Logs:Poor Poor Weyrlings
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| RL Date: 25 April, 2015 |
| Who: K'zin, Rasavyth, Laine, Lifreyth, O'nahi, Kuviath, Telavi, Solith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: AWLMs take advantage of evening downtime. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern |
| When: Day 15, Month 8, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| It's not bedtime yet; a bit of a breeze-- not just Solith-- brings a bit of the warm still-dusk air within; Telavi, on the couch, shoos a younger weyrling off now that they have exchanged appropriate hair-care tips, and yawns before blinking out at who's still up. Laine and Lifreyth's sleep schedule, though matching up remarkably well to each other, has been growing increasingly erratic: staying up later, the pair has grown reliant on an afternoon nap. So dusk's their prime time: the pair have scoped out an overstuffed chair dragged up next to a stone bench. Dragon gets the chair; human gets the bench. Laine's intermittent breathy gasp or low chuckle belies their silent conversation. O'nahi and Kuviath aren't actually taking advantage of the various pieces of furniture, but the pair are laying on the ground in front of a couch. The weyrling has his head resting against the little blue's shoulder, eyes closed, while Kuviath makes quiet, but audible sounds that make the boy laugh in a similarly quiet way now and then. Rasavyth's charm oozes pleasantly anywhere it can get a foothold. He's generally so very pleased to be here with all the weyrlings, but keeps careful distance for those less inclined to deal with his nearly invisible shimmering presence. It's only just arrived physically close, the aristocratic bronze settled just outside the cavern now as his 'fresh' rider arrives for the nightshift. He brings a tray with him with a couple of steaming mugs and an assortment of fresh offerings from the living cavern to supplement the supply maintained in the training caverns for weyrlings too tired (or too Always Needed by their dragons) to make the trek themselves. His brown gaze sweeps the cavern and he angles toward Telavi, predictably. She always gets first choice of the goods (except when Quinlys is around). That's a couple of mugs, thank you; Tela's gaze has been drifting drowsily from pair to pair-- she didn't get that afternoon nap-- and the greenrider's just starting to stretch out her legs as though to see whether O'nahi might make a good footrest, except K'zin. And mugs. And munchies, for which the bronzerider gets a grateful smile. Reaching out to help herself, she murmurs, "Look at them, aren't they sweet? You'd never know they were terrorizing the place just hours ago." Stretched as she is, prone and belly-down on the bench with her head propped in her hands, Laine somehow manages to look pretty comfortable, for all that her brown is lounging in a big plush armchair. Lifreyth lifts his head at K'zin's arrival, and Rasavyth--well, okay, all the nearby dragons--get a wafting swirl of dust and leather and old book smell in good-natured acknowledgement. Only after Lifreyth settles his chin again on the chair's cushioned arm does Laine lift her own head to track that tray. "Did you get any meatrolls? Or sweetrolls?" Rolls of any kind, really. The blue weyrling is lost enough in whatever is actually happening behind Kuviath's rumbles and chirps and grunts that he barely notices that he almost became a footrest. But he does notice that K'zin ends up nearby and that he has food. And being a young, growing... man, O'nahi starts to sit up, though not stand, to make noises about having dibs once Telavi has made her choices. "We weren't terrorizing, we were trying to tire them out." And Kuviath is just laying there, albeit also eyeing the tray, so it must have worked! "The kind with that weird rice wrapper," K'zin tells Laine of the meatrolls, but once Telavi has taken what she wanted, he moves to set the tray where it becomes fair game. There's plentiful offerings, so dibs probably only needs to be called for the really good stuff. "Pretty sure that's the same thing, O'nahi," the bronzerider answers the younger man with a grin. With his own mug in hand (that was the other mug), K'zin looks to Telavi, "Anything exciting planned for tonight? Laine doesn't look tired enough," he says it with a straight face and everything. To nearby dragons, Rasavyth's mind shimmers just at the edges of the thoughts of the other dragons, a sparkle here and there in the nothingness (or somethingness?) of the space between minds. « By chance, » his tenor purr comes, to the young ones, though not secreted from Solith, « have you tried suggesting things to your rider? Like... what to eat? » Innocent enough, isn't it? Almost like a game. "Keep your voice down," is Telavi's