[M'try] Overworked and underpaid.
RL Date: 8/27/10
IC Date: 8/7/23 --Belatedly stole this log from Vanissa. Dates may be off slightly.
Starstones, Fort Weyr
The Star Stones are located on a kind of stone platform on the rim of the bowl, with the time-honoured Finger Rock, Star Stone, and Eye Rock in their respective places. It's also a perfect vantage point to observe the goings on of the bowl far below. A watchdragon is generally posted here in addition to a few other choice locations along the rim of the Weyr.
Sometimes, yes, M'try and Mohraith get assigned their turn on the Star Stones, expecting relief to come along around noon. Really, they likely trade shifts often, since it makes the brown happy to sit up there and boom greetings-- << WELCOME HOME, Naylith! >> << Hi, Genmeth! >>-- so they likely weren't actually on the roster for today to start with. But the weather is fine, and the brownrider can be just as happy up here, leaning against his dragon's ribs on the shady side, shirtsleeves rolled up, the breeze toying with too-long hair, scribbling idly.
Down below in the bowl, T'kyn winds up drills with some sort of harangue, finger pointed at you-you-you and you (female riders all, Nissa being one of them), none of which look pleased to be singled out. Obsidian is dismissed, the rides disperse and Liath makes a short hop to the cavern entrance, whereupon her rider disappears into the cavern. Nissa returns several minutes later with a sack lunch and skin straps over her shoulder, climbs back aboard Liath and the pair arrive at the starstones shortly thereafter. Of course the green has noted which brown is up there, her greeting precedes her, the whisper of waves on sand, << Mohraith! Hello, are the stones warm today? I need to rest. >> She sounds tired.
<< THEY ARE! >> Mohraith delights to answer, shifting without much real warning so that M'try gets jostled and gives him a disgruntled look over his shoulder. "I see where your affections truly lie," he chides mildly, watching for the green's arrival without the necessity to close his sketchbook-- it must be benign, his afternoon's work. He returns to the writing but absently now, his eyes often going from the page to the horizon, waiting for Liath's landing with a more contained excitement than his dragon's. << Come and rest and get warm with me! >>
Liath's touchdown is accomplished with less grace and more heaviness than is her usual, jarring her rider in the process. It takes Nissa a moment of rubbing her neck with one gloved hand, rotating her head to hopefully counteract the impact, then the clink of buckles as she releases the safety straps and slides down. She gives the green a fond and comforting pat before she steps away, Liath immediately scooting over Mohraith's side to warm her chilled hide. "Hey M'tri." Nissa's greeting is somewhat subdued today, although there's a smile for him and glad-to-see-you in her eyes. "Have ya had lunch yet? I have enough for two." And those straps are shed, set on the stones so she can shuck her flight gear. That done, she lowers herself to sit beside him with a weary breath let out.
"I have not," M'try answers, thumping the dragon behind him with the ball of his fist while Mohraith scoots to try and make room for his would-be paramour. "But I intended to eat once my shift here was done, having brought up something like breakfast when we started." His eyes lift from the page entirely now, meeting Vanissa's with a smile to answer hers. "Please, eat your lunch, I'm not starving enough to take food from the weary," he adds, the levity of a jest behind the words.
Vanissa tilts M'try a puzzled look for that thump he gives Mohraith but says nothing in that regard, simply leans to offer her cheek his way while apologetically murmuring, "Sorry I haven't been around more. T'kyn..." As he likely knows if his brown communicates with Liath regularly. There's a slow smile in response to his comment, "Well now. That's good to know." She leans back, her pile of flight gear is shoved back carelessly in her attempt to reach those straps, lunch sack hauled into her lap and she's back upright only to sit idly for a moment and just enjoy being still. It's only after several moments that she thinks to glance at his open sketchbook with silent curiosity, her main focus on undoing the coil of hair pinned at the back of her neck.
Ah, but it is not his sketchbook today, it is his notebook, and the page he's penned at the moment is entirely benign. Though it likely won't stay that way for long, as it seems to be the details of the bower of a heroine, which probably means it will soon play host to the story's hero and debauchery will surely follow. "You don't owe me any apologies," M'try answers easily, brushing his lips over the apple of Vanissa's near cheek. "I know what keeps you, and I feel sorry for you still. Do you want help with that?" It's safe to assume he means her hair, not her issues with T'kyn.
