Logs:Wingleader and One-Day Weyrwoman
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| RL Date: 11 September, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, X'vin, Besmernyth, Taeliyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: X'vin has advice for his one-day Weyrwoman. |
| Where: Junior Ledges and Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Elise/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Ka'ge/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, N'jem/Mentions, Zennia/Mentions |
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>---< Junior Ledges, Fort Weyr >---------------------------------------------< A flight of stairs leads up to a low-lying ledge that periodically catches the shadow of the higher Weyrleader's complex ledge, though the location is ideal and gives a good view of the Bowl as a whole. This outcropping is longer than it is wide, bubbling into two distinct ledges that allow access to two service caves that have been set aside for the use of the junior goldriders. There's a small window every morning that the weyrlings have between their expected early morning tasks of dragon feeding and physical training and the beginning of their air and ground drills. It's the designated 'breakfast' hour, only one goldriding weyrling has no food in evidence. Instead, she's kneeling on the junior ledges where the service caverns are located with a disassembled flamethrower in front of her. She goes through the motions that, by now, are well-learned for assembling and then disassembles and does it all over again. She must have it down by now as there's no evidence of mistakes, but she repeats and repeats, when she should be eating. The fact that this isn't the only self-care that's getting skimped on holds evidence in the slight darkness under her eyes that hints at not enough sleep for Dee in recent days, something that may be worrisome given that betweening is soon to begin for the weyrlings. There are hundreds of stable scheduling regularities that keep the weyr functioning in a timely manner. The weyrlings are certainly one, and when they scurry off to drills at the end of breakfast hour, plenty other cogs in the system take notice and adapt based on the timing. Flint is an irregularity in this, and nobody will set their schedules by them; even now, a greenrider with Flint patches is kitting up her dragon in preparation to go somewhere. One rider does not a wing make, but there are two -- X'vin, has been watching his rider with a keen eye while she prepares, and it's not until she lofts up and disappears that he turns to leave. He takes a quick survey of the bowl with the perfunctory interest that suggests he doesn't expect to find anything interesting, but he notices Dee. Stops. Stands there with his hands slipping into his pockets, watching her with unabashed interest. The repetitions continue until Taeliyth emerges from the weyr with a disapproving snort for her rider. "I will," is Dee's answer in the tone known to teenagers the world over as what you say to your mother when you're not even listening to the nag. It makes Taeliyth move farther onto her ledge and crane her neck down toward where Dee works. "I had toast," Dee protests then, which doesn't fool the dragon in the least. So the final repetition is completed with expediency and the flamethrower brought down the stairs to the bowl where Taeliyth's small glide has her landing so the gear can be secured carefully to the gold's straps. Maybe Flint really doesn't have a schedule, then, if X'vin can watch the interactions a short distance away and wait it out, his head tilting while he pieces it all together, his mouth twitching into a smile. "Someone sold the caverns a whole mess of berries from before the rains. They made them into muffins, and the weyr got more than it's fair ten percent." It's all fairly matter-of-fact, volunteered information as he tips a salute not to Dee but to her lifemate. "Good morning, Taeliyth. Dee. If you hurry, you might still manage to get one of them, before they're snatched up; I hear they're going to try and preserve them for special events." Once the flamethrower is securely stowed, Dee starts her trek toward the living cavern, only to stop short at the sound of X'vin's voice. She has a crisp salute for him, "Wingleader," if also a trace of blush probably for the last time they met in this bowl under very different circumstances. Taeliyth's eyes settle on the man thoughtfully a moment before she casts a look about and then tilts her head inquisitively as she pointedly looks back at the bronzerider: where is Besmernyth? Dee doesn't ask for her, if X'vin is smart enough to figure out the question he can answer the gold directly. "Thank you," is awkwardly polite. "That sounds lovely," because who doesn't like berries or berries in muffins? Not Dee. She glances toward the living cavern. "Have you time to walk with me?" She stutters over the first word as if she hadn't wholly decided to ask the question when she opened her mouth, but the question is there now so that's that. No take-backsies! For all his informality, X'vin can spare a salute for Fort's weyrling goldrider, and a smile to boot. "Weyrling," is slightly more rote than the apologetic way he tells Taeliyth, "I'm not his keeper. Ask after him, if you