Logs:Know What You Want
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| RL Date: 26 September, 2014 |
| Who: V'ros, R'hin, Zmeyth, Leiventh |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Leiventh and Zmeyth hunt, V'ros and R'hin talk about life's choices. |
| Where: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| Mountain Meadow A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks. Winter has well and truly set in at the Reaches, with the snowfall making it feel particularly closed in. Perhaps that's why, sometime in the afternoon after the day's weyrling lessons are done, Zmeyth senses the touch of winter winds that are not physical, but the older bronze's -- instantly familiar. « We hunt, » Leiventh shares, sending an image of the white-coated meadow and the herbivores that that cluster at the far end of the valley for warmth. It's not all that far from the Weyr, up and over the seven spires and a short (if cold) flight down. R'hin's dressed for the cold in his riding leathers, standing not far from Leiventh, a bronze statue that stands out against the white snow. Leiventh's winter winds are answered with darkness and the caustic whirl of sooty smoke. « We will join you. Shortly. » Zmeyth's presence recedes only insomuch that it hangs back, waiting. He breaks from the cold of between over the snowy meadow and wings down to a landing not far from the statuesque bronze. His rider is clumsy on the dismount, getting one foot caught in the straps. By the time V'ros has his feet on solid ground, he's as red as a redfruit and sweating, mostly from the laborious action of getting down and somewhat from all the layers he's got on. "Sir," he says quietly, with a typical salute, as he shuffles closer to R'hin. Leiventh doesn't seem inclined to retain the contact; certainly not in a watching way. It's only when the younger dragon physically lands that the bronze rumbles a low greeting more felt-than-heard, not even stirring to movement. R'hin is more obvious, pale eyes taking note of the awkward dismount with a rueful twitch of lips. "I'd practice that, unless you want to do so in front of a pretty girl... or boy." There's a grunt, both at the address and the salute -- which he doesn't return -- and a sidelong glance as Leiventh pushes up into the air, dislodging some snow around them. « You pick first. They will be harder to catch afterward. » And of course, the bronze naturally considers himself the better hunter. "It's R'hin," the bronzerider corrects, "When Quinlys isn't around." Referencing the fumble has V'ros blushing harder. "I'll get better," he says quietly, flexing his gloved hands, which his eyes have fallen to in lieu of looking R'hin in the eye. His attention shifts to their dragons, as Zmeyth follows in the larger dragon's footsteps (wingflaps) and lifts back off into the air. « Sounds like a challenge. » And his implication is that he likes challenges, his shadowy tones warming under the surge of excitement. He veers off to the left, circling the wandering herd wide, obviously taking his time in choosing his meal. Brown eyes lift to R'hin then, mouth falling into its habitual down-turned lines. "Okay, R'hin-when-Quinlys-isn't-around. But she.. she always knows." He sighs, his breath a cloud of white, and turns to face out. After a moment of contemplation, « It was not, » Leiventh shares, « But it can be. » Instead of breaking around the other way, he sweeps directly over the creatures, who react as one would expect animals to at the scent and sight of a dragon -- fleeing in all directions in terror. « Now it is a challenge, » the bronze declares. The Savannah Wingleader doesn't seem inclined to linger on that moment of awkwardness, though. "Quinlys is many things, but she is not omniscient, no matter how much she's probably tried to impress that on you. You can't always blindly follow the rules, V'ros -- unless you want to be an automaton?" R'hin's head tips, pale eyes resting on the weyrling, gaze intently interested in his response. Frustration sparks in response to the scattering of the herd. « Your idea of a challenge and mine are different. » Zmeyth rumbles his aggravation outwardly too, sweeping out farther to get ahead of the beasts. He'll have to head them off to turn them around, a task that is both exhausting and arduous; needlessly so, thanks to Leiventh. "That's easy for.. you.. to say, you don't have to deal with the consequences," V'ros says darkly, his brown scrunching over tumultuous eyes. "Isn't following the rules.. the right thing to do? The good thing? For the.. good of the Weyr?" He'll pose that query back, slanting questioning eyes towards the bronzerider. There's a rise of the cold wind that denotes Leiventh's mindvoice, perhaps faint laughter, though it isn't obvious since he withdraws -- presumably to concentrate on catching one of the fast creatures. He makes his selection and shadows it to the far end of the valley, waiting for the right moment to strike. "And yet I did, when I was in your situation," R'hin says, with a reminiscent sort of smile. "And I had a Weyrlingmaster that was miles more of an unreasonable shit." At the weyrling's question, he shrugs a moment, glance flickering towards the dragons with a flicker of a smile. "Is it? The good of Weyr isn't always a natural outcome of following the rules; if that were so, there might well have been a different outcome for the Weyr as a whole during the comet pass, the break with Crom, the convicts, the exiles...." Zmeyth isn't going to press, he's busy concentrating on alienating one from the pack and going in for the kill shot. It's a loss, the beast scurrying away from underneath the young brown's sharp talons, and he'll lament properly with a loud sound of displeasure that further serves to scatter the herd in all directions. In the beginning, the dragon's emotions would infiltrate the rider's, but V'ros simply watches with a detached expression. "What should I.. should I do, then? Ignore all the rules? Walk the wrong path? I don't know.. what you expect of