Logs:Tuning Out
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| RL Date: 25 October, 2010 |
| Who: Meara, S'ren |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: S'ren has some concerns - Meara is there to help. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there. What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable. Lectures have been a casual thing, thus far: a group of weyrlings clustered around a weyrlingmaster, more conversational than strictly classroom-focused. Today's topic was all about etiquette, despite the informal tone, but the class has now been dismissed, and weyrlings are beginning to wander off, though some of them have remained, many now joined by their curious dragons. Amidst it all, Meara's lazing on one of the battered couches, watching a couple of the smallest dragons chasing tails, an activity that seems to amuse more than concern her. S'ren was one of those just getting out of the class, and indeed Cerveath has now wandered out since the lesson is over. The blue watches the other dragons with a calculating eye before looking at S'ren, then wandering off towards some of the others to study them. S'ren reaches up to scratch his head a moment before he shrugs and looks around, spotting Meara. He heads towards the Weyrlingmaster and pauses, offering a salute...as he's more or less learned to do...before standing there a moment. "Uh, ma'am. You have a moment?" He asks. Meara manages to look more dignified on receipt of that salute than her current posture ought to encourage, though she does swing her legs down and return to a more upright position as she nods. "Of course, S'ren. Is there something on your mind? You want to sit?" She indicates the couch next to her with a dip of her head, but doesn't seem too concerned whether he sits or not - or where. S'ren looks around at the offer to sit, finally doing so with a nod. "Thanks ma'am." He responds with a bit of a smile. He doesn't say anything at first, seeming to try and decide what he wants to say, or perhaps how. Finally..."Is there some way ta...make it easier ta tune out Cerveath?" He asks, glancing towards the blue who seems quite intrigued with the chasing dragons, especially as he calculatingly puts out a tail to trip them up. Sho just shakes his head and looks back at Meara. "I mean, I know that I've always been a troublemaker...but I can't tell if what I'm thinkin' is mine'r his." He pauses as another hand goes through his cropped hair. "If I followed it all there'd be a whole lotta trouble." Meara's gaze follows S'ren's as he glances in Cerveath's direction, and it turns distinctly thoughtful as he extends that tail-- which certainly does do what is intended, resulting in a pile of baby dragon on the floor. No one seems hurt, though, and the game continues. She's silent for a few moments, and then turns her attention back towards S'ren. "But you aren't following it, are you? You're thinking about the consequences, and being an adult." She doesn't let that thought hang, following up almost immediately with, "But as to your question: yes, there are ways. It gets easier over time, but the most important thing is to build mental walls. Not-- blocking him out, mind. But establish boundaries. Visualise. Are you hungry when he is?" To Cerveath, Isath wafts into your attention, her mental touch reminiscent of a moonlit meadow, all swaying grasses and shadow. « Did you enjoy that? » she wants to know, apparently watching through her lifemate's eyes, for she's nowhere to be seen. « Tripping them up. » Mental walls? How easy she makes it sound. S'ren shakes his head at the first question, "No, I don't follow it, but it's...hard. I really want to, I dunno if that's just cause'a how I am or what...but I wanna do some of the things. And it's no so much the consequences as that I just...am to tired ta even really try anything." He admits. Hey, he is a trouble maker. But exhaustion wins. The last question has S'ren crossing his arms uncertainly and leaning back into the couch. "I really...dunno. I can't tell if he's hungry or if I am. Or he's tired or me. It all seems the same." To Isath, Cerveath seems intrigued by the new voice in his mind, turning physically to look a moment before focusing again back on the other dragon-litts. « It's not a matter enjoying it. It was interesting to see what happened. » Comes the reply with a calculating tone. « Their reaction, and how far they fell. » "You're fifteen turns old," Meara points out, without censure; there's something gentle in her tone. "You're /allowed/ to want to do things. You're almost expected to get in to trouble, even if I'd rather you didn't. Though I do understand the exhaustion: this part of weyrlinghood is equal parts awful and wonderful, in my experience." The greenrider considers his last response for a moment, and then nods. "That's normal, for what it's worth. What does he feel like, in your head? Isath, for example, is all moonlight and waving grasses, sort of like I'm being tickled. That's how I eventually figured out how to tell what was me, and what was her." To Cerveath, Isath considers this, wafting thoughtfully. « An experiment, » she concludes. « Well then. What do you think the likelihood of them catching their tails is? Shall we observe? The-- control group, as it were? » Sho rubs his nose with his palm, sighing softly. "I've been in trouble...a lot...since I was little. It's nothin' new ta me. But it almost doesn't seem right what with having Cerveath an' all. But it's almost like he wants me ta do things." He says, trying to explain it as best