Logs:The Inevitable Talk
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| RL Date: 1 May, 2013 |
| Who: Meara, N'ky |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Meara calls N'ky in for a much-needed talk. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office |
| When: Day 27, Month 8, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Alida/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Played via gdocs. |
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| Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr Made private by a thick, insulated door that blocks out most of the noise from the barracks beyond, the Weyrlingmaster's Office is a comfortable, quiet alcove. Instead of an imposing desk, much of the room is taken up by a large round table, with five chairs spaced around its edges. Beneath it is a square rug pieced together with twisted rags that stretches from wall to wall, just leaving room for the long bookshelves and filing cabinets. On the back wall, a tapestry of the Weyr's badge is hung, providing both insulation and decoration. In one corner sits a small green plant, growing strong despite the lack of sunlight in this windowless room. Beside it rests a tea cart, prepped and ready. It's afternoon. Outside in the bowl, Quinlys is supervising drills-- aerial drills. And yet, Isath knows full well she's not interrupting when she issues her summons, all moonlight and waving grass: « Your rider in the office, please. Now. » It's perfectly pleasant, really, and yet there is no missing it: this is an order, not an invitation, and it carries with it all the force the elderly green can muster. Inside the office, Meara's walking stick is propped up against the wall, just out of the way. The greenrider herself is standing at the tea trolley, pouring the hot, fragrant liquid into two mugs. A plate of cookies is already sitting in the middle of the big, round table. They had been watching from the ground when the inevitable summons came, Cailluneth passing on the message to N'ky where he stood leaning against her side, eyes fixed on the weyrlings in the air above them. Sighing, resigned to the fate he knew was coming, N'ky leaned in closer against his lifemate and had her confirm their attendance. His attendance. With Cailluneth waiting for him as close as possible, N'ky arrives at the weyrlingmaster's office, knocking quietly - perhaps in the hopes that his arrival may go unnoticed so that he can slip off. But, much as he may like to, the young greenrider doesn't have the guts to directly disobey something like this, and he pushes his way through to stand with his back to the door, hands pressed against the wood, eyes cast down to his toes. "W-Weyrlingmaster Meara?" Meara's, "Come in," is relatively neutral, but as N'ky stands there against the door, she turns her head to smile at him, and wave one hand towards the waiting table. "N'ky. Come in, sit down. Have a cookie. Do you want tea? I know it's warm out there, but I can never go past a cup." She doesn't wait for an answer; instead, she picks up both cups, and limps towards the table, setting them down before she sits. The sigh that escapes is weary, but her expression self-deprecating: getting old and arthritic sucks. "Do you want to tell me why you think you're here? I find that's generally an easier place to start. Better, anyway, than me telling you what I think." « She wants to help, » says Isath, abruptly rustling her thoughts towards Cailluneth. « Let her help. Please. » Cailluneth's moonlight responds to Isath, cool and calm, but lacking rainbow emotion other than a thin sheen of protective steel over a glistening goldenpink heart. She knows this is to help. "I'm f-failing in my Harper c-classes?" N'ky hunches forward in his chair, leaning over the cup of tea that he's curled his long fingers around. One stray curl bounces forward over his forehead, hanging just long enough to get in the way of his downcast gaze. "I-I've... I've n-not been s-speaking to anyone a-and I've n-n-not been e-eating very much?" He's quick to add, "But Cailluneth's f-fine, I've been taking e-extra good care of her." His brow creases with a frown, and his shoulders sink a little more. "I'm n-not v-very good at being a w-weyrling." Isath withdraws, apparently satisfied with Cailluneth's response: between them, they will sort things out. Everything will be fine, she promises it. Meara listens, her own fingers wrapped around her own mug, her careful nod the only immediate answer she makes to any of his replies. "I know," she says. "If we thought, even for a second, that you were endangering Cailluneth, this conversation would have happened much, much sooner. You're right: I'm concerned about all of those things. Your classes less than the rest, though; you'll pass them, sooner or later. Do you want to tell me what's bothering you, N'ky? I