Logs:Of Deals, Threats, and Changes
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| RL Date: 14 January, 2007 |
| Who: Amilin, Josilina, Melata, R'hin, R'sel, Shalyn, Shanlee, W'red |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 26, Month 7, Turn 10 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 18:55 on day 26, month 7, Turn 60, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer evening. You stride through the archway, into the living cavern. Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#1000RJs) The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. Piles of summer fruit give off a shimmer of color and a waft of sweet aromas from their cradling bowls. Hanging sheaves of herbs and spices rustle in the breeze, adding their fragrance as well. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. The clink of cutlery harmonizes with the flowing river of talk and gossip as the weyrfolk gather for a hearty evening meal. Contents: Melata Shanlee W'red Jemah Tray of Bubblies(#6808V$) Firelizard Perch(#5030Jae$) Obvious exits: Kitchen Bowl Lower Caverns W'red walks into the cavern, shaking the water off his flying jacket, grumbling about the weather and why he is always getting caught in the rain, he heads for the counter and some hot klah. Melata shakes her head, "What I wouldn't do for dragon hide, sometimes," she mutters to herself. "They don't mind the rain. Of course, they also don't have to deal with wet clothes." With one last jigger to get the water (mostly) off, she heads over to Avalanche table. Unfortunately, it is too warm to go stand near the hearth to dry off. R'hin's apparently not escaped the weather, himself, despite the fact he's walking in from the lower caverns: his hair is damp, slicked back from his face with his fingers. His shirt is damp, too, and lacking a jacket, he angles towards the hearthside. Shanlee grins lopsidedly at all the muttering and mumbling as her fringe drip, drips into her mug and shivers a little. "Evening Ma'am." a hand is uncurled and a salute given the wingleader's way. A long sip of klah is taken, before her bedraggled clutchmate and the equally soaked Weyrleader are noticed too "Evening W'red - Sir." a salute to R'hin and a sympathetic smile to W'red. W'red removes the damp jackets and hangs it on one of the pegs, with his helmet and goggles, wraps his hands around the mug of klah, "Hey Shan, great weather, huh", he looks around the cavern for somewhere to sit, he greets Melata, "Evening ma'am," and as he is about to move off to find a suitable place sees R'hin, coming into the cavern, "Evening sir," he offers with a salute that nearly makes him drop the mug of klah. Melata nods to the Weyrling as she passes by. Once she gets to her table she finds some cider. R'hin insinuates himself close to the hearthside, lingering there for a short while before the heat drives him off a short distance. Running hands through his hair again, he grins at Shanlee's greeting, returning it in kind, "Shanlee," he intones with a nod, adding, "W'red. Watch that drink. Oughtn't waste klah." His eyes follow the weyrling's towards Melata, his grin if anything deepening, "Wingleader," he offers, tone bland. Melata takes a sip of her cider. "R'hin," she offers, rather plainly. She eyes the Weyrleader. "You need something?" she inquires. She has obviously long come to terms that the young bronzerider is to stay, until the next Senior Goldflight threatens, maybe. However, she has never developed the kind of relationship as she did with the long-reining S'rist, and at her age and set-in-her-wayisms, probably never will. "The Weyrleader's right you know. Klah and wine should never be wasted." Shan teases, before turning in a slow circle to find a table to drip all over. "Would you care to join me W'red? We can make puddles under the table together." the weyrling glances between R'hin and Melata, a brow getting slightly raised, before stepping over to a table to one side. W'red takes note, of the short exchange between Weyrleader and Wingleader, but just takes note. "Sure Shan, I'd never do that on purpose, the hands were preoccupied is all, but I managed not to spill any." He grins broadly at the nimbleness of those chunks he calls hands, "Yes, I'll join you, though I don't know if the puddling will be appreciated by the cavern staff," He chuckles and indicates for her to lead the way. "Need?" R'hin echoes the bluerider, a faint emphasis on the word that wasn't in Melata's query. "Not as such," he replies, with a low-throated chuckle. He pauses, seems to reconsider, and adds in a more serious demeanor: "Perhaps there is something-- but it's best done in private, Wingleader. Bring your wingsecond, if she's about." His formal speech might hint at something, but then perhaps he's merely being R'hin. Melata wrinkles her brow in a shadow of puzzlement. "Bit formal there. If you need to talk, then you need to talk. As far as Amilin, I think she's out in the lower caverns somewhere. I am unsure if she is available, although I've asked Verenth to talk to Dasmareth to see what she is up to. It is my Wingsecond's freetime." She pauses. "Verenth says that Desmareth says that Amilin isn't stuck doing something she can't get out of." Whoo. The dragon grapevine. Melata asks R'hin, "And where is private enough, then?" She waves a hand to take in the living cavern, "Here in a corner table? Or elsewhere?" Shanlee chuckles as she squelches into a chair "With hands like those, Pern is safe." winking W'red's way, before taking another appreciative sip of the steaming brew. Green eyes flick briefly back toward the Weyrleader and Wingleader, a slight frown forming but lifting again at mention of Dasmareth and Amilin. About to invite R'hin to join them at their table to dry out a bit, Shan thinks better of it as seemed he had other things to attend to. "Think I'll grab some food. Be back in a moment." leaving the mug on the table, the redhead makes for the counter, skirting around the various other dripping occupants of the Cavern. "The Weyrleader can't be formal?" R'hin queries, tones faintly amused. He's silent throughout Melata's