Logs:Keeping Promises
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| RL Date: 24 August, 2015 |
| Who: Ebeny, Kh'tyr |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ebeny acquires another assistant courtesy of the dearly dep-- vanished, Lilah. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: E'dre/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions |
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>---< Weyrlingmaster's Office, Fort Weyr(#576RJhs$) >------------------------< This small cavern opens off the Complex and serves as a more private meeting space for small groups of the weyrlings and an office space for the Weyrlingmaster. Just within the door, an oval table set about with six chairs is kept stocked with mugs and a fresh pitcher of water and carafe of klah. A blackboard hangs on the wall to the left of the table, often marked with notes or diagrams from lessons. Past the blackboard, a broad-topped desk is arranged with two comfortable chairs in front to welcome guests, while a sturdy, straight-backed and only lightly-padded chair sits behind the desk for the Weyrlingmaster's use. The desk boasts many drawers and a blotter top. A shelf hangs from the wall above and to one side of the desk, extra storage space for stacks of vellum, ink and pens, sealing wax and other odds and ends. Against the back wall a subtly set door leads the way into the Weyrlingmaster's personal weyr. He slipped in while ground and air drills are in progress, a very nonchalant entrance that took Kh'tyr through the complex into the Weyrlingmaster's office, dressed in his worn out riding leathers of the Igen style with their added attention to the hazards particular to that area. He wears no Igen knot though, just a new badge indicating Fort Weyr where one might expect the other Weyr's emblem to be. The jacket is flopped open over his lavender-shirted chest and the shirt untucked, he looks more like he's coming off a shift of work and heading for a drink than prowling the Weyrlingmaster's office in search of a face-to-face with the woman. He's stopped in front of the chalk board, shamelessly studying the diagrams and notes there this morning. He's even so bold as to pluck up a piece of chalk and make a small notation next to the topic of visualizations. There are too many unpredictable elements (in the form of weyrling dragons and riders) for Ebeny to look in on and after for her to manage to be even nearly everywhere she possibly should be at once, and so her office finds itself unattended during the time which her charges are out and about - more so, these days, with the younger class having joined the older in moving into their own weyrs. It's likely Laurienth who has noticed Kh'tyr's journey, and it's not so many minutes after his arrival that the Weyrlingmaster reaches the room and levels a rather blank stare at the visitor. Kh'tyr doesn't turn from the board immediately at the sound of boot on stone, but after a moment, he's turning. "Good stuff," he compliments, waving the chalk at the board on the whole before replacing it where he found it. His hand rises then to accord the Weyrlingmaster her due salute, crisp in contrast to his appearance. That blank stare is all that defines Ebeny for moment after moment, or perhaps it's just the distance to her gaze even as she plainly takes in what she can note of Kh'tyr and his appearance - and his manner. A blink seems to bring her back into the room or the present, or acknowledges a willingness to engage in conversation. "Who are you?" she asks, moving for her desk in a vaguely proprietary way, hands moving to pass over locked drawers and check that they're secure. "No offense, but you're probably too old to be one of mine even from turns ago." "Too true," Kh'tyr willingly agrees, turning to follow toward the desk, helping himself to one of the guest chairs in front of it, "But just because I wasn't one of yours then doesn't mean you'll have to be deprived of the delight of teaching me a thing or two or twenty." He lifts his brows and his lips turn in a smile that's part charm and part amusement. "I am Kh'tyr." He starts there as his hands start searching what must be several inner pockets within his riding jacket. "Brown Mograith's companion, lately of Igen, but recently transferred-- ah!" He produces a folded page, unfolds it and uses the edge of the desk to try to straighten out some of the creases, "to be of use to you, Weyrlingmaster, and in so doing keep my promise to Weyrwoman Lilah." He offers the paper over; Lilah's signature occupies the Fort side of the transfer orders with her script indicating the agreement is for him to transfer in his capacity as an assistant weyrlingmaster. "...Lilah isn't here anymore," is a murmured reminder that falls too close to a plea not to be reminded, before Ebeny even glances at the paper. In-fact, she even avoids looking at it until there's absolutely no chance of her continuing to maintain her manners without doing so. Muddy-green eyes scan the script, until the Weyrlingmaster simply places the creased document down on the desk and leans back in her chair. "She'll never know if you don't keep your promise," she utters in that same downcast tone. "If you're only answering obligation, we can say no more about it. If you want to work with our weyrlings, that's a different matter, but I've no wish to keep anyone in a job they don't really want." "Lilah isn't here anymore," Kh'tyr uses the woman's words in a different way, but his tone, for all its previous bravado, is now hushed and solemn, "She'll never know if I don't keep my promise." The space left after the words too clearly implies: he would. He lets the implication sink in a moment before he straightens in his chair, "If I didn't want to work with your weyrlings, I wouldn't have let her convince me to transfer away from Igen. You have a unique group with unique challenges that are more interesting than what I've dealt with in the past. I have a penchant for dealing with those who don't deal well with the usual authorities, of getting people who don't like to play the game to play it anyway." He looks evenly at the Weyrlingmaster as he sits forward. "I'd like to learn from you and try my hand with them, if you'll have me." "What we have is the result of needing Candidates and letting people pick, ask and choose, rather than letting the dragons do as they usually would and find most of them for us," Ebeny replies, matter of fact, if not exactly judgemental. "And what we have in some cases is going to take more than a turn of training and 'here, have a weyr, a wing and a new knot' to sort out," she adds, her voice beginning to edge towards something close to pained, though, for once, her expression doesn't betray her any further. She gives herself a moment to recover from that lapse, then murmurs, "...As is probably too obvious, I don't like viewing classes as potential ranks and numbers and checklists. I don't think tactics like provoking and shaming and setting punishments for everything under the sun are valid methods of dealing with people. If you can understand that, then I imagine we can work together." "I assure you my methods are much more individual and human." Kh'tyr answers with a flash of a smile. "I'm creative, eccentric and a pain in the ass." At least this much is offered candidly and the redeeming single finger comes up as he adds, "But, I'm also a hard worker, open-minded and I listen at least half of the time." There's humor in the last. "And I get results. