Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr
Tucked off the back of the training room, the barracks are a huge, high cavern that stretches far back into the stone of the Weyr. Both of the longer walls are lined with couches for the dragons, enough for a couple of Pass-sized clutches at once, each matched with a cot and press for the weyrling dragonrider. In this day and age, however, the couches in the back have been allowed to grow dusty with long disuse. Hearths are spaced between every few couches to heat the big room.
For decoration, there are a number of tapestries on the walls, looking almost as beat-up as the couches out in the training room, but scattered flower pots with their bright blooming contents provide a cheery touch. Additionally, some of the couches have had graffiti scratched into them over the Turns that were never quite cleaned off: smears of chalk messages or even rough pictures, some not fit for young eyes. In many cases names and dates have been painstakingly carved into the rock, a record of those that once made their home here.
While it's not mandatory that weyrlings eat during the lunch hour, it's encouraged and given the opportunity to eat, most take advantage of that. There are dragons in their couches here and there, those that can be left unattended, snoozing or otherwise amusing themselves. A big dragon isn't too far away lest they need supervision. G'laer doesn't take lunch in the Living Cavern with the rest, though. Teisyth still doesn't want him to be out of her sight when it can be helped, so he's settled on the edge of his cot, the top of his press holding a plate that he's picking things off at a rapid rate. There's a book held in his non-food-to-face hand, and that's where most of the man's attention seems to be focused. Teisyth is in her couch, her head hanging, and she looks bored. So bored. That must mean the book doesn't have pictures in it.
With the advent of flight came the realisation of just how much energy it can drain. And if there's one thing A'rist has learned about his dragon, it's that when he's tired, he's way, way, way easier to handle. The bronze has begun to muscle up, much as his rider has started to put on a little bit more bulk with his own calisthenics program. This is what they enter from now, no food to be seen on A'rist, and very little mischief to be found in Lythronath. The latter goes toward his couch, stopping only when A'rist isn't following. « Tired. » Accusatory talon scrape. A'rist ignores it; maybe the clearing of his throat once he's next to Teisyth's couch will earn more attention from G'laer than Lythronath's complaint did from A'rist.
It's rare that one can take G'laer by surprise. Even when he appears engrossed, some part of him must be attuned to changes in the world around him. So though he didn't look up when A'rist and Lythronath made their entrance, his blue gaze rises immediately when A'rist stops next to Teisyth's couch. The green is up and out of it because there's something more interesting: her favorite bronze brother. She's been freshly oiled, and is all bright eyes. Not tired at all! « I can tuck you in if'n you want. » She offers though, sympathetically. « I know all the best naptime stories. » If she can remember any of them. "A'rist." The greeting is polite, but lacks the normal 'hello' or 'hey' or other variation. Then he waits.
Lythronath can barely manage even the mock-up of a tail-thwap he aims at Teisyth. His front paws scuff more than scrape the floor. He's soon looking to his couch again, and the step toward it turns into a long stretch. It might creak, were he any other dragon. As is, it just feels heavy. The snap of his teeth in answer to Teisyth is equally stunted by grogginess. There's a little lapse of time, and then A'rist has decided how to proceed. "G'laer," back evenly, shoulders squaring up beneath the silver-threaded knot. "You've got the barracks to yourself." Beat. "Had."
He can tail-thwap her; she doesn't mind, weak as it is, though Teisyth doesn't say so, and she's going to look to move past him, rubbing her shoulder along his side as she goes, unless he seems to highly object. The oil feels nice to her, after all, shouldn't it to him as well? No stories then, but she'll escort him to bed anyway. Even if he's cranky. G'laer returns a piece of cheese to the plate that he'd just picked up in favor of using his hand to place a bookmark before he sets the book aside. "So it would seem." It doesn't seem to matter much to him one way or the other. "Is this a social call?" He's not overly welcoming, but neither is he gruff. He's just G'laer being G'laer.
Maybe that oil does feel nice. Or maybe Lythronath is trying to throw Teisyth off course by leaning his bulk up against her. The hot, tired tension of his shoulders is there for the feeling as she goes. « Higher, » he points out once he's toe-dragged his way almost into his couch. The final heave to a resting place comes from some reserve strength, a jump meant to impress. And then he's clawing at his bed. "No," A'rist says openly, managing to keep his tone calm, even if his face has started to flush something awful. "I have a question."
