Logs:Sensitivity Training Required

Sensitivity Training Required
RL Date: 12 October, 2015
Who: Nikalas, Ghena
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: Life goes on for some, but that lack of sensitivity can be detrimental.
Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr
When: Day 18, Month 13, Turn 38 (Interval 10)



OOC Notes: Backdated, make changes as desired.

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People die, riders die, even wingleaders die, and teenagers still are hungry. Nikalas has made it to the kitchen, where weyrfolk like him don't have the constant dragon distress but have to deal with it permeating the air nonetheless; he's even managing to keep himself from starvation by dint of a pita stuffed with meat in a thick sauce, leaning against one of those tables and plowing into it as though his bones were indeed hollow. Maybe they are; he's a lot taller than he used to be. When the keening stops, life goes on, and really the business has very little to do with the Tagia wingrider, who is also setting about to find something to stuff in her gob. Guiltily she spots her fellow starving comrade and winds up doing a double take. "Nikalas?" She's not really sure but Ghena's never had much of a memory, still as she claims her stew and sandwich she seems sure that it is in fact who she thinks it is. "Weren't you like, shorter?" Nik looks over, laughs, then gives the bakers over there an awkward look before agreeing, "The one and only. Just wait until I stand up." Which he does even as he swipes sauce off his chin with the back of his hand-- classy-- and licks it off on the upsweep-- classier. They're the same height now, so she has a better view. "How's it going, Ghena? Did you know him?" Ghena says, "No I didn't." She seems oddly glad of this fact. "Though I'm not looking forward to all the blubbering of those who did." There's a slant of her mouth with that. "Knioth's upset but he'll forget about it in a few days. Thank Faranth for short memories." She's not much better since she manages to spill stew on her shirt on the way to her mouth. She can't exactly lick her chest though, so there's that. "Did you?"" "Is he, like, in your head a lot?" Nik knocks on his illustratively, but then he's been away from actual eating for a whole few seconds, so he gets back to it in time to give her a nuh-uh shake of his head. Through the chewing, "He's pretty super amazing. He's got style, you know? Saunters in like butter won't melt in his mouth," in a good way, his voice implies, "and is all, 'ha ha ha,'" mimicking the deceased wingleader's low-throated chuckle. Except through food. "I've learned to tune him out, sorta obnoxious." She says of the blue, between stuffing bites into her maw. They say never to speak ill of the dead, but Ghena can't help but snicker at the teenager's imitation. "Really? How'd he go? Didn't much ask, figured it was just one of the older ones, deciding it was time." Nik's eyes widen, patently interested, but he holds off on asking before answering. "I heard," he says, "it was another Weyrleader who killed him. You know, Monaco's, he's the one whose son killed that old Weyrwoman, Iolene? Like this was payback or something." He mimes slitting his throat, excuse to engulf his meal some more. "Fuck really?" Ghana asks, eyes wide as she continues shoveling in the food. "Sounds kinda like the sorta thing that would happen at Reaches I guess, I heard the damn Monacoans stirred up something at one of the goldflights." There's a shake of her head then, stuffing more food into her mouth and hunting for her mug of klah. "Odd stuff isn't it?" Really! says Nik's energetic nod. "Yeah, I guess," is less interested, what with his father not having gotten knifed in that one. "There's always something at flights, I guess, but at least these have enough eggs, they couldn't ruin that. Were there a bunch of eggs when you got your dragon?" Ghena shrugs, "Not as many as this Igen queen pops out. But If I remember right I think there were about thirteen? It was Isaryth's clutch with that fort bronze, what was the guy's name." Ghena scratches at her chin. "You gonna stand this time?" Nik's grin is his answer. "Thirteen isn't so bad," he says. "Roszadyth did thirteen. Some people worry there won't be enough of us, but they just worry a lot. Did you stand a bunch before yours got you? I was just a kid back then." Ghena grins, "Impressed the very first time. Kinda burned G'laer I think. First batch of eggs that hatched too." She's smug about this, yes. "What about you, plannin' on taking after the old man? Ride a bronze and swing your balls about like you own the place?" Well Ghena will never win points for age appropreate language with the Weyrleader that's for certian. "G'laer..." Nik makes that scrunchy face of a kid who's supposed to know but comes up