Logs:New Shoes
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 22 August, 2014 |
| Who: V'ros, R'hin, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Zmeyth is learning unmanned flight. R'hin has some insight for V'ros. Edyis shows up at the end. |
| Where: East Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear, cloudless, warm. |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Cut short on my end - R'hin and Edyis feel free to add what happened after. |
    |
| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space. Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. A cloudless expanse of cerulean greeted the weyrlings on this day of their unmanned fight practice, Rukbat shining bright high above. They have been working on their flying skills for almost a month now and it's clear there's been major improvements. Most dragons are happily soaring short stints across the bowl, under the watchful tutelage of Quinlys, of course. Zmeyth has learned the quick of it since his initial trouble gliding off the ground, and by the end of their lesson for the day, is winging higher. V'ros is on the ground, shielding his eyes from the sun, with a big, goofy grin on his face. Some of the other weyrlings are shouting encouragement, but his brown needs none - his accomplishments stand on their own. R'hin hasn't exactly been a commonly spotted face around the Weyr since the Hatching -- as with much of his wing. Today, however, the weyrling dragons are flying, and it's by absolutely no coincidence that the Savannah Wingleader happens to be jogging around the bowl. It's not the first time he's been around in a non-obvious way during the weyrling lessons, though this time he's obviously taking note of the lesson to hand, and he's not the only one -- there's a smattering of riders, and a few other Wingleaders or seconds, keeping a close eye on the progress of the weyrlings and their dragons. R'hin's jogging slows as he does another round of the bowl, settling into a walk and slowing as he veers towards where V'ros is seated, his approach notable if only for the fact that he casts a shadow over the weyrling. "He looks as if he's enjoying it," the bronzerider notes, though he's watching the rider rather than the dragon. The presence of so many ranking dragonriders 'should' cause the weyrlings to be anxious, but they're all so caught up in their dragons that they spare little attention to their audience. And who can blame them, with the way the dragons are soaring and diving, exploring their newfound freedom. V'ros doesn't notice R'hin until he's upon him and the shadow is cast. "Yeah," he says, pushing himself up and dusting off his pants, "we all are. We're finally.. well.. they're finally.. flying." But the thrill and exhilaration of the experience is obviously spread to the brown weyrling, his voice taking on that breathless quality. His goofy smile is replaced by a more sensible one. "Nice to see you again, sir." "Won't be too much longer till you're flying," R'hin says, with a low-throated chuckle. Running a hand through still-damp hair, the Wingleader crouches beside the weyrling as if stopping to catch his breath, though it doesn't look like he needs it. "Unless Quinlys is about, R'hin serves well enough," he murmurs. "How are you two getting on?" his head cocks, pale eyes curious and interested. Speaking of the Weyrlingmaster - V'ros gives a quick glance her way, but she's too busy yelling at someone else to overhear the sentiment. "Me and Zmeyth? We're.. ok. We're still.. learning." He would probably be wringing his hands right now if it wasn't 'R'hin' he was talking to. "Zmeyth is starting to compromise, and he's not trying to get me to.. do things, like before." Then, on second thought, "Me and Quinlys? She's.. good.. at her job. Sometimes.. too good?" Just to cover all his bases. It's clear from the slow nod from R'hin that the question was about Zmeyth, not Quinlys, though he's quiet until V'ros finishes speaking. "Leiventh and I struggled a lot, at the start." He pauses, glances sidelong -- the bronze isn't really visible from here, but there are several dragons up on the rim, taking in the sun -- "I struggled a lot," he corrects, a dry amusement in his voice. "Dragons don't have our baggage." A twitch of lips finally follows this, before he says, "Quinlys knows her stuff," there's a fair bit of respect in the bronzerider's voice for the bluerider. "You're lucky. If you'd had my Weyrlingmaster," even after all these Turns, he still grimaces, perhaps inadvertantly, given the awkward clearing of throat that follows. Taken aback, V'ros stares at the older man, blinking a couple times. "You? Struggled?" It is such a far-fetched prospect, to this weyrling anyway; he shakes his head and focuses his eyes on the sky, where Zmeyth is zipping around with his clutch siblings. "How did you.. manage? I think we've.. gotten over the worst part, but.. sometimes.." He shifts, letting the sentence hang in the gravest sense. "It's hard. Harder than I thought it would be." Grimacing, he shakes his head and quickly comes to his own defense - Quinlys's too. "I didn't.. didn't mean she was a 'bad' Weyrlingmaster. I know if it wasn't for her.. help.. some of these times, we wouldn't be where we are but.. I don't know, she just knows a lot." "It isn't easy to -- to share everything with someone, whether you love them or not," R'hin says, slowly and quietly, his hand rubbing against the stubble on his chin, glance following V'ros' briefly towards the brown. "Leiventh and I... we made peace with each other's failings and foibles, but it took a long time, and a lot of scarring. The beauty is, he forgets -- but I don't. I think that gives him the better part of the deal." The