He's bigger, and heavier, but not so much that it has a very ill effect on Teisyth. She ends up veering, but that's not so bad. There's plenty of space in the barracks. « I can see if'n I can nose that out for you, » She offers of the tension in his shoulders, sidling up alongside his couch and extending her neck, just waiting for his 'okay.' G'laer's gaze is intense as he observes A'rist. He rises from the bed, moving paces closer, to a more comfortable conversational range. "Alright. Ask."
A'rist has no choice but to look up as G'laer approaches; the man is bigger, taller... and, you know, full grown. But looking up, even red-cheeked, doesn't see the bronze weyrling's resolve flagging. "You're old." No apology, not even a blink. "Not like the rest of us, and Hasell doesn't count." Now, a little hesitation, but it's to be expected when followed up by, "So does your dragon ever get all messed up about... those dreams and stuff?" And meanwhile, Lythronath simply thwacks at Teisyth with his tail again, and makes no attempt to dodge. Still tired.
Well, at least G'laer isn't the sort to laugh. He continues to regard A'rist evenly as he speaks. There's no flinch or objection for the title of 'old,' and clearly no expectation of apology. Those dreams. There's a moment's pause in which his eyes flick to the green in question whose nose is now being used to rub across the tense muscles. Not too hard, but not too soft either. She's going for 'just right.' Apparently tail-thwacking is an 'okay' in her book. "There are fewer of them as you get older, depending." But that doesn't mean he hasn't had them. "She doesn't understand them. The concept of lust or longing isn't something she can grasp yet. I don't know if she ever will. She thinks erections are funny. And peculiar. But it doesn't upset her. What do you mean by 'get all messed up'?" The fact that G'laer shares this much before asking the question is a testament to his willingness to attempt to be of help.
A'rist follows G'laer's look over to the dragons - especially to Lythronath, who makes the occasional show of a noise to prove he's not simply been domesticated by shoulder massages. Even if he's relaxing. Or is that falling asleep? Either way, with Teisyth right there, it's some sort of trust. Maybe it's the dragon being so peaceful that makes A'rist's nose wrinkle a little to think about explaining 'messed up'. "I don't know. He gets annoyed, maybe." The bronzerider runs his tongue over his teeth. "Frustrated? But," and just when his face was starting to return to a normal colour, it's up to red again, "that might be me. But you know how he is. It's not... clear, always. He just gets... agitated." That word is right. A'rist relaxes faintly.
G'laer steps closer, not into A'rist's personal space as Teisyth is with Lythronath, unconcerned by his noise, and humming herself a pleasant little tune in her mind as she works, but closer because this isn't a question you ask from many feet away. "Are you tending to the problem when it arises? Or just letting it build up?" Really, from the way G'laer is approaching this, and for anyone who knows he was with the Crom guard... it might be a guess that this is a conversation he's had before with other young men in other circumstances, and notably dragonless.
A'rist grits his teeth, and looks back over toward the dragons. Because they aren't risking making eye contact with him. "When I can. I just- well you know how it is. And how he can be." When Lythronath's eye twitches toward open - two lids, at least - his rider glances back to G'laer. "I mean it's not like we have space here. And sometimes Lyn can get loud. Don't you worry about it, with Teisyth?" Suddenly it's easier to pin a sharp, expectant look on the greenrider.
"With Teisyth," G'laer starts after a moment of silent consideration, "I'm learning that she's going to tell who she's going to tell whether I want her to tell or not. It's not out of malice, she's just..." He glances toward the green. Is she distracted? Yes. Okay, "Has verbal diarrhea." He finishes. "Besides, if everyone wants to think I'm a wanker, they can." They might already. "It's not ideal." He gestures to the barracks. "Not that it is for most guys around that time, living in dorms or other barracks. The guys get it. The girls... not so much, usually. But if it agitates him to have it happen, and if it helps to take care of things then the answer isn't an easy one, but it's to take care of things. Mind, I've never had a dragon before, so..." In some ways, his guess is as good as anyone else's.
"Right." A'rist takes a breath, and rolls his shoulders. "Even so, it's not like my dragon's anything like any of the other dragons here, huh?" There's wry humour to it, if also, maybe, a hint of something lonesome. "I guess they have to get used to it sometime, anyway. Us too, right? That's what my dad would say." But no sooner has that been offered, A'rist takes the smallest step back. "Maybe you want to go back to your book, huh?" Did Lythronath just snore?
