Logs:The Definition of Duty
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| RL Date: 14 May, 2016 |
| Who: Catling, K'zin, N'rov |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: At the Fort Games feast, weyrling, wingrider and Weyrleader discuss the duty of riders and imaginary futures. |
| Where: Southern Bowl, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 10, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
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| It's evening of game day, braziers lit for warmth just outside of the caverns while there's hustle and bustle inside. Between dances, N'rov claims a drink and threads his way out for fresh air. It's evening of game day, and no noses have been broken yet. Feasts are the sort of thing that draw visitors, particularly he who lends his ear readily to the call of his stomach. Rasavyth is settled on the rim between a green and a blue, his eyes whirling a contented shade of blue-green while K'zin exits the cavern with his own drink in hand, in pursuit of the Fortian Weyrleader. Rather than call out, he begins to whistle, a tuneless thing - the sort of tunelessness that gets him a few dirty looks but might just give N'rov enough pause to glace back and catch the waggle of dark brows that will serve as initial greeting, if he does. Catling is seated outside near one of the braziers, warming herself. She's taken off her riding leathers, and now is wearing a plain dress with a dark cloak wrapped around her shoulders. She turns her head towards N'rov as he steps out, then looks at the other rider. Then she turns her gaze towards Riyoth. The young brown is draped on a ledge, his wings half-open, draped in sleepy abandon. N'rov's not on so much of a mission that he can't be forestalled, it seems; his own look is less dirty than a dry check of just who's doing that, and in the next moment it's a crooked smile. "Of course," he remarks to those brows once he's stopped (near Catling's brazier, so conveniently). Equally dryly, "Enjoying yourself?" "I always enjoy myself when you're buying," K'zin replies to the other bronzerider with an easy shrug that lifts his custom made (though worn in) riding leathers with their foreign knot and wing patch before he's stopping by N'rov and reaching to clasp the Weyrleader's hand in familiar, friendly greeting. "Nice games." And since Catling is right there and K'zin is the sort to have a (slightly goofy) friendly smile for the weyrling and a polite nod of his head, "Quartz flew well in their drill, weyrling," is offered as particular compliment. "Are you proud?" is directed to both of them, Catling for her role and N'rov for his. The weyrling looks up, blinking in the fading light, opening her mouth for a startled reply, then ducking her head as she realizes the Weyrleader isn't speaking to her. Her cheeks flush, thoughb it isn't clear whether she's embarrassed or relieved. And then.... people are talking to her, and she rises to her feet, sketching an embarrassed, but proper salute. "Sir. Sirs." She clears her throat. "Thank you. I... erm... it's a bit rather... loud in there...." she murmurs to N'rov. Then to K'zin, she adds, "Proud? Riyoth did well. He was a credit to his training. But...." She frowns slightly. "I'm *glad* he did well. I'm glad I didn't dishonor the Weyr with some ridiculous screw-up. But.... proud? Proud is...." She looks down at her feet. "Hearing ballads about the riders that went before, that fought Thread, that did so much.... I'd feel embarrassed to be proud...." "What, you didn't just show up for the food?" can't be a real question, not with how warmly amused N'rov's Bollian baritone is; it might be partly for Catling's sake as he turns to listen, looking more and more amused the longer she goes on. To K'zin with a clap for his shoulder, "This is Catling. She's shy," because clearly the other man can't tell on his own. "Spelled R-i-y-o-t-h. And I'd say it went more how I expected," hoped, "except I don't plan to get stuck between Flint and Jasper riders anytime soon." Not only is it loud in the caverns, it's not-so-gradually getting louder. K'zin's dark eyes glint with amusement in the light of the brazier at N'rov's not real question before he's blinking them at Catling. It might be apparent in that moment that he didn't expect so deep a response. There's a laugh though, sort of half abashed and he dips his head to meet his cup for a hearty swallow before looking to N'rov, though he doesn't speak until the Weyrleader's made introductions. Rather than return the salute, he offers his hand out to Catling. "High Reaches duties, Shy Catling. You make me feel an arrogant ass for my pride in only moments. A fine example of a female brownrider, wouldn't you say?" He inquires the Weyrleader's opinion, but his