Logs:Lessons in Disrepair
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| RL Date: 6 September, 2013 |
| Who: Bria, Ebeny, Darcy, N'dalis, Reesa |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A weyrling lesson at Fort Hold gets sidetracked by the state of disrepair the Hold is in, and the intervention of the Lady-to-be. |
| Where: Fort Hold |
| When: Day 22, Month 9, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| It's a cool autumn morning when the Weyrlingmaster gathers the weyrling class together. It's one of the few lessons these days that contain all members of the weyrling class, given the stage some of the injured weyrlings are at. Many are probably disappointed to hear they /won't/ be betweening, but they are traveling to Fort Hold for the morning. The wing, when it forms up, has Ebeny at its head, and Reesa somewhere near the back left. One might suspect that position is deliberate, given Khiabeth sets a back example with her fidgeting restlessness - she's not great at staying in formation for overly long periods, but thankfully it's not that far a flight to Fort Hold. Not all the dragons can land in the courtyard at once, and so they are directed to land on the road. N'dalis and Suraieth, used to being patient, don't /seem/ to be among the disappointed when the lesson turns out to be something even they have been doing for some time now; then again, the green's mind is usually placid, a soothing sea of calm, and her rider is frequently inscrutable. There's no longer any hint of Suraieth's injury in her flight - she's as smooth in the air as her mind is - and even their landing upon the compressed surface of the road is even. Dal straightens, looking around. This is, after all, 'home' - or was, once upon a time. "Not near the....!" Too late. "...Trees." With a startled squawk, one of the blues narrowly misses clipping the edge of his wing on a tree with branches overgrown and not kept under any kind of control. Ben sighs as she unbuckles her straps and twists around to get a better look at that errant blue, who, in the end, does nothing but cast up a cloud of dust before him as paws scrabble against the ground to correct his error. More clips and buckles are dealt with, then the Weyrlingmaster slides down to the ground and stows her gloves and goggles and all in a small bag attached to Laurienth's straps. "First things first," she lifts her voice to call. "Whatever your feelings about current matters, you do /not/ voice your opinion to or within earshot of the Blood." Because /nobody/ can be trusted not to forget. Bria is probably a lot happier with the boring flight to Fort hold than her lifemate is. But he behaves well enough, if a little quick and reckless in his landing near the road and one of the other weyrlings. Bria doesn't really look like she wants to be here in general, which might be why she's looking at the ground more than anywhere else. No one will recognize her if she's looking at the ground, even if there's no one around to recognize her in the first place. One of the first things Reesa does after she lands is to run fingers through her hair - nothing worse than helmet hair - tucking her flight gear away quickly, before Khiabeth can take off. She's walking through the group of weyrlings, keeping a closer eye on the ones further behind in the class, walking over to look expectantly at Ebeny. There's a twist of lips at the Weyrlingmaster's words - the warning probably could be as much for her as the weyrlings - before the greenrider folds arms across her chest. Home is home, but things can change after months away. The trees are definitely getting overlong, and even the road on which they've landed is notably uneven, with potholes enough that it's probably been the cause of more than one broken wagon axle. N'dalis lifts his chin at Ebeny's words, though it's not the gesture of defiance or frustrating it could be - he looks terribly serious. His own gear is stowed away in that too tidy, too methodical way of his, but he's distracted even in the process, his gaze still darting around. He's not been here often enough, of late, to pay much attention to the changes... until now. It's obvious, though he moves to join the assembling group, that he's been unhappily surprised by the state of the road, the trees. He bites his lip, but says nothing. Her rider may be holding his tongue; Suraieth is not. « It isn't logical, » she announces. « To leave the road like this. I don't like it. » (To nearby dragons from Suraieth) Only a minute or two after they've landed, Laurienth butts her head in against one of Ben's hips, then barely gets clear of her before she launches back into the air to claim a spot on the Hold's fireheights, where she can keep an eye on the class from above and keep as many as possible right there within her line of sight. If those heights are muddy and their edges in a ragged state of disrepair, well, mud is mud, but sharp edges are /sharp/, her twitch of /ouch/ probably not meant to be shared with the whole class. "We'll assemble in the courtyard," Ben decides, brushing off her lifemate's behaviour by ignoring it completely. "Don't go roaming about the Hold