Logs:Of Conformity
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| RL Date: 30 April, 2006 |
| Who: Bristia, Harley, M'wen, Maja, R'hin, S'din |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 6, Turn 7 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 19:57 on day 31, month 6, Turn 57, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer evening. Weyrling Barracks(#430RAJs$) This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons; the weyrlings sleep with their dragons. The floor is stone, which helps ease the inevitable task of cleaning up the muck left by the dragonets. The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl. Contents: Maxeoth M'wen Vesereth Feedback Box Firelizard Perch(#8812JSae$) Obvious exits: Weyrling Training Room Bowl S'din strolls in from the weyrling training room. S'din has arrived. S'din strolls into the barracks, a tightly-wrapped sheaf of hides under his arm. He doesn't stop and wait for someone to notice him, however. He begins to slowly circle around the outside of the barracks, between the couches and the wall, watching the Weyrlings closely. R'hin's currently in the process of sweeping out Leiventh's couch, coughing at all the dust and dirt his ministrations kick up. Given how dirty his shirt is, he's been at it for a while. His dragon is conspicuously absent. A greenriding weyrling has been watching R'hin work instead of doing any of her chores so when she notices the Weyrlingmaster arrive, she yelps, falls off her cot with a loud crash, scrambles to her feet and then snaps off a salute. Her voice is squeaky and loud. "Sir. Evening, sir." S'din frowns and returns the young greenrider's salute and says, "Good salute, but do you care so little for your fellow Weyrlings that you'd have them get in trouble because they don't knwo I'm here? Judging by R'hin's low chuckle, he wasn't unaware of the greenrider's attentions, and in fact was probably posturing for just that same reason. "You okay, Bristia?" he inquires, considerately - not without a grin - before he snaps off a salute on spotting S'din. "Sir." Bristia gulps audibly, her hand still in salute albiet shaking. "No, sir. Sir." She falls silent and then responds. "I thought I was giving them a hint that you were here by standing up and saluting." She ignores the fact that she tripped, fell, crashed and made some rather unattractive noises in the process. S'din returns R'hin's salute with the same snap as the Weyrling, then says to the greenrider, "Okay, three laps around the bowl for not announcing my presence to your fellows." He looks at R'hin and says, "Nice salute. But three laps for you for the same reason." He looks out over the barracks and says to the two, "Like this." He takes a quick breath and with a practiced bellow honed over the years to cut through high winds and Threadfall alike shouts, "Weyrlingmaster present! Atten-TION!" "...what?" R'hin's plainly confused, darting a glance at Bristia. "Sir, you -told- us we had to salute you, though, or we'd be punished as well. You can't have it both ways," he argues, leaning his broom against Leiventh's couch, straightening. S'din chuckles and says to R'hin, "No, weyrling. I'm not punishing you for saluting me. I'm punishing you for not announcing my presence as you are supposed to do when you see me walk into the room unannounced!" Bristia just gapes at the Weyrlingmaster. She is not stupid, not at all, but sometimes can be a bit slow. Timidly, she says. "R'hin is right, sir. No one -taught- us how to properly inform each other of your presence. Sir." She tacks the latter on for good measure. "Please." M'wen jumps out of his and Maxeoth's couch, upon hearing the weyrlingmasters shout, standing straight and tall along the edge facing the weyrlingmaster, making sure he doesn't repeat Bristia's dive into her couch. Saluting smartly, he listens in on the current on-hand arguement. S'din cocks his head to one side and says, "Really? And that time I came in here last week and shouted that very same thing didn't clue you in at all?" He frowns and pulls out a piece of charcoal, making a few marks on the topmost hide in his bundle, "I'll have to remember to spells things out for the two of you very carefully from now on. You might be a bit slow." "Um." R'hin's look at S'din is bemused. "You -do- actually have to tell us things before we know them, sir. Last time I checked, knowledge through the assumption that we simply should know it was still impossible. I mean, otherwise I could assume you're happy for me to take an afternoon off because you left the room, and I'd could just do it." He seems rather less timid than Bristia about putting his opinion forth, but no less rankled for all that. Bristia cocks her head to the side, widening her eyes. "Now, sir." Her tone is honeyed. "There is just so much that is being thrown at us