Logs:Coming Forward
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| RL Date: 11 April, 2013 |
| Who: D'kan, Kazavoth, Olveraeth, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: D'kan left the weyrlingmasters a note. Quinlys deals with it... when she's not getting possessive, emotional, and defensive. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 6, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
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| Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr Made private by a thick, insulated door that blocks out most of the noise from the barracks beyond, the Weyrlingmaster's Office is a comfortable, quiet alcove. Instead of an imposing desk, much of the room is taken up by a large round table, with five chairs spaced around its edges. Beneath it is a square rug pieced together with twisted rags that stretches from wall to wall, just leaving room for the long bookshelves and filing cabinets. On the back wall, a tapestry of the Weyr's badge is hung, providing both insulation and decoration. In one corner sits a small green plant, growing strong despite the lack of sunlight in this windowless room. Beside it rests a tea cart, prepped and ready. It's a couple of days after that note arrives when, shortly after classes end for the day, Olveraeth reaches out for Kazavoth. « We'd like to talk to yours, » says the blue, his mindtouch rich with the rainbow clouds of distant nebulae. « When he has a moment. In the office? He's not in trouble. » In the office, Quinlys is standing behind the table, her back to the door. She's staring-- moodily, with shoulders slumped-- at the tapestry up on the wall, as if she expects to find wisdom in the blue-and-black Weyr badge, or perhaps in the stone that surrounds it. Kazavoth must have relayed Olveraeth's message pretty quickly, because it's only moments later that D'kan knocks on the office door before stepping in. "Kaz said you wanted to see me," he says quietly, voice calm, even mellow. He glances at that tapestry for a moment, but then his full attention switches back to the weyrlingmaster. Kazavoth, meanwhile, is just outside in the cavern, close enough that his dark brown head might be seen before D'kan blocks it out. Quinlys turns, moments after the sound of that knock, blue-eyed gaze taking in both D'kan and Kazavoth, though it's the former who earns most of her attention. The moodiness doesn't disappear, but she does straighten her stance, indicating the chairs around the table with a sharp bob of her head. "They're getting too big to get in here, now, I guess," she remarks, in lieu of a proper greeting, as she steps back to the table, and to the chair nearest her. The note is sitting in front of it, alone on the otherwise empty table. "Too big to get into most places." Abruptly, then: "We got your note. It was yours, wasn't it?" "It's all right, his audience is out there anyway," D'kan answers with a small, crooked smile as he gently closes the door. Sure enough, the last glance of Kazavoth shows him heading off to join some of his brethren, though there is a last lingering thought left for Olveraeth, more sensation than anything distinct, a drifting wash of color not unlike the day's clouds. D'kan moves around to sit in one of the indicated chairs. He hesitates for a fraction of a second while in the process of settling in, his dark eyes settling on Quinlys' face, likely picking up on the mood right about now. "If it's the one about our links with our dragons, then yes," he answers simply as he rests his fists on his thighs. "His audience," says Quinlys, with an abrupt laugh, one she makes no effort to explain. Nor does even that laugh completely remove her mood, though at least she seems willing to moderate it into something more thoughtful as she moves to rest her forearms upon the table. "That one," she confirms, shifting back to that other topic. "And, let me just say, first off, that the situation at Fort is... different, and more complicated, but we're not dismissing your concern. But," and she lifts her chin, a gesture that is so easy to identify, for most, as being part of her I'm-in-charge routine. "I guess I'd like to understand more about your reasons. Are you unsure about your bond with Kazavoth? Or are you concerned on soemone else's behalf?" "Different, sure," D'kan allows, "but the fact is that kid ended up Between, and with all the different, well..." He pauses, then shrugs. "Control is control. Better to learn while we can't end up in a pool of our dragons' ichor. Or worse." His left leg fidgets slightly, just a simple bouncing on the ball of the foot. He glances toward the closed office door. "Kaz and I had some growing pains. But for the most part, we mesh all right," he answers, voice slightly hesitant. Turning back to Quinlys, his eyes narrow a degree. There's another moment's hesitation before he continues. "I have nothing but hearsay. But someone who isn't a weyrling mentioned that someone who is was getting headaches from their dragon. And that didn't seem right to me, so... if it's fixable... great. Better now than later, right?" To Quinlys, Olveraeth's touch is a warning, littered with stars. Careful, Quin. Careful. Quinlys' shudder, at this more concrete mention of what happened at Fort, is obvious, and yet not especially exaggerated: she seems genuinely discomforted by it, and this seems to fuel the nod that follows. "I won't argue that. Control is important." She exhales, eyes still intently studying D'kan. "And if you did have a problem, you'd come and talk to Meara or I, or Lina, or J'vain, or someone." It's not a question. "Like this other person should. Or, perhaps, already has." Her mouth is drawn in, making it look as though she's been sucking on a lemon. Her words, and her tone, edge on begrudging. "No, of course. Better now than later. Honestly, we do appreciate that you came forward. We're going to try and talk with everyone, one on one, and make sure things are fine." D'kan takes in a deep breath, then nods, smiling again. "Good. That..." He trails off, edging to the side slightly