Logs:Of Plans for the Future
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| RL Date: 10 July, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'dur, R'hin, Yselle |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 4, Turn 8 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 16:54 on day 31, month 4, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon. You bank and land neatly on the ground. Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#840RJs) Standing on the eastern side of the bowl, you realize why this is one of the most striking Weyrs on Pern. Arrayed around the north rim of the bowl are the Seven Spindles: high crownlike points formed of old volcano flows which were eroded to sharp spikes. The bowl itself is a rough ovoid shape, with a large lake taking up a good portion of the southeastern part. The bowl seems to slant down to the lake shore, and the soil becomes a little looser in that direction. From the east, the slight aroma of herdbeast and wherry hide rises from the feeding grounds. The northeast section of the bowl is full of activity: training of dragons both young and old goes on in a large clearing near the entrance to the weyrling barracks and dragon infirmary. Several small boulders dot the area to the north, forming a winding path to the ledges leading into the weyrleaders' quarters. The afternoon is clear and the sun shines brightly. It is completely still, no winds blow and the spring air is warm enough, with only a slight chill. Contents: M'wen Nepenth(#4050Jaes) Obvious exits: Weyrleader Ledges Western Bowl Floor Dragon Infirmary Weyrling Barracks Weyrling Training Room Feeding Grounds Lake Shore » Leiventh drifts down in a lazy circle, using the bowl's natural currents to glide down to a landing without a single flap of his wings. He settles down a little away from M'wen, wings folding back neatly. On his neck, R'hin gives a jaunty salute to his Wingleader, grinning as he calls, "Ho, M'wen. You and Maxeoth ready?" » "Well I am, Can't say the same about Maxeoth, let me get him." He calls up to R'hin, perched atop his bronze. Standing still for but a moment, obviously calling over his dragon, he puts on his riding jacket, which was slung haphazardly over his arm. When the Brown arrives, he swings up onto it's back, attaching himself to the straps. » Maxeoth wanders away from the lake shore, back to the main bowl. » M'wen climbs up onto Maxeoth's back, as the dragon rumbles softly. R'hin leans back a little, turning and watching Maxeoth's approach with a grin, while Leiventh rumbles a greeting to his clutchsibling. "Lead the way, Wingleader," he calls across the intervening distance, once M'wen's settled. » On Maxeoth, M'wen nodding, with a small smile evident on his face, the Flurry wingleader points to the sky with a cry of "Lets go!" with Maxeoth pushing hard off the ground, rising like an arrow. » In the sky directly above, Maxeoth launches into the sky from the ground below. You launch into the sky. You rise higher in the sky. Sky High in the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr As you soar high above the bowl, you find yourself at a most unique point in the sky; here, near the lip of the bowl, the southeast is fully visible - the open sky stretches to the Western Mountain Range. Behind you, though, to the northwest, you can catch only occassional glimpses of the landscape through the spaces between the Seven Spindles. Through the first and second spires, you can see out to the mountains surrounding the weyr. If you know just where to look, you can also glimpse part of the winding road leading to the Weyr. Ledges are hewn into the rock face in all directions, each with a dragon's weyr behind it. The winds here are usually calm, with the protection of the Weyr's walls to keep the worst gusts at bay. Still, flying can be a little difficult as an errant thermal sometimes crosses the bowl. Views: Weyrs Contents: Maxeoth Obvious exits: Lower Western Sky Lower Eastern Sky Star Stones Up » Maxeoth disappears into Between. » Leiventh disappears into Between. Between You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats... Contents: Maxeoth Black... Blacker... Blackest! You suddenly emerge... Air Above Telgar Weyr You are flying in the skies directly above Telgar Weyr. The Weyr itself is a huge caldera directly below you, formed in an irregular hourglass shape. Its size is impressive; a small Hold could easily fit within its bowl, with room left over. Stretching roughly to the north and south is the mountain range of which the Weyr is part, rugged peaks of bare rock and stone. The Telgar territory covers the expanse both east and west. From here, there are exits to the 'Southern Bowl' or 'Central Bowl', or dragons may land 'Outside Telgar Weyr', near the Weyr's Entrance Tunnel. The afternoon is clear, and the sun shines with a few small clouds floating past. It is completely still, no winds blow and the spring air feels a bit nippy. Contents: Maxeoth Obvious exits: Sky Above Telgar Outside Telgar Weyr » Leiventh emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! » From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, Tadara's steely blue Agrarth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to brown Maxeoth and his rider, M'wen of HighReaches Weyr. » From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, Tadara's steely blue Agrarth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to bronze Leiventh and his rider, R'hin of HighReaches Weyr. You fly downwards towards the southern end of the bowl. You fly downwards towards the bowl. You climb down Leiventh's side to the ground, as the dragon warbles a greeting. Southern Bowl(#396RDJ$) Towering above, the bowl wall rises in a curving three-pointed arc as it shelters this southernmost point of Telgar Weyr's great caldera. Sloping down to the north to a slight degree, the floor of the bowl has been channeled so that runoff might drain down to the lake beyond. There are several strategically placed evergreens that serve to baffle the biting mountain winds away from the southern entrance into the Living Caverns. Drifts of snow and the heavy tracks of large dragon feet and bellies cross the expanse of the bowl. Rocks and crags are hung with the purest white. Northward, the center of the bowl spreads hugely, leading to the feeding pens, hatching grounds, weyrling barracks, the Telgar Weyr lake. The ground-level weyrs of the queenriders dot the mountain to the northwest. Use '+view queenriders' to view them. The murmur of voices and the clatter of pots and chairs drifts from the Living Cavern, where the evening meal is being served. The afternoon is clear, and the sun shines with a few small clouds floating past. It is completely still, no winds blow and the spring air feels a bit nippy. Contents: DRAGONS: Maxeoth Leiventh PLAYERS: R'hin M'wen Obvious Exits: Living Cavern Central Bowl Outer Infirmary Work Room Records Room Leiventh matches Maxeoth's progress, winging down beside his clutchsibling and settling down on the Telgar bowl's floor. The bronze lifts a foreleg to assist R'hin's decent to the ground, and once that's done, the hook-nosed dragon settles down, not even a twitch of tail marring his still posture. R'hin bundles his helmet and gloves into the saddlebags as he glances around, noting with interest, "The weather's not that different than High Reaches. Somehow, I thought it'd be warmer this time of the Turn," he remarks, moving away from Leiventh to join the brownrider. M'wen nods, "Well it is a bit warmer, but thats true with almost anywhere when comparing to the High Reaches." Jumping down from his dragon, he meets R'hin in the middle between the brown