that it may need to be spelled out, especially such trivial, inconsequential things." No, she may not be stupid but sometimes she just doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. S'din turns to slowly look at Bristia, just *look*. He suddenly bursts out laughing and slap the weyrling on the back so hard he staggers her, "Oh, that's a good one, weyrling! Inconsequential! Boy, if you think something like *that* is trivial, you're going to be in for a world of hurt! Make it five laps, okay?" He grins over at R'hin and says, "And I want *you* to watch her and make sure she does the last two laps after your three are done, alright?" Bristia staggers back, almost crashing into her couch but manages to avoid that and keep herself from falling into a neighboring weyrling. "Five!? Do I look like a runner?" The comment is said in a very low tone, perhaps, S'din can't hear it with his booming laughter. "Yes, sir. Five laps, sir." She does respond in a respectful, if not morose manner. S'din turns and smiles beatifically at Bristia and says, "Do you look like a runner? No. Will you *become* a runner with that attitude? Oh shells yes!" "Oh, I'll definitely be watching her, sir," R'hin agrees, without reservation, his eyes rolling in Bristia's direction. He can't keep that knowing grin off his face as he gives her a careful looking over, either. "Now, sir?" S'din nods and says, "Yes, I think now would be a good idea, weyrling. Have fun!" Bristia's mouth falls open at S'din's responses. " ... ... ... " This time she is sure to keep her comments under her breath. R'hin's response causes her to flush deeply before she bristles (living up to her name, maybe?), spine stiff, "I can manage to count to five on my own, sir, without a sitter. Thank you very much, sir." With a jaunty salute, R'hin moves towards Bristia, winking at his fellow weyrling, pleased with her reaction. "C'mon, Bristia. Five laps is a snap," he says, as he heads for the bowl. You wander out to the bowl. Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#840RJs) Standing on the eastern side of the bowl, you realize why this is one of the most striking Weyrs on Pern. Arrayed around the north rim of the bowl are the Seven Spindles: high crownlike points formed of old volcano flows which were eroded to sharp spikes. The bowl itself is a rough ovoid shape, with a large lake taking up a good portion of the southeastern part. The bowl seems to slant down to the lake shore, and the soil becomes a little looser in that direction. From the east, the slight aroma of herdbeast and wherry hide rises from the feeding grounds. The northeast section of the bowl is full of activity: training of dragons both young and old goes on in a large clearing near the entrance to the weyrling barracks and dragon infirmary. Several small boulders dot the area to the north, forming a winding path to the ledges leading into the weyrleaders' quarters. The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior is a nearly full waning gibbous while Timor winks as a waning crescent. There seems to be a light breeze and the summer air temperature feels comfortable. Contents: Melisandeth Oenoneth Dasmareth Obvious exits: Weyrleader Ledges Western Bowl Floor Dragon Infirmary Weyrling Barracks Weyrling Training Room Feeding Grounds Lake Shore R'hin decides to take advantage of the punishment, and tugs off his dirty shirt, tucking the end of it into the top of his pants. He starts off the jog easily, waiting for Bristia so he can keep pace with her. "Should I run behind you?" he muses, thoughtfully, "So I can better watch you?" his antagonism seems deliberate, for whatever reason. Dasmareth lifts her head from her nap and settles in as if watching the evening's side show. Two weyrlings running laps you'd think wasn't that uncommon of a sight for the green, but maybe it's a slow night... Bristia is running her laps, grumbling the whole time at the unfairness of it all and how it is all R'hin's fault she's in the mess because no one as cute and fun as her should be running laps. R'hin seems to be enjoying the whole thing much more than Bristia, and much more than he really ought to be. "You know he was going to assign punishment to -someone-, regardless of what they did. It's all about setting an example," he says, as he eyes Bristia sidelong. "That, or he just wanted to see if you ran cutely, too." He's eyeing some of the dragons in the bowl, not without suspicion. He's in fairly decent shape, so the quips last for at least the first lap and a half before he begins to subside. Harley meanders away from the lake shore, back to the main bowl. Harley has arrived. Harley waves to R'hin as she walks through the bowl. He'd mentioned doing lots of laps earlier so she wasn't surprised to see him at it along with Bristia. Harley meanders towards the western side of the