Difference between revisions of "Logs:Question and Answer"

It's still early for dinner, really, which is probably why the table Jasper tends to gravitate towards is largely unoccupied - with the notable exception of N'dalis, who is lingering over some out-of-regular-dining-hours stew. The greenrider's still tousled from the windy afternoon, though the color is beginning to fade from his cheeks as he warms himself with that stew and the klah that's in his mug besides.

Candidate chores in the Storerooms lead to Lilah's exit from the kitchen rather than entering the living cavern another way, the slip of a woman a silent, quiet thing where the grey of a Dice uniform lends to her blending into the background with the drudges. Today, however, her gaze catches on N'dalis, her path averting at seeing the greenrider. "You're N'dalis, right?" she questions as she gets to the table, unslinging the bag from her shoulder to set it down on the bench across from him. "The junior weyrwoman assigned me to talk to you."

N'dalis' nod answers that first question promptly, his brows raising into a question that's more-or-less answered by Lilah's further explanation. "Did she?" he says, though the inflection he gives to those words makes it just barely a question. There's still a faint darkness about one of his eyes, bruising that has not quite faded entirely. "I'm going to guess that it was about something in particular, and not just... 'talk to Dal, he's lonely and needs company.'"

A smile twitches at Lilah's lips for the response, though she counters, "I'm shit at company, so I think if she were doing that, she'd find someone better." She slides into the seat across from him without asking for permission, though she adds as an afterthought, "Lilah. I think we met at Dice." That, paired with the white Candidate knot on her shoulder might be all he needs to know of her. "No, she wants me to talk to you about weyrlinghood and write a report on it, so that I will know what I'm completely not prepared for."

"And we Stood together," remembers Dal, "though I don't remember you all that well from then. We've never spoken properly, I don't think." He sets down his spoon, regarding her thoughtfully across the table. "I'm not sure anyone is ever properly prepared for weyrlinghood," he adds, thoughtfully. "Well. Not for Impression, and that's kind of the big issue. I also wasn't prepared to have the roof of the barracks fall on me, but again... what is it you need to know, in particular?"

"She wasn't more specific than the first couple of months of weyrlinghood," Lilah answers, reaching to pull hide and ink from her bag and smooth it in front of her. One has to wonder how often she walks around with those, ready to take notes. "But, since the point of the exercise is to remind me that weyrlings go without sleep, and are busy and overworked and--. Well, I imagine that is what she wants me to focus on. How much did your dragon sleep those first few months? How often did you?"

N'dalis' expression is fond, abruptly, the way it so often is when he's talking about his dragon; smiles for other people are so much rarer. "Not a lot," he admits. "And in... bursts. Chunks. It's like having a newborn baby, except that she could tell me when she was hungry, or uncomfortable, or tired. And no diapers. Honestly, to begin with, you sleep when they do, because you know they'll be up in a few hours and you /can't/ just hand them over to someone else. There isn't anyone else. And everything is new - it's a blur." And yet he sounds terribly nostalgic.

"What do you have to do for them when they're up? Feed them, I know, but how often? How long does it take?" Lilah presses, her pen touching hide to scrawl quick, neat notes against its surface even as dark eyes lift often to watch N'dalis.

"As often as they're hungry," answers Dal, without a pause. "Every couple of hours, at the very beginning. Can you imagine, being up every two or three hours to feed?" And yet, he's still very nearly smiling. "As they got older, they need to feed less often, and can actually eat meat directly off a carcass instead of hand-fed by meat you've cut yourself. But it still takes time. They also need to be oiled after meals, because they're growing so fast. And washed. And, of course, they can't go /between/ to... relieve themselves."

Lilah's nose wrinkles, slightly, and her words have humor in them where she interjects, "So you're literally picking up shit." She writes it down, however. "And there's lessons? How do they do lessons when the dragons need to eat so often?"

Very seriously: "Yes." Dal pauses for a moment, and then adds, "Of course, they're not like human babies: it isn't as though they just stop and go anywhere, for the most part. But given their diet..." It cannot smell very nice. At all. "The lessons don't really start immediately. Just the care and feeding type ones, things that can't wait. By the time they're a month old or so, things settle down a little."

