Logs:Merit and Prejudice
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| RL Date: 25 June, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, G'vri |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: G'vri enquires about teaching methods. |
| Where: Records Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ebeny/Mentions, Aislara/Mentions |
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| The Records is not usually a place of sanctuary for many, though it is often a place of sanctuary for the woman who has a reputation for being far too pedantic about hidework and records and histories. Hattie has only the recordkeepers for company at the moment, her daughter not numbered among them this afternoon, and she's chosen to occupy one of the seats at the main cluster of tables, the collected tabletops covered with an array of scrolls and bound texts, some of which look like they'd be safer simply out of the path of light. She's cradling one of them, the scroll open in her lap, text supported by both hands. The formerly Southern bronzerider doesn't really make a habit of hanging out in Fort's records, but today must be a day that needs extra stuff to do. That or perhaps someone actually told him to do something here because when he arrives, he doesn't immediately look lost. G'vri looks as though he has something to find, he's just not sure where to find it yet. A glance may be spared toward his company, but it's not long enough for him to realize who that person actually is. Motion automatically draws Hattie's dark gaze up from the scroll she supports so carefully, and then, just as quickly, she looks down at it once again, reluctant to give her attention to anything else. And yet... She waits, perhaps expecting G'vri to immediately and efficiently locate what he wants, or begin what he wishes, and when she eventually glances up at him once more, it's not so long after he's spared her the same. Her sigh is as silent as it possibly can be, most obvious in the slight heave of her shoulders. "Can we help you?" she asks. Presumably her and the recordskeepers. G'vri looks at various book bindings as he passes them, maybe not aware that his looking is distracting to anyone else. The question makes him turn toward the woman, though, pausing when he recognizes her and then hesitating while he tries to come up with the proper thing to say. He goes with, "No, no, ma'am. I wouldn't want to be an imposition." He starts to glance back at the nearest shelf, then thinks to ask, "Does Fort keep records on its methods of weyrling training?" It might be good to know if they exist before he keeps looking, at the very least. "...I'll ignore the fact that you don't want to be an imposition and yet ask for assistance anyway," Hattie declares, unable to sidestep being pedantic and pointing that out, even as she only compounds her problem by not ignoring it. Nevertheless, she doesn't sound too put out by G'vri's enquiry, and poses one of her own in return, "Why?" Only then does she get to an actual, useful answer. "You'd be best going to speak to the Weyrlingmaster, Ebeny, or one of her more long-serving assistants, Aislara. Our methods of training weyrlings and weyrlingstaff are not so similar to other Weyrs. To the best of my knowledge, those records are kept in the weyrling complex." That she points out his contradiction makes the young bronzerider smile somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry," is a quick apology before he's moving on to answer her question. "My brother is one of your candidates, ma'am. As are his friend and his friend's sister." Among others of whom G'vri has become acquainted. "I was curious what they might be in for. And I thought," he pauses, trying to gauge the woman in the moment before claiming his ulterior motives, "I was hoping perhaps the Weyrlingmaster would appreciate my efforts to learn more before I approached her about becoming an assistant. It makes sense that they'd be in the weyrling complex, though." Even if that's less convenient for what he'd wanted to do. Hattie arches a brow. "You would be your brother's instructor? Potentially, for the both of you. You're a braver man than many; holding rank over family isn't something known to go smoothly." She sits back a little in her seat, though she keeps that scroll unravelled before her, concealing from the base of her ribcage to her lap. "But why?" she presses, the question the tiniest bit different now. "...I'm not sure that I'd call many of the Weyrlingmaster's recent appointments 'conventional'," she has to confess. "There's a training programme. Staggered introduction to assisting. No just getting flung at weyrlings." "Unless he Impressed the gold that might be out there," a suggestion that makes him grin for just a moment, "I'll hold rank over him regardless. At least until he graduates." G'vri looks at Hattie for verification, though. That's right here, right? "He might not Impress at all. He hasn't before. But odds are that at least one of them will. Even if they don't, I'd enjoy being able to help teach new weyrlings how to become dragonriders. I think I'd be good at it. Isn't that how all assistants start?" He's really not sure, given what she's just mentioned about a lack of conventional appointments. "But not in such close quarters," Hattie counters, her comment a little dismissive even before she's finished speaking, the words uttered under her breath. Wherever his remark about odds brings her, it can't be anywhere good, for her answer to that much is a darker, heavier, "...I would've thought people would have learned that odds mean very little where hatchlings are concerned." She lets herself dwell for only a few seconds, her stare blank and unseeing, before she manages to drag herself back to reality. "I've seen some assistants chosen who clearly need a better understanding of themselves as well as others. I don't expect it's a prerequisite - enthusiasm and good intentions are an easier, and just as valid, route in." "If it's any consolation, Weyrwoman, I've been ordering him around his whole life." It's clearly meant to be a joke, something to lighten the moment and perhaps her first major impression of him. Who wants that burdened by tragedy? "I look forward to speaking with the Weyrlingmaster, in that case. If there's a chance that she won't laugh me back to Sandstone." G'vri is aware that it's a possibility, regardless. Hattie tries a smile, she really does, but she doesn't quite make it, and it ends up as more of a twitch of her lips than anything else. "I'd... avoid mentioning your wing, if you can, until she's decided one way or another," she suggests. "Your wing and hers - at least the one she sometimes flies with - have a... less than pleasant history, so far as recent turns go. If you want to be accepted, I'd keep that information back until she's decided whether she wants you on her team or not." She shrugs. "Hopefully, for you, your merits will win out over prejudice." It's all she can offer by way of assistance for the moment, the tilt of her head half dismissal and half question. Anything else? G'vri might have questions about the wing issues, or maybe even protests, judging by the confused look on his face, but he ultimately keeps them to himself if he does. Instead he nods, offers the Weyrwoman a pleasant smile and says, "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it." Then he's turning back to leave the way he'd arrived, glancing at the shelves as he passes by them. |
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