Logs:Rumpled Shirt
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| RL Date: 14 December, 2014 |
| Who: R'hin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin seeks Telavi's thoughts on the latest group of weyrlings suitability for Savannah. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 7, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, Jadzia/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions |
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| It's an unutterably gorgeous day, all warm sunshine and blue skies at High Reaches of all places, perfect for lazing away the afternoon by the lake-- which, combined with the nearness of graduation and resultant senioritis, is precisely why Iesaryth and Reisoth's thirteen weyrlings are not there, but rather seated in a double semi-circle by the barracks while one-armed J'vain talks with them about Weyr Duty during Interval. Telavi's hanging out behind them, having commandeered Solith's paw to lean against, ostensibly to keep an eye on who might be falling asleep in the sunshine. Ostensibly, it's not to make side comments here and there, even when that winds up happening anyway. R'hin's been sticking close to the Weyr, the last few sevens, and he's been showing up randomly during several of the weyrling lessons during that period. He's likely not the only Wingleader to do so as the group gets nearer to graduation, though admittedly he has a bit of an in; he strides up next to Telavi with a nod first for Solith, before he not-quite-leans in next to the greenrider. "Is this the first time Quinlys has let him do this speech?" he asks, after listening for a few minutes. It's Solith who notices first, too, though the flutter of her wingtips manages to not disturb Telavi's rest; Tela has a quick, not-quite-surprised smile for the man. "Funny that you'd notice," she says under her breath. "You should have heard him practice on me earlier... but don't get me wrong; Q's going to have at them too. Essays." The lift of her brow suggests that the wingleader himself could stand to quake in fear. "Funny," R'hin echoes, using her precise intonation, like he definitely doesn't find it such, and yet pale gaze remains familiar in its amusement. There's a definitive snort for the e-word. "They used to hand out essays as punishment in Igen. Oversleep; write an essay. Dragon's sick? Write an essay. Forget to salute? Write an essay. S'din was an awful Weyrlingmaster, but at least the constant laps did me some good, however inadvertent." He's silent, and one could get the impression he's listening to J'vain, and yet his next question indicates otherwise: "Any likely prospects amongst this group?" "When did you become so familiar with Igen's punishments?" Tela asks with another of those sideways smiles. Musingly, "They aren't bothered by laps anymore, sad to say; not unless we run them into the night or assign them instead of elevator duty, and for some reason people don't like getting trapped in their parent's-weyrmate's-whatever's weyrs." Her eyes have not so much narrowed as grown that much more thoughtful, lashes drifting slightly downward now that she's looked so quickly back to the weyrlings' heads. "Second from the right, over there. But she's so... young." "I was... friendly with some of the weyrlings. And some of the riders." R'hin's explaination is given without embarrasement, and plenty of innuendo. It's Telavi's comment about getting trapped that earns a long look from her sometime-Wingleader. "There's a reason riders normally place their children with the nannies," he says, blandly, while simultaneously sliding a oh-so-casual arm around Telavi's shoulders. His grin is unrepentant, as his gaze follows in the indicated direction. "Hm. She's a blue, doesn't she? Young isn't bad -- sometimes it's easier. But," with a low-throated chuckle, "We can always try and poach her later, so long as Taikrin doesn't indoctrinate her into Glacier." "Of course you were," Tela says with teasing belief, with something more complicated, but nothing that keeps her from leaning into his loose embrace after a moment or two. "I should hope so," for nannies, precedes, "Yes, and he's clever; they both are, really, and have the... want-to-find-out-ishness? But no, I can't see her in Glacier. Snowdrift, now, she could learn a thing or two there, make some connections, and then... then we can take her back." Someone still hasn't forgiven Mielline, not quite, or maybe it's that she refuses to forget. "Let Mielline do the hard work, and we reap the rewards?" Which isn't to say R'hin's opposed to the idea in any way; he seems pleased if anything. "It's not a bad idea; she trains them in