Wingleader's chuckling darkly under his breath. It's the latter statement that draws pale eyes back to the weyrling again. "She knows a lot," he agrees, with a fleeting smile, "Not much wiggle room there?" "That sounds a lot like Zmeyth and me," V'ros says quietly, running a hand over his close-shaved hair. "We are.. so different. Too different." His good-humor is momentarily derailed, a frown etching itself into his face and causing a furrow in his brow. "Quinlys? No, no wiggle room. It's hard to.. live up to her ideal of perfection, because we're.. we're just not. We'll never be 'that'. We're.. whatever we are. That has to be good enough," though he phrases it more like a question, glancing anxiously to R'hin. R'hin's gaze is on the dragons again, now. "Some people suggest you can change a dragon. Don't get me wrong -- dragons change, especially once they settle into adulthood. But they change less than we'd like to believe, because they don't have the benefit of past experience -- they don't remember, unless you do, and sometimes it's easier to let... some things go. But," he stretches a hand out to clap the weyrling's shoulder lightly, "You'll find your way. I won't lie and say it will be easy or quick, but there'll be balance in some things and a constant struggle in others. For some of us -- that never really goes away." Resting his hands on his knees again, the Savannah rider chuckles under his breath. "She wants to make you the best you can be. Better a high bar than a low stumble, and the trying will make you better for it." A beat, as his head cocks to one side, curious now: "What happened?" Zmeyth flies past one of his green sisters, curving back into an arc - it brings back the weyrling's smile, only briefly. "I wouldn't want to change Zmeyth. He's.. strong, brave, all the good things I'm not. All the bad things too." He shifts on his feet, redistributing weight, and nods in concurrence with R'hin's wise words. "I'll try to remember that on the bad days. It's easy to say what you will or not, do, until you actually do it." As for what happened, well - a grimace as he's brought back to the present and ugly reality of their conversation, unwilling to meet the bronzerider's eyes with his own. "I've never been good at 'controlling' Zmeyth. I even.. ah, I.. hurt someone. Quinlys wasn't exactly pleased." R'hin isn't distracted by the flight of the weyrling's dragon, and instead focuses on the weyrling himself. "Deliberately?" he asks, tone casual. There's a confused shake of his head, another pained grimace. "I'm still not.. sure. We were arguing. Zmeyth wanted me to stand up for myself, so.. I did. I pushed. She fell. Broke her arm." V'ros sets his mouth in a firm line, keeping his eyes centered on the sky. "It's hard to separate him-and-you, this young." A beat, then R'hin asks, just as casually as before, "Did he want to hurt her?" V'ros looks sharply at R'hin. "I don't think he would.. that he would actually.. not he wouldn't hurt her." But the nebulous uncertainty in his voice and the worried expression are a dead giveaway - he doesn't 'know'. R'hin's expression doesn't change, despite the sharp look. Despite the obvious uncertainty in V'ros' voice, the older rider deliberately takes his word at face value. "Then it was an accident. They happen," the bronzerider concludes, with an easy shrug of shoulders. "Especially where young dragons are involved. He won't remember; you will. It's on you to remind him what happened that time, if it's needed in future." "Right, it was an accident." V'ros is going to go with that, more confident now; if R'hin says it is, then surely it must be. "I don't think.. I hope.. no, it 'won't' be an issue in the future." His face is determined, brown eyes whisking up to the sky again, where Zmeyth is starting to cycle downwards in preparation for landing. It's a purely innocent question, mixed with a bit of hesitation, but he's ask anyway - "Do you.. remember, what it was like, before Impression?" There's an easy, reassuring nod from R'hin that is agreement with V'ros' assertion. This time, there's a longer, more obvious pause before the bronzerider answers, "It was a long time ago, for me," he says, slowly. "But yes, I remember, even if I rarely think about it." His gaze on V'ros is expectant, like he's waiting for a follow-up question. Something about the answer obviously satisfies his needs, but there's still that small shadow of a doubt lingering in his eyes. "I feel.. sometimes.. it likes a distant memory, even now, just four months ago." V'ros watches as Zmeyth comes to a gangly, clumsy landing, and rights himself with a rumble of pleasure. "I don't know if it's.. me or.." Then there's the unspeakable; he continues to frown. No direct questions. "It will always be like that," R'hin says, blandly. "Friendships, relationships, family -- they all come a distant third to your dragon and your exhaustion. You've got no time for them -- and you won't until after you graduate. Some," there's a brief, flickering smile of reminiscence, "Use it as an opportunity to move away from that part of their lives. Others seek to recapture what was lost. But," a slight shrug of shoulders as he straightens, squinting upwards, "The thing is, you'll have changed. You might not feel that you have, but you will have, and the people that knew you before will feel as if they don't know you any longer." V'ros listens raptly, serious and intense for the moment. "That's good to know.. that I'm no different than anyone else," and a pause, wherein he smiles quirkily, "well, about this. High Reaches is my home, I don't wish for the past anymore, just.. can't remember, like I used to." The object of their conversation is ambling over, a reptilian shadow