Logs:Knot and Run
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| RL Date: 13 November, 2011 |
| Who: E'gin, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: E'gin taps his second Wingsecond. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 0, Month 3, Turn 27 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A blanket of cold, dense fog fills the bowl with its oppressive presence and obscures vision. |
| Mentions: Emme/Mentions, Meara/Mentions, Riorde/Mentions |
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| A dense haze covers High Reaches, it is impossible to see the lake from the bowl, but the steady crash of the little water fall can be heard in the distance. It is cold too, not freezing, but cold enough that an unprepared person would be rather uncomfortable. In the midst of the haze E'gin has found a rock to perch on. One leg is pulled up to his chest as he tightens the laces of his boots. Waiting for a companion, he occassionally lifts his head, straining to see anyone approaching. Patched together, hand me down riding leathers have been left in favor of light weight pants and a handed down shirt. Vysravth lurks eerily in the background Mostly hidden in the murkiness, only his whirly eyes can be made out somewhere over E'gin's shoulder. Even the brightness of Olveraeth's hide is impossible to see through the gloom as the nearly-full grown blue wings his way down towards the lake shore. That he manages to land on solid ground is, in some respects, an impressive feat; it's one his rider commends him on, a moment later, her voice ringing out through the gloom. "Nice one, Olly," says Quinlys, her words followed, a moment later, by the thump of feet upon the ground. "Shells, look at it." Beat. "E'gin? You out here?" Perhaps they landed to close for comfort, or maybe it just seems that they are closer in the fog, but E'gin starts the blue lands with a thump. He waits a few second before responding, "Yah. Over here, Quinlys." Marco. He takes a few steps towards where he thinks the voice came from, the bluerider's view slowly visible. "Hey. Nice landing." Is offered to the blue, before he addresses his rider, "Thanks for coming. Need a minute to stretch?" Vysravth rumbles a greeting in the distance, but makes not movements to come closer. No need to accidently squish someone. "How's it going?" A general question, but asked with earnest. Polo. Quinlys' laugh sounds through the gloom, and after a moment, she manages to orient herself appropriately to step towards the brownrider. "He's very pleased with it," she says of her blue, amused, as she approaches. "Thanks." She, too, is dressed down, with her hair pulled up in a high pony-tail to keep it out of her face, though the fog seems determined to send tendrils of it down her neck. "Mmm, guess I ought to. Stretch, I mean. But-- good. Real good. How are you, Wingleader-mine?" E'gin response to the laughter is a big grin, hard to see in the weather, but there none the less. As the girl stretches he crosses his arms with a nod, listening. When she doesn't offer much he shrugs, waving off the title with his hand, "I'm good. Things seem so slow now that junior weyrlinghood is over." He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, badly in need of a cut, "What do you think of the wing." He takes his ankle in his hand, pulling it upward, his quad muscle stretching. "How everyone gets along, I mean?" The question is so overtly casual it might give away that he listening intently to the answer. Stretching with determined concentration, Quinlys doesn't seem completely aware of how intently E'gin is listening. She uses a rock to prace up against as she stretches out her hamstrings, saying, "I think we're finally beginning to come together, you know? All of us. A bit, at least. I guess that's what happens after ten months of working together. Though," she turns her head to grin at the brownrider, "you're right about it feeling strange. Slow. All that intensive learning, and now it feels like-- we're waiting, I guess. Still learning, but not-- not quite so fast or as focusedly." "Yah, I guess when you live, work and play with the same people for 10 months it is hard not to be closer at the end." E'gin drops the one leg to stretch the other, "Yah, and living alone, that is weird too." This train of thought is dropped as he moves on with business, "Let me know when you're ready...What do you think we could do better? Formations, getting along, singing ability, whatever." He pulls an arm across his chest with the other. Why not stretch everything if you have extra time. Quinlys thinks out loud, not pausing to formulate her thoughts in anything more than the most rudamentary way; she's focused on her stretching, still, hopping on one leg and then the other for a moment before she stills. "I think-- more things done as a group, outside of class. That would be a good start. Inviting everyone, and not just sticking with our friends. There are only fourteen of us - it shouldn't be hard, right?" She turns around, then, facing E'gin. "I think I'm ready." E'gin grins, "Good." Whether the response is to the answer to his question or her readiness is unknown, at least for the moment. Turning the brownrider starts off at an easy pace, both not knowning how well his company runs and to keep up the conversation. The release of a deep warm breath makes a visible appearance in the cold darkening air. "Do you think people would like to do things together?" He keeps the pace slow, his arms pumping in a slow rhythm, he pauses in his questioning, running in silence. Quinlys is not, shall we say, a runner. Still, ten months of weyrlinghood has certainly done something for her muscles, so although she keeps to that easy pace, she does so without obvious effort. "I hope so," she says. "I know there've been divisions, and sometimes it's been-- awkward. But. We're a class, you know? Everyone always goes on about how your weyrling class should remain friends, regardless of what happens and where you get tapped. We need to keep helping each other. Supporting each other." She's silent a moment, then adds, "There're probably some hurt feelings that you got made Wingleader. It'd be a nice gesture, I think. Indicating that you want us to be a cohesive group." "Yah, that seemed to smoothe over pretty early, I just hope that it is contagious. You know, if two people get tapped into a wing, that when the wing sees they get along, that they will be accepting." The bluerider's last statement makes him pause, but he nods and looks over at her and grins slowly before turning to look ahead again. No need to run into anything in the fog. "I know, and I gave one of the wingsecond knots to Emme." He pauses, "You're a good rider Quinlys, and you've got a level head on your shoulders." He suddenly pulls to a stop, and not waiting for her to stop, "Would you feel comfortable telling me the truth? I mean, about anything dealing with weyrlings? You know, if I was being a moron, would you say, 'E'gin stop being stupid.'