Difference between revisions of "Logs:Old and Infirm"

Meetings often take up a good deal of K'del's day; a necessary evil. This many turns into the Interval, reports from the dragonhealers take less time than they might have done, but there's usually something to report on, even so. "So he won't be making it back into the wings," K'del muses, lips pushing together for a few long seconds, as he leans back in his chair, the front legs lifting slightly off of the ground as he balances out his weight. "That's more and more of them. Sleet's getting full." And some of the 'fighting' wings, empty.

A necessary evil that U'sot increasingly foists off on his chosen minion. The Weyrleader has a ground weyr. It's not winter, to be so harsh on the man's joints. And yet. There's Leova, whose terse nod confirms it. She's got her elbows on the table. "Only so many spots to stand watch. Only so many as don't have stairs and stairs and stairs to the fireheights. Guess that's what we get," her half-smile's all black humor, "for getting the jump on Fall."

K'del's, "Mmm," is dry, half-amused, half-sighing. "Imagine a few more'll request transfer down south, before winter comes. Not sure how many they'll accept, but there it is. At least the heat'll make it easier for those old bones to keep going." His hands flex, muscles stretched this way and that; one hand, and then the other. "Probably end up merging some wings, eventually, but that's neither here nor there."

"Aye." That movement of his hands, that draws her amber gaze. "That'll put new life in 'em, all a-tizzy." It's wry to his dry. Leova says, then, "Don't take a rider to get joint-ail, but we do get it uncommon much. Stretches only do so much. Wondered a few things, about that." Things to do.

"All that time spent in the air," supposes K'del, but it's only a half-guess; it's said with a shrug, too, the kind that implies he's likely to leave that kind of diagnosis to the healers, where possible. "Wondered?" he prompts, then, the feet of his chair returning to the ground as he straightens, interested. Both hands, now, rest upon the edge of the table.

"Twisting, jolting, cold, all of that." Briefly. Less so, but steadily so, "Better access to ground weyrs, have to start with that." Leova pushes her thumb into her palm, the one so heavily networked with those thin silver scars. "Don't know as everyone who has them needs them, hm? Could be, some could have ground access that don't. Could be, some from the inside even. Would think that they'd have tunneled through by now, if they could, but don't know."

K'del opens his mouth to answer, and then pauses, his expression turned thoughtful as-- presumably-- he mulls over this information. "It's worth considering," he allows. "Though that would be the weyrwoman's area, not mine." Is that wryness there again, over that stricter division of labour? "Certainly something we can look into, though. Make a stricter habit of keeping those weyrs for those who need 'em."

There's a slight lift and fall to one shoulder, a diagonal one-cornered smile. Leova says, "We'd broach it with her, come to that." But. "Thought about seeing as we could get more postings, those who'd take them. Complicated, though. You know how dragons like the heights, especially the crotchety ones, but they're the same as what's a pain for their riders. And." It's a short pause. A subtle shift in her voice. "They get lonely."

A careful, thoughtful, incline to K'del's chin, this time. "Cadejoth still spends more time on the rim than his own ledge," he acknowledges. "He misses a ledge high up. And there's pride, too, for some of them. If it seems like a 'you're old so you get this' kind of a deal." Beat. "Remind me never to get old, Leova, mmm? Except not like that."

"Aye." Pride. Then there's that beat, and Leova laughs, low and easier. "No. Not any of that. Just the good way. When the healers come up with it... or the vintners? ...they'll be carving their own marks."

K'del's own laugh is warm, now, and his expression easier. "Mm," he agrees. "I look forward to it. Reckon I'll be glad to give them my marks. But," another nod of his head, "It all is what it is. In the meantime, we've got to look after them. And we will, one way or another."

She tips him a nod in return. "Part of it's keeping the, hm. The vitality. What you said, pride: maybe not all of 'em want to be useful, but they like their comrades all in all. Used to it. Changing that, changes a lot. You know we've been looking at how riders affect dragons, dragons affect riders, more and more as time goes by."

K'del simmers down to seriousness again, now, though not in the sense of concern; rather, he seems thoughtful, his nod slower and more considering. "Can't just tell a person they're no longer needed; good job, well done, now go away, we'll continue on without you. It's much more difficult. Could be we just let them stay in their wings, but without the duties... something to consider, in any case." Those hands flex, again. "Balancing act, all of it."

"Tell them that, and they drown in the nearest rum." This time, the half-smile's more rueful. "Last thing on that for now: what do you think about more organized exercise?" Leova asks. "Not so much laps, but stretching. Flexibility. That sort of thing: prevent falls if we can, and all that likes to follow after." Her smile deepens. "Ask the healers to work on them more with massage and the like, help circulation, go for preventative over acute. Call it a reward."

K'del's consideration, for that, is obvious; his tongue runs over his upper teeth, his nose sucks in a breath. "Solid plan," is his response, when it comes. "Long as you can convince 'em-- though the reward, yes, that'd help. Not just 'we want to look after you' but-- well, you know it. Sound like something you'd work with the healers on? Discuss with?"

In no hurry, is Leova. Nor is she urging. She takes that answer, when it does come, with much the same acceptance that she might if it had been otherwise. With the sort of half-smile that recognizes all the work that comes along with it. With, "Aye. Will bring in the acting Weyrwoman if it comes to needing resources, will spare you that for now, hm?" Unless K'del really wants to hear, says the upturned corner to her smile.

"Appreciate that," answers K'del, not without that upturned corner of his mouth, for all that his expression is largely cheerful. "You've my blessing, in any case. Put it in writing if you need. But... If that's all for now? Not to hurry you out, or suggest I'm not interested in progress-- I'll want to hear-- but F'der's on his way in next, and..." His shoulders roll back. He stretches. Meetings, and too many of them.

'And...' "Vrianth and Literath are conferring," Leova says, deadpan. "No, appreciate it. Nothing that won't wait." She stretches, up and out, adding a salute before departing to her dragon and blue skies: skies so blue and clear, they haven't a cloud or a meeting in sight.