short, brows lifting in question. Until he half-laughs, half-smirks. "You know me, ball-swinger." He has to snicker. "But would you if you could? Seriously? All that hassle, you can't just go flying wherever whenever," as though wingriders always got to pick. "Your kidding right? I'm still trying to figure out what joker thought I'd be a good fit for that stupid silver thread thing. I mean look at me." Stained shirt and all, "Hardly leadership material." She leans in, "Besides people might get the wrong idea if I impressed a bronze ya know?" She grins then, "Nothing wrong with just wanting a pair of wings and living the way you please." Except for probably the part where anyone gets to pick. "Silver thread... oh, yeah, that," Nik nods, evidently impressed. "I heard about that. That--" then he has to snicker some more, gaze automatically dropping to her chest before darting up again. "Yeah. I mean, a bronze, if he comes over, that's great, you know? Or a brown, a really beefy brown but not the kind that looks sort of like bronze but not, whatever really. I just want my dragon." Ghena laughs, "What you got a name picked out too? What about a sweet little green?" Ghena asks then, washing down more food with a swig from her mug. "Or a stellar blue?" Which might be Knioth's input on the subject. Nikalas scrunches up his nose, kind of awkwardly; he may be weyrbred, but uncomfortable. But, "A blue would be great, he enthuses. It's almost a guffaw, that laugh. She can't help it, seeing the kid so uncomfortable. "Aw come on, nothing is wrong with greenriders, male or female, they are so sweet and acrobatic, and Knioth adores them." She notes unable to keep a straight face. A flush is climbing Nik's cheeks, which coordinates poorly with his spattering of acne. He looks away, looks back, and comes up with, "Share your klah, would ya?" Ghena grins, "Sure." And she takes him quite literally, passing over the mug and all. "Aww, what don't want all the pretty blueriders chasing you? It's almost adorable." Yeah she's getting way to much enjoyment out of this, but it's Ghena after all. "It isn't that bad you know, flights. Not having a dragon that's your own gender, not that you've anything to worry about, I mean K'del's a big old bronzerider after all. So you should be fine too." Literally is perfect. Nikalas glugs in a way that might make a baker horrified that he pairs it with a meat sandwich, at least a baker that wasn't moping. Until, "Can we stop talking about my dad?" His voice cracks. Maybe it's the crack in his voice that does it, Ghena almost looks remorseful. "Sorry, little carried away. Does it really bother you that much?" She wonders then a little more gently. "Look, I--" Nik just hands her the mug back, pushing off the table, less away for good than physically pacing some of that energy out. "He's my dad, okay? And he just about died, like this guy except only just barely almost, and he works really hard and it's not like he's even happy half the time and," he misses a beat, did he just say that? except he did, time to move on with that flush climbing back again, "just, whatever. Joke about me, but leave him alone." Ghena puts her hands up, placatingly. "Hey I respect the guy, I wasn't making fun of him, just the worrying about impressing green or not." But she shrugs, and is getting to her feet and taking the bowl to the sink. "Death is part of life as a rider kid, you laugh or you mourn, but the world moves on." Nik doesn't follow her, exactly, so much as walk along and across and to the other side of her path. "I know that, but he's my dad." It's not so much a beat as another would-be path-crossing. "Not wingleader R'hin. I know it moves on, there's going to be another wingleader for Savannah, and probably things will be pissy with Monaco, but it's not like it's not down South, whatever." Ghena looks at him. "An if your dad went, there'd be another Weyrleader, just like every time a Gold dies in this place we some how manage another weyrwoman." It's harsh but the reality, and not entirely unfeeling. "Your dad lived, and he's pretty much immortal compared to the Weyrwoman he's gone through. Don't worry so much." Maybe it is meant to be reassuring. Nik's all of fifteen-- barely, but still!-- and he's gaping. "Fuck you," he says. "Fuck you." Then he's storming out... which doesn't mean he'll forget to finish off his pita when he's got a door between them.

Comments

Alida (00:47, 12 October 2015 (PDT)) said...

Yep...Ghena's still got all the finesse of a wrecking ball. *gigglefits*

Faryn (01:10, 12 October 2015 (PDT)) said...

Oh, Nik. You'll grow thicker skin soon enough. Otherwise a knife will go right through. XD

Edyis (01:24, 12 October 2015 (PDT)) said...

I just want to hug the poor kid. x.x

Nikalas (07:36, 12 October 2015 (PDT)) said...

... NO HUGS. *squirms uncomfortably* NOOO.