on his chair. "It feels like tattling, kind of. Just... could never stand knowing someone's hurting and not at least try--," but he finishes the sentence with a shrug and shifts again, slouching back slightly against the chair. "Are the headaches normal? For Kaz and me, aside from the whole foreign presence in my head, and all that... it's been so natural." This is more certain ground: ground where Quinlys gets to be an authority figure, the one with all the information. The abrupt transformation in her demeanor is obvious-- she straightens, she smiles. "Normal? No. I'm not sure there is such a thing as 'normal', not really. Every pair is different. But it's not abnormal, either. There was a weyrling who developed a rash, like hives or something, after Impression, because of his green. Others... Olly and I were easy, too. Just slotted right in together. I don't know that it's tattling, not really. Meara and I," she's quick to take ownership, "were really proud that you were willing to come forward. It's... taking responsibility. Stepping up." D'kan gives a single, uncomfortable roll of a shoulder at the last bit as he gives Quinlys a quick side glance before studying the desk. It's apparently fascinating. "Well, the other person, the non-weyrling, would have had a harder time of it," he says, frowning before he turns back to the weyrlingmaster. "How's a rider supposed to be effective if he's fighting headaches every time his dragon tries talking to him?" And that apparent fascination? It fascinates Quinlys in turn, and sets a musing look into her expression. Unfortunately, the question D'kan aims at her seems to bring about a partial return of her earlier petulance - if, indeed, that's what it is and was - and has her drawing her lips together into a thin, tight line. "Obviously, he's not. Or she. It's... generally a matter of finding a balance, of working through communication issues until you can reach a common ground. It happens. We'll sort it out." D'kan nods a couple times, gaze falling from Quinlys' face to the edge of the desk nearest him. "I'd been thinking, maybe if we sat in groups and shared, sort of... what works for each of us and what doesn't..." He stops, then frowns before shirting on the chair again and looking up at Quinlys once more while his boots scuff against the floor. "Might be easier to share, maybe. Feels less like... failing something, I guess, and more like sharing something." The line of Quinlys' lips tightens further, but even she, with whatever it is that is bothering her over all of this, has to hesitate before answering, and look thoughtful and interested when she does. "I suppose," she says, finally, "you could do that with weyrlingmasters rotating around, rather than... formally facilitating. So we're not in your faces. Sharing with each other, but at least it gets it out in the open." Something in her tone gives the impression of reluctant approval. "But we could give suggestions. Encouragement." "It's such a personal sort of thing," D'kan replies, sounding like he agrees, though to which part? He rubs the palm of his right palm against his thigh, but it's an idle sort of moment. "What if it were... a big class first. Cover some of the basics. The big concerns, that sort of thing," he begins before frowning up at Quinlys. "Gives us a good chance to talk about it amongst ourselves, you know? And... if stuff comes up, there's lots of us to recommend them to you." To Quinlys, Olveraeth projects, « Quin. Quin. Don't do this. Be smart. » His touch is warm, intended to be supportive and comforting. « It's not a bad idea. Think it through. Logically. » Quinlys opens her mouth, looking rather as though she's about to argue, or perhaps just simply declare the idea invalid. Then, abruptly, she straightens, and gives a more professional nod. Deep breath. "That... could work," she allows, shifting one arm so that she can scratch at the opposite forearm. Her, "I mean, it isn't as though we haven't covered a lot of this," is blustery, and so-obviously a defensive, emotional response rather than anything logical. "But I suppose we can recap, and extend now, rather than later. All right. We'll give it a try." "And... now we're nearly four months into having to use that link with our dragons," D'kan counters as his frown deepens, gaze directly focused on Quinlys face again, especially after the emotional defensive. "What started as 'How not to freak out with your brand new baby dragon' could be more of a... 'How to work with your dragon', instead." He sits up from the slouch and pushes his fists against his thighs. "I just think... I mean, it feels like..." But whatever it feels like, he's not quite able to put into words just yet, though his knuckles seem primed to drill through the canvas of his trousers. "I see a lot of folks fighting their dragons all the time. I get it's different for everyone, but shells. Why would a dragon pick someone to fight against for their whole life? It doesn't make sense!" He's apparently found some words, and gestures with a quick sweep of one hand. "Too many people who have no sharding concept of what a team is. Much less how to teach their dragon what it means." To Quinlys, Olveraeth's touch is abruptly red-hot, star-stuff burning, like a brand: a deliberate shock to the system. « Be smart. Take a breath. Stop. He's right, and you know it. » Quinlys' mouth opens, and she shifts, as if she's about to stand, and, perhaps, shout. Or argue. Or something. And then there's that look in her eyes, the one that so many riders get when talking to their dragons; her eyes close, and finally, one long, deep breath later, she nods. "You'll be a Wing, soon," she says, in a carefully controlled voice. "Once you're all in the air together. With Wingleaders, and Wingseconds, and a chain of command that we sit outside of." Blue-eyed gaze turns back towards D'kan, abruptly more even-- more sure. "You're right." It's gentler, this time, and quieter. "It doesn't make sense, and it can't work like that. You do need to be a team with your dragons, and you need to be a team with each other." She lifts