Logs:Watchrider Reporting Live
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| RL Date: 14 April, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, H'kon |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: The watchrider reports to the wingsecond. |
| Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 7, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Aughan/Mentions, Edeline/Mentions, Eustan/Mentions, Ienavi/Mentions, R'sig/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions, V'rik/Mentions, Y'rel/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. Which makes the title even funnier. |
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| Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Since joining Alpine after graduation, G'laer has been as fastidious as one might expect, neither going above and beyond nor lagging behind. He's taken to his frequent shifts as Crom watchrider well, keeping the Weyr informed and serving as a surprisingly diplomatic presence when it comes to Aughan's requests and those of his representatives. Mostly, G'laer's efficient and effective fulfillment of duties is likely meant to let him fly beneath the figurative notice of everyone involved, mostly because he seems to prefer not being bothered. He attends wing functions of course, and when he's not assigned to Crom, as with today, he joins Alpine for drills. It's at the end of one of these sessions just before the dinner rush hits the nearby caverns that G'laer is approaching his wingsecond with the usual rolled sheaf of written reports, Teisyth cheerfully galumphing along behind him. H'kon is already occupied, standing alongside V'rik, whose blue Ghijurth is carefully working moving a wing forward, then back. Arekoth is nearby, maintaining eye contact with the blue, while the riders mutter to one another. The name 'Leova' comes up. As does the word 'linament'. It can't be that bad; at least, when V'rik turns, he doesn't seem too shaken. It's Arekoth who notices G'laer - or rather, Teisyth - first, giving a little click-click of his teeth to her, and shifting his wings. H'kon is looking to Y'rel, waiting for some sort of unspoken communication. But he, too, turns soon enough, once all that's done. G'laer won't wait too long. G'laer is a patient man, even if Teisyth is not. So the man waits quietly, body still, gaze sweeping idly and not seeming to be paying much attention to the exchange between the other men, since it's not really his business, right? And his dragon? Well, she has a fidget for ever breath of G'laer's stillness and a mental rev of enthusiasm to equal every moment of his sedate manner. Of course, she has to wiggle when Arekoth notices her; after all, it's such an unexpected honor to be noticed by her Wingsecond (even if he'd done much the same for days and sevens and months before now). When H'kon's attention is G'laer's, the sheaf is proffered with a simple address of, "Sir." Do they need more words for something this routine? "Hm," says H'kon, the curt nod more acknowledgement of the greenrider's address to him than anything else, and the reach for that sheaf acknowledging the its presentation. H'kon doesn't seek to unfurl it right there, though green eyes shift, just a flicker, to it and back as he brings it to his side. "Nothing of immediate importance?" Arekoth is still looking over at Teisyth, though his clicking's stopped, replaced by, « Like the drills today? » "Not especially. Things continue smoothly between Crom and the Vijays. Gather preparations are still underway and the rumors that Lady Ienavi is with child have gotten louder, but not more substantial. There's some other scuttlebutt I've kept an ear open for, but nothing of great consequence. Things are quiet." There's a pause then. If this were someone other than G'laer, the silence might seem like hesitation. Since it is G'laer and there's no lack of evenness in his blue gaze or anything nonplussed in his formal stance, it's likely something more akin to measuring than hesitation. "It's quiet enough that I'm paying more attention than usual to things I mightn't heed otherwise." Maybe the former guard is just paranoid; he does seem the type. Teisyth isn't paranoid. Teisyth, even with her bond to G'laer, probably doesn't know what paranoid is. Her response is uncensored, unbridled and, enthusiastic. « Does a wherry like firelizard eggs? » Of course! She loved drills! « I cain't wait t'tell Lynner an' Rosvelth all about 'em! » If she doesn't forget or get distracted before she sees them next. "Smoothly," the wingsecond repeats, muscles at the corner of his mouth twitching, without any real, consistent effect but for that quiver of thought. "Hm," comes next, his fingers pressing that roll. "Other things?" The question, such as it is, is direct enough at least, H'kon looking straight to his wingrider. Arekoth glows a faint yellow of amusement at the back of his mind, shuffling his wings. « Are they challenging enough? Or are you too good for that? » There's something almost teasing in the brown's timbre, but not malicious. G'laer's expression doesn't change. It's the same serious if somewhat blank of duty. The