Logs:Home (Arguably) Sweet Home
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| RL Date: 26 February, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Telavi stops by to make sure A'rist's still good with winter; dragons get into it; once that's fixed, stuck riders kill (awkward) time by discussing bronzeriders trying to indoctrinate A'rist and, more generally, wings until the weyrling gets his peace and quiet at last. |
| Where: Lythronath's Ledge and Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 2, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, D'kan/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions, G'laer/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Oisa/Mentions, P'kavi/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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| Lythronath's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr There's a familiar sense of sunlight at the edges of consciousness even before sight or scent, Solith giving purposeful-- not warning, exactly, more like an announcement. She's on her way! Hello! Her path must take her upwind, for scent is next, telling of recent pleasant exercise if not yet what would be an even more pleasant oiling, accompanied by a whiff of firestone. Then comes the green herself, gliding his way; if there's part of his territory that's extra inviting-- or inviting at all-- she'll take that. There's a place across from his hip that's probably the least occupied by bronze hide, anyway. Lythronath, of course, hasn't made any attempt at making room for Solith, although he has lifted his head and huffed once at the wind preceding her arrival. At least that empty patch is mostly dry, if not rightly gore-free. He watches, quiet, the predator even at rest, eyes opened fully now, and attentive. The wind happens to move for the huffing, even if it does rush right back in again; Solith lands lightly, staying on the tips of her talons despite her crouch, and starts sniffing around with her wings still up. She sniffs towards that stretch of dragon over there, of course, at first: due honors to the one who actually lives here. This means that her neck doesn't exactly stay still for Telavi's dismounting, but the greenrider's used to that, sliding down on the far side of Lythronath but giving him a nod once she starts heading for the weyr. "A'rist?!" precedes her actual entrance, one hand cupped about her mouth. That stretch of dragon starts to change, muscles sliding beneath dirt- and gore-smudged bronze hide, less smooth a look than they might have had if Lythronath were freshly oiled. It amounts more to readiness than actual movement, but for the bob of his head in Solith's direction. « Blood, » he describes. Inside, there's a clatter, and then feet. "Telavi," A'rist manages to extract from Lythronath, with only a bit of delay. And then he's got himself to the entrance. « Blooooood, » Solith prolongs, swinging her head to look and look and look about the ledge. Look at all Lythronath has done! He must have been busy. "How's it going?" her rider asks, whiskey-blonde braids worn in loops over her ears for that extra bit of warmth, nodding at the weyrling but peeking past him at whatever there is to be seen. "What, no curtain? How's the chimney? I'm supposed to make sure no one's freezing to death, more than usual anyway." « Blood, » Lythronath repeats, this time with pride. Those comet-streaked wings are given a stretch, lazy, slow, controlled, showy. He tilts his head and watches his visitor, unthreatened. Entertained, maybe? "Good?" A'rist greets Telavi in return. "We've got one," reassuring, "just... didn't need it today. Sun." A vague gesture towards drying blood, basking bronze, Lythronath's territory. "It doesn't get cold, not really. Not like one we visited with Quinlys when we were picking." Does she look? Showiness is meant for looking, and Solith is happy to oblige, though the opalescent brightness of her eyes is slightly obscured by those innermost lids; she looks onward then, and she sniffs, and... had he missed a spot, a small spot beyond a slight ridge in the rock? If so, she'll notice. Her rider isn't bothering with such little things; she glances back over her shoulder, little more. "The one up high, where it goes whoosh-whoosh-whoosh?" Complete, of course, with hand motions. Only dragons who are trying to be thorough can miss spots. Lythronath's talons scrape on the stone as he brings himself to less of a stretch, and more attention. His wings settle, slowly, of their own volition. Wing brain. A'rist... A'rist is watching Telavi's hand. He tugs a little at the bottom of his shirt, and decides, "Sure? I think so. Whoosh." A small bit of a smile. Solith sniffs it, too. Sniff-sniff-sniff, if not the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, still up on her talon-tips and checking