quick recommendation to Laine, "if you don't want the rest of the barracks to hear. Does she want the rest of the barracks to hear? Her fingers just happen to linger briefly with K'zin's, with her murmured thanks, before she settles back with her food and her further reply. "I do not in the least-- What he said! Or close, anyway." Now she too has to peer at Laine. "Calisthenics," she considers; around here, there are always those. "Or-- no, you don't need that--" does she glance briefly away? "It seems like your dragons talk to you a lot." The noise O'nahi makes when K'zin takes the tray away is a little desperate and more pathetic. He watches the bronzerider set it down out of reach and looks very sad, betrayed even, for several whole moments. Instead of getting up to help himself, though, the blue weyrling lays back against Kuviath again to mope openly while the blue noses at his wayward mop of hair. Ugh. Rice wrappers. The back-of-the-throat noise and the way Laine drags herself up and off the stone bench makes it seem like rice wrappers the worst thing in the world, but she saunters over to the tray to stand over it, considering. There's even a defensive look over her shoulder at the cavernous barracks towards the back that makes it clear she does not want everyone else traipsing in here and helping themselves. O'nahi, though, he'll get a nudge of her toe into his ribs. "Sweet or savory?" To nearby dragons, Kuviath is sleepy, but not enough to actually sleep. Not yet. It gives his youthful voice a heavy quality, like too many furs piled on. « I told him the meat was good, but he just gets all weird about it. » People, right? To nearby dragons, Lifreyth is the creak of a wooden chair, a slowly-turning model of the solar system spinning around and around with a clickwork tickticktick-ing. He's alert and very present. « Suggesting how? » He's intrigued. He also adds as a sidenote, with the tone of one speaking from experience: « Don't eat the grass. » Solith, drowsy, « They eat the grass. Then we eat them. » (To nearby dragons from Solith) "You poor, poor helpless weyrling, you," K'zin says very dryly to O'nahi and his noise and looks before ignoring him in favor of studying Laine, ostensibly giving thought to Telavi's suggestions. "Maybe something more mentally exhausting?" He hms, they must know something that would be; clearly, he's not much considering the weyrling's wants in his conversation with the other assistant. Telavi relishes her delicacies, even if she doesn't tear into them as fast as she might have done in weyrlinghood; she leans back into the couch, its blotchy leather too old to squeak. "Oh, I know. Not about exhausting, but the mental part-- O'nahi? Is it easier for Kuviath to understand words in your head, and send words to other dragons, or more pictures? Or smells or whatever, I guess, but mostly we don't want the smells. What about you and Lifreyth, Laine?" To nearby dragons, Rasavyth might be a smidge disappointed with Kuviath's very surface take on 'suggesting,' but Lifreyth redeems the weyrlings on the whole. « I wouldn't suggest to them often, in this way; some have a tendency to consider it a circumvention of their own free-will, » which is just ridiculous, obviously, « but you can... press- » there's a pressure against their minds lightly. « It's less telling them as thinking about things in a way that makes them want what you want them to want. » Does that make sense? The nudge of toe gets a defensive look at first, but the question makes it disappear a moment later. Food. The shortcut to O'nahi's (entirely platonic) heart. "Whatever you don't want," is his answer, totally willing to play clean up duty in that regard. He lifts a hand to make it easier for Laine to hand him food. He's gracious like that. "Uh," is his answer for Telavi. "Words, I guess? He talks a lot." A lot, judging by the tired way O'nahi says it. He's assured; Solith is more... reticent, the fresh breeze of her thoughts less perceptible now. (To nearby dragons from Solith) To nearby dragons, Lifreyth flexes under that pressure, considering it, letting it roll over him and then echo back and back and back into endless rows of dim, dusty shelves. He accepts the idea, though maybe not at face value. That orrery of planets and moons whirls faster. « Okay, but... Why? » There's a moment where Laine's hand swings over the plate, hovering over those rice-wrapped meatrolls, but her nose wrinkles and she goes for a flattened pastry stuffed with jam instead. She passes off the meatroll to O'nahi, then settles the weight of her hips against the table. She considers the question with her mouth full. Manages, around crumbs, "Words. No, pictures. Uh." She swallows. "Both. Depends." No. That doesn't make sense to Kuviath. But his sleepy attention is very much focused on