Logs:Rank, Now and Later
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 16 July, 2015 |
| Who: Quinlys, T'mic |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: T'mic has questions. Quinlys has answers. And other things. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 4, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edyis/Mentions, Keysi/Mentions |
  |
| He knows - or at least, he strongly suspects - that she'll be here. The blue outside is usually a decent indication. He knocks. (Hard.) Of course he knocks. (On that big, thick door.) But he doesn't wait overly long for a response either, pushing his palm and forearm against the door, and walking to move it more than pushing. "Quinlys?" T'mic himself shouldn't be all that much of a surprise to her, for that matter. Because Jorrth had swooped in to take up a position beside Olveraeth when T'mic first entered the training area. Olveraeth's pleased to see Jorrth, as always, and his rider, who glances up with blue eyes trained on the door from the moment of that first knock, doesn't seem displeased. Indeed, there's something very briefly calculating in her expression, enough so that she makes no comment on use of name in lieu of title, and instead simply beckons the other bluerider in. "T'mic," she says. "Come in." Jorrth has seen something incredible today; an ice slide, up atop a mountain, where spring suns were warming the snow and ice pack. If Olveraeth's got the time, Jorrth's got the details. "Thank you," says T'mic, with a little nod and a strangely cautious closing of the door behind him, especially for such a big door. When he turns, at least, he remembers to salute, quickly. "I've been hoping to catch you. I wanted to ask you. About what you said before. Or, Olveraeth said." "About your suitability for sitting on this side of the desk," says Quinlys, even if she doesn't actually have a desk, and there aren't really 'sides' to the table she has instead. Apparently, the phrasing amuses her; she smirks. "It's something you're interested in," she concludes, then, pressing both forearms to the table and leaning slightly forward as she does so. Olveraeth's delighted by what Jorrth has to share, details captured with each twinkling stars: yes, yes, oh, yes, that's perfect. What a wonderful world! T'mic can't really say it better; he's halfway to an easy shrug when he changes his mind on it, and straightens up, big shoulders all squared up, and nods. "Yes." Another one of those nods. "Both of us." Jorrth is going to be spending lots more time in the mountains. And sweep there. Oh yes. Quinlys' smile turns softer, somehow, as she says, "I think Olveraeth knew he wanted to teach even before I did, but only just. It was early on, for us. Just something we... knew." It ends in a nod, a sharp one that sends her hair-- worn loose, today, while they're not actually riding-- bobbing about her shoulders. "You did really well with Edyis, T'mic. And in general. You've the right kind of temperament for the job, I should think. And the patience. We're certainly not opposed to it." T'mic's nose wrinkles up a bit; first, amused, though he manages to resist the urge to look all the way around to the outside, where Jorrth and Olveraeth are marvelling at marvels together. Then, it becomes a bit troubled. "I sort of thought maybe I pushed her too far. Wanted to ask you about that, too. With alll," a big hand waves in the air a bit, at that cornerless desk, "this." "Mmm," says Quinlys, thoughtfully, now leaning backwards in her chair. "She managed, didn't she? Sometimes you do have to push people out of their comfort zones, at least a little. They key, in my experience, is to be aware of when you have gone too far, and pull it back in. You've a responsibility to their well-being; that, above all." "I guess she did," T'mic agrees, though he's still got a Thinking face o once it seems otherwise laid to rest. Even when he nods in answer to that bit about well-being. Of course, say his eyes, but emphatically. "So if we do it," comes next, "do... we go wingrider first for a while, so we know more about that? And what about extra training with you? How does it work?" Quinlys studies T'mic's expression, that Thinking face, but doesn't comment on it. It's not until that last set of questions that she straightens, shaking her head. "Wingrider first. Assistant Weyrlingmaster is effectively a promotion; it's not something that happens straight out of weyrlinghood, especially when there are no weyrlings." A pause. "Well, no, even if there were weyrlings, there's no way I'd put a brand new rider in charge of people they were weyrlings with not long before. Once one of the queens rises, we'll rethink it all, and if all goes well, I'll request your transfer, and then you'll start training with me." "Okay," says T'mic, a bit more comfortable with even that bit of structure in mind. "That makes good sense." He brings his hands to link behind his back, giving another