Logs:Maybe-Maybe
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| RL Date: 9 April, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Ilicaeth, Olveraeth, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida wants information on the leadership program. It... doesn't go very well. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 6, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
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| Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr Made private by a thick, insulated door that blocks out most of the noise from the barracks beyond, the Weyrlingmaster's Office is a comfortable, quiet alcove. Instead of an imposing desk, much of the room is taken up by a large round table, with five chairs spaced around its edges. Beneath it is a square rug pieced together with twisted rags that stretches from wall to wall, just leaving room for the long bookshelves and filing cabinets. On the back wall, a tapestry of the Weyr's badge is hung, providing both insulation and decoration. In one corner sits a small green plant, growing strong despite the lack of sunlight in this windowless room. Beside it rests a tea cart, prepped and ready. This afternoon's class out in the bowl had the young dragons stretching and strengthening their muscles in preparation for the gliding that will probably begin any day. Now, however, classes have been dismissed for the day, and Quinlys is the Weyrlingmaster on duty in the office, working through a stack of paperwork with an expression that speaks rather more to boredom than efficiency or any particular motivation. There's a time and a place for everything... Bullshit. Alida seizes the moment without any planning - the weyrling finding her schedule open while Ilicaeth's grabbing a nap after the stretching exercises - and stepping up to the office door, rapping her knuckles firmly upon it. If she's granted admitence, the blonde opens the door and steps in, offering Quinlys a crisp, quick salute before she finds the nearest chair, and settles her ass down onto it. "Come in!" comes Quinlys' call, a moment after the sound of Alida's knock. Her head lifts, blue eyes tracking the weyrling into the room, as she herself leans back in her chair, setting down the paper she was shuffling. "Alida," she says, a moment later, moderating her tone so that there's no question in there, and no judgment, either. "What can I help you with?" "First off...can I have some tea? Mint, if ya' got it..." the bluie inquires about a quick hint of a half-smile, her chin lifting to indicate the cart. She wastes no time in getting down to brass tacks after that request, the blonde locking her greens to Quin's blue and murmuring, "I'd like ta' hear more from the runner's mouth about this leadership thing." "Depends how long you're going to be in here," says Quinlys, promptly. "I mean, if you want to boil some water, go right ahead." Quinlys is not really the tea drinker around here, and she seems vaguely amused by the whole concept. "But, I mean, help yourself. Go nuts. There's probably some stuff there. Maybe some cookies, I don't know." She stretches, rolling her neck, and then her shoulders, as she considers the other woman. "Why? Do you think you've got what it takes to be a leader of people?" "Don' mind if I do... Thanks," Alida notes rather companionably to her fellow bluie, the blonde lurching right back up off her chair and making her way to the service, where she indeed does settle into the various preparations of making her chosen beverage. Along the way, a few of those leftover cookies are consumed, the hummingbird-metabolism of the guard's seemingly always in need of stoking. "Mrph...good..." is noted of the taste of the confections, the young woman then smirking thinly when met with a question by the weyrlingmaster. "'Cause I might be interested," is noted briskly to the other's first inquiry, 'lida then offering casually, "Is this gonna be a game uv' twenty questions?" Snort. "I think I just might." Quinlys lets her gaze follow Alida, reflecting a certain amount of thoughtful interest, though there's not much else to be seen in her expression. "Really?" When her words do finally come, there's a certain amount of dry humour there. "You don't seem to like people very much; why would you go out of your way to have to interact with them more?" "Yes, really..." the blonde notes with a hint of dark humor and asperity while she sets water to boil and locates strainer and utensils. "Don't hate 'em, don't like 'em..." is noted offhandedly, the weyrling then noting, "Ilicaeth's...social personality has given me a bit uv' an eye opener, as I'm sure y'v noticed." Smirk. "He's a seeming natural leader, as far as I c'n tell, right now." The soft sounds of ceramics and metals touching each other, the rustle of fingers upon boxes and such kiss the air while the guard thinks, finally notes, "Let's just say that we'd enjoy makin' the workings uv the Wyer run smoothly." Quinlys drops her forearms to the table, letting her fingers splay out over the surface of it, atop papers and pencils, and the scattered remainders of everyday life. "That doesn't really answer my question," she says, solidly, though there's certainly nothing in her tone that suggests she disapproves. "Being a