Logs:Of Showing Initiative
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| RL Date: 31 October, 2006 |
| Who: Dassah, Imariel, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 8, Turn 9 (Interval 10) |
| Your location's current time: 15:41 on day 28, month 8, Turn 59, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer afternoon. You go towards the lake shore. Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr This shoreline marks the edge of the freshwater lake that fills the southeastern portion of the bowl. The gritty dirt of the bowl gives way to smooth sand. Dragons adore diving from high above into the lake's deep center, often imploring to their lifemates to bathe them with sweetsand. Humans and firelizards alike frequently fish from these clear waters, which are abundantly stocked. Across the lake, the bowl wall rises high into the sky, its face dotted with weyr entrances. A few dragonlengths above the water, glimpses of a level cliff can be seen amidst boulders lining the edge. Just south of here, a smaller pond of water is divided from the main lake by a natural bridge of land. A path leads across the bridge and up to the diving cliffs, winding through a dotting of small boulders on its way. The afternoon is partly cloudy, though the sun still shines through. The air is calm, with no hint of breeze. The water's glasslike surface mirrors the cliff walls and sky above. Obvious exits: LAke Pond Diving Cliff Bowl Imariel walks over from the eastern side of the bowl. Imariel has arrived. R'hin's taking full advantage of the warm summer afternoon; he's sprawled out on his rock, a flat topped affair that's perfect for sunning. His shirt is off, bundled under his head, one arm thrown across his eyes to shade them from the light. Since he's still, back from the path that winds around the lake, he could be easily missed, unless one's looking around. And, into that serene warm summer day walks what a lot of the candidates consider a frightening thing. Six weyrbrats and a nanny. Only this lot isn't the wild, screaming gaggle of children terrorizing the poor candidate. Instead, they're following along behind the girl, arms waving up and down like so many birds flying south for the winter. "All right, Hanna, you're a blue, and Joelle, you're a green, so you two peel off and fight Thread in the east. Genna, Bailee, you're brown, so you take Thread falling in the south. Lala, Stenna, you're the bronze wingleaders, so stay with your wingmen and help them. Remember, I'm the gold, and you have to obey me," comes Imariel's voice as she directs the "dragons" to the shallow part of the lake. She remains on shore while the children dutifully make their way into the water. And, no, she has no idea she and her dragons are being observed. The noise of excited children playing "dragonriders" is certainly enough of a disturbance that R'hin props himself up on an elbow to eye the group. He watches silently a moment, then observes with bland amusement, voice pitched to carry, "I think Genna should be the Wingleader. She's got a better head on her shoulders, and you oughtn't let those bronzeriders think they're entitled." Imariel is momentarily startled at R'hin's voice, and turns her head toward his direction. "Oh, good day, sir," she says, waving at the Weyrleader. "Ah, well, they decided amongst themselves, you see. They chose Lala and Stenna as their wingleaders, and even as the Weyrwoman, I don't think I should dictate to them. But, Hanna /is/ a wingsecond, so she's of invaluable assistance to her wingleader," she grins, gesturing as the two children duck and dive after "Thread" in the water, acting almost as a team. "But, I'll bear that in mind --" She turns abruptly back to the children. "Joelle, no ducking your sister. Remember what I said? Dragonriders who duck their sister get Threadscored and have to sit out the rest of the 'fall with me. Help Bailee up and apologize." And, then back to the Weyrleader after there's suitable obeying of the "weyrwoman." "They're all very good children. I'm having a wonderful time with them." A twitch of brows, as if perhaps R'hin's not particularly enamoured of the scene. "Your efforts to assist the harpers in romanticising dragonriding notwithstanding-- you should definitely talk to some riders, candidate," he uses that title deliberately, drawling. "Ask them what it's -really- like. Thread no longer falls." A hand gestures towards the children, "And we no longer live quite the glamorous life of the harper tales." The smile fails. "Yes, sir," is said, not necessarily humbly, but certainly less confident of herself as she was two minutes ago. "It's just a game, sir, and they're having fun with one another. I didn't intend it as a lesson in Threadfighting /or/ as romanticizing of dragonriders, but as a means of keeping them from squabbling," she explains, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I apologize if I've offended. Once they've had their swim, we'll leave you in peace." She turns back toward the lake, keeping a close eye on the smallest two