Difference between revisions of "Logs:Art therapy"

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.

This afternoon, tables have been set out in the Weyrling Cavern for an exercise. Some of the weyrlings are settled in seats and on the tables are bowls of water, blocks of clay, rags, and shaping tools. Some of the weyrlings had an opportunity to make their models of dragon anatomy during month 2, but due to some scheduling snafu with the scheduling for the kiln, others had to wait until month 4. It might be for the best though, since dragonhealing classes have been going along longer, in theory the weyrlings should have a better understanding. The theory though, doesn't seem to be holding up looking at some of the projects on-going. There are only a couple weyrlings per table owing to the fact that several of the lifemates are interested in this particular project. K'zin has just sat down to get started, a small block of clay in front of him and Rasavyth is settled off to one side, though his head is extended out to hang in the air beside his rider.

Despite having made a dragon with the earlier lot in their second month, N'ky is making another one now, that should be considerably bigger and a whole lot less pudgy ball-like than the previous version. Not that Cailluneth's slimmed out much in the time that's passed since; she's still as tubby, there's just more of her for that tubbiness to spread out over. He looks up when K'zin sits at the table opposite him, Cailluneth crooning a raspy hello to Rasavyth. The clay rendition of the green is only just getting underway, with N'ky having carved out the basic shape of a lying-down dragon from his block of clay. As he works on refining the shape of his dragonet-to-be, he stretches one of his long legs under the table to kick at K'zin's boot. Other than that, he doesn't even look at the bronzerider... though there's a cheeky smirk tweaking at the corner of his mouth that he can't quite hide.

Art is one of the few things it can be said with certainty that K'zin has a real passion for. So wrapped up in beginning the task at hand, he doesn't even notice that he's sat down across from N'ky until that kick contacts his boot. Startled brown eyes flick up away from the promise the clay holds to find the source of the kick. "Oh, hey Nick." His greeting is friendly, warm, and with a typical Waki grin. Rasavyth was not so slow as his rider, though his interest, too, is keen on this activity. His warble comes quickly to greet Cailluneth. K'zin's head gives a nod towards the green. "Hey Cai." His eyes fall to the clay sculpture N'ky's working on briefly before coming back to his own block. "How's it going?" It? Things in general. It? The sculpture. Chances are good that N'ky could pick any topic he wanted to answer the question with. K'zin's hands reach for the thin wire that ends in wooden toggles on either end to start shaping the block.

"Cailluneth's taller than me." Which is... well, not quite an answer to the question, but an answer nonetheless. N'ky peeps up briefly at K'zin, then turns his gaze back down to where he's shaping clayCailluneth's muzzle to be just right; it's still the daintiest part of her, slender in comparison to the rest. The green dragon lies down and rests her chin up on the table beside N'ky, so he can observe the particular details more closely as he works. "You didn't get a silver thread either, then." There's no looking up to check the knot on his friend's shoulder; doing so might just make the disappointment over his own lack of a leadership programme shiny a little more obvious.

"That's... good?" K'zin's tone of mild surprise suggests it wasn't quite the answer he was expecting to the question, but a repeat of the phrase with a less questioning pitch makes it sound much more certain. "She's growing nicely.-- You're growing nicely." The first to her rider, the second to the dragon since she's right there. K'zin's fingers work over the clay for a moment then back to the cord slicing until he's got the rough, blocky shape of what will hopefully become a dragon. "Nah. I didn't expect to though. Quinlys pretty much said I wouldn't." She hadn't said anything specifically except that he had the potential for leadership, but potential for and realized ability are two entirely different things. "When I turned myself in for breaking the rules and started my punishment." Some three or four sevens back. "I'm surprised you and Cai didn't get one though. I wonder how they decide these kinds of things. Cai's probably neck and neck with Solith for best hunter in the class." He observes one of the green strengths. "And you're -- you. Got leadership potential written all over you." His tone is earnest; clearly he believes it, anyway.

