Logs:Practice
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| RL Date: 4 August, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leova teaches Farideh about gold influence. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
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| Leova's seen fit to set chairs just shy of outside, with the great curtains drawn back and the warm breeze wandering in. It's after a brief discussion of the intervening time that the dragonhealer's gaze considers the weyrling for silent moments. Moments she sets aside. "At risk of wearing their knot, Farideh. How do you feel?" This time Farideh seems less anxious and uncomfortable, and more than a smallamount calmer. "Me? Oh, I feel fine-- finer than I did. Iappreciate that you suggested Madilla to me. She-- helped, sort of. Iguess I just needed time, which is hard to come by these days. Betweentraining, duties, and graduation upcoming-- there's just-- not anytime. But now," she tries on a smile, "it's better, overall." The greenrider listens, a slight uptilt growing to one and then both corners of her mouth. "Glad. Just don't try timing it, hm? No matter whose cousin's uncle's wingleader thinks they know how." "Timing it? Leova, I barely just learned how to between. I wouldn't--that's never even been a thought," as Farideh takes the joke a bit tooliterally. "I'm much, much more worried about the future than-- the past." "What worries?" Leova, simple. "The same ones everyone has been talking about since the beginning," Faridehsays, fiddling with the bracelet on her arm. "People talk 'bout a lot of things," Leova notes. Amber eyes track the girl's fingers, her wrist. With a nod to the latter, "Pretty." "Usually, they aren't talking about my dragon," Farideh returns, her lipsquirking with a curious blend of amusement and self-deprecation. "Peopleare making bets," her nose wrinkling, but the distraction works wellenough that she lifts the wrist to better display its treasure. "It was agift." "Even nicer," Leova remarks, her half-smile made whole in her eyes. "I like bracelets, but in my work," she gives a half-shrug that stays that way, briefly crossing bare wrists. Back to before: "Bets. Succession, then? You've a long time to be worrying then, likely. Hope you won't. Or, least, don't have to right here." "Not in your downtime?" Farideh glances up from the greenrider's wrists,mildly surprised, but it's easily brushed off in favor of a petulant moue."No, but now, there's not as much to occupy my mind and that seems tobe-- the thing. Which one will it be, when will it be, who willbe weyrleader, what happens next, who can we trust," all with aflippant hand gesture. "I try not to listen, but, it's hard not to, orworry. Another turn? Two?" "Mm," once brushed off, stays that way. "Do you believe at all," Leova wonders. "In the whole, 'the Weyr knows'? The dragons have reasons, even though we may not know them yet? In something... transcendent?" That calls for something wry. "Other than accidents and the odd knife. More than canines rutting in the mud." The stare Farideh gives Leova is completely and utterly blank. "No. Should I?Believe in something else? I don't think Roszadyth is hiding some darksecret from me."
Instinct -- Farideh looks skeptical. "If it was up to Roszadyth, never,but I suppose-- if someone gets hurt, if someone is upset, if someone--Faranth forbid-- someone dies-- fights, flights, and at theirdiscretion?" Her brow furrows. Leova, by contrast, practices a lack of contrast: placid. "Who dies?" "Anyone? Dragons? Riders? Everyone? Especially, queens?" Farideh lookshopeful; a ticket to success? "Think less, not more," Leova says. Says like it's a rule: "Think careful." And explains. "Look at how the dragons are doing, Farideh. Even if someone dies. Are they bothered, distressed, traumatized? It's a range. Are they so young and their riders so untrained that they can't handle it? Are they so old, their riders so addled that they can't either? Or are they capable, can they manage? Soothing feelings rarely go awry, when there is a problem, when they are distressed. Most dragons, they'll welcome that. Pushing it on them, putting a lid on them, like as not they won't. And you're right. A queen, that'll bother 'em especially, one of ours. It messes up the whole fabric. Likely will be needed, then. Active. Offering comfort when any dragon goes. But mostly just them. Not a caverns worker, not a laundry worker, unless she were very near and dear to that dragon's rider. Because they won't much care." Is that the success Farideh was looking for? That there's more to the answer doesn't appear to surprise Farideh, even ifher shoulders droop a little as she listens to what the dragonhealer tellsher; absorbs the lesson. "Don't do it unnecessarily-- only when it's mostneeded, on whom it's most needed," she repeats, like someone writingnotes. "And it always works? Without question, or is there-- there ispractice-- but," she frowns. "Aye." With approval, even, for this abridged version. "Always works... well. Think of it this way." Leova holds out her hand, scarred palm to face Farideh. "Put your hand to mine," she says. "Push, not too hard." Farideh's eyes drop to Leova's palm first, before she's hesitantly followingthe greenrider's instruction and placing her hand on