Logs:Welcome Back To Malachite
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| RL Date: 17 January, 2016 |
| Who: W'leri, N'dalis, S'zed |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: W'leri re-welcomes N'dalis to Malachite. |
| Where: Hot Springs, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 11, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: N'rov/Mentions |
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| The hot springs are a natural retreat from the foggy, bleak weather outside, and as many weyrfolk are found hogging the cluster of human pools, it's easy to spot Malachite's blonde-haired wingleader. He's got his arms spread out against the lip of the pool and he's obviously enjoying the calming aspect of the water; there's not a curse word or bottle of whiskey in sight! Though one of the wing's brownriders is also soaking himself to a prune nearby. In the dragon pool, sea-green Suraieth flares her wings and draws herself up out of the water, lifting her weight into the air so that she can make her way out into the bowl, and from there, out of sight. Her rider hangs back, watching her go with the soft, warm expression of one still (always) besotted with his dragon. It's only when she's gone entirely that the greenrider turns, making his way away from the dragon pool and towards the human pools-- where he sinks himself into the same pool as W'leri (though if it is an intentional choice, there's no sign of it in that reserved, solemn expression). Kind, but ugly, S'zed notices his fellow wingrider's approach first and isn't subtle with the kick he gives his wingleader under the water. It's enough to return an irate expression to W'leri's face. "Son of a burdenbeast's fucking.." He stops when his eyes flick to N'dalis, at the brownrider's still unsubtle gesturing eye movements. "N'dalis," is smooth, his shoulders repositioning, girth settling once more. "Didn't see you there. Suraieth.. huh. How's things?" Like he doesn't know. Dal's dark eyes flick from S'zed to W'leri, and then back again, a frown flickering across his expression before it fades back into that solemn neutrality once more. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he says. "Please, go back to your... relaxation. I'm well. We're well. Thank you." His head inclines, slowly and carefully. "Interrupting? Who's interrupting who?" W'leri makes a dismissive face and turns to look at S'zed, who also gets a dismissive look. "I've never properly welcomed you to Malachite, N'dalis," the bluerider says, once the brownrider has left the pool. "N'dalis? You go by anything else?" Really getting to know the guy! "I'd like to remedy that." The greenrider, at least, seems to take this kind of introduction-- performed here, while he's wearing very little-- in his stride (in his seat? Whatever). He leans his body against the rim of the pool, dark eyes watching W'leri more intently, now. "Dal," he says. "Most people call me Dal. I call her Su, but most people use Suraieth and that's also fine. I'm glad to see change in Malachite, sir. You'll know that we flew for Malachite once before." And that Dal never especially fit in... not that he seemed to do any better at forming bonds in Jasper. No whiskey but no lack of bravado. "Dal. Noted." Steely blue watch the greenrider across the pool, and when he's done explaining himself, W'leri waves a few of his fingers on one of his outstretched arms. "What'd you think about Malachite then? What do you think about Malachite now? Most important: why did you leave, or were you kicked out?" Maybe he knows, maybe he wants to hear it from N'dalis' lips. N'dalis hesitates, his lips pressed tightly before as those dark eyes flick towards S'zed, but only for a moment. Finally, "I found it difficult to feel truly part of Malachite. That did not bother me so much, but after we dropped out of the weyrlingmaster training program," no explaination of that, "Reesa encouraged me to move to Jasper. But," and this must be the kicker, "Su prefers the way you fly, and being among dragons her own size. N'rov spoke highly of you, and..." And here they are. Big hands curl into fists and his eyes close, and yet.. there's a sense that he's listening and absorbing all of the information. "Didn't fit in? Can't think why anyone wouldn't like her," the old wingleader, "way of doing things. All of that new fangled team building bullshit. No," W'leri asserts, gravelly voice perking up, "we're not like the old Malachite. You got ambitions, N'dalis? Wanted to be a weyrlingmaster? Want to be the one with the big balls instead of his yesman?" Offering no comment on the old way of doing things, Dal focuses instead on answering that question as posed. "No." That, more than anything, is firm. "I'm a follower, sir, not a leader. I'll do my duty-- whatever is asked of me-- but I've no great ambitions to be more. Helping with the weyrlings appealed in that I like to help, but it--" A pause, pregnant and intense. "It wasn't for us. We enjoy being in the wings." It's inevitable that W'leri opens his eyes; just, one at a time, in slow response. "Huh. I wouldn't have figured that about you, Dal. You look like a guy that wants thing, but what do I know." He lifts a hand in mute deference to the greater knowledge. "You want to follow in my shadow? Not make any strides for yourself? Can't all be leaders. Can't even all be clever," he states, jabbing a blunt finger against his head, indicating his smarts (which many will argue). "What do I need to know about you, Dal?" It's not ego or hubris that leads Dal to say, simply, "There are important roles for non-leaders to play, sir; roles that take their own kind of smarts. What I'd like... I'd like to mentor new riders coming into the wing. I'd like to be the softer face. That would be something I'd be interested in, suited to." Beyond that? "I'm a simple man. I have an eleven-turn-old son who lives with me, but likely not for much longer. I was married to his mother, a long time ago. I don't drink, not much. My personal life is private. But my loyalty is to Fort, first and foremost." W'leri laughs abruptly, and it's a raspy sound. "You figure that's what you want to do, huh?" He's amused by his wingrider's proclamation. "We'll have some new ones come next winter. I'm not opposed to giving you a trial for them. Seems like a long time to wait." But more seriously, "Past is the past. I don't give a fuck if you had a vagina ten turns ago, or you've banged N'rov. Not my business then, not my business now. Kinda sore that you're not a drinker, but.." He shrugs. "Listen, Dal. I don't buy into that lovey dovey team building bull shit, but Fort's your family, wing's your next to kin. Know what I'm saying?" Does he? W'leri's all ears, all eyes too. N'dalis has banged N'rov, of course, but there's only the faintest flicker of a flush in his cheeks to imply it-- and that is easily covered by the warmth of the water all around. "I appreciate it," is what he says, in a firm enough voice. "I'm not a joiner, by nature, but I do intend to do my best to be part of this. To... belong. If Malachite will have my back, sir, then I'll have Malachite's in return. If that's acceptable?" Those words bring a smile to W'leri's scruffy face, worth the same weight as a mother staring at her child. "We've got your back, Dal." He makes another grand gesture with his big hands, stepping away from the wall to say, loud enough for the rest of the hot springs to hear, "Welcome to Malachite." And he laughs, but he doesn't have any whiskey, so he's frowning shortly, as he resumes his position against the pool wall. If that embarrasses Dal, well, he's polite enough not to show it. "Thank you sir," he says. And after that? Well, it won't be too much longer before he's taking his leave. Flee! |
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