"Is there anything else you are supposed to be doing? Just caring for the dragon, making sure that it's fed and cleaned and oiled?" Lilah questions to make sure she has everything, running her gaze over her notes to check. "No chores, other than seeing to your dragon? Do you ever get time away from them in that first month? Time to do--other things?"

"Not at first," says Dal, shaking his head. "At first... time away from them?" He'd started to answer the rest, but that last question has him /staring/ at Lilah, outright, as his head shakes: no, no, no. "When they're awake, you're with them. That's it. When they're asleep... you eat, you do what you absolutely have to, but mostly, you just want to sleep. You don't have time or brain space for anything else. I barely even thought about my own son, at first. It was just... Su. Always Su."

Lilah makes a small noise of acknowledgement, avoiding N'dalis's stare by virtue of needing to write down the greenrider's words on her hide. "But then it calms, and you start lessons at a month? How often do they sleep then? Are they with you at lessons?" she questions.

N'dalis picks up his spoon again, finally, and chews at another bite of his stew before answering Lilah's next question. He's still giving her a cautious, frankly dubious, kind of glance, and the hand that isn't holding the spoon has snuck down to his lap. His fingers are twisting and twitching, though at least they're hidden. "It calms," he confirms. "A little. They need less feeding, and so they sleep more, instead. You have lessons while they're asleep, often. Later, you have lessons /with/ them. But it's still... weyrlinghood isn't just a job. It's your whole life."

Whatever Lilah is writing, she underlines something, circles something else, for all that her notes are practically word for word. "Anything else I missed, those first few months? Are you expected to do chores, anything like that?" she presses on, either ignoring or not catching that dubious look she receives.

For a few seconds, Dal is silent - watchful, considering, and utterly silent. "It's not the physical bits that you need to worry about, Lilah," he says, finally. "Not the day-to-day. That's not what you should be thinking about. Have you wondered what it would be like, having another voice in your head? Another life that is completely dependent on you? Weyrlinghood's not about chores or lessons or requirements, not to start with. Impression isn't something to... to just... it's not like that."

"And yet you already said that you can't prepare for it," counters Lilah simply, her gaze finally lifting to focus on N'dalis, soft, dark eyes unreadable where they study the greenrider. "That is what everyone says, and yet you expect us to, what? Spend time thinking about something that we can't prepare for or comprehend? Why do that when my energy is better spent on doing the things I /can/ do, like the reports I was assigned."

Instead of directly answering Lilah's remarks, Dal exhales. Then, "Are you ready for your entire life to change? For /everything/ to change? There's no going back, if you Impress. It's an always-and-forever kind of proposition. If it's not something you /absolutely/ want, you shouldn't Stand. If it's not something you can live with, happily, for the rest of your life, regardless of what kind of dragon you might Impress, you shouldn't Stand. No, you can't prepare for it, not really. But you can make absolutely sure it's something you're ready for."

"I know there's no going back, N'dalis. There is no back for me. I am absolutely prepared to Impress, and prepared to be happy with that for the rest of my life," answers Lilah, the weight of her words serious as she straightens, tucking a red-gold lock of hair behind her ear as she does so. "I'm not a sixteen-year-old Candidate who hasn't thought this through, and this isn't my first time. Why do dragonriders feel it is necessary to talk down to anyone who decides to Stand?"

"Not anyone. Not /everyone/. Just people who seem to be missing the point. I very much doubt Ali's asking you to write a report on daily minutiae of early weyrlinghood," answers Dal, very simply, as he sets down his spoon. "But I think you have what you need from me, now, for the report you seem to intend to write. I need to go and collect my son."

Lilah's lips flatten into a line, her teeth tightening together as she bites back whatever she might want to say to the other greenrider. But then, there are still the rules of Candidacy to follow, even if she has barely skirted the idea of respecting everyone above her. She adds a sharp, brief, "Sir." And she excuses him by gathering her things and shoving them back in her bag, picking up her own things to walk away even where N'dalis seems to intend to as well.

N'dalis doesn't answer - except in the way he gives a sharp nod to the candidate. Despite what he's said, he takes his time in clearing his things up, as if to make absolutely sure that Lilah is gone before he is.