Logs:Curbed Enthusiasm
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| RL Date: 28 February, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Rh'mis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rh'mis is shadowing with Alpine. H'kon tries to make him get something out of it. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 2, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Why yes, after this log, H'kon and Quinlys do indeed make it so Rh'mis has to shadow with Alpine over, and over, and over again. That'll learn 'im. |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr There are some riders up this early, many of them wingleaders or wingseconds, some those whose dragons just seem more attuned to early mornings. More, it's the lower caverns staff who can be found, the kitchen workers who are setting up for the day, the drudges running about to change out glows, nannies swapping shifts. It's not busy, but it's enough of a flow that H'kon has opted for a quieter corner, as found before the hearth, for the early morning meeting. Arekoth has been awake long enough to be jovial when he informs Rosvelth of the place. And while it's not proven that the fresh pot of klah being brought out is because that old auntie took a liking to the brownrider long ago, she certainly makes eye contact with him and smiles warmly when she sets it down. Like most teenage boys, Rhey is not at his best, early in the morning... though since most people never do see his best, that may be difficult to determine. Rosvelth is cheerful enough, at least, when he promises that his rider will be along directly, and finally - finally - the weyrling shows up, sleep-tousled and moody, but present and correct. Bypassing caverns workers on his way in, he slouches his way to the chair opposite the other brownrider, raising his eyebrows: he's here. What now? H'kon has hazarded filling two mugs while waiting for this young dragonrider's arrival; both are steaming on the table by the time Rh'mis arrives, both klah, black. "Weyrling," is greeted, an element of expectation behind it, as green eyes study the face across from him from under the omnipresent heavy brow. "Good morning." H'kon gestures once, dismissively, toward the cup of klah nearer Rh'mis, and then leans, pulling from a satchel (obviously, H'kons have satchels) near his feet a few hides, marked with basic formations; nothing Rh'mis will not have seen before, throughout weyrlinghood. Those are laid flat on the table. If it is indeed a battle between 'accept the klah and wake up, but have to be grateful' and 'refuse the klah and not wake up, but win', this morning the former does win out. Rhey's fingers wrap around the mug, drawing it up towards his mouth so that he can breath in the steam, and warm his face with it. "Wingsecond," he says, something like an afterthought. He'll even look down at those hides, dark eyes darting from one set of formations to the next: he clearly sees more than he says (or participates) in. Hard to say if H'kon could consider the boy drinking the klah a victory, or even if Rh'mis might earn some sort of approval for taking it black. H'kon stares, and waits until the weyrling has had time to look over those hides. "These are basic formations." Clearly. "The drills this morning are to be simple enough, in concept. Flying formation, changing formation. Today, I am looking for speed, efficiency, and synergy from my wing, not acrobatics, and nothing overly technical." The words come short and quickly. And then comes a sip of his own klah, much the same. Rh'mis takes a sip from his mug. Either he generally takes it black by choice or habit, or he's very good at hiding any distaste: his expression doesn't change. His answer to the other brownrider is an incommunicative nod, the kind that isn't so much a 'yes, and?' as a 'if I nod this will be over more quickly.' "Alpine is a wing of relatively skilled riders. And this is the stuff of weyrling lessons. There is little in this," his fingers flick toward the hides, even if those eyes are still, unrelentingly, on the younger brownrider, "to challenge any of them, individually. This morning's drills are not about the individual." "I get it. It's about working together in a team, blah blah blah," blurts out Rhey abruptly, apparently no longer able to take the slow and deliberate approach; he's no longer sitting still, either: one leg bounces, just barely, in front of him. His hands, around his mug, tighten. "You do not get it, and are wrong," H'kon corrects him, in the same tones as he'd used in his explanation. There's no change in his eyes or expression, either. "Working together as a team requires some sort of common goal. There is no goal in this drill; no destination, and no clear end point." Rh'mis' expression turns defiant and irritable, but he doesn't argue except to say, "Fine then. What is the point?" He's aiming for 'bored' but it just comes across as 'pissy.' H'kon's face still doesn't change. Even when he lifts his mug up to it, then returns it slowly to the table. "Riders and dragons will have nothing to distract their focus from the current moment. At least, nothing in the drill itself. Think what might be gained from that." And he waits. He could be waiting a long time: Rhey also waits. Rhey eyes his klah, then returns his gaze to H'kon. Silence. H'kon still hasn't looked away from his assigned weyrling. And still waits, lifting the mug on occasion, if time should allow. This is not a contest that will be easily won. Rh'mis, though still holding his mug, makes no move to sip from it. His leg has stopped bouncing, and his expression remains - becomes? - entirely placid, though there's something defiant in the set of his shoulders even now. H'kon is still and steady, but for the motion to and fro of his mug, his own shoulders relatively relaxed, his expression still that of unsatisfied