children, in particular. "That's not what I meant. I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about -you-." R'hin's probably not unaware of her embarrassment, but he makes no moves to assuage her feelings. "You -were- Searched, at least according to the report I read. It's time to decide if you're taking this as an opportunity to be examined, and decided upon yourself - or whether you'll simply let fate decide for you--" as she turns her back, he settles back down on the rock, one arm propped beneath him, eyes closed, as he adds blandly, "--A course I don't particularly recommend." Imariel looks back to the Weyrleader, her eyes guarded. "I was Searched, yes, sir, and my duties today are to assist the nannies," she says slowly. "And I take being Searched very seriously. In a way, Fate did decide a direction for me -- albeit an unexpected direction. However, I understand the serious implications of being Searched, and will use this time as a Candidate to learn as much as I can, duties permitting. I've plans to seek riders out and talk with them. A couple have already made it known they're more than willing to talk to us about the reality of being a rider, and I'll gladly take advantage of their knowledge and experience. Should I prove worthy of Impression, that knowledge will be of immense value." She pauses. "Whether or not 'Thread is still falling." She doesn't turn her back this time, but moves to a rock and sits where she can keep an eye on her charges, and speak with R'hin. R'hin's lips twist a bit at her mention of fate. "You say all the right things Imariel, all the -expected- things. But you don't seem to-- react," the Weyrleader observes, half turning his head to eye Imariel sidelong without shifting from his prone position. He's silent, then, as if it's an opening for an expected answer. Dassah walks over from the eastern side of the bowl. Dassah has arrived. Immie's brow knits a moment. "And what kind of reaction would you have me give, Weyrleader? Annoyance that it feels like whatever I say is wrong? Or, should I be gloriously happy and gush about how wonderful it is to be a Candidate? I can tell you I'm stunned I was Searched, and the shock hasn't quite worn off. I'm facing something I never expected, would never have imagined possible, and I'm doing the best I can to look at myself and find out /why/." She glances back to the six children in the water. "That I'm scared to death, because those six children probably know more about dragons than I do right now." She shakes her head. "I'm taking this one day at a time, and if that's too slow, well, it's the only way I know how to do things. Methodically, watching, listening and learning. I don't think of it as a Harper's tale, it's /very/ real to me," she says to R'hin, looking to the rock where he lounges. R'hin is settled on his rock, sunning in the late afternoon warmth, shirt off and bundled beneath his head. He's half studying Imariel sidelong, lips pursing slightly, ignoring the children as best he's able to. "I don't -expect- any particular reaction. Just -a- reaction." There's a glint of eyes, and if it's satisfaction, it's swiftly covered as he turns his head upwards, one arm shading his eyes from the light. "So long as you come to a conclusion -before- the hatching, slow is acceptable." There's a faint kind of drawl to his words, like he's teasing, but it's hard to tell for sure, and his expression isn't much of a clue. Dassah comes onto the scene with quiet steps. Clad in breeches today, this has enabled her to have pockets to have her hands thrust in. Gaze is downcast atteh ground in front of her, at a small stone she is kicking along in front of her as she approaches the lake. Hearing voices, she looks up to see another candidate talking with the weyrleader. She offers both a polite smile as she gives the stone a kick hard enough to send it off into the water, the edge of which she stops next to. "And what conclusion? That I was worthy of notice by the dragons? Well, I accept that. I don't know /why/ I was searched, and that's something I think about constantly. I mean, it certainly can't be for my diplomatic skills, though perhaps the dragon thought I smelled good since I work around food," Imariel says. "And, well, if you want reaction, just let me get assigned handyman duty again. You'll hear screams of horror from the carpenter I beaned with a hammer yesterday, I'm sure." She keeps a weather eye out on her charges, who have now abandoned their game of being dragons for splashing and giggling in the shallows. "I'd actually hoped Candidates would be assigned duties that taught them a bit about dragons and being riders than hammering nails and sewing." Although R'hin doesn't note Dassah's approach at first, quiet as it is, the nearer splash garners his attention, and he gives the other candidate a wry sort of smile that could be taken as greeting. "Some people," the bronzerider begins to answer Imariel's words, voice rising enough that it can be heard by Dassah, "Think that Impression is random. Not fate-- just being