Yeah, little letters on a page are not going to keep Nissa's attention for more than a few seconds, even if he's had torrid lines already there. Her eyes are simply too tired from focusing on dropped firestone sacks and her arms are tired enough from catching them that she replies on the heels of that offer with a grateful, "Yes please!" And she turns the back of her head to him, dropping her chin so as to allow him easier access to that bun. She /needs/ to fluff it, if the way her fingertips dance over the helmet-flattened bound hair on the rest of her head before she drops her arms back to her lap. Although, T'kyn she might also want help with, for she murmurs dryly, "If ya have any bright ideas to distract that man from his work obsession? Let me know."
"I'm not sure that the distractions I can offer would be the sort to catch the eye of our fine," cough, "Weyrleader. I know little of the man, except what I've heard of him, and none of that commends him." Closing the notebook and lowering it to one side, he turns to the pinned hair with a helpless shrug that, the way Vanissa's situated, she'll never see anyway. "At least watchduty is generally none too difficult a task. You can get a little rest this afternoon," while he extricates a pin, picking gingerly at the coiled hair, taking no great pains not to brush his fingers over her neck in the process.
"Couldn't you, like, send him some reading material or something? Ya never know, right?" Since she hasn't seen that shrug of his, Nissa remains hopeful. "And ya have a point about watchduty. That's why T'kyn assigned us here. I told him I didn't think Liath could make both afternoon drills and sweeps both." While she sounds a tinge annoyed, there's also an 'oh well what can you do' sort of shrug after that and she's letting it go, or maybe distracted by the tickle of his fingertips touching the back of her neck. The shiver might give her away there.
M'try's laugh is a small thing and has him adding, "Oh, I most certainly could send him some reading material. Considering that he has a reputation for being a... fundamentalist, if you will, I'm not sure that it wouldn't have me banished from the Weyr. And I would really rather stay." The last is added with a quick, light kiss to the side of her neck before he releases the freed hair, holding pins in his palm for now so as not to burden Vanissa's hands before she has time to do the fluffing. "That may come back to haunt you at midwinter," her being assigned to watch duty, "but it's not so bad now."
Well, now, that makes Nissa reconsider, "In that case, I'd rather not jeopardize your tenure here. Though I do wish there was something he liked to do besides work everyone to death." So it's not quite a pout, but she's definitely sounding rebellious when she mutters, "I wish we could... impeach him or something." Her eyes slide closed briefly at that kiss - please T'kyn don't be looking this way right now! When her hair falls about her neck, she shifts so her back is no longer facing M'try, shakes it out, runs her fingers through it to comb it out with a relieved sort of sigh. She's thoughtful while opening that sack lunch, unwrapping a sandwich, but doesn't take a bite right away. "I'll deal with winter when it's here. I won't have her straining herself to keep up with his requirements."
If he is looking... well. Presumably, he will see no more than Mohraith and Liath cuddling, little to view of their riders in the shade next to the pair of them. Certainly, T'kyn won't have a clear view of the quick brush of M'try's fingers along Vanissa's temple, the trace of them to outline the small bones of her ear, and then his hands land back in his lap, fiddle their way to his notebook. "Furs, if I may recommend them, are among the easiest ways for dealing with winter." Quietly, in his 'feel free to ignore this comment' way; "Though I can think of better ones."
If that man doesn't have some sort of far-viewer, it would come as a real surprise to Nissa seeing the amount of control he likes. However, with fingers tracing her temple and ear, all thoughts of the irascible Weyrleader are gone - poof - from her head. Lifting her sandwich she bites while listening at the same time, amusement dances in the look directed M'try's way, her head tilts as though considering this while she chews and swallows. Finally, "Is that so? Shall I invite ya up to stand watch with me when the time comes?" Likely to freeze, because nothing short of a bonfire will help this Neratian stay warm is the sentiment writ all over her face.
"I would likely fare better than you will," M'try says as if on the verge of a brag, like hardiness to cold is some great trait. Never mind that he was born and bred just down the road from here. "Though I have a feeling I will make excuses to decline your offer, should it ever be extended. I enjoy your company, but I would rather... enjoy it some place warmer and more private." He lifts his book-wielding hand to indicate the immediate surroundings, neither warm nor private.
Vanissa couldn't argue with any of this, so she doesn't even try. She does manage to look quite impressed even. Tawny brows tick upwards while a tiny smile forms around her last mouthful of sandwich, a smile that grows after she's swallowed. "That might be entertainin’ enough to have a go at just to hear what ya come up with," she tells him. Her voice changes to mimic his, deeper even if it's nowhere near what he really sounds like, "I'm so sorry Vanissa, but I can't come up there right now because I'm taste-testing frosting for Jaeyi's cupcakes right now." It's ludicrous, but hey - it's the best she can come up with at the moment. Although at that gesture to define the place as exposed, what Nissa comprehends is, "Ohhh, ya didn't mean //keep warm// but rather //thaw out later//." She nods with exaggerated enlightenment.