expectation that he's worn since the beginning of all this. And waits... « Boring, » decides Rosvelth, out in the bowl, with an overly exaggerated mock-yawn. His rider is still sitting still, and life is dull. « Do you think they're going to sit like that all day, Arekoth? Because that's only fun later, when you can tell the story of the great silence-off. » Arekoth shakes out his wings, and slowly sets to re-arranging them on his back, running the flats of his teeth very precisely and carefully along the leading edges as he settles, and re-settles, and re-settles them. « If they do, then we're both going to miss the drills, » is maybe not an answer... though he does allow a proper amount of foreboding into his voice for it. Chances: good. Rosvelth sighs the sigh of the dramatically downtrodden and admits, « I could go and take a nap, but I want to do something. It's 'go' time, Rhey. Go, go, go. Not sit-and-stare. » His rider is probably not listening. His rider never listens. The younger (but bigger!) brown shuffles out his own wings, ignoring the light snowfall that continues to fall around them. Arekoth huffs after that sigh, turning that sharpened look he has directly to Rosvelth. « It sure seems like go time, » is held dryly over the young brown's head. Figuratively over, of course. He switches to preening out the other wing, even if the first twitches, opening faintly, closing faintly, intermittently, never fully settled. « It won't be all bad if you just have to go back up to your ledge. At least you might be able to watch the wing drill. If your ledge is close. » « I made sure I got a ledge close to the action, » says Rosvelth, ignoring the dryness of Arekoth's reply in lieu of being more... well, more Rosvelth. « But I don't want to watch. Watching is boring. RH'MIS. Stop doing that. TALK TO HIM. » Sorry about the yelling Arekoth, but... jeez. « Good boy, » Arekoth gives offhandedly to his young apprentice. « When we tell you you're not allowed to fly with our wing, you'll at least be able to see. Maybe then he'll get it. » But Arekoth likes Rosvelth well enough. Well enough, even, to offer the other brown a little nudge with his beaked nose, the way one rider might punch another amicably in the arm. The way H'kon certainly doesn't, still staring at Rh'mis, still waiting. Rosvelth's return nudge is a little more like a shove, but it's friendly enough for that he says, « Not allowed to fly with you? Pft! You want us. You know you want us. We're the best. » This is not strictly true, but Rosvelth surely does seem to believe it. Rhey's brow wrinkles, and he withdraws one hand from his mug to rub at it, as if he can simply rub away the headache that is his brown. "Perhaps," he says, through gritted teeth, "You should tell me." Arekoth's laugh is a roll of dancing colours across the night sky. Even if that shove was enough to make his wings spread out for balance. « Just because you're the best doesn't mean my wing's a charity. » In the caverns, Rh'mis' words barely see any reaction in H'kon at all. Just the slightest lift of his head, and the question of, "Do you have no thoughts on the matter at all?" « Rhey doesn't want your wing, » allows Rosvelth, abruptly. « Something to do with Nabol, I don't know. » Of course he knows, but it's so much easier - more fun? - to pretend otherwise. "No," says Rhey, firmly. "None." He sets his mug down, largely undrunk. "A strange thing, for one who was so quick to jump to a conclusion before," H'kon answers, hints of authority entering his tone, right at the back, where they might hardly be noticed. "Or a lie." Nonetheless, he reaches forward to spread the hides out, that all are neatly displayed, and at right angles to each other, no less. Arekoth takes a bit longer to answer, long enough to be listening elsewhere. « Good. Maybe he won't be disappointed. » "Can we just... finish this so I can go?" Rhey ignores H'kon's answer, and instead crosses his arms defensively in front of himself. "This is a waste of your time, and mine." Rosvelth's huff of warm breath is dismissive and abruptly bored. He launches himself from the bowl, scattering snow as he goes, and says, « You're just not good enough for us. » "No," H'kon answers, without hesitation, and still in that steady theme he's been maintaining. "I have communicated my plans and my purpose to my wingleader. He might run the drills without me if for any reason I am delayed. And there are others in the wing who could assist him well enough." « I'll have Kavith tell you when drills are starting, » Arekoth promises, « So you can watch from your ledge. We'll be hunting, after. » He does like that brown, mostly. Rh'mis lifts his hands, palms up, and then waves H'kon on. "Then tell me," he says, keeping his tone exaggeratedly neutral. "What I am missing." « Oh, I don't care about the drills, » says Rosvelth, as he gains a little altitude, stretching his wings and enjoying the flight rather than seeking any place in particular. « I don't mind missing them. Much more interesting things to do, really. » H'kon watches the boy a bit longer, and then gives one, curt nod. "I still suspect you were lying." But. "When you go between with your dragon, you must be unified in your focus." He doesn't wait for acknowledgement; he's already tapping the hides, carrying on, "These are easy things. They invite distraction. I do not want distraction in my wing. I want them to be able to anticipate each other instinctively. It is not working as a team. It's a matter of thinking. Tuning." "How, then, do you force them to take easy drills seriously?" Rhey wants to know, though he make sit sound like a very bored kind of question: clearly, he doesn't really care about the answer, he's just making conversation. Or making it try to seem that way; it's hard to tell with him. "Hm," says H'kon, and there's the slightest pull at the edge of his mouth. Might