want him." He asides in a stage whisper for Dee, "Besmernyth's a bit out of sorts after Roszadyth's flight. I think he rather liked her." He answers her request for company with a laughed, "Of course," as he falls into step the direction of the caverns with a guiding tilt of the head. An observation is inevitable; X'vin does not exist in silence. "You're still so stiff. We're not on business Dee. It's breakfast. You can shake it out of your shoulders." He's looking sidelong at her, enough to evaluate her critically before, "All the stress, the work, trying to be politically correct. You'll lose sleep if you're not careful." Taeliyth makes an amused, disbelieving sound to X'vin's answer. It's not, however, until the bronze's unusual mood is noted upon that the gold's mind reaches for the bronze. It's not an invasive greeting, but a sense of watching coming nearer until she's basically at his doorstep, the smallest tickle of wind serving as a knock. "Just-- trying to do the right thing," comes Dee's answer to the observation of her stiffness after a slightly lifted brow for the state of the bronze. "I'm sorry, about that last time, in the bowl, I was-- out of sorts." She chooses his words to describe her state. "And everything seems like business. The other weyrlings can fly to some of the Holds without escort, visit, have a measure of freedom. I can, too, of course, but when I do, I have to remember all the things. Etiquette, relations, what not to say about my Weyr, myself, my leaders, and worry about what it says that I chose to visit Fort Sea instead of Fort Hold, or--" She gives up the explanation with a frustrated sound. "Business and breakfast, seems too many times like all the same thing," with effort, she uses, "X'vin," instead of 'sir.' "Everyone's trying to do the right thing," X'vin says, sparing Taeliyth only a sidelong look for her snort. His attention falls firmly on Dee after that. "You can't do anything but what you think is right, not just you, the royal you. Sometimes," he has a weighty sigh, "it's just misguided. You don't owe me an apology. I only wish I could have helped you more. I'm not terribly good with tears." It's almost certain at this point she's noticed that, but he does always have that handkerchief ready for flourishing, which must have gotten him through rough times with women. You have to take precautions when you're making them cry. He listens to her with a measure of attentiveness, though his eyes go to the sky while he digests it all. "You choose to visit Fort Sea instead of Fort because it's bordered by water, and at lower risk of landslides." Logical. He sounds sympathetic when he continues, "I know it's not easy, coming to terms with the fact that you're not just another weyrling, and it's not fair you should never be able to shut down. Even Hattie gets to take her knot off at night and be with her children, if she wants." That she often doesn't is another matter. "Have you been home, since you Impressed?" There is nothing there at first: neutral weather, no flutters of snow or chill breezes. No dogs. Just one raven with tumorous growths and no eyes, ostensibly on lookout for all it is blind. It echoes her knock -- a loud, resonant clacking of the beak in the exact same cadence. But there is warmth, when he comes to himself, though no indication of where he is. « Taeliyth. » Not warm, and muffled below a crawling mist. (To Taeliyth from Besmernyth) "I shouldn't have been crying to begin with," Dee sighs that much that signifies forgiveness for any lack of helpfulness that might've been perceived. "I do visit Fort Sea because it's bordered by water. Mostly, farther away from the actual Hold so I don't cause a stir. So I don't have to mind all the things, for just a little while, but it's a lonely thing." She shrugs, perhaps she thinks loneliness is part of the lot in life for weyrwomen. "I haven't been home. That's more complicated than anywhere, for so many reasons. My parents, weyrwomen that used to be weyrwomen here who I've never properly met, that it's a Weyr at all and one we have not insignificant relations with." She pushes a hand through her short-cropped hair. "Do you take off your knot at night? Your wing doesn't seem to keep traditional hours," she's noticed which at least marks her as observant, for better or worse. « Shall I bring you breakfast to put your sorts back in order? » Taeliyth's wry greeting holds a sense of warmth, a desire to provide comfort and cheer to the bronze, and if the desire holds doubts about whether or not she should be doing so... well, that's more of a private battle for Taeliyth to wage with herself. (To Besmernyth from Taeliyth) "You've got that pretty face and those naive eyes," X'vin muses, making a sound of mild annoyance, "but you won't convince me you're as big a fool as all that. If you're to be senior, you'll need to learn to balance your emotions, not pretend you aren't entitled to them." His understanding of the situation is perfectly clear; her rise beyond Hattie as senior is inevitable, with circumstances laid out in a row. "Is this your new tack? Do you just close off, run away from the things that might be hard for you to cope with? It's no wonder Taeliyth gave you a hard time. You should go home. Or somewhere you want to be. Somewhere that makes you feel