M'try pretends a stuffed nose, answering, "No no, I am too sick to sit out long in the cold weather," with a false cough at the end, no more believable than her own imitation of him. Dropping the act, "Or perhaps it's as likely that I shall have to absent myself from the Weyr entirely until you are ready to be warmed, yes." In deference to her Wingleader's persistence, he makes no efforts to warm her presently, just smiles benignly.
Aren't they fortunate that it's summertime then? Though probably T'kyn is by now neck-deep in paperwork or an important meeting. Nudging his shoulder with hers, Nissa wheedles, "If ya get sick this winter, spare me some germs?" Really, because he'll be doing her a favor as it were. Twice-daily drills and sweeps in summer is a pain, but nearer to unbearable in winter. As for absenting, "That so? Where would ya go?"
After a thoughtful moment, M'try volunteers, "Perhaps the Hall of an afternoon. I should study more than I do, really." Speaking of which, he seems now likely to withdraw, following through after her nudge to slide his back along Mohraith's ribs and to his feet, laughing mildly at her request to be spared the germs. "And there really is no time like the present for such things, now that my duty here is discharged to one so capable."
Nissa's look says it all: how boooring. But she's wise enough not to say it and understanding enough to know it really wouldn't be for him. He's making to leave and she's disappointed but no protest rises to her lips. Instead she reaches for her waterskin, unstops it and salutes him casually with the cork and three fingers. "Enjoy yourself. Thanks for keepin' me company." She'd say see ya later, but these days that's just not likely so instead she just leans back on one hand to watch him go, giving Liath a mental nudge to uncurl from Mohraith there so the brown can take off.
"I hope you find some enjoyment in your occupation, Nissa," M'try offers genuinely, giving a glance toward the bowl spread out below-- at least it's a nice view. Mohraith is more reluctant to leave than his rider. Or perhaps just shows it more. He grumbles a little, making ready rather sluggishly until the brownrider is mounted, shaking his head at dragon l'amour. Then the two are off, headed first to their weyr and, as she's on watchduty and can thus notice such things, an hour or two later to the Hall.
IC Date: 8/7/23 --Belatedly stole this log from Vanissa. Dates may be off slightly.
Starstones, Fort Weyr
The Star Stones are located on a kind of stone platform on the rim of the bowl, with the time-honoured Finger Rock, Star Stone, and Eye Rock in their respective places. It's also a perfect vantage point to observe the goings on of the bowl far below. A watchdragon is generally posted here in addition to a few other choice locations along the rim of the Weyr.
Sometimes, yes, M'try and Mohraith get assigned their turn on the Star Stones, expecting relief to come along around noon. Really, they likely trade shifts often, since it makes the brown happy to sit up there and boom greetings-- << WELCOME HOME, Naylith! >> << Hi, Genmeth! >>-- so they likely weren't actually on the roster for today to start with. But the weather is fine, and the brownrider can be just as happy up here, leaning against his dragon's ribs on the shady side, shirtsleeves rolled up, the breeze toying with too-long hair, scribbling idly.
Down below in the bowl, T'kyn winds up drills with some sort of harangue, finger pointed at you-you-you and you (female riders all, Nissa being one of them), none of which look pleased to be singled out. Obsidian is dismissed, the rides disperse and Liath makes a short hop to the cavern entrance, whereupon her rider disappears into the cavern. Nissa returns several minutes later with a sack lunch and skin straps over her shoulder, climbs back aboard Liath and the pair arrive at the starstones shortly thereafter. Of course the green has noted which brown is up there, her greeting precedes her, the whisper of waves on sand, << Mohraith! Hello, are the stones warm today? I need to rest. >> She sounds tired.
<< THEY ARE! >> Mohraith delights to answer, shifting without much real warning so that M'try gets jostled and gives him a disgruntled look over his shoulder. "I see where your affections truly lie," he chides mildly, watching for the green's arrival without the necessity to close his sketchbook-- it must be benign, his afternoon's work. He returns to the writing but absently now, his eyes often going from the page to the horizon, waiting for Liath's landing with a more contained excitement than his dragon's. << Come and rest and get warm with me! >>
Liath's touchdown is accomplished with less grace and more heaviness than is her usual, jarring her rider in the process. It takes Nissa a moment of rubbing her neck with one gloved hand, rotating her head to hopefully counteract the impact, then the clink of buckles as she releases the safety straps and slides down. She gives the green a fond and comforting pat before she steps away, Liath immediately scooting over Mohraith's side to warm her chilled hide. "Hey M'tri." Nissa's greeting is somewhat subdued today, although there's a smile for him and glad-to-see-you in her eyes. "Have ya had lunch yet? I have enough for two." And those straps are shed, set on the stones so she can shuck her flight gear. That done, she lowers herself to sit beside him with a weary breath let out.
