Logs:Confidence and Purpose
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| RL Date: 20 January, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Ghena, Knioth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ghena's not wearing her Silver Thread anymore. G'laer wants to know things. There are a lot of words and even some feelings. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 11, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated to a few days after Logs: The Return of a Thread. |
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| « Hey! Hey Knioth! » As if the first 'hey' might not have gotten his attention even though Teisyth's mind spoke directly to him. « It's Teisyth, » She might earn her title of peasant some days. « G'laer wants t'know if Ghena'll meet him for a beer. » Yep, that's really what she wants to know, now that drills are over and dinner is done with. There's a sense that G'laer already awaits in Snowasis, so hopefully, Ghena will say yes. « He even says he'll buy. » Which, if you go by the sensation in the green's mind, is a big honkin' deal. (To Knioth from Teisyth) The sleepy rumble of hooves, disorganized and disjointed, the flash of sun on steel as though the young knight were rousing himself for a great battle. « She is working at the moment, but we can be down shortly. » He clearly does not seem enthused by the idea of interrupting his nap. (To Teisyth from Knioth) To Knioth, Teisyth is oblivious. « Great!! » Her cheery answer comes. Cheery because that'll make G'laer happy. Or... well, if not happy exactly, something that isn't unhappy anyway. Either way, he'll wait.
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
Ghena looks all business today, smartly tailored leathers recently oiled and still smelling of saddle soap, her hair tied back from her face and neatly ordered. Spotting her brother as she enters from the garden ledge, she moves in his direction. "I know you don't drink, so I admit to being curious about exactly why you are offering to buy beer big brother." Grinning despite the fact that Knioth likely complained the entire way down. "As it happens, I do. Just not as often as I used to." G'laer answers, reaching to tip his half-emptied glass so she can indeed see that there is a dark amber colored liquid in it. "You don't survive being nicknamed Lager without alcohol." It's a statement, and a nickname that certainly isn't one granted by the family and likely never heard in their vicinity. He doesn't explain it further though, instead making a gesture to offer Ghena the bench across from him before his eyes settle on a server and remain there until the server takes in his glance and heads their way. "But there is a purpose to my asking you here." That's as much as he gets out before the server is there to take Ghena's order. The world is full of skeptics. Consider Ghena one of them, from the way she eyes her brother. "I gathered there was a purpose, you rarely do much without a precise purpose." Sitting down she orders a cider with a practiced smile for the waiter. "I haven't done anything out of line in a while, so I have no idea what that reason might be though." Leaning back and stretching out somewhat leisurely. "True." G'laer agrees of his general practices. His azurite eyes track her movements, as though he might garner answers to his unasked questions just by watching. "No." He further agrees with her assessment that she hasn't done anything out of line. Whatever answers he wants don't seem to be given in her stretch or her lean, so he asks, direct, as ever, "Why don't you have a Silver Thread anymore?" "Not ready for it." Matter of factly, as the cider arrives. Thanking the waiter with a smile, she lifts the glass studying the contents. "I wasn't when it was assigned, but I'm mature enough now to realize as much. I need to focus a lot more on learning how to be a good team mate before I start trying to lead the team. Quinlys seemed surprised, but she understood when I handed it in, and seemed to respect my decision." G'laer watches Ghena as she speaks, and likely, there are many levels of assessment going on behind the unreadable expression. There's silence, and staring. And more silence. And then, "I think you're wrong." Simple. Eyebrows go up, before surprise naturally melts into something more undefinable. "Interesting to hear you of all people say so. All things considered." She pulls from the glass, Hazel eyes drifting to focus on those coming and going. "Of the two of us you were always better suited to it." The admission comes softly. "Why would you say that? Considering which things?" The first is his question, the second is a matter of clarification. G'laer takes up his mug then and his swallows are of someone who means business, but then if Ghena's ever seen him eat (which she probably has at some point), this is normal - inhaling food or drink like there mightn't be time to have it in the next minute that follows. When the mug is set back down, it's lighter, but not empty. "I know how to lead because I've been leading men for almost nine turns." It's another statement of fact, not a brag, not even an explanation, just, 'there it is.' "There are always challenges, bigger and more daunting in the beginning than as you get further along." Beat. "Why did you back down from those challenges?" Evidently her earlier explanation isn't in depth enough for him. "You have always seemed to be of the opinion that I lack maturity." Visibly she shrugs, "Who says I'm backing down from challenges? Maybe I'm just choosing to take a little slower road, besides I have to be able to govern myself and my dragon first. Otherwise what kind of example am I setting?" She shifts her gaze back to study him thoughtfully. "Why don't you have your thread?" "And how do you suppose one gains maturity?" G'laer responds to the first without challenging the point. A single brow arches as though the question in itself provides an answer as he gazes at her with his otherwise serious expression. "I say. You're backing down from challenges." There, see? He said it. "It is good to be able to govern oneself," He doesn't comment on the dragon aspect for reasons that might become clear, "But this is the right setting