Logs:Being Nice
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 27 December, 2015 |
| Who: Telavi, T'gar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telavi checks up on Rat after drills. They talk a bit on wings, future aspirations and flights. |
| Where: Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, C'ris/Mentions, J'vain/Mentions |
  |
Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
Directly opposite the sharp spikes of the Reaches' characteristic spires
lies the bowl's south rim, from above seeming pinched like a baker's pie
crust to form this distinctive lip: a soft curve, several dragonlengths
long but only four lengths wide before narrowing into impassable crags. It
would have to be an apprentice effort, however, given how even the flatter
area is riddled with cracks and hollows, dusted with glittery silicate
quartz that is far more gritty than sweet.
Though the view down into the bowl is commanding, the views beyond it can
be absolutely breathtaking on clear days: eternally snow-capped mountains
descending to high-altitude meadows and the dark brush of evergreens, and
greener valleys beyond even those, with only glimpses here and there of
human habitation. But the views come with a risk: the wind can blow hard
and strong, and whether looking inward or outward, there is no protection
from the precipitous chasms that fall away from these heights.
Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly
warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the
air. The sun is high and hot, but now and again Telavi shivers from the cold pack she's applying to that arm she bruised in earlier's lengthy aerial firestone-sack drills-- unless it's due to the close call of one of the weyrlings' landings, offset by the still-unfamiliar weight of the passenger riding to an also-unfamiliar ledge or maybe just distracted. Forcing her eyes away, back to the weyrling wingleader perched with her, "How are your shoulders holding up?" His shoulders flex, those muscles there visible. "Far better than your arm, ma'am," T'gar answers her as he works his way through removing his riding gloves - having arrived after leading wing drills for the day. He nods to her arm, "You got someone to see to it?" Tela glances down at it, and doesn't shrug, very carefully does not shrug; "What's to see to? I don't like it, and it's going to turn awful colors, but it's not like it's anything unusual. Or at least it wasn't, back when I was flying with the wings," with Boreal, with Savannah, and briefly she looks ever so wistful. But, "How bad did it have to be before you got whatever-it-was seen to, back before?" T'gar caught that wistful look with a lift of a brow. "Miss it, huh?" that for her mentioning the wings. Then to answer her question, he leans back and answers, "What, any of my injuries? It depended on the injury. If it's one that's driving me insane right away, I'll get it seen to. Otherwise, I'll try to see to it myself." "I do. But then, I had the best wing ever," Telavi sighs. "So what sorts of injuries drive you insane? Other than, I don't know, something dripping blood into your face so you can't even see, or your leg dangling by a tendon," her dimple shows momentarily. "And do you have even a tiny idea, yet, what you want in a wing?" "Which was?" Rat asks on the best wing ever. "Breaking my nose over and over drove me insane," he answers her after a pause to think about it. "Stab wounds aren't so fun, either. Do you get injured a lot helping us weyrlings?" As for wings and the future, there's an even longer pause for this one along with a slight furrowing of his brow as he looks over the rim of the Weyr. "I'd like a wing where I could be somebody," he admits boldly. Meeting her gaze head on, "I aim to be someone in this Weyr. Not sure how I'll get there, but, it's something I want. I suppose whatever wing that would help get me there's alright with me." "Savannah," comes with the predictable emphasis. "Oh, Boreal was fine to begin with, but it all changes when the wingleader changes," Telavi warns. "Not injured a lot a lot, but more this sort of thing, my foot stepped on-- for some reason, people like the left one-- the odd strain. No stab wounds," and there's the almost dimple, hovering there before she sobers. "Someone like... someone with a title? 