pause, pale eyes travelling over the caverns, touching on the occupants, perhaps notably the two weyrlings settling down. A brief nod acknowledges the Wingleader's relaying, and he shakes his head. "If you don't mind a bit of rain-- then my ledge will be suitable. Walk with me?" he invites, with a splay of hand towards the bowl, awaiting her response. Melata wrinkles her nose and sighs at the prospect of going back out into the rain. "If you insist. Verenth says that Amilin will join us there." Turning to the Weyrleader and Wingleader, "Sir, ma'am, would you care to join us...or we could just go off out of your way." W'red offers with a grin. He settles himself into a seat just as Shan gets up again to go off and get something to eat. Melata says, "After you, then, R'hin." "Water bothers you?" R'hin inquires blandly. W'red's offer is met with a smile as the bronzerider glances over. "Raincheck?" He chuckles under his breath at the deliberate pun, sliding a glance to Melata, then back to the weyrlings. "I'll be back a little later." He nods towards the Wingleader, waiting a pace for her to join him before he heads for the bowl. You wander outside to the bowl. You stroll towards the eastern side of the bowl. Weyrleader Ledges(#12138RJLs) A flight of steps worn smooth with time lead up to a broad flat area with enough room for a gold and her consort to sprall and lounge. Openings lead to a room used for conferences, the Weyrwoman's private room, and the hatching sands themselves. A round table of well polished hardwood sits in one corner and is surrounded by chairs. Contents: Lhiannonth Leiventh Obvious exits: Weyrleader SeniorWeyrWoman Bowl Passageway to the Hatching Grounds Council Chamber Sky Your location's current time: 19:35 on day 26, month 7, Turn 60, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer evening. Melata comes up the steps from the bowl. Melata has arrived. Amilin comes up the steps from the bowl. Amilin has arrived. The pair of dragons on ledge appear to be dozing, though Leiventh cracks a set of eyelids briefly at the arrivals. Dripping, but not particularly bothered by the rain, R'hin leads the way towards the table, gesturing towards a seat in invitation, standing to wait a moment. "Please, make yourself comfortable." Melata nods as she finds a chair to do so. "Amilin...good to see you made it over here." Amilin sets aside the dripping jacket she had used to cover head on the trek over, "Ahh, well. I was just dropping off the laundry." A roll of her shoulder in a shrug and she makes her way over, "Don't tell me F'rank's gone and gotten in trouble again?" Melata sos, "What is the big secret? The Weyrlings seem to be getting all grown-up, so I am guessing you are wanting to talk about them for a bit." Melata is an old hand at this thing. The runner-trading is about to begin. R'hin half turns, one hand on the back of one of the chairs, as Melata's greeting draws her attention to Amilin. "Ami," he greets, with an easy smile. "Please, sit," he pats the back of the chair, moving towards a third. "No big secret, not with the weyrlings not that far off graduation. I assume you've both been watching them here and there?" Melata says, "Pretty hard to miss them, especially when they were first tossing firestone sacks. They still drop them now and then, but one can usually get across the bowl without fear of being beaned." "R'hin," Ami greets in turn, casual as can be, just as her manner is when she claims a seat though she chuckles, "Ahh, good. Not F'rank in that case. Weyrling watching is almost a pastime of it's own, you know." R'hin waits until both of the women have seated themselves before he follows suit, brows twitching. "Good to know," he observes dryly at Melata's comment. "Nothing to do with F'rank-- you expected something?" That diversion is momentary, however. "So. I'm inviting each of the Wingleaders to express their opinions on who they want and don't want. Any strong feelings, ladies?" "Always. Rather like with R'sel... There is always something. But no, nothing in particular that I know of at this time." Amilin waves that off then, in favor of the other, "As for feelings, a few, certainly." But those she leaves off in order to let Melata go first. Melata purses her lips as she considers, ignoring the 'ladies' comment. She looks sideways to Amilin. The two have obviously been discussing just this thing. "Well, the group is small this time..and ever getting smaller as the Interval progresses. I am thinking of Charis, W'red, and Shanlee as among my top choices...." She trails off. Josilina arrives through the curtain separating Josi's weyr. Josilina has arrived. The mention of the brownrider earns a twitch of brows from the Weyrleader, brief interest, though he holds his tongue on the subject. R'hin's attention shifts to Melata, expression faintly puzzled, then surprised. "Three, hm? Avalanche is probably the most populated wing right now." It's observation, nothing more. The three are seated at the table on the ledge, rain-splattered from the walk across the bowl. Melata hmmms, "And maybe J'hev and Luci (NPCS...I have /no/ clue if the NPCs are named or what their names are) as well." She pauses. "...and...Amilin, what about what we discussed earlier?" Melata shrugs, and continues, "But I may be getting a bit greedy there. Anyway, Amilin and I have talked about Ashenna and her brown as well." Josilina makes her entrance hurrying up from the bowl looking somewhat flustered. "I'm so sorry I'm late," she says in a rush, sliding into the nearest free seat. "I was - well, nevermind. Sorry." She says one more time before falling quiet, fishing a hide from the bag slung over her shoulder and listening to catch up. Amilin's nod of assent follows quick on the heels of Melata's listing, that casual air still in play as she points out, "Avalanche was designed to be a wing of blues and greens with only a few heavier dragons to anchor us. We need a few more dragons than other wings to rotate with those that tire sooner, mind you." Then, "Shen was the other, yes." Melata makes no appology about trying to scoop up for Avalanche as many of the Weyrlings