Logs:Minutes
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| RL Date: 22 May, 2015 |
| Who: K'del, T'mic |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After a wingleader meeting (in which T'mic was taking minutes), K'del shapes the minds of the young. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 11, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: There is sun! |
| Mentions: Rone/Mentions |
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Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest. Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention. A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind. One of the new duties required of those given a silver thread is attendance at wingleader meetings as minute-taker; truly, an exciting job. Today's meeting was largely uneventful - no shock resignations, no unusual sightings on sweeps, no major concerns anywhere except that the weather has been especially bad up in the mountains over Nabol - and finished in short order. Most of the wingleaders have departed, now, leaving K'del to tidy papers, and to cast a thoughtful glance over towards T'mic. Oh man. Minute-taking. T'mic at least had come up with a plan (or perhaps it was Jorrth's), but it's left him with his nose so very close to one hide, and his writing hand hovering over two others (that are stacked) after he's done his riderly duty in giving respectful farewells to those leaving. Or those who've at least excused themselves enough that the weyrling can focus on deciphering his 'short hand'. It's a task. But he's making some progress, at least, on the good copy. It'll probably be a minute or so before he feels K'del looking at him. K'del's content enough to wait that minute, staying where he is to shuffle through papers, and occasionally nod in the direction of one departing wingleader or another. It's only when T'mic actually seems to register the glance that he stands, stepping around the big table towards the weyrling. "T'mic, isn't it," he says, in a way that suggests he knows full well. He does smile, at least. "How'd you find the meeting?" That pen has stilled, and then gets placed down next to the doubled hides. There's no conscientious click when he sets it down, but those big, ink-stained fingers do make sure it's not going to roll away before they leave it fully. "Yes sir," T'mic answers at the same time. The second response, that needs more thought. He presses his lips together, and after that moment, decides, "You can cover a lot of ground, with all these wings, huh? Everyone out in different directions." More softly, "Skies full of dragons if you wanted." "And not nearly as many as there'd be if this were a Pass," is agreement, spoken quietly. K'del stretches, rolling his shoulders backwards, and making his spine go 'click.' "Once you're in the air properly, you'll see a lot more of the coverage area. It's a lot of ground to cover, definitely; there's never enough dragons to be everywhere, and most places don't need them, most of the time. The trouble is working out where you will need them... and that's not so easy. Can't predict the future." "Huhuh," is a laugh, and it comes with a broad grin. Yes. Being in the air together. Yes, T'mic wants it. He makes himself focus, though, glancing back down to the short-hand, and then, with almost some relief, to what he's made nice on the next sheet so far. "No, sir," comes in agreement to that word about the future, with a sage nod that, if K'del had ever met T'mic's mother, he'd recognise. Alas. "So... how do you try? Do they ask you sometimes? The holders, I mean." K'del's smile, for that, is indulgent: no doubt he remembers well that particular sentiment. "Not long now," he comments, easily. "Another few sevens. Yes, they ask us. Well-- we had some problems with thieves, last turn, and they let us know, and so we were able to put on extra sweeps to keep an eye out. Things like that. We also try and have systems for attracting attention; it's better for everyone if we can be around to help. It makes sure we're valued for what we do, which is important in an Interval. And, well. Ninety-nine percent of the time, sweeps will be completely uneventful. But that last one percent? That's what we keep at them for." T'mic squints a little bit, and hazards, "At Nabol, right?" Remedial local history was yet another thing did in the early months as he tried to catch himself up. "So is that how come you want them to- oh. Wait. You mean ways for them to get your attention?" A background correction of, "Our," murmured low. K'del confirms 'Nabol' with an approving nod, answering the rest in actual words as he tucks his hands behind his back. "Right," he agrees. "So they... light bonfires, for example. Or hoist flags. Those that have firelizards will send them to the Weyr, or to the watchrider at their nearest major hold. It's one benefit we have: we can send messages from dragon to dragon. If we suddenly need backup, it's easy to call it in." The idea of backup piques T'mic's interest. He's leaning in a bit to the weyrleader now, an elbow propped on that table. "So what would be a time you would do that?" Then, a laugh, one of those ones inspired by internal comment, with the slightest fade to go with it. Shared with K'del: "Not the bonfires getting out of control, right?" Although his tone doesn't entirely dismiss it. Somewhere, a little blue waits, eagerly. "Well--" begins K'del, but then he laughs, too. "A bonfire getting out of control and threatening the harvest? That'd definitely be reason to call for backup, sure. Or an avalanche blocking a road, or a river threatening to overflow its banks and flood a community... or, really, if you're worried a situation is going to get out of hand. Always better to have extra people on hand when they're not necessary than to face something alone and be completely overwhelmed, right?" It takes him a moment to think it over, but T'mic summarises it fairly nicely (if Jorrth does say so himself) with, "Think ahead." He starts to look to his notes again, which