Rasavyth now, what with that pressure and all. « Like when he kind of smells and I think that he should take a bath and then he has once I wake up again? » Same thing, right? « If you want them to eat something, why don't you just tell them to eat something? » (To nearby dragons from Kuviath) « Well, » Rasavyth draws out in a purr. « They spend endless hours in this training, or will, in your lifemates' cases, learning how to control us. To cajole us. To get us to do as they would like. It seems only natural to me that we should hone the ability in reverse, should the occasion ever arise. It can be helpful if there's a queen you should like to fly, though it shall be months and maybe even turns yet before that will interest you in any way beyond the intellectual consideration, » and he's dubious that even the intellectual will hold much weight with the brown at this early stage. For the blue, his shimmers twinkle like stars, indulgent stars, « A bit like that. It's not necessarily that you want them to eat something, it's just an innocent way to practice. » Innocent enough, he thinks, anyway. (To nearby dragons from Rasavyth) "How are you two at drawing?" K'zin inquires of both weyrlings, with a glance toward Telavi. Is she thinking what he's thinking? "It's hard sometimes," Tela is busy sympathizing, "when they... chatter." Empathizes, because, "At least Solith would keep it down for a little while when I asked," told, "her. But words... let's--" She glances at K'zin, and suddenly she smiles. "Yes, drawing. We can do that instead. O'nahi? I think there might be a couple slates that crept under the chair there, would you grab them?" While Lifreyth may object on the premise of the whole thing (he is she and she is he, after all), he can't properly resist the temptation to at least try it. Once. Okay, maybe twice. Alright, maybe three times, depending on how it goes. But first: he'll try it out on Rasavyth, that pressure, that leaning into the bronze with the weight of many stacked books on a creaking, bowing shelf. Is he doing it right? (Maybe: although what it is Lifreyth expects to come of it isn't very clear.) (To nearby dragons from Lifreyth) Meatroll! O'nahi is still stuffing that in his mouth when Telavi is asking for slates. So he holds onto the roll with his lips while he starts searching with a blind hand for the slates in question. "Here, these?" is attempted around his mouthful. He lifts them up to hand over to the greenrider since obviously he won't be needing any of them. Drawing? Laine's face might say everything that K'zin needs to know about the brown-riding weyrling's art skills (that is: she don't got none). But she seems game enough, especially since she's right next to the food tray and once that jam-filled pastry is gone, she's already skimming the tray for something else. K'zin was just leaning to murmur some no doubt nefarious suggestion about this game (or whisper a sweet nothing?) to Telavi when a shriek from within the barracks draws his eyes. "I've got it," his hand goes briefly to Telavi's shoulder in a way that's probably meant to be either reassuring or 'so long'. "Have fun," he tells the weyrlings. Surely he will, with whomever had whatever within. To nearby dragons, Rasavyth is a willing test subject and patient teacher (so perhaps he won't get fired after all). He has suggestions for the brown, and gets to make only some of them before there's an amused flash. « My K'zin says I ought not teach you such things. » Which doesn't mean he won't, just that the lesson must be curtailed while the bronzerider is paying attention, and only because it will be less of a headache if K'zin doesn't feel plagued by enough guilt to go report him to Quinlys and Olveraeth. Still, trial and error goes a long way. The thought is really just saying. It goes for all things in weyrlinghood, doesn't it? "Yes, try not to let them get sticky--" too late? Either way, Telavi's distracted, giving K'zin a relieved glance as she gets to stay put; she reaches to take the slates, but then stares at O'nahi. "You look exhausted. Go to bed before you sleep on the floor, all right?" To Laine, "Catch!" O'nahi finishes off the rest of his roll. He only seems mildly curious about the shriek in the barracks. It's Telavi's suggestion that he go to bed that makes the blue weyrling groan in protest. It's not so much that he doesn't want to go to bed, though, it's that he has to get up and walk all the way back into the barracks to do it. "Fiiine," he says as he starts to push himself up to his feet, nudging the practically dozing Kuviath so he can get his arms under him and pick him up. Hopefully that will keep him from perking up too much on the way to his couch. "Night, Laine," he offers his peer as he goes. |
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