"He's fairly unique." G'laer agrees, "Although, since Teisyth, my concept of dragons has evolved a lot, so I'm not sure any two of them are really alike, anymore than any two of us." There's a pause before he adds, "I might understand him better than I understand you. But I've got a lot of intel on him," A lot being the relative sum of what Teisyth's come to understand about him. "You're still more or less a stranger." Like most of the weyrlings. "I'm finding a lot of adjustments to make." Like this one, for example. "The book will be there. If you'd like to chat..." He makes a small gesture with one hand that indicates welcome.
A'rist steps forward, the same amount of space he'd stepped back just a moment before. There's no invasion of the couch, though. Just standing more within conversation distance. The bronze weyrling tucks his arms in around his chest, and offers a bit of a crooked smile. "I think you do get him. Even if it's 'cause of Teisyth, it's still... nice." He looks from G'laer over to the book, and from the book back to G'laer. "I don't know, people get ideas otherwise." If it sounds a little like he's forcing conversation, well... he didn't have this part all planned out.
"People are welcome to get ideas otherwise. Most of those people are obnoxious." Implying that A'rist is not, or at least that he's tolerable. "I think she likes him because--" G'laer pauses, his even gaze never wavering, but measuring, "He and I share some likeness. Probably not over much, but enough that she seems to understand him alright and feel affection toward him. He's her favorite. That might make me more inclined to-" He makes a vague gesture between the two of them, "-bond. Or whatever this is. Make friends. That's how she'd put it." A beat. "Were you from here before?" Before Impression, before candidacy, back when they were just Gallagher and Aoristen.
"I like that better," A'rist decides. "That she understands. Doesn't like... try and control him or mess with him or pretend like he's not just what he is. It's good, I think. Him, just getting to be what he is. Without... breaking everything." That's reason to look over to the couch, where the bronze is out like a light, and perfectly content with Teisyth's closeness. "I kind of was I guess," he answers, still looking at his dragon. "My dad was a beastcrafter. Got posted here for a good while. And then when he left, I wanted to stay. You weren't, right?"
G'laer's lips shift until there's just a slight hinting that passes for a smile. Small, and tight, but there. "She's good at accepting things as they are." That much, he seems to appreciate about his lifemate. "There will likely come a time when we'll have to try to get him to be gentle about his tail hits. When he's bigger, and she's bigger." When it could hurt her. Which he doesn't say aloud, but probably doesn't need to. "But cross that bridge when we come to it." He doesn't seem overly concerned about it just now. There's a nod for A'rist's answer, and then there's a little wryness in his baritone when he answers, "I kind of was." No guessing for G'laer though. "I was born here and grew up here until I got recruited to the Crom guard. Then I was in and around Crom area until I was Searched." Then, "How old are you?" His questions are direct, but the tone has a gentle edge for all its pointedness.
A'rist nods, and at length lets his eyes slip off his dragon and back to the greenrider before him. "She might get bruised up a bit," isn't warning, or distinct apology. "But probably no worse." Unsaid, is that Lythronath actually likes Teisyth. "Guard, huh. I just made sure dragons had food to eat. And then asked to stand." A slight stress on the differences, and this time, the lift of his chin that shows something of pride in that decision, and of course its outcome. "Fifteen," is a little less confident, from a bronzerider suddenly aware of his junior status all over again.
"For what it's worth, you conduct yourself well." G'laer's answer is designed to try to lessen that awareness. "Better than I was at fifteen, certainly." Fifteen is the same age as his sister, but he doesn't say this, though they probably both know he could. "She'll probably get bruised up on her own anyway," The greenrider adds after a moment, the tone slightly rueful. "She's a might bit accident prone, as you might've noticed." Maybe she just really likes the dragonhealers. "So, asking to Stand. This is what you wanted." He cants his head slightly when he asks, "Is it how you expected it?"
A'rist nods again, letting himself smile a little for the praise, such as it is. "I know what bronzerider can mean." Looking more serious, "I want to do it right." This time, it's the barracks as a whole, everything weyrling, that A'rist considers. "I wanted to be more than just a kid who helps with food beasts. I never expected Lythronath, though. I mean, even thought about bronze, sure, but Lythronath..." He shakes his head. "Were you surprised? When you got Teisyth?"