yet. We'll get an image of the courtyard from above later, but seeing it from the ground will help paint in some of the details if you get stuck." Bria waits a bit too long to start following the other weyrlings as they begin moving off and Gryth nudges her with his big head before lifting it up and looking over at Suraieth. He disagrees with her assessment but he doesn't actually /say/ so. Instead he scratches his talons along the edge of the road he's at, mantling his wings and looking unhappy about having to wait for anything. To local dragons, Khiabeth, on the other hand, seems to enjoy it: « Do you think they've hidden things in there? » She's poking at one of the holes with her paw, then trying to peer into it with an eye. Why, yes, Khiabeth is easily distracted. Before she can take aloft after Laurienth, she's now peering into some of those holes as if they might hold some sort of secret surprise. If /Reesa's/ aware of the state of the road it certainly doesn't show: if anything the junior assistant weyrlingmaster has a plastered look of boredom. "Come on, get a move on," the greenrider starts waving her hands like she's herding lost children - and it's probably about as effective as that, too. To nearby dragons, Laurienth is never exactly /chirpy/, but there's a clear sense of dissatisfaction conveyed as paws start picking apart the road. « Leave it alone. You are not here to /dig/. » Suraieth, too, will inspect the road - but unlike Khiabeth, she's not pleased, and unlike Gryth, she's not unhappy at having to wait. /Hers/ is the inspection of curiosity and dismay, a continued sense of which is projected to the group: this is /not right/ and should /not/ be allowed. Sharing the sentiment, N'dalis doesn't hang back to be herded by Reesa, but moves hurriedly in the direction of the courtyard, as directed. "This is..." He sucks in a breath. At least his words are below his breath. To nearby dragons, Suraieth chimes in after Laurienth with a firm, « You will only make it worse, Khiabeth. Inefficient. It is not /treasure/; it is poor management. N'dalis says it never used to be like this. » It feels wrong. « /They/ are not here to dig, » the other green counters, while nosing at one of the holes. « But what if there's something in there? Yes - treasure! » She latches onto Suraieth's idea, even if that isn't exactly the intention. (To nearby dragons from Khiabeth) Bria skips a few steps to catch up with those close to the front of the group but if she has thoughts on the state of things, she keeps them to herself. In fact, she seems to be deliberately trying not to look around too much and not say anything. Gryth is eyeing the road now, but he's keeping his talons to himself. For now. The windows are dirty. The paving is cracked. And yet those already in the courtyard continue to bustle about as if they haven't noticed these things at all, even as a girl with healer knots clearly /jumps/ over a square of uneven ground and carries on her merry way. Either Ben is unobservant or she's doing her best to pretend that what's so obvious /isn't/ easily noticed, her attention on her charges rather than the high-rise structure of the Hold. "Now," she begins, once everyone has made it into the courtyard, "you need to remember enough detail to create a sense of scale, but not so much that you make it into a fantastical picture of the Hold. So, the shape of the courtyard and the rise of the walls compared to its dimensions will help make sure you don't make up a place to go to and end up getting lost." There's a brief sort of smirk from Reesa as she glances over her shoulder. "It's not treasure," she says, with a roll of her eyes. "What ideas has yours been putting into Khiabeth's head, N'dalis?" she murmurs the accusation to the weyrling. Because it's clearly /his/ fault. And it'll probably also be his fault that the toe of her shoe snags on the uneven courtyard, causing her to stumble in an completely inelegant fashion, and to roundly curse afterward: "Son of a llama herding porcine wearing-" there's more of that, but it becomes a mutter as she bends to inspect her ankle. It may be his fault, supposedly, but N'dalis still reaches out an arm that clearly would have tried to keep Reesa from faceplanting if her stumble had gotten that far. "She was /trying/ to tell her there /wasn't/ anything, but... You're all right?" His voice is kept purposefully low, gaze skimming from Reesa to Ebeny, and then up to the walls of Fort, climbing as high as they do. "So we don't want too many details, ma'am? Just a sense of things, rather than the specifics?" His tone implies that that's probably for the best, really; his expression is more and more dismayed. One good thing about looking at the ground more than anything else is that Bria picks her way carefully over here and there without tripping on anything. Her gaze flitters over to Reesa when the woman stumbles but, despite her mouth opening, she doesn't say anything. But she does look away again and finally actually works on taking in the surroundings that she's already fairly familiar with. Or was. "Wouldn't you still just come to Fort?" she finally speaks up without looking at anyone