Difference between revisions of "Logs:Losing"

"Sleep with the Weyrwoman. Move forward 5 spaces."

A few of the weyrlings are sitting on the floor of the barracks, playing a home-made board game with crude pieces. They've got blankets spread out and bedraggled, worn out pillows for support. Instead of enjoying the nice weather outside, they're busy pulling cards, counting spaces.

"Aw! Man! Grounded by your Wingleader, skip a turn," one of the green weyrlings mutters after pulling her card, throwing it down with a huff.

V'ros lets his hand hover over the deck of cards, annoying his fellow players. He takes his time in drawing out one card, looking surprised by the results. "Caught red handed stealing the Headwoman's panties, go back 2 spaces. That's ridiculous." But he's quick to move his wooden pawn back the requisite spaces, under the scrutinizing stares of the others.

« You're losing, » Zmeyth inserts with a brush of raspy voice and curling smoke.

Yeah. I am. It's not always about winning.

« It is. Always about winning. »

Sometimes, it's about having fun, Zmeyth.

There's a bang - substitute for a doubtful snort. « Look, kid, I have a better idea. »

That would be.. ?

« I've been thinking I need something for my couch.. I saw one of those blues had a nice blanket, what about that? »

What's wrong with what you have now?

"Yeesss, your dragon flies the senior queen, congrats, you're the new Weyrleader! Move forward 8 spaces!" A happy whoop follows, amidst groans and swears.

« It's boring. I don't do boring. »

Ok. So, you want a blanket? I can get one from the stores.

Amusement tinges the smoke red. « The stores? You expect me to sleep on someone's old, ratty blanket? No. »

I don't know what you want. I don't have any marks.

« You'll think of a way, I know it. I know everything. »

Silence reigns between the bond.

"You fall off your dragon and break your arm. Move back 1 space. Damn."

« Do something for me, I'll do something for you."

Now 'that' catches the weyrling's attention, his head jerking around to regard the brown, who is curled up on his couch.

Like what?

« V'ros, you have 'got' to learn to trust me. I've got your best interests in mind. »

V'ros doesn't seem too sure. What if what I want isn't what you want?

« We can negotiate terms. »

Negotiate? That's new. I'll.. I'll think about it.

« You got it. »

"You catch a case of the dragon pox.. and die. The end," V'ros mumbles as he reads his card. Oh well.

"Maybe next time, V'ros," one boy to his left says, nudging him in the ribs.

"Yeah.. right. Next time."