out-- it's not like she hasn't been here before, but maybe she's forgotten or things have changed-- the borders: what matters to be marked, what doesn't, accompanied by a shivery yawn. Tela doesn't shiver, but then she's got that fur-lined coat and she's too busy to shiver just now. Smile, though, that she too can do. "And enough sweaters and furs and things? If anything's getting too short, I know just the women to talk to, who'll get you the alterations quickly and not sit on them for sevens. If the hem isn't already used up, anyway." "Yeah, I think so." A'rist has brought his hand to rub at the back of his neck, and is sending a look back down the hallway (of sorts) toward the inner weyr. "I got most of my stuff changed out pretty recently. Some of it took a bit, but... I've got it now, anyway." A shrug, and his hands find his pockets. On the ledge, Lythronath mimics the yawn, not with a yawn of his own, but more a show of just how big his mouth is. And how powerful, when those jaws snap shut, hard and fast. Fine, fine, the clatter's impressive enough that Solith looks back at the other dragon and not his furnishings; for her rider, it's the other way around, moving to slip past with a bright, "Oh? I'd love to see," quite as though A'rist had just invited her in. "That reminds me-- but no, that can wait, a bit." "It's not really-" and Telavi is past him. A'rist has done nothing to stop her, which means now he has to follow. "You want to see my sweater?" Lythronath opens his mouth, this time just enough to show white teeth. He bobs his head at Solith again, muscles flexing again, and this time, his belly lifting just a little from the ledge. "Not unless it has unexpected holes or little white... do you even know what moth casings look like?" floats behind Telavi. "Because moths are bad and evil and need to be flamed from the face of Pern." She's paused in the main area, looking about with the assessing eyes of a girl who knows furniture. Solith, abruptly, hops. It's a whole-body bob, after which she looks back at Lythronath. Lythronath doesn't hop. Lythronath gets to his feet, quickly, not necessarily gracefully, but with an indisputable power. His wings twitch. His tail wavers and then finds balance, while his feet adjust under him. And he watches Solith... A'rist is going after Telavi still, repeating, "Moths," and looking more uncomfortable the longer she checks out his place, when the bronze lunges forward and snaps his teeth again. « Hahaha! » He watches Solith; Solith watches him, forelegs down in a crouch with her hindquarters in the air. He snaps; she promptly bounces again, butting her muzzle forward. « Ha! » It's not a full-fledged hahaha, of course, but maybe that's Lythronath's territory too. As for Tela, she's still stopped, expression verging on downcast but not quite allowed to get there. "I thought you said you'd changed things out," she admits, gaze returned to A'rist before drifting off again, with rather less focus this time. Lythronath swings that big head of his right at Solith's muzzle, taking a step forward as well. "The clothes that didn't fit me," A'rist supplies, looking a bit bemused at having to explain. "The rest of it's okay for now, how it was. I guess maybe how Z'ian left it, right? If I find something better, I can swap things around." Solith stays put. Her tail swishes. Her gaze is expectant. Telavi's, not so much; evidently she's given up on the place sprouting fresh furniture anytime soon. "I figured," she says, Only she adds, "Finally, anyway," and that's rueful. "It's always so much fun seeing what people do with a place. He was my wingleader, you know, though mostly we-- speaking of wings." Tela unbuttons the top part of her jacket, but then crosses her arms. "You've thought, haven't you, about which might work for you? Which you'd work for." "I... haven't really been thinking about this part of things so much," A'rist admits, the doubt of the feel of having let something slip past now creeping into his tones as he slides a glance over to his weyrlingmaster. A step brings him to the back of the chair, which he reaches for, slides a little. There. "Yeah. Thinking. Talked to K'del a little about it, too... I don't know, Lythronath's intense, we need something where that will work." Lythronath, who takes a step and aims his head again, this time, thump, hard, into Solith's shoulder. "K'del directly?" Telavi hmms with interest, adding, "Well, there's nothing like going to the--" and then that's when Solith, who's not exactly sturdily built even if she's low to the ground at the moment, staggers sideways with a paw to catch herself and screeches. Loudly. Right at the considerably bigger dragon's headknobs. A'rist starts to explain, overtop Telavi, "Well, bronzeri-" when, « Hahahaha! » The bronze digs his talons into his ledge, shrieking it back at her