[Log] Precision
Who: Daja, I'neph, Sh'van
When: Day 10, Month 12, Turn 442
Where: Living Cavern, Fort Weyr
What: I'neph tells the truth, and Sh'van still gets upset.
Living Cavern
Huge, still mostly the natural shape of the bubble cavern that formed it though embellished with intricate columns, the living cavern is large enough to seat over two thousand people at any given time. But it has fallen into a state of disuse, for the most part. There are long gaps in the room where tables must have been at one time: Now, there are only twenty tables - each with space for twenty-five people - left in the room, where once there must have been closer to eighty tables. They are all gathered near the northeastern wall where the largest of the room's four hearths are. The rest of the space seems bare. There are a few smaller tables to seat five or six people scattered randomly throughout. Though there is easily room for twice as many, and still many bare swathes of wall that should boast tapestries, there are only three hangings in the living cavern, and all of them are small given the grand scale of the cavern: Two are Fortian brown with the black "Fort" symbol on them, and the third is a light brown field with a brownish-bronzish wing breaking out of the shell of a single white egg. Up a set of handsomely carved stone steps is the Weyr's large kitchen, wrapping around balcony-style with a view into the cavern.
Dinner is being served and the cavern is at its busiest. It's evening in the autumn. The fire is kept low in the hearth to keep out any lingering chill.
Players:
I'neph.........6', athletic; olive skin, dark brown eyes & hair; early 20s.
Sh'van.........Almost 6', lean. Pale blue eyes & scarred. Impeccably groomed.
Daja...........Slim 5'8". Black hair, sienna eyes, olive complexion.
Exits:
Bowl..........................[W] Inner Caverns.................[S]
Kitchen.......................[E]
Sh'van says "But of course." He pushes back his chair, standing from the small table he and Daja have claimed as their own. "It is never a problem speaking to my wingmates. My regards to Nirgalith."
Daja shadows Sh'van as she pushes to her own feet, smiling easier as she reaches back to claim her jacket. "And mine to Lanmith," the brownrider returns, folding the jacket over her arm so she can lift a salute. "Take care, sir," she bids in parting, bobbing her head slightly before turning to make her way out through the cavern.
Ambling into the living cavern, I'neph heads toward the serving tables to fill himself a plate and then turns, scanning the room quickly. Finally, noting Sh'van and Daja by virtue of their standing, he saunters that way once Daja's already left. "Evening," is his greeting, a salute added to the word as he pauses near the weyrsecond.
Daja heads to the bowl.
Daja has left.
Sh'van ruefully watches Daja go, his attention there so that he doesn't notice I'neph's arrival until the other bronzerider speaks. "Weyrling." Well, it's a greeting of sorts. "Have a seat," he adds, doing likewise and regathering his mug to his chest. His left hand moves awkwardly as he tries to keep his thumb protected. "You've cut your hair." That's decidedly approving.
Sh'van is looking at you.
I'neph, setting his plate on the table, takes a moment to run a hand over the close-cropped fuzz that remains on his head before seating. "Oh, that. Yes, sir," he agrees easily then. "I've just been so busy lately I never noticed how long it was getting until the Weyrleader mentioned it to me. J'tei was nice enough to trim it up for me when we had some free time, along with those self-defense lessons, you know?" It's almost like it was /his/ idea now.
"I'm surprised the Weyrlingmaster hadn't spoken to you already about it," Sh'van says with a twitch of a smile. "J'tei, hmm? An unusual skill in a bronzerider. How is Dioscuth? Are you both well?"
"The Weyrlingmaster has many more important things to worry about, I'm sure," answers I'neph with a grin, picking at his food. "Dioscuth's good, I'm good. J'tei, though. Well, it was, uh. Just a rush job, admittedly, before we started practicing and stuff--you know, get the length off of it," he adds with a decisive nod. "I had to get somebody else to shape it up a little for me."
Sh'van's heavy riding jacket is still on, only unfastened in the front. His shoulders are dry, though, suggesting that either he came inside before the rain or else has been here long enough for evaporation to take hold. He echoes, "Practicing and stuff," as though unsure if he wants to ask for details.
"You know, self-defense," clarifies I'neph as he eats, glancing up at the weyrsecond. "Didn't X'drian tell you about that? He asked J'tei about teaching them to all of us one night. Especially the girls, though if you ask me, he waited a little late on that one," he notes, frowning briefly.
Sh'van says "Ah, yes," at the first, shaking his head at himself as the shoe drops. Then J'tei mentions the girls and Sh'van's face... it doesn't freeze, but it goes decidedly hard, eyebrows narrowing and jaw dropping for a moment. The moment passes before the man's composure returns, leaving him distant. "When did he ask you to begin?"
I'neph thinks back on this moment before shrugging. "Let's see. It was... Oh, shards. A month ago now? Something like that. Been a while. He's been working with some of the younger ones for a little while," he says blithely, though he certainly notes the change in Sh'van's expression. Offhand, he adds, "I don't think he's real enthusiastic about the girls, though. Don't know that he's even started on them yet."
Sh'van tries a nice bland, "Mnh," finds it dry even for his own tastes, and has some klah to wash it down. "Who does he have teaching you?"
"Oh, he's doing it all himself, why?" asks I'neph, brows arching. "In his free time. I might help him some, actually, if he looks like he needs it, but he's doing okay right now. We've got to get some wooden knives before the two of us pick up again--he's only got stone ones now, and he's worried I'll hurt him too bad with this." Which is true, mostly.
Sh'van echoes, still disbelieving, "The Weyrleader is afraid /you/ will hurt /him/?" It's clear that Van's patience has run out with I'neph's embellishments, for he stands abruptly, taking his klah mug with him. "You're to tell the Weyrleader what you've just told me, I'neph -- no adding, no leaving things out to make yourself look like less of a fool. I have other things to deal with."
"No, no--J'tei is," corrects I'neph at once, cocking his head as he peers up at Sh'van. "I didn't say Weyrleader, did I? That wasn't what I meant, anyway. He was just the one that decided to make /J'tei/ do it all." He shrugs, adds, "But I can still explain to the Weyrleader, I guess, if you really want me to?"
"You didn't say," Sh'van says tightly, "that J'tei was your teacher. You said that X'drian had started you on self-defense lessons and that he was teaching you himself." Not that learning that J'tei is the one waving knives around the girls seems to make Van much happier. "You are still a fool. Precision is a necessity in a bronzerider, weyrling. Or will you try and fix a bungled drill by claiming that you were misunderstood?"
"If it works...?" says I'neph, with a decidedly innocent expression. But, lest Sh'van get on him about that as well, he hastily amends, "No, not really. Just joking, sir. I mean, I understand what you mean--the point and everything--just, I thought you knew I was talking about J'tei the whole time. Not X'drian. S'all my fault, really--should've made sure we were on the same page there, sir."
Sh'van unbends enough to accept the apology with a nod, though it's still stiff. "Precision," he says again. "No one else is Dioscuth, to know what you meant rather than what you've said. I'll leave you to your meal -- and no, you needn't report to the Weyrleader." With that he turns and heads for the bowl, the mug carried unthinkingly with him.
"Yes, sir," agrees I'neph easily, nodding. "I'll work on that for you. Good evening--regards to Lanmith." He waits until Sh'van is gone to snicker at the weyrsecond's expense and continue his meal.