bowl. Harley has left. "You don't know when to stop, do you?" Bristia retorts, running alongside R'hin as she tries not to fall behind. She is NOT going to be shown up by a smart talking bronzerider who got her into trouble. So she did it to herself but at least blaming someone else is making this a bit easier. "How in shards are we supposed to remember everything and expect to get it right a week later." In the bowl, to the west, Harley bites back a grin as she listens to Bristia complaining, the voices fading as she gets closer to her goal. "I think I'm glad I didn't impress." she mutters to herself as she heads to the lower caverns. In the bowl, to the west, Harley meanders through the archway, into the lower caverns. "Generally not," R'hin concedes with crooked smile. If he notices Harley, he doesn't acknowledge her, darting another sidelong look at Bristia. "We don't," he responds as he keeps pace with her, "He'll trip us up over -something- or other. Trust me, everyone's going to end up getting punished, and it'll be completely unfair. They're trying to break us. We made the mistake of speaking up, that's all." Bristia decides to use indignation as a way to take a breather. She stops, places her hands on her hips and exclaims, "What? Break us for what? " R'hin takes several steps past Bristia before he comes to a halt. Instead of stopping completely, he turns to face her, walking backwards. "Keep moving," he warns, setting a slow walking pace. "Isn't it obvious?" he waves a hand vaguely, as he answers, "He has to break us so we'll do as he says without question. Obey without talking back. Snap to attention when he even looks at us. Mold us. You know. So then we'll do it when they put us in a wing. So we'll be unthinking peons who'll do whatever we're told." The faint twitch of lips might make it seem like he's being facetious, though his tone is anything but. Bristia glances over her shoulder quickly before breaking into a jog again. "I suppose they have a good reason to try." is her sullen response to his explanation. "Do the other full riders seem like unthinking peons to you?" Pulling off her cleaning smock that was covering her shirt, she wraps it arouund her waist and continues the laps. R'hin resumes his jog beside Bristia, breathing a little harder now. "Some of them?" he muses briefly, but only for show, "Yes. Have you -talked- to some of the riders here? Some them lack the intelligence to hold a decent conversation. Some of them don't even know when they're being insulted, or when they're -not- being insulted." He snorts. Bristia's irritation with R'hin seems to be dissapating as he answers her question. "Really? I dodn't think I've talked to any of them long enough to figure out who is stupid or who isn't. I do like F'rank though. He may be a bit ... dim, but he's awfully nice." She places a hand at her side where a stitch seems to have developed. "I really haven't talked to the Weyrleader, Weyrseconds or Wingleaders so I can't say anything about them..." Although they hit the third lap, R'hin continues jogging beside Bristia, making no comment about it. "I talked with one of the Wingleaders once. He seemed fairly smart, if a little... too straight for my liking. You know, all responsibility, no sense of the big picture. It's like they try to break you of all your personality." He chuckles, though the sound is somewhat breathless. "Be a shame if you lost your personality, though I suppose you could survive on looks." Bristia stop again, placing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. A ragged laugh escapes her at the backhanded compliment. "S'din seems to have personality plenty. Amilin is funny in an odd sort of way." She takes a few deep breaths and says. "I wonder if it is personality that want to get rid of or get our reflexes faster. " R'hin grins, pleased at the reaction, as he too, pauses, catching his breath. It's almost as if he's deliberately doing it to distract his fellow weyrling from the run. "Either way," he continues after using his shirt to wipe at his brow, tucking it back into the top of his pants, "I doubt this'll be the last laps you get. It certainly won't be the last ones I get. But hey, if I always have such pleasant company I'm not going to be complaining. C'mon, not much more to go," he encourages, starting off again. Bristia straightens up, drawing a deep breath and resumes her jog. "What's with the compliments? I'm going to wonder what you want or are up to." Her pace is much slower than she originally started the run and her breathing is more labored. "Waitaminit, shouldn't you be stopping by now? I have two laps after you stop to go yet. Shells." "I can't count very well," R'hin lies smoothly, though he keeps jogging, albeit at a much slower, dogged pace than he started with. "I blame it on Leiventh. Can't keep numbers in my head