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here." He searches in his inner jacket pockets again and a shorter time later he produces another folded document. "Since I didn't have Weyrwoman Lilah's physical presence to back my bid for an assistant's knot, I took the liberty of asking my boss to write this up for me. It basically says what I told you, with some statistics and a witty anecdote that you can feel free to ignore." As he speaks, he performs the same attempt to smooth creases on the edge of the desk and then offers the page over. How Ebeny disregards this page is different to her avoidance of the first, for though she accepts the offered paper, she doesn't actually read it, nor does she make any obvious attempt to pretend to. Instead, she watches Kh'tyr, too intensely at first, before that blankness reclaims her and she eventually blinks herself back to an easier kind of focus as she presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry," she says first, vaguely offhand or dismissive of her apology in the same breath, whether intentionally or not. "It's been... a difficult time. I've sent my kids away and-you don't need my life story." Unknowingly, she folds the page in her grip in half, then again and again. "How about we say that you can assist with the current classes and if you're more of a pain in the arse than they are, then we re-evaluate? During your first fortnight, I'll want to observe at least three of your classes." "You're right, I don't." Kh'tyr answers, "But life stories have a way of coming out the longer you work with a person. Anything you want to tell me off the top?" He makes the invitation before his head turns toward the blackboard. "If it's all the same to you, Weyrlingmaster, for the first fortnight, I'd like to observe you and the other assistants so I can see how you do things here. I'd propose after that you let me bring you my lesson plans to review and we'll do that at least three of my classes observation on your part. Unless you really want to turn me loose on them with nothing but Igen for reference." There's an almost predatory twinkle to the way he grins at that idea, but since he's suggested otherwise, it's obviously not his preference. "The rest sounds acceptable. This class is what I promised her." The her who is no longer here. Ebeny arches a brow, yet she offers two statements in answer to his enquiry. "I'm weyrmated to the Acting Weyrleader. You'll want to get out of the way fast when Laurienth rises." She pauses for long enough to make a distinction between one and the next, though it might be unclear whether they're connected; whether one is a consequence of the other. "For your first month, you won't be without me or one of my assistants," the greenrider says wryly. "But if that's what you want. The younger ones are usually too eager to get in there and prove that they know everything and don't need assistance or training." She rises from her chair, only to hesitate and end up leaning against the desk. "Oh, and since Igen is one of the major stops during their Between training, you'll be taking them on a little tour of your former home. Provided you're still willing and with us by then." Kh'tyr considers the two items as she delivers them and then gives a slight nod to indicate he's heard (this must be at least half the time he's listening). "I've spent too many turns already as a weyrling, in the wings, and as an assistant to imagine I know everything, even if it's fun to pretend sometimes." There's humor there and promise: he'll have his moments. "Mograith is sixteen. All the statistics will be in my file that I'm sure they'll get you once they've figured out where they're filing me-- they sent me to you since they weren't sure I'd still be getting the knot I was promised." A finger flicks to indicate the naked shoulder of his jacket. "As you noted, I'm too old to be one of your weyrlings, but I'm never too old to be some variety of student." He reaches up to rake fingers through the floppy shock of brown atop his head. "I'd be happy to show them around Igen. I can even take them down to Harper if you want me to rile up some Journeymen and give the weyrlings a pop quiz on diplomacy." There's another flash of that predatory sort of smile that promises Kh'tyr has an unhealthy love of trouble that goes beyond the nature of his weyrlings. That being the case, perhaps she can't count on him heeding the second of her personal notes; only time will tell. More than leaning, now Ebeny actually braces herself against the desk for a second or so. "Let's just... one thing at a time for now, huh?" is laced with the kind of exhaustion of one both a little overwhelmed and too accepting of pervading weariness. "Be here for the younger class' first lesson tomorrow morning and we'll go from there." One hand traces over the surface of her desk, seeking something it doesn't find. "...I'll probably have managed to find a knot for you by then, too." Kh'tyr takes his cue, rising from the seat. "Your wish is my command," he offers her pleasantly. "If you need anything..." He trails of making a vague gesture that probably means he's available via dragons. "I'll just be settling in and getting to know people." Somehow, he manages to make that sound like more trouble in the making, still he doesn't linger to invite any of that trouble to her door just now. "Ma'am," is the polite note of departure before he heads back out the way he came, his stride a lazy, confident thing, as if he were a feline already making himself at home, even with no knot to yet prove his belonging. |
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