necessitates another pause, and the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips. Hopefully, K'del will be patient with him until he can thing to muse, "We do that with the kids, you know? Except you can control more of what's around you, I guess." And on that note: "What about when it's people, and not just weather or things?" So far, K'del seems pleased with the responses he's getting, as well as patient; his nod, this time, is certainly approving enough, and he otherwise seems disinclined to hurry the weyrling on. "It makes sense," he agree, easily. "In all situations, really. You can't predict everything, but you can make sure you're looking forward in what ways you can. People--" Another forward incline of his head. "People complicate a lot of things. Sometimes, you can talk an angry person down; sometimes you can't. Sometimes, there's things you don't know about going on beneath the surface, and you can walk yourself into a trap. It's-- hm. One part experience, I guess, and also learning how to read people. Sometimes, bringing backup into a conversation with someone just makes things worse." "But are you going to have a conversation with someone and fall into a trap on sweeps?" T'mic's nose has wrinkled up at the thought. He's pulled back from his lean, in a more natural position now, and well at ease, talking more to another man than one who is so clearly perceived as his weyrleader, by the look of him now. "I guess, if they wanted to try get you down there... but for something all, all hidden like that?" It makes him sad, the idea of it. Puppy dog eye sad. "That's part of riding sweeps: we do stop in and talk to people. It helps us keep tabs on what's going on. And sometimes..." K'del shrugs, his expression acknowledging T'mic's sadness, but also moving past it. "Sometimes people do look for reasons to find fault or flaw. Some people simply want to dislike you, before you've even done anything." He lets that hang there for a moment before adding, "And that's not always unreasonable. Perhaps they've had a negative experience in the past, or an experience perceived as negative. Perhaps the girl they liked as a teenager was stolen away on Search and never came back. Perhaps, despite the weyr's best efforts, we didn't manage to bring home their missing child alive. That's why people are so difficult; every experience we have makes us see things slightly different, going forward." T'mic considers each of these scenarios in turn, his expressions changing with each, empathy at work and on display. And then, he settles, and sits back in his chair, and mulls it over for a while. "It makes sense," comes finally, though not fully contentedly. "I mean, the people side. That people side." His eyes drift up toward the roof of the cavern, his mouth twitching as he goes on thinking. "So what about when there are people doing something they shouldn't. Like that one guy at... Nabol too, right? Faranth, why can't I remember his name." Ink-stained fingers are pushing at the bridge of his nose when he looks back down. At least the ink's mostly dry. K'del's mouth draws together, almost as if he's been sucking on a citron; as much sense as it makes, it's still not ideal-- oh, to be an idealist again. "Mm," is what he says, which is at least relatively neutral rather than sad, upset, or anything else. "You mean Rone?" he wonders. "After Lord Ustelan died? Situations like that are even more complicated. What if we'd, for example, taken against him, and he'd won? We'd've destroyed our relationship with Nabol; he'd've felt justified, I'm sure, in not tithing. And... remember, too, that as much as we think of him as a villain, it's likely he had motivations for what he did. When we take sides, as a Weyr, we put ourselves at risk." T'mic doesn't stop worrying at the bridge of his nose, just because K'del has supplied the name, to which he's nodded, mostly certain. "But you - we - did take a side. We had to, didn't we? If he had an army, didn't we have to?" And then, far more easy for him to conceive of, and far more personal and heartfelt, "I can't imagine Jorrth trying to go in against a person. Like, physically." "Most dragons won't. Can't. It's against their natures," says K'del, quietly. Answering the rest is more difficult-- he exhales lengthily, eyes closing for a moment, then opening again, and turning to peruse the walls rather than T'mic himself. "Not at first," is what he does say, eventually. "We stayed out of it for as long as we could. But once you start ending up with refugees... you can't accept refugees and claim to be neutral over the reasons they're trying to escape. But it was a risk." T'mic's nose wrinkles again, at the idea of refugees, of taking a stand, of it all being connected like that. 'I guess' is implied in the little nod, though the weyrling doesn't come off as fully convinced, even after he's taken some time to try and tackle it. This is going to be a 'falling asleep in the hay' sort of muddling problem. "So do you ever change the sweeps just... because?" One of K'del's hands lifts, running through the slightly shaggy curls atop his head; he's in need of a haircut. "Just... because I want to?" The question seems to surprise him, at least a little; he takes his time in answer. "Try to change them up fairly regular, just to... keep things interesting, I guess, but also, maybe more importantly, so that there's not a set pattern. If people know the sweep schedule, it's easy to work around it, right?" Beat. "But that's not really just 'because' is it?" Something in that warrants a laugh from T'mic; that something is explained soon enough with, "Especially when Jorrth was really growing a few sevens ago, and with all the classes and stuff, there were some times I'd leave the barracks and get to the caverns and not even know how I got there." And then, a shrug. "I guess 'because' means... for reasons that aren't holders. Whatever reasons you have, I guess. I don't really know what they'd be." K'del's grin is abrupt, but plainly amused. "Seem to recall I fell asleep up against