to take on those challenges. It's a setting where you have a safety net. The weyrlingmasters are there to make sure your decisions are sound, to give you the practice, to let you make mistakes without dire consequences. And you can be learning about yourself through those experiences. But if you give up, you miss out on all of those opportunities." And for some reason, this seems to bother him. There's audible agitation in his voice. There's a brief glance to his shoulder, "Teisyth and I need to focus on our weaknesses. Leadership isn't one of them. Flaming is. Betweening very well could be as well." While others have started making jumps, Teisyth and G'laer have not. Beat. "She won't stop adding flowers to our visualizations." Briefly, his look is frustrated and he picks up his mug again. A breath in, a breath out, a beat and then "It's already done, If you wanted to argue the opposing viewpoint, you should have done so before I handed it back in. " Her mouth pressing to a line, "The safety net is faltering, we start shadowing the wings soon. I have to focus on what that means. I never wanted to be a leader G'laer, I did the work because you helped me with the academics and because Quinlys asked me to at least try it. I did, and you know what? I don't get on well with most of the other weyrlings. I wouldn't even begin to know how to deal with A'rist and his bronze or you and your betweening issues." Ok, she smirks about the flowers, if it weren't such a serious issue she'd probably giggle incessantly. "We are a mashed up bunch with no sense of direction, and I'm not the person to bring it together. It's that simple." "So un-do it." G'laer answers, frowning. "If I'd known you were planning to, I'd've said something before." He leans forward, directing a hard look to the younger girl, "You're right. About most of that. We are a motley crew that don't get on together. We are not a cohesive team no matter how many times they tell us we ought to be. We're individuals learning what we need to learn to be done and get out into the real wings. Not a single one of us has been able to unite us all, and not one of us is going to be able to because too many people don't want it. Leaders don't do the fixing of problems, they facilitate and enable others to fix their own problems. Someone struggling with betweening? You set up extra betweening practice. Someone have a headstrong and violent dragon? You set up some kind of exercise that exhausts the dragon by sundown so there aren't any incidents. Leaders don't do, they lead, which is to say they control the situation, they create opportunity, and they help process failings so it doesn't happen twice. And you are capable of all of that." There's a breath as he leans even more forward, "Do you know what your real problem is?" Surely, this will have the conversation going somewhere good. Especially since they know each other so well! That leaves her blinking at him. Really blinking at him, she doesn't really know what to say to that. Although clearly he's more suited to it than she is, though something nags at the back of her brain. "Let's hear it, you are buying the drinks after all." Goes without venom as she takes another swig. "You lack confidence." G'laer delivers it simply. He's not saying it to be mean, he just says it. "You talk yourself into thinking you can't do things, that your focus is better used elsewhere, when really, you're just scared. Scared to grow up. Scared to be responsible. Scared of not having the answers when you want them." The man is still leaned forward, his look intense, "Guess what. No one has all the answers, especially not when they want to have them. No one wants to be responsible if they can avoid it," That might even mean not even him, "And no one wants to grow up." This one comes more quietly than the rest and he's sitting back picking up his mug. "You're sixteen now. By all accounts, that makes you unquestionably an adult. It all comes with the territory. At least in weyrlinghood you have mentors to help you, people older who've already been through it to talk to. You don't get that everywhere. You should be taking advantage of it here." "Now you sound like Knioth, minus the verse and Harper tongue." It's not as much a brush off as she'd like it to be, but then somewhere in there he hit on the truth, or near enough it. "Still enough of a kid to loose my shit at the worst moments." She points out in interest of fair play. "What if I don't want it. Don't want to lead." "And you think any of us are any different? For Faranth's sake," G'laer swears with a sigh, "My sharding dragon," Two swears, "-sat on me because I lost my temper with you." And a good thing she did, really. But it illustrates his point. "Then one day, you don't have to take the promotion when it's offered to you. We're going to be wingriders for a long time before any of us have the chance to advance in rank and the best that you or I can hope for given the restraints of our bonds," Meaning, green and blue, "-is wingleader or 'second, or weyrlingmaster, if you're crazier than an assistant weyrlingmaster." Teisyth's choice of phrase would have been more colorful, but not as fun a comparison, "So you can be a wingrider forever, if you want, but this is training. Take the lessons while you can get them, because they'll serve you whether you do become a leader or don't in the long run." His eyes fall to his mug and he lifts it, emptying it and setting it back. "Get your Thread back, Ghena. You're good enough to wear it." Ghena opens her mouth to reply, and then closes it. Thinking about the words carefully. "I'll think about it ok?" It's not a commitment, and she certainly won't go running off to Quinlys office after the conversation immediately, but it bears consideration. "I promise I'll think about it." Apparently, that's an answer he'll take because G'laer nods to his sister. Then he's reaching into his pocket to place the necessary mark pieces on the table for the drinks and sliding onto his feet. "See you tomorrow, then." Since the business he came on is now concluded. "See you tomorrow." Ghena remains to finish off her cider, and possibly consider her brother's advice. |
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