Logs:Of Draconic Privilege
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| RL Date: 23 October, 2006 |
| Who: M'wen, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 7, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 20:49 on day 28, month 7, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer evening. You land on the shore. You clamber down Leiventh's side to the ground, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching closely. Ice Lake Shore(#5888RJ$) A slope of green grass leads to the shore of a small but deep lake; on all other sides of the lake are peaks of rock upthrust some two dragonlengths from the water's surface. To the southwest a rough trail leads out towards Ruatha Hold. Easily muddied by overenthusiastic dragons, the grassy beach has room for only a few of Pern's protectors before becoming crowded. Contents: Leiventh Obvious exits: Rough Path SKy LAke Maxeoth comes to a landing from above the lake. Maxeoth has arrived. M'wen climbs down Maxeoth's side to the ground, using his foreleg as a step. M'wen has arrived. It's only with the promise of a good scrubbing that Leiventh's been convinced to leave his place by Lhiannonth's side, and R'hin's just emerging from the shallows of the water when the familiar brown is spotted above. Leiventh rumbles in low, pleased greeting, water dripping off him as he ambles for the shore, wings held aloft to dry in the warm summer breeze. Winging in low from the sky, the brown dragon returns the low rumble with a baritone warble of his own, landing on an open patch nearby to the bronze dragon and his rider. M'wen slides down the dragons flank, shucking off his riding jacket into the pouch at Maxeoth's side. The troubled expression that normally had graced his face for the last few days has lifted replaced by an easy smile. "Evening Weyrleader." "You're looking--" R'hin runs a hand through still-damp hair as pale eyes wander over M'wen carefully, aware of the change. "Well. Very well." He sounds oddly relieved by that. "As much as I'd like to lay it at the feet of Lhiannonth's fine clutch, somehow I suspect it's something not of my doing." Lips curve, tone wry. "I won't lie and say that the clutch Leiventh has sired hasn't partially lightened my mood, but it isn't everything." M'wen replies, a low chuckle at R'hin's admission. "I am well, I've finally gotten at least most of my problems off my chest, for now at least." "I'm glad, for that." And by the intent way R'hin studies his friend, it's plain truth, too, the Weyrleader visibly relieved, smiling. "I've been... worried, about you." An odd thing for him to admit, perhaps, but no less the truth. "There's but a few problems I still have, but I won't unload them onto you. They are personal enough that I think I can handle them myself." M'wen responds, a small tilt to his head. His eye's lower modestly, "Thank you for your concern. I think I can do this now." There's a hint of mild reproof in R'hin's voice as he says, "I can handle a few of your personal problems, M'wen. I'm in good spirits. A fine clutch, a gold on the sands, and a Weyrlingmaster open to new ideas." He strides closer, eyes glittering with pleasure. Quietly, "I know you can." His faith in the brownrider is absolute, unshakeable. "It's not that I can't or think you won't be able to help ne, I'd just rather keep this to myself, you know? Its just been causing me so much tension, but I'll figure it out soon enough." M'wen explains, an apologetic smile given to the bronzerider. "I hope your right about this, I...don't want to bring about the fall of myself, or even moreso, others." "Okay." R'hin's voice is reluctant, but accepting, a brief nod given. "I trust you. You know you can come to me, if you need. I'd drop everything." He flashes a smile. "You might not believe it, but I would." His gaze drifts towards Leiventh, and he moves to scoop up his shirt, discarded while in the cold lake, pulling it over his head. "Let's not speak of ill omens tonight, my friend. I have news, instead. You're to be one of the candidate coordinators, with our lady of the spires. What better position to be in, then to influence the hearts and minds of our dragonriders-to-be?" "With Satiet?" M'wen asks, the troubled look starting to return. "I will do it, considering especially the news of my own. Maxeoth has already found his first candidate in the form of Tavrie. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to learn of my new position." His tone ends in a faint hint of jest, as if the rider expects people will get tired of him during candidacy. "I'll make sure to try and find out the thoughts of the prodigies, for likely acomplices or diplomats. I'm not one to mold minds, but I'll see if any harbour sympathy for our cause." He pauses briefly to flash the Weyrleader a smile, "I'll be sure to remember that next time, but I'm your counsel, not the other way around." "Tavrie?" R'hin echoes, with distinct, thoughtful interest, head tipping slightly. "Mm. Good news indeed. So, you were right - Maxeoth has turned out to be a search dragon." He regards the brown anew, approving nod of head given. "I'd like you both to fly out with me on one of the first search wings. I'm curious to watch it in action, from this point of view," his lips curve, and he looks pleased with M'wen's words. "I'daur, too, will watch them closely once they become weyrlings." The latter statement, hover, earns a tight lipped grimace, as if the blunt statement is a bitter pill to swallow. "Indeed," is all he says, blandly, eyes tracking towards Leiventh. Leiventh> To you, Leiventh's mindtones are alive with the whirl of warm summer breezes across his still-drying wings. « You have demanded strength of him, and so he will be. But you cannot have his confidance, as he has yours, R'hin, or you will both fall. » "Indeed he has. He was adament that Tavrie was an ideal choice to stand the