Logs:The Return of a Thread
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| RL Date: 20 January, 2014 |
| Who: Ghena, Quinlys |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Ghena returns her silver thread. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, G'laer/Mentions, L'sha/Mentions, Klohi/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions |
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| Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr Made private by a thick, insulated door that blocks out most of the noise from the barracks beyond, the Weyrlingmaster's Office is a comfortable, quiet alcove. Instead of an imposing desk, much of the room is taken up by a large round table, with five chairs spaced around its edges. Beneath it is a square rug pieced together with twisted rags that stretches from wall to wall, just leaving room for the long bookshelves and filing cabinets. On the back wall, a tapestry of the Weyr's badge is hung, providing both insulation and decoration. In one corner sits a small green plant, growing strong despite the lack of sunlight in this windowless room. Beside it rests a tea cart, prepped and ready. Between training continues apace, though that really means 'slowly': no one will be jumping before they're ready, and 'ready' is defined pretty strictly, perhaps unsurprisingly. It's all pretty intensely stressful for Quinlys and her staff, and so perhaps it's not surprising that, at the end of the day's activities, the weyrlingmaster has chosen to retreat to her office, her klah suspiciously alcohol-scented, and her feet resting upon the tabletop. The door's open, though - even if she looks exhausted. They say don't hit a good Quinlys when she's down. Well maybe they don't say that precisely, however it is common knowledge that one shouldn't cause trouble for weyrlingmasters when they are clearly trying to catch a break. Ghena was never one of those kids to get that unwritten rule. So She naturally peers around the corner and spots the exhausted Weyrlingmaster. "Can I have a minute Ma'am?" Weyrlings. Why the shell did Quinlys decide this career path would be a good one? Blue eyes regard Ghena over the rim of her mug, with an expression that is keenly long-suffering. Silence extends for a few moments and then, with a sigh, the elder bluerider pulls her feet down off of the table and waves the younger in. "One. But no more than that, you hear? I'm off duty. After that." The lanky girl nods, strides over to lay the silver thread from her knot neatly on the desk. "Just returning this. I gave my word I'd try it, but it isn't for me." Simple, to the point and without drama. No drama, and yet it still seems to surprise Quinlys, who straightens and sets down her mug. "You're nearly senior weyrlings," she murmurs. "And while the programme continues... you're almost at the end of the really complicated learning. What led you to this decision, Ghena?" There's a roll of her shoulders, "I'm not ready for it, I wasn't when I got it. I'm learning that more and more as we get closer to being seniors. We have plenty of people in this group who have the potential to be good leaders, may as well give them someone who doesn't mind following." "Do you think you will be ready, one day? Not for the programme, obviously," Quinlys amends. "But for leadership. Is it something you would consider, one day in the future?" She's reached forward, now, taking the silver thread into her hands: it does seem to suggest that she's willing to accept the return of it. "I think maybe, I mean, no one got hurt too badly the week I was in charge right?" There's a lopsided smile, "This whole process has shown me I need to do some serious growing up before other's lives are depending on my judgement. It's a scary thing, being responsible for others." Quinlys' expression is abruptly wry. "You didn't tell your wingsecond to kill himself and his dragon," she allows. "And you didn't..." but her other example likely involves Ghena herself, so that's probably not an ideal path to go down. More seriously: "You're right. We may not have threadfall to worry about, but these things are important. It's good to know your limits. I'm proud of you for trying, Ghena." Ghena straghtens her shoulders at that. Giving a firm salute. "Thank you for understanding Quinlys. Did you need me to lock the door behind me on the way out?" "No, leave it open." Quinlys says that with a sigh: the things she puts up with! "Hey, before you go... of your clutchmates, who would you pick as Wingleader. If you had a choice? I'm just curious." Ghena folds her arms thinking about that for a while. "L'sha is sweet, but the other weyrlings don't take him serious. I have no love of Klohi, or A'rist for that matter. Klohi does her job, but she's grumpy about it. If Rh'mis hadn't done the hop between before he was ready I'd vote him, but if you promise not to tell anyone I said this?" She gives Quinlys a serious stare. "On your honor as a bluerider?" Quinlys reaches again for her mug, though doesn't actually draw it to her mouth. She seems genuinely interested in what Ghena has to say about her classmates, though her brows raise distinctly and with surprise-if-not-horror at mention of Rh'mis. But, "On my honor as a bluerider, of course. My lips are sealed." "G'laer, if he could just get to be a little better about relating with people." She almost whispers. "Of course you didn't hear that from me." This one is less surprising, though Quinlys' mouth draws in tightly all the same. "No, of course I didn't. It's a difficult thing, isn't it? The relating with people. I'm not sure he really likes to consider himself part of the group, and Teisyth..." But she breaks off. That's probably not anything Ghena needs to hear. "Thank you for your thoughts, Ghena. And for your honesty." Ghena nods. "Anytime." And with that she about faces and marches out, feeling all the lighter for having released her burden. Poor Quinlys. She gets all the tough jobs. |
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