in the right place at the right time. Those same people might also point to me as a sterling example of such a thing." A beat, as he props himself up onto an elbow again, serious, sober. "Is it wrong of us to hope that candidates might take initiative? I did. They'll be opportunities to learn, however-- M'wen will be organising for you to shadow some of the riders, to see the duties they perform. I'd suggest you take advantage of it, and quiz whomever you are assigned to thoroughly." "Sir, I'll be happy to take initiative once the shock of this has worn off just a little," Immie counters. "I'm not going to sit on my laurels and expect things to be offered to me on a silver platter. That's just not my style. If it was, I wouldn't even /be/ here. I'd've stayed where it was nice and safe back in the hold." She hears the splash and looks up, smiling and nodding at Dassah, digging at the sand with her booted foot. "When the opportunity presents itself, I talk to people -- riders and non-riders alike -- asking questions and learning what I can. The assigned duties come first, but even when I'm working and I get a chance, I talk to others and listen to their answers. And I talk to the other candidates, too. Find out where their minds are. I'm not just performing without thinking. Frankly, I'd be leaping at the chance to even /ride/ a dragon, since I've never done that." Dassah looks over at R'hin curiously. "Shadowing a rider?" She remarks. "That could be interesting, though I geuss that depends on the rider. Some are more... Active... Than others. But I'd love to spend a day seeing how High Reaches' riders keep busy, compared to Southern's." She looks over at Imariel, and her eyes narrow a little bit. "I... Think I have met you, haven't I? I don't recall your name though..." While some might take Imariel's latter statement as opportunity for an invitation to do just that, R'hin does not; his lips twitch instead. "You'll have your opportunity to ride during candidacy." Dassah's query earns a nod of his head. "I asked M'wen to be sure to include it. I want all of you to see what we -do- during an Interval. It's far removed from harper's tales of glory, I'll tell you that much for free. Ask M'wen in particular," his voice lowers into amusement, "About the duties he's often assigned to by his Wingleader." He doesn't leap to offer an introduction, pale eyes flicking between the pair of candidates instead, studying them. Glancing out at the six children she's been assigned to watch, she then nods to Dassah. "Acutally, we've met a couple of times," she replies. "I'm Imariel, former kitchen helper, now Candidate. We've talked in the kitchen a few times," she says. "You'd cut your finger the last time we ran into each other, and we talked to the Weyrleader about ideas for Interval." Her eyes are drawn back to the children, though, when there's a squall of protest from the littlest. "Joelle -- I said no dunking," she calls, rising from the rock. "On shore, now, yound lady. You can play in the sand for a little while, or go back to the creche, your choice." There's firmness in her tone. "Apology, first." And then it's back to R'hin. "Shadowing a rider sounds like a very good idea, sir." Her voice is once more carefully modulated into an even tone. Dassah looks a bit abashed. "Of course. My mind is a bit out of it today. Still adjusting to all this myself, to be honest." She looks over to R'hin curiously. "M'wen? Well, I will be sure to ask him, though to be hoenst when yuo tell me to ask someone soemthing with that smile, I worry about what will happen when I do. But, Satiet went well enough, so I'll trust you." She looks to Imariel. "You're on kids today? Ugh. Better you than me." It's brief indeed, but there's a definite twist of lips from R'hin as Imariel's tone becomes carefully even. "I'm surprised you two haven't run into each other in the barracks yet," is all he says, however. A low-throated chuckle is his response to Dassah's wariness. "What will happen? You'll get the truth, is what will happen- no sugar coating, no concern of what his Wingleader thinks. Which is more than I can say for most riders you might chose to approach." There's respect in the Weyrleader's voice for the brownrider, a rare trait indeed. Imariel watches as a sullen Joelle drags out of the water, pouting as she flops on the shore. The girl doesn't say anything to the child, merely watches for a moment. Then she's turning back to Dassah and R'hin. "We're all on different duties, and most of the time just crawl in bed of a night, exhausted." She shrugs. "I'm sure you remember well enough what it was like, sir," she says. As for Dassah's comment on watching children, she gives a bit of a grin. "It's safer for all concerned to have me watching kids than working with tools, trust me. And, kids are all right. You just have to let them know their limits, and then stick to it. Don't be won over by a sweet smile, or else you'll find yourself tied to a chair with them running wild." She listens to R'hin's comments about honesty. "I'd rather have