tone is light and his smile friendly. "I believe," he lowers his voice to confide in Catling (although obviously so N'rov can 'overhear'), "that without that sort of thing bronzeriders would quickly become intolerable. I'm K'zin, Rasavyth's rider," since N'rov failed in that half of his introduction duties. (For shame!) Even in the light of the brazier, the flush on Catling's cheeks is apparent, and briefly she hunches her shoulders. "My duties to you and to your dragon, K'zin, Rasavyth's rider," she answers. "And please forgive me to make you feel.... as you do. Though I have been told that all bronzeriders are generally intolerable.... I guess I look at intolerable in different ways. Besides, I'm sure that a certain amount of pride is good for morale. Good to be growing and healthy again after.... last year." She shudders. "Good to uphold a sense of self and... well... to understand one's place in the scheme of things. I suppose I'm perverse. I don't want to see anyone scored or worse but... in some ways I wish I'd been born and Riyoth'd been born early enough to fight Thread. I want to.... to help people...." THen she ducks her head. I... sorry. I... should shut up and let you two catch up." N'rov, shameless; he contributes only a low chuckle that can be construed as assent for the example and then an encouraging, possibly too-encouraging, "Keep going." He has, after all, his drink; another sip's shallow, forcing it to last. "Ask her a question, K'zin." "You're a bronzerider, too, N'rov," and therefore subject to ego reduction just as K'zin is. The comment is an aside with a look askance as if the Weyrleader might have forgotten the color of his dragon. Still, the High Reaches rider doesn't seem to flinch from the challenge(s) laid at his feet. Pop quiz time! "Close your eyes," he encourages the young brownrider. "Imagine a world without Thread. Not just a long Interval like this where we calculate how many turns we might have until it returns, while Thread is still an 'until' and not an 'if.'" He watches the young woman's face, "How would you help people in that world? You and Riyoth. What would you want to do to help?" Catling's eyes widen at N'rov, but self-discipline keeps her from uttering a protest. Still, there is a flicker in her eyes that does not.... quite.... die. She nods her head, turns to look at Riyoth, then closes her eyes. "Would we even have dragons in such a world?" she asks softly. "Would we live in Weyrs and Holds...." She sighs softly. "In such a world, I might be a different Catling. A different woman, with different needs. But....." She shivers. "I would have taken the ill to medics.... taken food, medicine. I would protect caravans from raiders. I would.... I would speak out against injustices. Make sure that those who are mistreated and have no voice... are given one." She tilts her head. "But that is still thinking of *this* Pern. Pern without Thread.... wouldn't be Pern. It'd be Pern-'like'..... but not the same. And.... as horrible as Thread is....." She shakes her head. "It's made us the people we are today. Mostly good people. Mostly peaceful people. We rely on each other, work together. We all 'need' each other, least to first. How can we be Pern without Thread, even in imagining?" Said Weyrleader feigns a look of shock, nay, horror at his dragon's bronzeness; at K'zin's question he watches the pair with open interest but, deliberately, no interruption. Not that it prevents him from flagging down a passing helper and talking her out of three mugs of mulled cider, one of which he silently extends to Catling just as soon as she's had her say. The second, that's for K'zin whether he's ready for it or not, along with the crooked brow that invites a response. The cider may be potent, but it's also warm. "The extinction of dragons isn't something I choose to think possible, even in that world." Unless the Queens simply stopped laying. Even then K'zin would probably choose to deny it unto his last breath. He absently accepts the second mug, paying no mind to either mug while he makes his reply to both. "If only Thread made us strong, I might agree with you. There are other hardships and other trials that test our mettle. Just because having an enemy keeps you sharp doesn't mean you don't make the victory strike if you can." His dark gaze is heavy now, "To want Thread, to want that purpose to always, always exist is selfishness and self-importance. How many in the world can rise to fight the menace? How many must sit, helpless and afraid, hoping that the trust they've placed in their champions-" a little gesture indicates the trio of riders and those around them, "-is not misplaced? Would you have hundreds and thousands be weak so you may be seen as strong and heroic?" He lifts his brows in earnest inquiry. His