Logs:This is how mentoring is supposed to go, right?
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| RL Date: 4 February, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, K'zin, Lythronath, Rasavyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin attempts to fulfill his punishment for attending Elaruth's flight. But boneheaded bronzeriders (plural) are boneheaded. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 12, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: C'wlin/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, N'hax/Mentions, N'rad/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there. What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable.
A'rist has not been a stranger to getting notes requesting meetings, of late. Memories of the last one have him prepared when he enters, looking quite serious, fingers ticking off various points against his thigh as he walks. Of course, all that stops when he comes upon a stray feather in the corner of the barracks; bends, picks it up, smirks a little. It's still between his thumb and finger by the time he's made his way to K'zin, who gets greeted by cant of head, and "Wingrider?" The man's fingers linger on the little wisps a moment or two longer before he turns away from the table and toward the weyrling bronzerider. "A'rist," the wingrider assumes as he crosses and offers his hand, "K'zin. Rasavyth's." Which the note indicated, but sometimes it's nice to actually introduce oneself. It sets a tone. "I'm supposed to meet with you, and offer you all the wisdom of the do's and do not's of being a bronzerider that I've pre-tested for your benefit." Okay, that last part is probably not entirely true, but K'zin's grin is lopsided and friendly, so it's probably meant as at least partially a joke. A'rist's lips press together, his eyes narrow faintly... but his uncertainty about K'zin's stated purpose is, for this moment, kept to himself. A glance is sent back to the entrance of the barracks, where Lythronath is notably not, before he pulls himself a chair and sits. The bit of feather is rested delicately on the table before him, his fingertips brought to rest beside it. "Okay." With his hand awkwardly hanging, untaken, K'zin's brows furrow and he lets it fall to his side. "You don't have to like it, I guess," is his apparent interpretation as he takes a seat, "Guess I can see how you wouldn't, seeing as it's my punishment." He shrugs his shoulders though, because just because it's his doesn't mean either of them really get a choice with it. "So. How's senior weyrlinghood going for you?" Maybe he's trying to start again, a little less lightness this time. "Oh." Something in that seems almost a comfort to the younger bronzerider, though his hands still stay stationary next to that feather. He doesn't smile, exactly; it's more a drop in his overall wariness. "Because of getting into that closed flight. I heard about that one." And now, A'rist shrugs, and reaches one fingertip, cautiously, to change the angle of that feather bit. "Not bad, I guess." "Yeah, that." K'zin agrees on the cause. "That one is on the 'do not' list. If you were taking notes," His eyes flick briefly to the feather, as if expecting it to be a fancy writing implement, "You might want to star that one and circle it a few times. They take it kind of seriously. Not as seriously as breaking into a major Hold and beating up the prisoners they're keeping, but close. Not that I actually tried out that other one personally, but other bronzeriders have. Not recommended." He reiterates the important point of the story which was surely on Quinlys' list of 'Don't Tell Him That.' "Having any trouble with anything or any concerns about graduating or anything? Anything I can actually try to help with?" He sounds sincere, though not exactly pushy, just sort of casting the wide net to see what can be caught. A'rist takes his fingers away from the feather, in favour this time of folding his hands in his lap. "I think I knew about that already." A bit of a flush to his cheeks, and he adds a careful, "Sir," that - he can tell, look at his face - doesn't really seem to make it better. The question brings a bit of a shrug, and a shake of his head. "I don't think we're going to have problems graduating. Lythronath's good, when he's aimed right. And it's- we- well, we've got it mostly figured out. Anyway, he's not like any other dragons, I don't think you could help me any with him or anything." One of those hands comes up to wave off the idea. Maybe also the little bit of a ramble that went with it. "You really can call me K'zin. It's not like I'm that much older than you are, and I'm just a wingrider, which, really, you're about to be in just a couple months." The just-barely-not-a-teenager-himself bronzerider answers this point first. "From what I hear, he's not like my dragon. But my dragon is also not like any other dragon. And sometimes-- I don't know, it helped sometimes to at least talk to someone who understood what that much was like even if all the particulars of the situation were different. But really, you don't have to have anything I can help with. It just means I have to find a way to fill the time we're to spend together," Mandatory style, "In a way that hopefully won't bore you. Are you feeling pretty good about joining a wing?" Beat. "I heard he doesn't get along with blues so well. Think that might cause issues if you end up in a wing that's primarily chromatics?" More net casting without particular aim. "I don't know how come you all think it's so hard all the time," comes a bit bluntly, certainly moodily. A'rist doesn't seem aware of at least one of those aspects. Any colourful metaphors are left unsaid, though he does press back in his chair a little bit. And even slouch a bit at the mention of blues. "Look, it's not that he doesn't get along with them. I mean, he doesn't go out of his way to try and rough them up or anything. And he does great with greens. I'm sure he'll be fine." Coming down off that (second) rant, the younger of the riders sits a bit straighter once more, and repeats, if with a touch of righteous indignation, "Aimed." "'You all'?" is the first question, with raised brows. "For the record, it's just me. I'm not sure if reminding you that this is a punishment for me, and I was just trying to make the best of it helps. In general, I like people, and--" Whatever K'zin was going to say next is dropped as he bites a lower lip and shrugs. "It was just a question." About the blues. "Like I said, trying to make the best of things. If you want to make it seem like I'm singling you out over something, that's your prerogative. But I'm not. Just me. Fulfilling my punishment by trying to make sure you and your bronze classmate don't fuck up like I did." He's not heated, if anything, he's a little dismissive about it all. Lead a runner to water, but can't make him drink. "It's not just you," A'rist corrects him, a fact more than either apology or acceptance of the other bronzerider's statement. He does, at