slinking forward with long, slow movements. Rocking back on his heels briefly, R'hin regards Zmeyth as he approaches, a subtle tip of head given to the weyrling dragon as he nears. "Sometimes," he says, with a rueful smile, "That's not a bad thing. V'ros no longer fits the Valenros-shaped hole you left behind." There's a flicker of wintry cold wind against the brown weyrling's thoughts for a moment, from high up on the rim, brief and fleeting. The weyrlings are practicing their unmanned flight lesson today. There's even several Wingleaders and Wingseconds observing their progress. V'ros and R'hin are off to the side, talking, and Zmeyth is making his way towards them. "Yeah," he says, unhappily, "that sounds right. I don't fit the same shoes anymore." Not that they were great shoes in the first place, but, they were his. Zmeyth is all smoke and shadow, full of warmth to chase away the winter's cold - arrogant. "Then get new shoes. V'ros shoes," R'hin's tone is light; he's wearing his usual casual clothes he wears when jogging, hair slightly damp still. "It's never too early to figure out where you want to be. You and Zmeyth. There are options -- why do you think I," a unrepentant grin, "And certain other Wingleaders and seconds are watching the group of you?" Walking across the bowl in quick (if short) strides comes an uncharacteristically late young scribe. At least one might guess she was late, given the lesson she was supposed to be observing looks to have already begun. Bag slung over shoulder she spots a familiar face and at catching the last clip of conversation cannot resist answering, "Scouting, obviously. But then I should warn you Weyrling, wing assignments are decided in a back room poker game, very cut throat." She manages to sound serious save for the spark of mischief in those eyes. "Good day to you Wingleader, and V'ros. How are your lifemates?" Opting for polite. "Because," V'ros starts, licking his lips anxiously, "you want to see who the strongest is? Who fits in your wing?" That's a tepid guess, but then there's Edyis and his eyes go vacant, registering the scribe without really registering her. "Hello.. Edyis, was it?" "Scouting?" R'hin echoes Edyis even as his gaze is drawn towards the scribe, amusement lighting pale eyes as he regards her. "More like... sizing each other up. I can take B'ren, F'der and Fayla," of course, it helps that she's pregnant, "But Mielline and Taikrin scare me." He doesn't answer the scribe's latter question; in fact he's looking a tad bemused, silent as he glances to V'ros for his answer. "I'm not looking for the strongest," he says, with a shrug of his shoulders, if if to imply the others might be. There's a stunned blink, apparently she isn't entirely accustomed to people actually recalling her name these days. There might even be a genuine smile. "Yes, infact -" fishing in her bag she hands over a rolled up paper, a promised drawing if it is perused at all. "As promised, your copy." Her attention shifts to R'hin thoughtfully. "Fight, Flight or Poker?" She asks as to why they would be sizing each other up, before there's a smirk. "Scouting," V'ros repeats, looking between Edyis and R'hin, a bit confused. He doesn't have time to dwell, as just after Edyis hands him his copy of Zmeyth's details, the brown gets distracted by someone wheeling a cart of packages through the bowl. It's a race between him and another green to get to the cart - to see what's in there. V'ros looks alarmed, giving R'hin a quick salute and both a hasty "bye" before he's jogging after his wayward brown. They're not quite 'that' grown up yet. "You don't think we just pull names out of hats the day before graduation? Although," R'hin pauses, gaze lifting skywards. "That would explain some of the choices I saw back when I was a weyrling," he says, with a low-throated chuckle. It's V'ros he watches as the weyrling retreats to look to his dragon, lips pursed thoughtfully. "Walk with me," he says to Edyis, setting a brisk pace around the bowl. It still allows them to watch the unmanned flights in progress, at least. Edyis falls into step, as requested watching as the new rider and dragon are running off. "Of course, Sir." When they are a more comfortable distance away, matching his pace with some small effort. "Something particular on your mind?" "Some weyrlings... they struggle, with their lifemates." R'hin rubs a hand over his chin, as if thinking, not watching the weyrlings so much as the various other riders watching them. "V'ros is struggling to find his place. Maybe it's with us," he means Savannah of course, "But I'm not sure he's cut out for our line of work. He remembers you," a quick smile, "That's good." The young scribe nods thoughtfully, left hand coming to rest on her neck as she considers what must be an unspoken question. Or so she assumes. "It's hard to tell just yet, from the outside looking in just where they all would fit best yet. He remembers my name yes, but that isn't always good." The last spoken softly. She shifts her gaze to study the riders for a moment when she notices R'hin's attention shift. "You want me to find out?" If V'ros would fit Savannah, she must mean, but the edge of uncertianty in her voice lingers. R'hin looks down at her for a moment, and says, "I take your opinion very seriously." With a sudden grin, his fingers brush her arm briefly, presumably in farewell, since he abruptly changes direction. "Time for a bath. I take it you'll be at the game tonight?" the Savannah poker game, presumably -- the one that hasn't been as frequent of late. "Of course." She comments in parting, teeth flashing in that smile as she veers back toward the training weyrlings, to keep her appointment however belatedly. |
Leave A Comment