Difference between revisions of "Logs:Of Rejection and Respect"

Your location's current time: 17:02 on day 26, month 3, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon.

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. 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 quite cloudy, with only a few open patches through which the sun pokes. There is a light breeze that ripples across the lake. Contents: Leiventh Deneth Obvious exits: LAke Pond Diving Cliff Bowl

M'wen strolls over from the eastern side of the bowl. M'wen has arrived.

Although winter has passed over the High Reaches, there's still a sharp chill in the air as the day approaches evening. The cool air doesn't much seem to bother Leiventh, nor does the temperature of the lake - the bronze is wallowing in the water, only half of him visible. R'hin, for his part, isn't partaking of the cold waters; he's settled on his usual rock, a set of riding straps beside him, a message slate propped on his knee as he sketches absentmindedly. He looks like he's been here for some time, though his riding leathers manage to keep him warm enough to linger out here, despite the fact that the smells of the evenings dinner are wafting across from the living caverns.

Despite the chill of the early spring evening, M'wen's shirt is loosly done up, open halfway up. Meandering seemingly aimlessly, he walks towards the lake shore, now aiming for a boulder jutting out precariously from the ground near the shoreline. Before sitting down against the rock, he glances around himself, noticing that someone else is here. Calling out to the familiar figure, made even more familiar by the wallowing bronze, "Hey there R'hin, didn't expect anyone else out here at this time, considering the food and all..." Pausing briefly to settle back against his chosen rock, "What brings you out in an evening like this?"

The scruffy-haired weyrling's chin jerks up at the sound of voice, pale eyes focusing on M'wen. "Wingleader," R'hin greets, in that mixture of solemn-and-amused: expression is solemn, tone is full of amusement. "Keeping that S'din on his toes, are you?" The use of the greenrider's name without his attached title is deliberate, and he's watching closely for reaction as he lowers his slate, before he finally answers the brownrider's query, "Haven't you ever noticed? I never eat in the living caverns when it's crowded. Leiventh wanted to swim," he adds, as if that's explanation enough as to why he's here, too.

M'wen sighs, rolling his eye's slightly at the completely expected reaction to a friendly hello. Knowing R'hin's tactic of baiting anyone with any authority, no matter how small an amount, makes M'wen keep a straight face, not rising to it like many including the person mentioned by R'hin improperly. Keeping a cheerful expression and tone, M'wen replies, "Actually, I didn't notice, but it's quite busy in there, and I normally come out to the lake later in the evening. Now, I know I'm the wingleader, but that doesn't suddenly let you be contemptous and arrogant towards me...I won't react the way S'din or Amilin do, so practice keeping a civil tongue in your head to me, and you'll probably have a lot less lap-running with the other two".

"I'm being perfectly civil," R'hin counters, allowing mild surprise to show through as lips purse. "I've no problem with you. I'm contemptuous and arrogant by nature - surely you know that much after a turn and a half living with me." He can't help it, a knowing grin spreading across his lips. "Though I can't say as I regret us all getting our own weyrs. Priya's sourness was almost making me want to leap off Leiventh in between to escape it." Despite the easiness of the joke, the bronze seems to react - turning over out in the water, glowing eyes visible in the evening dimness.

Leiventh> To you, Leiventh seems to consider you a moment, aware of the joke, « And leave -me- to deal with her? I'd not let you be that lucky, R'hin. »

"This is indeed true," M'wen sighs, realizing the frutility of argueing with R'hin. "One of these days your going to make a wingleader -really- happy to have you in their wing." He says, obviously a facetious remark. "Now I can actually get a decent night's sleep because I don't have to listen to you bickering with Maja or Priya the whole time, so, yeah, I agree about that weyr comment." Closing his eye's, which is obviously talking to his dragon, "If Leiventh doesn't mind, Maxeoth is coming over for a swim. And if this is you being civil, I'd hate to hear you on an off day."

Maxeoth wanders over from the eastern side of the bowl. Maxeoth has arrived.

"So I keep hearing," R'hin agrees, mild in response to M'wen's tone. "I've already annoyed Melata enough to hopefully avoid being shoved into -her- wing," and he sounds distinctly relieved about that, not bothering to hide it. "Come on, how boring would it be if I weren't arguing with someone? All you'd do is sleep and eat. That's no way to live life." It's hard to tell if he's being wry or not, expression giving nothing away. A twitch of shoulders, a hand flickered magnanimously towards the lake in invitation, "Leiventh doesn't mind. It's a big lake."