and the bronze, "So where to now? I'm sure theres people about somewhere." R'hin reaches up to undo his flight jacket partway, leaving it hanging half open as pale eyes rove around the bowl. "Well, there's the caverns," he says, gesturing in the appropriate direction. "But since we're here, we ought to see the eggs, don't you think? The hatching caverns are to the north," he nods in the direction of the central bowl. "Oh, I completely forgot they had a clutch on the sands here. Lets go there, then we can head over to the caverns and see if we can't get our hands on a bit of food." M'wen says, beginning to walk in the direction of the hathing grounds, "So, coming with me?" he calls back to the bronze-rider, Maxeoth settling down onto the ground, eyes slowly twirling. You walk north. Central Bowl A stony field is the center of this great caldera, the size of which is unmatched at any other Weyr--for the whole complement of all the wings at Telgar could rest comfortably within its towering cliffs. Shaped in a perfect oval, the rock walls seem ideal for keeping the usual chill winds stirring about. The ground is mostly made of pebbles and rocks, some hued the milky shades of old quartz, though there are patches where softer dirt and even trees sprout up from the ground. To the south, the bowl opens onto the living caverns and the Weyrleaders' quarters; the immense entrance to the Hatching Grounds lies to the northwest. Heading southwest will lead one back out into the rocky mountain ranges around Telgar's protective walls. Dragons may be seen, relaxing or fresh from feeding, to the north, as well as the soft lapping sounds of Telgar's lake touching the sandy shore. The Weyrling Barracks, always aflutter with activity, are to the direct west. If you're looking for the 'dutypair' to take you to an outweyr destination, they can be found here. The meadow near the lake is strewn with wild flowers, like little stars of pink, yellow, and white. The ground by the the barracks is quite muddy. Contents: DRAGONS: Dianneth PLAYERS: R'hin R'dur Yselle Obvious Exits: Weyrling Barracks Southern Bowl Lake Shore Hatching Cavern Feeding Grounds Runner Pasture Weyr Entrance M'wen walks here from the south. M'wen has arrived. The spring air feels a bit nippy. "Twins, can you believe it?" Yselle glances up for his reaction. "Shells. So, she's being extra protective. She thinks if I fly I'll break." The named green half-opens that eye again and lazily flicks her tail in Alidaeth's direction - something to entertain him without any major effort from her. She's stretched out in the afternoon sun allowing her rider to use her as a combination couch and study chair. Yselle is largely ignoring the bunch of hides in her hand right now, though, instead focussing on the nearby brownrider. It doesn't take more than a few strides for R'hin to catch up to, and keep pace with his fellow 'Reachian. "Food?" he echoes, in amusement. "We've got plenty of -that- at home. Are you sure we want to take advantage of another Weyr's hospitality like that?" he asks, pale eyes glittering briefly. He seems familiar enough with the Weyr that the direction he indicates is indeed correct, his gaze settling on the hatching caverns for a moment, before nearby voices attract his attention. With the slightest jaunt of head in M'wen's direction as warning, he alters their path just enough to take them near the pair of Telgarians. "High Reaches' duties to Telgar," he calls, saluting a second later. "How do you know that?" R'dur wants to know, frowning at the greenrider. Quickly, though, he turns back to his own dragon, currently preening over Dianneth. "I'm sure that, uh. Makes you... doubly happy. Or something," are the brownrider's quiet words, accompanied by a quick flash of uncertain smile as he glances over his shoulder at the woman. That same look, however, takes in the two visitors, and at once R'dur turns back, straightening. He fidgets with his shirt, brushing it down and then raking a hand through his hair before he manages a hesitant smile for R'hin and M'wen alike. "Ah. Oh. Uh," he cycles through various stammered syllables before he hits on the right one for the occasion: "Er. Welcome to Telgar." Fidget. "Yes, food, I didn't get anything this evening from the caverns, but your probably right on that second part." M'wen says to R'hin, walking north along the bowl. Nodding silently to R'hins change of direction, he follows over to where the two Telgarians are standing. Giving a deep nod that almost seems to be a small bow he says after R'hin, "High Reaches duties to Telgar." "She can hear them," Yselle says matter-of-a-factly. "She's getting better at it. It was ages before she could hear Ysalia. - Oh hello there," she waves with the hides in her hands. "Telgar's duties. Got everything you need?" She glances back to R'dur, her voice pitched more for him than the other riders. "Were they talking about food? Do any riders eat before they come?" With a purse of lips, tugged into a grin, R'hin murmurs to M'wen, "Maybe we can swing by the Waverider on the way back home?" he suggests in an undertone, accompanied by a sly sort of look. He comes to a stop as they reach the Telgarians, gaze shifting from one to the other. "Thank you, sir," scruffy-haired man responds smoothly to R'dur, with a smile. Pale eyes settle on Yselle, "Ah, not to worry. We wouldn't presume to take advantage of your hospitality. It's a pleasure to see you again, ma'am," he says, voice warming, "It's been some time. Since Leiventh shelled, in fact." He extends a hand towards the greenrider, solicitously. "Um. We have food?" fumbles R'dur, glancing from Yselle to the two weyrlings uncertainly. He spares only a quick not-quite-convinced look for Yselle for her latter words before he's talking quickly to the High Reaches visitors. "Plenty of food. You're welcome to our food. It's in the living caverns--that way." Helpfully, he gestures, nevermind R'hin is already turning down that idea. For the bronzerider's latter words to Yselle, R'dur has a definitely surprised look, his brows arching, but he says nothing on that particular subject, at least. "No no, its ok we didn't come here to take any food from you, just to visit." M'wen says smiling slightly towards the fidgeting R'dur. "By the way, I'm M'wen, brown Maxeoth's." He looks towards Yselle with a slight puzzled look, "I'm sure I recognize you, but I can't quite place my finger on it...I'm sure it was sometime around Maxeoth's hatching but...well nevermind." He gives a slight grin, with a slight roll of the eyes to signify his lack of memory. Yselle grins warmly at R'hin, "I was only teasing. Adele would have my head if I didn't offer you the hospitality of Telgar. So the babies have grown up? Funny, it doesn't seem so long ago." She crosses his palm with her own. She just grins at R'dur's disconcerted look, and shrugs for his surprise. "I have a lot of trouble putting faces to names too," she confesses for M'wen's benefit. "R'hin, bronze Leiventh's," the weyrling adds his own introduction on the heels of M'wen's. "They're not far off two Turns now," he adds, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "Actually, it's fortuitous that we ran into two Telgarians. M'wen and I are doing a tour of Pern, trying to find out what makes all the Weyrs unique. I'm sure it won't require much prompting for you to expound the virtues of Telgar Weyr...?" he prompts, glancing between the two riders. R'dur continues fiddling with the hem of his shirt, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Ah. Oh, right. R'dur. That's--that's Alidaeth." The brown, at his name, raises his head slightly to whuff his own greeting, before he turns back