wingsecond asks, so the wingrider delivers. "There's a fair amount of talk among the Hold's residents," and probably many others, "-speculating about young Eustan's fostering at Tillek and the political reasonings on all fronts, and also about Lady Ienavi's feelings about it. And that inevitably leads to observations," made by the purveyors of the scuttlebutt in question, "-with varying degrees of reliability about Lady Ienavi's relationship with Lord Aughan." The way G'laer delivers it paired with his manner in general, makes it a reasonable assumption that the greenrider has a one-way connection to the grapevine. « What? »Teisyth is practically shocked by the notion. The tease is missed entirely. « I reckon there ain't much of anything anywhere that I'm too good fer. » While the green isn't exactly humble, she is pretty salt of the earth. « Some of 'em are easy, » she illustrates as they would appear on a formation chart... drawn by a five turn old... who owns more crayons than any five turn old should. These, the easy ones, are those which call for more unusual maneuvering. « Some seem dern near impossible, but I'll get 'em yet. » Those illustrated now are the ones that are painfully simple, the ones that most dragons find boring and only ever get wrong if they're too bored to try for half a blink. "Indeed," answers the hold gossip. H'kon closes the word off with a clench of his jaw, and it stays that way for the time it takes him to process all that. "Tillek," eventually muses the Tillekian brownrider, "and the Weyr have history. Y'rel," wherever it is he's got to, "would ask," oh, if he weren't over there with the greenrider whose dragon his bronze caught not so long ago now (H'kon looks back to G'laer), "whether there should be concern for the Weyr's relationship with Crom. You might pay attention to how you are received. How their watchrider is received..." The politics make him frown (at least, it could be the politics), but H'kon seems to have said his piece. He turns green eyes over to Teisyth. Teisyth, to whom Arekoth observes, over a glowing ribbon of wry yellow amusement, « But if the whole wing tried to fly the easy ones in formation, maybe that would be hard. » "There have been no outward signs," G'laer answers of the Weyr's relationship with Crom. "I'm always generally well-received, but I believe part of the purpose in choosing to put me with a wing where I could fulfill that duty was because I was one of 'his,' before. It helps smooth the waters where some other things can't, even if certain people are less than forgiving about my choice to Stand." The explanation is brief. Surely his wingsecond is aware of his history, but on the off-chance that he skipped that section of his file, it's the brief version. "I'll be aware, but the others'," who fulfill that duty, "might have a better perspective on that." The greenrider waits then, as is his wont, to be dismissed or otherwise. Teisyth, oblivious of the green eyes on her, wiggles a little more. The amusement makes her happy! « I do reckon that'd be mighty difficult, what with two wings fer every dragon, an' one tail floppin' about an' then with-- » How many dragons are in the wing? She tries to do the math, first adding up the dragons by name, then multiplying wings and tails and-- Suffice to say it becomes a very complicated word problem that Teisyth certainly doesn't have the smarts or attention to solve it. She settles instead for just thinking about the wings and tails. "Indeed," comes again from the brownrider, gaze flicking back to G'laer, and then to his own brown Arekoth. H'kon's intake of breath is subtle; the same is true for the exhalation, only a minor rising and falling of his chest, the slightest flare to his nostrils. « Unless maybe you're just the shoulder, and Kavith's just the nose, and Unehrbrath's just the neckridge. » Arekoth doesn't say, at least, not to Teisyth, which body part he'd be. H'kon lifts an eyebrow, processing whatever it is he was working on, and once again turning to the greenrider. "That is all. Unless you've anything you need of me - or Y'rel?" « Can I be the chin instead? » Teisyth wants to know almost as soon as Arekoth has finished naming bits of the patchwork mega-dragon. Chins are, after all, the best place for scritches. Speaking of, her neck extends toward her rider, but hovers just out of actual intrusion range, but definitely close enough to be distracting in her lingering. But scritches are worth lingering for. And weren't they almost done anyway? G'laer's salute is crisp to H'kon, "No, sir." He never does, really. Low maintenance is the man, if not his dragon. It's Teisyth's fault, probably, that H'kon hesitates, weight already on his heels, ready to pivot. "Good then," comes with a furrowing of his brow, the slightest cant of his head, mimicked by Arekoth. "When you are in Crom, continue reporting back. Though I may try to see you both in drills more frequently." A quick nod, and the brownrider clearly feels no need to explain himself further. He's turned, he's leaving. His dragon, too, leaving the green with, « Only if you fit. » |
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