in time to a rolling growl from deep in his throat. « Little, » sounds almost mirthful. His tail swings back and forth. His head bobs. And Lythronath waits, expects. Solith tries this growl thing, only... it turns out more like a sputtering cough, and her tail swishes unhappily. It didn't work. She bares her teeth at him. « Again! » Growl some more! Telavi quite literally puts her palm to her forehead. "This again," she says. "You were saying?" Lythronath's growl comes with another step and thump, with, « Again! » shouted back in time to the hard hit. "I was..." distracted? A'rist's foot has shifted toward the ledge. The chair, new clothes, it's all forgotten. "Hang on." Ma'am? "Go, go," is Telavi's quick injunction because Solith... apparently did not mean that kind of again and though she'd at least moved with the force this time, it is « Not fun. » And, « Not good. » Heading into the territory of plus ungood, in fact. « Not that! » « Hahaha! Fun! » They're almost a crow, those words, and the vocalisation that goes with them is far more playful, a growl of many syllables, in time with the bobbing of his head. « That. » He's pawing at the ledge again, swinging his tail in preparation, when A'rist makes it out to bloodstained stones. It warrants one extra tail swing, during which he gives his rider a look. Telavi, who's right behind A'rist, makes a face that no one should have to see. Solith's certainly not looking; Solith's backed up against stone, a yellow-green lump who's not playing. The green doesn't reply; she certainly doesn't swing her tail, just hunches unhappily. "Could you-- She forgets sometimes." Obviously. Lythronath grunts something or other, head swinging from A'rist, back to Solith. On this bob, he finishes with his muzzle nearer the ground, a straight line of sight to that huddled, boring lump of a green. « Again. » "Uh," says A'rist. Whatever he says without saying makes his bronze snort-sigh, though Lynner doesn't change position. Solith doesn't quite have her paws over her eyes, but it's a near thing. Meanwhile, Telavi has to be patient, and that's a hard thing. She folds her arms; Solith stays lumpish, the very air stagnant about her. It's not a pretty sight. That lowered nose has started to sniff. Lythronath sniffs, sniffs, makes a slow step, and noses the green square on - a nose, not a thump. "She'll be fine," A'rist promises Telavi. Even if his eyes are hard on his dragon. Even if he's balanced his weight on the balls of his feet. That gets him a huff, at least, and Solith tilts her head such that she's slightly more angles than lump. "Okay," Telavi says to A'rist, and says it as though she believes him; her shoulders even relax slightly, though her gaze does flick between him and his dragon and hers. Though she doesn't say anything more, just yet. It takes a little while, but Solith breathes out more slowly this time, though just as directedly so: a touch if not precisely hide to hide. Lythronath nudges at the green once a bit harder, again, more insistently, and then backs and turns. It's a languid and space-occupying sort of stretch across his ledge, leaving her that much less space, wings and limbs settling with a heavy sigh. « Boring. » Baiting. That one eye is still watching her, still expecting. A'rist turns to look at his weyrlingmaster, offers, "See?" "Mmm." It isn't particularly a commitment on Telavi's part. "Better." It's not in Lythronath's tone, at least, but she's still watching too. Solith waits and waits and waits and then she must suppose she can move some, for she uncompresses paw by paw and places them forward and down, gradually shifting her weight onto each in turn but only after they're in position. It may not be so different from times earlier in weyrlinghood, but Tela's still biting her lip when Solith's path takes her-- across? onto?-- the bronze's flank. The bronze's side lifts in a deep breath, collapses, slow and steady. Heavy. Sigh. Hard-done-by, that Lythronath, who shifts his leg a little, and moves his wing, so that one of those strong shoulders is nice and available. And in case it's not clear: « Shoulder. » Permission. A'rist reaches up to rub at his face, and turns well away from that. "She's a green, see, she'll be fine." Solith has some sniffing to do now, which may or may not be ticklish, but in the end she settles: tidier than the sprawl they're more accustomed to, but enough that Telavi releases a held breath. It's a sigh, really, and she's stopped looking at the pair, though she's not looking at A'rist either. To the ceiling, "Do you have something to drink?" Sniffing is not what Lythronath had in mind. His hide twitches, involuntary spasms of muscles that are tiny, even on a bronze. And Lythronath heaves a sigh, but seems placated enough. A'rist grimaces a little when he shakes his head. "I usually go see G'laer for that. I've