to eyeing Dianneth with an intensity that does little to settle his rider. R'dur casts a couple of sharp looks back at the dragon, who is thoroughly ignoring his rider, before the man turns back to the other people. "Ah. You're from--you're from High Reaches' most recent hatching, then?" Duh. Their knots are for weyrlings, aren't they? "We didn't--that is, I didn't, myself and my weyrmate--Brijana--we didn't make that one. So, ah. Well, congratulations, even if they are, well, a little belated. Or a lot," R'dur says apologetically. R'hin's latter request, however, earns only a blank look, and R'dur looks to Yselle for support on that one. Nodding at R'hin's question, M'wen smiles slightly, a slight raise of his right eyebrow to signify his awaiting a response. "Well, it doesn't matter too much where, I'm just sure we have, thats all." With a look to R'dur, "Well met R'dur, Thank you for that, no matter how belated, means alot to us...me at least" He then returns his gaze to Yselle, awaiting a response. Yselle glances over at R'dur, starting to giggle. "Oh dear," she says. "Quite simply," she tells the weyrlings, "Telgar is the best place to be that there is. It's home. It has wonderful winds to fly, and my brother and children are here. You can always take a break somewhere warmer - well /usually/ you can, and - you're not looking to transfer already are you?" she gifts the 'Reachians with a bemused grin. "And congratulations on your lifemates growing up so well, too." R'hin notes R'dur's blank look with a hint of bemusement, though he does add smoothly enough, "A belated thanks, then. Yes, indeed," he confirms, "They're hatched out of Jenryth and Corineth." His voice is evenly polite - something that M'wen at least would recognize as the bronzerider's version of making an effort. A faint furrow of brow appears throughout Yselle's words, and a sidelong glance is given to M'wen. "Well," he says, slowly, "The same could be said of the 'Reaches, if you lived there, and your family was there. But what makes it -special-?" A grin at the latter question, "Not looking to transfer, no. Personal curiousity, you might say," he answers, the slightest twitch of lips given. For M'wen's words, R'dur has a hesitant smile before he glances sideways again at Yselle. "It's... It's... It's home, really," he admits, cheeks pinkening. He glances at his feet with a frown before continuing, "I've visited High Reaches only briefly, but, well. I spent a month at Igen and, and I've been to Southern as well. They're all--they're all nice, really, but..." A shrug; he peeks up at R'hin again. "It's everything, really--the climate and people and Alidaeth and... you know. Could you--could you explain the merits of High Reaches, sir?" It's a mostly rhetorical question, meant to prove his point more than anything. M'wen gives R'hin a glance, taking the question to himself. "Well the 'Reaches have the Seven spindles along the top of the bowl, giving a beautiful view, as well as looking the most stunning of the weyrs I've seen, as well we have the Hot springs slighty up the mountain to have a good soak when the weather is cold, and A nice diving cliff into the refreshing waters of our lake. Does that answer your question adequetely?" He knows fully well that the question was intended to be rhetorical, but it could be answered all the same, and it seems it was. "But I can understand most have a natural affinity towards their weyr, considering its home." "What makes any place special?" Yselle wriggles out of her sitting position, aided by a helpful push from the green. "I can still get up, love," she laughs. "Give me a few months and I'll be very grateful for that though." - "Perhaps you mean the ice skating? Or the ice games we play? Our relationship with Bitra and the Smithcraft? The beauty of the gardens this time of turn? The meals our cooks specialise in? What makes it special for me is the people who I care about. My lifemate and" She grins, offering R'dur a smile as she says, "my family. R'dur is part of it, in fact. I'm very lucky in the people I have around me. The rest? I could visit and see all of that other, but what makes it special is that it's home." R'hin, for his part, looks well pleased, and in complete agreement with M'wen's answer. "Not to mention," he adds, "We have the best views of snow-tipped mountains in the whole of Pern, the morning air is crisp, clean and cool, and the Weyr looks untouched by man after the first snows of the day covers the bowl." He spreads his hands briefly, "We just wish to find what makes each Weyr unique for itself, not for the fact that it is home." Yselle's words are taken in stride, until one catches his interest. "Gardens?" he echoes, intrigued. R'dur blushes profusely at Yselle's words, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Uh, well, I wouldn't go /that/ far," he notes. Alidaeth, for his part, seems grateful for the greenrider's words, for his croon is plainly pleased as he leaves off watching Dianneth in favor of snaking his head over to the now-standing rider. R'dur manages a dark look for the brown that does no good whatsoever; sighing, the man glances sideways at the weyrlings again. "Ah, yes, our gardens. They're always beautiful, really--autumn is my favorite time, though. So, uh... Have you been to all the other Weyrs yet?" he asks after a moment, brows arching slightly. "Well, you should be here for K'ran's ice game," Yselle suggests. "All of Icewind divides into teams, and we hit this giant mark across the ice with sticks, and see who can hit it between marks on the ice." She grins, adding, "I'm captain of one of the teams. We're doing quite well, really." M'wen nods, grinning at R'dur's question, "Oh yeah, we've been to all the others on the Northern continant. They have all had -something- that makes them unique, well except Fort, but we won't get into that now." With a slight glance in R'hin's direction, "It looks like he's interested in the gardens, maybe you'd like to show use them? Or not if your busy with something here." "I'd like to see them sometime," R'hin says, on the topic of gardens, in agreement with M'wen. Then mention of Fort earns a twitch of lips from the bronzerider, who seems just as inclined not to speak further on the topic. "Ice game?" he seems to straighten marginally, interested. "I'd be interested in that," he agrees. "Perhaps you could have Dianneth bespeak Leiventh as to when it's on?" "Fort is the first Weyr--that's uniquie in itself," murmurs R'dur, looking briefly intrigued by M'wen's words, but too polite to press. "And, uh. Will you be visiting the Southern Continent Weyrs as well? They're, um. Some of them are very nice. I mean, I've only visited Southern myself--my hold, my hold is, uh, beholden to hthem. But I have some... some family at Ierne as well." Again, inexplicably, he blushes, and quickly turns away, peering across the bowl. "If you'd like to see them, I can--I can show you?" he volunteers slowly. "Well I'd be happy to see them, if you wouldn't mind. We had quite the discussion about its firstness, didn't end too well" As R'hin, he seems to not want to discuss the topic further. "I don't know, what do you say R'hin? Are we gonna go to southern? or just keep it to our continant?" "The gardens are lovely. The trees are worth climbing," Yselle enthuses. "They're much nicer later in the Spring when the flowers all come out, but you're welcome to come back and see them again, of course. We love having visitors." She smiles, adding, "I'll let you know, R'hin. It won't be until the lake ices over, of course. I can't take you to the gardens right now, unfortunately. I have hides to work on, but R'dur is very good company," she