Logs:Extraordinary People
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| RL Date: 28 February, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist wants to know about Savannah. And Monaco. And High Reaches. And everything. R'hin doesn't give him straight answers. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 2, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Title mostly because it appealed to my ego. Maybe R'hin's, too, I dunno. |
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| It's relatively early in the morning -- though the sun's up -- but it's hardly warm enough yet to touch the snowfall that's been steadily dropping overnight. One of the piles of rocks near the lake's edge has been dusted off, and a jacket and towel have been thrown down carelessly. Footsteps in the snow lead from there to the edge of the lake, where a track is slowly being worn. R'hin looks like he's on a second or third lap, settled into a comfortable, fast pace. The snowfall muffles sound, making everything eerily quiet: only the sound of his boots crunching in snow is audible. It's Lythronath in the sky, first. Then, Lythronath on the ground. And by the time Lythronath is at the pens, A'rist is approaching the Monacoan he'd spied from on high, in full leathers when he starts to run on the older man's path - and in the opposite direction, though he still moves quite quickly, even if the route he's taken will guarantee a meeting (if current velocities are maintained). His is the determined face of a teenager on a mission, clouded only by each condensed exhalation. Beware. The Savannah rider's head tilts upward marginally, as if noting Lythronath's path, but otherwise unacknowledged. The curve of the far end of the lake brings R'hin to a straight, and from here, he can see A'rist's approach between the falling snow. His expression is even, pale gaze flickering over the boy's face, but not staying there. His pace doesn't slow any; it's clear he intends to keep going right into (past?) A'rist He can keep going all he wants; A'rist, he's mobile... and anticipating. As he nears R'hin - as R'hin nears him - he crouches a bit. It's a neat turn, even accounting for the slipperiness of the snow (maybe those on-ice lessons with K'del have paid off) and then it's just a matter of meeting and matching the other bronzerider's pace. So long as he doesn't get tripped, all will be well, right? "You're the wingleader from Monaco." Pale eyes watch all of this, and there's a faint twitch of lips, though whether in amusement or some other emotion isn't exactly clear; R'hin certainly doesn't slow his pace any, though neither does he speed up. "Mmhm," comes the confirmation after a moment. It's not exactly welcoming, but neither is it discouraging. The changed pace takes a moment for A'rist to adjust to, but once he has a rhythm in his breathing and steps, it becomes easy to match the other rider. For now, at least. "R'hin. Leiventh's. Your wing's different than all the other ones here." For obvious reasons, maybe. "Is it?" Oh, that's definite amusement in the older rider's voice, and while R'hin's breathing is noteable, it's measured too, a good indication of his fitness. After a moment -- only once A'rist seems settled in to joining in his run, does the Monacoan ask, "What do you think is so different about it?" "Well, I don't know. We're not with the wings really yet, we don't really get to be around you guys." Words that come between the hotter puffs of air that are the straight-out exhales, and somehow seem less weighty for the lack of steam coming off of them. "I hear your discipline is different. But not all the wings here use the same discipline either. And I've heard that harder climates make harder people... do any of your Monaco-bred riders run in the snow?" Careful. He might keep going. "Ah. Are they keeping you from us guys?" R'hin doesn't seem to think so, but he's indulging the thought all the same, intrigued by it. His pace slows marginally to accommodate the wide turn at the end of the lake, as much to take note of A'rist's pace as anything, before he resumes. "Some do. But not everyone excels at physical activity, and that is not the only thing a rider can, or is capable, of doing. Yet if you're trying to imply Monacoans are somehow weaker for not running in snow, that's a notion you'd best disabuse yourself of." It's said easily, without any heat, a friendly warning. "I don't know," says A'rist, again. "Have you had any weyrlings shadowing with you? Maybe they thought there was no point. If this wasn't going to be a permanent thing..." Maybe he needs to watch his footing here. Though that doesn't much explain why he keeps glancing to R'hin, for that period where he doesn't speak. The rebuke just gets a nod, for now, but for a quick darting of eyes and