can't help you be a better weyrling, if I don't know. And I want all of you to be good weyrlings; I want all of you to be happy, well-adjusted weyrlings. Happy, well-adjusted people." She nudges the plate of cookies closer. N'ky shakes his head, both refusing the cookies and refraining from answering. He continues to sit and stare down into his mug of tea, nudging it one way, then bringing it right pack. Eventually, the frown deepens, and he breathes out heavily. "I'm..." Silence again, during which he winces - gathering the gumption to continue. It's barely a whisper when he manages to say it, and he's speaking purely to his tea: "Not g-good enough." It's hard to tell if Meara expected that answer, and if not, what she really thinks about it. Her expression hasn't changed: it's as kindly as ever, not quite grandmother-esque, but certainly in the same kind of family. "And why," she wonders, after several seconds of silence, "would you think a thing like that? Not good enough for Cailluneth? I think she'd argue that. Not good enough to be a rider? How can that be, if she chose you?" "N-no, ma'am," N'ky shakes his head, looking up as he does so. "I'm not g-good enough for you, or f-for Quinlys or for my b-best friend or for... f-for me." Double beat. "F-for what I want. Wh-what I want to b-be." He shrugs his shoulders, picking up his tea at last to sip unenthusiastically at it. "Cailluneth... she's e-everything. I w-want to be the b-best for h-her, but... b-but I s-stutter, and I'm f-f-failing my c-classes, and I--" The tea is set back down again, mug held in a vice-like grip. "I w-want to just give up. K'zin w-was right; I'm j-just a q-quitter and I'll n-never be a-anything." "Then be better." Meara's tone hasn't changed, except to become quieter, softer, and more sincere. "Because you can't give up; that isn't an option. When we're done here, I'm taking you and Cailluneth outside the bowl, and we're going flying. So you can wallow, and I can force you up there, bodily if needs be, or you can decide that you're going to be the best you can be, whatever that is, and we can move on. Because," she lifts her mug towards her mouth. "I think it's tragic that you can be good enough for Cailluneth, but not for yourself. And I happen to think you're wrong." "But... I w-wanted a silver thread. I w-wasn't good enough for one. It's the o-only time I've, um, wanted s-something like that and I c-couldn't do it f-for myself. I th-thought I c-could, b-but I couldn't, and n-now I know I'm j-just going to be... n-nothing. I'm not g-good enough to be wh-what I was h-hoping to be - a-and I'm not a v-very good example, either." Frustration furrows N'ky's brow, and a sigh leaves his shoulders slumped further. He skips the part about flying, most likely intentionally, and pulls his mug of tea in towards him to sip from it. "I would never have been chosen for a silver thread," says Meara, after a moment's hesitation. "Had such a thing existed when I was a weyrling. And yet..." Here she is. "Not being chosen doesn't make you nothing. It doesn't make you any less; it certainly doesn't decrease your potential. Quinlys told you she thought your ambition of becoming an assistant weyrlingmaster was a good one, and that hasn't changed. But if that's what you want, you need to work for it. You need to pass your exams. You need to prove to us not only that you want to lead people, but that you're capable of doing so. And to do that - you need to start leading yourself. A leader needs to believe in himself." N'ky chews on his lip as Meara talks, finally peering up at her from behind "S-someone told K'del w-wasn't chosen, either. N-not at first. But Quinlys w-wouldn't l-let me w-wear any sort of werylingm-master knot w-while I still s-speak like this." Again, a sip from the tea, and he leans back to hold it against his chest as he talks, looking everywhere but at the greenrider in front of him. "I'm n-not a leader. It was s-stupid of me to th-think I even could be o-one of your assistants." "He wasn't," confirms Meara. "And from what I understand, he worked his butt off trying to prove himself, afterwards. Come to mention it, Taikrin wasn't, either: she didn't know how to read, at first. The point is, N'ky," and now, she reaches for a cookie, holding it between weathered fingers a few inches from her face, "if you want something, you work for it. You don't give up at the first turn. Why do you think Quinlys would say she thought it was a good idea-- why would I say it was a good idea-- if it isn't a possibility? It wasn't stupid. It still isn't stupid." She pauses, and then sets the cookie down, reaching for a stack of papers beside her. One sheet gets slid across towards the weyrling. There, under a heading of Month Six Wingleaders is N'ky's name, alongside that of Dalla, one of Cirrus' weyrlings. And a question mark. "But Taikrin