Logs:Fire Plan 2
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| RL Date: 25 June, 2015 |
| Who: Quinlys, T'mic |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: T'mic has an idea, and wants to run it by Quinlys. |
| Where: Starry Dreams Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edyis/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions |
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| Starry Dreams Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
It's a meeting Jorrth had requested of Olveraeth before the morning's drills began. It's a meeting that was kept off until well after, after drills and lessons and even supper, but this after is now, and Jorrth is trying to contain his excitement at finally (he now remembers) getting to see the Weyr with the stars. There's a bit of bleed-over tonight, from their fatigue, from the fact that they've been running around all day and T'mic may not have quite had a dip in the stress; he's the one doing the deep breathing exercises, once he's dismounted, while his dragon waits on Olveraeth's okay to go exploring. Olveraeth, hanging out at his couch, is pleased to see the younger blue, welcoming him in with an auroral glow, and a trail of solar wind. His rider hovers near the doorway, dressed down in sweats and slippers, though at least she's fully clothed and (mostly) presentable. "T'mic," she greets. "Jorrth. Come on in, mm? It's freezing out here and I just got the place warmed up." True to her word, it's cozy inside, both in terms of the heat produced by the hearth, and the comfortable clutter that has turned this from a cave into a home. "Weyrlingmaster," T'mic greets back, with a salute to her, even if she's wearing sweats and (I hope fuzzy?) slippers. "Thanks." He shrugs out of his jacket inside, holding it sort of awkwardly. Jorrth leans on Olveraeth mentally, that sun-warm-fur smell present in his response. « Yours is the weyr with the stars, » Jorrth remembers-from-T'mic to the older dragon. T'mic looks around, but is less nosy altogether. "Thanks," he says to Quinlys, "for letting us stop." Thankfully, Quinlys has cleared away any unmentionables; there's nothing too embarrassing in her weyr, although the bubble-shaped hollow of her bed is right there. She gestures towards chairs at a little table, moving to take one of them herself. "Not a problem," she says. "Wingleader. What can I do for you?" Olveraeth's pleased by Jorrth's presence, and by those words; he confirms it with a shower of shooting stars. « It is, » he agrees. « And here it is. Will you watch the skies with me? » But not for auguries. The sweats make it less awkward, though. Far less. T'mic rubs at the back of his neck in an 'aw shucks' kind of way for that title used on him, even if it's mostly appropriate. "I actually wanted to ask you about that. Well, not about that, but like, a specific thing." He goes to the chair, and there finds something over which to drape his coat before sitting. Good. Jorrth very much would; it's in his whole aura, and in the little bounce that he can't quite keep down. « Oh yes. » "Well, a person," T'mic corrects. « I will. » "Edyis. And the drills this month." It's a good thing Quinlys thought better than to be just in a negligee, then. She seems amused by T'mic's reaction to the use of that title, but doesn't comment on it, instead nodding to encourage the weyrling's words, all the way to his point. "Flaming," she guesses, without sounding entirely certain. "I saw how she was with the flamethrowers. How do you want to handle it?" Olveraeth shifts his wings, nebulae forming amidst his amusement, one set of eyelids closed as he turns his face up towards the skies. « They all have names, » he says. « You cannot see the Dawnsisters now, of course. But there are others. And constellations, too. » "Yeah," T'mic nods. "Flaming." He tongues a bit at the pointiest tooth in the top left corner of his mouth, nodding still, and thinking a little too, probably. "Akluseth talked to Jorrth about it. That he was worried. That Edyis has... I don't know. Jorrth wasn't sure, either, but there's something with fire..." He's almost ready to dwell on it, when he catches himself, and opens his eyes a little wider, and makes sure he's sitting up straight. "I sort of thought maybe- well, there's two parts. First is, maybe Jorrth and I could go first. Before anyone else." Jorrth is busily looking up alongside Olveraeth. « What are their names? Of all the ones we can see? » "So that you have more practice at it, and can better lead the others," Quinlys assumes, bypassing the details on Edyis to focus on the actual request at hand. "I don't have a problem with that. Do you both feel ready for it?" She crosses her arms, one hand on each elbow, and leans slightly forward. « That one, » indicates Olveraeth, highlightly the stars in his mind and sharing it with the younger blue, « is Fayet, and next to it, Diris. They're part of the constellation 'Trundlebug.' But they'll be gone, soon. It'll be too late for them. » "Yeah," comes again. "Jorrth's been pretty quick on things so far. And then we'll know. And we have to; Roszadyth," here T'mic lifts those big shoudlers of his and lets them drop back down, "is too gold." Normally, Jorrth would surely be revelling in the very idea of a challenge just for him. Right now, his attention is firmly on the lesson on stars. « Too late, » repeats the little blue, with a hint of sadness to his tone. « Fayet. Diris. » Each name said quietly, mostly to himself, but with some overlap to Olveraeth, whose starmaps he's still watching as