she has deemed to be the best, in her eye. Melata waves to Josilina as she bustles in. "Five. You want over a third of the clutch to go into your wing?" R'hin says, incredulous. "You don't think that's a bit... eager?" The slight pause suggests perhaps the original word was 'greedy', though he refrains from voicing agreement aloud. "Ashenna," he notes, "Isn't up for discussion. She's far from graduating at the moment. But if you want her when she does--" he shrugs. "That's six you've mentioned, now." He pauses at Josilina's arrival, offering a brief sort of smile, half rising and gesturing towards a seat. "Weyrwoman," he greets, formal. "Have you thought of B'yan?" Josilina breaks in. "I don't know if he's been discussed, but I think he might do well in your wing, Melata. If you feel... up to dealing with him." She includes Amilin in that last comment with a glance. Melata shrugs. Nope, no appology at all. "That sounds about right. I've five riders older riders that are thinking about retiring to cotholds in the next quarter Turn or so, and I don't know if H'eth is going to be able to fly anymore after that accident during the green flight at Benden last sevenday. I've also two other riders that I strongly suspect are candidates for Wingseconds at Igen and Ista. So, by my reconing, that many people won't quite cover my attrition." "We're best suited to some of those personalities...How many Wings have the leadership experience of ours to handle those who are squabbling and if you think about it," Ami adds with a pause as she grins Josilina's way, "We're not a bad choice for a recovering brown. We wont be as demanding on him with our training structure." At the mention of B'yan though, she again falls silent, leaving that to Melata. Melata frowns alightly at B'yan's name. "To be quite honest, I've dealt with enough uppity bronzes over the turns. Yes, some of them go on to be quite respectable, after I've worked the snot out of them, but for one graduation, I'd rather have it, well, maybe easier. W'red and Shanlee may be a difficult enough thing to inherat, although I know I can work through it." "Squabbling? Most of the squabbling I've seen has come from--" R'hin glances sidelong at Josilina, chuckles, and agrees, "B'yan. As for attrition-- we're in Interval, and it's something that's going to effect all the wings. That's why Blizzard was disbanded. But we may have to look at further consolidation-- but not for a while yet." A pause, surprised, "Are you saying you can't handle one bronzerider?" Melata snorts, "I've handled enough bronzeriders over my turns. I want a break for once. Give him to C'len. I'll take the ones I've asked for." She looks at Amilin, "You have an opinion?" Josilina returns Amilin's grin with one of her own, before nodding to Melata's response. She doesn't look overly surprised. "That makes sense. I thought I'd sound it out though; I -do- think he'd do well with you. But C'len could handle him too, I'm sure." Melata sighs and, for a moment, looks her age and the fact that she fought Thread for too many turns to count. That moment passes quickly, though. "Just a small break. I'm sure there will more than enough promising, and troublesome, bronzeriders in the next Clutch. There always are." "You've been missing it then, with those other two. Or Rilsa's been handling them well enough for you not to notice..." Amilin mentions of the Weyrsecond's pair of mentees, "I think we could handle him if we have to, but why should we have to handle every one of the problem pairs? Take him yourself if you think he needs more watching than C'len can manage, but I think it'd be a good experience for him to learn to bring someone around at a time when it's not a catastrophe if it takes him awhile." "Yet... as you say, and I can't help but agree-- you -are- one of the most experienced Wingleaders. If anyone can handle him, it would be you." R'hin's tone is carefully neutral, despite the flattery. He pauses, finger tapping at his lips in thought. "Would you consider taking him on for a short while? Say, half a Turn?" He flashes a grin at Amilin. "I've noticed their fights. But they always seem to sort things out themselves, regardless of how big an argument. It doesn't seem to need much intervention." Josilina looks a bit confused, glancing at Amilin, and she frowns a little at R'hin's request, but doesn't step in. Instead, she suggests, "If W'red and Shanlee are a trouble pair, why not split them up?" Melata shakes her head, "To be blunt, no. 'Half a Turn' will become 'a Turn' and so forth. You'll have to assign him to me if you want me to take him. I've given you my list: Shanlee, Charis, W'red, P'ris, D'arian, and Ashenna." "And yet, they would bare more watching than B'yan would for just that fact. Things heat up fast with them, and someone needs to be keeping an eye on them that it's not at the wrong time." Ami shrugs, "Sure, they can work it out, but they haven't been tested yet at doing so in a drill with flame involved, have they?" "I had it in my mind to split them up," R'hin agrees with Josilina. Melata earns a level, speculative look, the bronzerider serious as he lifts a hand, "Half a Turn. Not a day more. I believe he'd learn a lot from being under you, even for a short while. He also seems to respect Amilin already, which is a bonus. You can have the next clutch off. I promise." "We don't need a bronze in the wing." Amilin counters in reply, "We need blues, greens and a couple browns. As for B'yan, I don't think I've even spoken really to him since you were a weyrling, R'hin. How can you be so sure we'd be right for him?" Melata is adamant, "No. You are the Weyrleaders and will make the ultimate decision about whom goes to what Wing. If he is assigned to Avalanche, it is because you do so, not because he is whom I desire to be in Avalanche. I will deal with it, if it comes to that, but I am not going to agree with it." "The other wings need blues, greens, and browns as well," R'hin reminds. "As for being sure? I'm not. But since it's only temporary-- I don't think it can hurt. After six months, I'll take him. Or perhaps C'len, once he gets