Logs:Breaking What Doesn't Need Fixing
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| RL Date: 9 May, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, Iesaryth, N'hax, Jhorinth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani and N'hax discuss the joys of leadership and his future plans. Iesaryth and Jhorinth discuss politics. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A layer of gray clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, C'wlin/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions |
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| Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.
It's coming toward the end of the day, not that it's much of one compared to the all-too-quickly passed summer. The skies are cloudy, the air is damp - this is the High Reaches we all know and love! It might be no surprise that the weather seems to suit Aishani's mood for all that she's found her cherry-red coat to ward off the chill, making her a bright spot in the gloom - that's really all that's bright about her, expression on the dour side of neutral, dark gaze made black in the failing light as she comes from the feeding grounds. Iesaryth, for her part, has lightened in past days, not even her vaunted memory enough to hold anything but the vague sense of a grudge - and now, as she lifts off and glides across the bowl to her ledge, is far too content with hunting and feeding to worry much about looking for the cause of it all. In the gloaming, N'hax is but a smudge of shadow. The big bronzeling is clad in mahogany leathers that do well to disguise the width of shoulders. His presence is likely felt or heard more rather than seen, coming up next to Aishani as he does; when he talks, his Telgar baritone is reflective and amused. "You'd think the sky had well-and-truly fallen." Above, Jhorinth's brilliance is a stark contrast to his rider's camouflage: the young dragon circles once and comes to light upon the bowl floor, taking a moment to scope out the surroundings with that perpetual watchfulness that marks his presence. Even in these moments, Aishani is nothing if not observant; something about the set of her shoulders indicates she's heard or sensed, and there's a slight lengthening of already-long steps that come with a sidelong glance as the Weyrwoman notes the height and identity of her companion both. Dryly, "Were you in my position, I expect that your mood might be similar." She doesn't even try to hide it - her queen's stormy skies were likely enough of a clue for any rider, and bad news travels fast, as they say, personal and political. As Iesaryth passes Jhorinth on the way to her ledge, there's a rumble and an accompanying sparkle of sun on water, still pleased with each one of hers simply for their existence. "Mmmm." N'hax's reply is noncommitant. "Perhaps it would be." A touch of apology implicit within his molasses-tones: "If there is anything I can do, of course." Even in casual conversation, he seems upright and balanced - one can almost *hear* the 'Smithcraft's regards' that should be a rightful extension of the comment aforementioned. But there is no Smithcraft nor regards, only N'hax in the dark and Jhorinth responding to his dam with a frisson of whetstone's whisper in greeting. It's well enough that there's no apology voiced. It's not like the weyrling really did anything, for all that bronzeriders in general might be causing Aishani issues this particular month. With a little purse of her lips that nearly turns into a smirk as she gives N'hax an up-and-down look that might be flirty from other women, but from her, is more assessing, "Not unless you're prone to violence, no. But I appreciate the offer. And I suppose that might get you in trouble, yes? I don't think Weyrwoman trumps Weyrlingmaster in matters of training." It's not entirely serious, by her tone. Not entirely. And Iesaryth, ever polite, will ask the things that require asking; « You are well? » Them both, of course. "I'm sure if you asked Quinlys nicely, she'd let me off the hook. Who do you need beaten up?" N'hax endures the assessment as only a person extremely confident in their skin (or just a dumb man, take your pick!) can hold up. "Or is this not a //who//? Forgive me," apology extended now specific: "I've been up to my ears in hidework for the last few sevens." And chasing after half-grown semi-adults screaming about how buckles are IMPORTANT people, IMPORTANT for dumb things like survival but who cares about that? Jhorinth... probably doesn't. The hollow-voiced sound of forge bellows gives a vaguely Darth Vader-esque backdrop to his smooth-toned reply: « We are well, » stated with pride. « You and yours? » Wryly, "I'm sure if Quinlys agreed with me, she might not mind either. And that remains to be seen, the who. It is, in fact, a who - or multiple whos." Aishani can confirm that easily enough, sliding hands into her pockets with a little shrug. "Don't apologize, N'hax. I remember having little time or attention for much beyond the necessary. Though the wings will be important soon, they're not as important as... everything you're doing." Which is to say, yes, survival is key. And Jhorith's pride is reflected in Iesaryth's waves, content with that answer - she can see he is well. Her answer takes a bit longer. Eventually, « It has not been the best of times. But it will get better. » "A point of disagreement, is it?" N'hax's gaze rests lightly upon the weyrwoman, but he doesn't press past the single inquisitive. He makes another nonword reply for the survival-is-key line of thought. "He's getting bigger." Yes, everyone, N'hax is a fucking genius. "It seems as though the larger he becomes, the more free time I have." Read: N'hax is ENTIRELY okay with Jhorinth growing up. Speaking of, the bronzelet - mini-bronze? - replies with a swirl of pot-metal in quench: a low sizzle. « There is much conflict, » he replies, « But all will work for the best. Humans make things unsufferably complicated. » It's all humanity's fault, see. "It always is," Aishani tells N'hax, far more