anymore." He's clearly being facetious, and his grin lingers as he shoots Bristia another glance. "What, I can't compliment you now? You women are so confusing. You fuss that you don't get complimented enough, then you fuss when you -do- get complimented." Snorting, Bristia shakes her head again. "You men are confusing. You can't tell when one is sincere and when one is said to get something." For the first time, there seems to be a slight but genuine smile on the girl. "And you don't lie very well either. You better stop running or else He is going to send you to harper classes or cleaning the dragon infirmary for disobeying and you don't want to be stuck with either of those people." "Oh, don't get confused. We -always- want something," R'hin confesses. "I, for instance, would like very much for you..." a pointed look, accompanied by a grin, "To swap couches with J'mian. He -snores- and I'd swear his Arneloth snores too. Of course, I'm selfish and wouldn't mind a better view in the couch beside me." He chuckles delightedly at the comment about him being a terrible liar. "I have that affliction," he says, with a straight face, slowing, and finally stopping. Leaning heavily against the bowl's wall, he calls after her, "I was right, it -is- a nice view from back here." Bristia rolls her eyes, answering. "I need better incentive than that to move. Besides, J'mian has an eye for you. How could I interfere with such devotion." The latter is said with a mischievious grin and an arch look. Before continues on her circuit of the bowl, at your last comment, she reaches down to grab a small rock to toss in R'hin's direction. "Enjoy it. That's as close as you're getting." "My winning personality isn't enough incentive?" R'hin retorts with a laugh. "Poor J'mian's going to have his heart broken, and I try to let them down easy." Grabbing his shirt again, he starts to wipe down his face and chest, and thus doesn't see the flying rock before it hits him in the leg. "-Ow-. You've cut me to the quick. It must be love!" He calls, rubbing subtly at the spot where it hit. Bristia makes her final lap around the bowl and stops long enough to fall onto the bowl in a heap. Lying back, not caring what she is laying on, she gasps to catch her breath. "Winning personality? Once you find it, let me know. I look forward to meeting it." Placing her arm on her forehead, she laughs raggedly. "I swear we're all going to be in amazing shape by the end of weyrlinghood if this is any indication. Shards, I need a bath ... something. Ow." R'hin's still standing - although not so much standing as leaning heavily - against the wall, trying to make it look like the run didn't hurt him as much as it did. "I try not to let it out too much. I think it might scare the locals," he quips. "That, or stir all the greenriders into a frenzy." He limps a little towards Bristia, exaggerating the motion rather more than necessary. "Yeah, we're going to be in amazing shape, or drop dead. I need to finish cleaning out Leiventh's couch before he wakes up." He offers a hand up to his fellow weyrling, waiting to see if she'll accept the help. Bristia seems to be vocally debating whether to die here and now or get up and work her way back to the barracks. She eyes the hand offered warily before taking it to rise to her feet. "You're a terrible liar, remember? I know I didn't toss that rock that hard." Brushing herself off from the dust of the bowl, she heads toward the barracks. "I'll consider moving ... for a price named later. Deal?" "I'm trying to elicit the sympathy clause on getting you to move," R'hin confesses, with a sly look as he balances himself to help haul Bristia to her feet. "Is it working?" He continues the limp as he moves towards the barracks. "Hah. A very tempting offer, wench, that leaves me open for all sorts of shenanigans. You might try to use my body or something devious!" A long look, before he grins. "All right, Bristia. You're a woman after my own heart. It's a deal," he offers his hand to seal the deal. "Ah, sympathy you'll have to find elsewhere. I've none to spare for the conniving likes of you." Bristia smirks, taking the offered hand and shaking to seal the deal. "Done. Oh, and who says it will be pleasurable to you, hmmm?" As the barrack doors are reached, she pauses to peer inside. "Shards, the man is still in there. Gah." "Conniving? I can't be conniving if I'm a terrible liar," R'hin does protest, overly hard. "If it involves you, dear Bristia, I'm sure it will be pleasurable in -some- manner." He edges up beside the other weyrling, listening for a moment, before grimacing. "I can always tell him you had to limp to the infirmary?" he suggests, grinning. "I mean, you don't look that far off needing a healer," he exaggerates, with a deliberate looking over. Bristia smiles sweetly, her tone anything but. "I'm not