"I have not," M'try answers, thumping the dragon behind him with the ball of his fist while Mohraith scoots to try and make room for his would-be paramour. "But I intended to eat once my shift here was done, having brought up something like breakfast when we started." His eyes lift from the page entirely now, meeting Vanissa's with a smile to answer hers. "Please, eat your lunch, I'm not starving enough to take food from the weary," he adds, the levity of a jest behind the words.
Vanissa tilts M'try a puzzled look for that thump he gives Mohraith but says nothing in that regard, simply leans to offer her cheek his way while apologetically murmuring, "Sorry I haven't been around more. T'kyn..." As he likely knows if his brown communicates with Liath regularly. There's a slow smile in response to his comment, "Well now. That's good to know." She leans back, her pile of flight gear is shoved back carelessly in her attempt to reach those straps, lunch sack hauled into her lap and she's back upright only to sit idly for a moment and just enjoy being still. It's only after several moments that she thinks to glance at his open sketchbook with silent curiosity, her main focus on undoing the coil of hair pinned at the back of her neck.
Ah, but it is not his sketchbook today, it is his notebook, and the page he's penned at the moment is entirely benign. Though it likely won't stay that way for long, as it seems to be the details of the bower of a heroine, which probably means it will soon play host to the story's hero and debauchery will surely follow. "You don't owe me any apologies," M'try answers easily, brushing his lips over the apple of Vanissa's near cheek. "I know what keeps you, and I feel sorry for you still. Do you want help with that?" It's safe to assume he means her hair, not her issues with T'kyn.
Yeah, little letters on a page are not going to keep Nissa's attention for more than a few seconds, even if he's had torrid lines already there. Her eyes are simply too tired from focusing on dropped firestone sacks and her arms are tired enough from catching them that she replies on the heels of that offer with a grateful, "Yes please!" And she turns the back of her head to him, dropping her chin so as to allow him easier access to that bun. She /needs/ to fluff it, if the way her fingertips dance over the helmet-flattened bound hair on the rest of her head before she drops her arms back to her lap. Although, T'kyn she might also want help with, for she murmurs dryly, "If ya have any bright ideas to distract that man from his work obsession? Let me know."
"I'm not sure that the distractions I can offer would be the sort to catch the eye of our fine," cough, "Weyrleader. I know little of the man, except what I've heard of him, and none of that commends him." Closing the notebook and lowering it to one side, he turns to the pinned hair with a helpless shrug that, the way Vanissa's situated, she'll never see anyway. "At least watchduty is generally none too difficult a task. You can get a little rest this afternoon," while he extricates a pin, picking gingerly at the coiled hair, taking no great pains not to brush his fingers over her neck in the process.
"Couldn't you, like, send him some reading material or something? Ya never know, right?" Since she hasn't seen that shrug of his, Nissa remains hopeful. "And ya have a point about watchduty. That's why T'kyn assigned us here. I told him I didn't think Liath could make both afternoon drills and sweeps both." While she sounds a tinge annoyed, there's also an 'oh well what can you do' sort of shrug after that and she's letting it go, or maybe distracted by the tickle of his fingertips touching the back of her neck. The shiver might give her away there.
M'try's laugh is a small thing and has him adding, "Oh, I most certainly could send him some reading material. Considering that he has a reputation for being a... fundamentalist, if you will, I'm not sure that it wouldn't have me banished from the Weyr. And I would really rather stay." The last is added with a quick, light kiss to the side of her neck before he releases the freed hair, holding pins in his palm for now so as not to burden Vanissa's hands before she has time to do the fluffing. "That may come back to haunt you at midwinter," her being assigned to watch duty, "but it's not so bad now."
Well, now, that makes Nissa reconsider, "In that case, I'd rather not jeopardize your tenure here. Though I do wish there was something he liked to do besides work everyone to death." So it's not quite a pout, but she's definitely sounding rebellious when she mutters, "I wish we could... impeach him or something." Her eyes slide closed briefly at that kiss - please T'kyn don't be looking this way right now! When her hair falls about her neck, she shifts so her back is no longer facing M'try, shakes it out, runs her fingers through it to comb it out with a relieved sort of sigh. She's thoughtful while opening that sack lunch, unwrapping a sandwich, but doesn't take a bite right away. "I'll deal with winter when it's here. I won't have her straining herself to keep up with his requirements."