top, pushing justslightly. "Like this?" she asks, glancing back up at the older woman'sface, for the next directive. Leova's nod confirms. "Your hand gets to be on top, because you're the queen, you got that going for you. That light push, that's the younger-weyrling-you, her, not so much emotional as learning how. So maybe my hand budges a little," like hers did just now, "but it's not much. Now you're come into yourself more: push harder, not hard yet." Curiosity lights the weyrling's eyes as she does as she's prompted to do,lightly at first, then pushing harder and still not hard untilotherwise instructed. "Like--" Farideh frowns and her brow knits withconcentration. "As she gets-- older? More experienced?" is asked,without taking her eyes off their matched hands. "Both." Leova lets Farideh move her hand downward a few inches, giving some resistance at first but not enough to stop her. "A dragon. Most dragons. ...Reset." If Farideh does, this time there's token resistance right at first, but only at first. "A dragon that's not strong-minded. Or weakened by youth, or age, or distress. Reset." This time, Farideh's press isn't resisted at all, but rather is, "Welcomed. A dragon who realizes on some level that it's what he or she wants. Needs." A loud ah-hah moment in not forth coming, but some of the contemplation clears from Farideh's expression as they move from phase to phase,resistance and no resistance. "That all-it makes sense, now, when you--put it like that. I was thinking of it as more--" She pauses, inhales abreath, and lets it out, shaking her head. "I'm not sure what I thought,but that-- it helps put it in better perspective of what we're supposed tofeel, supposed to expect." "Good." Then, of course, Leova resets it again. "Now you've got a strongminded, healthy, adult dragon. Who doesn't want it. Move my hand down." "Okay," is followed by hesitancy, again, her hand lifting and then trying topress against the less welcoming 'presence'. "It won't be easy,"Farideh mutters, with a frown again, trying in the obvious way thatshows her effort. It isn't easy. Their palms don't move, for all that the Glacier rider doesn't look like she's trying. "Except, you're a queen," Leova says. "So let's say that this is when you're in ill health, yourself. Or exhausted. Though even then, maybe," she lets their hands creep downward. "Or in full health, and motivated." Now Farideh's hand appears to move hers slowly but inexorably. "But..." Farideh is paying attention to every word, captivated by the details of thisparticular lesson, and when Leova leaves her statement unfinished, herdistracted gaze lifts. "--but?" That's when Leova sweeps her other hand to prop up her elbow, bracing the other in turn on her knee. "The dragon calls for Niahvth and asks her to help." Now her hand isn't going anywhere. She has that one-cornered smile again. "Assuming she helps. And doens't help you. And you two don't squash this dragon like a vtol between you." "And that last part is supposed to be bad?" is queried almostinnocently, except there's a smile pushing through that frown and amischievous look too. "Both are better than one, but not necessary-- onlywhen necessarily, not if they don't want it-- unless they need it,"Farideh says, much quieter, returning her focus to their hands. "Aye," follows the greenrider's chuckle. Leova considers her. "Though sometimes two aren't better, if they're going different ways, or if they're going to spook the dragon. Or squash. It helps to know your Weyr. Know who's going to be bothered. And why. Maybe they don't like certain ways of going about it, but others are all right. Like trying to get an injured dragon to go to sleep, or to not feel... or distracting her, taking the edge off. One more time." She holds her hand out, mid-level, palm down. "Swap, this time." "Too much of a good thing, too, then, and--" Here, Farideh's brow dips again,and she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. "Get to know-- everyone.Easier said than done?" Her eyes flick up once and then down, enough timeto check Leova's expression before she swaps her hand, putting it underthe dragonhealer's this time. "Definitely. Go ahead, resist me. But," said wryly, as Leova presses into Farideh's hand, "what else is she going to do when you're working out hides?" Though she does add, "And nap." And also abruptly change her angle, no longer pushing downward but off to the side. "Fly? Swim? Eat?" It's obvious Farideh's hasn't ever given this much thought,and again it's not something she lingers on as she tries to workagainst Leova's exerting force. "She has-- a lot to do in a very shorttime, then." "Does she?" Her hand zigs, her hand zags, aiming for unpredictable. "Yes," Farideh says blatantly, and looks immediately apologetic for it. Sheeven loses traction in the war-of-hands, hers descending under thepressure of Leova's. "It's just-- there's a lot of dragons to get to knowand anything could happen anytime." A lot of dragons. Leova lets go, and puts both her hands out at the same time, palm up. "Now imagine keeping track of a wing's worth of hands, and you only have one." Hers stay still to begin with, starting to give... and then start moving from side to side and even towards and away from Farideh again, sometimes separating, sometimes reuniting once more.