the one limping and needing to be carried, my dear man." Straightening her shoulders, she starts to head inside, smirking again at her running partner. "Would you like me to piroutte or anything else while you look?" "If you could just conveniently drop something and have to bend over to get it, that'd be grand," R'hin suggests with a wicked grin, as he follows Bristia inside. You meander into the weyrling barracks. Weyrling Barracks(#430RAJs$) This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons; the weyrlings sleep with their dragons. The floor is stone, which helps ease the inevitable task of cleaning up the muck left by the dragonets. The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl. Contents: S'din Maxeoth Vesereth Maja Feedback Box Firelizard Perch(#8812JSae$) Obvious exits: Weyrling Training Room Bowl Bristia ducks her head and heads to her cot, trying not to be noticed by the Weyrlingmaster. Her lips are pursed as if she is trying very hard to bite back a retort that would be directed to R'hin. R'hin, in addition to his dirt of earlier, is now covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His shirt is off, bundled into his hands, and apparently used as a substitute towel of sorts. Heading in behind Bristia, he's got a far-too-pleased grin on his face, his eyes following after the green weyrling until he passes by her cot, heading for Leiventh's couch. Just in case, he offers a salute in S'din's direction. S'din nods to R'hin and with one hand, motions the weyrling over to him while he keeps one eye on Maja still, just in case." Vesereth sits in one far corner in the weyrling barracks, concentrating hard on Maja-- who is concentrating hard on taking a step in a single direction. "Our couch," she mutters, waiting a moment before finally taking a few steps towards the direction he's in. Bristia remembers to salute S'din after a moment before she collapses onto the cot, tossing a towel over her head to keep from groaning in pain or suffering or death. R'hin starts to reach for the broom leaning against Leiventh's couch, but sighs and sets it back down at S'din's motion. The look he shots in the green weyrling's direction is a definite 'I told you so', not that Bristia's in a position to notice. Stepping over to S'din's side, he says, "Sir?" his eyes trail curiously towards Maja, lips twitching. S'din keeps his voice low as he speaks to R'hin, pitching it low enough that it's unlikely even the nearby Maja can catch a word of what he says. S'din whispers "You need to keep a tight rein on your raging hormones, son. I warned you all about how fragile and delicate your lifemates' minds are right now and I know I *specifically* told you that any intense emotion *especially* that of an amorous nature could confuse and harm your lifemates right now. So before you go around making vaguely lewd comments and ogling the other female weyrlings, perhaps you'd better think about how to control yourself better. I'd hate to have to force you to control yourself. But if I have to, I will. I won't allow one of my weyrlings to bring harm either to themselves or their lifemates because of damned foolish behaviour." Vesereth is having a hard time staying in his spot and pitter-patters his tail against the floor as he fidgets a paw. Maja is staggering towards the brown, hands out in front of her just in case the image in her head isn't clear enough. A shoe, unseen by neither Vesereth nor Maja, finds its way beneath the ex-guard's feet as she stumbles over it. S'din moves more swiftly than most of the weyrlings probably think he's capable of. He doesn't grab Maja as she stumbles, but he's suddenly *there*, arms outstretched to catch her if she does fall to avoid any kind of injury. At first, R'hin's posture indicates vague amusement, that changes into puzzlement, then finally indignation. Stiffening at S'din's words, his lips narrow, as he answers in a low voice. S'din senses R'hin's voice is intense, controlled enough to be even, "In case you didn't notice, sir, Bristia's not all that fit. I was providing suitable distraction, and I'll have you know my control's -perfectly- fine. You'd know that, if your dragon asked Leiventh, when he wakes." S'din whispers "Seems to me a dragonet who is only a month old and head-over-heels infatuated with you is hardly an objective source of information. That and the fact that, as you said, he was asleep. He certainyl couldn't comment on your frame of mind nout there just now. Perhaps you were in control or perhaps you weren't, but the bottom line is this: you gave the *appearance* of being only barely under control, and that can be just as bad, though to the other weyrlings, not to your lifemate. Leiventh is a bronze and some of the weyrlings will look up to you because of that. So you need to set an example. And if they think *you* are getting