"I wasn't good enough." N'ky shrugs, reaching over to stroke Cailluneth - and stopping halfway when he remembers his hands are covered in clay - the need to touch his lifemate has become as much of a tell as running fingers through his hair has ever been. She drops her head from the table and into his lap instead, nuzzling against him, and N'ky's shoulders sink in relaxation as he sighs, happily. "Quinlys was the one who told me I had to see Madilla for my stutter. I told her I wanted to be a weyrlingmaster, but I guess she doesn't want someone like me teaching weyrlings, when I can't talk properly half the time? Though I'm getting better. I'm definitely getting better. Not good enough yet," he smooshes a piece of clay with his thumb, venting a little, "but I'm as good as anyone who did get chosen. It must be because Quinlys doesn't like people who stutter." Heavy-handedness due to distraction has him breaking off what would have been one of clayCailluneth's headknobs, and he pounds a fist against the table in wordless frustration before trying to fix it back on.

"What?!" K'zin's voice rises high enough to penetrate the general conversation in the cavern as the weyrlings work on their clay projects, and it earns him a few looks. He's heedless, however, as he stares at N'ky. "You weren't good enough?! What the fangs of Faranth are you talking about." He demands as the wire is tossed to the side, clattering on the table. The bronzerider is up in arms, and it's only half in play. His hands hit the table with a smack as he stands, brown gaze boring down into the former ferrier. "I will march into the Weyrlingmaster's office right now, so help me, if you think even for one moment that you're not good enough for their sharding stupid silver thread." Clearly, the idea incenses K'zin, as it ought any best-friend worth half his salt. "Stutter, shmutter." K'zin dismisses quickly. "I can understand you just fine, why can't they." At this point, he's sinking back into his seat, though he looks ready to move at a moment's encouragement. "Should be something you should work on if only you want to. Or I guess, for like, emergency situations. But in those, Cai'd say for you anyhow." He's not on the "get rid of the stutter" team, that's for sure, but he does acknowledge certain practicalities. He frowns, thinking likely on the words of Quinlys' dislikes from the many turns he's known her. "There might be something to that. About Quinlys. I don't know." He doesn't. He shrugs. "You just be you. The silver thread doesn't mean anything anyways. I heard K'del didn't get one until the very end and look how many turns he was Weyrleader for." He reaches for his tool again with one hand while the other goes to the bowl of water on the table to moisten the clay he's working with. By now, the heads that turned have re-focused to their own works once again.

"Waki!" N'ky hisses his friend's name when the bronzerider's outburst begins, and when he notices all those eyes turning to them, he sinks low on the bench, hunching over in the hopes of disappearing. Cailluneth wuffles at him, nudging her nose into his belly encouragingly, then raising her head to press her muzzle against his cheek. N'ky starts to reach for her again, snorting in frustration when he remembers how dirty his hands are. Instead, he opts for pressing the side of his face to hers and kissing her muzzle softly, then getting back to work. "I know it doesn't mean anything, but... I wanted one. I've never been picked for anything like that, and I've been trying so hard." Though, since he found out he wasn't picked, N'ky's efforts - in studying, in particular - have dropped off a little. He's not spending so much of his free time reading up, and his marks in his remedial classes, especially maths, have dropped as a result. The greenrider shrugs, forming a piece of clay between his fingers - a neckridge, by the looks of it. "You know I hate my stutter. I wish I could speak to everyone like I speak to you... it's so frustrating not being able to speak properly when I want to." He peers up from beneath a heavy frown, brown eyes bright. "You really gonna go stomp into Quinlys' office and tell her she's wrong for thinking I'm not good enough for a stupid silver thread?"

"I would!" K'zin's tone is resolute. His hand releases the tool and he starts to push up out of his seat again, only to sink back down before he's half-way up. "Only, that's probably the worst thing I could do for you. A recommendation from me would probably just lump you with the bad lot." His brow furrow as he picks up his tool once more and begins edging around the torso of the dragon that is slowly but surely becoming. "I guess you've probably never really had the chance to be picked for something like that before. Apprentices at the Hall get awarded things that come with extra responsibilities for bragging rights if they do well, but I guess split between the Halls for your classes, you'd never have gotten a chance at it before." He shakes his head. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. But there's probably still time to get one, if you want. If you work hard. And maybe if your stutter gets better." The last is added grudgingly. "Have you ever tried pretending so hard that you might just believe it that you have the kind of history with other people that you have with me? Like, when you're talking to someone, just pretend that it's me? Close your eyes if you have to. Or whatever." He's no healer, but it's an idea. "I've been studying hard lately," He has, "But if you want, I can work with you on math some? I know they consider grades. Maybe if we get ourselves out of our remedial classes," For him, that beast is history and geography, where his marks have made a rapid improvement since his injury, "Maybe we might still have a chance to get those fancy threads." Beat. "Or we can just give up and make fun of the ones that did." He probably wouldn't; not with Rasavyth to push him, but he makes it sound like a real option.