a wall at least once during weyrlinghood," he relates. "Trying to do too much, I guess. It's hard work. Then there are periods of it being easier... and then it gets hard again." His hand drops back to his side, then back around to clasp the other behind his back again. "Well, we shake things up to try and keep things interesting for the riders, too; it can be pretty boring if you fly over the same stretch of land on the regular. And weather-- there's no point flying straight into a storm. Things like that." "I thought we were catching up and coming through to one of those," T'mic admits, with a little bit of a... well, it's not a full grimace, but it's not a look of comfort, entirely. "He's probably going to hit another growth spurt soon, too," at least comes with sincere humour. The bluerider looks back down to his hides, and nods again. Processing. Again. Silent for more than a few seconds, K'del says, finally, "If it all gets too much, talk to your weyrlingmaster." He licks his lips, seemingly hesitating over something. Then, "This leadership stuff-- give it a shot. But you don't have to see it through to the end. Nobody'll judge you for it. Got to do what's right for you, and for him." T'mic keeps on staring at those hides, but with something a bit more stubborn settling into his expression. "Jorrth's really excited about it, though. And dragons can't wear knots. And if they could, the thread would've had to be way bigger." A thought, a word or two to his lifemate, obvious and unhidden. "I just thought we'd have some time maybe for other stuff, that's all. He doesn't get it, not all the way, yet. But it's okay. We're doing okay. I think." "Weyrlinghood," says K'del, after a few more long moments of silence, his expression more thoughtful than serious, "doesn't last forever. The last few months-- senior weyrlinghood-- will give you plenty more time, too. The key thing is, then, to remember that: you're more than three and a half months in. Can you wait another half a turn, for other things? Is it worth it, to both of you?" He's studying T'mic's expression. "There's no right or wrong answer. There's usually not, in life." T'mic has started to blush a little now, still staring purposefully at his hides. "I don't even know if there is another thing, really." He shakes his head, that stubbornness finding its way back, though it doesn't do so well to push off the colour in his cheeks like the colour had done for it. "I don't want to just quit. Just wasn't expecting it. You'd really think," and now he does look up at K'del, with a bit of a lopsided smile playing at his mouth, "we'd be used to that by now, huh." It may have been a fair few turns, now, since K'del was a teenager-- or in his early twenties-- but there's a knowing smile, now, for that blush. "Good," is what he says, however. "Don't quit. The option is there, but my raising it isn't encouragement. Better for it to be a surprise, I think, than to expect it and not get it." Is his tone mildly wry, there? "In any case? 'Other things' will wait. And if they won't, well, maybe they're not worth waiting for." It's not something T'mic wants to consider in depth. Perhaps, also, not something he wants to try and explain to inquiring blue minds. So he looks back to his hides, and pushes some hair back behind his ear, as if it might stay put. "Sometimes I look at words," he tells his weyrleader, quite out of the blue, and yet so clearly sourced as a topic, "and they stop even looking like words, and I'm still not sure if they're spelled right." The abrupt change of topics only earns a short nod from K'del, who otherwise accepts it without comment. Now, he leans up against the edge of the great table, and says, "Happens to me, too. Especially if I've been staring at things for too long. Even words I know how to spell just start looking wrong. It's usually a sign I've been at it too long and need a break. Go stretch my legs, spend some time with Cadejoth; whatever I need to do to clear my head." "Jorrth usually headbutts me or something," T'mic nods, with one of those 'the honeymoon is never over' smiles that cropped up right around the same time as that little blue. "I don't write too fast yet. The minutes." A glance up to his weyrleader. A renewed blush, although this time, it's probably not about other things. The smile is, frankly, adorable. K'del's answering smile is not patronising, at least; it acknowledges, simply and easily. Of the minutes, he shakes his head. "The minutes are a... tool. The point of you being here is to listen; to pick up on things, and ask questions. Which you've done. But," and he gestures towards the minutes in question, "if that's a hint that I should leave you to them, I can certainly do that." "Mostly," admits T'mic, "I was just gonna ask if I could finish them later." And with the sudden scramble of what might be realisation, "If I'm keeping you, though, sir," right, sir, "I don't mean to be doing that." "No, no," says K'del. "You're not. Seems like it's part of my job, conversations like this one." Beat. "And I enjoy them, frankly. But-- yes, of course you can finish them later. Go, spend some time with that blue of yours, mm? Enjoy the sunshine." "Okay, good- okay. I mean, yes, sir. K'del." T'mic gets to his feet, although not particularly rushed in doing it. "Maybe we can talk again, another time, if I can keep up with all this?" comes before he's willing to start gathering his things, big hands hovering. K'del draws himself straighter, matching T'mic for height now that the younger man has stood. "Of course," he agrees, with a smile that his wholly genuine. "Any time you like. Look after yourselves, all right?" He propels himself into action, now: back around the table to go back to gathering his own things. And once T'mic's finally left, he'll be met with a happy headbutt. The end. |
Comments
Alida (00:24, 23 May 2015 (EDT)) said...
Okay. Officially in lurv with Jorrth, now...like a little brother. ^^ « *Better* be like only a little brother. Hmph! »
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