nod, to settle it all in his mind. "So when we do go into wings... should I be paying attention to anything more than just me and Jorrth as part of the wing. Well, and the wing," those hands unclasp and come forward, set parallel to each other, and rotated, vice versa, "to us?" "Everything," is blithe, in its way. "You need to pay attention to everything. Because... you have to be able to teach weyrlings how to work in that structure; you can't do that if you don't have a proper feel for it. Really, I'd be happiest if you have a full turn or two in the wings, first, but we'll see how things go. If one of them rises too soon, I'd consider keeping you back in the wings until the next, except there's, frankly, a good chance we'll end up with two groups of weyrlings at once, a few months apart." 'Everything,' mouthed back as he nods. Back where he started. "Jorrth has a good feel for it. Good head for it. We'll work. Just in case." Those queens rise one after the other. The weyrlingmasters are overwhelmed. "At least with silver thread we kind of understand a lot of it alre-" and then he tilts his head. "Is that how come you guys picked us? Teaching?" "It's... part of it," says the Weyrlingmaster, after a moment's pause. "A few people identified you as a pair of interest. You're good with people; it's a plus. It's-- I've had people interested in leadership who didn't seem willing to talk to people, or try to work with them, and that just doesn't work. But yes, you've always seemed a likely prospect for teaching, eventually. Speaking of..." She hesitates. Somewhere after he'd asked, T'mic realises that maybe it wasn't his place. So, "Thanks for telling me," is sincere. His hands clasp behind his back once more. And he lifts his head a bit. She's got his attention. Quinlys nods, to confirm that thanks, but it's that other part of the conversation she's focused on, too. She stands, reaching into the filing cabinet behind her to draw out three small boxes, one of which she slides across the table to the other bluerider. Inside? It's a fancier version of his present knot, one that-- if he's been paying attention in etiquette classes-- he'll recognise as that of a wingleader. T'mic liked etiquette class. Almost as much as the dancing. So he takes that box, wrapping one big hand around it, opening it with the other, and then saying, "Oh." The weyrlingmaster must know that face so well, the look of young people talking to their dragons. Outside, Jorrth is suddenly proud. And intent. T'mic gives Quinlys a nod. Olveraeth, although not a smug dragon in general, is a smug dragon now. Quinlys, having watched that reaction intently, is now equally smug: there's a smile, there, so self-satisfied. "Good," she says. The other two boxes are also slid towards the bluerider. "Wingseconds," she explains, with a nod towards them. "You can have up to two; it's up to you. 'til you all start to graduate, Cirrus is your responsibility." T'mic nods, closing up that first box, with a quick, "Get it on when we get home," of explanation, before palming both those other two boxes with his freed hand. "Yes, ma'am." See? He does know her rank. Really. "Can I ask you one more thing?" "Of course," says the weyrlingmaster, promptly, waving a hand to encourage the question. "What is it?" "Edyis," says T'mic. "This last month. Why did you put her as wingsecond?" "Do you think I shouldn't have?" "I think..." and he does, plain on his face, "that she's been having lots of trouble. That maybe she needed to get out of her head, and most of the drills were through the weyrlingmasters anyway?" There's a hint of a smile, there, on Quinlys' face. "And," she suggests, "Wingsecond is a safer bet than Wingleader. It's not as though Keysi wasn't aware of some of those issues." "Right." It's not something he'd thought of in-depth. But it makes sense. T'mic nods. "I'll try get them done soon," says the younger bluerider, then, gathering all three boxes together, cupped in those big hands of his. "I want to think about it, though. Tonight." Another nod from the redhead. "Take your time," she says. "Remembering, of course, that the longer you take, the more work you have to do on your own." But he knows that, surely. There's a smile again, now, and another nod. "Good luck." "We'll do our best," says T'mic, as if that somehow would answer the wish of luck. "For everyone." « Always, » Jorrth adds quite proudly, preparing to go fetch his rider. "I know you will." And yes: « Always. » |
Contents
Comments
Faryn (22:25, 16 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Quiet squeals of delight! For all he is still not quite in his element, I like that T'mic seems to be finding his stride without so much turmoil as the others. Some people are just naturals.
Alida (00:42, 17 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
You go, 'Mic! (and Jorrth!)
Squishy (07:39, 18 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Go Team Jorrth!
Leave A Comment