Logs:Uncle Wroth's Life Lessons
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| RL Date: 30 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, E'dre, Taeliyth, Wroth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dee seeks guidance from E'dre, and Wroth imparts useful age-appropriate knowledge to Taeliyth. |
| Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ebeny/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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>---< Lake Shore, Fort Weyr >------------------------------------------------< The lake's shore is a broad crescent of golden-hued sand, stretching from the southwest wall near the feeding grounds and around to the southeast where the sand gives way to soil and leaf detritus from a cluster of hardy mountain trees. Where the lake deepens, clear blue water darkens to murky teal, hiding stony depths. Dragons often sun here and riders use the lake for dragonwashing in the warmer seasons, while all of the Weyr's denizens may enjoy walks and picnics among the large, smooth boulders that interrupt the smooth flow of sand. Many of the Weyr's children also play at skipping stones with the wide variety of rocks available along the water's edge. Taeliyth stands apart from her rider on the shore of the lake. It's more than just the physical distance that some new weyrlings will allow their small dragons to do some individual exploration. The gold is blatantly ignoring her rider's existence, and Dee is looking awkward for it. Her mittened hands are folded in front of her, her eyes following the gold from behind the drawn up green scarf around her neck. Taeliyth's wheaten muzzle lifts into the air, intelligent gaze sweeping as she turns her nose toward the-- "Herb Garden," the girl supplies. The gold glances briefly at her and then moves toward it. "Don't-" Dee's word prompts a look colder than the afternoon from her lifemate that silence her. Dragons and their riders are a constant stream around the Weyr so it may come as no surprise that Wroth descends from the skies and lands up the bank from the Dee and Taeliyth. The surprise may come in the fact that the brown narrows his attention on the little queen and ambles down through the snow to get a closer look at her. He's not overly large for a brown and he certainly isn't a 'classical' beauty of any sort. His voice is a sharp-edged crackle of electricity, like a thunderstorm waiting to strike over a dry, desert-landscape. « Do you already enjoy making yours suffer? » E'dre isn't far behind the brown though his approach is towards Dee. "What brings you two down here?" He glances around to see if he finds any other weyrlings. "Are there a pack of you ready to descend upon me?" « Why? Do you? » Taeliyth's mind in the first moment of contact is entertaining some complex illusion, a flower that's being drawn petal by petal into life. It's probably less an actual flower and more the drawing together of information into some usable whole picture, but some thoughts are best expressed in metaphor. As she speaks, the flower petals fall, as if she lacks the focus to do both the exercise and the conversation at once. There's a brief flicker of annoyance before she's turning more fully to consider the brown and his crackle. "She wanted to see more of the Weyr, sir," Dee offers the Weyrsecond respectfully. In fact, she seems a touch relieved by his presence, a obvious buffer between herself and the tiny gold. "She's not as small as the greens, so I can't carry her as far as their lifemates do. She thinks she's falling behind getting only secondhand information." Even at her young age and small stature, Taeliyth has feet in height and length on her smaller sisters. Wroth's laughter is laced with wickedness, that crackle of electricity snapping forward in his mirth. « Of course. Since the very first day I hatched. I can show you » E'dre must have a sense for his dragon's conversation as he narrows a glare on the brown. "Don't start with your bad habits," he warns the brown, "or I'll let Lilah sick Eliyaveith on you." E'dre returns his focus on the weyrling pair in front of him. "There are a few bronzes in your mix. Have her go out with them. I'm certain not all their riders are carrying them all over. I refused to carry Wroth when he was young." He shrugs, looking at Taeliyth with a nod. "She's grown already it seems." He looks back to Dee, "Are you settling in okay to your new quarters? Is the staff treating you well?" He has a lot of pointed questions and if there was a clipboard in his hand perhaps he'd be scribbling notes. He is being as professional and polite as possible. « Show me, » is as much bossy demand as expectation. He shouldn't have offered if he weren't willing though. « Eliyaveith never needs to know, » is offered innocently; Taeliyth knows how to keep a secret. "There are," Dee acknowledges with an awkward sort of pose, her arms hugging around her chest briefly before they fall to her sides as she shrugs. "I don't mind going with her, I just can't carry her for long, so we can't go as far, in case she gets tired." Concern puckers the skin between the brunette's brows as they dip. "The staff is being very helpful. Or trying to be. They're doing their best. I--" She stops, sucking her lower lip into her mouth to bite it a moment before looking at the Weyrsecond. "I can trust you, can't I, sir?" This gets a sharp look from her dragon, but at least no active interference. Yet. Wroth is feeling indulgent enough to humor the young gold. « Secrets