be, it was a muscle spasm, nothing more. "This will not be the first day that we have done these. Nor the second. It is one in a consecutive series. Most all my wingriders now know what is expected. Most all my wingriders are anxious to be on to hand-to-hand training, which will be next in our drill rotation. But Arekoth and I know, as well as Y'rel, Kavith, and others in our wing - not all of whom are the more experienced - when there is the focus we are seeking." Arekoth, who has been watching after Rosvelth from below, who finally asks, « Having fun, all alone? » Rh'mis crosses his arms, sitting back in his chair all idle disinterest. "Fine," he says. "So they know what to do. Presumably, they haven't all managed it, but fine. You keep trying. Training for... for the thread that will never fall?" Rosvelth glides onwards, letting a thermal carry him higher without need for much work by this great, broad wings. « Always, » he insists. « And forever. » "And they know what the other is doing. It's a sort of aerial meditation, all together. In a crisis, they will be able to act all as one." And now, H'kon allows his brow to drop a bit more, and looks carefully after the younger brownrider. "I cannot imagine you, of any rider in this Weyr, would suspect that Alpine trains only to maintain Threadfighting skills." The line of Rhey's mouth tightens considerably, but that's the only reaction he has to H'kon's words. "Good for Alpine," he says. Now, finally, there is a hesitation on H'kon's part, a moment of silence, marked by a little downward pull at the edge of his mouth. He's watching Rh'mis, still, always, but he's no longer watching. After this thought: "It was not so glorious an affair as Y'rel would have it. As I understand it, the camp was not so glorious of its own, either." And now, he sits forward, gathering his hides. "Why did you come, this morning." It's a question. Even if there is no upward intonation at the end. « Forever alone. Sounds boring. » "I was told to show up," comes quickly enough - defensive, too. "It's easier to show up than explain why not. Should I have stayed away? Would you have reported me?" Rhey doesn't especially seem to care about the answers. "I came. I'm here. Can we finish, so I can go?" « I'm never alone. » Rosvelth's mind changes as quickly as the winds above High Reaches. He doesn't mind. Or care. "There are other wings who've commented on your performance," H'kon apparently has no problem informing the boy across from him, once Rh'mis seems to have reached an end - or at least, reached the same topic he keeps coming back to. "You'll have been gone by the time we routed the camp, of course, but that doesn't suggest a lack of opinion. I was uncertain." All that, so that, when he leans to put the hides back into that satchel, face still turned up to Rh'mis, he can ask, "Do you mean to fly this drill in earnest, or would you disrupt my wing to no one's benefit?" By his expression, Rhey has no opinions at all. That, of course, is far from the truth - but for now, he's doing a good job at keeping it looking that way. He's not even defensive, now. "Any newcomer would be a disruption," he says. "My question was one of benefit, not disruption." The satchel is buckled. H'kon sits up straight in his chair again, whatever remnants of his klah are in his mug seemingly forgotten. And he waits. "I am not going to be tapped to Alpine," says Rhey. This time, thankfully, there's no delay in his answer: no staring competition. "Do not avoid the question, weyrling. And an honest answer, this time." H'kon, still waiting. Rh'mis, now frustrated. "Given I will not be tapped to Alpine, there seems little benefit in my joining your drills," he says, exaggeratedly. "We would be better served drilling with a different wing. You would be better served not needing to waste your time." H'kon's eyes narrow, just a little. "Call to Rosvelth. Have him meet us with Arekoth." He's on his feet, leaving the dregs of klah in his mug to cool, all alone, forever. Whatever Rhey expected, this doesn't seem to have been it: he starts, his own eyes narrowing, as the other brownrider stands. Then his chin lifts, and he, too, stands. Above, Rosvelth begins wheeling his way down again. « What? » he wants to know, probing in Arekoth's direction. « The wing's gathering, » Arekoth answers. H'kon slings up that satchel, over his shoulder. "There will be little overt indication when the formation goes to change. Arekoth will supply Rosvelth with the pattern we mean to follow, but only prior to the drill's beginning. You'll likely miss the first few changes and be jostled. I expect you'll try not to embarrass yourself more than necessary. It's a simple drill, when in the right mindset." All these instructions, fired off quickly, as he walks from the table, those little legs moving fast. Rh'mis's legs are barely longer than H'kon's, but he's behind, and has to lengthen his stride to try and keep up. He scowls, but only for a moment, allowing his expression to be replaced by that quiet neutrality. "Yes, Wingsecond," he says, though it's scarcely above a mutter, and not precisely respectful. « We'll show you, » Rosvelth decides, as he backswings down onto the cold ground. « How amazing we really are. We will. » They won't. « Can't wait to see it, » Arekoth answers back, a crackle of challenge flashing behind those words. H'kon has nothing more to say, until he's addressing the wing as a whole, in parade ground voice. And then, it's about the whole, and not about the individual at all. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 01 Mar 2014 02:20:03 GMT.
< Klohi: ANARCHY!
- ahem* Now that that's out of the way... Damn H'kon, foiling stubborn teenage plans! It never occurred to me to connect H'kon's presence at Nabol and Rh'mis' knowing about it. Oooh. The tensions~
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