her hand, running her fingers through her hair, tangling them. "You have to trust each other, too. And us." "Exactly," D'kan says, first emphatically, then repeated with a little less vehemence as he starts to relax. "Exactly. I mean... okay, I'm starting to get that Kaz and I got it easy," he continues, far less intensity in his expression as he gives Quinlys a faint grin. "Part of it's Kazavoth, for sure. And it's not like he's always easy, either. Sharding drama queen half the time. But part of it's where I came from, I think. Relying on other folks. Comes easier for me than, say... a guy who's only ever known a Craft, or something. Or a job where you just work by yourself all day. If they never had to learn what it's like to trust, then this is where they're starting, and we've gotta... gotta all act more like... like family sometimes." The corners of Quinlys' mouth twitch several times before, finally, she manages an actual smile, albeit a cautious one. "You're probably right," she confirms, after swallowing. "Like a family. Yes, exactly. Doesn't mean you like everyone, or necessarily agree all the time, but you learn to trust them. And work with them, not against them." The fingers in her hair tighten, effectively tugging at the red curls. "You, and the others who are better at this, who have more experience, can help by showing the way. As much as you can, anyway." D'kan's own smile comes a little more easily now as he shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know about more experienced. We all impressed on the same day," he says in a light drawl that makes his smile a little lopsided. "But... yeah. I know there are a few who don't even know much what a family feels like, but it's not too late." One of his boot heels scuffs against the floor slightly as he considers the weyrlingmaster for a few seconds longer. "It really burns when someone doesn't come to you, doesn't it." To Quinlys, Olveraeth is amused. « It's a good point, isn't it? Are you frustrated because he's got ideas you didn't? Or because people aren't coming forward? Or is it just because Isath's made you deal with this? » To Olveraeth, Quinlys projects, « You shut up. » "At least when you Impress... you know you're never going to be alone again. And the Weyr will always look after you." It's not that simple - nothing ever is - but it seems to satisfy Quinlys, even as it leaves her looking thoughtful. It's his last statement, though, that has her swallowing audibly, her whole body tensing. Tense-- and then released. "Yes," she says, simply. "What the fuck is the point of suffering in silence? For pride? For-- what? It's a waste of everyone's time, when it can be fixed." "Sorry, that wasn't a jab at you," D'kan says quickly as he shifts on the chair again. "I just know the feeling, that's all. Just like to help. And it hurts knowing someone else hurts but won't..." He trails off while waving a hand limply. "Pride. Fear is probably a bit part of it, too. But then, pride is just a form of fear, isn't it?" "No," says Quinlys, quickly. "I know it wasn't." She lets go of her hair, finally, but only so that she can scrub at her face, instead. Even behind her hands, her nod is visible. Her words, when they come, are quietly muffled. "Yeah. Exactly. That's why I do this job, you know?" There's probably more to it than this, and that much is probably visible in the guilt so-obvious on her expression when she lowers her hands. Still, she's firm enough when she says, "It is, I think. Fear and pride, all part of the same thing. And it's not like I'm perfect--" The twist of her mouth suggests she's got some self-recrimination going on. "But shells. It's hard. So-- I am glad you came forward." D'kan takes a quick, deep breath, then lets it out as he nods to Quinlys. "Just hope it helps," he says in a low voice, flashing her a quick smile before he draws his feet toward his chair, boots scuffing against the floor again. "If, uh... if that's everything, ma'am, I think Kazavoth is torturing Khadrenoth with one of his newer compositions. Should probably distract him with a lap in the lake or something." Now, at least, Quinlys' smile is more genuine, if perhaps a little embarrassed for her own display of emotions. "No, of course. Go, distract him. We'll... get this all sorted out, I'm sure. One way or another." She chews on her lip for a moment, still looking at him - and then, with a nod: "Thanks." |
Comments
Aishani (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 12 Apr 2013 05:22:20 GMT.
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I liked Quinlys' struggles with herself and D'kan's reasonableness. Fun scene.
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 12 Apr 2013 05:42:16 GMT.
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Ooh...if Quin and Alida would've approached each other like this... things might've been different. Pride...one of Alida's best and worst points. :)
Leova (Varied (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 12 Apr 2013 06:14:08 GMT.
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I loved seeing Quinlys' struggles too. A lot of the time, a character gets into a position like a WLM's and they wind up being all efficient and perfect-ish. As for D'kan, he doesn't come up with some One True Perfect Solution either, but he has solid ideas, and it was great seeing how he negotiated with (an) authority.
K'zin (Wakizian (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 12 Apr 2013 06:43:56 GMT.
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Much enjoyed. Very dynamic and realistic scene. :D
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 14 Apr 2013 00:13:28 GMT.
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Olveraeth may sound like Sagan, but he acts more like Quinlys' Jiminy Cricket. I'm just glad she listens. It's great to see what her initial reactions are, the defensiveness and the want to argue. D'kan was also great, and I love how... grounded he seems. Mature suggestions, and the fact that he does care really comes through. :3
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