Difference between revisions of "Logs:Square Pegs..."

Seaside Hold Tavern, Southern Continent
On the tip of the Southern Peninsula sits a tiny fishing hold. While the population isn't exactly large, their dockside activity is bustling. There are a number of small taverns that sit along it, catering to sailors and traders. Some of the more run down establishments tend to a rougher crowd. This particular building isn't great but it's not the worst of the lot. The floor is dirty and the lights are dim, but only one out of every 3rd person looks as if they might steal all our marks. Poker is played nightly, drinks are freely flowing and the women- well. You know.

It's after drills, shadowing the wings, and finishing up with the extra rounds of private flame drills that a soot faced Edyis suggests drinks in the south to celebrate progress well made. The bar chosen one that's a little rougher perhaps than usual but the drinks are decent and Edyis is grinning as she leads the way in, grabbing a table and ordering a round of drinks, "What's your poision?" She asks of T'mic before ordering and paying. Akluseth takes advantage of the nearness of the ocean to manage impromptu swimming some ways away from the hold, inviting his blue brother to join.

T'mic has been a senior weyrling long enough to at least look a little more at home in Pern's various watering holes, though when Edyis asks him, still he shrugs and suggests simply, "Just like a pale beer I guess." Jorrth is happy to explore the waters - happier still to do so in the presence of Akluseth, whose take on them is so much different from his own. T'mic leans an elbow on the table, unthinking of manners, and scratches a bit at a part of his hair flattened earlier by riding gear. A deep breath, and then he can do that easy grin that's so much his style.

Edyis grins to his answer and while the pitcher and glasses are being brought. "Hard to believe it's almost over isn't it?" She asks her smile half crooked as she pours the first glasses once the pitcher arrives sliding one over in a practiced motion. "Thank you, again for the extra help. I know you two have a lot on your plate with Wingleading, so I appreciate the time you've spent working with us." As for Akluseth, he's diving down and resurfacing with a greenish tangle in his teeth, flinging it in his brother's direction « Catch! »

"I think," says T'mic, earnestly, even though his brow is furrowed because he's concentrating on the glass that he's reaching for, "it's 'cause of that sort of thing that Quinlys picked us. We'll always do it," comes with one of those big-shouldered shrugs, while he raises his glass, in semblance of a toast, though to what he doesn't seem to know, and then sips. Jorrth is still only so deep that he can touch. He leans forward to look at that greenish thing when it arrives... and, moving closer, gets it into his mouth. To taste. Hmm.

Edyis grins, "Probably. I don't claim to know her mind on things; nor do I have to really." She joins that toast, and then there's a long pull from her mug as she then sets it between her hands studying the bluerider thoughtfully. "Something on your mind or just don't want to spill?" Glancing at his mug.

"Don't want to spill," T'mic confirms with a nod, once his glass is safely resettled on the table. "Been doing some straps work. Finishing touches, you know, now Jorrth's got muscle to go with the rest. And then some extra work for something in the weyr, and then all this," a vague wave toward where the dragons are, more or less. "Forearms are tired is all."

The twist of her lips and the smirk that follows his last bit might be hard to miss. "Straps, sure." But the friendly tease relaxes some into something more natural. "Hard to believe they have grown so much, he's pretty solid for a blue isn't he?" She tilts her head, "Remodeling? I don't think I've seen anyone else's weyr other than Keysi's."

"Oh? No, it just... it came with this rock," says T'mic, "on the fireplace, and I want to put it into this hoop, but with leather sort of woven through it? You ever seen those things. Traders have them lots," which sort of makes him make a strange face. "We used to do them when we were kids. Only I think this one is gonna be bigger than that." As to his weyr: "You should come see it, then. Jorrth likes visitors." More than the taste of seaweed, as it happens.

Edyis furrows her brow thinking, "You mean like the nets with feathers on them, supposed to catch bad dreams or something?" She tilts her head, "Or do you mean a mobile, those things they put above nursery cradles sometimes with shapes or animals spinning around gently?" She tilts her head then, "Did you come from a trader family, or just travel alot, before you were everyone's favorite nanny that is." « I think I saw fish out a little deeper. Those taste way better. Too many tiny bones though. »

T'mic nods, reaching for his beer again, though he doesn't yet lift it. "They're not just supposed to. They work." The nod to follow is one of certainty, earned by personal experience. "No. We were just in Benden, but traders came through there, of course. Picked up some of the not-vintner wine and stuff, sold some stuff, traded, moved on. Mostly we'd just look, but it was fun anyway. Seeing everything from all over, right at home." « But they're little bones. What if you just swallowed them whole? » Jorrth has experienced fish, in part via T'mic, now they can travel around.

« It tickles if you don't crunch them first. They like to wiggle on the way down. » The brown offers, coming back into the shore to sprawl on the beach to dry for a bit. "Never got to try one, though, if you know how to make them maybe we can trade skills sometime, I can paint. I've got some hides drying that are almost ready to be worked on."

"Yeah, I guess." Now, he does lift the beer. Now, he drinks. "My family's been doing them since forever, we all grew up with it... Or I guess you could get one from a trader, too." He closes his eyes for a moment, though still seems to be looking. Just... not at anything here. "I don't know if there's anything in the weyr I'd even paint. We were thinking about getting some things. Maybe to hang on these hooks. They were probably for like a curtain or something before, but we don't need that, really." « Tickles, » repeats Jorrth. Hmm, again.

Edyis laughs, "It isn't just about the things you need some things are just about making the place feel yours. Like, I have some wine and liquor bottles I collected over the course of a few turns filled with glows and hanging from the ceiling. I don't need them, but they are pretty to look at and make the place sorta interesting to me I guess." She lifts a shoulder, "Friend of mine has maps hung all over hers."