doesn't even say "Sometimes." How restrained. "Mmm," is R'hin's non-committal comment of R'dur's opinion on Fort. "Southern?" he echoes, "Well, I suppose we could do the southern continent as well. First, I'd like to move onto the Halls and Holds in the northern continent, though." He bestows a grateful smile on Yselle, "It'd be a pleasure, ma'am. I'll look forward to that," he says, smoothly. "Uh, well, all right, then," R'dur says, looking less than thrilled about his offer being accepted. Still, he manages a shy smile, brows rising sharply at Yselle's words. His smile to her is warmer, and he nods. "I--okay. Good day, Yselle." Then, back to the weyrlings. Absently, already taking a few steps toward the gardens, he notes, "Southern is... well, it's rather like Ista. A nice place to visit, but, well. Not a place I'd ever care to live," he notes, with a certain apologetic tone. "Good thing we would just visit then. I liked Ista, but it was too stifling hot the whole time, and it wasn't even summer AND it was evening, though the sandbar was nice." M'wen adds the last part with a look towards R'hin. "So were going then? Lead on R'dur!" Yselle glances a little askance at R'hin. "You haven't changed," she mutters under her breath. As she passes R'dur, she mutters something under her breath to him, and continues on her way, calling back, "Clear skies." R'hin seems to note the Telgarian's discomfort, but doesn't draw attention to it, or withdraw the acceptance of his offer. "I'm finding that of many places. I'm not a big fan of places that're too hot." Easily, he falls into step, following after the other two riders. Yselle's comment earns a grin that is half sheepish, half pleased. "It was a pleasure to see you again, ma'am," he calls after the greenrider, eyes lingering to watch her depart. R'dur glances back at M'wen and R'hin, smiling slightly again. "Myself, either. That's why I didn't stay there, or at Igen," he notes with a nod. For Yselle, his smile brightens again and he watches her go a moment before he sets off again. "Ah, please. Follow me?" And he scurries off. Yselle looks even more askance, as, glancing over her shoulder, she catches R'hin watching her walk. She quickens her pace, almost tripping over her own feet. So much for the poised weyrsecond. Yselle disappears down the tunnel that leads out of the Telgar Caldera. Yselle has left. R'dur has left. Telgar's Weyrgardens(#7772RDFJLM$) Here, the rocky hillside of the Telgar volcano has been cleared and terraced into several cascading gardens. Stone walls have been built and the resulting shelves filled in with fertile earth from the Telgar Plains, supplemented by fertilizer from the compost heap. Waterways have been carved into the stone of the mountain to divert water to some gardens and away from others. In the winter, straw and burlap tarps cover the ground and protect it, but once spring arrives, this is as lush a place as any at the Weyr. Contents: PLAYERS: R'hin R'dur M'wen has arrived. R'dur, leading the way into the gardens, pauses at the entrance to glance back for his companions; he walks slowly inside then, making a couple of gestures to highlight key areas. "Ah, this is--this is one of my favorite spots, mine and my weyrmate's," he admits after a moment. "Telgar's best-kept secret. Ista has... Well, they might have plants longer in the turn, but I've always--I've always thought Telgar's were as beautiful despite their shorter lifespan." He shrugs mildly. "Quite the nice place you have up here, though seems a bit complicated to get too..." M'wen says, looking around at the hillside garden. "We were told about Ista's pool and garden, but never got the chance to go see it, maybe I will one of these days and compare the two..." R'hin seems entirely too pleased at the reaction Yselle has as the Weyrsecond departs, grin lingering as he follows R'dur's lead. As they arrive at the Weyrgardens, lips purse and he glances about with interest. "This is... different. Kind of a break with tradition, isn't it? More greenery to have to protect during Threadfall." The words are said neutrally, so as not to offend, an observation and nothing more. "It is very lovely," he admits, before a tip of head is given M'wen's way. "I'll be in that. I think another trip to Igen is in order at some point, too. We didn't actually get much of a chance to look around when we were there," he notes, wryly. "You--you mentioned the Sandbar?" ventures R'dur. "I've visited it as well, once--it was a nice place." Though his cheeks redden to admit it. Quickly, he continues, "Igen is very nice--I've friends there still, a few of them, though I was only there about a month before I came further north. Too much sand--I'd not have gone there at all except my boat from Southern docked in the region." "Our trip to Igen was 'interrupted', so we didn't get to meet to many people around there, and the Istans we met didn't take too well to R'hin here, but they still had some features to them we can't have up in the northern regions, like a good warm beach for example." says M'wen. "I liked the Sandbar," R'hin confesses, "One of the more fascinating things we've found so far," he says, noting the reaction from the Telgarian with a flicker of brows in silent inquiry. "Igen seemed quite hospitable-- well, largely. If you discount the grumbling when someone from outside their Weyr had the audacity to chase one of their golds." A low chuckle from the bronzerider, as he opines, "Very few people seem to take too well to me, M'wen. If anything, it should be a measure of how quickly they assess their visitors." "There are other good... places, similar to the Sandbar," notes R'dur hesitantly. "There's one in Boll that I've--that I've, well, visited, once or twice, though the name escapes me at the moment." He strolls easily through the gardens, gazing at plants with interest before he pauses to look at the visitors again. "Ah. It's unfortunate that your, ah, visit was interrupted. I hope everything is okay?" M'wen arches an eyebrow at R'hin, "Seems that other places have 'liberated' the bar idea already, guess it means they don't mind, all the better for us I guess." Looking back at R'dur, "Nah, it was ok, we still got a good view of Igen from inside a guest weyr, so its better then nothing." "Boll, hm? Perhaps we should make that first on our list?" R'hin suggests thoughtfully to M'wen. The bronzerider's less interested in the plants than R'dur is, but dutifully follows nonetheless. He chuckles at M'wen's comment, agreeing, "Seems like. It doesn't seem to be an entirely new idea, at the least." An easy nod answers R'dur's query, "It was our first, and entirely unplanned, as you can imagine. Still, everything turned out.. well," there's a hint of amusement in his tone as he says this, a twitch of lips. "Can't say as I'm sorry to see those particular restrictions go out the window, either." R'dur blinks at M'wen, pausing to turn and look at him. "Oh. Oh!" he says, in some surprise. "You mean--didn't one of their--a gold--" His blush is back, more intense than ever. "I was very careful /not/ to be there," he admits. The look he gives R'hin is plainly surprised, the brownrider's brows arching upward sharply. "You actually /enjoyed/ that? Looked /forward/ to it?" R'hin gives R'dur a long, surprised look, taking note of the blush and the man's reaction. "Interesting," he observes, briefly. "I wouldn't think a rider of your age would react like a teenager receiving his first kiss." Tone is somewhat bland, but manages to convey a hint of amusement just the same. A shrug of shoulders is his initial response, as if it should be obvious. "Of course. After a Turn and a half of hands-off? You