High in the bowl, Liaoth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

In the sky directly above, Liaoth wings down and lands lightly at the lake shore. Liaoth has arrived.

Jazra climbs down from Liaoth's neck. Jazra has arrived.

"Kinda makes me woder what they do with the reject weyrlings that no weyrleader wants," This is directed at R'hin specifically, and not a passing comment. Then M'wens natural attitude takes over and to take away the sting of his last remark he give's a light hearted chuckle to show he may have been joking. "Well, how about....", Seeing a dragon flying in towards them, he cut's off mid-sentance to see who it is.

R'hin's seated on a rock near to the lake, a set of riding straps on the rock beside him as he eyes M'wen with amusement. "I imagine I'll find out very soon," the bronzerider answers, visibly unconcerned. "Judging by X'dyr, they keep them as permanent weyrlings. Maybe he and I can form a club." He seems to take the comment in stride, though there might be a sharp glitter of eyes, oddly pleased at such a comment coming from the other weyrling. Leiventh's currently wallowing in the lake, still enough in the water that he barely causes any ripples, greeting Maxeoth's arrival with a faint, bassy rumble.

Liaoth circles in for a landing before, spying the pair by the lake, sails in towards them. Jazra grins at the tight, neat circle. The green lands and Jazra pauses for a moment on her back before Jazra dismounts and looks around. Her tan, her clothes, and her shoulder badge all indicate that she is not from around here, and her look is akin to a tourist who is rather lost. "Okay, okay, I'll ask for directions, jeesh." She leaves the package in her saddle bag, just checking to see that its safe. Finding it is, she turns around and around. "He's got to be here somewhere." She mutters.

Leiventh's head lifts, water streaming over cinnamon-bronze hide as he greets the Istan green with a low rumble. R'hin, eerily, turns to examine the greenrider much in the same way that Leiventh examines Liaoth - intently, with interest. "'Reaches duties," he greets easily, eyes flicking over her knot, managing to stop the almost automatic process of saluting before it's quite completed. Pushing up from his lazy recline on the rock, he spreads his hands wide, "How can we help our illustrious Istan visitor this evening?" it's a little bit put upon, but he's grinning all the same, as if aware of it.

Jazra straightens up. "I came to visit an uncle of mine, there's been trouble with the family. My folks are from Boll, mostly its personal. I'm Jazra, and this is Liaoth." She indicates the green. "His name's Jernaine, he's been living here for quite a lot of turns now." She adds. "He's a smith, a glass smith, would you happen to know him?" She asks this with the utmost politeness, her easy demeanor with her dragon is a total three sixty from her now stiff and formal manner.

"R'hin," the bronzerider returns in kind, smoothly, a hand gesturing in the bronze's direction, "And Leiventh. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jazra. That's M'wen and Maxeoth," his head tips in the appropriate directions, coming to a halt a few steps away from Jazra, just outside her personal space. "You impressed at the most recent Ista hatching? You're already allowed out by yourselves?" The last sentence is more statement than question, giving a pointed sort of look M'wen's way for a moment. Lips purse as he considers the Istan's question. "Perhaps. I'll need to think about it, though. Please, sit down," he invites, as if indicating a seat in a comfortable cavern, rather than grouping of rocks by the lake.

M'wen ponders R'hins latest comments, noticably not understanding his light-hearted attitude towards being rejected from a wing. Nodding briefly at the arriving rider, noticing that R'hin has got it under control, he stares back out at the lake, watching Maxeoth frolick about in the water, and the top of Leiventh's head. Obviously you can tell he's not the sociable type with people from outside the weyr.

Leiventh> Liaoth senses that Leiventh's mental tones briefly touch yours: crimson and bass intertwined, curiousity flaring them into bright spots here and there. His greeting is non-verbal, quickly followed by, « Mine says where you live is warm. I'd like to go there some day. »

Leiventh senses that Liaoth 's seeping breezy tones, light and airy like a summer day, sail across the distance between her and the bronze. «Indeed, it is quite warm, and the sun when it sets fires like a ruby in the light, as though the entire world has been bathed in the richest golden light» And indeed, the mental image of the sea from the harbor, several docks and elegant sailing ships, a setting sun and the tinkle of glasses from the nearby bar.

Leiventh> Liaoth senses that Leiventh seems to consider the response for a long time, pleased in turns by the mental images that the description conjures up, sharing a picture of fires in the sky in turn. « My weyr looks like that, » he eventually shares, « It's colored like the sea, with a lookout, and we have fishing nets. No fish, though. » a hint of disappointment at that last, sharpening into hopeful tones, « Are there many fish there? »

Jazra nods and takes the offered seat. "It's a pleasure R'hin. How go things here at High Reaches? I had to fly through on a Weyrling outing before now, but I didn't get to stop along the way." She adds. "I had never seen snow before then." Did Jazra almost smile? Liaoth pauses near the humans, before bounding happily off towards the lake and warbling greetings to the male dragons.