a distasteful truth than a sugar-coated prevarication," is all she says as she sits back down on the rock. "At least with the former, you know what to expect and can act accordingly. With a silver-tongued story-teller, you're apt to be taken in and then let down." "I'm not known for falling for pretty smiles. But they frustrate me, and that is never a good thing. I... Am not big on patience." Dassah smirks. She looks over to R'hin, "Well, I wil be sure to ask him, and hear what his honest opinion is. But that won't stop me from looking forward to that chance to spend a day with a rider. For all I grew up at a weyr, I admit I never was clear on what they do..." "Ah, but, our society is founded on sugar-coated tales, is it not? We have an entire craft dedicated to it, their entire lives built around the necessity." R'hin flings a hand out, seeming to indicate the Weyr at large. Dassah's comment has him pushing up so he's seated upright, running a hand through his hair. "In Interval? Drill for Thread that will never fall in our lifetime. Sweepride barren land that isn't occupied except by those who -don't- want to be helped or seen, by and large. Watch duty that is little more than message-boy since there's no danger of Thread. Protect Pern from nebulous other threats never specified. That is what we -do-, but--" he pauses, exhaling slowly, "--not what we -should- be doing." Imariel is listening and then she frowns. "At the risk of saying something wrong again, I don't think it's logical to categorize an entire craft by a few examples," she ventures in regards to R'hin's comments. "That's like saying every rider is a gambler and carouser, or every tradesman is out to cheat someone. There are good and bad examples in every walk of life, and lumping them all in one category isn't practical." She shrugs. "And, even if there's no Thread falling, training for it is still viable. Otherwise, the knowledge is lost, and when Thread does fall again, no one will be ready for it." Dassah is curious, and steps closer. "What .should. they be doing, then, Sir?" She asks curiosly. "Preserving the knowledge of THread is a traditional role. it's what riders do. Do you think they will be able to do that and something else?" She looks to Imariel a moment, but doesn't comment on what she herself said. The Weyrleader chuckles, amusement glittering in pale eyes, "If you think a Harper exists that doesn't lie or-- at least-- stretch the truth regularly, then you're not nearly as worldly as you think, Imariel." R'hin settles his hands onto the rock on either side of him, half leaning back. "And, I said nothing of completely removing training of Thread. But to do it for hours every day, when the next fall will be two hundred Turns away? Ah, what wasted potential. So many, that could've been brilliant crafters, amazing farmers, raised a stable of well-behaved children instead doomed to a life of obscurity." At face value, the words might seem facetiousness, but there's an intensity to R'hin's voice, and the way he cants his head which seems to hint at his seriousness. "And why not?" he counters Dassah. "Who's to say we can't preserve knowledge, while perusing other avenues. Make ourselves less dependant on tithes during Interval. Pursue the dreams interrupted by Impressing? What if you should Impress, only to realize you wished to be a baker after all? Dragonriding is not something that can be thrown away like that," he snaps his fingers. "No, but as you point out -- which was what I was trying to say not so successfully the other day, sir -- training doesn't take up every hour of every day. Why /shouldn't/ a rider who shows potential in a craft or other endeavor be allowed to pursue that, as well? Are there no riders who are good with tanning or woodcrafting who do that in their spare time? Or one who can write or play music? If they cannot be masters at their craft, they can at least use it for the betterment of the weyr, can't they? Are there no crafters here who can teach them?" Immariel shrugs. "And, if one has the skills of a Harper, can't they be urged to tell the truth about what life is like in a weyr? I can understand the frustration of your words, but like you just tole me a few minutes ago, why can't someone take the initiative and suggest these ideas? So they haven't been done before? Sometimes new innovations are needed to keep the old ones alive. Without some changes, things stagnate, and when a pond stagnates, it dies." Dassah shakes her head a little bit. "Well, Sir, I am sure you know best. It is, after all, your weyr to run as you see fit." She stretch. "If you will both excuse me... I feel a headache coming on, and I think I will go see what I can do about it. R'hin, Imariel, have a good day both of you." R'hin gives Imariel a long, bemused sort of look. "What do you think -I- am doing? I, however, am one person, and not universally liked. A change of this sort of magnitude cannot be done simply because I want it done," there's a faint curl of lips, though, as if he's considered it. "Tradition is a heavy