a strong wingsecond." Melata's words earn a spread of hands. "If that's how you wish it, Wingleader." "Seems like you already have your mind made up..." Amilin drawls, "So then why bother ask us what our wing wants or needs?" "I'm not sure any final decisions are being made right now," Josilina interjects. "This /is/ to sound you guys out, and it's important that what you two think and want is taken into account. Especially considering Avalanche's specialty nature. Why don't we leave off the B'yan thing at this point? Now that we know your stances on it." R'hin's head tips at Amilin's tone, brow quirking. "If a you get a firelizard clutch, and you ask for a blue, a green, and a brown, and you get a blue, a green, and a bronze, does it invalidate your requests? That one out of three wasn't want you wanted? And that perhaps others got partially what they wanted, too? If I were to give you exactly what you wanted, Amilin, you'd end up with half the clutch. That's hardly fair." Melata says, "I do not wish it at all. You wish it. R'hin, to be frank, B'yan is the type of bronzerider that either needs to have the snot kicked out of him by, preferably, the Weyrleader or Weyrsecond, else be sent to the infirmary by Thread, to be straightened out. That is my personal opinion. As there is no longer Thread and you don't seem to be up to the challenge, sir, I guess I can only be happy that there is no more Thread, because otherwise I would be quite worried that others might be taken down with him when he makes a mistake." "Your argument is invalid, R'hin. We're a specialty wing, *meant* to be light and fast. Not meant to be the clean up crew for every problem no one else wants." Amilin waves a hand at the whole issue as if dismissing it, "No one ever said you had to give us everything we asked for. We asked for what we'd like, we're well aware it could be less than that or different, but why give us what we don't need when there are do few bronzes to go around, surely some other wing needs him more than the more plentiful blues and greens." "Melata," Josilina appeals to the Wingleader. "I promise, no final decisions are being made here." She glances at R'hin in that, as well. "And your feelings on this /won't/ be ignored. If he is put with Avalanche, it /will/ be because you really are the best choice. And really, he's really not as bad as he's being made out to be, either." "I never said I wasn't up to the challenge, Wingleader," R'hin's tone is even, though there's a faint twist of lips at Melata's words. "You assumed that. I thought he would be better suited to -your- particular talents, but clearly I was mistaken in my assessment of you and your... abilities. Perhaps if you tire of being in charge, a break might be due?" His hands splay, briefly, at Amilin's words. "And you have trained, as part of your speciality, many bronzeriders who have gone on to lead." He glances sidelong at Josilina, but his expression doesn't give anything away. Melata snorts, "You eyeballing B'yan for his own Wing? Maybe Weyrsecond? He needs a /lot/ more seasoning before he can take up duties like that. That is true for /any/ rider, by the way, so soon out of graduation." She obviously leaves unsaid what such might also mean for her opinion of R'hin, but her thoughts on that matter are well known. Anywho... "So." Ami replies with an arched brow, "So what if I have trained Weyrleaders, Weyrwomen, Assistant weyrlingmasters, Weyrseconds, and so on... Does that change the fact that the wing I currently am a part of doesn't need a bronze just now?" Josilina looks sharply at her Weyrleader, and her eyes narrow and don't leave him as she suggests slowly, "I'd like to say, again, that maybe we should leave this topic for now. We're all, obviously, getting pretty worked up about it." She looks, now, back to Amilin and Melata as well. "And I think everyone's stances are clear, so really it's just arguing." R'hin's lips twitch at Melata's words. "Hardly. He is not leader material by any stretch of the imagination. But I wish him to recognize the importance of responsibility, and the Weyr-- which he doesn't, as it stands. And it is of concern to me," he admits, with a shift of shoulders. "And need, Amilin, is the word of the day. You don't -need- a bronze. But B'yan -needs- a particular way of training, that I thought you could provide. Clearly, I was mistaken." The words could be taken as mild apology, given the brief tip of head. He glances to Josilina, noting the sharp look with an even response. Leiventh senses that Lhiannonth rumbles, low, sharp-edged with her awareness of the meeting going on, « Mine wishes to request a meeting with yours when this one is concluded, if there is time. » Leiventh> Lhiannonth senses that Leiventh's response is immediate, despite apparent stillness; he's wide awake and paying attention. « Certainly. » Melata takes the compliment, such as it is, without words. She isn't going to give in against this particular opinion, however, but that is Melata. Not even when a Weyrleader insists. "You know, there is a reason I stepped down from my past position, maybe you should think about that when you decide what I want to handle along side what I *can* handle." Amilin replies in a perfectly level tone, her gaze remaining on R'hin the whole while as she speaks and then a shrug again, "I'm only saying, maybe it's a good idea for someone else to also learn how to fill that need you think we best do." Josilina settles back in her seat, some tension leaving her posture, as she returns to looking over some hides pulled from her bag - wing rosters, it could be assumed. "A good point, and noted Ami." She puts in, quiet, leaving whatever stage of the meeting is next - if any - to R'hin, with a glance. "I don't recall you saying you couldn't handle it, Amilin. Only that Melata couldn't." R'hin points out. "But now that I know... I'll certainly take that into consideration, along with everything else." His bland tone conveys a hint of dismissal, as he leans back into his chair. "Thank you for your opinion, Wingleader, Wingsecond." Melata waits quietly, a thin not-smile to her face. Expectant. "Thank