Logs:Southern Escape
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| RL Date: 29 October, 2011 |
| Who: E'gin, Emme, Meara, Riorde |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Meara takes weyrlings outside the weyr for the first time since their Impression. |
| Where: Southern Beach |
| When: Day 4, Month 2, Turn 27 (Interval 10) |
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| The weather outside is frightful, but the fir-- well. It may be nice and warm inside, this afternoon, but Isath's there to extend a tendril towards the weyrlings, inviting, cheerfully, « We'd like to go someplace warm. Without sleet. Who remembers the visual we practiced for Southern? » Initial Between classes have been going on for a week or so, now; but thus far, jumps have been restricted to within High Reaches. (Isath to all Flurry dragons) To all Flurry dragons, Rhazekth perks up immediately of course. -Warm-? What is this warmth he keeps hearing about. « I do, I do! » The enthusiastic mental equivalent of a sandstorm goes rushing out towards the other weyrlings in his eagerness to show that he is in fact *good* at this one thing. To all Flurry dragons, Sforzath's immediate rush of enthusiasm, the sense of a 'Yes!' is tempered immediately thereafter by a pulsing hesitation, the discussion - or argument - between himself and his weyrling that bleeds beyond the boundaries of their personal communication as Sforzath forgets himself in his eagerness. It can't have gone unnoticed that Riorde's reluctant when it comes to Between. To all Flurry dragons, Vysravth is quiet for a moment, the only indication of his presence is the feeling of a shifting in the ground. « We shall be between to warmth then? » The soft rumbling of a groan as an ancient machine awakens in the bowels of his thought. « We welcome the challenge, youknowwhatI'msayin'? » Firmly, « Show me your images. Meet me in the sky. » Isath shares only the sensation of warmth, of sun on their backs and crashing waves to frolic in; the image will have to come from them. To Sforzath, she adds, « We will talk with yours later. Encourage her. We will check your visualisations carefully; there won't be any accidents. » Not on /her/ watch. In the sky high above the weyr, the green springs off from her ledge, using careful wingbeats to keep her position level as she waits for her students. (Isath to all Flurry dragons) To all Flurry dragons, Rhazekth wallows in warm water, and suns himself on vast stretches of sand; perhaps his imagination is a little too good. As he nearly forgets to actually take off him his ledge! Nevertheless, he projects his image of Southern to Isath as the pair wing out to the bowl. There is no wallowing in Vysravth his own mindscape vanishes to be replaced with a replication on Southern's beach, from lapping waves to each rock on the coast line. These two have not be slacking, their annoying habit of asking every older rider they encounter to envision places for them is perhaps paying off, still there is hesitation. They have, of course, never visisted these places, or any places. (Vysravth to all Flurry dragons) The meticulousness of Sforzath's image bears Riorde's touch, to the extent that her perfectionism admits that inner anxiety, which she hasn't been so good at keeping to herself in the past month. Sforzath is precise too in this, checking his own visualisation against the others'. (Sforzath to all Flurry dragons) To all Flurry dragons, Isath provides a careful examination of each offered visualisation, providing careful adjustments as necessary, though she seems - generally - to find them satisfactory. There's approval, non-verbal, in her mental touch, as she shares her own image, matching it to each of theirs. Firmly, « They are good. You've done well, all of you. When you are ready, » she pauses a moment. « When your riders are ready. We will follow you. Go at will. » But no rush; Isath is watching, waiting, confident. » Vysravth blinks in from the cold of between, his bulky body gliding on a few yards before a power stroke is needed to lift him higher again. There is a barely hidden look of relief about E'gin, whose grinning wildly at the accomplishment, a fist pump of glory. "Oh man! It is warmer here..." The brown spirals in large lazy circles, victory laps of sorts. » Sforzath is the last of the weyrling dragons to arrive, appears out of between with no fanfare, mental or trumpeted, mind closed to the others through his strict concentration on the task and on his rider. Riorde sags in relief once they've broken through into the warmth, her face pale but soon to gain colour under the influence of the Southern sun. Sforzath carries them out over the beach on a slow, steady glide. » Rhazekth is confident enough in this one thing that when he and Emme appear from ::Between:: they both appear, well, relaxed and pleased. "It -is-." tshe agrees with E'gin, shooting a warm smile over to Riorde when she spies the relief on her fellow weyrlings face. Gliding out over the water in a circular pattern, the brown finally wings himself over to a shaded spot where his rider can dismount. » Following the last of the