is a l-leader. Sh-she's... she's doing ok." He may not like her as a Weyrleader, but N'ky can at least acknowledge that much. The Weyr's still standing, at least! "M-maybe it was a p-possibility, be-before I sh-showed everyone how... h-how bad I am. It's emb-barrassing and I c-can't... I can't even th-think when I look at n-numbers anymore." The paper slid across to him is captured, drawn closer - and his face pales when he reads it. N'ky quickly pushes it back, shaking his head. "N-no. No, ma'am, I c-can't. I... g-give it to s-someone else. Um... K'zin. O-or Alida. They're... they'll be g-good leaders. Not me, W-Weyrlingmaster. I've n-not even flown y-yet, I c-can't." "You're going to fly today," says Meara, reclaiming the page, but not putting it away, just yet. "I think it would be good for you. I think it would be an opportunity for you to prove yourself: to show how good you are. It's got nothing to do with numbers, and nothing to do with flying. It has to do with you. But." She stops, pausing to break a piece off of her cookie, and dunk it into her tea. "I won't give it to you this month. But you will be getting it, sooner or later. Consider it advance warning, and incentive. You are going to lead Flurry, sooner or later, and it's up to you to prepare yourself so that you're ready to do it well." Not looking at all convinced, N'ky's expression remains clouded as he stares down into his tea. He squirms uncomfortably, chewing on his lip as he pulls himself together enough to ask what he wants to ask. "Weyrlingmaster Meara? Um... w-with respect, if... i-if it's nothing to do with n-numbers or f-flying, and all to do w-with how good I, or we," as in the weyrling collective, "are, then why am I, um, s-still h-having to learn m-maths?" Meara's dark eyes sweep over N'ky, thoughtful, and perhaps - just perhaps - very faintly amused. "I didn't say that those things aren't important," she says. "Because they are. You can't be wingleader if you're not in the air; that's certainly true." She pauses, chewing her cookie; swallowing. "We need our riders to have basic proficiency in a number of things, and maths is one of them. There are times when it comes in handy-- you'll learn more about those once we start talking about sweeps. There's a reason for everything, N'ky. Shall I arrange some one-on-one tutoring for you, for the numbers? I get the feeling that things would become much easier with remedials out of the way." N'ky's nose wrinkles, part amused, part frustrated. "F-flying makes sense. We're, um, d-dragonriders, after all." He shrugs, conceding to that point. "Um, s-some of the weyrlings h-have tried t-tutoring me, ma'am. I j-just... i-it's... hard. I don't...d-don't understand it; I c-can't r-remember what I'm, um, s-supposed to remember. And the s-same with, um, dates, too." Which a look at his remaining remedial lessons, maths and history, will confirm; for the latter at least, his lessons show he remembers what happened and where, just not the when; as for maths, anything beyond the very basics of addition, subtraction and multiplication, and he's completely lost. The weyrling squirms uncomfortably in his seat, scratching at his cheek, then running his fingers through his unruly curls. "I want to f-fly, ma'am, but... I'm s-scared of wh-what it'll do to Cailluneth, i-if... if it goes w-wrong. B-but I want to fly. I-if - um, when," he corrects himself quickly there, "you t-take me flying, c-could we... c-could we do it, um, a-away from the o-others? I d-don't want them to see." "I'd like to get you to work one-on-one with a Harper, someone with more experience than your classmates-- which isn't to say that I don't appreciate their efforts to help you." Meara lifts her hand to rub at her nose, using her palm, then drops it back towards her mug of tea, gaze trained upon N'ky. "It may be that they can come up with some way of helping you out. And, if not, well-- they'll be in the best position to help us decide an alternative." For flying, she has a tiny, twist of a smile. "We won't let Cailluneth be hurt, N'ky. We'll inspect your straps as close as we can, and then we'll be with you, the whole way. We'll go out past the stables, outside the Weyr. No one will see - no one but us. Now: can we do this? Are you going to work with me, so that we can get you back on track with your classmates?" "My own Harper?" N'ky blinks, seeming to like that idea. "C-could I... c-could I only do c-classes with them? N-not with the others?" Not that there're many weyrlings to share the classes with at this stage. He looks up briefly, his cheeks blushed rosy pink. "It's... i-it's embarrassing wh-when I keep g-getting things wrong in f-front of everybody. M-maybe it'll help if I, um, c-can do things on my own? I w-was trying, ma'am, u-until... um. I g-got upset o-over not getting a s-silver thread, a-and then... th-then