Logs:Unsatisfied
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| RL Date: 4 October, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier has a proposal. A'rist has caution. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 11, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr Despite Fayla still holding onto the actual Wingleader's knot, Iceberg has been almost exclusively in H'vier's capable hands for several months now. And it doesn't look like that will change in the near future while the brownrider recovers from the birth of her daughter. There haven't been any noticeable differences in the way the wing has been functioning, either. The bronzerider has more or less stuck to how everything was with Fayla at the helm. More or less. On occasion, H'vier takes out a small group of wingriders, hand-chosen, buys them drinks, sometimes more, and tries to get to know them better. Not everyone has been taken out like this, not everyone is even interested in going when they're chosen, but there's no discernable pattern in who has and hasn't been chosen so far. Today isn't one of those groups, though. Today is just a simple summons for A'rist to meet H'vier in the Snowasis after drills are finished. A'rist has, still, been attending every drill, arriving just slightly early, Lythronath all charged up and ready to go. For the most part, Lythronath has still been all charged up and ready to go after the drills, and today is no exception. What they do to deal with their restlessness after the drills varies; today, it's simple, a trip to the feeding grounds. It means A'rist isn't overly late in his arrival at the Snowasis, the determination so frequently on his face during focused activities with his dragon fading as he enters, breaking into quick smiles (some more heartfelt than others) for those he recognises, though the majority of his attention goes to scanning for his wingsecond. H'vier is sitting at a booth and there's a pitcher of ale on the table with a mug for each of them. He's already drinking from his, gaze unfocused in that recognizable way of a rider conversing internally with his lifemate. He doesn't notice until the younger bronzerider is closer, but once he does, H'vier offers the boy an amiable sort of smile. "A'rist. Glad you could join me." At least he doesn't seem upset that he wasn't more punctual. "Drink?" "H'vier," answers A'rist, sliding into the opposite side of the booth, with a quick few tugs to free his arms from his jacket sleeves, and wriggle out. Dark eyes track up to the pitcher, the glass, and then, when he reaches to fill his glass, to the older bronzerider. There's no apology offered, or even thought of, seemingly, for the delay in his arrival. With glass full, he waits, expectant. Oh, don't worry. H'vier will remember both the lack of punctuality and the fact that it doesn't seem to be a big deal to the younger man. But that's for another time. For now he leans back in his booth and considers A'rist with what appears to be genuine interest as he asks, non-specifically, "How's things?" A'rist doesn't try to hide a bit of a confused look for that question, sitting back, while sliding his glass toward the edge of the table, to keep it still easily within reach. "Things?" It brings a shrug from him. "Same as always, I guess?" Now, a quick glance out to the rest of the Snowasis, looking for... anyone. Anyone from the wing. With eyes roving, he takes a drink, and brings them back to his wingsecond as he swallows. "How are things with you?" Still a bit lost. "I don't know you well enough to know what 'same as always' means, A'rist," is casually pointed out by H'vier. "I'd like to change that." As for himself? He'll answer the question, sort of, but it's clearly not where he wants their conversation to be focused, "I've been better. Things will even out soon enough." "... Right." The younger rider lifts his glass, and takes another drink. "Well it's just me and Lythronath like it always is. So... it's what riders do. Wing stuff," the wingsecond should know what that entails, surely, "and hunting and... you know. That kind of thing." Another shrug. "Just me and him. No kids or anything, so." And he shrugs, eyes lifting briefly to H'vier, and leaving that invitation (if it is one) to hang. "Tell me about Lythronath. Reisoth tells me that he's... interesting." Which is probably a compliment as far as his bronze is concerned. H'vier is less convinced that Reisoth understands what a compliment actually entails. "Lythronath." And A'rist's first instinct is to clam up, which he does, a concerned furrow etching itself in between his eyebrows as he goes, first, distracted, checking for his dragon, and