connected to anything more than here before your weyr and duties become a prison. You can be forgiven, yet; you're still learning." The corner of X'vin's permasmile twitches. "If you ask some people, I don't wear it even when it's on. I don't want to lord over my riders anymore than I must. They appreciate it. Their jobs get done; my wing stays happy." « What sorts do you mean, little one? » Besmernyth wants to know, for all she's no longer tiny, and it's clear suddenly the mist is a sleepiness, rolling fog that brings with it waves of consciousness. Just enough awareness to wonder, with cracking pleasure as a stream flash-freezes, « Would you go out of your way and do that, for me, if my sorts were out? » (To Taeliyth from Besmernyth) Dee misses a step when X'vin challenges her. Blinking, she turns her head enough to see him more clearly as her movements continue toward the cavern. "No," is not only the knee-jerk reaction, but one supported by an audible resolve, "it's just that-" comes the excuse, "-I'm dealing with a lot of things that are hard for me to cope with, not the least of which is trying to let go of my home as my home and make this my home instead since this is where I'm to be Weyrwoman," she doesn't deny it, not anymore. It probably is part of why there's darkness under her eyes. "I'm eighteen, X'vin. Within a few turns, I'll be leading this place. I'll have help, but what if Zymadiath catches Taeliyth? Or one from Elaruth's last clutch? I have to focus on home first before I can focus on me." So she believes, anyway. "Listen," she tries to compromise, "I'm supposed to attend some gathers. Hattie says I need to be seen. Why don't you take me to the next one that's within Fort sweep? You can show me how to enjoy my duties." To Besmernyth, Taeliyth must file the sleepiness in the mental file reserved for the bronze pair, but the only thing she says with a hint of teasing that has a bite to it, « If. You. Asked. » Too sweet she separates the words, drops them like the first trickle of rain onto parched ground. The idea is really too amusing for her to avoid sharing her humor at being able to turn the tables on him for too long and sunshine dapples through leaves to brighten the mental world she shares with him. X'vin doesn't immediately answer her. It's partially because they're coming up on the entrance to the caverns and he's falling back a few steps, just enough to let her get ahead of him and enter first when they arrive. "I never came back to Fort, after I Impressed. We thought it was best we stay at Benden, make our lives there. And we did, it was fine. But Dee," and he reaches to catch her before she can actually precede him very far, his hand on her arm gently insistent, to turn her his direction. He wants eye contact, and he'll make it, sincere, "you'll grow to resent this place if it is in the way of your own happiness. And you won't last long. You'll get tired, and lonely, and you'll forget how to relate to anything that isn't business." Beat. A deep breath, then, "You'll become Hattie, with a family she never sees. Or, worse, you'll become Lilah, hard, unrelatable. That's not you." He lets her go, palms up in contrition. "I'd hate to see you go." If his jaw tightens again at the mention of Zymadiath, and the implications of any of Fort's bronze weyrlings catching Taeliyth, it's quickly smoothed away, even if it isn't run out by his smile. "Did she say that? Do you have any good dresses?" Clacking beaks of amusement, but still no fire for her; perhaps Besmernyth is out of kindling to start. « Is that so? It's a shame, that my sorts seem just fine, then. But, » and this is important; something mangy has appeared on the edge of his words, and it rubs like a cat against mind, low rumbling purrs from a darkly matted mass, « I am hungry. Taeliyth, my dear, my queen. Would you be so sweet as to bring me a beast? » Have the tables truly turned? It's hard to tell; he's basking in a sense of victory. (To Taeliyth from Besmernyth) Dee's arm is caught and though she wasn't expecting it, she's redirected easily, as she trustingly turns to face him as he wishes. Hazel eyes settle on his and she listens, her expression troubled. "I'm not going anywhere," this is firm. "This is my Weyr," while she might be troubled by that late at night when such doubts are allowed time to wreak havoc on quality sleep, she says it now with resolve. "I'm going to take care of it and everyone in it. It doesn't mean I don't want to be happy, too. "She did and I borrowed some from the stores that fit alright." But just alright. "If you want to help me, teach me," that much she makes simple, evidently willing to accept his instruction, "but don't ask me to give less to this place than it needs. I don't have a lot of time to learn everything." Everything. "And I can't trust that my weyrleader, whoever he ends up being, will have any sense to speak of." So it's extra important that she be competent, that she skip meals and not sleep enough... There's a shrewdness that isn't quite hidden by the amusement that radiates. « Porcine or bovine? » Taeliyth inquires sweetly; if she had lashes, she'd flutter them. « Where are you? » She lifts from the ground of the bowl to glide the distance to the feeding pens; it's just a slight detour and Dee needs to eat anyway. Besides, everyone