Logs:Of Insults
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| RL Date: 12 June, 2006 |
| Who: Amilin, M'wen, Maja, R'hin, S'din, X'dyr |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 12, Turn 7 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 18:58 on day 31, month 12, Turn 57, of the Tenth Pass. It is a winter evening. You glide to a swift landing on the ground. You vault down Leiventh's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles softly. 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 shines in half moon while Timor shines brightly as a full moon. A light wind blows and the winter air feels a bit nippy. Contents: Leiventh Dasmareth X'dyr Isorath Nepenth(#4050Jaes) Obvious exits: Weyrleader Ledges Western Bowl Floor Dragon Infirmary Weyrling Barracks Weyrling Training Room Feeding Grounds Lake Shore Above the bowl, to the west, Melisandeth turns, flying east. Melisandeth has arrived. M'wen wanders in from the weyrling barracks. M'wen has arrived. S'din climbs down from Melisandeth's back. S'din has arrived. Melisandeth leans close to the ground to allow S'din to leap from her neck to the ground. Maxeoth lumbers in from the weyrling barracks. Maxeoth has arrived. Amilin meanders in from the weyrling training room. Amilin has arrived. Beladin has arrived. Beladin strides over to the eastern part of the bowl, gnawing on the leg of a wherry leftover and sips from a large mug of ale. Straggling along behind the master are several miner apprentices, groaning and grunting underr the weight of a good score and more of heavy sacks of firestone. Leiventh glides down to a landing, kicking up small stirring of dust as he does so - but certainly vastly improved since his first landing. R'hin takes his time, unstrapping himself before sliding down the bronze's side, a hand sliding across Leiventh's hide as he steps away. He's rugged up for the cool winter evening, leaving his gloves on as he strides over to join his fellow weyrlings, saluting at the various riders as they arrive. S'din hops onto the Stone of Lecture, returning the various and sundry salutes. Clasping his arms behind his back, he waits until his weyrlings line up. "Quiet" He nearly has to roar over the sounds of talking. Amilin makes her way over to Dasmareth's side as the class comes together, placing a hand on the greens shoulder briefly before turning to full attention to class proceedings. S'din cocks his head toward the apprroaching dwarf as he speaks. "Breathing fire can be a dangerous affair even without Thread trying to kill or maim you. We are honored to have Master Beladin here to give you all some pointers on the finer aspects of firestone before you actually try anything." He glances at the Weyrlings then at the Master Miner with an expression that can't seem to decide who he is feeling more sorry for at the moment. Silent and somewhat bored looking is X'dyr as he falls into line with the rest of the weyrlings - ignoring the looks from some, and the remarks from others. S'din's perching upon the stone and subsequent orders are given a brief glance before he seems to come to attention, focusing on some distant point in front of him. Isorath meanwhile is elsewhere, lazily wandering and idly doodling on the ground with a claw. Beladin nods and bites one last piece of meat off the bone before tossing it over his shoulder and narrowly missing the head of a trailing miner apprentice. He sets the mug down, leers at Amilin while wiggling his brows and then sighs lustily as he eyes the class. He clears his throat, the sound like another shale landslide, "Okay! Firestone! I don't believe in introductions, so yer either gonna get it or not and learn to like it!" He tosses a sneer around the class, but doesn't wait to see if it has any effect, "Who can tell me what firestone is?" Priya gives R'hin a -long- look and seems to want to ask him something, though S'din's near-roar neatly cuts her off. R'hin, for his part, is idly watching X'dyr - and indeed, everyone's reaction to X'dyr - with apparent interest, his attention belatedly drawn to the Weyrlingmaster with a furrow of brow as he catches the man's words. His attention then shifts towards the Masterminer, -down- to him, rather, with a grin at the miner's introduction, or lack thereof. "A man after my own heart," he mutters, not-so-quietly. Maja strolls in from the weyrling barracks. Maja has arrived. Vesereth wanders in from the weyrling barracks. Vesereth has arrived. Beladin sighs loudly again. "Does -anyone- know?" R'hin can't help himself; he pipes up, tone dry, "Isn't that what you're here to -teach- us, sir?" Amilin greets Beladin's leer with a crooked grin and chuckles at the Master Miner before he gets underway with teaching. Dasmareth rumbles what might be a quiet greeting of her own, but the green too falls silent and her rider soon is left sighing herself as she waits to see if any in the class will reply. From the back, a tall bulky lad calls out, "Chores!" Finding himself all too funny, he snickers after that and tries to duck behind Bristia who is just gaping at the master miner. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh seems resigned, « They are going to talk a great deal before they finally ask us to do something, aren't they? » Beladin eyes the jokester and then R'hin. He turns to S'din and Amilin, his gravel voice loud in the silence. "How did you get stuck with these brainless wherries?" The answers that are voiced don't seem to illicit much of a reaction from X'dyr, the youth's expression remaining flat. He snorts quietly at the Master Miner's question for S'din, shaking his head. Idly, he glances in the direction of his dragon - who still shows no interest in what is occuring within the group of weyrlings. Finally, with a resigned sigh he raises his hand. Leiventh has hunkered down, still as is his norm, eyes half lidded and wings folded tight to his body. All the talking seems to disinterest him for now, and R'hin turns to eye the dragon with a twitch of lips. "Mmhmm," he murmurs quietly, before piping up again, "We Impressed, sir. That's the problem with random fate, you're stuck with us in all our apparent incompetence now." He sounds... forcefully cheerful. S'din manages to keep a straight-face at Beladin's question but gives Amilin a sidelong glance as he answers. "Perhaps the fates are punishing me for a misspent but quite enjoyable youth. " With a chuckle at some memory, he glances at the class then says. "X'dyr, would you be so kind and answer the man?" "Oh, the usual way, Master Beladin." Ami replies quietly amused as she finds herself backing R'hin's reply, "The usual way. But perhaps you intimidate them from really trying." A hint of dare in her glance towards certain weyrling before she quips to S'din, "No doubt." Beladin gives R'hin another long look before laughing raucously. "Indeed." "It's a rock that when our dragons chew it, it enables them to produce the flame that's needed to destroy the Thread that falls from the skies." X'dyr's voice as he recites is rather monotonal, perhaps hinting that it's merely a 'textbook' answer as such. "Our dragons have a second stomach with which to deal with this, and will vomit up the remains once they've exhausted the supply of gas from the rock." R'hin, for his part, certainly doesn't seem all that intimidated. The Weyrlingmaster's words, however, earn a level look from the ex-trader, and a faint narrowing of eyes. Pale eyes travel back towards X'dyr, expression veiled as he folds arms across his chest. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh echoes your thoughts, « He does not strive hard to earn the respect of those he teaches, does he? » "A glimmer of intelligence." Beladin responds. "Surprisingly, you'rer right. Firestone is a phosphine-bearing rock which we mine out of the ground, break into smaller pieces, which you then feed in a special way to your dragons in order for them to breathe flaame. How? Phosphine is a gas which, when it combines with regular 'ol air, bursts into flame." Glancing at his apprentices, the lads leap into action, dropping one large, full sack and three empty sacks in front of each and every weyrling. "Y'can open your sacks and just take a look at the 'stone inside. You'll see it has a lot of lil' bubbles trapped in the rock. That's what holds the phosphine gas. The dragons crack the rocks to release the gas. Y'll notice the rocks vary in colour from a deep yellowish-grey to a bright yellow. Can anyone tell me why? S'din crosses his arms, watching the class and remaining silent. At the miner's confirmation, R'hin claps his hands together, the sound slightly muffled by the gloves he wears, but clearly mocking nonetheless. "A glimmer of intelligence! X'dyr has just voted himself in as our Wingleader, since that places him on a level far exceeding the rest of us thick-witted souls!" Turning on his heel, he walks towards Leiventh to look inside the sack, seemingly unsurprised, since he's been breaking and bagging firestone since he was a candidate. S'din finally breaks his silence. "R'hin, two laps for each idiotic comment you make during this class. You're up