second, checking his memory. When he finds nothing done wrong (recently), dark eyes focus once more on his wingsecond. "Lythronath's not like other dragons. But I can handle it, you don't have to worry." "I'm not questioning your ability. And I'm not worried." H'vier will just get those out of the way right up front, whether A'rist believes him or not. "Neither is Reisoth what I'd consider a typical dragon." See? They have something in common. Now they can be best friends. "And what about you? Are you like other dragonriders? Or are you special, too?" "... Oh." A'rist makes no attempt - perhaps doesn't even think to try the attempt - of hiding the surprise, then puzzlement; it's there, plainly, on his face, and he pushes his back against the booth. Wariness takes over next, and this, barely a second later, is made a bit more unreadable. It winds up looking like incredulity. "I didn't say he was special. Just he's not like other dragons." A beat. "Even Reisoth. And I'm just his rider." "No dragon is like Reisoth," agrees H'vier with a flicker of a thin smile. That's just a given. Never mind that most dragonriders probably feel somewhat similarly about their dragons compared to everyone else's dragons. "Tell me how Fayla, how the Weyr, has been taking advantage of Lythronath's strengths. And how you think they could be doing that more effectively." "That's not how I mean," says A'rist, not thinking much, it would seem, of giving that short correction to his wingsecond. He lifts the glass again, has another drink, a longer drink, a drink that, maybe, buys some time. "I guess," is equally deliberative, once he's set the glass down, "that he's good for getting other dragons competitive. And he's strong. We can go out on really long- tasks, I guess. And not get tired. So we get the longer sweeps, and you see already what he can get other dragons to do in drills and stuff." The words come more quickly toward the end, once he's more settled in the answer he's chosen. Whether H'vier is perfectly aware that that's not what he meant or not, he gives no indication. He's more curious about hearing what the younger bronzerider has to say about his lifemate. "Do you find those tasks satisfying? More importantly," is it more important? "Does he?" A'rist, again, takes a long time to answer, this time using the drink before him only for the purposes of visual delay. He looks at it, turns it, glances up to H'vier, glances back down to the rotating glass. "Some of them." H'vier doesn't ask anything else immediately. He studies the younger man, though, taking a drink while the silence starts to stretch uncomfortably. Or at least it might be uncomfortable if either of them were prone to those sorts of thing. H'vier isn't. Finally, though, he says, "I may have some extracurricular assignments to offer you and Lythronath. But they would need to stay between us. Would you be interested?" A'rist is slightly more prone to this, especially- well, especially with whatever is so interesting that he has to drink his beer and eyeball it so consistently slowly during this conversation. By the end, the younger rider has shifted his weight from one buttock to the other. His focus sharpens when H'vier speaks again. "I don't know. How can I?" "How can you what?" asks H'vier as though he's not sure he's following the other man's train of thought. "Be interested?" "Know. If I'm interested," answers A'rist simply, more at ease again, "if I don't know anything else but that. We don't just... do stuff. Any stuff." "No?" the older man sounds slightly disappointed by this fact. "The assignments come with extra pay. If that piques your interest at all. But the rest comes with a certain amount of trust that I'm not sure I have in you yet, A'rist." H'vier is being honest. That's the start of any good relationship, right? A'rist lifts his head, straightens his shoulders. "No," rings with pride, an affirmation of his previous words, an answer to that almost-question. "I'm not going to just say we'll do things when we don't know what it is." That trust thing, it goes two ways. "That's a shame," is all that H'vier says after a moment, drumming his fingers along the length of his mug. Then he offers a friendly enough smile and says, "Thank you, bronzerider. You're free to go. But we'll speak again soon, hmm?" The inflection is rhetorical. "No," says A'rist, again, another correction, but this calmer, smoother, "it's really not." The dismissal earns a nod from him. The beer is left unfinished, quite unthinkingly; the motion of his slide from the booth and rise to his feet is both carefully thought out and executed. |
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