got... water and some... snacks." "Oh? What does he serve you?" Tela asks with new interest, though it's still distracted. "Snacks-- would be good too," this with a regretful moue before she squishes it down. "Or something. If you don't mind. I'm not so hungry that I'll go after your boot leather or anything." She pulls up her collar, though. A'rist almost looks back over to his dragon (and his newest attachment), but stops himself. There's a faded sort of smile worked up for Telavi as the bronzerider nods. "Yeah, I guess. And... good. Just got new boots." The motion of his hand toward the weyr, back whence they'd come, is less grand a gesture than maybe he'd originally intended. Once into that square room, he's heading for a stash of food. Brought to the table are cookies. Like the sort weyrbrats would hoard if given half the chance. Kid cookies. Telavi's helped herself to a chair by then, if with legs crossed at the knee; she reaches for one with murmured thanks-- and without a repetition of the question. "It's not quite like being locked in," she says then, closer to neutral than full-on humor. Brown eyes lock on the cookie the greenrider has taken when A'rist, too, takes a seat. "I haven't got anything else. Like, teas or liquors or even better - anyway," hinting at defiance, suddenly, as he tries to draw himself up a little, "these taste good." He only looks to the room as an afterthought. "It's... organised." Also, not covered in blood. "They do," Telavi readily replies-- and if they didn't, one wouldn't guess it from her slight smile. She looks around, too, and though she gives that organization its due with her nod, she has to ask, "What would be better than liquors? Or tea." It's a little more of a smile, now, lingering even when she nibbles again on that cookie. "I..." Don't know? "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I just have the water." And he's left eyeing the greenrider for a moment, even gets halfway to reaching for a cookie for his own before he thinks to ask, "Did you want some of that?" "Next time you're up, please," and it could nearly be one of those exemplars on basic manners accompanying the silver threads, except-- Telavi's not on, not bright and sparkly and socializing, not couching it in even more mannerly languge. Not teaching. Not performing. A'rist hesitates, a series of twitches ensuing, none of which amount to any movement. He seems almost to have settled when he gets up, all at one shot, and heads back toward his food stash. There, the sound of water pouring. There, a cup brought back, and set before the greenrider before A'rist sets himself down as well. "I was up," comes with a shrug, something of a sheepish smile. That brings a quiet laugh, lifted eyes; "If you say so." Telavi sips that water with relief, too, as though it's welcome-- and it is. If she wonders whether there were Lythronath-twitches to match his rider's, it goes unvoiced and, most likely, unquestioned; Solith's certainly settled more and more, no real stirring. "You know, if you want to-- I don't know, whittle or play solitaire or whatever it is you do, I don't mind." "They're probably going to be like that for a while, huh," A'rist assesses, not sounding especially surprised. He shakes his head, and finally takes a bite out of that cookie, regained since he'd sat. "You know, I haven't had a lot of people show up here. Weyrwoman Az- or, Hraedhyth, once. And some of his greens, but not like... there's not lots of riders." It's with a touch of apology that Telavi says, "I did think about taking her off, it just seemed like doing it on a more settled note would be-- better." Safer, maybe. "Would you like more?" That 'his greens' might have gotten a flicker of her lashes, but that's also when she was nibbling on her own cookie yet again. "Or are you happy to be," this pause has less to do with consideration and more for a bare touch of dramatic effect, "spared." A'rist lifts a shoulder as a halfway shrug, uses it, before it's dropped, to scratch at his ear, and looks out toward the passage to the ledge again. "I don't know. I guess it depends on the who?" Still looking to the ledge, he lets a fingertip drum the table a few times over. "I don't mind, you know. I mean, if he's got your dragon all... there." "Mmm." Telavi doesn't look toward the ledge; Telavi looks at the table as though there's something to be read in its polish or lack thereof. Maybe it's the crumbs, since they're fresh-- or not so fresh-- out of tea leaves. "That's good to... know." Then she winds up tapping the table too, but three-fingered, randomly at first before breaking into rhythm: less a song and more like code. "So..." A'rist's gaze travels slowly back to Telavi, where it sits for a moment. "So you're in Boreal, right?" The topic seems to be a sort of epiphany; A'rist relaxes just that much more, turning a little bit sideways in his chair, leaning into its back. "What's that like?" Her taps don't stop right away; there are a last few, as though she has to complete the sentence. But, over them, "I was, anyway," with a bit of a moue before Telavi lifts her own gaze and gets to the meat of the question. "Boreal... well, Oisa isn't Z'ian, you know? He wanted to do different things-- before he was Weyrleader and got busy-- but she's kind of... 