to 4 laps as of nice." His voice is calm, level and almost bored. R'hin glances over to S'din, asking evenly, "Does that rule apply to you as well, sir? I'd think you'd far outstrip me." Beladin crosses his thick arms and waits a moment. "Does anyone even give a shard about this subject? Perhaps I should come back when these children are ready to stop wearing diapers." S'din chuckles at R'hin. "Impressive. You are getting better now that you are understanding more than two words that have been strung together to form a sentence. I commend you. Now shut up and pay attention for once in your miserable existence and try to be a human being. I'm assuming it isn't too much of a stretch." "Not particularly. But instead of telling us we're idiots and treating us as if we're intellectually inferior to your higher ranked knots, then maybe we'd show a glimmer of interest in these pathetic excuses for lessons." X'dyr folds his arms across his chest, "What's the point in holding the lesson if you're going to be sending people off to do laps and miss out on what is trying to be taught? Doesn't sound like we're the ones who need the diapers." "Thank you, indeed. Your praise is highly sought indeed only mere moments after you once more insinuated we are nothing but blithering idiots." R'hin's voice is tightly controlled, only the faint, taut lines of his body betraying his anger. "Only a few months ago you gave us a lecture on protocol and procedure, yet you let a miner treat us with such disrespect... disrespect that you -encourage- and -emulate-. I try hard to have respect for you and your position, Weyrlingmaster, but you make it difficult for even the most... dimwitted of us." Beladin is ignored for the moment, the bronze weyrling's focus on S'din. S'din replies. "He is a Master. He has more years of experience than you all put together. How dare you talk about demanding respect when you do not give it. You -earn- respect and not demand it. You don't thave to like the person to respect the position. I will not give respect to any of you unless you deserve it. I have never disrespected a position of authority nor a person who deserved it." "Then why in Faranth's name should we even bother respecting you when you can't give us the curtesy of it." Comes the retort from the other bronze weyrling, X'dyr's mouth twitching in obvious irritation, "You're doing nothing to earn our respect, and in fact seem very intent on losing it." "And his status as a Master gives him the right to call us brainless wherries, it seems," R'hin agrees. "Very well. I shall use your rules to guide me from now on, esteemed Weyrlingmaster. Carry on, please, Master Beladin. I shall try my utmost to keep up, as difficult as it will be." A slight bow is sketched in the miner's direction. S'din says "My job is not to be your friend. My job is to teach you to be tough, survive this life and learn to obey commands instantly because in the real world, you don't have time to second guess or think about what your Wingleader or Weyrleader needs. I don't care if you like me or not. I just care to make sure you live and your dragon doesn't become maimed, injured or dies." He points at the Master. "What do you expect? The man asks a question and all he gets from you all is sarcasm and lip. He doesn't deserve that. He is trying to teach you something. "" X'dyr's head tilts downwards a fraction, gloved fingers holding his forehead as if an ache has started. "If that's really what you're wanting to achieve than in Faranth's name: Learn. To. Teach!" The last three words are punctuated with an exasperated clenching of his hands before his shoulders slump. "Sir." And that it would seem is the youth's attempt to retreat from the debate. "Let's get this over with all ready." The bronze weyrling's posture diminishes, withdrawing to let his focus settle on Beladin and the lesson's contents. "Yet because I lacked the specific answer, I'm instantly brainless," R'hin counters. "I am certainly learning a great deal today, indeed, sir." His gaze drifts expectantly to the miner again. Maja has been silent throughout the entire ordeal, simply raising her eyebrows at both the comments as well as the lack of punishment. Vesereth is interested in the banter at least, watching each person. Beladin goes on, over the argument between the weyrlings and the Weyrlingmaster to give others the benefit of the class. "The different colors are different concentrations of gas! The greyer ones have more ore and d are less pure. The yellower rocks are more pure, have more gas in them and are softer." He