Difference between revisions of "Logs:Anger Management"

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.

Today should have been the last day of shadowing Glacier for the weyrlings, but after Aishani's knot was found in the Living Caverns yesterday, the former Acting Weyrleader's wing cancelled. Thus, it's a free day for Cirrus-- but not for N'ky and Cailluneth, who are invited down to the training cavern by Olveraeth. « It's time for a lesson, » says the blue, blowing stardust in the green's direction. « Meet us here. » By now, the training cavern entrance is too small for even the greens to get through, which would be why Olveraeth is waiting outside-- Quinlys, however, is inside, in the warm, sitting on the arm rest of the old couch, and looking pensive.

Cailluneth returns the stardust cast in rainbow hues, a confirmation that they're coming. She arrives first, landing riderless by Olveraeth, tucking her wings neatly to her sides and settling in. N'ky comes by foot across the bowl, his cast-clad arm no longer trussed up in a sling, but hanging loose by his side; the red stains on the plaster covering look to be from redwort, the scent of which, mingled with numbweed, lingers on his clothing. He passes by Cailluneth and into the cavern, the green watching his every move until he's out of sight, inside, and on his way to Quinlys. "Weyrlingmaster," he greets her with a dip of his head, pausing a few steps away from her.

"N'ky," says the Weyrlingmaster, straightening as he comes in, and then drawing herself to her feet. "How's the arm feeling?" Olveraeth huffs a warm breath of air at Cailluneth, drawing his wings around himself to protect from the dense, chilly fog that lingers in the bowl around them. « He's pretty clumsy, » he says. « Your rider. He must be, to hurt himself like that. » It's quite conversational, really, except for the faint edge of something. Something.

"It's getting b-better, ma'am." N'ky holds up said arm, wincing a little as he turns it back and forth in examination. "It might need another, um, m-month or so to be fully healed, but it's getting there." He cradles it in his right arm, the cast up against his chest. "I've been, um, e-enjoying... the..." He's distracted, the faraway look in his eyes a sign that he's half with his dragon... who doesn't so much like what Olveraeth just said. Her mind to him is cold, hard moonlight, edged with a shimmering haze of barely held-back red. She doesn't retort, beyond that. "... w-work in the dragon infirmary."

"Good," says Quinlys, distracted, and with that look in her eyes that suggests that she, too, is partially with her dragon. "That's good. On both counts." She's watching him, though, rather as though she's waiting for something. « And stupid, » continues Olveraeth, quite as if he hasn't noticed Cailluneth's upset, though he must have: he's generally too observant to miss something as obvious as that. « Why, he can't even control you, can he? None of the wings will ever want you. You may have to stay with us forever. »

The moonlight in Cailluneth's mind breaks, washed away by a flood of primal red anger and black denial; her Heart is is not stupid. The ire manifests physically, too, in more than just the reddened whirl of her eyes; where she was relaxed, her wings are clipped in tighter, her talons dig into the damp earth, and a deep, warning growl reverberates from her, dulled only slightly by the fog. "Y-yes," is about all N'ky can manage in reply to Quinlys about things being good; then he's got his head bowed, chin to chest, eyes closed in concentration. "Th-that's not t-true, ma'am... i-is it? N-no wing... w-will want us?" The stutter rises out of distraction, and fear of whether or not that could actually be true - the latter evident in the slight tremble of his delivery.

And still, Olveraeth pushes. It's deliberate-- she may or may not be able to see that, now, given her ire, but the blue is making it increasingly obvious. « He's useless, » he says. « You picked the wrong person. He can't even talk properly. » His goading is forceful, etched into his night sky, as if being laid out for the world to see. "Control her anger, N'ky," says Quinlys, her eyes half closed. "Control it." It's not really an answer... but maybe it is.

Cailluneth's on her feet by now, slunk menacingly low as she paces, tail lashing behind her broad form. In her mind, she's more riled; Olveraeth will see her desire to lash out, the flash of talons struck by moonlight and darkened by blood - red blood, rather than dragons' green ichor. She growls almost continually now, swiping a paw through the air in a half-lunge at nothing. In his concentration, N'ky has his eyes scrunched shut, both hands curled into fists so tight that his nails would press painfully into his palms if they were any longer. But his teeth are sunk into his lip with equal intensity, to the point where the flesh is white beneath the pressure of his bite.