'drill this, sweep that, polish the other thing, go home' which wouldn't be so bad if she weren't the pickiest thing that ever picked." Telavi may have a long nose, but she can still turn it up. "So like... like stuck in the wing, then? Instead of reaching past it? I mean, I know about Alpine and Taiga doing some stuff outside of the Weyr. And K'del said that Avalanche drills really hard, at least, though I don't know how involved they are with other things... But," yes, he finds his point again, "you guys don't, then, really?" The upturned nose, it seems, can be ignored. A'rist stares at her and waits, much like a hungry weyrling waiting for his rider to just cut up the meat already. "Taiga too? I thought it was just Alpine that was getting-- famous-- for that sort of thing." Avalanche now gets a decidedly un-assistant-weyrlingmaster-ly wrinkle of Tela's so-maneuverable nose: boring. "No-o. Z'ian had been all, 'special talents!' 'skills!' 'more than just riders!' 'connections!' ...and then poof," complete with fluttery hands. "It really goes to show that a wingleader sets the tone, doesn't it? Except for the part that he hadn't himself been wingleader for very long. He'd been from Taiga. I'd bet you that Icicle or Glacier wouldn't change so fast." That's the first snack for the beast-- will it save said hands from being next on the menu? Special talents. Skills. Connections. It all make A'rist's face twist up a little. "Oh." His eyes roll a little toward the ledge. He doesn't move his head. He doesn't have to. He's tapped at Lythronath's simple, currently-eased lizard-brain enough. "I've heard that, about Glacier. But that maybe it's not a good fit for us." A pause, and then his face goes from twisted to properly screwed all up and grimacy. "Even if K'del never said why." He brings his hands back to himself, crosses them over his chest, and stays leaning back at an angle in his chair. "Thing your wing'll keep on changing? Think Oisa will stay?" Did he. Not that Telavi seems surprised, exactly; she finishes her cookie, washes it down with water while he speaks. Then, going back to what he'd said first, "Do you have an idea as to why?" It's got the ring of genuine curiosity, not the echo of Quinlys' 'This is a test.' "I don't know if I want to call it 'my' wing; between you and me, I don't so much want to go back to it," and if she looks briefly surprised and at herself this time, holding the backs of her hands up long enough to glance at them, it's an admission that didn't even take a couple beers. Dragons. Or captivity. Something. "I think Oisa will stay until someone pries her cold dead claws off of it and sends her between. So no, I don't think it will keep changing. Though," at least she adds, "I could be wrong.... If you do want something stable and that kind of stable, that could be a place to get that." A'rist's facial contortions ease up some, setting instead into something more thoughtful, if serious as well. "Well, we had to read some about Taikrin and H'kon and all that stuff. So if Taikrin's really like that - the only Glacier rider I shadowed with was D'kan so far, and he didn't seem like that - but I don't know, maybe he doesn't want Lythronath in a wing that might... be... like that." It's all very descriptive. A'rist casts around for a while before he finds, "I dunno, he's volatile enough on his own. Not like he'd ever actually do anything for any reasons that had to do with anyone else, though." Whoever wrote what he was reading must've been pro-H'kon. A'rist then shakes his head, and his arms uncross. "Didn't she just get into wingleader 'cause of some technicality anyway?" And then, in a quieter voice. "What I want is something that'll help me keep him tired out. And focused. Then maybe we could even accomplish something." "Taikrin--" Telavi says while he's casting around, but then she holds off until he's done, just a wrinkle of her nose for technicality-- and that turns out to mean that what he says last, that holds her attention beyond all the rest, blue-green gaze resting on the other rider. After a little while she nods, once. When she speaks, her voice is quieter too. "To fit your plan, then... maybe, all right, Avalanche. A lot of the other wings, it seems like there's a lot of... jostling. Equinox seems kind of innocuous, Frostbite--" something about it has her crinkling her nose this time, a minor variant. "And