Difference between revisions of "Logs:Butchering Pep Talk"

>---< Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#392RJLs) >----------------<

 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. 

 +views available 

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------

 Faryn F 22 5'4" lean, brown hair, brown eyes 0s 

 K'zin M 24 6'1" muscled, brown hair, brown eyes 55s

Ostensibly, a fortnight after hatching is around the time when weyrlings must learn to juggle emotional demands and assigned tasks. So far, buckets of fresh meat have been delivered to the barracks by some nameless and faceless entity, providing a constant meal for the ravenous little dragons, but today is different. Today, a senior apprentice arrive not silent and unobtrusive, wheeling along a cart with a porcine carcass atop it. Faryn stops the cart just inside the cavern, hesitating, frowning at the huge cavern, at the furnishings, at the emblems on the wall. She looks...slightly lost, very uncomfortable, in limbo between the center of the room and the exit to the bowl, like she might just dart back out.

K'zin's approach isn't silent, though it's not overly noisy. He approaches from the same way she just came and means to stop beside her, "Since you bring offerings, they probably won't eat you," his baritone is bland, as if it's not a joke, but a glance at his face shows a half-encouraging half-sympathetic half-smile to complement the obvious sleep-deprivation colors under his brown eyes. "Mad at me?" is his quiet follow-up.

Judging by how she's moved the cart to the wall and is turning towards the exit, Faryn's decision was to bolt. Unfortunately for her, K'zin is there now, and the look on her face betrays the answer to his question, or maybe it's what prompts him to ask in the first place. She's pretty mad, or something that's very close kin. Even so, she forces the corners of her mouth to curve up at his first comment. "No," she says, softly, then, "Not at you."

"At them?" K'zin queries, nodding his head slightly in the general direction of the weyrlings. "Or just the dragons?"

Faryn shifts her gaze to the barracks, shrugging. "Everything," she finally decides, turning back. "I...didn't really want to be right, you know. All that 'extraordinary lives' stuff. I'd like it to be that easy."

K'zin's expression holds a touch of sympathy, but mostly just good active listening that must have been taught him by some woman along the way. "Sucks when it's not," he agrees. He clears his throat, his cheeks touching with blush. "Rasavyth wanted to be Weyrleader. Like, since the shell broke. That's never worked out for him. It's never been that easy," which is probably meant to say that while K'zin doesn't exactly have comparable life experience, his lifemate seems to have, sort of.

"Yeah," Faryn says softly, looking him up and down. "He still has time, though. He might still get it. Cadejoth will get old, some day." She sighs, glancing at her porcine, back at K'zin. "I'll get over it. I promise. The hope is just contagious. And months, now, of getting along and getting to know them," a vague wave for the weyrlings, punctuated by an abrupt snap, "gone down another path."

"I only wanted to be Weyrleader briefly," K'zin tells Faryn with a shrug, "In my misguided youth. I think we do better here, to be honest." There's a hand to gesture in the barracks. "You know, it may be for the best," he tries, "sometimes taking a different path gives you more life experience. And look at it this way, you can go wherever you like, kiss whoever you like, do whatever you like," within reason, "while they're all stuck with rules and regulations. And if you Stand again, you might find the next bunch better to your liking. This group..." K'zin feigns a dubious expression toward the barracks, as though he has some serious doubts, but he's got a lopsided smile a moment later so%2