can't tell me -you- enjoyed that particular restriction?" he glances sidelong at M'wen, to gauge his fellow 'Reachian's reaction as well. M'wen's expression remains blank, not reacting positively or negatively towards R'hins comments. His whispers quiestly across to him, so R'dur can't hear, "This is what you were talking about when you said you had -bad- diplomacy skills." Turning back to R'dur, he smiles envouragingly, with a glint to his eye, awaiting the brownriders response. "Enjoyed?" answers R'dur, frowning. "Well, no. But minded? No, not that, either." He's still red-cheeked, and now regarding R'hin more uncertainly. "I've been at the Weyr for almost seven turns now. It's not something I care to adjust to," he notes, more than a little defensive. He shuffles his feet quickly and turns, gesturing somewhat desperately toward a plant. "This isan, uh, it's... I'm not sure what it is, exactly, but I like it," he finishes lamely. A sudden cough from the bronzerider is R'hin's attempt to unsuccessfully cover his sudden mirth at M'wen's quiet comment. Eyes shining with barely withheld amusement, he agrees, "You could be right at that, o wise leader. Thank you." The gratitude seems just as sincere, and the 'Reachian does his best to alter his initial response to something a little less confrontational. "Seven Turns, hm? I suppose it is difficult to adjust if you're set in a certain way of thinking. Holder?" he inquires. The brownrider's attempt to change the subject to the nature of plants is blithely ignored, however. M'wen's smirk is easily visible as he views R'hin, the laughter easily visible in his eyes, but he stays quiet, prefering to enjoy this without further embarrassing the Telgarian host. He admires the pointed out plant, making sure to slightly exagurate his movements to show R'hin how you disengage a possibly troublesome topic, which happens to not be a talent R'hin possesses. R'dur focuses an intent gaze on the plant in question; R'hin's latter words do little to settle him again. "Ah, yes. I am. Was. Originally. And, unlike many, I've--I've not found it necessary to... to completely abandon my morals just because I abandoned my--my /home/." M'wen's attendence on the plant as well is observed with a hesitant half-smile from the rider, a gesture not extended to the bronzerider. "But, I thought you were saying this was your home, now? And that's why it's special?" R'hin's questions aren't intended as interrogation, mere curiousity, but they could certainly come across as otherwise. "And it has very little to do with morals. It's simply the lifestyle you must adapt to, when you impress a dragon, don't you think?" He doesn't seem unaware of M'wen's silent attempts to diffuse the situation, judging by the wry kind of glance he gives, "My apologies," he says, abruptly, to the Telgarian. "I don't mean to put you on the spot. I'm just interested in other people's takes on things, and why they think the way they do. I find it fascinating." M'wen nods, "I was hold born as well, but a couple years of travel before I ended up at the 'Reaches let me see quite a wide range of different lifestyles, and the one in a weyr was easy enough to adapt too. Still seems a bit different to me, but a couple turns can change alot if you go with the change instead of against it." It doesn't take much to cow R'dur completely, just one . The meek brownrider isn't quite meeting R'hin's eyes when he offers his shrug. "I--I suppose. It's just--it's not--I can't--" he fumbles, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. "It's not something that I can just... I don't understand the people who can... well." He finishes with a tight frown. "I've--I've known people who can adjust, or who, well. Who were... like that, to start with. I'm not. I can't--that's not something I can really change. I assure you, it's been tried." His smile is not a particularly humorful attempt. R'hin spreads his hands wide in an effort to assuage R'dur, "I'm not trying to change you. I'm intrigued by it. Perhaps it's just a reflection of a strong-willed nature... or a stubborn one." The words are light, and accompanied by an easy grin with the intention of taking any sting out of the words, though perhaps it's far too late for that already. He nods towards M'wen, agreeing, "Some people adapt to change better than others. Personally, I'm of the opinion that change is almost always change for the better, that we ought not rely on what has gone before as a basis for how we should live now." His voice has taken on an odd kind of intensity, though his fellow 'Reachian can probably tell he's holding back somewhat. M'wen nods at R'hin, with a look of...respect? in his eyes. Not something expected to be seen directed at R'hin anytime soon, but then again, R'hin being nice to someone is strange enough indeed. "You should feel honoured R'dur, for the first time this entire tour, R'hin is tolerant of other views." He gives a joking grin to R'hin, to show he's not entirely being serious, then turns to R'dur, awaiting a response. R'dur glances sideways R'hin, brows knitting. "Not always," he notes simply, with marginally more conviction than earlier. "There's often a reason for the way things are. Before one goes changing anything, you have to understand that reason and whether it's still valid or not. If it's not, then change is better; otherwise..." He trails off, shrugging. For M'wen, he has another small smile, noting, "That's... reassuring. I think?" He shoots a quick look at R'hin again, wary. A low chuckle from R'hin indicates that he takes M'wen's comments in the vein with which they were intended. "True enough, true enough," he concedes to R'dur's point. "Getting people to look at things to decide if change needs to be made - that's the heart of the issue. People are all too often set in their ways, and too comfortable to change. I mean that in the general sense," he adds, for R'dur's benefit. Another chuckle soon follows, as the bronzerider agrees, "It should be. I may get out of this without riling the Telgar locals up to a lynching yet." "The same can't be said about our other visits, but we'll say that didn't happen for now, I don't want to feel guilty all over again..." M'wen sighs slightly, remembering all to well how this weyrling duo has an inability to go somewhere without offending -someone-. "Yeah that is good, took me over a turn to do, only took you this short while." R'dur studies R'hin a moment, askance. "Do you often do that?" he asks after a moment. "It seems safer, in that case, to remain in the Reaches, where at least people know to expect such things." He frowns, glancing uncertainly from one weyrling to the other. "Hey, Fort wasn't -my- fault," R'hin reminds M'wen with some amusement, seeming to take a little bit of glee with the words. Hands slip into his pockets as he nudges the leaves of one of the plants with the toe of his boot. "Often offend people? It seems so. Me? I think people take offence far too quickly to things that are of little importance. People seem to object when I ask them to explain their views and suggest other avenues." Now that's a diplomatic way of putting it. Brows flicker at the Telgarian's suggestion, a hint of irritation brief, though his voice takes on that tone of intensity once more. "And why should I? Allow them to live in their safe little worlds and refuse to open their eyes to other things? Other Weyrs? Other possibilities?" M'wen eyes the two riders in front of him curiously, awaiting a response to R'hin's vehement opinion on the subject at hand. Sitting down on a small rock, he looks around at all the garden, keeping an ear ready to hear what R'dur has to say. "You remind me of someone