besides, Avalanche is green-led, green wingsecond, so as long as he'd still follow and not just lean on them," this with a small smile, but there. There's something in what she's said that A'rist isn't certain about, and those arms come back up, crossed over once more. "I don't know. I mean, does jostling take away from it? Any wing he's going to be in, he's going to jostle. He doesn't follow well. That's through me, it always has been." The sharper look settled on her is clearly one of 'you know that.' "But K'del said Avalanche, too. Or Iceberg..." He trails off, not so much for thought, but because he's watching her again. Working stuff through. "Greens." It's a prod. To the greenrider. Telavi, untroubled by that sharp look: perhaps it's more a matter of relativity. "His jostling is one thing," she says with but a lift of one brow to reflect the prod; untroubled and unhurried, "The thing is, if they're disputing all the time, jostling, won't that just mean irritation all the time, and make it that much harder for you? D'kan is sweet, and helpful too, and Taikrin, she was still Weyrleader when I was a weyrling, she's impressive," and then there's Jo, but Telavi doesn't always name names. "But there's, what, three former Weyrleaders in that wing? And that's just the beginning; I don't know of anyone who's said Glacier's not competitive inside and out, not with a straight face." Periodically hanging out in the Snowasis, it isn't just for picking up randoms! Not that she's been doing as much of that, in the last several months. "Is that what you want?" "I guess it could..." A'rist's taken on that pensive look again - hiis weyrlingmaster ought to know it at least a little - of one struggling, not fully convinced. He tips his chair back onto two legs, much without thinking, and lowers it down again silently, quite consciously. "Well, I don't know. I guess it depends where we'd settle in it all, if we did. You think that's what K'del was thinking of, then? Too much... what, like conflict?" His eyes are drawn out toward the ledge, and he makes a face. Again. "Wrong place to put some dragon who's just some agenothree tank waiting to explode," is perhaps a bit melodramatic. "It depends," Telavi agrees after more water to wet her throat: no push to get him to agree, much less concede. She's got a quick nod for K'del, a quicker smile for that agenothree-- although, "I don't pretend to read his mind," and when would even an Acting Weyrleader ever run into a greenrider like her? "If you two get on with Fayla and H'vier and their dragons... I hear Iceberg used to be really balanced, but that was way back when before I got here," not that she had anything to do with the change! "but the complaining's been more about Weyrleaders changing things up on them. So maybe that's an example of where it's settling back into its original? Have you met H'vier, at least more than, 'Hello, tall grumpy-looking man over there!'?" Her smile's on the quirky side. "We're not always that bad you know," A'rist feels it necessary to point out, at this juncture. Maybe for that smile. Maybe for the lack of disagreement on his comment. "And it's not always like what everyone thinks, where he'd just go on a rampage if I let him or something." The insistence has put him on shakier ground; it requires puffing his chest some. "I don't really know him. He's one of the ones who hasn't been trying to teach me everything about being a bronzerider." There have been a few others. "But we're due to shadow with Iceberg soon. I don't know who for sure, but... we'll be in the wing, anyway." "Of course you're not," Telavi says agreeably; if her gaze flicks to said chest and then up again, at least she's not smiling more than before. "'One of the ones'? Are there that many?" Color Tela intrigued, though by now she must be able to place at least a couple of them. "H'vier... he's an interesting man, though mostly I just know him socially," and the minor detail of a flight; "He's with a friend of mine, she's just had his baby, but he's not very... settled-old-man-ish, if you know what I mean." "Well, they don't all help us out. And there's some of the ones who do, who spend more time with P'kavi, and then some who spend more time with me... I don't know why they pick that way. Maybe because of the dragons. Suvath and Lythronath are like... well, really, it's like someone took an extra egg and dropped it in and out came Lythronath. He's not like anyone in that clutch." Themes building up much in the teen, of late? A'rist is finally able to let it go, enough to get a bit of a frown as he shakes his head. But still, he gives, "Okay." Some might say the important part is 'dropped,' possibly from a height. Not Telavi, whose little lift-and-fall of the shoulders shrugs off knowledge of specifics. Although-- here she leans forward, "You know, what if there is