Logs:Do The Herdbeast Stomp
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| RL Date: 15 November, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Jocelyn, Silva |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh teaches some weyrlings how to dance.. sort of. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Aughan/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
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| The atmosphere at High Reaches isn't grand, given the circumstances of late and the increasingly-worrisome state of Pern at large, but also the gloomy cloud overhang sets a certain mood, along with that crisp cold. It's good then, that Farideh's conducting dancing lessons in the training cavern for the weyrlings that have the time to spare just now; dance lessons that will be available on other occasions, as well. She's even roped in a young harper's apprentice for ambiance, and he strums complacently on a string instrument while everyone assembles. "A line, please," the goldrider instructs, clasping and unclasping her hands, gaze flitting between her charges and the apprentice, with a furrow brow. There's an almost anxious look tipped back toward the barracks as Jocelyn files into the classroom with the other currently free weyrlings, arms folding across her chest as she gives that young harper a dubious glance. She wedges herself into the line that forms, posture terribly stiff and expression, less than enthused as she expels an impatient huff. The brownrider next to her doesn't look thrilled, either, but at least his stance is more relaxed, arms hanging comfortably at his sides. Silva lines herself up with everyone else, looking exactly not at all worse for her long nights awake. She's managed to make her uniform look even a little bit dance-like, to give her more freedom of movement. If the gloom is touching her (yes, it is) she's going to PRETEND it isn't. The harper seems oblivious to what's going on around him as he continues to merrily play his instrument, which is obviously the cause of Farideh's frown. For now, she'll focus on the weyrlings, with a slight inclination of her head and, "Thank you. What we'll be doing is very basic. To keep you from-- tripping on your own feet, or worse, some Weyrwoman or another." She smiles and lets that information sink in. "Does anyone have any prior experience? We can probably segregate the I cans from the I can'ts for now." While the weyrling to her right raises his hand at Farideh's request for those with some experience, Jocelyn notably does not. She's too busy aiming a glare at her own feet, which shift slightly in place with her small, uncomfortable fidget. WAIT. Silva can't quite believe her ears - they're going to do something she knows how to do? Her hand shoots straight up high enough that Silva actually ends up on her toes. SHE CAN DO THIS. "Wonderful!" Farideh motions to both Silva and the boy by Jocelyn, who happen to be the only ones to admit some experience. "We'll practice steps to a dance that most of you should have heard before, if not know how to do," she explains, and snaps her fingers a couple of times at the apprentice to get his attention. When he notices, he changes from a sad tune to an up-beat song often heard at many a gather across Pern, that pairs with a simple dance that doesn't require many steps. "Whenever you're ready," she says, and steps to the side, obviously intending the two weyrlings to lead the way and show their peers what they can do. The brownrider looks a little reluctant, but he steps forward nonetheless, turning to offer eager Silva a hand as the harper changes songs. "I'm not terribly good at this, " he confides to her with a sheepish smile, "but I've done it a couple of times." He assumes a good, relaxed stance for leading. "You like dancing, " he assumes as he begins the simple, rhythmic steps for the partnered dance. Silva is NOT reluctant. "Don't worry." Reaching downward she fixes his hand placement just slightly, and then slips back into place. "I use to do this all the time. It was like, the one part of my father's lessons I actually liked." The simple steps are easily enough to fall into, and she'll only add a little extra flair to it. Lowering her voice she whispers, "Just step a little more lightly, okay? Or we'll lose the beat." "Your timing is important, and making sure that you match your partner. Otherwise, you'll end up on reach others' toes and I don't think anyone wants to be the one that trod all over Lord Aughan's expensive shoes." Farideh watches the pair dance, but moves closer to the weyrlings. "Everyone will need to partner off, so--" She starts rapidly pointing to weyrlings, pairing them off, until everyone has a someone. "Watch their feet," she says, meaning Silva and her brownriding partner, "and try to emulate. Keep your chins up. It's easier if look in your partner's eyes. Smile. Shoulders back. Breathe, for Faranth's sake." Silva's partner smiles at her again; her experience makes it easy enough for him to continue with the demonstration without being too uncertain. And her advice, well. That's helpful! "I learned before my first gather, " he replies, taking care to lighten his steps. Jocelyn, meanwhile, has an expression that would put the sourest of Ista's citrons to shame as she faces her partner, whose smile rapidly falters as they barely touch one another's hands. The blue weyrling is making a concerted effort to follow the example set by their peers, but Jocelyn? She is struggling to find the correct rhythm, as her feet move on the off-beats rather than