leader is pretty much completely about working with people. It's about communicating, interacting positively, all of that. A leader can't just refuse to interact. Ilicaeth, well, I can probably buy that. But what about you, Alida? What is it about you that makes you think we should pick you out for this?" A faint roll of green eyes ceilingward might ask for patience when Quinlys responds that way, Alida muttering to herself internally as she hears the weyrlingmaster out. After some deliberation comes the weyrling's clipped answer of, "What's it about *me*? I ain't conflicted, like most uv' the Weyr's leaders, right now. I know the basics uv' how t'run a tight ship... I take 'n give orders decently." A clink of metal on ceramic precedes the blonde's partial pivot about so she can look her senior blandly in the eye, respond with, "*I* have some experience with knowing how ta' competently handle myself 'n others under stress." "Our leaders aren't conflicted," volleys Quinlys in return, red-hued brows lifting. "Maybe some people in the Weyr are, but our leaders know what they're doing. Can you inspire people to follow you, Alida? can you make them trust that you know what you're doing? Trust that you have their best interests at heart?" The Weyrlingmaster is not giving much away in her expression: it's impossible to know what she's really thinking, on this, whether this is a test, or a dismissal, or something in between. "Mhm..." the blonde responds with her typical, bland neutrality, the woman pivoting back around, finally working on pouring boiling water carefully into her mug. "I believe I could, though I'd likely need some backup, some outside experience from those in the thick uv' it." That's just the way of things. For a moment, it almost appears as if the blonde's going to take some sort of affront at what Quinlys might be suggesting with those words of trust, but 'lida stops herself short of reacting in any obvious fashion, settles her stuff back upon the cart in order to reach for the tea steeper and the stored leaves of minty goodness. Finally, "This Weyr supports us... Ilicaeth 'n me. I might not easily give 'r receive trust, but I sure as shit hold it high. But when 'n if that trust is earned both ways, I'll fuckin' go t'the Red Star 'n back ta' do my best fer everyone." Quinlys' nod is fractional, just minute. "What happens," she wonders, a moment later, "when you get tapped into a Wing? I assume you won't trust your Wingleader immediately, based on what you've said. How do you deal with that? Trust is kind of key, in this. I believe you, when you say you value it. But I need to know that you can follow; a leader needs to be capable of both. A leader also needs to be a team player." "Personal trust's a little different from trust in a knowledgeable superior..." Alida notes just over her shoulder as she sifts tea leaves into the strainer, closes the thing. "A person c'n be a competent leader you c'n trust ta getcha' through a situation...while also bein' someone you'd never trust yer inner self with. A leader needs ta' cooridnate 'n... well, *lead* well. They don't need ta be everybody's buddy." A small nod is only for herself, the guard gently dropping the full strainer into her mug of hot water and letting it steep as she answers Quinlys again with, "I worked my way up through the ranks servin' under various folks, and it'll happen again... is happening *now*." Another slender smirk touches the blonde's lips as she factors in a glib, "I've been makin' headway with that 'team' thing." "If Thread were falling, you'd have to trust your Wing with your life," points out Quinlys, a moment later. She steeples her hands together, letting her chin rest upon the top of them; her expression is thoughtful. "I'm not saying no. I'm not saying we can't consider you. But I need proof of all of this. For the next seven, I want you to have a conversation with someone who isn't in your normal circle, every day. A conversation, mind: back and forth, both sides sharing information. I don't care who with. Report back at the end of the seven, and tell me what you learned about communication. And... prove to me that you can lead people. With your interactions with your classmates; with whatever comes to hand. Prove it. And maybe we'll see." She listens as the mint tea steeps, the scent triggering off a sense of balance and momentary peace with Alida, scent-memory taking her to a different time and place even as she remains partially in the *now*. Nothing of reaction is noticed upon her features as Quinlys lays down her rules...the weyrling simply lifting the brewing cup under her nose and inhaling evenly, deeply. For a set of longer seconds after the weyrlingmaster's done speaking, the former guard remains quiet, long lashes fluttering over her verdant gaze as she regards her cup of tea. Low, thoughtful, it comes in deadpan alto: "Maybe we'll see. What's that supposed ta' mean?" "It means," and Quinlys smiles, abruptly, "that when we're making decisions on whom we think might be suitable for the program, we'll take it under consideration. It's not a 'yes', and it's not a 'no'. It's a 'we'll see'." "It's that 'maybe' before it that makes it sound...not so promising," Alida notes from the steam plume of her brewing drink. Moving the mug down, back