some secret cabal where they meet up at night in their favorite leathers and drink and then draw straws or something. I mean, if there are that many running around, handing out advice-- more than a handful, less? Do they at least give consistent advice?" A'rist snorts a little, almost laughing, at that idea. "I don't think there's that many of them. But we're bronzeriders. We've all got some chance of weyrleader. I guess some of them want us to do it how they would." Which serves as answer, as does the shake of his head, to Telavi's question. "But I do try to hear them all, at least. Who'll say anything." "I imagine they do," Telavi murmurs, humor-- and not just humor-- bright in her eyes. She gives him another look, a reconsidering look this time-- that we, maybe, though it might be hard to place-- and says, "I imagine they vary quite a bit, too." "Some of them," A'rist agrees, letting his end of the conversation sort of fall off, there. Maybe it's secret, bronzerider-only stuff. Maybe, it's would be too much a tip of his own hand, if he were to share. "You never had greenriders coming to talk to you in weyrlinghood?" Telavi doesn't press... but she does purse her lips a fraction before they curve into a smile, as she glances away: towards his hearth, as it happens, though it really could have been anything. "I had several, though whether it was specifically because I ride green-- or," wait, she looks back now, "Did you mean my weyrlinghood?" Which so rarely comes into question nowadays. A'rist takes a moment to even track down whatever discontinuity might have been there. "Well," after a beat or two, "yeah. I mean, obviously greenriders are going to talk to you now that you're a weyrlingmaster. They're greenriders. And all their dragons are getting older." Obviously. "But yeah, when you guys were... well, back then." "Even a few non-greenriders talk to me, believe it or not," Telavi marvels in a muted murmur. "Once in a while... Back then, though," and she's back to more normal tones after a sip of water, "Not really. Not who wasn't my," air quotes, "mentor. But then, keep in mind, I was seeking a lot of people out; that silver thread got me access to wingleaders and wingseconds, not that it was just them, and they had all sorts of things. Not that it got me the wing I wanted, in the end," but her tone suggests there's no accounting for taste. The idea of no greenrider solidarity, such as he's seen from (some of) the bronzeriders, doesn't seem to thrill A'rist. "So what wing did you want, then?" Maybe he's even almost forgotten the dozing bronze on the ledge. Draped in greens. As well he should be. "Mielline's." Telavi pulls a moue. "Or Frostbite, but-- I realize this might sound like, 'oh no, the Weyrleader asked for me specifically, tragedy!'" complete with flappy hands and melodramatic high-pitched voice, "and not as though I don't like most of Boreal or didn't make the best of it or don't think it could have been different if he hadn't gotten hurt like that, but it was a bother at the time. You know, when you work for something and the people who can make it happen want it to happen and you have your heart set--" That might have been a little too much. Her hands settle to the table, encircling the glass. "You were curious about green-led wings and things." A'rist brings his teeth together when she flaps, and leans back, just a little. A strange little look touches his face. "So don't get your heart too set on anything," he sums up. And then, that strange look becomes more pronounced, if no more strange. "Well, mostly I was just thinking of how Lythronath is with greens, I dunno if you'd call it curious..." "I wouldn't say that," Telavi says reluctantly. "Except for the part where 'too' is by definition too. And-- What are you thinking now, then?" "Um." And A'rist, he just shrugs. "I guess... that probably, Lythronath isn't going to sleep for too much longer, and if I want to finish what I was working on..." Awkward blink at the greenrider. Telavi promptly asks, "What were you working on?" in lieu of getting up and trotting off-- and might even if disturbing Solith mightn't wake up Lythronath even sooner. A genteel wave suggests, "Go ahead." She might even let him work in silence. A'rist blinks at the weyrlingmaster. "Look, you're... in my weyr." And... his dragon is snoring, unhelpful. "I kinda... Maybe you can come back some other time, and I'll have more than cookies. Okay?" Telavi tilts a brow upward at that, bemused and then, abruptly, smiling-- and standing after a last sip of water; "You know, 'I'd appreciate a little peace and quiet' isn't the worst thing in the world. Good day, A'rist. Thanks for the hospitality." And, over her shoulder as she departs, "She says she'll try not to wake him." Believe it or not, they even do. |
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