intently as he's watching the sky through that little tunnel. "Then, what Jorrth and Akluseth talked about, was that we could help him out when he starts. I mean, I'm not saying we'd teach him the first time, just... we could be there. I think it might help. Jorrth and Akluseth work really well together." « They'll set, » agrees Olveraeth, mapping their trajectory with deep consideration. « Until they rise again, tomorrow. But the days will get longer, and the nights shorter, and as we move, we will see them less and less until... not at all. Until next turn. » Such is the way of stars. "Roszadyth," agrees Quinlys, easily, "Will not be terribly useful in the practical applications of this. I'd like to see her on hand, though, to calm and focus the other dragons; as a queen, that's a skill she'll be learning anyway." Method, then, to her madness. "No, I think that would be useful. For you all. I'm going to talk to Edyis, too." Her mouth presses together; she and that particular weyrling are not precisely friendly, and it's plain she's not looking forward to the talk. T'mic gives an emphatic nod to the continued talk of the weyrling gold. "Definitely. Well, definitely for the others. Edyis..." It makes him press his lips together. "If she really is shaken by it, so deep that Akluseth is worried? I don't know if Farideh being there will help." Once he's said it, he can think on it. And that brings, "At first. She's a goldrider, she'll be there, I get that. Just I feel like this should be... careful, you know? At first." He's talking almost as if he's had authority. And then he remembers Quinlys', and looks down, quickly, deferent. "If that's okay. Just for this time. Unless you think it might help." « As we move, » Jorrth repeats. « The whole world, right? » It must have been covered somewhere, in threadfall charts or basic lessons or somewhere, because Jorrth pulls it out with confidence. « What about that one? » Now, he stretches his visual mind, picking out the one he sees just at the edge of the view allowed by that tunnel. "Agreed," is all Quinlys says of Farideh and Edyis together, her tone easy enough despite the flicker of something in her expression; teenagers and recently-teenagers, ugh! "T'mic, stop. You're the wingleader. I'm the weyrlingmaster, sure, but the whole point is that your job is to lead. I'm glad you're running this all past me, but I'm willing to consider any and all ideas... and I happen to think you're right. So. It's a plan." « The whole world, » Olveraeth agrees, pleased. « That's part of the Glowbasket, » he adds, after rummaging through his rider's thoughts, digging up the information in question. « But she doesn't remember the name of the star itself. » T'mic stops. And presses his lips together, drawing a wide line across his face. One nod. And then, a few breaths, while his eyes dart a bit, signs of thinking. « Who would know? » Jorrth wonders. « Is there a dragon constellation? » His rider has settled, and at last offers a sheepish sort of half-smile. "It's just strange. We've been trying to keep up with everyone, and I think we have. But we've had our heads down a lot, too. I don't want to do anything dumb." Simply, "I know. But I have confidence in you both; wouldn't have picked you otherwise, would I? Plenty of your clutchmates haven't had a turn... and won't get one, either." Quinlys lets that hang for a moment and then adds, "You're doing fine." « Many, » reports Olveraeth. « The dragonrider cannot be seen at this time of turn, not this far north, but... there. The dragon's claw. And the dragon's head, down there, too. » "Okay," says T'mic. And indeed, it sounds settled. Jorrth tilts his head a little bit, tracking the various bits of dragon. « He must be a very flexible dragon, » is wry. « Or is the dragon a she? » Those little feet step-step so that he can see yet another angle. Or, try to; there's not all that many angles to be had, really. "Okay," comes repeated again, simple affirmation. « I'm not sure, » admits Olveraeth. « But I like to think he is blue. » All the best dragons are, aren't they? "Okay," says Quinlys, adding her own repetition to the conversation. "I'll see you at drills in the morning, then. Sleep well, wingleader." « Some of them tell stories, » he adds. « And commemorate things in history. They are wondrous. » « Could we see them from the rim? » is of first importance. Of second is, « Would you tell me one of them tonight? » It's not as adorable as it might have been, when his voice was still all squeaky and there was no possible way he could carry his rider anywhere. But Jorrth's request is just as earnest as ever his requests have been. "You will," T'mic confirms, taking that as his dismissal. "Thanks, Quinlys." She still gets a salute, before he grabs his jacket. « Yes, » agrees Olveraeth. And, « Yes, » again. He draws his wings up and away from him, shuffling forward. « I will tell you as many as you wish to hear before you sleep. » Quinlys' gaze slides off in the direction of the dragons for a moment, and then hastily back to T'mic, to whom she returns that salute. "You're welcome, T'mic," she says. She will stay here in the warm, in her sweats. Priorities! And T'mic will get to his own weyr before Jorrth goes off stargazing. There's something to be said for unquestioning devotion, really. |
Comments
Faryn (03:07, 28 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
I'm so into this arc for Ed's fire phobia, and also so amused that we have a constellation called trundlebug. Because of course we do.
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