wearily than she ought for her turns. She's younger than him, even - for all that she certainly doesn't act like it. "I read that C'wlin has been leading one of the wings the month past? I'm sure he's already mentioned that you can't please everyone." But as the bronzerider turns to less... divisive topics, she's content to do so, even finding a slight smile for him, for Jhorinth. "You'd think they'd finish sooner than later. But it does become more of a routine, easier to deal with. Do you have plans for your free time?" As for Iesaryth, she can agree with that... more or less. « Generally, it is the humans. But there are dragons that enjoy... problems, if only for the mental stimulation. » Ahem. « But we are certainly less complex. » A twitch of lips. "He has indeed," N'hax confirms of C'wlin. "I should know," in side-note, "Since I've been his wingsecond." He can't keep the hilarity really off his face: amusement creases at the corners of eyes, tugs at the sides of his mouth. N'hax has seen enough of the world - and done enough within it - to not give the office the same gravitas that a younger weyrling would. At the drift of conversation, the man shakes his head, scruffs knuckles across the edge of a jaw. "I plan on catching up with everything that I have doubtless missed. I've a stack of schemas from the main hall that I've yet to go through." The //Smithcraft//? Well. At least he's... committed? « Well, » Jhorinth commits to his own line of conversation, « Some dragons are just jackasses. » His pragmatic viewpoint, of course: « But I don't see a green ever getting uppity about not being ranked as a gold. » Disapproval for the lack of human hierarchy rings clear. Only a little smug, "I did not hear that, but I am not surprised." Aishani is paying attention, see? Even if only through reports and through Iesaryth. "And how have you found that? Everything you dreamed it would be?" That's most definitely sarcastic, but she might be forgiven at the moment. Perhaps in general. Tilting a look up at N'hax, merely curious, "So you'll continue your work in your Craft? Please let me know how... amenable they are to that plan. I would hate to see it be an issue." But she'd like to know. And the queen must consider Jhorinth's viewpoint, of course, but she's quick to agree with the first: « Yes. » As for the rest, she is careful. « There is merit in experimentation at this time. However... I am unsure that this experiment at this time... » As for human hierarchy, she knows who's in charge: Aishani. To her, the rest is really details. "I've done very little dreaming of dragonwings," N'hax confesses to her sarcasm, his own comment matching a glance askance. "I'll be happy to be done with it. Not a single damned soul in this entire weyr seems to have a lick of common sense when safety gear come into play." Pause, correction, "Should come into play, that is." He shakes his head again. "My contact at the main hall has been... well, he hasn't said anything about me not being in the craft." And ominous absences of conversation totally mean that things are A-OK, no really. Stop laughing. Jhorinth: « Sounds like a bunch of political bullshit to me, » all brass tacks and disapproval remaining; « It worked before. Why are they always breaking what doesn't need fixing? » Amused, "Glad to hear you're trying to keep them alive, even if they're trying to kill themselves, apparently?" Shani arches fine brows the bronzerider's way, looking for confirmation and yet dreading it - please don't let them all be idiots. N'hax's way of putting his current standing with Smithcraft likewise raises her brows again, though there's some little sympathy there in her dark gaze, even if it's brief. "And no one here has said anything. I could see what the sense of things are at the Weyr. Even if the climate at the Hall isn't favorable, it might not matter." High Reaches is a long way away, after all. Iesaryth is amused by Jhorinth's statements, blunt though they may be, another bright sunbeam slanting off the waves. « Because it's there. » But no, it's not that simple: « Many reasons. But now, primarily, because of Arekoth. » Aishani blames him and his rider, why not go with it? "I don't think they have so much motivation to actually want to kill themselves," N'hax starts out, his voice slow and reasoned... before breaking into a grin. "They're good kids." Doesn't that express his entire viewpoint? They are, in the end, kids. He doesn't comment further about his situation with the craft, instead choosing to just shake his head and wave it off. "Whatever is to be," que sera, sera. "I do hope that your -- situation -- resolves itself, Aishani." His eyes are dark and watchful in the gloom, but amused for it all. "If you ever change your mind on the rent-a-thug." That brief comic relief tossed out, he offers a subdued salute and heads towards his lifemate. Jhorinth flashes disapproval towards his dam, this time, a white-hot surge of light and muted, ringing sound. « Arekoth is a good dragon. » His farewell mindtouch is brief, and full of censure: stop trying to undermine Dad's streetcred, Mom. "They'll figure it out." Or they won't, and they'll die. But even Aishani doesn't go that far, just shrugging and offering a brief smile for that grin - they are, in fact, kids. She purses her lips a touch as N'hax waves off her help which is not offered lightly (though, might be offered for ulterior motives, fair), but merely drops a nod the bronzerider's way. With a somewhat fatalistic tone, "One of the golds will rise sooner than later, I think. And that will resolve things... though perhaps not as definitively as they might have once been." Dark eyes brightening for the offer, "But in the meantime, I will let you know." She turns towards the other side of the bowl and the living cavern, likely headed for dinner. Ocean's tides are briefly lit, but the roar of waves rises against the ringing, shrill! Iesaryth doesn't apologize, but does let Jhorinth go without comment. No more negativity from her, for now. |
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