on. Silva totally doesn't look SERIOUSLY superior. Okay, maybe she does. A little bit. For the first time in months she isn't struggling to do something, and she's going to take every ounce of it that she can. As some of the others falter Silva gently (she totally lets him pretend it was his idea - but Silva knows who is in charge of this dance) moves towards Jocelyn. "You have to like," this to Jocelyn, "actually pick up your feet." So helpful. "Breathe in through your nose, not your mouth like you're a panting dog," Farideh snaps at one of the male weyrlings. "No-- no-- your hands up there not--" There's more scowling and threatening mutters, but she's quick to move onto other weyrlings. Silva and her partner get an appraising look, which rapidly turns to approval, and a smile, while Jocelyn almost makes the goldrider laugh. "Shoulders back Jocelyn. Your feet-oh, your poor feet. Concentrate on one step at a time. One two three four-- one two three four--" Twirling her hand, she continues to stand back and watch the mixed progress of the weyrling. One-two-wobble-four is probably not how the dance is supposed to go. Jocelyn's partner gamely keeps trying, but it would be a kindness to say that they're not making progress. Never mind that she isn't quite on the beat; the redhead is stubbornly trying to lead from her position as a follow, which promptly throws the other weyrling off. One-one-two-four is the pattern her feet make next, jaw tight. "You were probably a natural at this when you first learned, weren't you." That's huffed in Silva's direction on the tail end of a frustrated exhale, even as she struggles to pull her shoulders back for Farideh and not watch her ill-timed feet. "You have to let HIM lead. You are BOTH impossible." Silva basks in the glow of approval she gets, and is going to take it more to an extreme. "Here, you help him," and she pushes her partner towards Jocelyn's, and Silva steps in across from the gold weyrling. Nevermind that she's the shortest person here, she's going to set herself up as Jocelyn's partner. "Hand here," she wiggles her shoulder, "and here," fingers wiggle. Silva's going to be Jocelyn's partner now. To Jocelyn, Aidavanth's dismay is a nearly silent thing, but it's there as Jocelyn's frustration keeps increasing to the point where she cannot finish her nap and instead has to take in the current situation with the sense of a long, hard stare. Silva's assessment might not be too far off from the truth. "Girls--" Farideh all poised to lay down some not-so-stern rebukes, but her eyebrows follow through in a lift and her lips quirk to one side she watches Silva take charge of Jocelyn. "Fantastic." Never mind those two boys forced to dance together now; no one cares about their wounded egos. "Silva, you can take Jocelyn in hand and show her how it's done. Perhaps, she'll be ready to dance whomever come next Turnover, after all," the goldrider says, sounding and looking highly amused. "Lord Devaki cuts a fine figure. K'del isn't so bad himself. Prepare yourself, ladies." And then she's stepping over to that mouth-breather, to slap his chin closed and reposition his elbows in such a way that they are not pointing towards the ceiling. To Aidavanth, Jocelyn projects, « Don't. » And that curt syllable is promptly followed by an internal eyeroll as Zaisyreth's steps in. "Don't - " begins Jocelyn aloud, but promptly snaps her mouth shut with a quick shake of her head as her previous partner, looking much relieved, steps off with the brownrider. Pale eyes just stare at Silva for a time as the younger weyrling fills in where the other bluerider left off, expression that of someone who would much rather go muck six couches than go through with the experience she's about to undertake. Stiffly, reluctantly, the redhead places her hands where instructed. They're still much too heavy, and her arms? Much too tense. There's something of a glower aimed in Farideh's direction as the other goldrider's attention shifts to another weyrling, teeth gritting as she brings her gaze back to Silva's. Do your worst. Don't what? Silva's gaze totally holds a challenge for the gold-ling, and she's not going to move until Jocelyn RELAXES. "You're going to like, break something if you try to dance like that. Seriously, shake your arms or something." She wiggles her own elbows to show what Jocelyn needs to do. "You're acting like this will kill you or something, and isn't like, the best thing we've done so far." Mouth-breather gets his posture straightened and that hand-rover over yonder, too, with a sound telling-off from the goldrider. Another pair, who are making googly eyes at each other, gets pushed farther apart-- "Too close. Enough space to fit a third, mind." Farideh makes minor adjustments to other couples, before stepping to the apprentice and having him change into something a little faster-paced. "Keep up-- same as before." Nothing could go wrong, at all! Shake her arms? Jocelyn's eyes narrow, but she gives both arms a burst of two, quick shakes. The weight of her hand shifts on Silva's shoulder, lightening a fraction. Another breath gets released as she lifts her chin, steely gaze determined as the tempo of their accompaniment increases. "I don't see what's so wonderful about it, " she grumps. It's some moments more before the way she's holding her arms eases enough for movement to seem a distinct possibility. "You said to pick up my feet, but I don't see people at gathers looking like they're bovines stomping down the pens." She definitely has too exaggerated of a motion in mind. "You should probably try