Difference between revisions of "Logs:Standards"

For all that the hatching happened in the morning, yesterday was pretty much a wash for most weyrlings: a quick trip to the festivities, maybe some sleep, more feeding and oiling, and more sleeping again. It's now the following morning, bright and early, and for the second day in a row, the Weyrlingmaster is hanging around at the front of a room, watching with an appraising eye as the first of her charges begin to wake. Things are ready for them: tubs of oil, buckets of meat, paddles and cloths. Food for the weyrlings, too, for those who'd rather not stray too far.

Jo is not one to waste too much time on sleep. She's up before her dragon starts to stir, busying herself with her backpack while keeping an eye on those near her. M'ron and Kaitlin chose couches close to hers, and with the exception of one already Kaitlin was getting up with a yawn and looking about. Jo passes her a non-commital nod in greeting before the Weyrlingmaster gets her attention - dark eyes fall on tubs of oil and buckets of meat, and it's in that that Tacuseth rouses from his deep sleep and sends thoughts her way. Shooting a glance his way before she drops what she was doing, "Mornin'," she sends Meara's way, getting to her feet and slowly approaching her to get a closer look at what she's brought.

"Jolie, isn't it?" Meara's got a knowing sort of smile for the weyrling. "And Tacuseth. He'll be hungry: get him fed and oiled, and then you can grab something for yourself. Though," and she indicates, with a bob of her head, "if you need klah to get yourself up in the morning, you can grab some of that, first." For all that she addresses Jolie directly, the rest of her words are pitched higher, encouraging those who /are/ up and ready to come forward. "We'll start a stricter schedule from tomorrow, so make the most of the freedom, today. There will be /bells/." It's a little ominous, despite her smile.

"Ya can call me Jo if ya want," Jolie puts in when she hears her name, her eyes still lingering on the buckets. When her gaze falls on the Weyrlingmaster then, "Need something laced in my klah to get -me- up proper," she notes, seeming rather bold to admit her taste for whiskey but she doesn't look all that apologetic. Nodding towards the meat buckets, "I'll feed him first so he won't have me goin' crazy with hunger," she adds, just as some of the other weyrlings start approaching them with groggy expressions on their faces. They all seem to pause at the mention of stricter schedules, even Jolie - grabbing up a bucket for herself, "How strict?" she just couldn't help but to ask, finding that Kaitlin is grabbing a bucket with her and passing her a long mutual look.

There's sympathy in Meara's expression for the mention of /laced/ klah, though a firm shake of her head does a lot to indicate that there will be no softening of that restriction under /her/ watch. She hangs back, bobbing her head at each weyrling in turn as they approach, apparently content to oversee the process from above, as it were. "Strict enough. You'll be up at six, and your hours will be timetabled from there for most of the day. Caring for the little ones, exercises, lectures-- exams, next month. There's a lot to learn. A lot to /do/. Nari-- /slowly/. Don't feed her it all at once."

Jolie collects her bucket and, for the moment, looks rather resigned to the fact that there's to be no laced klah for her for a long time to come. Kaitlin snorts at the look she sees before she's off to her little brown, then more weyrlings start to crowd in to get their buckets as well. "Exercises, lectures," Jo's echoing that, still lingering for just a moment longer. "Exams?" - "On what?" M'ron pipes in, coming alongside Jo to get his share of the meat for his green.

Meara's helping Nari feed her green, one handful at a time, but after turns of experience, this doesn't seem to take all of her attention, because without even glancing up she explains, "Oh, pretty much everything, really. Reading, writing, arithmetic and history. We need to know where you all are, so we can get you up to scratch. You're High Reaches dragonriders, now: there are standards." Apparently, Nari is getting the hang of it, now, because Meara stands again, glancing around.

M'ron screws up his face, sending Jolie a look at Meara's answer. "Oh," is all he says, probably not having anything else to answer to so he turns and heads off back to his green. Jo, on the other hand, actually pauses to consider the answer given with furrowed brows before she herself turns and makes her way back to a fully awake blue dragonet. Tacuseth is ready to be fed, clearly, the blue nudging her in the middle with open impatience. She sets the bucket down and gestures for the little blue to hop off the couch, "Yer crazy if ya think I'ma let ya eat where ya sleep," she tells him, purposefully moving the bucket of scraps away with a booted foot in order to entice him to move. She'll wait like that all day if she has to, though Tac is far too hungry to play games. He's off the couch with a little awkward hop, then he hobbles over right as she bends to pull up a few meat scraps just for him. To Meara, "And what kind of standards are we dragonriders suppose to uphold?" she's asking now in a drawl, a small sardonic inflection possibly evident in her tone though for the most part it stays neutral. Kaitlin has taken to feeding her brown right next to her and Tac now, her own gaze falling on the weyrlingmaster with interest while she feeds.

"You're representatives of the weyr wherever you go," says Meara, promptly. "Which means, you will act with decorum, and be up to any reasonable task that is required of you." Her gaze is meaningful; it's extended from one face to the next, one after another. /Most/ of the weyrlings give her a solemn nod, as though they find this some sacred duty. "In the meantime, you're also going to keep this place clean, so it looks like Jo has the idea of it: no feeding in couches. Which you will keep tidy, too, by the way; there /will/ be inspections."

Tacuseth has settled far from his couch and grabs at the scraps of meat being held out hungrily. Meanwhile, "Almost sounds like home," Kaitlin is leaning over and muttering dryly for Jolie's ears only, the look she sends being a meaningful to suggest that the 'home' she's talking about is a mutual one between the two. Jo says nothing at all on her part, though she returns the significant look before turning back to her focus on feeding and oiling her Tacuseth before she herself can get some food and start her day.