you," Josilina chimes in, offering both blue- and green-riders a small smile. Amilin doesn't look apt to move quickly, or maybe she's just not going to be the first to stand as she nods back to Jos and then aims another arced brow R'hin's way that might well mean anything, really. Melata stands up, "If you are done with hearing our opinions on whom we would find best for Avalanche Wing...?" She puts the emphasis on 'we'. "We're done. I need to speak to the other Wingleaders first," R'hin says, "And then I will let you know assignments as needed." Melata nods curtly at R'hin's dismissal. As she heads to the edge of the ledge and down into the bowl with the rain still coming out of the sky, Melata mutters to Amilin, "Bet he sticks B'yan with Avalanche." Whether or not it can be heard over the rain noise, who knows. Melata wanders down the flight of steps, towards the eastern bowl. Melata has left. Amilin has left. Josilina waits, patient, for the wingleading pair to leave the ledge, until they've gone down the stairs and started across the bowl, before she turns to R'hin. "Would it be /so/ hard," she asks, shoulders tensing a little, "for you to go one meeting without upsetting our best wingleaders?" "She was being needlessly stubborn, simply to lord it over me that she's been riding for Faranth-knows-how-long," R'hin says, bland facade evaporating as the pair disappear and he's left with Josilina. He pushes up from the chair, anger displaying itself in familiar, restless pacing. "And you can't say you didn't agree they were the perfect place to put B'yan. Oh, don't worry," he adds, hastily, a hint of rancour in his voice, "I wouldn't -dream- of upsetting our best Wingleader by giving her someone who'd be a bit difficult." "She wasn't being /needlessly/ stubborn," Josilina objects. "She /has/ been riding for Faranth-knows-how-long, and so I'd /think/ she knows her limits. And deserve a break, once in a while. It's not unreasonable." She hesitates before relenting, "It -would- be a good place for B'yan. But Amilin had a point: other wingleaders need to know how to deal with difficult riders too. I'm sure C'len could manage B'yan as well. Not in the same way, but maybe since he's younger, he'd be able to relate better. We won't know unless we try." Although the Weyrleader frowns at Josilina's first comment, he doesn't object, though his lips thin briefly. R'hin runs a hand through his hair, still damp, but at least not dripping. "C'len hasn't a wingsecond yet, and I'd rather he has that support before we give him a problem like B'yan," he says. "Someone to talk to, when he has issues." He pauses in his pacing, turns, and notes, "You were late, again." It's an observation, not an accusation, given the tone that accompanies it. Josilina frowns, lips pressed together as she concedes with a nod, "That's not ideal. Still. I'd rather respect Melata's wishes on this and risk it with C'len. Not to mention, it'd be easier to switch B'yan to Avalanche if C'len /can't/ handle him; then at least we'd have given it a try. /Anyway/," irritation makes the word sharp, "B'yan isn't really a problem unless he's treated like one." She looks abashed at his last, gaze cutting away, "I know, I'm sorry. I was with Jorel, and lost track of time. Things always get packed, this time of Turn 'till winter, really." "Oh, I won't be giving him to her, that's for sure. Or C'len." R'hin says, with a shake of his head. The mention of problems earns a bemused sort of quirk of lip, the Weyrleader obviously having a differing opinion on that score. "Ah, Jorel. How is he? I see him sometimes on the ledge, but usually with R'sel." He waves a hand vaguely. "Then who?" Josilina wonders, 'brows drawing together before she shoots him a suspicious look, "Not /you/?" By her tone, she doesn't think it the best idea. "Oh, he's fine," she replies, expression clearing some on the topic of her son. "Eight, going on eighteen, these days. Though R'sel's, yeah, better about wrangling time with him." She doesn't look terribly pleased to admit that, off-hand as the remark is. "What, you don't think I'm... up to the challenge?" R'hin echoes Melata's earlier tone almost precisely. Pale eyes rest evenly on the Weyrwoman, as if keenly interested in her reaction as much as her response. "They do grow up fast," he agrees, with a slight furrow of brow. "Maybe we can... look at your schedule. I could take some things off your hands? You ought to have more time with your son. Before he gets all teenager, churlish, and defensive," he gives a wry little grin to hint that the descriptors are self-generated. "I think you two get on like angry two wherries in a sack," Josilina responds flatly. "I don't see how it'll do either of you any good. You're too fixed in your opinion of him, and really he's probably the same way." His offer sets her hesitating, and one fingertip traces a groove in the tabletop. But when she replies, she's shaking her head, "Thanks, but I can balance it. I knew when we didn't foster him that it'd be tricky, and my neglecting my work won't, in the long run, make it any less tricky. But," and she warms, "really, thanks. That's nice of you." "You're wrong," R'hin says, simply, without any heat associated, "I've noticed he's changed, in some ways. I see Jaireth's influence. But in other ways, he hasn't. And it's those ways that he hasn't that concern me. He is all about self-preservation above anything else, which in itself isn't bad... but in a rider, whom others must depend on?" His shoulders shift. "Either he'll learn, or he won't. At least if I take him on, I'll know he's been given every opportunity to become a part of the Weyr." He remains standing, but he moves back to the table, hands resting along the back of his chair, offering a wry sort of smile at the thanks. "It's not neglecting. It's delegating. And I don't mind. Family's important. At least consider it for a little while. Then I can make up suitable excuses for why you're not available, rather than why you're late. One looks a bit better than the other, if the excuse is good," he says, with a low-throated chuckle. "He'll learn," Josilina