G'laer actually chuckles. It's not even the dark and menacing sound one might expect from him. He leans just a little toward A'rist to imply secrecy. "I was supposed to end up with Lythronath." As he leans back, his lips pull into the one sided smirk that's one of his two standard expressions. "Well, not Lythronath, but bronze. Teisyth was a shock and a shock. Green and Teisyth." He says it with similar inflection to how A'rist related that Lythronath was unexpected. "With K'del's track record, maybe you won't have to worry about what being a bronzerider can mean, for a while, anyway. Plenty of time to get it wrong and then get it right. It's been my experience that we get few things right on the first try. But that you can learn from anything you get wrong."
"Even if that's true," the bronzerider mulls, "it doesn't mean I want to try to get it wrong right away. We've done that enough." He lifts the leg that Lythronath once punctured, and lets it fall to the floor, emphatically. Looking back up to G'laer, A'rist tries another smile. "Anyway. I can't imagine Teisyth with anyone else. She really seems dedicated to you, you know? Really... really cares about you."
G'laer lifts a brow, a mild challenge in it, "What, try to get it wrong?" That's what they've done enough of? His eyes follow to the leg, "Is it healing well?" Then, "I'd imagine she cares for me the way you care for him." Put that together with what G'laer said about him having some similarities to the bronze dragon and you might really have some insight there!
"Have you met Lythronath? He thinks it's funny." It might be a cover, but it's one that makes A'rist grin, anyway. "Maybe we were close when we first impressed," he counters. "I don't know. It's not... nothing with Lythronath is the way you'd think it should be, you know? It's just the way it is." He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and drops his hands back to loop his thumbs in his belt, just behind either hip. "I wouldn't have guessed green for you either, though."
"Still not sure that should be a 'we' statement, unless you're trying to get it wrong as well. Otherwise, it's just he. He's done that enough." G'laer's words are delivered in the same way a Harper might mark up a writing assignment, except: "It's easy to lose yourself in the greater we." He glances toward Teisyth. "Don't forget you're still you and that counts, and counts differently than the we." Teisyth, by now, instead of shoulder rubbing is snoozing too, with her head resting on Lythronath's side. It looks like she was mid-motion of her massage when 'zzzz.' "She is what she is." Which is to say that he's more okay with things now than he was when they left the hatching sands. "Though it is sort of the family joke now. Ten girls and one boy, so far all the girls who've Stood and Impressed have gotten boy dragons, and then there's me." With her.
A'rist shrugs a little, and draws his elbows in against his sides, no longer the easy stance he'd affected just a moment before. "I'm not the me I was before, though," is a bit ominous. "None of us are, I guess," seems an attempt to lighten things, though it doesn't do much to get him back to an easy smile. The drowsing Teisyth gets a look, contrasted again when he once again returns his attention to her rider. "Maybe all those sisters is how come she figured you'd know how to deal with her."
"Ha." G'laer's laughter barks once. "If that was her reasoning, then she got it all wrong. Ask Ghena. I'm a terrible brother." Of course, some people would extend that to terrible man or terrible person. "You're right though. None of us are the same people. That's not necessarily bad. Just something to be attentive to. Wouldn't do to lose those parts of yourself that you'd rather keep." He looks to the dragons and then to A'rist. "I don't say this lightly," As A'rist might imagine. "But, if you need an ear." He lifts a hand to wave at the space. "I'm here." And now maybe Quinlys and Ghena will be satisfied that he's doing his part to be sociable.
A'rist looks at G'laer a long time, long enough it's probably a little awkward. He probably realises it, when he gives his head a little shake, and, again, takes that little step back. "I can't see you as being a terrible brother," the bronzerider decides. Another little step back, and, louder, "I should probably go try deal with some stuff while he's out." Another half-step, and then he's looking back to specify, "Not- not that stuff." Another step. "You know, just... I'll see you at drills, G'laer."
Maybe this is the moment when A'rist can identify one of the similarities between G'laer and Lythronath: he watches the younger man intently and even looks briefly amused by the awkwardness, perhaps even by whatever discomfort there is, and the way the conversation ends. When he's taken his steps back and given his farewell, he simply nods once and moves back to his cot, his lunch, and his book.
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