Logs:Another Dismal Attempt At Communication
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| RL Date: 10 May, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Communication fail. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Kharven/Mentions |
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| It's the end of another lecture by Journeyman Harper Kharven, who has been explaining-- in detail-- the importance of properly representing the Weyr when attending gathers or other events. "These," he concludes, "are important guidelines for all external visits, mind. You're a dragonrider, now; everything you do reflects upon your Weyr. Some holders may not expect much by way of etiquette and appropriate behaviour, but this does not give you leave to cause problems." Quinlys steps in, then, affirming: "Prove them wrong. I'll kill you myself if you shame us, once you can travel that far, and I don't think I won't." With that, the lecture is dismissed; the weather may not be lovely outside, but plenty of weyrlings still seem eager to escape. Quinlys stands with Kharven, talking lowly to him, though blue eyes sweep the room all the while. The once-scribe exhales through her teeth as the lecture finishes, a thin veneer of boredom at odds with the pages of detailed notes on the topic she closes the notebook binding on. Akluseth's rumble spurs her into motion then, one of the last students to leave, today's questions will have to wait for another time as she tries to make her way past to her lifemate without incident. How successfully she manages would be anyone's guess. « Do you need yours desperately? » Olveraeth wishes to know. He's outside-- he's usually outside-- but that doesn't mean he can't seek through stone walls to find the younger dragon. « Mine would like to talk to her, but it can wait, if it must. » Quinlys hasn't moved; she's still chatting quietly to the harper, her pose utterly at ease. A wash of cerulean waters running cool and deep is Akluseth's easy reply, the brown already making his way to the lake to ease the faintly itching hide in the waters. « Do you like to swim Starman? » the words carrying an undertone of respect. He doesn't even warn his rider, but she notes his disappearance into the bowl with faint disapproval. "Seaweed brained brown." She murmurs to herself just as her footsteps would carry her past the Harper and Weyrlingmaster. « I do, » allows Olveraeth. « Although I prefer the water to be warm. » He shares an image of the isolated hot spring higher in the mountains where most of the Weyr's riders bathe their dragons. « And flying is superior again. » "Edyis," says Quinlys, stepping away from Kharven. "Do you have a moment?" « Not allowed to fly yet. » The brown replies wistfully, enthralled by the idea of those springs. « Water is the closest I can get says Edyis. » It isn't precisely a flinch, but the weyrling snaps a tidy salute, responding promptly, "Yes Weyrlingmaster." Her face already going utterly blank. « Patience, » is Olveraeth's advice. But then, when is it not his advice? « Soon you will fly, and then you will see those springs, too. » It's the blankness of Edyis' expression that bothers Quinlys, plainly, her expression going from serious to utterly unamused in the space of less than a second. "Charming," she says. "I see you're making all the effort. Do you enjoy shutting yourself down? Is that it?" Edyis arches a dark brow at the question, "Shutting myself down?" A touch of frustration works its way into the edges of her eyes, gone in an instant. "Is that what you wished to speak to me about?" Plainly not understanding the change in the redhead's mood, but wary of it all the same. "What else should I call it?" Quinlys' tone is even, though her brows have arched. "They way you change your expression when you look at me. Is it to hide your disdain? I'm here to teach you, and I'm bringing in people to help, but all you do is look bored. So. Talk to me." Edyis glances around, as though suddenly very aware of her surroundings. The words are picked carefully, neutral in tone and kept so that they will not carry beyond the bluerider. "Do you truly want me to talk? Because you can't talk to someone who isn't an equal. I am not your equal, you are the Leader, I take your orders. That point has been made abundantly clear. Not just by you." This time, Quinlys brows furrow; finally, she shakes her head, dismissive and plainly unimpressed. "Then you don't listen," she says. "How am I supposed to teach if you won't communicate? I want you to listen, yes. I need you to do what you're told, because sometimes that's the difference between severe injury or even death. But above all, I need you to understand. No one wants a blind follower. But you don't want to let anyone earn your respect; you don't seem to want to be here at all. And I can't help you, if you can't move beyond that." Ink-dark eyes make note of dismissive headshake, and then there are several beats of silence, before with great reluctance she fishes out a second notebook from her bag along with the one she had just been using. "I have dozens of these, starting from when I first came to live here," the books themselves filled with page after page of neat, precise script, observations, notes on subjects studied. "I am wrong more than I ever care to admit, but don't mistake the boredom as an unwillingness to learn. Or attempts at being neutral as disdain, you told me to learn to keep my mouth shut and so I have. Now you are upset because I don't want to talk. Plenty of people have earned my respect; it just isn't a quick or easy thing, made more difficult by inconsistency." "No," says Quinlys, unfazed by anything Edyis has to say aside from the faintest flush of pink in her cheeks. "I told you to be careful with what you say. You equated making use of people's skills and abilities with burning people's homes and forcing them into a militia. That was incredibly offensive. It was also a faulty leap of logic. Like equating 'Quinlys likes a drink in the evening' with 'Therefore she must get drunk every night and beat people up for their stipend and destroy everything.' Whether you like it or not, Edyis, you come across as an insufferable know-it-all. You act like you're too good to be here. Like you're judging everyone you see, and no one lives up to your standards. I'm trying to prepare you for your life, now. That's my job. And the thing is? You shouldn't be bored. If you're bored, you're not trying. And that I cannot stand." Her voice is low. Kharven, the Harper, is hastily attempting to sidle away. Edyis exhales now, and doesn't seem too keen to argue word choice, "I said that it was dangerous to think of people as tools. The logic leap to that being what a weyr does was all yours." Her jaw visibly twitches at the mention of burning but it fades again quickly as Edyis catches herself getting angry. It's gone again almost as quickly. "The same has often been said of you." Her voice is soft and neutral. "I don't know you or know enough about you to say either way." She sighs, "You say you want communication, but you dismiss anything I say. You want to prepare me for the live I have to live, but you don't know anything about the life I already lived, you aren't interested in the life I have already lived. You say you don't want blind followers but your actions..." Dark eyes drift to Kharven, and the scribe asks gently. "Have I ever failed one of your tests, or failed to turn in my assignments? Journeyman Kharven?" "I dismiss what you say when you are wrong," says Quinlys. She's not angry. "And if I dismiss the life you have lived, it is because you aren't taking what I have to say seriously. Because you act as if you already know it all; that I have nothing to teach you. I don't care what you've done before; I care about making sure you know what you need to, going forward. It's not about tests." She shakes her head. "What you're missing, Edyis, is that you are here to learn, but all you seem to be able to do is judge. I don't claim to be perfect, but I am good at what I do, here. You're not stupid, but your attitude sucks. It sucks towards me, it sucks towards most of my assistants, and it sucks towards the Weyrleader. Improve that? And maybe we'll learn how to communicate. Excuse me." Whatever the Harper has to say, she doesn't wait to hear it. Edyis exhales dark eyes resigned, as the Weyrlingmaster proves the point. She has nothing further to add, and it is with an apologetic bow for the instructor that she departs heading for the lake. |
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