to practice not stepping like a cow then. And you'd be better at this." Silva keeps her tone low, hopefully Farideh is too far away to catch that. When the pace picks up Silva does also, pulling Jocelyn behind and doing her best to keep her feet away from the gold-ling's stomping. "You have to pick them up but not stomp. Honestly, like, pretend you're on a cloud or something." They go round and round, and Farideh watches from nearby the harper apprentice, noting feet, hands, chins, and all manner in between. Of course, she's too far away to hear exchanges, and is somewhat surprised-- and their partners-- when two of the weyrlings start openly squabbling. "For the love of dragon eggs, can you two stop? Go, just-- go-- " And that brings their number down by two. "Silva? Jocelyn? Better?" she calls, after answering a couple of questions for the other weyrlings. "A cloud, yes. Like walking on a-- like dreaming. It shouldn't require such effort, but then, perhaps it's all in your posture." Jocelyn makes a face at Silva, but she seems to be trying to take her advice. She doesn't move like one traipsing among clouds or floating through a dream, but some measures later her feet are at least not making too-wide motions and she's only half a beat behind rather than nearly two. She still doesn't look happy, but she isn't trying to lead Silva and has only almost tripped once since the girl took over her partnership. "A pity that you can't do all of my dancing for me." Was that a compliment, however veiled? She's too focused on trying to keep up to immediately answer Roszadyth's, remembering to pull her shoulders back again at the sound of the other's voice. "You have to match my footfalls." So since Silva's shorter, so are her steps. Hopefully Jocelyn won't face too many tiny partners, but it COULD HAPPEN. A fake smile gets plastered on just for Farideh, "She's almost not stomping like a herdbeast!" See, compliment. Then back to Jocelyn. "You have to be able to do this. Like, you're going to be important some day. It's not hard. Like... I mean, you figured out the whole cutting thing right? Holding the knife right? Just do that... but with dancing." "No, not quite like a herdbeast, but--" Farideh looks concerned briefly, but then claps her hands together, which the apprentice takes as his cue to stop playing. Plenty of fussing goes on, as those just getting the hang of things don't want to stop. "Don't worry-- there will be more lessons-- and, I'm happy to help anyone who is struggling overmuch one-on-one. Think of dancing like a wordless conversation. You think it's stupid, but plenty of decisions, arrangements, political dealings, have been concluded around a dance. And don't forget: practice, practice, practice." There's another grumble from Jocelyn, who takes to counting under her breath in an attempt to match Silva's feet as instructed. "One-two-oop-four, one-oop-three-four ... " And that's definitely a look for the other weyrling for the status update she offers Farideh, although it lacks its usual bite and only manages to convey weary resignation. She's exasperated to her stopping point, judging by her expression, so it's with marked relief that she drops her hands from the bluerider and promptly puts several more paces of distance between them when the music halts. Groans arise from around the room, whether from those who were having fun or those who, like the silent redhead, don't relish the idea of another lesson. "Practice, " she repeats darkly, as if the weyrwoman had just consigned her to an undesirable fate. Who's going to want to partner her in their spare time? "She's pretty hopeless..." Silva is just going to offer her own comentary there, unhelpful and hurtful as it is. Her arms cross on her chest and she gives Jocelyn a LOOK. "yeah, practice. Like, any time you hear music or something, just like... try. I mean, it really isn't that hard." There's a sudden blink as a thought occurs to her, "Do you like... not play an instrument either?" Not that Silva is any GOOD, but she has the basics. Slight horror, "Do you know ANY music?!" Maybe she's going overboard now. "You can go-- do whatever you it is you all do, now," says their mentor, in her best unsure-mentor-y voice. "Read. Practice-- feeding? Talk to your dragons. Jog. Whatever-- just don't. Don't go anywhere near the infirmary." It's a stiff warning, given with narrowed eyes and a suspicious air. "Voran, you can go now, too," Farideh tells the apprentice, who bobs his head and ducks out as fast as his little legs will carry him. "Silva," is reproachful, "don't be too hard on Jocelyn. She has her whole life to learn," she imparts, and promptly heads for the exit herself. Good luck, suckas~ Jocelyn decidedly does not dignify Silva's pointed questions with her answers in the negative, crossing her arms protectively with a sniff before stalking outside, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The sounds of her footfalls take off at a run once she's left the cavern. Hopefully it's because she's elected to take a lap around the bowl. Which leaves Silva in the rapidly emptying room. There SOME triumph there for finally getting one over on Jocelyn but... it doesn't last long. Shouldn't that have felt better then it actually did? Because it doesn't. Sitting down where Voran has vacated Silva tucks herself into a ball to think about the rollar-coaster of emotion until Zaisyreth tugs hard enough to get her to come out. |
Comments
K'del (14:05, 15 November 2015 (PST)) said...
OMG, that was hilarious. Lovely!
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