Logs:Defense from Randy Bronzeriders
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| RL Date: 20 August, 2014 |
| Who: Edyis, G'laer |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis asks G'laer for self-defense lessons. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen. The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day.
The feeding grounds are not Edyis' favorite place in the weyr, for one thing she has to concentrate on keeping her lunch down, and secondly - no it's mostly the first. It's the greens lounging position that has the young scribe's brows going upward, and a smile threatening to breach. "Good day to you Rider G'laer and Teisyth." Falling back on formality, after all it isn't as though they'd seen much of each other in candidacy, or since. "Resident Edyis," G'laer returns with equal formality as he shifts to face her more directly. Teisyth is far enough away behind the fence that the greeting addressed to her doesn't break into her focus as she lifts her head skywards, eyes whirling excitedly. That one probably looks like a wherry. Nevermind that there are real wherries in the pen with her. "Does the day find you well?" "Just Edyis is fine." She laughs, "It does find me well, and you and your lifemate?" The query comes as the scribe closes the distance between herself and the rider. "She's gotten much bigger than I remembered, same pretty rust washes though." Regarding the cloud watching green with warmth in her expression, before shifting her attention back to G'laer. "Alida recommended you for something, if you have the free time." G'laer doesn't laugh, but one likely wouldn't expect him to. He simply nods to the correction. "G'laer is fine." This is likely added because she's not one of his professional colleagues and they were candidates together. "Did she." It's not a question. The greenrider ignores the compliments to his dragon as superfluous. "What did she recommend me for?" Which doesn't address the matter of his free time. "Self-defense lessons. She mentioned that you might be available when she isn't for sparring practice. She also mentioned that you could be the picture of discretion." The young scribe goes directly to the point. "Only if you are so inclined of course. I know to get things to stick I'll have to practice more than twice a week." She studies the former guard, patiently, as she waits for his response. G'laer's blue gaze takes Edyis in a different way now. The way his eyes shift, it might easily be mistaken for checking the young woman out, when really he's sizing her up. "Hmm." It's a low considering sound in the back of his throat. "And what would a scribe be doing that would require her to defend herself?" He probably doesn't truly wonder, but he makes it sound that way. Still, it's not a 'no.' "In a weyr full of randy bronzers?" Edyis suggests in a manner that may resemble the blue rider's phrasing more than her own. "A girl needs to be able to rely on herself if things get dicey." Comes the more honest answer, as her gaze shifts back to the feeding pen, focusing on nothing. "Is that so strange?" "Randy bronzeriders." His face doesn't need to aid the doubt suffusing his baritone as he repeats the phrase. G'laer considers her a long few moments. "I don't go easy on girls." In case this is relevant. Edyis snorts, "You think I'd ask if I expected to be given special considerations based on gender? Do you think Alida's going to ever go easy on me because I'm female?" The scribe shakes her head, "I need to train to get sharper not be coddled. Doesn't mean you won't hear whining from me. I'm not immune to pain, but this is necessary." "No one would expect Alida to." Given that they're the same gender. There's no snort, but G'laer's tone is dismissive. "Being hit by a man is different than being hit by a woman. Even if the woman is well trained." If the illustrative pair are G'laer and Alida, there's undeniable differences in the raw materials that would make up the strike. "Do you scare?" He doesn't seem to care about the whining and the pain, but he cares about this enough to ask. "Easily, but getting my hind quarters handed to me isn't high on the list of things that inspire terror." She admits openly, "I don't like letting being afraid of something stop me from doing it. Just means I have to work harder at it." Her dark eyes shift back to the green rider now, fully appraising, and darkly curious. "Does it matter?" G'laer looks at her, "It matters more than knowing the steps and swings." The greenrider considers the scribe then abruptly, with no more warning than the fearsome snarl that comes with it, he's swinging to backhand her. There's no sign that this is a feint, but if no defense is presented to the surprise attack, or worse, there's a flinch away, the hand will stop short, but not by much. The sudden backhanding by a snarling greenrider class hasn't been covered yet, and since it's so unexpected there isn't much more offered in the way of resistance than a shift in her stance, so that when the blow does connect it doesn't blow her clean off her feet. When the hand stops short, brown eyes focus sharply as though cataloging every detail. "This happen to you often?" The hand drops away like nothing happened. "I'll teach you." The verdict is delivered decisively, but G'laer doesn't offer explanation as to the sudden attack or the lack of follow through. "I can spare twice a seven. Or three times if you're an early riser." Teisyth has lost her interest in the clouds and the sound of cracking bones indicates that she's finally begun to feed. Is the sound of cracking bone unnerving? She can't possibly realize that. Surprise melts into plain old-fashioned disbelief, though likely no matter how high that dark eyebrow arches she still won't get an exact explanation. Dragon feeding sounds are infact unsettling things, as the discomfort must creep into that passive mask as she keeps her back faced to the pen. "I have no problem being up early. I also know you are a busy man. I can trust you will be discrete about this?" For a moment it might seem that G'laer is only going to give her an impassive look. Then he asks, "Do I seem like someone with an abundance of tongue?" Which isn't exactly an answer. "Who tends to your training injuries?" His gaze hasn't left her face. That's injuries, the plural of injury, and there's no escaping that he expects her to have more than one, and ones serious enough to treat. It is probably turns of hold bred upbringing that prevents Edyis from a crude quip about tongue, she dutifully answers the second query, "For the time being I use the weyr infirmary." Aware of that look, though she doesn't exert the effort to meet it, her mind already chasing down the multiple meanings in his phrasing "Do let me know if you have someone particular in mind." "Oliwer." The answer is immediate. "I don't need anyone taking issue with my teaching methods here where everyone is so soft." G'laer explains at least this much. "I'll make you some salve to use for sore muscles and bruises." It's not, from the tone, offered as a kindness but more as a necessity. Is she scared yet? "Done." The younger woman assents without argument. Is she shaking? Couldn't be, although she does look uneasy. The feeding noises behind her perhaps, or perhaps its the intimidating greenrider. "I'm sure I will be needing quite a bit of it." She pauses considering, "Twice a week, early mornings and Healer Oliwer tends any resultant injury. Any other particulars?" Tone forcibly even. "You'll meet me in the bowl. We'll go elsewhere for training." She did ask for discreet. "Does the third and the seventh of the seven work for you?" At least, in this, G'laer will give her a choice. Once that's answered, he has one further 'particular.' "Come up with a safe word. Something distinct. Like crying uncle. There will be instances you will need it. Something you wouldn't otherwise ever have cause to mention." He looks to the green. The cracking has stopped, so maybe she's finished? Edyis probably shouldn't look at how the blood got everywhere. Edyis nods once, decisively. "Fire. The safeword is fire." And without looking back or turning her head lest she lose her nerve she nods firmly, to stride back to toward the inner caverns as quickly as her short strides can carry her. That is unless there are any more frightening provisions or conditions he deems necessary to mention. |
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