Logs:So Many Greenriders
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| RL Date: 7 December, 2013 |
| Who: Ebeny, Reesa |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ebeny promotes Reesa to a full assistant Weyrlingmaster. |
| Where: Weyrling Complex, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 6, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Vash/Mentions, N'dalis/Mentions |
| The smiths are out in force today at the barracks, given the weather's been pleasant. Constructions been moving more swiftly since summer, and they're not far away from finishing - most of the work down to fine detail. Because of the heat of the day, most of the smiths have stripped off their shirts, which is possibly why Reesa is here in one of her dark orange sundresses, handing out cold drinks and pausing to chatter with various smiths. Well, and flirt, really, because who can resist? Ebeny hasn't overseen much of the construction work of late, trusting that things are soon to reach a conclusion, and therefore much real 'damage' can't be done. Today, when she leaves her weyr to take a look at the work going on so close to her home and so often ignored, she's got the smallest of her youngest daughters cradled against her in a soft sling, both arms around her to /somehow/ keep her safer. Maybe she's become a clingy mother. The state of the Smiths mostly goes unnoticed, but Reesa's presence doesn't, and it's the greenrider that the Weyrlingmaster seeks out, rather than the man in charge of the whole operation. "Reesa." Reesa turns at the familiar voice, and with a smile, lifts up the pitcher, "Juice?" she inquires easily. Her gaze flickers towards the child, then back up to Ebeny's face, her acknowledgement of the bundle brief at best. "Have you come to uh- oversee the work, too?" A glance is cast over her shoulder, containing a smile. "They do /very/ good work from what I can see." Not that she knows much of anything about smithing, really. "I guess E'ten doesn't mind... whatever," Ben replies, not even bothering to finish her sentence or where that thought is going, either too tired to or just unwilling to open that whole can of worms. "No, thank you," is her belated response about the pitcher, a shake of her head given to wave off the idea. "I need to talk to you about your wing and your knot and it can't really wait," she states, moving slowly through the construction site, away from the direct hearing of the Smiths. "E'ten?" Reesa echoes, easily. "We're not weyrmated or anything. Besides, I'm just /looking/." It's not really defensive so much as explanatory- she's weyrbred and it's no big deal for her. A long pause, then, "My knot?" The blonde's posture changes pretty quickly, from relaxed to tense, exhaling out a breath. If she didn't have the pitcher she'd probably cross her arms. As it is, she casts another look over her shoulder, then falls into step with the Weyrlingmaster, glancing over expectantly. "Whatever works for you, Reesa." Ben isn't dismissive, yet nor does she seek to get involved in wherever that thread of the conversation might lead, her statement not encouraging or judgemental in the slightest. There's simply a lack of interest or investment there, beyond that half-aborted thought spoken aloud. Only once she's pretty sure that the Smiths aren't listening in and that Reesa's attention is on her rather than them does she say, "You've more or less completed your time as a junior assistant and I've brought on more to train from recent clutches. If Elaruth or Isyath rise within the turn, I'm going to need more assistants that don't need me watching them every second. You don't need me looking over your shoulder anymore." Reesa, too, doesn't seem inclined to stick on that subject, since she considers it a non issue. It's the latter that surprises her; she holds the pitcher loosely in her hand as she regards Ebeny. "You... trust me with the weyrlings?" That, more than anything, seems to catch her off guard, exhaling- but she's smiling, too. "Thank you, Ebeny," she says, heartfelt. Then, a beat later, "Who are the others you brought on?" Ebeny adjusts her hold on Eryn as a squeaky cry lifts from the bundle and the line of the greenrider's shirt buttons suddenly skew as a little hand curls into fabric. "You've done your time, and though I'd suggest you remember to try and remain impartial in as many matters as possible, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be trusted with them. I don't care about Khiabeth's origins; I trained you, I know what I'm doing, and now so do you." If only she could show such confidence in-front of more people. "So, next time we have a clutch, as long as you /want/ to, you can be a full time assistant." And as for those others: "N'dalis and Vash. Maybe one more." A brief wrinkle appears in Reesa's forehead, mainly in reaction to Eryn's cry more than Ebeny's words- the greenrider looks otherwise pleased. "Khiabeth's of Fort," she says, in an undertone, though a beat later, adds, "I do want to." She's surprised, briefly, but then not so much: "Dal will be good. He was good with the younger candidates. Vash is..." she trails off, as if searching for something positive to say. "So many greenriders." She seems oddly happy about that. "Vash is Vash," is what Ben has to say about the younger greenrider. "And that's why she could do with focusing on this sort of thing. She should get more out of it than the weyrlings, at first. Sometimes, I guess that's the way it has to be." She gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Anyway, she and N'dalis might help each other along. We have bronzes and browns and all sorts leading other things. We can lead this, even if they don't ever recognise that it was greenriders who got them where they end up." With a twitch of lips and a nod, Reesa seems to be agreeing with Ebeny's sentiment on Vash, at least. "We do need more greenriding Wingleaders," is the blonde's opinion on that matter. "I mean, it's not like they can use the excuse of not being able to fly a full fall, given we won't have fall for Turns and Turns to come." "Maybe Jasper and Sandstone will find themselves with one," Ben utters wryly, though the little roll of her eyes suggests that she doesn't think there will /really/ be much chance of that. "Maybe if I was in Jasper full time, I'd have pushed for it." Whether she means herself or for another rider, she lets remain unclear, since there seems to be an element of humour struggling to be heard there. "Anyway, I'll get you your knot for tomorrow morning, unless you're desperate to lay hands on it? I should warn you that, if Isyath sets Elaruth off or vice versa, we could end up with two very young classes." "Could be," Reesa agrees, and while Ebeny rolls her eyes, the younger greenrider seems far more serious about that particular goal. "It can wait until tomorrow," she allows with a glance over her shoulder and a smile about what she's going to occupy herself with in the meantime. "That wouldn't be a bad thing, Elaruth could look after Isyath's eggs. Besides, with so many assistants, it'd be a breeze." Or so she thinks, anyway. "...I wonder if Isyath would /let/ Elaruth look after her eggs? Queens can be funny about things like that." Evidently, that's something that Ben is going to ponder on her return journey home, given the thoughtful cast to her features. "Depends how many eggs either of them produce, anyway. There's no telling. Could be one of us per weyrling!" Easier and frustrating at the same time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Reesa." Before she turns to head back through the construction site, she hesitates and adds, "Thank you," without explaining why. And /then/ Eryn starts to wail, so it's just as well she does them both a favour and quickens her step out of there. Reesa makes a noise like disagreement, though she doesn't voice it aloud. "If it's one of us per weyrling, I'm taking one of the greenriders. The bronzeriders are too much trouble for their worth." It doesn't seem like she's joking, either. "Tomorrow," she agrees, with a nod, starting to head back towards the smiths, though she pauses in her stride to look after Ebeny curiously, for that thanks. The Weyrlingmaster's too far away to ask, though- and her child's crying, so the blonde lets the unspoken question of what for, be. |
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