as he can. As for what Cerveath feels like...Sho looks back at his blue again as the dragons watches the other dragons chasing their tales still, his slow whirling eyes calculating. "It's like...a teacher." He says finally. "Very direct and precise." To Isath, Cerveath doesn't seem interested in knowing whether they will catch them or not, really. Just more in when they will realize the reality of the situation. « They will never catch it, chasing it as they are. » The baritone voice echoes. « It is impossible to catch it that way. They would need to change their plan of attack. » Meara repeats those last words, just quietly. "Direct and precise. Well-- when you're not sure whether a thought is yours or not, examine how it /feels/. Does it carry that directness? It may not be easy to begin with, but you'll get used to it, over time, and it'll help you separate things." She backtracks, having said that, turning her attention very firmly towards the weyrling in front of her. "You want to be responsible. For him. Because things are different now. Right?" She nods at him. "And that's as it should be. You don't need to grow up overnight, Sho, but if Cerveath seems inclined to get himself into situations that you can see will cause trouble, you /do/ have the choice to make: responsible, or not?" A rustle of thoughtfulness extends from the green, who, after a moment, suggests, « You could tell them that. Encourage them to try something different. But you might be disappointed: /I/ think they enjoy the game of it. It's not about /winning/ anything. Does that matter to you, Cerveath? » (Isath to Cerveath) The weyrling listens to Meara attentively, not backing down as she turns to speak even more serious to him. Instead his amber eyes just study her as she speaks, listening to what she has to say. In the end he just lets out a soft sigh before he nods. "Yeah, I guess that's right. I don't want ta get him in trouble so mcuh 'cause it's all just...different now. I don't know what would happen." He looks back at Cerveath again then. "It's different, gettin'n trouble yerself. When ya have ta worry about someone else it just kinda changes it." A pause then as he stares off at the blue, taking a few moments before he speaks again. "But how do I stop him? Especially when he gets bigger." To Isath, Cerveath doesn't seem to impressed with the game. « What is the point of the game? It is a waste of time and effort that could be used for other things. Like seeing what happens when they fall numerous times. Will they think better of it and stop? » Cerveath's statement is followed again by his tail snaking out, this time a little higher to see if the distance of their falling will change when his tail trips them in a different spot. Meara's smile is somehow fond. "For the next little while at least, it's like you've become a parent," she suggests. "There are two of you, now, and what happens to one, happens to the other." She stretches, wiggling booted toes idly as she repositions herself on the old couch. "As to stopping him-- you can only do as much as you can do. How does a parent stop a child from acting out? You can only do the best you can. Reason with him, if you need to. Remind of your shared responsibilities. Be firm. But he's his own person, in the end, remember. Perhaps, if nothing else, seeing his actions impact on you will make a difference." She pauses, then adds, hastily, "Not that I wish to discourage you." To Cerveath, Isath is keeping a watchful eye on Cerveath, through her rider; she's /definitely/ aware of that snaking tail, the tripping that follows. « The point of the game is enjoyment, young Cerveath. Just because you do not see the fun in it, does not mean others do not. We're all different. » There's something chiding in her tone as she adds, « Let them have their fun. We will have ours. » S'ren smirks as he looks back to Meara. "Yer confusing sometimes." He says dryly, forgetting that he's talking to a superior. That's something that will really take some time for him to regularly follow. "I don't know." He adds after a moment, shrugging more to himself then Meara. "It seems like it's gonna be...hard sometimes. And interesting, I guess." To Isath, Cerveath considers Isath's words as his eyes seem to calculate the outcome of his tripping, but finally he concedes and lets his attention drift away from those tail chasers. « I don't think I will ever understand some dragons. » He muses. « Their odd sense of 'fun' » Being called confusing only makes Meara grin. As for the rest-- "It will be. Difficult, and interesting, and sometimes very frustrating. That's life for you, though. Some of us end up with more difficult relationships with our lifemates than others-- but most of us work out some kind of balance. It /will/ get easier; I can promise that." She rises, drawing her compact form from the couch with a low sigh, rubbing at her back with one hand. "We'll work on it, S'ren. I'm glad you came to talk to me. And now I need to take a walk before my back seizes. Never get old." Breezily, Isath remarks, « That's all right. They'll never understand you, either. It's the way of the world, young Cerveath. My Meara and I have seen it often. » (Isath to Cerveath) A half-hearted seated salute is offered from S'ren to Meara. "Thanks ma'am, I appreciate it." He says as Cerveath comes over to him and watches Meara for a moment before looking back at Sho. "Hungry again? Alright, let's go." The weyrling rises two and both weyrling and dragon head back towards the barracks. |
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