Logs:Big Kid's Table
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| RL Date: 12 November, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, K'del |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist asks K'del if he can sit at the big kid table again. |
| Where: Rider's Lounge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Super-backdated, because RL sucks. |
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| Riders' Lounge, High Reaches Weyr About as high up the bowl wall as it is possible to get before hitting clear sky, right up against the rim, this ledge is tiny, narrow and not terribly inviting. Though angled towards the sun, there's not enough room to properly stretch out, and that same angle ensures it receives the worst of bad weather, with no shelter whatsoever. From above, there's not even an obvious passage inside, as if this particular ledge is, in the end, nothing more than a natural outcropping. It's only from atop the ledge itself that the cleverly concealed entrance becomes clear, angled into the stone as it is.
Were it not for the fact that it's probably not advisable for the Weyrleader to be gone from the Weyr too often - particularly given his absence during certain events - this meeting would probably be taking place elsewhere; somewhere where it isn't snowing, maybe. With that not really an option, however, at least K'del has opted out of the heavy formality of the council chambers, and instead selected the presently-closed-because-it's-early-morning riders' lounge. Tonight's one of the nights when it won't be open, and thus, the place is quiet: it leaves K'del free to sit up on the bar, swinging his legs in as wide of an arc as he can, given space constraints. With Lythronath having slackened his guard on the Weyr's remaining queen, he and A'rist probably would've been fine with getting out and about. As is, when the bronze lands on the ledge, he at least doesn't seem overly irritable. « Blood, » to Cadejoth, might be taken as greeting and asking to be excused all at once. Except for the part where he's already airborne when the word is delivered with a headbutt of mental presence. A'rist looks wary when he enters, warier when K'del's feet make the first full swing that the younger bronzerider can see. "Umm," is pretty honest. "Sir," is maybe a safe fallback? « And guts and gore! » perhaps even counts as permission; Cadejoth's not bothered, in any case, not when this means he can return to his otherwise uninterrupted survey of the Weyr below. "A'rist," is K'del's greeting, who shows no sign of ceasing the swing of his feet. "Come sit. Seems we were due for a catch-up, mm?" And then... well, everything. A'rist doesn't say 'umm', or even 'hmm', though his mouth opens and closes, like as if to make one or the other of those sounds, lips pressing at each other. He wanders the remaining distance over to the bar, blinks once at K'del, and then turns, braces with his hands, and hop-lifts up onto the bar as well. Well, with half a butt-cheek hanging off, because, space. "Yeah. Yeah, seems like." In the pens, Lythronath creates mayhem. "So," prompts K'del. Clearly, he's waiting for A'rist to come up with something to say; that's how this kind of meeting works, right? When in doubt, make the other person do the talking! "So," repeats A'rist, giving one of his feet a testing swing - the foot farther away from K'del, of course. The younger rider stares at his knee a moment, while his dragon crushes and kills and squishes. "So," looking over to his weyrleader, decided, "I think it's time me and Lythronath didn't have to just... sit on the sidelines anymore. It's not good for us. As part of the Weyr. And there's no point in fucking up if you don't get to learn from it." This may have been pre-rehearsed on the way here. If A'rist weren't so worried, he might even manage a more mature look to go with his very mature tone of voice. But the twitching corner of his lips just doesn't quite let him pull it off. It's quiet, here in the lounge; quiet, when there's no one else here, and even the rattle in the pipe isn't - presently - singing with the wind. K'del's quiet, too, staring off towards the bend that leads back to the ledge rather than focusing upon A'rist. "And you've learned from it," he concludes, finally. "What do you see yourself doing? How far have you thought this through?" It takes a moment, but A'rist is able to nod with a bit more solemnity, once some of the nerves have died away. The nod gets repeated, but more firmly. Yes. Then, and separately, with both heels tucking in, tight, against the body of the bar, "I don't-" He waits a moment. He looks up at K'del, hard, after that. "I mean, there's.... there's got to be things that maybe could get handled better if there was maybe some pair that didn't... didn't feel things, like other people. Or dragons." He nearly slides himself forward on the bar, his legs are clenching so tight, heels digging so hard. "Could've probably fixed most of your pirate problem," is only slightly less tense. "Except for that one thing." "My pirate problem," says K'del, after another pause, "requires some delicacy." Which isn't to say there's not sympathy in his expression; which isn't to say he hasn't given a quick half-nod that may well be confirmation. "It's not that I'm not willing to use your strengths, A'rist." There's a but, though, even if he's not yet said it outright. A'rist presses his lips into a line, and gives his own short and maybe-a-little-more-than-half nod. "Strengths," gets repeated, a bit drolly. His legs have relaxed, a little bit. "I know," and he's started tapping his toes together, rotating at the ankles, in, out, slowly, "that it's this really, like... this line. And there's just fucking crazy on the other side." ... Tap. "Lythronath's just Lythronath, but I can do better. But not just with... Iceberg's drills, and sweeps, and drinking, and flying greens, and pretty much only keeping him from exploding. That's like looking down at your feet all the time." Which he's very much not doing. Now. This time, K'del slides down off the edge of the bar, the fabric of his trousers no doubt adding to the buff and polish of the wood. "If," he says, drawing his stride out into something long and loping, "I gave you more to do, could I trust you? To keep him - to keep both of you - under control?" He paces; it's slow, despite the length of that stride. "Would a different wing help?" That may be a completely different question, unrelated. Which leaves A'rist sitting up there, like a kid looking to his dad. The younger bronzerider first sits straighter, then, a moment later - when K'del voices his question - pushes off, boots dropping heavily. He stays where they've landed. "Yes." Strong and final. His head moves, watching the Weyrleader pace, but A'rist stays in place. "Our wing- even if we don't go to a better one, it's not going to mean we're going to lose control." Determination makes his jaw clench a bit at the end of that. K'del's nod answers that confirmation, and the conviction that comes with it, though he's slower to actually come up with another remark; it takes a few more paces around the empty tables, their chairs stacked on top of them, for that. "All right," he says. "Can't promise... well, we'll see what comes up. But if you want to visit High Reaches with me tomorrow, I'm interested in checking out the progress on my ships, and a second set of eyes and ears always helps." A'rist shifts his feet, but still doesn't join in the pacing. He's on the verge of opening his mouth when K'del speaks. So the younger rider clams back up, until, "Yessir." A quick nod of his own. "We'll be there." And a bit more awkwardly, with a shuffle and a concerted effort to keep his eyes up, "Thanks." "Mm," says K'del, as if by way of stopping himself from adding something about 'don't screw this up.' Which is, in fact, pretty likely. What he does instead is turn upon his heel so that he can look at A'rist, watching him for a few long seconds before he gives a quick, sharp nod. "You need something, A'rist, you say something. You hear?" A'rist starts to breathe out before he forms words, and, "Yessir," is preceded by what nearly turns into a sigh, though there's nothing in A'rist's face or posture to suggest it finds its root in any adolescent annoyance. He stays standing where he is, though his shoulders relax, faintly. And he nods again, confirmation. Now, K'del comes to a halt, wrapping his fingers around the bottom of an upturned chair, nudging it forward in an idle gesture. "Good," he says. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, mm? Be ready to go after breakfast." And A'rist will be. |
Comments
Azaylia (23:20, 12 November 2014 (EST)) said...
Aw yissss. Gettin' in some of that bronzerider mentoring time. ...Mostly I'm excited to see in which ways Lynner manages to get on Cadejoth's nerves. xD
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