boulder, so the saying goes. It takes quite a bit to shift it to another direction." Dassah's comment earns a bland sort of smile. "-Do- I know best?" the query is, perhaps, rhetorical, though the way pale eyes rest on the candidate might indicate otherwise. Only a brief tip of his head is given as Dassah makes her excuses. Another nanny comes out, leaning down to whisper in Imariel's ear. She nods and smiles. The nanny then calls the children in from the water, and leads them back to the creche. The smallest dashes up and throws her arms around Immie, water drops going everywhere. Immie turns to Dassah. "See you later, then, Dassah. I hope you feel better soon." Only then does she turn to R'hin. "One person, yes, but it seems to me there are quite a few here who might agree with you, and perhaps other Weyrleaders, as well. Together that's a fair number of people, I'd think. So, it's not as if you're /totally/ alone in this. And, tradition may be a heavy boulder, but it's not like you have to bear it all on your own back." She regards the Weyrleader for a long time, then, "I stand a chance to be a dragonrider, and I've thought about the traditions a lot in the past few days. What you decide will be what I and others have to live with. Why don't you ask your weyr what they want, what they'd be willing to do? Even if you're not universally liked, you're the 'leader, and the position is respected, at the very least. You'll be heard where others won't." Dassah strolls away from the lake shore, back to the main bowl. Dassah has left. "Yes. What you -have- to live with. That's no small thing, indeed." R'hin snorts, briefly, reaching for his shirt and shaking it out. "There's a vast difference between position and respect. I know that better than anyone. I don't want people who will follow blindly simply because I say so. I want people to believe in what -I- believe in." "Then you need to let them know your ideas to give them a chance to believe in what you believe in, sir," Immie remarks. "Some of them may resist, but at least you'll be giving them a chance to make an informed choice. I don't know all that much, but I do know I like to have facts to work with. You're the Weyrleader, and people /will/ listen to you. Maybe some of them will want to wait and see how these ideas work, and then go along with them, but you have to give them something to see in order for them to know." She shrugs again. "Maybe you've already been doing this, but I haven't seen it. I've talked to you, so I have some idea what you're thinking about. Does everyone else?" With a sharp snap of his shirt, R'hin's on his feet, angry. "You're such an idealist. 'It will all work out, they will listen to you because you're the Weyrleader.' It doesn't work like that in the real world. In the real world, most of the riders fought Thread. Tradition is what kept them alive, and you think they will give that away simply because I-- barely out of weyrlinghood, younger than their own children-- say so? No. I am no fool, and I will not be pushed before I am ready." He takes a deep breath. "You know. But who are you? You are no one anyone would listen to. Do you think a Wingleader like Melata would be swayed by -your- beliefs, any more than mine?" Blinking, Imariel stands as well. "Well, being an idealist isn't as bad as being a pessimist!" she snaps back. "Why do you bother asking people for ideas and opinions when all you want to do is have a chance to make them feel bad about it? Sure, I'm no body special, but at least I've tried to be positive about things instead of wallowing in insecurity!" Her hands go to her hips, and there's fire in her eyes now. Her voice doesn't raise all that much. "I've listened to you, and I've thought you had some good points. I've tried to take what you say to heart, and learn from the mistakes I've made by speaking my mind to you." She takes a breath. "I'm not pushing anybody, all I'm doing is trying to understand. You never know what you can do until you /try/. You're young, yes, but you yourself suggested that being young isn't all that bad." A pause. "Sir," is added. "Why ask for someone's thoughts if you're not interested? -- and get upset when they might not agree with yours? That's not going to solve anything." R'hin has an odd sort of reaction to Imariel's anger; he seems almost pleased, anger vanished in an instant, his gaze speculative. "Because, I want to see what type of person you are, Imariel. And now I have." He tugs on his shirt, gives a brief tip of head, then turns on his heel to depart. It's not so easy for Imariel to let go of her own anger, but she doesn't say anything as the Weyrleader puts on his shirt. "Good day, sir," she says, to him, nodding in respect but her eyes are very wary now as they follow his departure. After that, she turns on her own heels, heading back inside to finish out her assigned duties. "Well, that went well," she mutters bitterly, her strides pretty big for a girl her size. You wander north towards the main bowl area. |
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