points at the sacks the weyrlings have open now, "You should have noticed the smell by now. Can you imagine being trapped underground din a tunnel full of this stench?" Clearing his throat again in that same small landslide sound, he continues. "That's why most of this junk is mined in open mines. That's where we dig away all the dirt andd rock on top of the veins of this rock so thaat we can let the gasa dissipate before it gets too strong. We can't do that. We have to work in short shifts and wear special masks. Now, upend your firestone sacks on the ground in front of you and try to sort the rocks into three piles. Good 'stone, bad 'stone and medium-grade 'stone." M'wen is standing by Maxeoth with a glance to the firestone, not sparing the arguement a thought, knowing all to well R'hin's attitude towards authority. Upon hearing the command by Beladin to sort through the sack of firestone, he grabs the sack and upends it, dumping the yellow rock onto the ground, waiting for others to begin before starting the sorting process. Maja picks her own sack up, taking a brief whiff before pouring it onto the ground. She glances towards M'wen, sharing in the other Weyrling's silence and simple obedience. Perhaps she's eager to get the lesson over with; perhaps she could care less about how nasty the miner is being. Obediently - and perhaps thankfully, silently - R'hin upends the sack, some of the firestone chucks rolling over the ground away from him. He trods around, using his foot to kick the stones back into the rough pile near Leiventh's hunched form, the bronze surveying the process as his rider begins three groupings. S'din clenches his jaw for a moment before replying. "Stop taking everything personally, first of all. Grow up and learn to laugh at yourself because life is too short. Secondly, if you have a problem with me, you come see me privately and stop interrupting the classes. They deserve better than that. You still are going to have the laps because giving sarcastic answers is not right. If you don't know an answer, then just keep quiet. We will continue this another time." He falls silent, crossing his arms to let Beladin talk. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's sympathetic, but the firestone is starting to gather his attention. « I have to eat that? » he asks, doubtful. Beladin clasps his hands behind his broad back and starts walking up and down the lines of weyrlings. Being haardly above waist-high on most riders, he tendsd to disappear as he moves through the ranks, only to appear at an elbow when least expectedd, his gravel-rough voice cracking suddenly from behind, interrupting a young greenriding girl's work. He corrects the weyrlings with as much tact as he has - which is none at all - rocks don't respond to tact so why learn it. "Think! Does /this/ look /yellow to you?" He stomps his way up to the front again, saying, "By now, you'll notice that the grey pile be getting big and the yellow be staying pretty small. The grey really be garbage andd the yellow high-grade 'stone. The stuff in the middle is mid-grade and what you younguns'll be using tonight. It is pure enough not to give your dragons bellyaches, but not so pure that we can't spare it cuz the full wings need it." The outburst from the Weyrlingmaster receives a rise of brows from R'hin. The other weyrlings know him well enough to know that he actually struggles hard with the effort not to retort, turning silently back to his sorting after a short time. A sack of stone is chosen by convience, X'dyr picking the one closest to him and upending it when he finds an appropriate spot. The youth's nose wrinkles a little at the smell, at he starts to sift through it with a foot - his hands firmly entrenched in his pockets. Anything else that comes from S'din is ignored - Beladin's the teacher for this class. "What have the full wings been using it for, sir?" Maja has a real question, at least. "Just for practice?" She sorts the firestone in front of her. Beladin motions to his apprentices to start walking through the ranks to pick up the high-grade and the low-grade ore sacks from the weyrlings. "As I said, dragons have wonderfully designed chomperrs, but different sizes of equipment. The smaller stones are used for the likes of blues and greens. The larger for browns and the largest for bronzes." He tucks his thumbs behind his belt and turns to S'din. "My part is done. Good luck with them and the second part of this firestone class." The master gives Amilin a choice leer before stomping off in search of a refill. S'din steps up to