Logs:Spacing
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 23 April, 2016 |
| Who: Catling, N'rov |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: N'rov, after relinquishing a refurbished wingrider, investigates Catling's and Riyoth's progress... including, after an interaction with fellow weyrlings, their approach to obeying. Catling says she's not ready to be a Weyrleader. |
| Where: Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 8, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'kon/Mentions, Kh'tyr/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, Olivya/Mentions, Tavish/Mentions |
 |
| It's too early, surely, for weyrlings to really be considered for wings... and yet there's N'rov observing early flight practice, dropping in as he semi-regularly does. This time he's standing with Jerixa, one of his latest additions cycling through Onyx (betting continues as to whether the sometimes-troublesome bluerider will be kept, promoted, or demoted) and Jasper's wingleader. Of course, it is also a sunny day... Already the weyrling pairs have finished their warming-up exercises, and they are practicing wheel-and-circle, going up and down in spiralling circles, keeping careful distance from each other. Riyoth is in the middle of a trio of wheeling dragons, and on his back Catling sits confidently, taking her cues and leaning into the turns. Her expression is intent, and even though this lesson is getting old for some of the dragon pairs, these two, at least, seem to be gaining something from the lesson. It's the third in the trio that Jasper's pointing at, N'rov showing every appearance of listening... unless Jasper's referring to the green on the ledge just beyond, soaking up the sun and all but asleep. The bronzerider's gray gaze moves on to track Riyoth, though, and then abruptly flick to the assistant weyrlingmaster overseeing the practice. It's a breath or two later that out of nowhere, that green isn't so sleepy-looking anymore, but rather trumpets loudly at the circling trio. The circling trio includes a pair of blues along with Riyoth, and they both break formation in a flutter of wings. Catling's head jerks over towards the green, and Riyoth's tail jerks briefly in surprise. Then he, too, shifts from his original flight pattern, sharing quick words with his rider before reaching out a tendril of thought to the green. « Is something the matter? » he asks, mind-voice steady. Then his attention flicks back to Catling again, before sending to the blues, « Watch your spacing.... » Catling, on his back, briefly touches her straps, then looks above and below, calling out to the other weyrlings, though what she says is not audible to the Weyrleader. The green's a tinkle of light over waterfall-spray as the blues fall back into line and the assistant weyrlingmaster urges them to keep going: yes, it's delightful. N'rov's muttering back and forth with Jasper over Jerixa's head, which doesn't stop her from chiming in, and getting a raised brow for it; what they say likely isn't audible yet either, so conversational is the 'see what you mean' and 'stable' and 'less aware?' and 'ready?' and the rest. Even when the weyrlings are done and taking off their dragons' straps, the other three are still around; The assistant weyrlingmaster waves them on to work further, but even when they're eventually directed to finish up and take off their dragons' straps, the other three are still around... albeit arguing in a low-voiced way, debate rather than anger for those who can tell the difference. Riyoth seems satisfied with the green's answer, settling back into the routine. Still, when it comes time to land, he slides out of the standard formation, waiting with Catling for both blues to land before coming to ground himself, backwinging confidently. Catling's dismount is a bit less polished; with the dragon still-growing the distance always changes. She taps his leg and then laughs, swinging herself hand-over-hand down the straps around his flank before half-sliding down his leg. "Yes, it was good today," she agrees, pulling off the straps, inspecting them with deft fingers before slipping them over her shoulder. "Yes, I agree. They're still stiff. I'll work them more tonight." Then she turns her head, blinking at the assistant weyrlingmaster and the other trio who remain. There's a lot of gesturing, a smirk or two, and a flip of a mark; Jasper looks pleased, and Jerixa long-suffering but smirky in her own right, as she then accepts a badge from Jasper's hand. N'rov claps her officially on the shoulder and abandons the pair to head off together as he saunters towards the other little group. When the assistant has had enough of them, the bronzerider inquires of Catling, "Does he often tell them what to do?" Hello to you too, Riyoth, says his half-smile. Catling draws herself up and gives a proper salute, though it is marred somewhat by the end of the straps still in her hand. which smack her unceremoniously in the face. She flushes slightly, then looks to her dragon. Something reassuring passes between them, though she does, probably unconsciously, take a step closer to Riyoth. "Good afternoon, sir. He.... doesn't tell them to do things.... often. That's not his place now, sir. But.... when there is need to...." She swallows hard. "They were drifting into angles that would have made the banking turn really difficult, and they don't know....erm.... I mean, we..." She flushes. "When the inner wing of the turn is tucked almost fully in, that would have kept them safely spaced, but they don't... erm... we weyrlings haven't learned that yet..." "'We' haven't," repeats N'rov, crooking a brow jocularly at Riyoth and then his rider. He lets silence hang before catching the moment into more; he, notably, does not catch the assistant weyrlingmaster's eye. "Do they usually listen, would you say? And if so, what do you attribute that to?" "As... erm... a group." Catling coughs. "Riyoth