away with it, why shouldn't *they* get away with it? Do you really want to see the kind of mess they'll create if they think they can just do as they please emotionally-speaking?" Maja falls right into S'din's arms-- though immediately pushes herself away, opening her eyes to figure out how to stand again. Vesereth snaps at a nearby pillow in his frustration at losing the game, causing a puff of feathers. R'hin bristles at S'din's low-voiced response, and forgets to keep his voice low, anger riding tones, "You don't think my lifemate would know better than -you-, exactly what I'm feeling, sir?" His fingers are clenched into fists, posture tense. "I am nobody's example to be looked up to. Sir." S'din barks a short laugh at R'hin, seeming genuinely amused as he straightens, keeping an eye on Maja. Since the weyrling didn't bother to keep his voice low, neither does the Weyrlingmaster, "Oh, R'hin, that's really funny! Tell me, do you often have deep, philosophical discussions with one month olds? No? How about talking about relationships with children under the age of two? I'm going to guess you're going to say no to that one, too. So do I think Leiventh has the emotional maturity to tell me clearly and without bias your emotional state? Let me see..." he takes a short, obviously fake moment to think about it, "No, I don't think I'm going to. And as for peopel looking up to you?" He laughs again, once again seemingly genuinely amused, "You don't have a sharding choice, boy! Look at Leiventh's hide! You're *stuck* with it, whether you like it or not!" Maja brushes herself off where she had made contact with S'din-- not in a disgusted way, but more in her own touch-me-not way. The raised voices do immediately attract her attention as well as Vesereth's, and she narrows her eyes at who she ought to have suspected was getting yelled at. Vesereth, mouth full of feathers, weaves back to his rider with a wing out to protet her from the violent noise. With a deep breath, R'hin controls himself, his voice pointedly even, "One-month-old or not, Leiventh seems to have more sense than you do, sir. Dragons don't lie. That's what every rider -ever- has said. Are you calling them all liars? Dragons pass on what they -know-, regardless of whether they understand what it is or not." His eyes shift away, then back, "And I'm so pleased you're setting a fine example for all the weyrlings here, by mocking one of your charges. I'm really looking forward to being -just like you-, sir." S'din cocks his head to one side, regarding R'hin with a smile, "Nice to see you getting your temper back under control, boy. Now, when did I say Leiventh would lie? Oh, and tell me this as well: when did I mock you?" He stops there, waiting. Maja simply stands and observes the conversation, narrowing her eyes at S'din as well. While she says nothing, there is no doubt that her mind is active. "I thought only dragons were afflicted with such a memory." R'hin retorts, "You -just- said Leiventh wouldn't be able to tell you clearly and -without bias- my mental state." S'din nods, "Yes, I did. And it would be the absolute truth as far as he was able to know it." "Dragons," R'hin repeats, slowly, as if he needs to spell it out, "Can only pass on what they -know-. It wouldn't matter whether he understood it was truth or not, or if he understood it at all." He's aware of Maja's presence, though doesn't look in her direction. S'din shakes his head slowly, "No, you misunderstand the workings of the draconic mind, R'hin. But that's why you're here: to learn. Think of it this way: if you saw something you couldn't understand, you could only describe it in terms that you *do* understand. The same is true for dragonets. And those only a month old are *severely* limited in their experiences. Hence, their ability to describe what they see or know is also severely limited." Maja glances towards Vesereth, the brown dragonet tilting his head to glance back. The two have a brief quiet moment before Maja focuses back in on the conversation. "And as I said before, Leiventh knows me. I've been the entirety of his existence, so by your own words how can he -not- know my mind?" R'hin retorts, "It's very difficult to learn from you, sir, when you simply assume we should know things, and punish us for it as if it were our failings, and not yours." He gestures vaguely in Bristia's direction, no doubt referring to the recent punishment the two underwent. S'din sighs and shakes his head, "No, I don't punish you for my failings. I have a *very* short period of time in which to teach you everything you need to know in order to keep from dying as a dragonrider. I will tell you things and I will tell you them *once*. I can't afford to repeat myself time and again. If I have to do that, then you're in an awful lot of danger. Hence the punishment. As for