"Eh." N'ky's nose wrinkles as he pulls an unhappy, disinterested face. "I wasn't good enough the first time when I was working so hard, Waki. What's going to make that change?" He shrugs, smooshing another blob of clay beneath his thumb. Flattened, it's the perfect width for making more 'ridges out of, which he starts doing. "I don't see the point in trying hard. I'm never going to pass maths, and I'm never going to get my history or geography up to scratch, so why bother?" Another shrug of his shoulders, and another wrinkle of his nose. "Maybe if I stop studying all the time, I'll get to sleep, or maybe see some of the people I've barely seen since the Hatching. Maybe I'll get to spend more time with Cailluneth without my nose stuck in a book. She doesn't care if I can multiply 34 by six or whatever." 'Ridges are applied all the way down his model's back now, and N'ky leans back against his lifemate's side, taking advantage of her being so close behind him. "It's summer. Nothing's better than a High Reaches summer. I want to go outside and enjoy it, not waste my time reading books about stupid things that won't get me anywhere. Who needs numbers? We don't."

Waki is a real pro at pep talks, see: "Fine. Be a quitter if you want." Leadership skill: how to motivate others: check! "No point to do it if you were only doing it for them anyway. You have to make changes and learn things for you. If the kind of you want to be is a lazy quitter, then that's who you'll be. I'm sure I'll like having a lazy quitter as a best friend and I'm sure Cai will like having a lazy quitter for a lifemate." His brown eyes go to the green then, tilting his head. Maybe he's hoping she can read his brief expression to say: he doesn't mean this; he's trying to help (in an awful but well-meaning way). "You will, won't you, Cai? You guys can be the new I'zech. But green." He shrugs, and as if he hasn't dug himself a big enough seems-like-he's-being-an-awful-friend hole, he adds, "Maybe they'll expect that from a green though. Since you're convinced that being bronze means something different. You can prove the point that greens shouldn't have leadership, be the example that traditionalists point to as to why you shouldn't be a Wingleader or whatever you want to be." He sets aside the wire shaping tool and picks up a pair of scrapers, using one in each hand to carefully round out back haunches. Rasavyth's pose has changed slightly, his body has shifted a little closer and his neck is stretched a hair closer to K'zin's. The hunter would likely recognize the pose of a protector, just in case Cailluneth doesn't take kindly to the bronzer's attempt at reverse psychology.

The longer K'zin talks, the more withdrawn N'ky becomes, and the faster Cailluneth's eyes whirl, changing from serene blue-green to an anxious red-yellow. When the bronze weyrling stops, N'ky is silent a moment longer, looking down at the model dragon in front on him with a frown creasing his brow beneath the overhang of his curls. Then he drives his hand down into the soft clay figurine, venting his frustration by smooshing it between his fingers. Cailluneth raises her wings and steps aside so N'ky can push his chair back; the green settles in beside him, hovering protectively over him as he strides out to the bowl, looking hurt.

K'zin's face isn't in full shock, but definitely disappointed surprise as N'ky heads for the bowl. "Well," The weyrling looks to his dragon, "Shit." Done fucked up again. A deep breath births a heavy sigh. "That didn't work." He grumbles as his hands start to make a mangle of his own clay project. "Ras, we really need to get into that Silver Thread thing. Nick too. I apparently can't motivate people worth shit." He frowns as his fist squirts clay out either side to ooze down to the tabletop. "Not even my best friend." Standing, he kneads his fists into the clay, letting the malleable substance absorb his anger and frustration and likely starts working out yet another way to apologize to someone he cares about.

Comments

Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 22 Apr 2013 22:52:21 GMT.

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*winces* Yeowch. That could have gone better.