twitching of one of his hands. Note for later, maybe. "No. But you're not the first to have a poke about, all the same." It's the comment of 'a permanent thing' that actually draws the older bronzerider's gaze for the length of three or four paces. "If?" R'hin echoes, with a dark chuckle. "If you've heard otherwise you know more than me. Which, I'd be horribly embarrassed about if it were the case. Tell me about your background. Where are you from?" The change of conversation, and the shift of focus to the weyrling, is done smoothly enough. A'rist works up a look of consternation as they carry on, taking a few breaths before he fires off, one after the other, "I'm from Keroon, my dad came here with beastcraft, I stayed and asked to stand, how come you chose to bring your wing to High Reaches?" "Keroon," R'hin echoes briefly, "Like Azaylia." His switch from one topic to the next earns a sidelong grin, if brief. "I didn't chose. What could possibly give you the impression I had such power over two Weyrs' leaderships?" "So did they send you here against your will?" A'rist presses. "You don't seem like you hate it so much, being back." And, perhaps as some show of charity, or cooperation, the weyrling even offers, "I didn't know Weyrwoman Azaylia was from Keroon, I don't think." "Kicking and screaming," R'hin confirms with a dark chuckle. Is he being facetious? It's not that easy to tell, really: his face a mask of lightness as they round the turn. "Let me ask you a question: say you wanted to join Glacier, but they put you in Avalanche, instead. If you kicked and screamed and whined about it, would you expect that they'd change their mind? Or do you think playing along and trying to convince them otherwise would help your cause more?" A'rist watches that other bronzerider, to a point that his course starts to wobble. He glances back to the path, but only here and there. He might miss some clue. He doesn't answer the question put to him, perhaps counting it as rhetorical. Or trying to force it into that realm. "So what plans are you playing along with accomplishing here? Why's it a good idea, they had to tell you more than 'look you're going to High Reaches', right? You're the wingleader." The noise that comes from R'hin's throat is probably akin to a sigh of resignation; his pace slows, and he finally shifts to a walk. "Are you asking because you're interested, or because you think that this is some plot of Monaco's to take over the Weyr... somehow? Believe me, I've heard it all before. Kidnapping, extortion theories -- oh, the one where I planted trusted riders by having them transfer back into the Weyr months before I even knew I was coming was great. Actually, it's enjoyable, come to think of it -- I haven't been accused of canine-kicking in a while. Go on, tell me your theory, good sir." He gestures grandly towards A'rist, as if handing the center stage off to him. A'rist gets a few paces ahead of him before he's realised they're slowing down. He waits for the older rider, catching his breath, and then walking, carefully disciplined, beside him. Like as if his legs would take off at full speed, if he just let them get out from under him. "I'm just asking because I don't know," comes almost flatly to R'hin's invitation. "Both Weyrs have to be getting something out of it. So what is it?" "Of course they are," R'hin agrees, his breathing slowly cooling, yet still creating white plumes in the cool air as he walks. "High Reaches is benefiting from the wise, charming and devilishly handsome man of a Wingleader's presence, and Monaco is getting... mm, whatever Polaris' wingleader is known for." A'rist looks entirely put out at that. "You can just say 'none of your business, kid' if you don't want to tell me. And there was lots of transfers into Polaris before they got sent off, I heard. Did they stick you in with a bunch of people they didn't want? Or," maybe he forgot he'd just given R'hin a chance to opt out; a hop adds to his step, "did you do something they didn't like? Is there going to be a leadership flight at your Weyr soon?" "But that's hardly fun, and you're a bronzerider, not a kid," R'hin corrects, adroitly. "Mm. K'del stacked the deck with all the bad blood he wanted to get rid of, do you think?" he muses aloud, glancing over at the younger rider questioningly. "And the leadership flight idea is bogus; if I wanted to be there -- which I don't -- an ill-timed delivery has always worked as an excuse. You don't have to beg for an apology after you're Weyrleader; High Reaches riders are notorious for it." "I don't know for sure what he did. But you guys had to have done something that would be good for you. You don't just... send a wing off for no reason, do you? Not even in an Interval." Then, the wicked hint of a smile. And one he doesn't speak to, too intent