she's questioning. "If you use too many specific details, you won't get where you're going. Let's say that you add specific dragons on the heights and colour the Hold blue; you won't make it." There's no wiggle-room in how Ben puts this to the class, completely sidestepping any possibility of reaching a destination at a different /when/. "Too many embellishments is a risky thing. Your images need to be accurate and clear so far as structure and main points of observation go. If you accidentally take Fort's courtyard and Boll's heights, you won't end up at either." There's a brief arch of eyebrows over at Reesa, yet she keeps from asking anything of her assistant. "Fine, fine," the greenrider tries for dismissive. Reesa's /trying/ to pretend like that whole stumble thing never happened, even if she's favoring her other leg a little as she lounges into a waiting pose. She's listening, sort of, to Ebeny, but her gaze is wandering over the Hold with brows rising the more she examines the dirty facade of once-great splendor. Bria's question earns a flickered gaze, and just as quick a look at Ebeny, as if curious how she'll answer that: maybe there's a twist of lips in there. "Can you share with us what a good image looks like?" N'dalis wants to know, having squeezed his features together in consideration. "I think I understand what you're saying, but an example'd be good." It probably doesn't help that he's still so distracted, see - bothered, really. His gaze keeps meandering about, finding some other piece of information to stow away for later horror and disgust. That will suffice for Bria. She has a small nod and doesn't ask anymore questions, glancing at N'dalis when he speaks up before resuming her survey of the Hold. It's a fair question and she probably has her own other ideas but she seems to prefer silence for the moment, not one to like talking in front of a bunch of people. "Before we go, I'll have Laurienth show your dragons the image she could have used to get here," Ben promises, if only to try and forestall any uproar when she otherwise, for the moment, flat-out refuses to share an image with the weyrlings. "It's going to be your job to try and build one yourselves from this and an aerial view /first/. You need to have a go first, then we'll show you what it could and should look like." Just inside one of the doorways leading from the courtyard and into the Hold, a flash of red hair might be seen by the more observant. For those more familiar with the Hold, it must be known that the soon-to-be Lady Fort is a redhead. Is that some giggling, laughter from a group of girls gathered over to one side of the courtyard? They're pointing vaguely in the direction of the group of weyrlings. Reesa's been pretty good. She's held her tongue and the weyrlings have weighed in, and she can't help it: she's practically bursting: "I'm sorry, but am I the only one wondering what the fuck's going on with all this?" she's gesturing at the Hold's facade in general, looking bemused. "I mean, I don't come down here unless I /have/ to, but this is-" N'dalis opens his mouth - and then stops himself. His nod is even enough, though if he /were/ going to say anything else, he's distracted from it: a flash of red hair, the giggling of those girls. The latter is easy enough to ignore, and the greenrider, calmly, refocuses his attention upon Ebeny... for a moment, anyway, because that's when Reesa speaks up, and he turns, very carefully, to look at her. He doesn't /say/ anything, but, well, his expression? He certainly seems to agree with her. While Bria is avoiding looking at anyone in particular too closely, it's difficult to ignore giggling and girls pointing in their general direction. Reesa's outburst, as it were, draws the weyrling's gaze to her, though, and there are /almost/ tears in her eyes for some reason or another. But she still doesn't say anything. « At least, » Suraieth decides, abruptly, « They have not left our skies to wither and rot. /They/ are still in good order. » (To nearby dragons from Suraieth) To nearby dragons, Khiabeth's bored of her treasure hunt, already. « Everything looks better from the sky, » she comments, which seems to be a kind of agreement with Suraieth. Annoyed, Gryth rumbles, « Then why are we squatting down here? » (To nearby dragons from Gryth) « Because it is where we are supposed to be, » declares Suraieth. « It just IS. » (To nearby dragons from Suraieth) Ebeny is /staring/ at Reesa as if she could make her spontaneously combust if she just tries hard enough, but she doesn't manage to get as far as uttering a single word to her, for another voice rings out and stops her before she can even open her mouth. "Weyrlingmaster." Yes, that /is/ the redhead, now stepping into the pale autumn sunshine. And yes, it /is/ Lady Darcy. And indeed, those girls /are/ still giggling. Ben doesn't turn as quickly as she might, suddenly distracted by Bria and her almost tears, and her slow steps to turn and face Darcy appear inadvertently defiant. "A word, please," the Lord's fiancee requests, gaze lifting to seek out the taller woman's cold gaze. Ben bites her tongue and soon scrabbles together a clear