Whether it is or isn't, that's when Leova says, "Takes focus, see." And switches to one hand. Simple. So simple. If Farideh settles, though, she'll curl her fingers to tickle. "It does. I don't think--" Farideh releases a pent up, half-petulant breath, but gives Leova a playful look, nose-scrunched and lips quirked in a small smile. "Roszadyth doesn't have a problem focusing, but this-- it will take practice. More than-- it'll have to do." "Try juggling," Leova says, wry. "Or stitching with both hands. Anyhow." She sits up. Rolls her shoulders. Smiles back at Farideh, one-cornered. "So. Practice. How're you thinking you'll get that?" "That sound awful," of juggling and stitching. "I don't know. I guess we can practice on the other weyrlings for now. Jorrth and Aeaeth and Akluseth and-- for now, and move up to older dragons, after? Simple things, small things, until--" Presumably, she gets it. "Mm. Tell me about practicing on 'em." Leova says rather than answers. "How'd you go about doing that?" "We can wait for someone to get upset or worried? It's not as bad now, since we're so close to the end, but sometimes people still make mistakes-- get injured, regret a decision, worry that Quinlys will drag them through the Weyr by their ears. If it makes it to the dragon-- then-- we practice, I suppose," but Farideh looks a little undecided. "First off, naught wrong with worrying. Might save their behinds, come to that," Leova points out. "Same thing with regret. You understand me, Farideh? Not your job to save them from the little things, 'specially when that means they don't learn." "How else are we supposed to practice?" Farideh goes back to frowning, her eyebrows knitting together as she studies Leova from across the table. "Realize it's not easy," Leova admits. "To start with, Farideh, you need the all-clear. That means I want you asking for a 'yes' from grown dragons' riders before you act. That means getting that yes from Quinlys about your clutchmates. I'm going to start calling you in for some of the older dragons as have joint-ail and the like, that could use just feeling a little better. You can help them there, and it'll be hard to help, and you'll get a feel for it. Then it'll be when we have accidents 'round here, so you can learn that sort of thing. Might be your off hours, can't exactly plan those, but you'll manage, hm?" "The--" Farideh's eyes widen a fraction, but she's quiet as she listens, leaning just slightly forward and watching Leova with interest. "I-- yes. I can do that. That would be-- beneficial. I would be grateful. Whatever I have to do-- it doesn't matter. Roszadyth will wake me up if it's the middle of the night or-- whatever works, whenever works. We just need the practice, however it comes; joint pain or-- anything." The dragonhealer's slow smile grows, and grows. "Aye. Good to see you... responding, like this. Got a lot of confidence in you and Roszadyth, that you'll get it. Couple more things to talk about, and you'll be free for the day." The praise from the greenrider makes Fairdeh's face positively light up, but then she's tipping her chin down in an obedient nod. "We appreciate it, Leova. We wouldn't be much if it wasn't for-- everyone. Irianke, Quinlys, you." She pauses, and nods again. "Ok. What else?" she queries, curiously. Leova accepts that, with that slight, somewhat wry smile again. "Imagine Irianke will want to talk to you too, at her convenience. But. We'll be talking about situations, you and I: gauging what's enough, what's too much. You can see how where you might try to push someone between, thinking to avoid one risk, and they come out wrong, you know?" After a moment to let that sink in, "Or lulling pain: that helps, mostly, but most times don't take out... so much sense of themselves that they can't control what's left, if they've been controlling aught at all." "I'm sure she will," Farideh avers. "Sending someone between-- you mean, we send them wrong and they might never come back?" Her lips press together tightly for a moment. "I don't think I understand what you're saying. When they don't have any-- when we-- no-- I don't," with yet another frown. "Could. Don't expect you'll have to, it's not Fall. But." Leova considers the girl. Instead of addressing that one thing, she says, "Could be, talking about this like this, right now, is making it seem harder than it has to be. It won't be. Lot of it's going to be intuition, and we're not going to make you lay out a flow chart for each and every thing. That help?" Despite the creased forehead and continued confused expression, Farideh sucks in a breath that she quickly releases, following it with a distinct, "Yes. I suppose, it does." Non-flowcharting and all. "I'm always-- but I shouldn't be-- surprised when there's more to it than it seems, with everything." "Unless a flowchart helps you," Leova says, dry but tinged with humor rather than disparagement. "Seems like with everything, there's more and more and more, except the odd time where it's not. You still seeing Madilla? Taking your minutes to drink your tea and not worry about anything at all?" "No. No more charts," Farideh is quick to reply. "I haven't had any more time with Madilla, but I-- yes, I'm taking time and not letting it get so-- pent up-- like before. It will be better once everything's not so up in the air, once everything's settled. I still worry, but I've realized-- am trying to realize that I can't oversee everything and something things--" She shrugs; c'est la vie. Leova's nod is slow, too. Considering. "Glad to know that," she says. "Didn't run into that so much until Via, but then it slammed." It's her turn to shrug, a subtler gesture: enough with the personal. "Anyhow. We'll talk about that, and we'll talk about when to use it, respecting that some pairs are so grateful and some get cranky and just because you can don't mean you should... and once you really know what you're doing, when it's wise to override anyhow. No charts, just getting you situated so you have an idea what's out there." They have a plan. "Meantime: want you to write down every time you try something, accident-like or on purpose, and bring it next time. And talk to Quinlys. You good for now?" "I don't think anything can prepare you. Not even if you're Weyrbred. It's-- completely different," Farideh adds, almost sentimentally, and hastily moves on with a smile. "Write down all the times we practice on-- others, for whatever reason, and make sure to talk to Quinlys first. Homework. I think I've got it, now. I can only hope it's-- that we'll get it. Sooner rather than later?" But then she's nodding, affirming that she's all set for their lesson today. "Yes. Thank you." "Aye." Different. Leova's gaze doesn't dip, staying on Farideh instead. "Sooner," she can hope, her smoky voice holding back a chuckle. "Welcome. It'll help." Then she's standing, hooking her chair on the arm, the better to follow it with Farideh's and head back in the curving tunnel to work. |
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