asserts, calmly confident. "He's a good lad. Just too set on thinking of himself as difficult, so he ends up fulfilling it. Maybe," she adds, eyeing R'hin pointedly, "it's a bronzerider thing." But she's smiling, at the same time. "It's delegating at first, but then it's neglecting, when it just snowballs. Not to mention, then /you/ end up with too much work, and what's the point?" She shrugs, "I'll think on it. But shells, if Matheny could manage four or more, I can manage one." She chuckles, "And excuses rely /far/ too much on their quality." "No, it's not a bronzerider thing. It's a -B'yan- thing." At the pointed look, R'hin concedes with an echoing smile, "Possibly a R'hin thing, too." He spreads his hands, "I've two Weyrseconds who know more about running the Weyr than I do. Besides, I'm looking to get myself an assistant. To do, you know, the paperwork. Or at least help out with it." He looks rueful. "Eventually, anyway. I'm a tad picky, I'm afraid." He nods, eventually, at her latter words, but there's a vague hint of troubled expression as he does so. "Think on it," is all he says. R'sel arrives through the curtain separating Josi's weyr. R'sel has arrived. "Possibly," Josilina echoes, full of amusement. "Though I'm sure if you gave me a bit, I could come up with some others." - "An assistant?" Another echo. "I suppose that's... not the worst idea." She chuckles, "You know, I never even considered something like that? Though, in some ways, the juniors are. You can always stick a scribe with some paperwork stuff, too." For 'picky', she arches her 'brows: no? really? and then nods, "I will." But, by her tone, she's not expecting to change her mind. "Draw up a list," R'hin agrees, "And I'll deal with all of them." The faint glint of pale eyes is the only hint that he's being facetious, though his put-upon seriousness doesn't last for long, a quirked smile soon appearing. He's standing by the table Josilina's seated at, hands resting on the back of one of the empty chairs. "You've your juniors, and Tavrie soon, too. That should help take the strain off a bit, I'd imagine. Still, if I find someone to help out, we could always share them?" "I've always been a fan of pawning off hidework," R'sel pipes in by way of announcing his arrival. As usual, his brown settling in on the bowl floor at the base of the ledge as his rider has made his way in with hands stuffed into pockets in a causal manner as if nothing in the world could trouble him from moment to moment, "Lists though, now those sound a bit too much like work...." "Laps around the bowl for all?" Josilina says, mock-serious to match him, but for the tightness at the corners of her mouth, holding back a grin. "Tavrie, yes. She should be helpful. And - yes, that could work. If the person can stand /both/ of us," she says, wry. She looks over at R'sel's opening remark and smiles warmly, "I know you have - I'm sure the whole Weyr knows. Oh, R'hin," she glances back to the Weyrleader, "you could always have R'sel do some of your assistant-type work. Work off that bar tab he keeps threatening to stick you with." "Ah, a man after my own heart," R'hin says, touching a hand to his chest, his grin more than welcoming of R'sel's intercession. Leiventh's rumbled greeting of Svaroth is low and almost inaudible, more felt than heard. "I was just trying to convince the Weyrwoman she ought to-- delegate-- in order to spend more time with Jorel. And yourself, of course," he allows with a smile. "And nothing so boring as laps. Laps are -reward- for bronzeriders. Good muscle tone, you know." He can't help it; he pauses to flex as if to demonstrate his point. "Oh, no way. I'm not stealing your weyrmate's time, too. Jorel'd never see his parents, and that wouldn't do at all." "Threatening, who says I'm just threatening?" R'sel replies with wide eyes and yet there is a certain quickness to the way his gaze darts to R'hin betraying more beneath surface of the relaxed air, "Delegate, hmm? He has a point, M'lady. You work too hard." That last gently said as he comes up behind and places a hand on the back of her chair while looking down and grinning, "Jorel probably has just as many ideas of what else you could be doing as I do." A teasing tone to those words and he moves to flop into a chair while Svaroth's greeting rumbles in the space between that and the following chuckle, "Bronzeriders do seem rather fond of laps in the whole. You remember when G'rad used to take his wing out and force march them in full gear? I was never so thankful as to find out G'non tossed aside than practice, even if he liked the use of a stylus more." A grin then to R'hin with the last with a gracious inclination of his head to the Weyrleader to accompany, "There now, you see? I knew he was wiser than to turn *me* to penning his hidework." "I was late to the meeting," Josilina says, sotto voce, as if to explain R'hin's sudden enthusiasm for delegation, tipping her head back to touch his hand before he moves. "You're just annoyed because Jorel's taken up my job of nagging you to do your reports," she accuses the brownrider. "Muscle tone, is that it?" She asks with a poorly concealed laugh, shaking her head. "Silly of me to forget. You could have them do hidework, then. Oh! Your hidework! As punishment for ...wait, why were you punishing bronzeriders, again?" She shakes her head, as if to physically dislodge the confusion, and grins, "I'd forgotten G'rad did that." "Not just this meeting," R'hin says, voice aimed to be more observation than accusation, though it could be read otherwise. He looks pleased with R'sel's agreement, nodding emphatically, moving around the chair to seat himself after R'sel does, too. "Have egomaniacs do hidework? Surely you jest. Nothing would ever get done, and the Weyr would collapse in on itself from the bureaucracy." He's laughing as he says it, however. "What say," he suggests, leaning forward, "After graduation, you, R'sel, and Jorel take a nice vacation. Somewhere warm, isolated. I'm sure I can handle things for a sevenday or so, and your juniors are quite capable. Consider it a graduation gift." Shalyn comes up