K'zin said something th-that h-hurt me. And i-it made me... m-made me give up." His tea is sipped from, partially to be able to hide his grimace behind the mug. The next thing he says, though, has the look of malcontent disappearing, replaced by a smile that he's trying hard to keep under wraps, but that shows his bad suppressed excitement. "M-my own Harper would be like us g-going outside of the Weyr now, to f-fly." Meara seems abruptly pleased. "From next month," she says, "remedial classes won't be part of the regularly scheduled timetable, so those of you who haven't passed will need to be doing classes at other times. We'll just work out a schedule for you to have private tuition with someone-- I'll work it out." Of complications with K'zin, and everything else, she says nothing, but there's a slight nod of her head all the same. "I think that means we have a plan, don't you? A private flying lesson first, and later, private harper classes. And in a month or two, we'll see where you are. Are we agreed?" There's relief as much as thankfulness on N'ky's face as he nods eagerly at the tuition resolution. "I'd like that a l-lot." It's probably the most enthusiastic he's been for anything in a long time; certainly the peppiest he's been since coming into the Weyrlingmasters' office. He leans back in his chair, looking more relaxed with the half-smile tweaking at a corner of his mouth, creating a hint of a dimple. "Wh-when I'm ready, ma'am, I w-want to be a g-good wingleader... but I n-need to be r-ready, first. I'm n-not ready now, not yet. M-maybe in two m-months." A thoughtful beat; "C-can I come to you, when I, um, f-feel like I'm ready? I p-promise I will c-come to you; I'll do e-everything I can to be sure I'm w-worth it." When Meara smiles the way she does now, she looks an awful lot younger than her sixty-something turns: like a naughty schoolgirl, maybe, irrepressible and delighted. She considers N'ky's words for several seconds, and then, abruptly, shakes her head. "We're getting towards the end of the month," she says. "I've agreed that we won't make you Wingleader for this next coming month - month five. After that, however, I can't make any promises. You have at least a month to get yourself prepared. It may be two months. It may be three. But I can't promise anything more than that, so it's up to you to make sure you prepare yourself." With his negotiation turned down, N'ky wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. "A month." It sounds both awfully long and horribly short when he says it, and he doesn't sound completely convinced that it's going to be enough. But, as he leans forward to finally snag a cookie, he gives Meara a pursed-lipped nod. "I-I'll try my b-best." He bites into the cookie, taking nearly half of it in that one go, barely giving time to taste, let alone chew, before he swallows it down with a mouthful of tea. "I know you will," says Meara, with an encouraging smile. "I've got faith in you, N'ky. If I didn't, your name wouldn't be coming up for this at all. Now-- once you've finished that cookie, shall we go and try this flying thing? The others won't even see that we're gone, if we get out there soon." The cookie disappears damned quick, excitement over flying having finally caught up to N'ky. He swallows it down, finishes his tea, and then sits, muscles coiled and ready to spring up when told it's time to go. And all the while, the smile he's been trying to hold back just keeps growing and growing, until he can't - an doesn't bother - to hide it any more. "Can we, um, g-go to the Star Stones? C-can we go to the Star Stones on our own, l-later?" That would be the Cailluneth and I sort of we. "W-we... we'd like to see the moons. From up there. The v-view would be... a-amazing." This is the kind of reaction Meara has clearly been hoping for; she's pleased and pleased and pleased, and if her aging body isn't quite as quick up off her chair as she might like it to be, well, that's just the way these things go. "We can certainly do that together, now, yes. On your own... Let's see how you go, first. But as long as you let Isath supervise you from afar-- we'll see. Now--" And off she'll lead him, carrying them both on Isath as far as the meadow outside the Weyr, where Cailluneth can join them. First flights ensue. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:The Inevitable Talk"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 01 May 2013 23:41:17 GMT.
Wow. Nevermind Isath, Meara's still got it! Best Weyrlingmaster ever. It's great to see how her experience comes in handy, and it's wonderful to see N'ky enthused about something. Meara may be old, but still damn good at her job. XD
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 02 May 2013 01:00:46 GMT.
Way to go, Meara and N'ky! WOOT!
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