some skills that could prove useful to us. If we start to poach too many, though, someone will have to smooth over things." Which is possibly why he's looking at her all expectantly. "Exactly--" only then he goes on, and she narrows her eyes at him. "Don't give me that look," Telavi tells R'hin, her elbow angling for his ribs: not to strike, but to nudge to remind that she could. "As though you've done so much of it already, from her anyway." She glances at J'vain, who's setting his student examples, then ingenuously up to R'hin again. "Speaking of weyrlings, how is Jadzia working out for you?" "What look?" R'hin returns, all conceited innocence, over exaggerating in his wince at her not-very-hard nudge. "Not yet," he counters, with a sudden, knowing smile. "But I'm definitely going to point her at our bluerider friend over there," without any indication towards the weyrling. He visibly seems to muse over her question of Jadzia, before finally saying, "Well, she's stepped up. Worked hard to replace a certain greenrider. It's like we don't even need you at all anymore..." "If you must," Telavi says with a bit of a sniff. And then-- and then-- Tela might have appreciated his discretion when it comes to said weyrling, but now there's more than a little disregard when she doesn't elbow him but does aim to kick her heel into his shin. "If you don't, I'll just have to suffer through relaxing with Quinlys all summer long, and all autumn and winter too, and you'll have to live with that." R'hin's reaction this time is probably a little more genuine, when he winces at that strike hits his shin. Shifting his weight more onto Solith to ease that on his leg, he grins down at her, insufferably. "Suffer," he scoffs, "You'll be bored. You're no layabout, to miss out on daring escapes, holder intrigue, and bandit ruffians." Or something. He leans closer, murmuring, "You've got the taste now. Can't escape. Poor girl," he might just be daring her to kick his other shin, too, at this rate. Telavi's on duty here. Telavi, R'hin's previous weyrlingmaster might have thought, should be looking all upright and imperturbable and focused on the important information J'vain is handing down-- and not, however true R'hin's words, on twisting up to send a fist toward his windpipe. At least she pulls it, intending to do no more than poke his collarbone; and, she avoids telegraphing it in a way that might startle a poor sleepy weyrling. She doesn't even grr. She catches him off guard, it's true; R'hin flinches back, reflexively bringing up his own hand in counter before he aborts the gesture, the contact of her fist brief but successful. Enough so that he clears his throat and looks at her with an expression that could be read as proud, but might also be intimidating enough to be otherwise. "Telavi, Telavi, Tel-aaaa-veee," he sing-songs, with a cluck of his tongue. 'Tel-aaa-veee' is certainly pink in the cheeks, especially since a couple of the weyrlings have wound up looking back at them after all-- the young bluerider among them-- before J'vain clears his throat; it's not as though she's looked away to see their reactions, but Solith... well, Solith is sometimes what Telavi might consider to be a little too helpful. "Yes, sir?" the greenrider wonders up to him, wide-eyed and possibly a little breathless with her own daring; "Is your shirt rumpled?" R'hin, neither, is interested in the reaction of the weyrling group nor the assistant weyrlingmaster; he's focused on Telavi. "A bit rumpled. Ought to straighten it." She ought to? Or in a more generic sense? He doesn't precisely clarify. "Maybe I ought to talk to Mielline about some sort of transition to wing program for you," but he's probably only teasing. Probably. Telavi certainly doesn't object to the first, though neither will she object should R'hin stop her from straightening it, neatly; then, though, she turns away enough to face J'vain again. That way, she can murmur out of the corner of her mouth, "You may try." Perhaps she's that confident in him, despite those still-pink cheeks, despite that possible threat; perhaps she's that confident in Quinlys. Meanwhile, the lecture can't last forever. There's certainly no objection on R'hin's part, and there's definitely a flicker of amusement in pale eyes as he watches her do so. "I do like a challenge," he murmurs, in turn, once she's done. The lecture? Hm. It does earn his attention, gaze flickering over the gathered weyrlings. As is his habit, he seems apt to slip out before the weyrlings are set free, with a little nudge of his shoulder into Telavi's by apparent way of farewell as he leaves. |
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