Logs:Surly Weyrlings
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| RL Date: 31 July, 2014 |
| Who: V'ros, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: V'ros trains, Edyis is extremely helpful - or not. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 5, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: G'docs, as usual feel free to correct anything I may have missed. |
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| Clear skies are certainly a herald of good things to come, even so early in the day. Sounds of activity fill the bowl - from the bleating sounds of the livestock in the pens, to the idle chatter of passing weyrfolk, and even the occasional bellow from dragons soaring overhead. Everything is familiar and safe. Even the weyrlings are making the most of their morning, some running laps, others practicing strength training. V'ros is one of the latter, hauling a large sack of.. something.. back and forth between about ten feet. It is a difficult task for the short former Holder, if the bulging veins, red face, and sweat-soaked shirt are any indication. He drops off his burden after a few laps and sinks to the ground near the stone wall of the bowl, leaning his head back with his eyes closed, and breathing quite heavily. No one pays him any mind - it's just another day in the life of a resident of High Reaches Weyr. Spring is often the herald of summer, except when you live in reaches and the weather doesn't seem to be consistent. The scribe is back to work these days, today being no exception, and today it's more of pestering innocent weyrlings for the sake of the history records. She's found a nice perch atop a fence and seems to be studying the training weyrling. "Are you training or trying to kill yourself with exhaustion?" Comes the helpful question finally after some minutes. Squinting against the harsh glare of the sun shining in the cloudless sky, V'ros turns his head towards the sound of the voice. He can only stare at Edyis, atop her perch, before slowly shaking his head. "I'm practicing my dance technique, can't you tell?" His tone is flat, though the threads of sarcasm are obvious. "If that's the case your form is all wrong it's step, step, faint, not faint, faint, faint." The words are equally sarcastic but not without a touch of good humor. She continues eyeing him from her perch hiding a smirk, or at least politely trying to. "I'm fairly sure I haven't encountered that dance about 'Reaches any where, so is it safe to assume you're one of the new imports?" She must mean weyrlings. "New to you," the weyrling supplies helpfully - or not so helpfully depending on her viewpoint - and flexes his fingers. "I've been here about six months now." V'ros leans his head back against the wall again, closing his eyes for the second time, and seems set on dismissing the archive aide. "Ah that would explain why I can't remember you. I'm normally impeccable when it comes to names." It's not intended as a brag, but it could come across that way. "Edyis Assistant Records keeper and you are?" She asks expectantly, almost staring him down. Without so much as a smile or opening his eyes, V'ros says, "That would explain it then." He falls silent for many beats, drawing out the silence unnaturally, before he relents with a sigh. "I'm V'ros. I'm sure you know there were only three browns at the last hatching, only one Impressed a male, so.. what kind of record keeper are you?" Annoyance tinges that last question. "The kind who was at Monaco Weyr during the hatching, what's your excuse?" the quip is supplied. "Ah so you are a weyrling. See now was that so difficult? I may have a good memory, but I usually need at least an introduction. If you impressed a brown that makes you one of the two I've left to take color notations on." Fresh page shifted to the top of the pile, irritation noted and dismissed. "Where's your lifemate then, we can get this out of the way while you play at moving firestone sacs." One eye cracks open, regarding the records keeper with little disdain. "Zmeyth is busy--" but even as he says the words, the dark smoke brown comes ambling across the bowl, dismissing this eager clutch sibling or that one, making a straight line for his weyrling. "There, you can make all the annotations you wish." His eyes close again with a frenetic flourish of his hand, just as Zmeyth comes to a stop a few short feet from V'ros, his heavy, whirling gaze falling on Edyis with curiosity. Edyis actually drops from her perch, moving over to get a better look at the brown, who as most dragons at this age, seems to be growing by the minute. "Quite the handsome fellow." Dragon not the rider, clearly. She quickly gets the lines and shapes on paper, mentally filing away the rest of the details for when she's at a desk with inks. "So V'ros are you always this charming or only when you're exhausted out of your mind with training?" A smirk presents at the compliment to his dragon, though the brown doesn't do anything more than continue his intense stare. "Zmeyth thanks you for your generous compliment." Obviously, there's more, but V'ros doesn't seem willing to share the rest. He lets his eyes slowly open, so he can watch the scene of the records keeper sketching his dragon carefully. "I save my best for annoying record aides, honestly." His brown eyes are level, his smile removed in favor of a neutral expression. "I will keep that in mind for future encounters." Working quickly, though she's already memorized what she needs. "So where did you come from originally, Hold, Weyr or Hall?" She asks conversationally, the tone shifting in the general direction of polite conversation, before shifting the sketch to where V'ros can view it himself from the ground, "The final will be in inks, would you like a copy?" V'ros shifts so he can stretch out his legs. "I came from a small Hold around Tillek way, on the northern side." That's about as much as she'll get though, before he's tilting his head to look at the sketch. "Yeah, I think I would - Zmeyth would like one, that is." He turns to look at the brown, who is still looking at Edyis. "He says don't make him look wimpy." It's at Tillek that she focuses, quietly. "I'll be sure he's depicted in all his brawny glory." She notes, before (invited or not) she is plopping down next to them in the grass. "Tillek, I've been there a few times, there's a few nice vintners in the area. You said the northern part? Were you in one of the smaller sea holds or -" She leaves the rest for him to fill in, moving to yet another fresh sheet, working from her new vantage point.