If he is looking... well. Presumably, he will see no more than Mohraith and Liath cuddling, little to view of their riders in the shade next to the pair of them. Certainly, T'kyn won't have a clear view of the quick brush of M'try's fingers along Vanissa's temple, the trace of them to outline the small bones of her ear, and then his hands land back in his lap, fiddle their way to his notebook. "Furs, if I may recommend them, are among the easiest ways for dealing with winter." Quietly, in his 'feel free to ignore this comment' way; "Though I can think of better ones."
If that man doesn't have some sort of far-viewer, it would come as a real surprise to Nissa seeing the amount of control he likes. However, with fingers tracing her temple and ear, all thoughts of the irascible Weyrleader are gone - poof - from her head. Lifting her sandwich she bites while listening at the same time, amusement dances in the look directed M'try's way, her head tilts as though considering this while she chews and swallows. Finally, "Is that so? Shall I invite ya up to stand watch with me when the time comes?" Likely to freeze, because nothing short of a bonfire will help this Neratian stay warm is the sentiment writ all over her face.
"I would likely fare better than you will," M'try says as if on the verge of a brag, like hardiness to cold is some great trait. Never mind that he was born and bred just down the road from here. "Though I have a feeling I will make excuses to decline your offer, should it ever be extended. I enjoy your company, but I would rather... enjoy it some place warmer and more private." He lifts his book-wielding hand to indicate the immediate surroundings, neither warm nor private.
Vanissa couldn't argue with any of this, so she doesn't even try. She does manage to look quite impressed even. Tawny brows tick upwards while a tiny smile forms around her last mouthful of sandwich, a smile that grows after she's swallowed. "That might be entertainin’ enough to have a go at just to hear what ya come up with," she tells him. Her voice changes to mimic his, deeper even if it's nowhere near what he really sounds like, "I'm so sorry Vanissa, but I can't come up there right now because I'm taste-testing frosting for Jaeyi's cupcakes right now." It's ludicrous, but hey - it's the best she can come up with at the moment. Although at that gesture to define the place as exposed, what Nissa comprehends is, "Ohhh, ya didn't mean //keep warm// but rather //thaw out later//." She nods with exaggerated enlightenment.
M'try pretends a stuffed nose, answering, "No no, I am too sick to sit out long in the cold weather," with a false cough at the end, no more believable than her own imitation of him. Dropping the act, "Or perhaps it's as likely that I shall have to absent myself from the Weyr entirely until you are ready to be warmed, yes." In deference to her Wingleader's persistence, he makes no efforts to warm her presently, just smiles benignly.
Aren't they fortunate that it's summertime then? Though probably T'kyn is by now neck-deep in paperwork or an important meeting. Nudging his shoulder with hers, Nissa wheedles, "If ya get sick this winter, spare me some germs?" Really, because he'll be doing her a favor as it were. Twice-daily drills and sweeps in summer is a pain, but nearer to unbearable in winter. As for absenting, "That so? Where would ya go?"
After a thoughtful moment, M'try volunteers, "Perhaps the Hall of an afternoon. I should study more than I do, really." Speaking of which, he seems now likely to withdraw, following through after her nudge to slide his back along Mohraith's ribs and to his feet, laughing mildly at her request to be spared the germs. "And there really is no time like the present for such things, now that my duty here is discharged to one so capable."
Nissa's look says it all: how boooring. But she's wise enough not to say it and understanding enough to know it really wouldn't be for him. He's making to leave and she's disappointed but no protest rises to her lips. Instead she reaches for her waterskin, unstops it and salutes him casually with the cork and three fingers. "Enjoy yourself. Thanks for keepin' me company." She'd say see ya later, but these days that's just not likely so instead she just leans back on one hand to watch him go, giving Liath a mental nudge to uncurl from Mohraith there so the brown can take off.
"I hope you find some enjoyment in your occupation, Nissa," M'try offers genuinely, giving a glance toward the bowl spread out below-- at least it's a nice view. Mohraith is more reluctant to leave than his rider. Or perhaps just shows it more. He grumbles a little, making ready rather sluggishly until the brownrider is mounted, shaking his head at dragon l'amour. Then the two are off, headed first to their weyr and, as she's on watchduty and can thus notice such things, an hour or two later to the Hall.