"Breathe," says Quinlys, keeping her voice low and steady, almost rhythmic, one word after another. One beat after another. "Remind her that you love her, that you don't care what anyone thinks, and that neither does she. Remind her that you have to prove that other people are wrong. Clear her mind for her. Breathe for her. In and out. You love her. Everything is okay." Olveraeth has scarcely moved, and his inner-most eyelids are closed, though he's likely still watching her through their thin veil. « You're never going to be any good, » he says. « Either of you. » It doesn't sound as though he's enjoying this.

N'ky draws in one deep breath; he holds it, then exhales sharply before sucking in another. He repeats that a few times more, before settling into a slightly ragged, but slower and more determined rhythm. Olveraeth's pushing leads Cailluneth to snake her neck towards him, the growl even deeper in pitch and her back hunched like a wolf's hackles raised - she swipes at the air in front of him with one paw, her mind clearly wanting to sink talons into something solid, but being held back. She resumes her slinking, tail still lashing, while her roiling mind eases just a little, and only gradually so - still black and red, though less frantically so.

Just like that, Olveraeth's touch eases, withdrawing until there's only the faint twinkling of stars, far into the distance. "Good," says Quinlys, exhaling. "Very good. Calm her down. N'ky. Tell her you love her. That Olveraeth didn't mean it. Bring her back. You did really well - you both did." And the blue, very quietly, offers an apology: « I'm sorry. We had to test you, Cailluneth. I did not mean any of it. »

Never vocal at the best of times, Cailluneth's only answer for Olveraeth is a bubble, inky black and glossy, erected as a barrier between herself and her Heart. The growling subsides, though she doesn't stop pacing yet. Within the bubble, should the blue care to look, her thoughts turn from stormy dark to silvery light, swirled with golden-pink. N'ky breathes out heavily when Quinlys praises him - he slowly unclenches, touching his finger to his lip where the indent of his teeth remains visible. He slumps a little, shoulders sinking while his breathing returns to something closer to normal, while his gaze drops to the floor, eyes closing again to touch in with his lifemate... who finally settles, though her tail doesn't stop it's lashing.

Olveraeth has nothing else to add, verbally, but his approval is there nonetheless: quietly written amongst the stars, echoed throughout eternity in the aurorae, and the distant nebulae, all brilliantly hued and perfect. "Hey," says Quinlys. "It's okay. Take your time. Do you want to go and stand with her, touch her? You can do that, too."

N'ky looks up slowly, nodding his head as he turns his gaze to the door that Cailluneth's outside of, but he doesn't make a move to join her yet. "Sh-she gets so... her temper. When it's... wh-when she's angry, it's... it's so different." He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, twice over the spot where his teeth may even have left a little bruise. "Will it always be so h-hard to... to c-calm her down? She does it so quick sometimes, I c-can't... I can't get there fast enough."

"I know," says Quinlys. "That's one of the things you need to learn how to deal with: how to see the signs, and how to make sure that even when she's not angry, you're there, so that if you need to try and calm her down... It's not easy, I know that." Right now, she seems utterly sympathetic, and quietly sincere in what she says. "It will get easier, though, as you work out the best ways to answer her anger. Impose your will on her. That's not something to do in normal activities, but it's important, in this."

"Normally we're good." But not all the time can be normal, of course. N'ky looks down at Quinlys, shoulders sinking as he exhales. "S-sometimes she gets angry because I'm angry. Sometimes I get angry because she's angry; everything she feels has an effect on me." He chews softly on his lip again, digging his right hand, the one not clad in a cast, into his pocket. "When she's angry, she wants to, um... it's k-kinda physical? Like with the ewes. And...and she wanted to... sh-she wanted to hurt Olveraeth. I didn't let her. She shouldn't do that. There was one time when, um, a l-long time back, she... she w-wanted to hurt someone who c-came too close when I d-didn't want to see him - but that was a long time ago," or as long as a 'long time ago' can be for weyrlings less than a turn old.

Quinlys' nod is minute, barely there. She blows a breath out from her cheeks, lengthily, and then says. "The important thing is that you didn't let her hurt Olveraeth. She's allowed to be angry; we're all allowed to get angry, from time to time. It's when we let our anger take control, and let it make us do things we shouldn't; that's when there's a problem." She pauses, considering for a moment. "Would it help if you could try and channel her anger into non-physical means?"