me." His unsettled gaze comes to rest on R'hin, at last, as Zmeyth makes another clumsy grab at one of the herdbeasts. "I can only be.. who I am, and no one else." Leiventh continues to shadow his chosen target, patience letting him wait for the right moment. Once the beast breaks out into the open the angular bronze swoops down, letting the speed of his descent do most of the work. With a crack, his hunt is successful. There's no audible sense of pride; the bronze merely settles down contently to eat -- coincidentally at an angle from which he can watch the brown's work. "No," and now, R'hin gives a low- throated chuckle at the thought. "But you can dare to call me R'hin outside of Quinlys' hearing. Lightning won't strike you, and the Weyrlingmaster won't drag you from your bed for the insolance." His gaze is expectant, almost, bright. "Sometimes it's allowable and good to think outside of the confines of structure. Not always, of course. Some of the rules are there for you, and for Zmeyth. Do you understand?" That second attempt is successful.. enough. It's a young herdbeast that Zmeyth takes down, but not without a mess. He's caught the attention of his weyrling, who watches the bloody feasting with a furrowed brow and a frown. Blood, guts, and dying are normal now, and yet- "I understand, R'hin." His eyes move to the wingleader as his forehead becomes smooth of its troubles. "Is that what you.. do? Think outside the, uh, confines of.. structure?" Being a brown weyrling is one thing, being a bronzeriding Wingleader is another, so this perspective is an interesting one to hear of - for V'ros, anyway. While V'ros watches the feasting with a frown, R'hin follows his gaze and gives a little smile. Leiventh, too, is watching, and there's a flicker of cold wind, brief, before he returns to his own meal. "Someone should. Not everyone is a leader, or can be a leader, but there can always be a place for people of all capabilities and ambitions." His boots crunch briefly as he strides towards a snow-covered rock nearby, reaching down to dust off enough of a space to sit down. "Have you thought about what you and Zmeyth want to do when you graduate? What the pair of you might be suited for?" V'ros stays standing still where he is, not bothering to follow the bronzerider's direction to the nearby rock. His hands flex and close repeatedly as he mulls over the words. He finally flicks his disconcerted gaze towards R'hin. "No, I didn't really.. I just hoped it would.. just.. come together." And after, he falls into a contemplative silence, shouldering the reality of his own admission with a stoic expression on his face and his hands, now fisted completely, at his sides. Zmeyth keeps his thoughts to himself, but he's happy to share a little bit of blood splatter and guts as he gives his meal a gratuitous shake between his jaws. "So you were just planning to live your life and let... fate decide?" R'hin asks, a tone of bemusement creeping into his voice. "It helps to know what you want. If you're happy flying sweeps for the rest of your and Zmeyth's life, that's fine -- if that's what you both want. But I don't think it is," the bronzerider says, with a shift of shoulders. "You should think about it." The corner of his lips quirk up into a smile at the sight of their feasting dragons. There's some crunching from Leiventh as he devours his meal, though he's not going out of his way to make it showy. "No, not like that, I.." But V'ros stops himself so he can't put his foot in his mouth another time, letting his lips fall into a thin line. He stares - unseeing, or seeing through - at R'hin, giving his head a slow shake. "Sweeps are a normal part of riding - they're essential," like he's reading off some textbook somewhere about what he's supposed to tell people about dragonriding, "and.." His lips press down until they're almost not seen, the corners turning down. "I don't have a choice. You just.. the Wingleaders choose.." beat, sigh, "I'll.. think about it." At the end, he shoots an uncertain glance at the bronzerider. "Wingleaders choose," R'hin agrees, "But if you found something that suited you and fought for it, that Wingleader might want to choose you. And," with a knowing smile, "You can always transfer later. You aren't confined." He holds up a hand, "Your choices in life aren't out of your hand." Closing his hand into a fished, he pushes upwards. Leiventh has finished his meal and lazily glides towards the pair of riders, though not without a detour overhead of Zmeyth, first. "If I knew what.. we were good at or what I wanted, I could.. but, I don't." For all of R'hin's well-meant advice, V'ros is just as lost as he was before, without a clue as to his own reasoning. "You can't fight for something you don't understand," he mutters, scrubbing his face with hands, and when he looks up, Leiventh is gliding their way. Zmeyth notices the shadow and lifts his head from the bloody stomach to watch the bronze's flight. He follows at a much more sedate pace, getting a running start on the ground and taking off without really getting too far from the snow-packed earth. R'hin seems undeterred by V'ros' uncertainty, boots crunching in the snow as he takes a few steps away to meet Leiventh, the bronze dropping down next to his lifemate with a preciseness borne of long practice. "You can fly now. Figure it out. Talk to different people in the Weyr. Maybe it'll give you some ideas about what you want to do, or what you're good at." There's a beat, as his glance goes towards the brown, and Leiventh's does, too. "Talk to Zmeyth," he adds, seemingly by way of farewell, since the next second he's climbing up, and barely settling down before the bronze launches up, disturbing the lighter snow around them. |
Comments
Azaylia (21:07, 27 September 2014 (EDT)) said...
This was great. I think R'hin is a really good fit for V'ros. It doesn't seem as though he goes into 'heart popping mode' as much, and can actually absorb what's being said. :D Great scene!
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