the Stone after nodding to Beladin and offering his apologies for the class's behaviour and the interruption of the class with the uncalled for argument. "We'll have an ale later." Turning back to the class, he says. "The full wings have used it for Threadfall. Since the mines are not as extensive as they once were, right now it is being stored for emergency use. Let's get your dragons nearby." Beladin strides towards the western side of the bowl. Beladin has left. Amilin, having remained silently at relaxed attention through it all class so far hasn't bothered to keep the signs of her disapproval off her face. Her expression speaking for her where she fails to place the words just then. The only break in this coming when Beladin catches her gaze as he departs and she gives him an apologetic smile that once again slips crooked before her gaze again faces front. R'hin continues to sort the piles, ending up with a fair-sized grouping of medium grade ore to work with. Leiventh is given a long look, before he nods silently, awaiting further instructions. S'din clasps his hands behind his back again and asks. "Where would you place the stone in the dragon's mouth to make this work?" Vesereth seems to distrust the stone, especially with the strong smell coming off it, and is inspecting each of Maja's piles with wary curiosity. Maja actually smile slightly, shaking her head at her dragon. "Near the back?" Maja hazards a guess to S'din's question. "Very good, weyrling." S'din nods approvingly and hops off the Stone of Lecture and heads over to Bristia's pile of firestone. With the barest of glances, he grabs a rock from the mid-grade pile and approaches Melisanddeth. His green obediently lowers her head and opens her mouth. The stone is placed near her back teeth, and only then does Meli swing her head around, showing all the Weyrlings and their lifemates how her tongue is clear of her teeth and the stone is in place. Isorath has decided to finally put in an appearance it would seem. The violet-hued bronze settling down beside X'dyr and the piles of firestone that are slowly being formed through the toe-to-toe sorting technique that's being used. S'din says "Dragons can feel where the imperfections of the rocks are, so let them seek them out and line them up, so that they can do this. " After he stops speaking, Melisandeth's jaws clamp down and the rrock in her mouth bursts with a muffled report. Her mouth moves several more times before you see a telltale lump move down her slim throat. "Those imperfections are what allows the dragon's teeth to crack rock and not the other way around. As Maja said, the back teeth is where the rock belongs. Only those teeth are strong enough to break them so everyone select the proper size for your dragon and place a stone there."" Maja gets a medium-sized rock-- not particularly large or small, for fear of choking Vesereth either way. The dragon doesn't look so much fearful as disgusted at the thought of such a thing being placed in his mouth. Maja shakes her head, giving him a good hard slap on the side. With a snort, Vesereth opens his mouth and Maja puts the rock in. R'hin is decidedly picky, poking through the remaining pile before selecting a larger sized chunk of the firestone, tossing it up and down in his gloved hand for a moment as if to test it's appropriateness. A few more are picked out, before he - and Leiventh too - watch Melisandeth closely. Leiventh, like Vesereth, seems a little dubious of the rock, and only reluctantly allows R'hin to place it in his mouth between his back teeth. An onyx talon extends to select a piece of firestone from the piles that X'dyr has arranged - the ash-blonde weyrling giving the bronze a curt nod as he bends over to pick it up with a gloved hand. "Second stomach remember." Is murmured as the piece of firestone is positioned for Isorath to chow down on. Maxeoth looks down at the pro-offered chunk of firestone with a look of interest, opening his mouth so that M'wen can place it as S'din has shown them. Unlike the other dragons he doesn't look dubiously at the rock, but has a confused look as to suggest he's doubtful of the outcome of this excercise. Melisandeth raises her head, snout pointed at the sky and, at a nod from her lifemate, lets ouut an intense jet of pur flame which illuminates the far bowl wall for a second. S'din smiles at his lifemate, his expression softening just a moment before returning to his lecture expression, "During Fall, a dragon will ingests a lot of firestone. This, in turn, will produce a lot of ash, just as it will