N'ky runs his fingers through his hair, nodding in response to the question. "Yes, ma'am. I think... yes. But I, um, d-don't know how? Or what to f-focus it towards." He runs through his hair again, chewing thoughtfully on his lip - the side of it this time, not where the red mark remains in the centre. "Hraedhyth gets, um, angry, I think? Of all the dragons, I think Hraedhyth is m-most similar to Cailluneth... how does Azaylia handle it?"

"Why don't you talk to Azaylia, and find out how she deals with it?" prompts Quinlys, though she has a moment of hesitation, too. "If she has time. I imagine things are quite... complicated at the moment." This may be an understatement. "I don't have any direct experience with it, myself. I think it might help to try and work things out between you: find something you both care about that you can both focus on. A happy place. That way, you can try and reinforce each other. Lock all the negative thoughts and feelings up into their own box, and focus on something else."

"If she has time," N'ky agrees. "Um... Cailluneth has a... place, that she built with Kazavoth. It's k-kinda like an island? Would that work?" Fingers scratch at his cast, trying, no doubt, to satisfy an itch beneath the plaster and bandages. "Or she has her bubble. She puts up her bubble when, um, I'm hurt or -- it's a protective thing. Like a shield, I guess? Like now. I could try and get her to put that up, quicker?"

Quinlys is visibly thoughtful, though her nod is prompt enough. "I think either of those would work," she confirms. "You can try putting that bubble up yourself-- see if she can teach you how. Even if you start to do it, the pair of you can use that as a cue: it starts to go up, and she finishes it, and focuses her energy there, instead of on her anger. It's worth a try, at least."

"I, um, c-can't afford for it to not work," N'ky says wryly, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm going to be paying for the ewes for a long time." He snorts softly, looking down at his toes briefly. "We can p-practice it, ma'am, but will it be the same as testing it? When it's really needed, I mean? Because I, um... I d-don't want to get into situations that'll upset her, if I can help it."

There is more sympathy in Quinlys' expression, now, though she's careful to control it: she won't let it overtake anything else. "No," she admits. "It won't be. What I will do is ask a few people to intentionally rile her, or you, without warning. It's still controlled circumstances, and you'll still know, I'm sure, that it's not real... but if it comes without warning then it's a little closer to real. After each time, we can discuss how it went, and see what we can do to improve your reactions, the next time. How's that?"

"That sounds good, I guess." N'ky agrees at least that it's the best way to test it, but he doesn't look exactly enthusiastic. "I don't want her to hurt anyone. She d-doesn't get upset often, but...but when she does-" quick change of topic, that leaves the greenrider blushing; "What about when she... she rises? When she's proddy? How will... I mean, I w-won't know what she'll be like, and... h-how can I control her? Wh-what if I do it wrong?"

Quinlys lifts a hand, running it through the dark red waves of her hair, and allows, "It's not going to be easy or comfortable, I know that. But you won't let her hurt anyone... and if there's any risk of that, we'll make sure that Hraedhyth or Iesaryth is aware, in case they need to intervene." She exhales again, eyes closing for a moment. Finally, "We'll work on that, too. You won't do it wrong. You're both going to be fine. But right now... I suggest you go and look after Cailluneth, right now. We'll have another talk in a few days, and try and work on some of that then, all right?"

"Yes ma'am." N'ky nods once more, giving Quinlys a smile that, while crooked, causes one of his dimples to show. "I'll practice with her, ma'am. But I, um, I th-think she might just need a bit of c-cuddle time now." He blushes, smiling as he looks back down at his feet, peeking back up with a mumbled little, "It's a bit h-harder now she's so big." Eying the door again, he takes his hand from his pocket and stands a little straighter. "Thank you for your help, Weyrlingmaster. P-please let me know when, um, you want us again?" He knows she will, of course, and now he's twitchy enough to want to leave immediately; outside, Cailluneth stands, crowding the door to wait for him. "I'll... I'll see you later? Have a good day, ma'am."

"Of course," says Quinlys, nodding towards the door. "Look after her. I'm not surprised." If there's more she'd like to say, she holds off on it, for now: one more nod, and this one is very much like a farewell. "Look after yourselves. I'll see you tomorrow, N'ky." She will stay in the barracks a while longer.

While he breaks into a trot to go to his lifemate; Olveraeth will likely be able to see N'ky's awkward one-handed climb up her straps, before the green takes off and wings them away through the fog.