weyrlings, Isath's moonlit form appears in the sky; before she does anything, there's any obvious pause - a count. One, two, three, fou-- evidently, she's satisfied with the number, the same as left the weyr, because she circles on downwards to come to a complete landing upon the shoreline. « Much better, » she says, approvingly. « And well done! » Her rider, too, seems pleased: the middle-aged greenrider stretches as she dismounts, tilting her head up to meet the afternoon sun. "Well done, all of you. I promise, it gets /easier/." Dismounted from Vysravth E'gin pauses to pat the brown on his haunches. Nothing immediately gushy about the exchange, most like a butt slap between males in a sporting event. "I'm glad we started in weyr." E'gin muses as he takes a few steps away from his mount to get a better view of the area. A grunt of appreciation is given to his surroundings before he turns back to the other weyrlings with a grin, "We made it." So far, their distant upbringing hasn't held them back, or killed any of them. From Sforzath's neckridges, Riorde has regained most of her composure by the time that Sforzath circles back around and settles into a landing alongside Rhazekth, but a touch of her panicky pallor still remains as does the slightly unsettled look in her eyes, despite her determination not to let it show. She's slow in dismounting, disinclined to leave Sforzath and join her class, and at first hangs back while her brown reassuringly looms over her. "Thank you, Weyrlingmaster." Emme is polite, even to a fault. But her underlying nature shows when she makes that final leap off of Rhazekth and heads right for the shore. "We should make sand holds! We haven't made those since... since forever." she exclaims, making hopeful eyes at the other weyrlings. "We'll try different places bit by bit," explains Meara, leaning up against Isath's shoulder as the green lounges on the sand to enjoy the sun's warmth. "Until you're all comfortable. There's no point rushing it." She seems amused by Emme's reaction, but her gaze doesn't linger; it draws back to Riorde, instead, her brow furrowing in obvious consternation. "Riorde?" A quiet, almost hesitant, question. Emme's innocent question receives an odd expression from E'gin, his eyes unfocus for a brief moment, and then his face relaxes. A smile slips slowly across his lips, "Yes, sand holds!" He pauses only send a concerned look back towards Riorde, "Come on, Ri. For Emme, and old times sake." And with that he bounds down the sands after Emme, and too a reliving of their 'glorious' childhood, funny how distance makes everything seem better than it was. Emme's suggestion draws out a little bit of a smile, and there's a nod for E'gin, but Riorde stays quiet so far. Reluctantly, she breaks off her contemplation of the vast vista of the sea and drags her attention over to Meara. "Weyrlingmaster?" she returns, echoing Emme's politeness in a bid to sound unaffected - except now, embarrassment is starting to make her blush. "What? Building sand holds was one of the few *fun* things that we did." Emme points out, looking a little sheepish now that she's gotten both bemused and funny looks. "Come over, Rhaz. Watch us." she encourages her brown, enjoying his unending curiousity as to what they're doing. "What will we be learning next?" is directed towards Meara, perhaps to give Riorde a bit more recovery time. Meara's casualness is epitomised in the way she crouches, now, to unlace and pull off her boots, tucking her socks into them in a haphazard kind of way. Her jacket follows. Riorde's response to her question does not go unnoticed, however, and even as she's going through these motions, she's got half an eye on the brownriding weyrling. "Is everything well?" And quickly, then, as if to distract attention from Riorde, she adds, "Sand holds sounds like fun, Emme. As for what next-- where else do you really want to go? We'll do something of a grand tour, bit by bit. Igen's deserts, Nerat's jungles, Telgar's plains..." "Mine were always better than yours." It doesn't matter whether that's true or not; Riorde's claim operates as an affirmation of Emme's building aspirations. She unfastens her jacket and takes it off, glance darting at Meara again. "I'm not--" She starts a little defensively, then stops. No use pretending. Quieter, "I'm okay now." Emme simply makes a face at Riorde in return for her comments about being better at building with sand. Harumph! "If I can help, just let me know eh?" she murmurs, once the other girl is close enough. Not to embarass. Just to reiterate that she's there. "That sounds wonderful. We'll get to see all of Pern. I look forward to actually seeing the places we've been reading about for so long now." Meara's got her eyes on Riorde, but that doesn't mean she's going to push. "Okay," she says, firmly. "Come talk to someone, if you need to." And that seems to be the end of it, as far as the Weyrlingmaster is concerned, because she now busies herself rolling up the legs of her trousers and removing the rest of her outer clothing. To Emme, "It's one of the most fun parts of weyrlinghood, i think. Even the weyrbred