and I figured it out. We get put in with the greens and blues a lot. They usually listen, though sometimes their riders get a little tetchy, and we talk afterwards. The other browns, often listen. The bronzes? Hit or miss. Why do they? Riyoth's confident, but not.... bossy, if that makes sense. He sees patterns. Together we see where the patterns will go. I see outcomes from there. I mean, not all the time. But often enough. And sometimes... there's not time to relay to the weyrlingmaster's dragon...." She swallows hard, drawing herself up again. "I am sorry if we have overstepped our position, sir." N'rov gazes down at her, his mouth cut into a vague smile contrasted by sharp, concentrating eyes; "I'm certain that if you have, your weyrlingmasters would have told you." Just as dryly, but with that much more amusement, "Or will." Now he widens the range of his gaze to incorporate the assistant weyrlingmaster more clearly, but doesn't summon them over. "What are your thoughts on unquestioning obedience?" "Unquestioning?" Catling blanches briefly, then shakes her head. "There are times, times that obedience must be given. And given unquestioningly, because sometimes to disobey or hesitate is to die. Like when you're told to duck or get down. As examples." Catling tilts her head. "But.... well. You need to trust. That's the first. You cannot obey if you cannot trust. You have to balance obedience with... well. With thinking for yourself. Because.... I mean, what if you're in flight with your wing and something happens to your wingleader? Your wingleader and wingseconds? If you can't think for yourself, might as well count yourself gone between forever. So..." She sighs. "I'm trying to work out the whens on obedience versus questioning versus thinking." N'rov contradicts, blithe over a darker ambiguity, "One can easily obey without trust. It's a matter of doing it. That doesn't mean not watching out for issues and even alternatives, Catling. That also doesn't mean not thinking for yourself... Would you say that your supervisors are, ah, helpful in clarifying what and when?" Catling stands very still for a moment, pensive. "It's... Riyoth wants to think things through. He doesn't mind orders that make sense. So he tries to understand why, why, why for everything first." Then she looks down. "And I.... I don't think I can anymore. Obey someone I don't trust. I won't. I...." She looks up, then sighs. "My supervisors have been helpful giving answers, helpful explaining a lot of the whys. Riyoth's and my place in all of this..... order-structure.... I haven't asked, yet." "Won't you." N'rov's emphasis is slight, suggestive of complication. "For what it's worth... should Zaisavyth surprise us all by rising tomorrow, when I'm seated at Lord Boll's table, I would be expected to obey whichever pair should catch her." His tone, speaking of his queen (his position?) is as possessive as it is, simultaneously, quite deliberately light. "Would you advise that I do otherwise, Catling?" Again there is a long silence, and then Catling lifts her head, meeting the Weyrleader's eyes directly. "That's a different question, sir. There's a difference between obedience and unquestioning obedience. If Riyoth were a few months older and by some cunning trick caught Zaisavyth, would you obey *us*? And, for the good of the Weyr, *should* you? I don't think there's one good, neat answer that covers all situations, sir. But I'm not ready to be a Weyrleader. Or any leader. So I would hope that you would not obey me... or at least not unquestioningly." She gives Riyoth a sharp glance, then shakes her head emphatically. "Not cannot, Riyoth. One step at a time. Not ready. Not in knowledge and not in my own self...." Then she looks back at N'rov. "I learned a lot of lessons about unquestioning obedience, sir. But that is why we drill, isn't it? So that we learn to trust, learn in our bones what must be done when there is little time for thought, and to know that who leads us, when it comes down to obedience without question.... knows what he or she is doing." The mere thought strikes an entertained light in the weyrleader's gray eyes, a quirk to his mouth for all that it's not overtly a smile. And then it is. "That would be quite a trick," N'rov observes gravely, and then he slides a knowing look at her brown. "And that would be quite a revolution." The brown catching, so much younger than he who'd caught that queen before? N'rov's supplanting, were he to do so indeed? He doesn't say. "'Unquestioning' and 'unthinking' are two different things," the bronzerider remarks. "There are varieties and varieties of trust. My riders," the possessiveness is ambiguous in breadth and lightly definite in depth, "are anything but automatons. I also recommend that you learn to trust as you must with what you are given... which isn't to say to walk off a cliff blindly. Probation, let us call it, at the least." He cocks a glance over towards the assistant over there who's waiting. "In the meantime," there's that quick smile, "ask as you need to, in the right time and place. Any questions, Catling? I dare say you have five seconds." Before she's called. Catling clasps her hands together, then licks her lips. "Did.... we do wrong, sir, telling the others what to do?" Here, on the ground, her confidence is ebbing. She clenches her hands more tightly. "Am I... expected to obey unquestioningly?" Something flickers in her eyes then, and she moves to lean against Riyoth. "Talk with your weyrlingmaster," N'rov tells her. "Next time I run into you, you can tell me what she has to say," and there's a distinct smirk of a smile. Whether he's observing rank structure or simply not giving her anything beyond the directive to obey unquestioningly or otherwise, or best of all both, he doesn't say; instead he steps away, exchanging nods and brief words with the assistant weyrlingmaster en route to his business of the rest of the day. |
Leave A Comment