the steps from the bowl. Shalyn has arrived. "Nothing wrong with a little tardiness." R'sel replies, except another quick change of expression shows a flash of concern underlaying the dismissive wording, and then a mock half bow to cover for it as he gives assent, "You know me too well, or you trained him too well, I'm not sure which. So to whom are we assigning or not assigning laps? Or is it hidework now?" A quick quirk of his lips upward again and then he pauses at the last suggestion, glancing somewhat between both R'hin and Josilina with almost oddly, nothing to say. Both Weyrleaders are seated at the table, along with R'sel, the three talking. Shalyn climbs up the short stair case, as she approaches it's both obvious she crossed the bowl in the rain and if one is really observant there are signs she's been crying, "M-may I C-come in?" she asks politely but with difficulty. "Egotistic bronzeriders, I believe. It started with my mentee," the Weyrwoman has, no doubt, entertained R'sel with stories of the lad, "and moved quickly through the ranks. And I'm not sure the Weyr would collapse in on itself. Probably just... well, explode, maybe. It'd be like a bunch of drunk sailors on a small skiff. ...So sink, if Weyrs could sink." She pauses at R'hin's suggestion, frowning a bit. "Right when the wings are full of new riders, and a thousand problems crop up? Hardly the best time. Particularly since it'll be your first time - " she breaks off at Shalyn's appearance, and half-rises from her seat. "Shalyn? Oh, of course - please come sit. What's wrong?" "A little of both, I rather suspect," R'hin answers R'sel's comment with a quirk of lips. "I wouldn't want to besmirch the good name of some of 'Reaches riders by naming names," he says, a hint of laughter in his voice, considering Josilina's already done so. "And, Jos-- it'll -never- be a good time. There's always something-- that I've learned if nothing else, in the time I've been here," a vague wave of hand seems to indicate the ledge, rather than the Weyr as a whole. He turns at the voice, not immediately recognizing it, and takes in Shalyn's state with what can only be termed bemusement. He rises, out of habit more than anything, "Take a seat," he echoes Josilina, puzzled gaze on the greenrider. Shalyn does take a seat and plops her head down onto her arms and stifles a sob, "I don't know Jos. That's what's wrong. I've been so angry lately and short tempered." she calms down a bit, sits properly in her chair and wipes her face and moves a wayward hair out of the way... a vain effort considering her state. "I remember how I was and I don't like myself anymore and I don't know why..." "Ahh, well. If that lot sink the Weyr, then at least they have large enough dragons to play life boat for a while." R'sel replies to that with a wink sent R'hin's way, "Ah, well. Only starting with that one..." He turns back to Jos then, the words, "He has a point love, about the good time..." slipping out before he draws himself up at the greenrider's arrival and instead ends the the thought with the lest then eloquent, "Ahh." "We'll talk about it later, hm?" Josilina says, glancing at R'sel, presumably referring to times (or the lack thereof). R'hin's spared another glance, a little considering, before her attention falls mostly to Shalyn. One hand hovers over the greenrider's shoulder, and she mumbles a series of general soothing noises, then drawing back when Shalyn sits up again. "I... really don't know what to tell you Shalyn. Maybe," and this time the glance she throws her other two companions is wry and amused, "you need some time off? A break? If you talk to your wingleader?" R'hin, frankly, looks kind of at a loss as to what to do with a sobbing greenrider, so naturally looks at R'sel, with a kind of confusion, then Josilina, with more of an expectation, as if she should know how to proceed. He's still standing, as if considering retreat, and after a pause, finally sinks back down. A brief pause after the Weyrwoman's considerate questions, and he asks bluntly: "Is your green proddy?" Shalyn shakes her head at R'hin, "No... I thought so at first, but that's not it. It's something else and I need to find out what." she looks back to Jos and a genuine smile does appears on her face, "You know me too well Jos, I... I was wondering if I could spend a few months elseweyr, Benden or Ista. If their weyrwomen and C'len approve of course." A nod to Josilina marks his agreement with her request, but R'sel's expression shows him not much better of in this department than R'hin who's given a mild shrug, a roll of murky hazel eyes and then for that question his lips quirk upward once again in quick smile that's suppressed a moment later. A gesture follows as he hears Shalyn's reply, the lifting of his hand, palm up as if to say, 'There you go' and yet still he says not a word outloud. Shalyn traces circles on the table, "I don't want to leave, this is my home and I love it here. I'd be back before winter." she says to waylay any concerns of her wanting to leave on a permanent basis. Josilina purses her lips, thoughtful. "Honestly, Shalyn, I'd prefer if you stayed here, if you took leave. It's not - too common, to take leave somewhere else. But if you really want to - you've got family in both spots, haven't you? I don't have a problem with it, if it's okay with their Weyrleadership and C'len." She pauses, tapping the tabletop, "C'len would be your first stop. After that, we could contact Benden and Ista to ask. Unless," she looks to R'hin, now, "the Weyrleader has any objections? He is, technically, more directly in charge of the wings." There's a brief sort of pause, surprise flickering across R'hin's features as the crying subsides abruptly, and at the request that follows. "I can't imagine C'len would have a problem with it," the Weyrleader supplies fairly swiftly. "And I don't," he adds, at Josilina's query, hands spreading. "With the new weyrlings coming in, the wings will be full up anyway." Shalyn nodnods, "I'll stay, if it makes things easier. But I just need to get away to do some thinking." she chuckles, "Yea I have family in