on his other question. "And yet, people were less suspicious when Monaco gave High Reaches a queen," R'hin reminds. "The question you should be asking is not why, but what led to this. Then maybe you'll find an answer." He slows and turns off the path, crunching towards where his towel and jacket were discarded, scooping to grab the first and run it over his face. He settles it around his neck, pale eyes settling on the younger bronzerider as he asks, "Do you have any regrets? About asking to stand?" "Are you sure they were?" A'rist's nose has wrinkled up. "It doesn't sound right. I was just a kid then, though." And not a bronzerider. Not someone in the know at all. He follows on after R'hin, standing a bit back while the older rider deals with sweat and the like. The question put to him then brings a snort. "Of course not. I know me and Lythronath can do way more than I ever could've done before. I asked to stand, and I got the first bronze hatched." He stands a little taller with that boast. "That's like asking if you regret impressing." And 'you' here seems to mean R'hin himself, not just anyone. R'hin doesn't dismiss the notion of regret so swiftly as A'rist does. "It's not an unreasonable question, and bigger men and women than I have expressed such a sentiment. If you consider the possibilities of where your life might have taken you before a bit like... the branches of a tree. Before you stood, you were lush and vibrant, pointed in every direction, endless possibilities." He holds his hands upwards, palms showing and fingers splayed. "After you impressed, well -- you can no longer be a crafter, you cannot marry. Children will come, at best, third place in your life after your dragon and your Weyr. Your dragon always answers to another, and you to him. You are no longer your own man." He puts his hands together, flat against each other, a straight line. "You have become... a tree with a single, straight branch, forever growing upwards, and never out. Always in your expected place." "But it's not endless possibilities. Not for lots of people. Yeah, maybe you can get into a craft, but lots of people are just stuck as caverns workers at a Weyr, or drudges at a hold. It's not a tree, it's just like... pick a shrub, for most people. It would've been 'pick a shrub' for me, too. I guess, maybe it's a straight tree, but it's a straight tree with teeth and wings and metallic hide. It's better. And maybe it's not as straight and expected as all that, either," says A'rist while he stands and awkwardly stares at the older man. Not quite dismiss, but certainly brusque, R'hin scoops up his jacket as he says, "If you were an ordinary person before, becoming a rider does not make you extraordinary. You will be a person who will always have a place in life, true. But it is a place that you cannot step out of, nor escape. Fax had teeth and swords and ruled seven Holds, and he had no dragon to prop him up. Tell me, A'rist, do you want to be an ordinary person? Or something more?" A'rist makes a face. "Fax had teeth and swords and used them. And Lythronath doesn't prop me up. We'll be more, but not... it's different anyway, than how you're saying it. Not riding doesn't make you any freer." With a bit of daring on his face, "There's ways to get sent to High Reaches in all kinds of other things." "Maybe. But on the flip side, riding isn't the answer to everything." It's cool enough -- and it's been long enough since they stopped running that R'hin shrugs into his jacket. Instead of responding to the weyrling's latter comment, the Wingleader's asking, "What do you want to do when you graduate, A'rist? If you know the answer to that, then the question of which wing becomes obvious." Two crunching steps, before he stops, considers. "If you'd like, you can fly with us for a day in the next seven. You'd need to be prepared to lose marks, though." A'rist's eyebrows try to meet each other overtop of his nose, but whatever other sharp comments he might have, he holds. Even teenagers sometimes know when they're pushing too much. "I'd like that," comes instead to the next offer. Just.... let Lythronath know when." With a roll of his eyes, he adds, "I'll save up." A sharp nod is R'hin's response to both the when and the saving. Wordlessly -- no pleasant farewell -- he crunches away across the snow, no doubt headed for the baths. And A'rist, he just waits for his bloodstained dragon. It won't be long. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 01 Mar 2014 22:40:14 GMT.
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Aaaah! More A'rist and R'hin scenes, please. x3
This was great. I love how R'hin tried to be all "R'hin" and A'rist is just young and tenacious enough not to put up with it. Even if he tries to behave. xD
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