real, the politeness and distance is-- well. Lys mounts the ladder, picking up at some barely visible point on the wall where she must have left off. She has a bucket of soapy and a bucket of clean, with several more clean and soapy buckets having lined the entryway to be traded out as necessary. If Lys is cleaning, apparently she's doing it Right. "I'm-- it's a lot. With the silver thread stuff getting harder this month, too. I don't want to trade doing well with one for doing poorly for the other. Quinlys is letting me have a second wingsecond and Jocelyn is helping me study for silver threads. It's not easy for me, to lean on the team, but I don't have a chance without them." Uneasily, "I've been kind of a jerk," and then she seems to feel the need to qualify, "to the wing, I mean. I'm good at telling people what to do," shocker! "but not at being sensitive." "I, uh, don't know yet," admits C'ris quietly to that question, but he doesn't linger over the answer. There is sweeping to be done, after all, and Lys' discussion of her own problems shifts his attention easily. "You have-- Well, you have very strong opinions. Sometimes, it's not about being sensitive but just, I guess, taking the time to listen and understand someone else's opinions, too," he agrees with a careful softness. "It's good that you have help. That you have, uh, friends. Since you said before--." "The times I've made other weyrlings cry, it's been about being sensitive," Lys counters, "or so Evyth tells me. I'm going to try to listen to her more, but it's hard in the moment." Lys frowns, focusing on her wall efforts for some moments before saying, "Friends are nice. I've only ever had Farideh and Z'riah who actually wanted to be friends with me, and Zalmai before that, but that was when I was younger. It's a little weird," she admits. Almost absently she adds, "Boys, too," whatever that means. Clearing her throat as though she only realized that pair of words actually were said aloud and she needs to distract, she asks, unhappily, "Why don't you know? Do you not want to work with us anymore?" There might be the smallest bit of guilt there. "It's a special bond, being clutchmates. Having them as your friends. I hope that you learn to be sensitive and-- All of that," C'ris agrees easily rather than countering, offering his warm smile to the weyrling before he turns his attention back to sweeping. He rolls his shoulder to her question, not answering at first as he focuses on the chore. Eventually, he will offer a simple, "It's more complicated than that." The blush comes silently and steals any response Lys might've given to the first. It makes it all the easier for her to say, "Explain it to me?" In case he needs encouragement, "I might one day be in a similar position and could benefit from learning about your experience." And she wants to know, apparently. C'ris winces, slightly, and he even stops sweeping to look up to Lys as he offers his, "I'm sorry; I can't. Not to-- you. I can't tell you, because I said I wouldn't." A pause, before he adds again, "Sorry. But I really don't think you'll be in a similar position. I promise." "Alright," is quiet acquiescence. Lys focuses on the walls and the work at hand for some moments before she says, "So, forward formations." If that topic change proves acceptable, they can have a productive cleaning-and-studying session with the absence of awkward moments or more personal questions. It comes up on dinnertime by the time that they run low on study questions. "We should break," Lys decides, "but-" awkward pause is awkward because the rest is hard for her. Grudgingly, "Thank you for your help, C'ris." And then, "If you have time with your schedule, even if you're not working with us formally, I'd-- value your help, as a tutor this month. It's hard to keep up on my own, even with the help I'm getting. Would you--?" C'ris is careful about sweeping the last of bit of what he's worked up into a neat pile before setting the broom against the wall. He stretches out his back first, before turning to Lys as she continues. And immediately, he agrees without thinking, "Of course. I have some time that I can squeeze you in. We should-- Probably in the living caverns, maybe, or somewhere that isn't either of our weyrs." He flushes a little at saying this, as if just realizing how long he's been here, before adding quickly, "Not because I think it's wrong, just... appearances, you know?" "How about the training cavern?" Lys suggests. "The weyrlings will be getting their weyrs later this seven and so I'll be practically the only one living in the barracks. Probably almost no one will be around in the training cavern, so it'll be quiet for study, and still plenty public." She goes on quickly, "Besides, it's not like most people think I'm that kind of girl, even if I do ride green." "Oh, uh-- Of course," has a hint of rare reluctance, but C'ris agrees anyways with a quick nod. He goes on to promise brightly, however, "We'll make it work." If Lys were a nicer person, she would care about or be sensitive to that reluctance, but she's still working on that whole thing, and now is one of those 'convenient to fail' at it moments. "Evyth wants me to ask if she could give you a lift down." The greenrider's lips press together in some muted humor. Evidently, Mivength made an impression. C'ris winces again at the question, not too oblivious to the reason for it even as he agrees quietly, "Yeah. That'd be good." He glances, briefly, to his left package, but he only looks back quickly to nod. "I'll see you. Take care and-- Enjoy your new weyr!" With that, he will retreat to the waiting offer. "Do you want me to open it now?" Lys calls after the retreating bluerider, her tone oddly curious. "Whenever you want," is C'ris' easy answer, because of course it is. "Okay," sounds easy, but really, it's a challenge. C'ris doesn't say what he wants (if indeed he wants anything), C'ris doesn't get it. Not from Lys anyway. Evyth, on the other hand, is all too amenable to volunteering herself for a fairly smooth ride down to the bowl (or his ledge, if that's what he'd prefer). She's nice, see? And much like he did when she was younger, C'ris takes a moment to scritch at the hide on Evyth's neck after dismounting, offering up to her, "You know, you're going to be a heart breaker. I bet even Mivength will try to chase when you rise." And then he flushes, but he's quick to pat her again before stepping away and continuing on to dinner. C'ris' Weyrwarming Gift This statue is a delicate thing of copper wire and peridot. The trunk is made of the twisted wire, with those wires reaching upwards and branching off to mimic a tree and the metal roots wrapped around a large, flattish quartz stone. Each branch holds a lush number of small peridot stones carved into carefully detailed leaves. And hidden in the quartz, a small, almost invisible inscription has been carved: To finding roots and still reaching for more. |
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