for you in practice. It is your responsibility to make sure your dragon regurgitates the ash and to clean up after them. Just a note, there is no special place for your dragon to vomit up the ash. Most riders just find an out-of-the-way place like an empty mountaintop ... " He glances at Ami with a chuckle as he may or may not be adding a punchline to a inside joke they are not aware of yet. "... or Bitra's courtyard." S'din says "Okay, now everyone -carefully- feed your dragon a stone. Make sure to remind them to get their tongue out of the way and to concentrate on their SECOND stomachs!!!" He steps back, well behind the Stone of Lecture as does Melisandeth. "Oh, you may want to step back a bit as well. Dragons startle the first time it happens and sometimes put their head down so we don't want anyone singed. Try it from chewing to belching."" A Glacier wingrider who is observing the class as a "spy" for the Weyrleader and his staff starts to laugh softly at the Bitran courtyard comment. As a matter of fact, the woman places a hand over her mouth, trying to keep from laughing out loud. Vesereth is still standing with his mouth hanging open. Maja is getting annoyed at this point-- the brown's actions no longer amusing. She frowns, grabbing ahold of his jaw. "Swallow it," she commands, "to your second stomach." Vesereth's eyes widen and he closes his jaw, swallowing. Maja takes a few steps back and Vesereth turns his head away, flaming upward. R'hin has one hand to Leiventh's jaw, but the purpose doesn't seem in steadying the bronze at all. Perhaps it's just to prevent him chewing down before he's told. "Try not to throw up on my new riding leathers," the bronze weyrling tells him, with no small amount of humor in his voice. Stepping to one side, his focus is entirely on Leiventh to the exclusion of all else, concentrating as the dragon bites down and begins chewing. He gets an odd kind of expression on his face, and there's a weird rumbling noise from Leiventh's stomach moments before his jaw bursts open, spewing forth a short burst of flame. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh starts to confess, « It feels strange-- » before he breaks off and the flame spews out, much to the dragon's apparent surprise. The young bluerider in the front leaps back even as he ducks. The movement causes him to land unceremoniously on his posterior. At least nothing was singed. His blue, however, looks rather stunned at the whole flame thing. The process is repeated, and eventually Isorath tilts his head upwards to belch forth a spray of flame - the acrid stench much stronger than that of the rocks causes X'dyr's nose to wrinkle, and lift an arm up to partially cover his face. S'din watches the whole process with a critical eye. Any misstep at this point will end the dragon up in the infirmary for a time or the possibility of a flaming injury is very possible. "Good job, everyone. I expect you all to keep practicing that every day! The flames will get bigger and more controlled das you practice so try not to worry. Practice flaming on the ground. Once you get that, show Ami or myself and you'll be cleared to practice in the air in formation. Are there any last questions before we conclude class and you all can begin anticipating the arrrival of a bucketful of nasty, wet, smelly ash?" "No, sir," Maja answers, though is watching Vesereth in case of a surprise second belch. R'hin begins laughing, as much at Leiventh's expression as at his sudden surprise, looking pleased as he slaps his hand against the cinnamon bronze's hide. "Hah! Perfect," he declares. "You should've seen your face." He steps closer, grimacing at the sulphuric smell. S'din is given a brief look, before answering evenly, "No questions here, Weyrlingmaster." With a salute, the bluerider jumps up and squeaks. "May we be excused, sir?" His blue doesn't wait but waddles off quickly to some corner that he can cough up ash in private. M'wen watches Maxeoth belch out a small jet of lame in a random direction into the sky, on his guard in case a rogue flame comes his way, "I do sir, how long do you expect this period of inexperience and uncontrolled ability to flame last?" S'din nods, returning the bluerider's salute. "Get an ash bucket!" He responds to M'wen with a slight grin. "About a sevenday or so, depending on how often they practice. It does get better, really." With that, he turns back to the class. "Class dismissed. R'hin and X'dyr, you two are grounded until you decide if you want to graduate with your clutchmates or if you want to start classes from the