enough: "Yes, my Lady." But not /yet/, since she turns back to Reesa and instructs her to, "Take them home, Reesa. /Now/." « Yours and mine will speak later. » It's not a request, nor is it demand; to Laurienth, it is a statement of fact. (To Khiabeth from Laurienth) « Of course they will. They speak often. » At least that Khiabeth can remember, today. She's blithely obvious to any tone associated with the statement. (To Laurienth from Khiabeth) The Weyrlingmaster's giving her that /look/. "Sorry," Reesa begins to mumble, but she doesn't /look/ that sorry, and indeed, she looks /relieved/ when the redhead interrupts. Curious, too- a furrow of brow focuses her attention on the woman, and it's only belatedly that Ebeny's instructions earn a stiffening of her back. "Do you want me to at least let them circle over the Hold and get an image?" she says to ask, "I mean, they can't listen in from up there," a gesture upwards. Neither can see, which is probably why the greenrider isn't all that happy about it, but she dutifully unfolds her arms and gestures towards the road, "All right, you lot, you heard the Weyrlingmaster." Lords and Ladies come from a rather different circle than, say, Dal-that-was, but the greenrider-that-is knows all too well who Darcy is, even before she's been acknowledged by the Weyrlingmaster. He stiffens, sharply, his expression becoming a mask of formal seriousness, though he's quick to acknowledge Reesa's command when she gives it - and will even lead the way for some of the other weyrlings. He doesn't look back, though once he's out of earshot? "What the--?" Bria's emotions are making Gryth even more annoyed but at least he's not baiting his clutchmate. Instead he's stepping in the direction of where she is but he stops once he's on the other side of the road to wait like she's probably told him to. The girl is quick to start off and, as she goes, she lifts a hand to wipe at her eyes, ignoring a question she gets from one of the other girls asking if she's okay. This is not Suraieth's kind of question, but what N'dalis wants... « Is she okay? Will she be okay? He wants to know. » Her waters are darker than usual; the hint of a storm. (To Gryth from Suraieth) "No." That's not Ben answering Reesa; that's Darcy. "Rest assured that we will find a more suitable day for their training to be completed." /Is/ she glancing at Bria every so often, or is she directing her gaze away from the glare of the sun? She seems satisfied when the weyrling brownrider is quick to move off, but then, she just plain looks pleased that she's getting her way. "/Home/, Reesa," Ben insists, her tone betraying just how much she's concerned that the order should be followed to the letter. As for the Weyrlingmaster herself, she's left to reluctantly follow Darcy into the Hold at the Lady's invitation, leaving Laurienth to fume on the fireheights. Ben's insistence earns a disappointed purse of lips, but Reesa nods, apparently aware of the Weyrlingmaster's tone enough not to argue. This time, anyway. "No fucking clue," is Reesa's blithe answer to N'dalis' query, kind of distractedly; she's counting weyrlings. Her gaze rests for a moment on Bria, with a frown and a sidelong, "What's wrong with her?" to N'dalis. Surely he knows: they're clutchmates, after all. "Come on, weyrlings: get to your dragons. Haven't got all day." To Suraieth, Gryth is a muted echo of the green's waters. Except for the splashing. There's splashing somewhere. « She's fine. » This is a Gryth answer but it's probably what Bria would say right now, too. « Doesn't like it here. I don't, either. » Probably for different reasons. Reluctantly, Suraieth acknowledges that, « He says it no longer feels right. It feels /wrong/. I don't like that. » All is not right with the world: no wonder a storm is brewing in her thoughts. « He says that if she wants to talk, she knows where to find him. » (To Gryth from Suraieth) N'dalis' brow furrows for Reesa's answer, and stiffens for her question; he shakes his head, evidently intending that in lieu of an answer, whether he has any inkling or not. Clutchmates. Right. He hastily mounts up, and Suraieth launches herself soon after Gryth-- into the autumn sky. Reesa's interest in that situation lasts... well, not very long. The fact that weyrlings are launching into the sky ahead of Khiabeth is certainly agitating the green, and Reesa's quick to hasten to her side. Let's face it: Khiabeth's much happier leading the figurative charge at the head of the weyrling wing's formation, and she makes sure everyone knows it on the trip back home. After a dutiful inspection of their dragon wings, the greenrider's fairly quick to dismiss them until afternoon lessons, which leaves them a lot more free time then they're probably used to this time of day. By the time they get back to the Weyr, at least, Bria is practically stony-faced and definitely not crying or anything silly like that. Both dragon and rider are eager to be elsewhere as soon as they're dismissed. N'dalis, for one, will end up back in his weyr with a lot of uncomfortable thoughts to spend his free time with. Uh. Yay? |
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