"Well yeah, but that's the thing. I mean... it's got Jorrth." He shrugs, the rest seeming, to him, self-explanatory. There's one of those honeymoon's-still-not-over smiles on his face, when he leans back in his chair, and raises that glass again, for a longer drink. The dreamcatcher of his goes unmentioned, even if it's adornment. Maybe the fact that the stone was already there makes it different. Or maybe, T'mic's just too busy being content with things.

Edyis laughs, "So he hasn't managed to make your life incredibly awkward yet I take it? Lucky." She almost singsongs, but it's relaxed laughter. "You decided which two wings you want to shadow yet?"

T'mic returns a bit from his reverie, to consider that. "Well, not saying that. But just 'cause sometimes it's awkward doesn't mean that he's not still home." Then, a shake of his head. "Really, any of them. Mostly I've been worried about you guys." A sip brings a bit more thought, and he muses, "Snowdrift could be okay. Or Avalanche, maybe. How about you guys?"

"True enough." She answers with a knowing twist of her mouth. The concern draws a slight lift of her brow. "I don't think we will be anyone's first pick, but someone will end up taking us on." She thinks on it some and frowns, "Probably Glacier and still making up my mind on the second."

Edyis' take on it makes T'mic frown a little bit. "But," is careful, thoughtful, "have you thought of where you think Akluseth would fit in best?"

The former scribe frowns faintly. "I don't know where we would fit in best. I've thought about it; I just don't have an answer for that." And it's what isn't said here that says more perhaps, but she's lifting her mug and taking another pull. "I figure the wingleaders know what they want, know what will work with their set up. I don't have any say in it so what's the point in worrying?"

"I don't think it's about worrying," says T'mic, "so much as about really thinking about what you both have to offer. Your strengths and weaknesses, you know? Like," and here he leans forward again, "Snowdrift, for me and Jorrth, 'cause they do search and rescue and that sort of thing. You need a team, you need a good eye, and Jorrth, he's good with both of those. And Avalanche, I've heard they do lots of all-around drills. Practice like the old days. That's good to know."

Looking to her glass instead of the blue rider. "We don't have anything to offer," And from the quietness with which she says it, this is probably the first time she's admitted it out loud. "He's good at the physical side of things but lacks focus. Me, I've got a good memory and a knack for book work, but terrible people skills. We can do drills sure, but it isn't something we can really put our hearts into, not the way Keysi does. I mean you've seen her it just lights up everything she is..." She seems ready to say more but stops opting to drink instead. "Don't see that we fit anywhere. Not anymore at least."

T'mic stays leaned forward, propping his head on his hand. He's good at listening, is T'mic. So good he forgets his beer, at least for the time being. "So then what are you guys good at, that you put your hearts into?"

"We aren't good at anything yet." She frowns, "Other than getting into trouble. That we are very good at," poor patient T'mic, his questions just draw more frustration. "We like to travel, to explore, to see new things, to meet new people, just learn different things. That sort of shit doesn't translate into a wing."

"We aren't good at anything yet." She frowns, "Other than getting into trouble. That we are very good at," poor patient T'mic, his questions just draw more frustration. "We like to travel, to explore, to see new things, to meet new people, just learn different things. That sort of shit doesn't translate into a wing." She runs a hand over her scalp, with a frustrated sigh. "It's part of why we shadow right? To figure out where we fit, or have someone figure it out for us."

"So look into some of the less traditional wings. Savannah does... I don't know what they do, but I know they don't do what others do in the same way. Or any of the ones that do more interval-type duties. Maybe even talk to some wingleaders about doing a little more shadowing. With lots of different ones, right?" Now, the beer is remembered, and sipped, though not with any great enthusiasm. "Don't fight it by just saying you're bad at everything, though."

"Savannah doesn't want us." She answers, all too quickly. "But that's the idea, we aren't even halfway through shadowing the wings yet. I'm sure one of them will click; I just have no idea which one yet. If they don't, we get assigned to one, and we work on fitting. That's all there is to it." And it's with more muted frustration that she finally just asks, "Why is it when I do have an answer I am a conceited insufferable know it all. When I don't; it's I'm fighting the system? I know we are bad at everything, fuck if I didn't care or wasn't trying would I bother with the extra flame drills?" She shakes a hand through her hair roughly.

T'mic wasn't really expecting it, that last part. He has his glass held up in front of him, and it stays there, hovering ahead of his chest, like as if it could serve as a shield. "I didn't say you were either of those things," is soft, careful. "And it's not the system, it's you guys, if it's anything." So careful. But those brown eyes are deeply serious, if also concerned.

It's the defensive gesture perhaps that has her draining her mug and refilling it, taking a deep breath in and out. "Sorry, I know you are just trying to help it's just...Gah." She takes a swig from her mug before setting it down. "No you've never said either of those things. It's just..." Someone else did perhaps. She exhales more slowly again. "I don't know where to go or what we are going to do, that is true. I'm just not afraid of that fact anymore, Wherever we end up; we will be ok. Because it will be me and him together, we don't have to know everything, we can't plan out the future on some chart and make sure to make all the right answers. I know that things will be terrible sometimes, but I also know that things will be ok in the end. I've got him, and no matter how lost or scared I feel, he will make sure I face it down. And when you face it down, things don't seem as bad." She picks up her mug and takes a long sip. "I don't even know if that makes sense or not."

T'mic waits a fairly long while, mulling it all over, before he's willing to nod. "Okay." And that, seemingly, is that, so far as the bluerider is concerned. He leans back in his chair, and raises his beer, to finish it.