'Wingleader T'gar,' without the Flurry part?" "The wing from Monaco, I read," Rat whistles, nodding. "Nice. Heard interesting things about that wing. "When we graduate, do you go back to a wing? The Weyrlingmaster, too?" he asks now. As for his aspirations, there's a nod for it along with a, "That's right. Wingleader. Maybe more than that. It's why I've been busting my ass with this weyrling wing stuff. Maybe it'll turn out to shit, but, at least I've tried, right?" Interesting things mean briefly-pursed lips, not elaborating but suggesting possible, teasing truth. "Wingleader.. or weyrlingmaster?" Telavi wonders instead, only half tongue in cheek. "Are you after Quinlys...' time off? Because, yes, she does get it off between clutches, and well she should, rest and recuperate and all. Ordinarily I'd go back, because Savannah, but it's gone... but then again, with two clutches right in a row, you'd think we'd get a break for a while. Trying is good, and they will look at that, what you get done." With a look, "Can you honestly see me wrangling a bunch of snot-nosed weyrlings?" Rat asks Telavi, a touch wry. "And anyway, Red-Quinlys seems to have that on lock-down. She's a good weyrlingmaster. Is the weyrlingmaster not in a wing, then? What other wing would you like next to Savannah?" He nods on the last, even though there's an uncertainty to the motion. "Maybe. How does getting tapped work, anyway? Will the wingleaders come to us? Do I go to them?" "Why yes, yes I can," and Telavi has quite the bright and sunny smile, that only amplifies for 'Red.' "You could work under her," she suggests. "Potentially. If she likes you. No, she's not in a wing. I," there's barely a pause, "haven't decided what I want yet; nothing's the same. For tapping, the wingleaders will decide. You can work hard, do the silver thread thing, bring yourself to their attention in a good way," brown-nose, "get the wingleader to actually like you, and-- I speak from experience here-- still they will negotiate and maybe throw darts and basically everything's up in the air." "I don't see how," Rat makes a face to Telavi's answer on him being weyrlingmaster. "And anyway, she wouldn't approve of me working under her, considering the fact that she knows how I want to bang her." It's given matter-of-fact. "More than, even," he adds. "It would be too awkward. For her. Not a fan of brown-nosing," he adds now with a snort, "but, I'm willing to play good rider for a few useful wingleaders. I figured I won't have any influence in what wing takes me in the end, though. Still got time for all of that. Heard some of my clutchmates all gabbing about flights lately," he says with an amused look. "Because you're doing it right-- T'gar," and Telavi just laughs, though not exactly with surprise. "The thing about playing good rider," she informs him, "is that you have to be able to keep it up. Do you think you can do that, long enough to impress a man? Not to segue into flights, or anything." "True," Rat concedes to her with a nod on being a good rider. "I am willing to do it long enough. I've got the stamina, ma'am, I can promise you that," and there's at least a charming smile attached to that boast before he lets it drop and he adds, "It could all blow up in my face, but I'm willing to accept that, too. I'll take the risk. Whatever happens. I even think Asaroth's onboard with it." Telavi glances skyward, then down towards the lake for the scabrous bronze; not only is he longer than Solith by now, but bulkier by far. "Who'd have thought that, back in the beginning," she muses; she doesn't speak of K'del, nor of Niahvth. Looking towards the lake himself where Asaroth lounges, "He still is.....difficult," Rat admits on his bronze as he watches him. "Not very friendly. I don't know how he's going to charm any greens or queens. But he's onboard at least. Have you seen him fly lately?" he looks to Telavi now. "He's gotten better. Don't want to brag, but, he's getting better everyday." "It doesn't always take charming," and Telavi should know, given the momentary wrinkle to her nose. "I have seen, of course I have, and-- Niahvth, are you thinking Niahvth?" the name comes out now. "There's very few bronzes that look like him," Rat says matter-of-factly. "I don't remember seeing their names winning anything. Niahvth? Maybe," he considers, his gaze taking in the greenrider. "Other queens, too. Greens, too. If not charming, do you mean speed? Strength?" "'Being in the right place at the right time' sounds so obvious, but it's not, not really. Some of us don't exactly flaunt it," unlike Solith, who suns and glows even before her hide does. Tela heaves a little sigh. "Agility helps, reading the currents, reading them and each other. Or so I hear. But, T'gar? If you do ever catch anyone, I want you to be nice." Something