weyrlings often haven't seen everywhere. A few more sevens, and you'll be free to explore wherever you want." If she's hesitant about setting a bunch of exiles on the world at large, it doesn't show in her tone or expression at the moment, at least. "Okay." At least it sounds like Riorde's taking the suggestion on board rather than just giving quick a quick agreement so that this talk can be over and done with. She smiles quickly for Emme and then is happy enough to take up the discussion on exploring greater Pern while peeling off layers of clothing. "Will we still go with you," or another member of Meara's staff, "or in groups, or -- what?" "I'm sorry. Did you say fun and weyrlinghood in the same sentence?" Emme jokes, glancing up and over her shoulder at the older rider with a bit of mischief in her gaze. "I'm glad we've finally gotten to the exploring part though. It will be nice to -see- things. Have a bit of freedom." is added wistfully. "It's already such a treat to have real privacy. Isn't it, Ri? It's taken some getting used to." "Very funny, Emme," says Meara, poker-faced. "Are you trying to imply I've been putting you through most of a turn of drudgery and tedium?" Her face breaks, though, and she grins; apparently, she's both unrepentant and unconcerned about the reality of weyrlinghood. "You'll go accompanied with a weyrlingmaster at all times until we say otherwise, Riorde. There will be /no/ unaccompanied jumps, and you'll have your visuals checked off before each one." And no arguments. "But later, you'll go on your own, as you choose. I still remember," she's apparently changed the subject, "getting my first weyr. It makes all the difference in the world, that privacy. Freedom. Have you lot thought much about wings?" "Okay." The same word again, this time with an undertone of relief. Riorde's not going to be the one that offers any complaint about the conditions applied to betweening. "It's-- different," she says of privacy, with the slight hitch that signals her uncertainty in what word to choose. "I don't think I've ever really been alone before." And, to judge from the way she discusses it, she isn't entirely sure if she likes it. Riorde looks out again as she considers Meara's question, back to the waves and the sea. "A little," she gives, not committing to any further answer at present. If Emme doesn't like the restrictions she certainly doesn't -show- it. Instead, offering a bit of a nod towards the other woman. "Wings? Only a little. I know there's a search and rescue focused wing. I thought Rhaz might enjoy that. Could you explain the others again?" is wondered. "I think it's new for most weyrlings," admits Meara. "Having space. Aside from wealthy holders, it's not like many of us have private rooms beforehand." The weyrlingmaster sinks down into the sand, though she doesn't seem inclined to get involved in any sand hold building. Instead, she digs her toes in, stretching. "Right. Snowdrift does search and rescue, and some diplomacy. Others are less... focused? Glacier, for example. Avalanche keeps a lot of older traditions alive: focused drilling. I could go on." But won't. "You'll get to spend some time with each of them, over the next few months. If you have a preference, it's worth being obvious about it." "Diplomacy might suit you, Emme," Riorde remarks with a glance to the other girl. "I like the drilling, I think. We'll get a different look at how the wings work, won't we, when we start training with them - be interesting to see how the wingleaders are, outside of those meetings." Which Ri's kept up attending after all, affording her time to observe the wingleaders in question. She stretches, arms overhead. There's an audible pop. "I think," she declares, "Sforzath and I are going to go for a swim. Too nice out not to." With the determination to enjoy herself now that she's passed the ordeal of betweening once and has to brave it again on the way back, Ri and her brown start heading for the water. "I... yeah. I think both Rhaz and I have a definite preference. He would love the search and rescue aspect. And I would enjoy the diplomacy." Emme agrees, giving Riorde a wide smile. "And for you, the more traditional route. I like that." She seems amused at the thought of the Wingleaders acting differently outside of the meetings, if only because she's never been to one! "You'll have to tell me if you notice a difference. I'm interested." she prompts, wiggling her fingers as the other goes for a swim. And she... continues to indulge her fancy with wet sand. Meara pays not-entirely-subtle attention to the preferences of the two weyrlings, though she says nothing in particular about it. "Enjoy the water, Riorde," she says to that weyrling, before her attention shifts back to Emme. "It /is/ different, though, seeing how the wings work when you are nominally a part of them, rather than just-- from afar. It's important to see how you work with different wingleaders, too." After that, conversation continues, in various, idle strains, until it's time to - reluctantly! - pack up and head back to the cold. Woe. |
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