Difference between revisions of "Logs:Of Worthiness"

Your location's current time: 16:45 on day 26, month 9, Turn 57, of the Tenth Pass. It is a autumn afternoon.

You go towards the lake shore. Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr This shoreline marks the edge of the freshwater lake that fills the southeastern portion of the bowl. The gritty dirt of the bowl gives way to smooth sand. Dragons love to dive and bathe within the lake's deep waters, enticing their riders to join them for some play; a chilly but refreshing experience. Firelizards frollic above the clear surface, hunting for the small fish that are kept well stocked. Across the lake, the bowl wall rises high into the sky, its face dotted with weyr entrances. A few dragonlengths above the water, glimpses of a level cliff can be seen amidst boulders lining the edge. Just south of here, a smaller pond of water is divided from the main lake by a natural bridge of land. A path leads across the bridge and up to the diving cliffs, winding through a dotting of small boulders on its way. The afternoon is clear and the sun shines brightly. There is a strong wind that chops the lake's surface. Contents: Harley Mazinth Obvious exits: LAke Pond Diving Cliff Bowl

It's a clear, warm afternoon in the High Reaches, and R'hin's taking full advantage of the nice weather; he's currently jogging around the lake, shirt off, setting a fast pace. It looks like he's been at it for a while, and his mindspace is totally focused on the job, all but oblivious to anything else, distant expression on his face.

Harley waalks across the bowl and perches on the rock R'hin is usually sitting on. She's staring out across the lake with a very thoughtful, pensive expression on her face. The footfalls of the jogging rider catch her attention and she looks around. "Oh, hi R'hin."

The space of R'hin's pace takes him several steps past Harley before the voice registers, and he slows to a stop. Glancing over, he grins as he sees who it is - and where she is - walking over slowly, hands on his hips. "Harley," he returns, moving up to her and leaning past her to grab his shirt, discarded carelessly on his rock sometime earlier. He uses the shirt as a pseudo towel, before slinging it over his shoulder to dry. "Are you stalking me?" he asks, facetious.

Harley blinks, looking startled for a minute, then a wry expression touches her face. "Hardly." she answers, her tone dry. "I needed to take a break and think." she shrugs. "This is where I usually come to." She takes a longer look at R'hin. "Are you overdoing things a bit or just running off more of those laps your assigned?"

"You're sitting on my rock," R'hin points out with a gesture, as if he's claimed ownership, grin lingering on his features. Propping a foot on the rock, he leans an elbow on his leg, answering, "Neither. Just a mid-afternoon run. Although I think I've a session with Rilsa later this afternoon, so don't think I'm being slack and -not- getting punished."

Harley snorts. "I doubt it's 'your' rock. And yes, I'm sitting on it. You invited me to sit next to you once. Do I need to ask permission every time?" the tone is drier still. Then she smiles. "Well that's good. As long as your staying the same old R'hin, then I won't worry."

"One invitation does not extend into eternity. It was a limited time offer," R'hin clarifies with a twist of lips. "As for permission... well, let me think about that. Besides, it -is- my rock, look around the back there," he gestures, "I scraped my name into it. I spent valuable hours doing that, I think that extends some claim of ownership." The easy expression fades from his face by measures at Harley's latter words, and his answer, when it finally comes, is even, polite: "Yes. Just so."

A blond eyebrow is arched as she slants a look up at the weyrling. "You do realize I've been sitting on this rock since before you came here. How about co-ownership? Besides, there's room for you right there." she makes no other mention of the 'same ole R'hin'. "Your moods change faster than mine. That's saying something. Though I think Shalyn has us both beat. By a long shot."

R'hin doesn't sit down on the rock, despite the unspoken invitation. Instead, he pulls the shirt from his shoulder, and pulls it on. He pointedly forgoes any more talk of the rock, his expression hard at her comment, maybe a hint of anger, but he keeps it well heeled. "Shalyn and her ilk make me fear for the future of this Weyr," is all he says in response to that, straightening.

Harley smiles. "She's just one greenrider. I doubt that will ruin the weyrs future. Could make life interesting for a few people, but otherwise." and she shrugs. "Of course, that's just my opinion." She shifts on the rock, as if she's uncomfortable. "And in a place this big, that doesn't really count for much."

Judging by the tenseness of R'hin's posture, he doesn't agree, though he deliberately makes no further mention of it. "Have you given up so quickly on determining what's best for the Weyr?"

Harley's expression softens a little. "Yes. For the weyr. That includes everyone in those back caverns. The Weyrleaders know what's best for the riders. The riders, their dragons." a brief flash of sorrow crosses her face. "I wasn't good enough." Just as quickly, it's gone and she continues. I have to think about all the stuff most people don't think about. Or take for granted. I have to make sure that is taken care of and done properly so no one suffers the lack of any of life's necessities." She shrugs. "Noting has changed there. I'm still the same ole Harley."