Telavi says has Rat asking her, "How often does Solith goes up?" And well, her words must resonate since he goes silent, the weyrling seeming to take in her words with a pensive crease of his brows up until the last. The last has him putting a hand to his heart with, "Nice? I'm nice! When haven't I been to you? Though I should be asking nice how," comes belatedly once the hand drops. "A few times a Turn," and Tela even does that wavy 'more or less' hand thing, but she doesn't linger; no, more important is, "Not me, them. After the banging! Be nice. This is important. No laughing, no snorting, and definitely no ugh-ing. It's okay to run away if you want to, but it's not okay to run screaming. Are you with me here?" "Wait," Rat's waving a hand at her, at something she says. "Wait. Why would I want to run away, or laugh or do anything of that? Does....something else happen...besides the fucking...?" He might look a little bit horrified. Just a smidge. "Is there a reason I should be screaming?" Those green-today eyes widen, distinctly mischievous for a long moment, before Telavi takes pity on him; "No, not besides, though it was tempting to put you on. I mean, dragon goggles, they're more blinding than beer goggles or whiskey goggles or whatever, what do you think you'd do if you wound up in a poor shriveled guy old er than your grandfather with no teeth?" "You're teasing me, aren't you." Rat eyes Telavi before letting a smile come forth. The last though, "I...Asaroth wouldn't..." Now he's even glaring in the bronze's direction. "I can hold him back, right? Shit, knowing him, he would do something like that to me." He shakes his head and pins her with a look before he asks, "Can they be held back?" "Kind of? Sometimes? If you get the jump on them especially? No teeth, greasy hair and ink on his back that says 'F'lar Forever,'" Telavi warns. "Really, you should talk to Q or J'vain or C'ris or someone like that. But anyway, be nice. Don't share around what they look like in the middle of it, or even your best guess; even if she's the hottest girl who ever walked the planet, that doesn't mean she necessarily wants thirds, or seconds; don't whine; and don't steal her stuff. Or his stuff. Okay?" Nodding, "So, I have to be nice," Rat summarizes this slowly. "I can't spill anything like the the girl has blue-dyed chest hair or anything like that....I can't asked to be fucked more than once.....and I can't take their only brush - even if it's the best brush I've ever seen in my entire life." One can be sure that's not how Telavi had said it. All joking aside though, "I will try," is what he says to all of that. "I can't promise about the brush, though. Poor weyrling that I am." "Well, you can ask," Telavi says with a bit of a sniff, teasing or no teasing. "Just respect it. And no, no blue-dyed chest hair, though you can ask," that asking again, "where she got the dye if you really want to do yours," is definitely on the teasing end. "I think it would be a good look for you, Rat, as long as you leave the brush alone. Pretend it's giving you the brush off." "Ha ha," T'gar says with an aimed nudge at Telavi's good arm. "There's only one girl I'm willing to dye my chest hair blue for. It's a shame you won't let me have a brush. You're breaking my heart, ma'am." There's a smile anyway, the weyrling pushing off from the ledge to straighten. "Thanks for looking out for me, though," he tells her evenly with a nod. "Trying to keep me honest. I would have been a reckless ass without you." Telavi gives him a doe-eyed, reproachful look for that. And then her eyes widen that little bit more, considering him, perhaps searching for sincerity; "Well," she says finally. "We do try. Is there anything else you have questions about, right now? Not having to do anything too desperate to get everyone up more or less on time?" "I think we're up to date," Rat answers with a flash of a grin. "I'm sure I'll have more soon. Whatever ones from Asaroth that he doesn't want to ask himself. I don't want to take up all of your time, ma'am." "Then you're free to go. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon! Even if it's working!" Tela reaches out, with her good hand, to try and flick the silver thread in his knot before sitting back with a little sigh. The sun, it is shining. Perhaps, just perhaps, that pair squabbling down there where Solith can see will come to T'gar first. "Oh yeah, enjoy. Until next time, ma'am," Rat says expressively to that, moving away so that Solith can arrive and take him back down to the bowl. |
Leave A Comment