can be fun » He draws in all of that electricity he'd been tickling at her mind with and empties the space between them to a somber fog. Her flowers may draw in the space if she is so inclined. « Watch » the brown nudges to get Taelityh's focus. The timing of his attack on E'dre is well placed. E'dre is instantly distracted by Dee's question and on alert to her, he doesn't feel the buildup of his dragon's focus. "I believe you can trust me. I can keep whate--" he doesn't finish that sentence as he grabs his head and doubles over. Wroth shows Taelityh this "attack": all his mental focus is settled on his rider and he lets loose a loud boom of thunder. "Wroth!" E'dre groans and clamps his hands further on his head. Only when the brown is satisfied does he relent and E'dre, panting and teary-eyed can straighten. Taeliyth watches, oh yes. Up close and personal this time, seeking closeness with Wroth's electric mind the moment after he has unleashed his attack that she may better understand its results. In the closeness she seeks, the scent of her might be caught: a feminine, earthy something that is yet otherwise undefined. « Fascinating, » she decides with a markedly wicked complimentary tone. « That seems useful. I suppose its use is limited to one's own rider? » She glances toward Dee contemplatively as the girl steps forward to reach an instinctive hand toward E'dre's shoulder as if she could somehow help whatever is happening. Taeliyth certainly hasn't shared. "E'dre--" is concerned, broken off because what can she do? "Sir? Are you--? Should I get someone?" She didn't choose healercraft after all. Wroth shouldn't (but he does) glow with pride at the scene he's created in front of them. He whuffs in Taeliyth's direction with a swing of his snout, as if he could get a better sense of her 'smell' that way. « I have never tried it on another » Wroth is musing in this, leaning into her as he lets the pitter-patter of raindrops begin to fall between them as he thinks. « You could probably do it to others because you are gold. If you practice. » Not the best advice of an older dragon to a younger, yet it's advice nonetheless! E'dre scrubs at his eyes repeatedly and takes deep breaths as he tries to clear his mind. "No, don't. He used to do it more. He's showing off," E'dre manages to sound normal in that delivery. He keeps his thumb pressed into his temple as he squints at her. "What were you going to tell me?" he prompts. Physically, she smells like a baby. Like a baby who gets oiled often and who eats a lot and-- does other things a lot. It's the nature of babies. Taeliyth's mental scent recedes along with the distance she seeks to put between them - not a fearful thing, just the natural return to her casual mental distance as if she'd leaned in close and is simply straightening. One tendril of vine creeps back toward him to seek the rain thoughtfully; it's not really a withdrawal from his lean, see? The vine might even be a kind of invitation. « I may yet, » is serious consideration of the advice without commitment. "Oh," is both surprised acknowledgement of the words about his dragon and embarrassment, Dee's gaze uneasily sliding toward her lifemate. "What... did he do?" She has to ask the brownrider because no answer must be forthcoming from Taeliyth. Her glance down to her messy boots and then the lift of a hand to pull her green scarf away from her earnest expression is telling of her discomfort. She confesses quietly, "I don't think I'm going to be a good goldrider." It's a sentiment that Taeliyth seems in no way prepared to dispute (and that probably doesn't help matters). "I'm not a good Weyrsecond," E'dre confesses back and without a second thought, a shared bluntness and forthcoming in his response. "Not compared to some others. The records? Whew, you'd think my predecessors didn't breathe out of place." He manages this lightness as the tension slowly ebbs from him as he shakes off the residual effects of Wroth's mental blast. "Wroth, now, he's a bastard," E'dre says with some asperity, "Fresh out of the egg. He was like that. He was worse when he was younger. I think I spent a bulk of my weyrlinghood with a headache. He hated it when I made dresses." He levels a glare at the brown who seems to be respecting the younger gold's desire for space as he lounges to the side of her. Wroth twists his head in E'dre's direction and cocks his head to the left in a 'so what'? gesture. « You'll find ways to keep yours in line. Laurienth is just as mean as I am to her rider. No sense in coddling them. » Such grand advice for the little queen! Dee's lashes flutter in surprise at the returned sentiment. "So we'll ruin the Weyr together?" She asks, only slightly horrified, humor somehow lacing itself into her tone. (If you don't laugh, you might cry?) She looks to the brown and then back to his lifemate. "Why should he hate your making dresses?" Then a sidelong look toward her lifemate has her adding, "So... she won't grow out of--" A flick of Taeliyth's tail and the way her eyes swirl more alive with her anger silences Dee into just swallowing and looking at the brownrider. "Have you ever... let down people who depend on you?" She phrases the question with obvious care, stress showing in her expression. « Is she? » is curious. « What does Laurienth do? » Presumably to her rider, but the question might be left broad on purpose to invite Wroth's own interpretation. "For as long as I have my knot," E'dre replies blandly, smiling despite the flippancy of his