Zmeyth is their sentinel, planted firmly in his spot, watching with a never-wavering gaze, even as Edyis sits down next to V'ros. V'ros himself, on the other hand, looks like he wants to scramble away - his expression is vaguely alarmed at the vicinity of the girl. "Uh, not a sea hold, just a minor Holding. Winter Ridge Hold in the north, principale wool export. We had our fair share of vintners, nothing as remarkable as others." Who's heard of personal space in a weyr, if his alarm is noted, it's nothing she outwardly reacts to. "Wood exports." She comments, thoughtfully, "Do you hear much from home since you impressed? I imagine getting used to the weyr was a feat in itself. Took me months to get used to the whole coed bathing thing." Offered with something of a shiver, "Still gets to me sometimes truthfully." "No, I don't hear anything," V'ros says with an edge to his voice, and from there lets the subject drop. He angles his body away from Edyis, making it so he would have to turn his head to look at her. "It's faster when you Impress, you don't have a choice that way." Zmeyth takes this opportunity to come closer, his shadow falling over the pair. The shadow has her giving the little brown a glance, though perhaps it's the edge in V'ros voice that prompts the softening of her own tone. "Impression or not, the weyr changes you. I was rude earlier." Is as close to an apology as V'ros will get but at least the warmth in her voice is genuine. Focused on the work, if she's insulted by the angling it doesn't show in her expression. V'ros snorts, unrefined. "What do I care if you're rude. Be rude all you want." He sets his shoulders, leaning forward to balance his forearms on his knees. "Look, if you're here to take a sketch, do it. I'm not interested in making friends." Callous guy that he is, he doesn't even give her his focus when he says it, instead staring off into space. Zmeyth is happy to keep crowding them in, inching closer and closer, his dark head lowering more on level with the two humans against the stone wall. "Zmeyth," V'ros warns, switching his attention to the unwelcome brown. The laugh that follows is easy, and seems at least to be completely unbothered by V'ros's disinterest. She does give the brown a wary glance, but doesn't seem concerned about his approach as yet. "Well aren't you about as charming as a watch wher. Not to worry I am not particularly interested in being your friend, or anything else for that matter." More shading, more lines, the brown has her attention more fully now. "I was just curious about the place you came from, all kinds of odd things coming out of Tillek these days." V'ros starts when Zmeyth lowers his snout nearer Edyis, as if to sniff her hair. "No.. no. stop!" He manages to distract the brown enough, redirect his attention a bit. "Not now," he grounds out with a meaingful look, which the brown obviously ignores, keeping his whirling eyes centered on the record keeper. "Tillek? You're worried about Tillek? Shouldn't you be busy copying dried out hides?" It's defensive, irate - likely he isn't happy with her estimation that Tillek produces unsavory things. "Tillekans are upstanding citizens. I have to wonder where someone like 'you' comes from." The brown's snout draws her attention and she focuses on the creature, then on V'ros. "Should I be concerned or is he just curious?" As though it was a question she was frequently used to asking, completely unbothered by the brown's proximity. "Of course they are, I only meant that people have been telling strange stories about the area lately. Originally? Esvay Valley, Nabol." "He's.. curious." It's a hesitant statement, at best, so take it as she will, but Zmeyth does move off to the side after a few minutes, more interested in one of his clutch siblings whom is pouncing around. V'ros snorts, "Nabol? You have no room to talk about strange things. Really, I can't believe, Nabolese.." Agian, he shakes his head, and pushes himself up to his feet, where he dusts off his clothing. "It's been.. interesting." She shrugs that off. "Not particularly." She replies of his use of the word interesting. "but I will be sure to get the finals to you at the earliest opportunity." Or latest, given the surly nature of the weyrling. V'ros has one last glance to spare on Edyis, a fleeting thing, before he moves away, following the leisurely path of his dragon. |
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