I knew, once, years back," admits R'dur to R'hin, frowning. "He had the same talen for offending people, though I think it was, ah, more maliciously done than yours seems to be." With pinkened cheeks, he offers a rather apologetic smile and finally shrugs. "I... I've seen the other avenues. I don't care for them," he answers after a moment. "I'll take that as a compliment," R'hin decides, as if it would be fairly easy for him to take R'dur's comment otherwise. After a long look at the Telgarian, he nods in acceptance. "That's your right. And I thank you for taking it... better than you could have." That, too, is tentative compliment, though the way it's phrased it might be hard to discern. He gives M'wen a look as if to say, 'See? I can be diplomatic!' before he adds, "Weren't we going to see the eggs, while we were here?" M'wen nods, "Well we were going to until we ran into these nice two telgarians who showed us their garden. Maybe we still can...R'dur, thank you for showing us telgars garden, and putting up with us, but would you mind if we go have a look at the eggs on the sands?" R'dur's smile is wry. "I'm not a fighter, even verbally," he admits, downplaying his own reaction. For M'wen's question, he has a quick nod. "Of course. You're--you're welcome to them. To see them, I mean. Ah. You're welcome, of course, to return for the hatching--I don't believe it will be much longer. My candidates are so anxious." Their coordinator, too, to judge by the way R'dur gives his hands a quick nervous wring. "How many?" R'hin asks, undoubtedly referring to the eggs rather than the candidates. "I haven't seen a clutch since High Reaches' actually. I hope I'm able to make the hatching, too. It'll be... interesting seeing it from the other side." He half glances at M'wen, as if to see if the brownrider's likewise interested. "Yeah I haven't either, and I intend to come to the hatching, now that our flight restrictions are off for the most part." M'we says, looking slight excited at seeing another clutch. "Are you going to come with us R'dur?" "It is, certainly," agrees R'dur, nodding. "I'm--I'm terrified, actually. What if one of them gets hurt? Mauled? Killed?" He takes a deep breath, preventing himself from seguing into total panic--save that for the actual hatching. Instead, waffling over M'wen's question, he notes, "Ah. I'd--well, perhaps for a little bit. I promised Yselle earlier I'd do something with Ysalia--my daughter--tonight, so I can't stay long." "If something does happen, it's hardly your fault. The dragons do what they will," R'hin says, with a shift of shoulders. "Unless you're going to be out there physically hauling candidates out of the way, once the humming starts your job is over." He turns on a heel, remembering the way back out of the gardens, walking even as he says, "We'd welcome the company, if you don't mind." There. Diplomatic. You make your way from the bowl, through the massive entrance to the Hatching Cavern. Galleries(#382RDJM$) Stretching along the eastern wall of the hatching cavern, these tiers of seats have enough room for several hundred spectators for Clutchings and Hatchings. To one side, long shallow steps descend to the entrance. There is also a railing separating the lowest tier of seats from the Hatching Sands themselves. Other parts of the galleries are closed off from the sands by a wall to the north and south. From here you can reenter the bowl, or follow the pathway down to the Sands. The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior is shining brightly as a full moon while Timor shines in half moon. It is completely still, no winds blow and the spring air feels a bit nippy. Contents: PLAYERS: R'hin R'dur Obvious Exits: Bowl Sands M'wen enters the galleries from the bowl. M'wen has arrived. R'dur shakes his head, heading into the galleries and scanning the clutch quickly. "I--I'd still feel responsible," he notes quietly. "It's my fault for not preparing them better. For getting them into the situation in the first place." M'wen has a look of sympathy for R'dur, "I'm sure nothing will happen to them, just make sure they keep their wits about them and no harm will come to any of the candidates." He nods towards R'hin, "Our hatching went off without a hitch, not one single injury or even close call." The Telgarian receives a long, thoughtful look from R'hin. "Then I hope for your sake," he murmurs in a lower voice as they enter the galleries, "That no one is injured. Else I suspect you're the sort that will bear that guilt as a personal burden." A twitch of lips is his answer to M'wen, "Yes, it went smoothly - except for the part where I impressed." Tone is dry enough that it doesn't give indication as to whether he's simply being facetious or not. For M'wen, R'dur has a nod, a quick flash of smile. "Thank you," he tells him, and glances to R'hin to include him in those words. Though, at the bronzerider's latter comment, his expression changes, brows knitting as he shifts to confusion. He says nothing, however, for not knowing how to interpret the comment. M'wen grins slightly at R'hins use of words, "Well thats at least probably what S'din thinks, as far as I can tell." Nodding to R'dur, "I'm just saying what I think on the matter...dragonets can be dangerous, but if you teach the candidates that, then you'll have a much smaller chance of a tradgedy. Remember VSC R'hin? seemed to work for us." R'hin's hand runs along the railing as he studies the eggs. "They seem smaller than I remembered." His expression has a bit of a distant look to it, and he's unaware of R'dur's confusion. Glancing sidelong at M'wen, he chuckles briefly. "Mmmhmm. I'd say you're right at that." With a grimace at the reminder, he adds, "That was a stupid saying. All we needed to remember was to keep an eye on where they were. It's not like they were deliberately setting out to try and maul us." "Ah, VSC?" queries R'dur, frowning slightly as he peers to M'wen. "I've--I've been trying to impress that on all of them, but, well. I'm afraid some of them think I'm only being a worrywort," he adds sadly. Gee, wonder where they got that idea from. M'wen sighs slightly, "Then I guess they will have to learn first hand what it feels like to be impaled on the claws of a hungry dragonet. Of course I hope that doesn't happen, but if they refuse to listen, thats all that will come of it. Sorry if I can't give more reassurance, but I listened to the weyrling master and knew the dangers beforehand as someone told me about the mauling at Igen...or was it Ista? Well it was one of the I-- ones." "I'd suggest visual aids," R'hin advises without turning around, eyes still roving over the eggs. "Find a rider who was mauled during a hatching, and get them to show off the scar. Scars always make for a good impression." He does half turn, visibly surprised at M'wen's seemingly callous attitude, earning a considering look from the bronzerider. R'dur looks a little paler than usual as M'wen mentions an actual case of a mauling at a recent hatching. "I heard about that," he notes, shifting his head. "I--It's awful to imagine. I remember, my younger brothers saw a hatching once. They were actually /disappointed/ it was so painless." He shudders at the prospect, though he gives R'hin another quick glance. "That's... I suppose so. I don't know that I, well. Know of anyone, personally, or that they'd want to--to /talk/ about that, but... Thank you, for the suggestion." M'wen nods, "I'm just happy our hatching was relativly bloodless. The assistant steward at our weyr told me how some candidates arm was ripped off or something. That'd be terrible to have happen to you. Instead of impressing a dragon, you lose an arm..ugh" He pulls a slight face of revulsion, "But it seems injuries are rarely as severe as that, and your hatching will probably be bloodless as well." R'hin's lips purse. "Well, I figure we'll be up on the ledges for Telgar's hatching, so we'll miss any close up views of gore," he says, the words meant to be joke, but they could easily fall flat given the subject matter. "Most people are happy to show off their scars, I think. It's the cool factor." There's a long pause, then surprised, "Harley said -that-?" he seems impressed. "I must've missed that." R'dur gulps, staring aghast at M'wen. "I, uh, I wasn't familiar with that particular story," he notes delicately. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention." His smile is more grimace. "Cool factor," he mutters, not sounding very convinced. M'wen shakes his head at R'hin, "Theres a diference between cool factor and...well...stump factor in this case, it wouldn't really be the same to say 'hey look at my scar' and point to the missing limb..." looking at R'dur, "Though you can bring it to the attention of your candidates, that seems like something they'd listen to." glancing back to R'hin, "Oh yeah, Harley said that." "It's worth a try, if nothing else's worked," is R'hin's opinion on the matter. "So, ten eggs," he concludes, "From what I can count. I suppose that's to be expected, for an interval. We're just..." eyes drift towards M'wen, "...biding time until thread falls again. No need to overpopulate." He grimaces briefly at M'wen's comment, conceding the point with a shift of shoulders and sharp tip of head. R'dur is starting to look a little green around the gills as the discussion continues. He nods once, weakly, and then in a determinedly light tone asks, "So, ah. Why don't you... why don't you... tell me more about yourself? This is--about average now, yes." He glances quickly over the eggs for a moment. "Biding--biding time, is it?" M'wen nods, "Well we had 10 eggs in our clutch, so it seems to be a good even number for the golds to clutch. Gonna be a -long- 200 turns if biding our time is all were doing..." R'hin seems, if anything, bemused at R'dur's question about them. "What's to tell? We've been weyrlings for nearly two Turns. We have no life outside drills and practice and - in my case anyway - far too many laps of the bowl. I think I can count every dent and bump in the ground from memory alone." Self-deprecating humour is apparent, eyes drifting upwards as if intending to do just that. "Yes," he eventually says, to M'wen, "It will be, won't it?" Turning from the eggs, leaning back against the railing, he observes to R'dur, "Well, isn't that what we're doing? Dragonriders are meant to fight Thread. There's no Thread to fight, not for a long while." R'dur nods slowly at that, half-turning to regard the eggs better. "Ah, yes. Gone are the days, I suppose, when they'd have thirty or even forty eggs to a clutch," he remarks idly, much more at ease with this polite, easy chatter than talk of gore or uncomfortable, grilling questions. "It--it /is/, I suppose. You must... You sound like you actually wish to fight it?" Uncertainly, he casts another look backward at R'hin. "Well now all that would do is cause dissension amoung the holders by the increase in tithes we'd need." M'wen points out, "And considering now they don't need us to guard their halls from thread, I'd doubt we'd be recieving it." "Isn't it better to have a purpose, than be bred-- or selected-- for a purpose, but be unable to fulfil it? It's... wasted energy, wasted ability." R'hin's mostly studying R'dur as he talks, eyes on the Telgarian as he tries to get a measure of how the brownrider reacts to his words. Eyes flick to M'wen briefly with an agreeable nod, then back, "Even though thread is gone for two hundred years, we still train, practice, and prepare as if we're expecting it to fall tomorrow. There's so much more we could be doing." A hint of frustration in his voice, though faint at best. "Alidaeth feels it," R'dur remarks quietly as he shifts his weight and finally steps forward to seat himself on one of the long gallery benches. He leans forward, palms on his knees as he watches the floor. "I feel it. It doesn't mean I want to face it--I don't think I could, really. I'm not--I'm... it's not an easy thing to do, risking one's life every day." He shakes his head. "Practicing, preparing, it's--it's enough purpose for me. What else would you have us do, sir?" "Of course you feel it," R'hin says, as if he expected that. "None of us know whether we could, and none of us will get that chance. Our grandchildren's children might." If he seems at all perturbed by a Telgar Wingsecond calling him - a weyrling - a sir, it doesn't show. "Do? Find something, some purpose for our existence, other than to breed. We all want our lives to -mean- something. I don't know about you, but I don't particular fancy dying as just another rider who went through the motions, never doing anything outside what is... expected." R'dur hesitates, still frowning at his feet. "There's meaning enough in my life," he remarks after a brief moment, with more resolve than he's generally displayed this night. "In my friends and family, my daughter and weyrmate, for me. It's--it's all I ever desired for myself. I don't... I don't have some grand drive to be--to be famous, or infamous, or whatever it is that drives you. What /would/ you do? Make yourself wingleader, weyrlingmaster--Weyrleader, even? Or are your goals grander than that?" It's a surprisingly direct question from the shy brownrider, nevermind he's still not looked up at R'hin. "No." The syllable falls swiftly and resolutely from the bronzerider's lips. "I've no wish to lead. That is for others to do. But I see people who are presented with opportunities to change things, to make things different, better - who sit back and do nothing. I see people who are in a position to give us purpose and meaning simply allowing tradition to dictate what we do. I see the past repeating itself again in two hundred Turns' time." R'hin's voice is low, but has that kind of heated intensity to it that colors his stronger opinions on things. "You have meaning in your life - as a -person-. But as a -rider-? As a defender of Pern?" brows flicker upwards questioningly. R'dur's answer is hesitant, though he seems, at least, not so terrified of R'hin as he did upon the earlier round of questions. "It sounds," he notes after a moment, carefully, "like you expect the burden of leading, of setting these... new purposes, to fall to others, who are not meeting those expectations. I'm... not sure what answer you expect of me. I--I've always been told that an opportunity is what you make it. My purpose is to carry on, to make sure that when there is Thread again, there will be those ready to fight it. If you know something better for us, then it does seem you /should/ be desiring to lead, not to follow along and grumble about how other people are doing the job." R'hin spreads his hands, smile self-deprecating, honest, "I'm not a good person. I'm not a person people follow. You've seen why. I lack particular skills. Some people take what I say and listen, and - I think - are better for it. Some do not. It's a pot shot." He seems resigned to the fact, and not at all apologetic about it. "I don't expect any particular answer. I'm interested in what you -think-. There's nothing saying we can't continue preparations for the eventual return of Thread. But does it make sense for us to do it every single day? That's like cleaning a room every single day, when you know it won't be used for another two hundred Turns. If you do it once a week, you'll still know how to do it