Leiventh; yes, he knows you. But only as well as he can know anything after only having been alive for a month. Think about it, *a month*! Why do you think I tell you weyrlings to avoid strong emotion? The dragonets need time to grow, to develop on their own without their minds being constantly blasted by your hormones!" R'hin's head tips, glancing around the barracks, then back to S'din. "You never told us the once, sir." To Maja, he asks, "Did he ever tell you we were meant to announce his presence to the other weyrlings before saluting him? Perhaps I missed that lesson." Coldly, he adds, "My hormones are perfectly under control, sir." S'din smiles again at R'hin, "As I told you before I assigned you laps, no I *didn't* tell you that in a class. I told you that a week ago when I walked into the barracks and the same lack of announcement was made. Please don't insult my intelligence again in intimating that you are only able to learn and absorb knowledge while in a classroom or while in a formal class. If that's true, we'll have to look very carefully at how or if you'll be able to graduate. As for your hormones, I certainly hope they are. As I said, it appeared that they were not and appearance can be just as bad as the reality, if in different ways." Maja immediately raises her eyebrows, beginning to repeat quite loudly: "Hormon--" before R'hin replies. Spreading her feet apart and crossing her arms, Maja unconsciously takes her defending stature. "I--" she begins a second time, though quiets when S'din replies. R'hin disagrees, "You told us to come to attention, sir. Then you told us to carry on. You never said anything about us having to call attention to you-- you did that on your own. Once more, -you- insinuate -I- am incapable, and that's at least the second time you've done that, sir. You are our role-model," he adds pointedly. Leiventh senses that Vesereth notes in his warm voice, though it is strained with frustration, « Mine wishes to speak to yours in a less monitored place, after this. » S'din nods, "Indeed I am. SO tell me: when was the last time you saw me lose control and start yelling at the WeyrLeader in a public place about something I had a disagreement about?" He looks pointedly around the barracks. Leiventh> Vesereth senses that Leiventh acknowledges the comment, though his focus is obviously elsewhere. His mindtones are darkened with streaks of agitation. "I can't say, sir. I never even met you until shortly before the hatching." R'hin's glance cuts briefly to Maja, then back towards S'din, "And we've been restricted to the barracks since we impressed. Sir." S'din nods, "I know. And I was going to relax those restrictions today." He chuckles softly and says, "And despite your protestations, I still am. You're all free to visit the lake, the bowl, the barracks and training room. You may also visit the feeding grounds, though until we've had a chance to stretch your lifemates' wings in official practice, I'd appreciate you keeping them from trying to swoop down and make a kill themselves just yet, okay?" S'din made the announcement loudly enough for everyone to hear, then turns back to R'hin, "As for you...I'd like you to come and see me in my weyr first thing tomorrow morning." Furrowed brows from the ex-guard actually reflect on R'hin, perhaps in reproach for some bad tact, though Maja says nothing. She nods curtly at the Weyrlingmaster, replying with a "Yes, sir." To judge by R'hin's reaction, he's frankly confused by the segue into the talk of barracks restrictions. Coolly, he replies, "Very well, sir." S'din barks out, "Carry on, everyone!" He turns to Maja and smiles at her, "You were doing very well, weyrling. I apologize for the rude interruption of your practice. We'll practice more again tomorrow, don';t you worry." And with that and a pivot on his heel, he is gone. S'din wanders into the weyrling training room. S'din has left. "I, too, apologise for the rude interruption," R'hin deliberately echoes S'din, with a little half bow towards Maja. Maja replies with a smile and a nod to S'din, her hands clasped behind her back as she waits for the weyrlingmaster to exit. R'hin is given a narrow of eyes and a shake of head. "You really make little sense, R'hin," she notes towards him, then bustles back to her couch with Vesereth behind her. "So I'm frequently told," R'hin agrees. "Leiventh said you've some message of import for me?" He's still stiff, formal. "Perhaps we can go to the lake. Leiventh's there, and I need to wash up some, anyway." It's no great coincidence that he puts things in exactly that particular order. "Only a message of advice concerning your actions with the weyrlingmaster. Only important if you think so." Maja turns around from facing her cot, surveying R'hin again before nodding. "Perhaps the lake is best." Vesereth, grumbly now that his sleep will be more interrupted, lowers his head to follow Maja where ever she may go. "I shall prepare myself for another lecture then, sly vixen." R'hin gestures for Maja and Vesereth to precede him. Maja strides out to the bowl. Maja has left. Vesereth waddles out to the bowl. Vesereth has left. You stroll out to the bowl. You stride towards the lake shore. Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr This shoreline marks the edge of the freshwater lake that fills the southeastern portion of the bowl. The gritty dirt of the bowl gives way to smooth sand. Dragons adore diving from high above into the lake's deep center, often imploring to their lifemates to bathe them with sweetsand. Humans and firelizards alike frequently fish from these clear waters, which are abundantly stocked. Across the lake, the bowl wall rises high into the sky, its face dotted with weyr entrances. A few dragonlengths above the water, glimpses of a level cliff can be seen amidst boulders lining the edge. Just south of here, a smaller pond of water is divided from the main lake by a natural bridge of land. A path leads across the bridge and up to the diving cliffs, winding through a dotting of small boulders on its way. The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior is a nearly full waning gibbous while Timor winks as a waning crescent. There is a strong breeze that creates ripples upon the lake. Contents: Maja Verenth Gyreventh Leiventh Arikelth Obvious exits: LAke Pond Diving Cliff Bowl Vesereth wanders over from the eastern side of the bowl. Vesereth has arrived. Leiventh, knowing his lifemate as he's come to do, is waiting beside R'hin's rock of preference, wings folded, tail sweeping back and forth. He rumbles deeply, a greeting both to his rider and those that accompany him. R'hin, silent, moves to the bronze's side, hand reaching out and running over that hooked nose, along the length of his hide, his body relaxing minutely as he does, as if the contact is enough to ease the agitation he's feeling. Maja seems fairly neutral about walking in front of R'hin, whereas before a month ago she may have been more wary. Vesereth walks between her and the bronzeriding weyrling, which may be part of her reassurance. "What did you expect to get from that argument with S'din, R'hin? Some sort of change, some admission?" Once she's reached the sand she stops, a strange look coming over herself at R'hin's response to stroking Leiventh. Vesereth is distracted by the sand and the new smell. Slowly, R'hin becomes aware of Maja's study, and catches that look. Something like embarrassment creeps across his features, a quick flash that's gone just as suddenly, as he steps over to the rock, perching on it. He draws one leg up, the other dangling, coincidentally - or not so much - remaining on contact with Leiventh. "What did I expect? Nothing. But I wasn't about to let him roll over me, or Bristia, or any other weyrling, by punishing -us- for his incompetence." "Life is not fair, R'hin," Maja begins, though luckily keeps to the subject at hand. "Bringing it up simply angered him more- it is a wonder he didn't assign you more punishments. Not to mention your reciprical use of childish tactics." She snorts, suddenly disgusted with the thought of the argument. "I was close to leaving the barracks on my own, the way he was acting, simply to get out." She takes a deep breath, finally able to search among the waves and the water for the calm she needs. Vesereth is far away from her, exploring the weeds-- and Maja has yet to give him a simple pat on the head. R'hin's voice is controlled again, a little dry, "I didn't bring it up. -He- did. He accused me of having raging hormones, when all I was doing was distracting Bristia so she could actually run further than she'd probably ever run in her life. It worked, that's all that matters. S'din can go hang." There's a bit of intensity at that last, before he exhales, then casts a sharp look at Maja, clearly surprised. "The way -he- was acting?" he echoes, tilting his head. "I thought you would've sided with him." "And why is that? He's our leader, and while that entitles him to do whatever he likes as our punishment, he fought with such immaturity I lost some respect." Maja, used to the way her ranks worked, finds fault with something so different. "The leadership of this Weyr disappoints me sometimes," she remarks. Vesereth has found something-- and without warning, dashes after it. "Oh-- Vesereth, dammit." Shaking her head, she immediately takes off after him. "Get him alone, R'hin. Talk to him then. You'll be surprised!" she shouts back at him as she goes to rescue her dragon from his curiosity. For some reason, R'hin looks both surprised - and pleased - at Maja's comment, watching silently as the brownrider disappears. |
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