towards the server, the blonde moves to whirl the strainer around in her large mug, soon adding some honey to the fragrant stuff to sweeten it. "We'll see' is a maybe in itself. Addin' in *another* maybe before it makes it sound like a body'd have ta' move the skies ta' even be considered." Quinlys' eyes roll. "Faranth save us all," she mutters, beneath her breath. "I don't have an answer for you right now, Alida. We haven't made any decisions, and any decisions we do make will certainly be influenced by what happens in the next seven or so. You're reading way too much into what I'm saying." "So a 'maybe-maybe' will have ta' suffice when it comes ta' me?" is inquired almost mellowly, Alida drawing out the steeper, and setting it aside upon a napkin as she instead picks up a spoon to stir her brew with. Nope, not reacting one bit, here. "Others'd likely be given a 'maybe' just fine, since they're all enthusiastic and fallin' over themselves ta' earn the higher-ups' accolades." Though the guard's voice remains coolly neutral, something within it seems to disparage not just Quinlys, but more importantly the whole rank-and-file system itself. Greens lock with blues as 'lida fishes the spoon from her mug, sets it aside...then takes a very cautious sip. "Good mint..." is soon murmured, the woman then clutching said mug as she steps towards the door. "I refuse." Once at the door, the woman stands up straight and fires off a perfect salute to her senior, awaiting dismissal. "No one is getting more than a maybe, at this point," says Quinlys, whose gaze has narrowed, now: she's straightened, slightly out of her chair as she focuses so intently upon Alida. "No one is getting anything at this point, because we haven't made up our minds. And since we're not offering anything, you can't exactly refuse anything. What the fuck is wrong with you, Alida? I mean, you can leave if you want, but if you expected me to throw myself at you and beg you to join the program... we haven't made any decisions yet." It's after listening to Quinlys again that Alida loses just a jot of her self-control, her lips thinning some, her tone only the slightest hint pissed. "What I *wanted* was a fuckin' fair shake, like everybody else would likey get. Ma'am." Another, almost gulping inhale of the fragrance of her tea steadies the guard a little so she can speak again without exploding. "But I'm told I gotta settle for a 'maybe-maybe' 'cause the command element's got *extra* reservations about the bitch who doesn't play by the book, doesn't 'r look all super eager 'n bubbly...fallin' over herself ta' get approval." How those greens dig into blues with an ire that's been simmering for Turns. "I don't want anything I ain't fuckin' *earned*. But I want all'uv it ta be *fair-n-square*." "And with an attitude like that... is it any wonder?" Quinlys does stand, now, crossing her arms in front of her and looking even outright murderous. "I never said we had extra reservations. I said we would consider you. Like we're considering everyone else. Or do you think everyone is just waltzing in? It is fair. But we make the decisions, not you. We decide. And until you learn how to respect the fact that your superiors get to make those decisions? Why would we want to train you up to have authority? Prove yourself, Alida. That's all we're asking of anyone." "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, but you 'n the others don't know jack shit about me..." Alida mutters sourly, her youth getting the better of her, this time. "You people make the decisions; that's standard' I c'n handle that just fucking fine." How pugnacious her eyes look, though the guard's face remains hard and stoic. Maybe she's a new, younger H'kon in the making? "What I *can't* take is puttin' up an immediate, extra mark against me 'cause I'm not the usual boot that's happy ta' be spoon fed the typical weyrling 'diet.'" If the weyrlingmaster's stance and manner scare Alida, she's not letting on. What she *is* doing, however, is thinking like a teenager - one who's been wronged too many times before to trust much of anyone in power, anymore. Quinlys stalks around the edge of the table, approaching the taller woman-- though she comes to a halt a foot or two away. "You want to be treated special, is it? You want us to dance around you, giving you what you want, because you're different from the others?" Now, the bluerider's voice is thick with scorn; professionalism be damned. "You're not special. You get treated the same as everyone else, and if you can't bring yourself to be part of the team, and to acknowledge that there are skills you need to have to be considered for this. You don't trust me. And that is a problem. So perhaps we should change that 'maybe' to a 'no'. If you really want in on that program, Alida? Prove it. Prove me wrong." Oh goodness; that 'special' really gets the guard's goat, Alida's eyes now starting to narrow and grow darker, the mug of tea in her hand quivering with her unspent rage. It's a near-bark this time, though low and still incredibly intense...something designed to get and keep attention while not booming out everywhere. "I do NOT want special priviledges! I. WANT. *FAIR*! I want a fucking single 'maybe,' not this 'double' shit 'cause y'all are afraid what the secretive