R'hin's still angry, but this time he doesn't bother to hide it: "Shard it all, Harley," he growls, pacing away a few steps and turning, hand flinging out, "You don't get it, do you? It's not that you weren't good enough, or that there wasn't a dragon for -you-. It's a random Impression heaped on a dragon's whim at Searching. It has to be. Do you think -I- am the sort of person who ought to be responsible for the lives of people? Let alone be a -bronzerider-?"

Leiventh> To you, Leiventh wasn't paying much attention until now, though pauses to interject mildly, « You are a bronzerider, R'hin. »

Harley looks up at R'hin, not really surprised by his anger. "Yes." she answers simply and without hesitation. And it really is a simple, straightforward answer. "You are who you are. You keep telling me that. You don't try to uh," her lips twitch briefly "get yourself assimilated into the crowd." She's not nervous or afraid telling the weyrling this either. She's simply stating a fact.

"Then you're a fool," R'hin says, angry, forceful, "I am not a good person. I never was, and I never will be. If someone like -me- can impress, then you shouldn't ever feel you're not shelling good enough." He takes a step past and kicks at a rock, sending it flying towards the lake. His head turns deliberately towards the bowl, eyes narrowing a bit.

Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's crimson tones spike and swirl, reflecting your anger, though he rides it out, his earlier observation in his mind but not repeated, obvious as it is.

Harley frowns, as she listens to R'hin. Not in anger or frustration, but in a puzzled manner. Her mouth opens, but she bites back her first answer. When she does speak, her voice is just as puzzled as the expression on her face. "Your telling me I was *too* good to impress?" A very rude snort at herself pops out before she can stop it. "Hardly. Though I wonder." her voice trails off as a thoughtful expression fills her face again. "You, Maja, M'wen, hmmmm" and h er voice trails off again, that puzzled frown reappearing as she thinks.

R'hin levels his gaze at Harley, though doesn't respond: he seems to think his earlier statement is enough to stand. He spins on his heel, walking the other way, slowing and turning back towards Harley at her quiet speculation. Anger still lines his features, tensing shoulders and muscles, but he's struggling to control it. Silent, as he so rarely is, waiting for her to express her thoughts aloud.

When she does speak, her words have a slightly abrupt, almost clipped delivery. "Of all the candidates, how many of us were the 'happy go lucky always cheerful type? And of those cheerful types, how many impressed?" Her eyes leave the ripples of the lake as she looks at R'hin with an almost piercing gaze.

"Shaylar," R'hin says, automatically. "J'mian. You could probably count Bristia, even. Personality has -nothing- to do with it," he returns, just as sharply. "The dragon is supposed to be perfect for you, it shouldn't matter what your personality is, and it doesn't. Random fate." He flings his arms wide to emphasise his point.

Harley nods, but it's obvious she's still thinking about it. "Three. Out of what, ten who impressed? Out of 20 some odd candidates. Hmmmm." Her eyes are starting to sparkle. She's definitely got a brain teaser running through her brain now. "I'll have to wait till the next hatching or three to see how those eggs hatch before I start making wild guesses." and she shrugs again.

"A wild guess is what it is," R'hin disputes, flatly. "And more than three, that weaver boy who impressed the green is disturbingly happy about -everything-." And it's no surprise that the bronze weyrling doesn't even know the boy's name.

Harley shrugs. "That depends on how gloomy his life was before. Was he a happy happy candidate? Or not." Slowly, she stretches. "Like I said, I'll have to watch some other hatchings. I've heard," her voice stops abruptly and she shakes her head. "Sorry. Old aunties tales. Never mind." Relaxing again, she looks back out over the lake. "But I'll figure it out. Maybe."

"I don't even know his name," R'hin blithely admits. "And if he was, I probably avoided him." His brow furrows, irritation still lingering in his expression as he eyes Harley. "Heard what?"

Now it's Harley's turn to look a little wary. "Old aunties tales. About women who carry babies." and that's all she'll say for the moment. She's seen some of the men in the weyr run when those old tales are brought up and she wasn't quite sure what R'hin would do.

R'hin, for his part, just looks flatly confused. He folds his arms across his chest, head tilted, waiting for Harley to explain.

Seeing the arms crossed, Harley sighs. "Women who are happy when they carry have happy babies. Likewise, women who are unhappy, or stressed or whatever tend to have babies who cry a lot and are very fussy." she finally says. Speaking in a bit of a rush as well.

R'hin, misinterpreting, scowls. "What are you saying about my mother?"

Harley blinks at R'hin. Blinks several times actually. "Who said anything about *your* mother? I'm talking in general. Old aunties tale." her eyes narrow "Where does your mother come into all that?"

"You brought her up!" R'hin accuses, kicking at another rock. "I should go wash up," he says, abruptly, turning for the bowl.

Harley blinks and can't help it. She bursts out laughing. "Your mother's name is 'women'??? That's a first. Fine. Whatever. Have fun." and she waves a hand abruptly at R'hin's back, her eyes going back out to the ripples on the lake.

Straight-backed, R'hin continues towards the bowl without turning or acknowledging Harley's laughter or words.

You wander north towards the main bowl area.