?" The fog makes it difficult to see Quinlys' reaction to E'gin's first wingsecond choice; by the time they pull to a stop, the bluerider stopping a few steps further and doubling back to join her Wingleader, her expression is neutral. "Of course I would," she says, firmly, without needing to pause and consider. "And if you'd picked Riorde to go with Emme as Wingsecond, I'd've been the first to tell you that was a stupid move. But," and her eyebrows raise, her expression expectant. "That's not what you're planning to do, is it." E'gin chuckles softly as Quinlys doubles back. Her response seems to be exactly what he needed to hear, as he reaches a hand into his pants pocket. Shaking his head he responds, "No, it isn't at all what I was planning on." Hand re-emerges with a knot clutched in it and handing it out toward her, "So, what do you think? You in?" He grins mischeviously, though that too is probably lost in the fog. Quinlys is not, her expression shows pretty plainly, surprised by this particular turn of events - not after the conversation thus far, anyway - but she is definitely pleased: she beams. Before saying anything, she's reaching out to accept the knot; then, firmly, "You know I am. Thank you, E'gin. I'm really flattered that you thought of me. I'll do my best - you know that, right? We'll make Cirrus great, right?" She shifts on her heels, clearly holding back excitement, but only barely. "Good. I was hoping you were." E'gin grins broadly as he reliquinshes the knot to its new owner. "I hope you're right, that's the plan anyway. Any ideas on anything?" He comments as he turns to pick up the jog again. "I mean, I don't plan on running it like last time, but I think a few extra drills wouldn't be bad - just not overboard, don't /need/ to make anyone mad this time." The pace is slow again, "Or maybe even optional things, like this, for people who want to join in...group runs and stuff." Quinlys tucks the knot into her pocket, evidently intending to put it in place /later/, once she can actually see to do it. Her steps follow E'gin's; she listens as she slides back into a comfortable pace, finally saying, "Mm, that sounds like a good idea. Like, anyone who wants to can come for a group run at X time, and we'll vary the location, now that we can travel. And regular wing-nights. Drinking at this place or that. Visiting somewhere new. Drills are good, too: keep us busy, but not overworked. And sharing information about wings, since we're varying our way through them." She, it seems, has plenty of ideas. E'gin chuckles softly as Quinlys starts to rattle off ideas, the short puffs of hot breath making white marks in the night air, each idea is noted silently as he continues up the run. "I'm glad you said yes." The brownrider seems content to leave off work for now and just get to know the person running with him, "You have any siblings, Quinlys? Where are you from?" Ten months and outside of dragons he doubts few of them really know each other. "I'm glad you asked," returns Quinlys, glancing sidelong at E'gin - or what she can make out of his face, at least. If she's surprised by his question, she doesn't show it; she just laughs, head shaking. "High Reaches born and bred, second of four. And yes, my parents are actually together - rare though that may seem, sometimes, in a weyr. What about you? I mean, obviously, I know where you're from. But. Siblings? Family?" "Of four..." E'gin nods, it's harder to run while talking so the pace is sometimes awkward, speeding up and slowing down as he tries to keep it condusive to speaking, "Hey, that's the only way I know...I mean, I'm getting use to it but 17 years of learning are hard to unlearn, but I guess that kind of life style is out of question now." He speaks neuturally about the subject, "All girls?" He asks of her siblings, "Me? Just me and lil' Aella left." E'gin smiles fondly as he speaks of his younger sister, "It has been for a while, she's almost 11 now I think." There is a moment of quiet before he picks back up, "What do you think you and Olveraeth would want to do when we graduate? Any ideas?" "Aella," repeats Quinlys. "Pretty name. No - two boys, two girls, in my family. My older brother's a Starcrafter. He's twenty-four. The younger two are still working out what to do, I guess. Seventeen and fourteen. Took me a while, too. 'til Olly." There's such obvious affection in her tone as she speaks of her blue. Her breath is heavier, now, and it takes longer for the words to get out, but she's happy, it seems, to keep on talking. "We want to work for Meara eventually. In the short term, though-- I think we'll take what we get. Build up some experience, you know? What about you?" Though it can't be seen, the smile can certainly be heard in E'gin's voice, "Thanks, she's -" he pauses and nods, the clear affection doesn't need him to finish the sentence, "Two and two, that's nice. Are you close to them?" The male laughs, "Meara? With weyrlings?" Shaking his head, "I don't think I have the patience for that, we were so bumbling and awful at first, so bad at taking care of them, needed almost as much attention as the hatchlings." It doesn't answer her question for until after a noticeable pause, perhaps choosing his words, "I'm not sure, not yet. Maybe diplomacy, but being an exile might complicate that..." The two continue their slow run through the fog of High Reaches, asking questions and giving answers, a quiet moment where two sr. weyrlings can learn about how their lives before they were connected by hatching dragons. |
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