bitch might do t'yer glittering-glory images. Yer just as bad as at Pars; spoutin' high-n-mighty tripe while weedin' out the offal...cherry pickin'!" And just before she can *really* stick her boot even more deeply into her mouth, Ilicaeth's waking up in his couch, his eyes wheeling an infuriated, highly agitated mix of red and yellow. The blue jerks immediately erect and issues a bellowed challenge to something he doesn't yet really understand...only knowing that his lifemate's *furious* and in some kind of internal torment. Give him a moment to get his bearings, and he'll likely be charging down the barracks, trying to get *inside* the office. *Inside* said office, Alida cannot help but hear that bellow, feel the anger reflecting back from Ilicaeth's mind... and she cringes quite noticably. "'caeth! *Hold*." The rest of her words are all internalized, the mug of tea in the guard's hand splashing some of its contents out as she steps back against the door frame, wrestles with her own and her dragon's highly discordant emotions. Abruptly, Olveraeth is there: there to calm Ilicaeth and to reassure him, with a brilliant starscape and some gentle warmth. "And that," says Quinlys, abruptly very quiet, "is exactly why I might have reservations. Right there. You read into my words what you've just spouted back at me. You didn't listen. You decided that that's what we would judge you on. I don't know what's screwed up in your head, Alida, but I'm damned sure I don't want it anywhere near a leadership position. Go calm your dragon." A black sandstorm of monumental size and incredible ferocity threatens to scour skin from bones, shred flesh to nothing, Ilicaeth *being* that storm. « YOURS. » It's a fact, not an accusation. « Yours hurts mine! » Growl hiss. « MINE. » (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth) To Ilicaeth, Olveraeth is a bastion of calm, the heavens rippling on forever through his thoughts, as he attempts to lay down gentle pressure upon the much younger blue. « Yours hurts herself, » he says, sympathy writ so deep into his thoughts. « Calm yourself, Ilicaeth. Be calm for her. Breathe. She is not in any danger. » She's so caught up in the sandstorm of Ilicaeth's monumental anger and distress that Alida can barely hear what Quinlys says, the younger woman's green eyes mostly unfocused, her features a mask of control just barely held onto, while beneath rages a violent gyre of powerful emotion from not only herself, but her lifemate, as well. If it wasn't for the cool and calm Olveraeth AND his rider urging him to calm, the now-rushing little blue might just batter down the door. But finally, he starts to slow, confusion and doubt warring with anger and the need to fight...protect... and soon, though just before his strong body reaches the office entrance, Ilicaeth plows to a halt in screeches of claws on stone, his tail whipping about uncertainly. Not waiting for Quin's okay, the woman on the inside drops her mug and throws open the door, nearly running right into her lifemate, who promptly jams his nose into the blonde's chest, whuffling at her in leftover suspicion and protective greed, while one of his newly-healed forearms lifts out to try and pull her close to him. Growly-rumble-huff. Well...it's *Olveraeth* telling him to trust the older blue, and though what he's picked up from his lifemate tells him not to... Ilicaeth goes with his gut (as his rider also told him to do), and slowly ramps down his fury, though he remains alert, poised, ready for anything. (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth) And Quinlys? She waits until the weyrling pair are in each other's arms, and then she motions as if to beat her head against the wall. It's for her own benefit, not Alida's-- and it gets followed by some heavy duty pacing. Olveraeth, though, remains mentally 'present' to the younger blue for some time to come, just in case. Gasping, sweating heavily at not only her own efforts to rein in her once-furious blue, but at reining in *herself*, Alida clings to her lifemate like superglue, Ilicaeth trying to do likewise. When a more curious (and less wary) fellow weyrling dragon gets too close to 'his' partner, the brown gets a low hiss that makes him move off quickly enough. Given a few long moments more to get her own bearings, Alida is soon huffing tiredly out to Quinlys over her shoulder, "Per...permission ta'...withdraw." "Go," says Quinlys, without hesitation. "Go and look after him." She sounds... tired. A few moments later, the door will close behind her. |
Comments
Satiet (Satiet (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 10 Apr 2013 05:05:53 GMT.
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Oh, Alida. Sadly, I don't see a younger, newer H'kon in the making. Last I checked, H'kon doesn't rebel so vociferously and aggressively.
I feel like Alida had a much better shot at getting into the leadership program prior to this conversation than she ever will have after it. XD
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 10 Apr 2013 06:42:03 GMT.
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*winces* Yeowch. Misunderstandings suck. Looks like Alida has some self assessing to do before she tries to lead others.
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