sands, so that was good enough for me. I think she'll do well too." M'wen nods, a smile at his first search. "I'd be delighted, as would Maxeoth. We'll show you that he's the best searchdragon in the weyr." M'wen nods happily about the weyrlingmaster, "We shall watch them from the time they are searched until the time they graduate to fighting wings. I won't let you down, and I hope I'daur won't either." He regards the bronzerider curiously at the grimace, "I have my own conusel, do not trouble yourself further with my petty problems." Eyes still fixed on Leiventh, the Weyrleader answers, "Of course, you're right." R'hin smiles, briefly, tone turning brusque, almost business-like, "She's the first, I think - Tavrie, that is. They'll be plenty more coming in over the next few days. Enough to keep you busy - when you aren't on the star stones, that is. As for I'daur-- I haven't his full measure, but he's gained my respect. That's more than I'd hoped for." M'wen gazes at the Bronzerider, trying to understand his manner. Giving an impercepible nod to himself, the brownrider nods again, but for a different reason, "When I'm not on the star stones. I'll be sure to keep our stock of candidates well refreshed. I'll be sure to search the best." He ponders the subject of the weyrlingmaster before responding slowly, "We...have come to terms, I respect him enough to trust the most important part of a dragonriders life with him." "I'm glad, to hear that." R'hin's mostly still, none of the restless pacing or energy that bespeaks his normal agitation; he seems largely at ease. "Perhaps, in time, he will be one to speak of the bigger plan with." But the bronzerider remains guarded still, unsure. "If you've opportunity, you should encourage the candidates to speak to different riders about dragonriding. I don't think--" he pauses, "--it didn't feel as if we were told everything. Maybe ask I'daur to talk to them at some point. I think they ought to see the weyrling memorial before it's too late to change their minds." "The time may come where that would be wise, but now isn't it. I'daur seems inclined to change, but he was still around when thread fell and may hold some of the traditions of the older dragonriders." M'wen is the one pacing slightly, scuffing the ground with his feet. "Maybe have a 'Follow a rider for a day'? I think we had something like that in our candidacy. It would let the people not from the 'Reaches know the way about and teach the candidates about dragonriding and its duties." He pauses, "I will make sure they are told everything and shown the weyrling memorial before it's too late." R'hin runs a hand through his hair, mostly dry now, thanks to the warm air. "No, now isn't yet the time," he agrees. "I'd almost wish we had someone else to help train the weyrlings, but... there's no one else. Maja has her... investigation... keeping her busy." There, too, is another grimace. At the last, he nods, sober, serious, "Thank you, M'wen. I do wonder, if it will discourage many from riding. The harpers," a hint of rancour here, "Have done exceptionally well with their stories." M'wen grimaces slightly, lips twisted faintly, "I'daur is the best we could've gotten at this stage, and will do a commendable job. I just don't know if he can be let in on the plan before the rest of the weyr. There will be hell to play the day the plan is unveiled." His head perks slightly at the mention of Maja, though his question is left unspoken, "For some of them it will do nothing but serve as a warning. Those weak of will are not who we would wish to have either which way. The harpers are harpers." R'hin seems about as inclined as he was on previous occasions to speak of Maja, which is to say, not much. Though there is, perhaps, the faintest of smiles. "I have always said you had a disturbing inside, wise man. Tonight is no exception." He exhales, and glances towards Leiventh, who's watching the pair. "He has a wish to be back on the sands with his mate. I'd best oblige him. I haven't as much freedom to travel, these days; he seems inclined not to leave the 'Reaches." It's spoken a little regretfully. M'wen lets out a small grin at R'hin's comment, an innocent tilt to his head. "I'd rather not ask what you mean, so I'll leave it to my imagination." Looking over at the Bronze he nods, "I don't know much about dragons wanting to stick around with their mate, but it makes sense, and that's where he should be, for show at least." Walking towards his brown, "After the hatching I'm sure you'll be free to travel again and we will make sure to take advantage of that." The Weyrleader gives a low-throated chuckle, obliging his companion by not elaborating. "I'm looking forward to it," R'hin confesses. "Thankfully it won't be nearly so long as our weyrlinghood, nor with such poor company as we had." It's clear he's probably speaking of their former Weyrlingmaster, if the twist of lips is any indication. "I suspect he'll be less protective once the eggs are harder - I hope so, anyway." Leiventh is given a questioning look as he moves towards the bronze, but apparently there's no answer. "Change has already begun, for the better it seems as well. This bodes well for us." M'wen responds, standing beside Maxeoth. "And I assume that's another draconic trait they don't want to mention to you right?" M'wen grabs the jacket from the pouch at his dragons side and puts it on, looking to the Weyrleader for when they are leaving. "What, the draconic privilege of doing things without feeling the need to explain them? Probably," R'hin answers with a low laugh. He's a little slower, having to put on Leiventh's riding straps and throw on his jacket, before he climbs up and nods towards M'wen to signal his readiness. You vault up onto Leiventh's back, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching closely. |
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