just about every weyr. I certainly don't want to add to your pile though." R'sel starts to speak, all of twice, and both times what he may have said gets repressed in favor of still more silence. The brownrider clearly not having much to add in the moment, he settles for offering only, "We'll manage, if he says it's okay of course. If, they say it's okay." Then with the assent to stay the added, "Or, well. Whatever." Josilina smiles at R'sel's contribution, nodding. "We can work it, if it's what you really want. Or, try to work it, anyway. Just let me know what C'len says, after you talk to him, and we'll move forward. Don't worry yourself on it." Shalyn shakes her hair back, "Oh I'm sorry R'sel, I shouldn't expose a wingmate to my problems." R'hin nods agreeably with Josilina, looking more at ease again as he watches silently. "Oh, well, you know." R'sel somehow manages to not quite stumble through those words and then he flashes a trademark smile as he tries to perhaps defuse the apology, "If you don't get it handled now, you'll probably expose the whole wing to them, so better to do so to, ahh, not so many." Josilina doesn't make any move to save R'sel immediately - in fact, there's a small smile for her weyrmate's floundering. But there's some pity to be had, and she steps in: "I'm sure R'sel's seen his share of crying girls, Shalyn, I wouldn't worry. Are you feeling any better? I'd say you should just get some rest tonight - grab something warm from the kitchens and settle in for the night." Shalyn smiles, "Thanks for listening, all of you and for your consideration." she moves to place a warm hand on R'sel's arm and offers a hug to Jos... and doesn't even know what kind of gesture to offer R'hin. "I'll take your advice, and I know just where to as well." R'hin seems to help out with Shalyn's indecision by flickering fingers in what one would assume is a farewell. "Take care of yourself, Shalyn." Josilina hugs the younger woman, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Take care. And feel better." She hesitates, making sure the greenrider is starting off with no more criseses, before settling back into her seat. "Oh, yeah. Well you know, a few anyway." R'sel replies at Josilina's comment about crying girls and he gives a reasonably reassuring grin before he nods, "Don't worry about it." Shalyn stands and tries to fix herself up a little before heading back out to her waiting lifemate. "Thanks Jos, thanks a lot. I will I promise, and I just wanted to tell you I really did enjoy our day out together last week." "I did too, Shalyn," Josilina assures her. "I'm sure I'll see you around." Shalyn meanders down the flight of steps, towards the eastern bowl. Shalyn has left. As the greenrider goes, R'sel glances at R'hin with something like gratitude hovering about his expression for the save of sort warped up in that encouraged dismissal. And while he's silent until she's gone, he then leans back farther in his chair and piped up with, "Maybe she's pregnant again." Josilina lets out a long, low breath as the greenrider retreats. "Poor thing. She's a dear, really, but sometimes a little..." she trails off, but R'sel's remark prompts a light slap to his arm. "R'sel! And you two, just /classic/ men, just now. Honestly. It's just crying, you know. It's not like she would have bitten you." R'hin's watching Shalyn's departure too, but for entirely different reasons: perhaps to see if she's returning or not. R'sel, however, earns a horrified look for his session. "Don't even joke about -that-, please," he groans. Josilina's comment earns a bemused sort of shrug, "What? I asked if she was proddy," he says, as if that was a significant contribution of some sort. "If she was pregnant, she might have...Oh shells and shards, with that one, she might have anyway. You don't have to -fly- with her M'lady." R'hin's expression then has the brownrider pointing between the two of them as if somehow he's been vindicated, "See, love. He knows exactly what I mean." Josilina rolls her eyes sky-ward, "She's been a greenrider for Turns. You don't think she'd know, at this point, if she were just proddy? It's a silly question. And what's wrong with someone being pregnant, anyway?" She demands of the Weyrleader, though there's the suggestion of a smile at the edges of her mouth, and as R'sel takes up the cause as well she relents, but still looks reproving. "I hope a pregnant woman hears you two sometimes, with comments like that, and beats you proper." R'hin can't help it; a faint, knowing sort of chuckle escapes him at R'sel's comment. He spreads his hands at Josilina's comment, "Well, she does tend to kind of overreact to things. It seemed a natural question to ask." Wry: "She slapped me, burst into tears, then started laughing minutes later, last time she was pregnant. I'm staying out of it," he declares. "Ah, good thing there's none to be found, mm?" He looks unrepentant. "In any case, I've some more lists to pour over for my meetings tomorrow-- good evening, both of you. And... think on my suggestion?" he says, as he rises. "Not *someone* being pregnant... *Her* being pregnant. Don't remember the last time, M'lady? Her going around hitting innocent people?" R'sel counters with another gesture to R'hin, "See? She slapped R'hin the last time." There, his case settles, he gives a more relaxed grin than while Shalyn had been present and responds to that last with, "Aye, have a good evening yourself." "I don't care," Josilina says, firm. "Maybe she did act a little - over the top. Until either of you have been pregnant, you really shouldn't fuss about it in other people." She tips her head to R'hin, "Evening. Be sure to send me the reports on what you decide for the wings, will you?" Her smile fades, just a bit, as she adds, "I will, I said I would." "I think we can all thank Faranth -that- won't ever happen," R'hin says fervently, of Josilina's comment of experiencing pregnancy. He flashes a grin at R'sel, and answers Jos, "Count on it." A tip of head is farewell to both as he heads for the archway leading into his weyr. |
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