Leiventh senses that Liaoth's tone is as light hearted as the zephyrs at the evening tides. « Indeed, there are many fish there. I have seen the human sailors bringing home entire netloads of them, but unfortunately these come from very far off I'm told. It has something to do with the rumbling earth there. They say that it kills the fish in local waters, so the humans have to go farther to get them. »

Once the greenrider is settled, R'hin's eyes lift skywards, as if he's considering, lips pursed in thought. "Now, let's see. Jernaine, Jernaine," he mutters as if making an effort to try and recall the man, though M'wen probably knows the bronzerider well enough to know that he's simply playing it up, and has no idea who the person is. "Older guy? Bit of a belly? Dark hair." A few stabs in the dark are taken, expression nothing if not earnest. "The 'Reaches goes well," he adds, the answer more formulaic and practiced than anything else. "Snow's pretty overrated, really. I'm glad winter's over."

Leiventh> Liaoth senses that Leiventh's tones strengthen, crimson sharpening into almost brightly painful splashes as his interest intensifies. « There are fish in here, » he says, meaning the lake, as you approach, « But they hide deep and move fast. Maybe a green would be fast enough to catch them, though, » he suggests, cannily.

Jazra nods. "That's the one, although I hear he's trying to lose weight, but most of that extra flesh is muscle, or so he's said in his letters." Jazra's eye flicks to watch her green. "You be careful Liaoth, don't get too cold!" She warns, again, the almost smile.

Leiventh senses that Liaoth 's tone straightens stiffly, a springlike breeze. « I can try. » She exclaims, a deep liquid bluegreen mixing with the crimson.

R'hin's guessed descriptors are vague enough that it could've been one of a hundred people at the 'Reaches, but he's nonetheless pleased. "I'd imagine he's having dinner right now, but given how packed the caverns are bound to be, you're better off waiting. I'm sure M'wen and I can keep you company, however." The bronzerider seems to have taken M'wen's silence in stride, almost as if he's used to it, and used to compensating for it. His eyes trail towards the water, lingering on Leiventh for a moment before flicking to Liaoth. "I wouldn't brave it, but Leiventh says he doesn't even feel the cold," the words are intended as subtle reassurance. "And yourself, Jazra? Not too cold? Would you like my jacket?" He's courteous to the extreme, and one can only speculate as to why.

Leiventh> Liaoth senses that Leiventh sends pleased encouragement, staying still, aware his bulk is more likely to chase the fish away... and then a thought occurs to him. « I'll scare them towards you. They always flee from me. » Happy with the spontaneous plan, he ducks underwater to enact it.

M'wen smiles a bit at R'hin's guesses which probably apply to about 1/4 of the weyr who are over 30 turns. Then chuckles softly to himself when the guesstimate ends up being correct. Knowing that R'hin will just make this run on with incessant chatter, M'wen stands up, offering up, "I know where Jernaine lives in the dormitories and I can show you later if you want, but right now, I hate to say it, R'hin's right about how packed the lower caverns will be, and it would be a good idea to wait a bit."

Jazra shrugs. "I left mine draped over my stra... oh no... Liaoth! Get back here! You forgot you've got the package in my saddle bag!" Jazra cries, horrified, though her jacket has been dropped a little ways away from the lake shore Liaoth still has the saddle bag, and package inside of it, firmly attached to her back, not to mention the straps!

Liaoth bespoke Leiventh and Maxeoth with « Oops. »

R'hin gives M'wen a wry sort of look, not in the least embarrassed at being caught out by his fellow weyrling. He shrugs out of his jacket, moving over to offer to drape it over Jazra's shoulders. A sharp glance to the water, and he coughs briefly. "Sorry about that. I think Leiventh was encouraging her." Apologetic, he asks, "Was it something important? Maybe the saddlebag protected it."

Leiventh> Maxeoth and Liaoth sense that Leiventh seconds Liaoth's reaction, but it's colored with disappointment, too. « I guess the fish will have to wait. »

Jazra sighs. "There were two packages, one of arrow tips and the other of some clothes that my mother made for Jernaine. Part of the reason why I wanted to come." She rolls her eyes as the dragon comes into shore. Jazra detaches the bag. "The arrow tips will have to get the rust sanded off of them if they do. Hang on dear, I'll get that off and you can go play." She tells the green as she retrieves the straps. She scoops up her own jacket. "At least this isn't wrecked." She hands R'hin back his jacket. "I was a huntress before I impressed, I keep up with my skills."