knows hunting is more fun than classes, even if they are necessary. (To Besmernyth from Taeliyth) It seems briefly that X'vin might challenge her again, refute her reasoning for all the reasons it is illogical, but when he comes to a decision it's with a small shake of the head and a wan smile. "No, you're not. But there's no shame in having a place to go that feels like home, even briefly." He sweeps a broad gesture for her to continue, noting as an aside, "You're going to miss the muffin, and the bran ones are very dry today," as encouragement to continue, but it's little more than a mention. "I want you to be a good weyrwoman. You will be, out of necessity if no other reason. Just don't kill yourself before you have the chance. You feel so much for everyone else -- if I asked you right now how you felt, would you even be able to tell me?" Another twitch of his smile. Of dresses, he has a sidelong look of horror. "From the stores. Give me your measurements. We'll get you something worthy; no weyrwoman of mine will wear secondhand gather dresses." And, perhaps most importantly, a little tight, "There are ways to ensure your weyrleader knows what he's doing. Ways to make sure you're safeguarded against the foolishness of an untried one. They're ill-advised and not fool proof," but, in the hanging silence, there. « Bovine, of course. I'm no babe. » If she'd flutter, he'd beam, all teeth that are too sharp. The mange-beast continues to purr. He doesn't tell her where he is. Rather: « How well you motivate me to come to you. I'll be there soon. » And the flash of cold this time is not naturally him - it's tainted with reality, and snow flurries that have the audacity to melt, before his consciousness disappears between, and five seconds later he appears above the bowl to lazily spiral down, slowly, watching. (To Taeliyth from Besmernyth) The blush that floods Dee's cheeks touches her neck and probably lower though her functional attire doesn't reveal the truth of that. It's hard to say if it comes in answer to his question of how she feels or the matter of gather dresses. "I'm given to understand that the Weyr has a need for frugality. It wouldn't be seemly for me to be seen in new gather clothes when pay is cut." For some women, this would be a handy reason to rebuff an unwanted advance, but the way that Dee looks just a little wistful speaks to the fact that she's just trying to do the right thing. "The things from the stores are still nicer than anything I've owned myself." Farmcraft apprentices born and bred in Southern Weyr aren't known for an abundance of marks or nice things. "I'm making myself a home," she addresses one other point simply, "N'rov is helping me," is addition before she looks to the caverns. "Thank you, X'vin. I'll think about what we've spoken of." That's her diplomacy training at work, right there, but the small smile is genuine before she turns to head in to find one of those muffins. For all that Taeliyth is a slender, tiny thing (well, blue-sized now, but still), all that makes her a graceful huntress and no small amount of practice has gone into making her a fairly skilled one for her age. It takes only two passes to render the beast incapacitated. She even ensures it's still breathing before she delivers it to the bronze once his spiral is complete, an unmistakable pride in her ability to do that much when she's not even a turn. « And I wasn't even trying, » to motivate him. The sass there implies: imagine if she did. (To Besmernyth from Taeliyth) "As a weyrwoman -- in training -- it's necessary for your job. That Hattie would put you in a secondhand gather dress in the first place is --" an indignity, if his tone can be gauged as such. "Consider it a gift, from a man who has no place for frugality in his life. I want to see you do well, Dee -- eventually you're going to be taking the biggest hit of anyone in this, provided it doesn't lift, and then what? You'll be that poor, homely weyrwoman from Fort? No." But X'vin lets her go, notably without comment on N'rov, and if she looks back he won't have lingered at the door for her; he's turned his back and cut the direction they came from, where Besmernyth has settled for a landing. There comes an ovation of howls from Besmernyth's quarter, loud enough to startle that vibrating thing out and away into the snow. « You are quite skilled, » he praises her openly, and when he turns his full attention on Taeliyth it is without that listless fog, which sinks to the ground and dissipates. « You will always be quick, I think, » sounds pensive, planning, as he sinks his teeth into it and stops its feeble kicking. « Thank you, Taeliyth. Maybe I was a bit out of sorts. You've been a balm. » (To Taeliyth from Besmernyth) « And clever, » lest Besmernyth forget. « Independent is another good adjective for me, » is Taeliyth's unsubtle notation that she did this for him because she wanted to. Her choices are her own and woe be it to to the bronze who tries to tell her what to do. Or goldrider, for that matter. She'll be on her way, by her own choice, to the complex to join the rest of Quartz, leaving Dee to hurry back across the bowl with muffin in hand to try to make formation on time. Good luck, Dee. (To Besmernyth from Taeliyth) |
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