tone is never angry, only firm. N'rov doesn't mind foreign riders trying to school his weyrlings, does he? If he does, K'zin is oblivious since he never looks at the other, bigger knotted bronzerider. "No! You misunderstand me!" Catling's eyes widen. She takes the mug and drinks from it without even really seeming to know what she is drinking. Without even seeming to know that she 'is' drinking, actually. "If there could be a Pern without Thread, that would be... amazing. If Thread could be ended right here, right now.... oh, I'd give 'most anything for that. But.... what would 'I' do to help in a Pern without Thread, that had never had Thread? I don't know. Because I wouldn't be Catling. And maybe I'd have had an easier life. Maybe I'd have had a life with a mother who wanted me and a father who knew how to love me beyond a puppy. I've already 'been' tested so very much." And now her chin lifts and her eyes flash. And then, losing confidence, her head lowers again. "Everyone deserves a Thread-free Pern. I can't give that to people. Riyoth chose me. I don't know why. But my duty is to serve Pern. I only wish I could do..... more. Not to seem strong.... or heroic. I'm not either. I'm just a stupid girl. But I know my duty.... and Riyoth's. And that.... is an honor I can't betray." She looks between the two men, bowing her head. Then she adds in a thick, mortified voice, "And I still can't say in any decent words what I mean." As the younger bronzerider takes his turn, N'rov keeps an increasingly careful watch, gray eyes intent. "They don't exist to serve us," he says crisply; he might say more were it not for the weyrling's fire, and he gives her that chance to reply. In the end, though there's a twist to his mouth at that self-deprecation, his voice is low and steady. "You never know what we might between into," he says for that so-different universe. "K'zin's worked with weyrlings too, Catling, though I don't expect you to know that," his tone reassuring for all that training's hardly all the same anywhere, anywhen. More: this is someone who's been trusted by someone... for whatever that means. "Don't get too tangled up in the might-have-beens, but when you're busy polishing straps or the like, think. Anything else for tonight, K'zin?" "Inconsistently," K'zin qualifies of his working with weyrlings with a smile that holds honest humility. Then, with a breath: "Just this:" is all that's left for tonight, and plainly said, "I never said a Pern that had never had Thread. I'm speaking of the future, Catling. Our future. Maybe not in our lifetime, but someday," the bronzerider seems sure of that much. "We're in an Interval. It's the closest we get to being in that future and we're faced with challenges those in a Pass can't dream of. Theirs is to rise, to fight, to do it effectively and with as little injury or loss of life as may be managed through practice and practice and perfecting all that can be." He gives a gesture to indicate the games - their role in that practice. "But we have a duty to our own Weyr," his to High Reaches and hers to Fort, and so on - not presumably to Pern at large in his opinion, "to help our future dragonriders, to sort what needs to be done when there is no Thread so that when the day comes we'll have an answer to the question of why dragons and dragonriders are still relevant when the looming threat is gone." Only now does he look to the Weyrleader, his demeanor shifting to something politely professional as he says, "Forgive me, Weyrleader, if I speak out of turn." Catling keeps her head down, nodding briefly, her expression absolutely mortified. She clutches the cider in her hands, looking down into the cup without seeming to see it. "Yes... sir. Sirs. I...." She shrugs her shoulders, and then Riyoth blinks, then offers a sleepy, but plaintively worried croon. "I'll learn better." "Your weyrlingmaster's good for that," N'rov reminds Catling after a brief headshake to K'zin, "and you'll have plenty more to learn from your wingleader, but tonight goes to show you can also get ideas from those you run across." A faint smile flicks at the corners of his mouth, "Even if they are from another Weyr. So chin up. Chew on those ideas. See where they fit. Rattle them around in your head," and though he might tug on his fifteen-month daughter's curls, he leaves the short weyrling's be. "See which are worth swallowing whole or otherwise, and which to spit out like an ill-cleaned fish's intestine." He eyes her. "But for tonight, weyrling, just enjoy the rest of it. Couple months for Turnover, you might as well." Or else! With that, he turns away, and it might not be coincidence that another man's approaching them at the same time. "K'zin, do you remember..." |
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