words. The headache he was sporting has ebbed enough he can return to the easy attitude he held when he first approached Dee. "Let people down?" he plucks at his lower lip with a thumb and forefinger. "Certainly. I'm from High Reaches, and before I left there... I let down the Weyrleader and he forced me to be a weyrling again." He scrubs at the back of his neck and shrugs, a more wolfish grin surfacing as he looks sidelong at Dee. "Here? Politics have never been my strong suit. I've made Hattie and N'muir angry for it many times. But see? They've tolerated me. Some people like me." The 'who' of that he doesn't elaborate on. "Working hard is my strong suit." Wroth doesn't answer Taeliyth right away. Instead, he toys with a ball of static, tossing it back and forth like a feline playing with a ball of yarn. « Oh, that you'll have to find out on your own. I cannot share her secrets. » Tap, tap, tap and then he noses that static ball towards her. The teenager listens, her mittened hands pressing together in front of her and coming apart before doing it again, perhaps trying to match the knits of one with the knits of the other in anxious fidget. "Did you ever-- with those people-- break their trust? Is-- can you rebuild it?" Dee's hazel eyes have settled on his knot as somewhere safe to focus, her expression a mask of uncertainty and worry. She does manage a little smile for E'dre, and murmurs, "I work hard," too, as a point of overlap. If there's hope for him, perhaps for her as well. Taeliyth's attention flicks following at once the ball of static and the dragon that plays with it. It's hard to say how much she's able to take in of the dual focus, but it doesn't outwardly seem like she misses so much, even being so young as she is. Still, perhaps she's just good at hiding what she does miss. « I'm very good with secrets, » the gold tries, sweetly. He could tell her, if he liked, though it doesn't (yet) seem like pressure to do so, just more invitation. E'dre must sense that these questions have more meaning than the rhetorical as he listens and a tiny crease begins to form between his brow. He doesn't answer right away as he plucks his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger again. "I've done things that I shouldn't have," he says, lifting his gaze to catch hers. "But the only way I ever was able to repair that trust was to first own up to what I had done wrong. And then, when I'd told the right person, they helped me navigate the trouble I had caused." He rubs at the back of his neck briefly with a shrug. "Mostly, I haven't handled Holder relations well. But I finally started to listen when I was asked to change. And so I have. In a way." Whether or not this tactic of a confession to past transgressions is the right angle with a weyrling doesn't seem to make E'dre stop and consider his words. Wroth doesn't seem to press Taeliyth's focus as he continues to toy with the static. This game he has only played with a handful of others. He must enjoy her, for her sweetly delivered statement has him trying out her proclamation that she can keep a secret. « My rider sleeps in the nude and sometimes he sleep walks. Once he went into the barracks and.. well... » he lets that point drift away as he laughs in a thunderous uproar. Dee's expression falls, briefly, when he explains about fessing up. Her face is quickly buried in her scarf, one mittened hand drawing it up again. "I'm not sure I'll handle Hold relations well, either," she latches onto this as the safe subject. "I've never really been in a Hold. I mean, trips to some for the craft, but only then on business and being an apprentice I was always busy and not in a position to offend anyone that matters." She bites her lower lip, "I'm not sure I can change some things. Not that I wouldn't want to do what people wanted me to do or be who people want me to be, but... " She trails off, visible expression confused. « Does he? » is interested, amused from the young gold. « Were there weyrlings then to scandalize? » Taeliyth wants to know. « Is that sort of thing a scandal? Dee says bodies don't matter much in the Weyr she grew up in. » Dee isn't from Fort though, so Wroth must know better through E'dre. E'dre shrugs his shoulders and ruffles his fingers through his hair briefly as he turns to consider his brown beside her much smaller gold. "You can't always do or be what people want. Sometimes you have to be you, simply for you." He shakes his head and reaches over to give her an awkward pat on the shoulder. "You've got some time yet before any of this should concern you. Learn to be Taeliyth's partner and learn what is expected of you here at the Weyr. Everything else will come together in time." That seems to be all the wisdom E'dre is ready to impart as he jerks his chin towards the left. "Wroth? Stop teaching the young queen your habits. We've things to do." He offers Dee a small smile, "Don't hesitate to find someone to talk to if you have conerns again," he tells her, pauses, and widens his smile. "If you think I'd be of help, I guess you can ask me too. Though Hattie would be best to share your fears with. She is a very good person to help you navigate the Holds." Wroth doesn't seem like he will elaborate on those queries as he rises from his slouch near the gold. Finally, he shares as they begin to lumber away from the pair: « It could be, if we wanted it to be one. » He leaves that there and closes off his mind to her as he wanders away. |
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