when the time comes, but those other six days - you could be doing something else." "I've seen worse," R'dur notes, with a small, rather sad smile. "When you rely on dragons to determine your highest positions, you don't always end up with the people you might choose on your own." He lifts his shoulders again, and points out, "You still haven't said, sir, what you'd rather we did. I can't choose a door when I don't know what's behind it." A slow nod, approving, as R'hin agrees, "Therein lies the difficulty. Leadership in a Weyr is not even determined by desire, but by randomness. Whoever Impresses the gold. Which is the first gold to rise. Which bronze is wily enough to catch her. Random on random on random." He exhales slowly, as if composing his thoughts. "There is plenty we could do. I would not wish to see us become beasts of burden, but we have the ability to go places and do things others can't. With the end of the Pass, there are Holdless and Renegades everywhere, hiding in every nook and cranny. As a wingsecond, perhaps you see the reports. What better use for dragonriders than to build a wing who's purpose is to investigate such matters, to track down the culprits, to find out where the renegades hide? And, to prevent a return to a massing of Lord Holders at our gates in two hundred Turns time, a wing whose purpose is to foster diplomatic relations with the Holds and Halls in our respective coverage areas, as well as those outside. To create goodwill, so that when the time comes, there will be no hesitation in their support of us. No begging for tithes, or eating the scraps off their table the further away we get from Thread. Just two ideas. The possibilities are endless." M'wen has been listening the entire time, eyes roving back and forth between the bronze rider and the brown rider. "Maybe the weyrs can work towards self sufficiency, so that we don't even need the tithes? That not only creates things to do, but ensures the lord holders will never have reason to retaliatie against the dragonriders. Just a thought is all..." R'dur bites his lip, then manages a small smile for R'hin. "And would you be part of this diplomatic wing?" he asks--a joke, from R'dur? How odd. At any rate, he continues after a moment, "I... We've not had much trouble with renegades here, though I've seen a few reports of such. There was the, ah, the incident at the Beastcraft Hall, which my wing and a group of Istans helped investigate, but..." He trails off with a shrug, and a glance to M'wen. "You've ideas, then. Have you brought these things to your Weyrleaders' attention? I'm sure they would be grateful for the suggestions, or at least for your offering your opinions," he says earnestly. "There you go," R'hin nods to M'wen, "Another good idea. Like your garden here - but plant crops, instead. Crafts, too - we have so many crafters that Impress and are forced to leave their craft behind due to their duties. With no Thread falling, why -can't- they continue practicing? It ensures you'll always have crafters of varying skill levels in the Weyr, and it enables the posted crafters to spend more time journeying to smaller areas." He blinks for a moment at R'dur's joke - certainly not expecting it - then laughs delightedly, eyes shining. The laughter fades eventually, as he says, "I've ideas. The difficulty lies in finding people willing to listen and consider them. You are one. M'wen was another. There's a few others here and there, but they are few. As for my Weyrleader? I haven't seen him since the hatching. It's difficult to find opportunity to find out if he'd be receptive when he's never spoken a word to me." "K'ran--our Weyrleader--was my mentor," notes R'dur. "I was very lucky in that regard. I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with your leaders, though--I was a weyrling still the last time I visited High Reaches," admits the rider. "I met your weyrwoman there--ah, Josilina? And her junior, the weyrwoman Satiet, whom it's been my, ah... pleasure," he settles on a word," to speak to a couple of times here since then." His smile is a little dry this time. Leiventh and Maxeoth sense that Alidaeth notes lazily, « Give my regards to Teonath's when you return. » The image accompanying those words is one stolen from R'dur's thoughts: a thoroughly cowed R'dur looking aghast as, in vivid slow motion, Alidaeth uses his muzzle to shovel a load of snow all over an equally horrified-looking Satiet. Voice even, so as to cover any hint of personal feelings on the matter, R'hin says, "We were never assigned mentors." A little tip of his head, and a glint of amusement at the mention of Satiet. "Yes, I can see you've had the... pleasure," he echoes R'dur's word with precise intonation, "...of meeting our lady of the spires. She tends to stand out." With a slow breath, he adds, "In any case, I'm sure you can see the difficulties with me - a mere weyrling held in poor regard by many - being listened to. I'm curious, however - do you think it a poor idea?" Leiventh> Alidaeth and Maxeoth sense that Leiventh's crimson tones splash in response to the contact, a slight pause distinctive. « We will, » he responds simply. There's a faint flicker of amusement at the image, but it seems more from his rider's behalf than his own. The bronze seems approving of snow, and that particular use of it. R'dur grimaces. "Alidaeth brings that up every time someone mentions her. I don't think he'll ever forget it," he says with a frown--nevermind the dragon must surely get the image from his rider's mind, as he can't remember it on his own after so long. R'dur, however, doesn't fret long on that fact; instead, his expression drifts to thoughtful. "I... No, I don't," he answers slowly. "I can--I can understand your... worries, and it certainly seems well thought-out. It certainly seems a reasonale proposal to me." R'hin makes no attempt to hide his amusement at the image Leiventh passes on. "I can just imagine her reaction," he says, almost wistfully. His expression takes on a slightly more serious cast at R'dur's words, nodding slowly, hint of gratitude in his expression. "That means a lot," he confesses. "Especially since we... didn't get off on the best foot," he sends a wry glance in M'wen's direction. "Perhaps if you have any further ideas or suggestions on the matter, you could come and speak to me?" he invites, head tipped as attention shifts back to R'dur. "You've been riding longer than M'wen or I." "I was horrified," admits R'dur sheepishly. "Though..." That simple trailing off is enough to indicate that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so upset after all. "I'll--I will," he decides, standing again. "And thank you, for coming. You're--you're always welcome, of course. Do return sometime--our hatching, don't forget that. Just--please don't tell me stories of maulings then?" he asks hopefully. "I should be on my way, though--I still have to go see my daughter Ysalia. She'll never forgive me if I don't," he notes wryly as he turns to slip away. "Good night." "I won't forget. I'm looking forward to seeing the hatching." R'hin admits, pushing away from the railing as R'dur rises. "It was a pleasure meeting you, sir. We probably ought to be heading back to the 'Reaches, ourselves." The bronzerider shoots a querying look at M'wen at that last. M'wen nods his head, "Thanks for showing us around the weyr R'dur, we appriciated it, whether it seems like it or not." Giving a smile to R'dur while saying this. "I wouldn't miss the hatching for anything! I'll be there." M'wen walks out into the bowl. M'wen has left. You walk into the Central Bowl from the Galleries. |
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