R'hin takes the jacket back, still standing, resting one foot up on the rock and draping the jacket over it rather than putting it back on immediately. "Maybe you can dry out the clothes and come back another day? He'd never know the difference - and it'd be a good excuse for you to visit again." Smile twitches across his lips, before his head tips and he examines the Istan greenrider with more interest. "A huntress? I've done a little hunting here and there, but mostly self-taught. I'd love to learn for real. Do you think you'd be interested in teaching me? When you've time, of course," he says, in deference to her.

Jazra turns as her name is called. "Jernaine?" Sure enough the man heading towards them fits the description and is wearing a smith's journeyman's knots. "Uncle Jernaine!" She turns to the others. "Be right back boys!"

M'wen watches the Istan rider go with her uncle towards the lower caverns, and turns back to R'hin. For once, a look of slight annoyance on his face. "They don't let us do that here, and we've been weyrlings easily as long as she has. Probably S'din feels we aren't -ready- or some insignificant excuse like that." Realizing the type of attitude he's displaying in front of none other then R'hin, he snaps his mouth shut, and mumbles something incoherantly.

R'hin, too, watches the greenrider's departure, his own expression markedly different than M'wen's... more speculative. Straightening and pulling his jacket back on, the bronzerider seems pleased M'wen didn't miss that aspect. "They only hatched a little over eleven months ago," he confirms, "And -we- still need to be escorted everywhere." It's clear he agrees with the unfairness of it all. "I mean, I can understand them holding back certain people... like myself... but you, Maja, shards, even Bristia, we've all been betweening for months." He exhales slowly, then adds as if in consolation, "You are allowed to express discontent. It's not like I haven't made my own perfectly clear. He treats us like children. You know that."

M'wen lets out a deep sigh, "I know that R'hin, but I'm the wingleader and I have to act like it, even you should be able to see that through your inflated ego." He leans back down against the rock, closing his eye's in thought, until it looks as if he's fallen asleep, but then, "You know I have nothing against you, and I'm sure we can work together fine as long as you at least show respect towards me...If you can do that, I won't keep confronting you about such insignificant events as I have in the past." He opens his eye's and looks towards R'hin. "What do you say about that?"

"You're allowed to be a human with your own opinions, too," R'hin answers, with a hint of asperity. "If all you're going to do is follow orders blindly, then you shouldn't -be- a Wingleader." He's watching M'wen with silent intensity, still standing, giving him the advantage of height, expression tight at the brownrider's words. After a moment, he spreads his hands, "If you stand up and speak when you should, defend us when you should - from S'din, or his ilk if necessary - then you'll have my eternal respect."

M'wen stands up, slowly and deliberatly, so as not to seem confrontational. Speaking slowly, but with a hint of anger in his voice, "And where did you get the idea I follow orders blindly without thinking through every possible consequence towards others and myself. Have I ever been given an order which would harm either me or the ones that matter to me? No, and if I was, I would find a way to make sure it could help as many others as possible, and making sure no matter how bad or stupid a decision would be made by S'din, that the weyrling wing, or whatever wing for that matter, would stand strong and achieve our common goal of protecting the people of pern."

"I haven't seen anything of you either way," R'hin admits, languid eyes following M'wen as he stands, "So I'm reserving my judgement for the moment." The words have the ring of honesty to them, easily meeting the brownrider's eyes. At his latter words, the scruffy-haired weyrling actually lets out a low chuckle, pleased. "Nicely said, nicely said. Wingleader." Abruptly, he offers a sharp salute to his fellow weyrling, before turning to scoop up his riding straps, the sound of splashing water hint at Leiventh's departure from the lake. "We may get along just fine, yet."

M'wen looksa bit surprised at R'hin's change of attitude, even though he should be used to it by now. Slowly returning the salute, "Your a good rider, whether you believe that or not. Just remember that things aren't alwasy what they seem, and then you will understand wht I've been trying to tell you for so long." And with that, he turns and calls over to Maxeoth, "Come out or you'll catch a cold!!!"

"I understand all too well. That may be my problem." There's a hint of amusement in the bronzerider's reply, and he gives a last nod to his fellow weyrling before moving towards Leiventh, mounting and aloft in swift succession.

You climb up onto Leiventh's back, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching closely.

You launch into the sky.