least, seem to earnestly try and push the defensiveness aside, or at the very least, the facial expression that goes with it. K'zin is watched for a good moment, with that more neutral expression, before the younger rider finds the need to ask, "So why did you try at a foreign leadership flight?" "This is just me." K'zin disagrees, "I don't know who else you might mean or what else is going on with your life, because, well, you know, we just met. But this is just me. And like I said, we don't actually have to talk about you at all if you don't want," He hadn't actually said, "But I'm here and I have to tell you things anyway. Not that I have a hard and fast list since the punishment isn't a hard and fast 'sign here to say I really saw you today' kind of thing." The bronzerider might briefly contemplate the loopholes that creates, but then he's shaking his head. "Accident. I had a--" There's a brief hesitation, "A family emergency, I guess you could call it, and had to go to Fort. Then Ras was blooding and ... are you weyrbred?" The question interrupts the story. He probably should know already, but... A'rist's neutrality starts to tilt a little toward skepticism. He offers no argument - no verbal argument, at least - for the 'just K'zin' side of things. For the details of this 'punishment' of the other bronzerider's. A'rist really doesn't say much of anything. But he does answer, when questioned directly, "No. But I've lived here for a while." About the same time, there's a shadow at the entrance of the barracks. A shadow, with teeth. "Then you know how senior golds rising can feel? Or maybe you don't. I hear some people don't feel it. But with a dragon, especially a male dragon with interest in golds, it-" K'zin frowns, "It wasn't possible for me to call him off once it started. Not even after Weyrwoman Hattie decked me." The shadow does not go unobserved, but not by K'zin. No, the slender bronze settled in the bowl near the barracks is the one doing the watching, but no sound nor motion is made toward the toothy shadow. A'rist's face turns a little redder; that's the only affirmation for gold flights and what those do. Can do. Could've done. "So your punishment is to come and explain how it wasn't your fault that you screwed up, but how we shouldn't do it anyway." Maybe it's that shadow that's made him bolder. Although really, that shadow is mostly only offering up helpful tidbits like, 'little' and 'hahahaha feather' right now. But how is K'zin to know all that? "No, my punishment is to come and explain to you how you should not be a jackass. But it seems like I've got my work cut out for me if I'm to be successful." K'zin may be a complete pushover where his dragon is concerned, but other men? Not so much. "You do know you sound like a snotty brat half your age right now, right?" The look the older bronzerider gives him has raised brows. "I mean, I'd heard you were a cool guy, good heart and all that crap, but maybe you just have them all fooled." Brown eyes proceed to study the teen. "I guess I'm just having trouble seeing the lesson here," A'rist answers tersely, but not without a hint of smugness behind it. His hands move back to the table, but now he isn't taking his eyes off of K'zin. Not even to play with that feather, some of the last dwindling evidence of Lythronath's early months. Because that big bronze head poking in surely isn't evidence. "You know how they have examples of what to do and what not to do? I'm the what not to do, dumbass." That's probably not the right thing to say to someone you're supposed to be mentoring, but hey, K'zin is new at this. And he is the what not to do example after all. "But, tell you what, I'll be more than glad to go back to Quinlys and tell her that you think you're already too good to learn anything from someone who was roughly in your position a little less than two turns ago. Glad to know you have everything all figured out. Load off of my mind." Sarcasm, it's there and it's obvious as K'zin gets to his feet. "Clearly, you've got your shit together. And have from the start. Since your dragon only injured two other dragons in his first mating flight. Cheers for that, A'rist." A'rist grinds his teeth a little bit, but doesn't interrupt the older bronzerider. He stares at him, stares hard, stares more the way that Lythronath stares at herdbeasts, or really, really annoying blues than the way even one man looks to another with whom he's vying. There's hesitation, a war of two sides. Finally, what comes out is the more defiant. "And you think you know what my 'position' is because of stuff you've heard about me, and heard about my dragon, and heard about what goes on." "No." K'zin might as well have added a 'pfft' like A'rist's the idiot in this scenario. "Your position, as I mean it, is that you're a weyrling Impressed to bronze, months away from joining a real wing and not having any weyrlingmasters to turn to when shit goes upside down. Do you think they assign you mentors for fun? Do you think Weyrleader K'del asked me to mentor you and your classmate for shits and giggles? So we can braid each other's hair? Right now, you have a wing you have something in common with. You all Impressed together. In a few months, you're on your own. But if you want to be so self-centered that you think I'm trying to get inside your head and help with your obvious issues of self-consciousness and egocentrism, then it seems like you're right on track to being in my position in a turn or two. Enjoy mentoring the jackasses that think they know what's what. I'm sure it'll be as much fun for you as it's proving to be for me." "No," A'rist answers right after that hair braiding comment. He waits, he bides his time, and once K'zin seems to be finished, or at least to have reached some sort of natural break, he pulls back to that first question: "I think K'del put us together because you flew a closed flight." With some pride, now, "Lythronath and I make mistakes, and then we learn from them. There's never been lots of other people involved. Even the weyrlingmasters." The rider shrugs. While the dragon turns from eyeing up a (as of yet unbroken) cot, in favour of eyeing up K'zin. K'zin is (probably unwisely) unconcerned by Lythronath's attention, his arms folding across his chest. "Yeah, you know, I always heard that Weyrleaders were short-sighted and don't have good reasons for the things they do. I'm sure it had nothing to do with thinking you'd benefit from it. It's all about me." Obviously. He rolls his eyes at the younger man. "Whatever. You're an idiot." And that seems to be it. If A'rist's goal was to get out of being mentored... well, maybe it's worked? K'zin's heading for the bowl at any rate. "Yeah, obviously," is all A'rist has to say to the departing rider, teen attitude plenty present in that. Lythronath is still in that entryway, one back paw scraping claw marks across the ground. He doesn't look away from the exiting K'zin, even when A'rist plucks the feather from the table. |
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