beginning. None of the wingleaders are interested in having riders that refuse to respect or respond to authority. Once you decide what you want to do, you need to talk to me or Amilin before any restrictions will be eased." And with the dismissal, Maxeoth looks to be experiencing a bit of discomfort, and upon seeing this, M'wen grabs anash bucket and leads him over to a discreet corner of the bowl as to let the brown have some privacy. "Sir, I beg to differ. I respect and respond to -authority-." R'hin's tone is mild, pointed. With a shrug, he adds, "May I go, Weyrlingmaster? I've laps to run and I'd like to tend to Leiventh as soon as possible." Maja immediately raises her eyebrow at S'din's ultimate punishment, and whether or not she feels any sympathy for R'hin, she does seem to appreciate the fact the Weyrlingmaster has more creative punishments in him other than laps. She takes a deep breath, shaking her head as Vesereth starts to sneak away. The brown dragon is following the blue, finding somewhere private to do something he'd rather everyone not see. A shake of X'dyr's head seems to mean that he's got no further questions. The weyrling pair seem to have understood the concept of the whole firestone consumption and X'dyr has straightened out the sack for the bronze to cough up the remaining amounts of ash in his system. There's a faint smirk at the instruction from S'din, "So, nothing's changed then." He lifts his shoulders with a shrug as he goes about cleaning up after Isorath. S'din says "You have never shown me an inkling or respect or proper response. I am your authority. You have also shown Ami the same lack of disrespect and she also holds your future in her hands. In Weyrlinghood, no one outranks me. The Weyrleader even respects my and Ami's decision on whether or not a weyrling is ready. I expected better of a trader as I was one once but ..." He glances at Leiventh then says. "Dismissed. Take care of your dragon first and then do your laps. Priorities."" "I've shown you as much respect as you've shown me, sir. As for Amilin - I -have- shown her respect, because she has likewise earned it by speaking to me as an adult, and not as if I were a witless child." R'hin counters, his back stiff. He exhales, seemingly frustrated by the change of orders given him. "Very well, sir." S'din nods. "What have you done that deserves respect? From the first day, you never shown respect to the position. From the very first moment, you decided you were better than I, than Ami, than anyone in this Weyr and that is the problem. You are not better. You may be equal as a person but you are inferior as a rider. You are learning. You have caused problems between your clutchmates. Yes, even Ami has been disappointed by your lack of respect. I have treated you as adults because I expect a great deal from you all. Look at Maja and M'wen over here. I am not punishing them because they have shown no reason to be punished." "You have treated us as adults? When?" R'hin tips his head. "When you called us witless idiots? When you punished us for not announcing your presence, when we hadn't been told we were meant to? I never claimed to be superior as a rider. But I am a person, and I have judged you on how you have treated us from day one. And from day one, you called us children. That, sir, is not an auspicious beginning to a respectful outlook." Hard as it might be for some to be spoken about without speaking up, Ami proves by example perhaps that there are times and places to jump in and times and places to say nothing. Her hands clasped behind her back she waits, silent still and doesn't comment one way or the other for all that she listens to it all. S'din says "You -were- children! Just because I speak an uncomfortable truth that does not mean I am disrespectful. You are not longer regular people. You became weyrlings. You are children because you are not only dealing with yourselves but with childlike minds and that affects WHO YOU ARE." He shakes his head at R'hin. "How did you survive on the road? Do you -have- a sense of humor? Do you even know how to crack a smile? Learn how to laugh at yourself. I'm not perfect. Well, sometimes I'm not but the point is, we all are idiots at one time or another. Learn and go."" R'hin gives S'din a disbeliving look, not bothering to retort. Instead, he turns sharply on a heel after a brief salute at the dismissal. He paces Leiventh as the bronze heads off to one side of the bowl to tend to the unfortunate side effects of the firestone. |
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