[Log] Dither: It's What I Do!
Who: Claret, Lekzanne, R'dur
When: Day 1, Month 6, Turn 8
Where: Central Bowl, Telgar Weyr
What: R'dur reassures Lekzanne, then sticks his foot in his mouth with Claret.
Central Bowl
A stony field is the center of this great caldera, the size of which is unmatched at any other Weyr--for the whole complement of all the wings at Telgar could rest comfortably within its towering cliffs. Shaped in a perfect oval, the rock walls seem ideal for keeping the usual chill winds stirring about. The ground is mostly made of pebbles and rocks, some hued the milky shades of old quartz, though there are patches where softer dirt and even trees sprout up from the ground. To the south, the bowl opens onto the living caverns and the Weyrleaders' quarters; the immense entrance to the Hatching Grounds lies to the northwest. Heading southwest will lead one back out into the rocky mountain ranges around Telgar's protective walls. Dragons may be seen, relaxing or fresh from feeding, to the north, as well as the soft lapping sounds of Telgar's lake touching the sandy shore. The Weyrling Barracks, always aflutter with activity, are to the direct west. If you're looking for the 'dutypair' to take you to an outweyr destination, they can be found here. Fall leaves cling around the edges of the bowl, and the trees near the lake are bedecked with bronze and red splendor.
Contents:
DRAGONS: Keshketh
PLAYERS: R'dur Lekzanne
Obvious Exits:
Weyrling Barracks Southern Bowl Lake Shore Hatching Cavern Feeding Grounds Runner Pasture Weyr Entrance
Lekzanne
Clear grey eyes stare intently out, surrounded by dark lashes. Light brown eyebrows arch delicatly, clearly visible below her forehead. Her silvery-blonde hair is obvious well cared for, as there are few split-ends or breaks, rather remarkable considering how fine the texture is. It hangs to her waist. Age has added height, and as a woman, she stands a respectable five inches above five feet. A figured toned from a life of riding, she also sports curves in all the right places.
A form-fitting, though casual looking blue tunic hugs Lekzanne's curves in all the right places. A sapphire blue in color, the deep V neckline adds to the length of her body, as well as the swell of her chest. The tunic flows right down to her thighs. A pair of form-hugging pants follow after, the cream-colored wherhide snug against her legs. She wears a pair of dark brown boots which rise to mid thigh and accent her well. Her hair is left loose, the straight blonde hair left to hang to her waist.
She wears the knot of Telgar Weyr, a strand of brown representing her lifemate.
A ring hangs from a chain around her neck.
Lekzanne is 29 Turns, 8 months, and 14 days old.
Keshketh is lounging near the entrance to the Weyrling barracks, Lekzanne perched on his forarm. The brown looks rather smug, and cheerful; his head is cant to one side, and his eyes whirl a fast blue-green. Lekzanne, however, looks downright dangerous. She's quickly flipping through a stack of hides, muttering things. Whenever she gets to something she doesn't like, it's violently tossed over her shoulder and into the hollow made by Keshketh's folded paws.
Some distance off, R'dur stands with Alidaeth, the brown's nose digging into his back as he pushes his rider bodily toward the weyrling barracks. R'dur's strength is no match for the dragon's, and he leaves faint drag marks in his wake as he stumbles and slides closer to the irascible Lekzanne. "No, Alidaeth--I don't--please--we can't--she won't--" he begs helplessly. When they're finally only a couple of yards from the pair outside the barracks, Alidaeth gives R'dur one last sharp shove forward and then curls up behind him, eyes peeking out from behind the man while R'dur finds his voice. "Um. Um. Excuse me? Ma'am?"
Keshketh gives a throaty, hearty greeting towards Alidaeth. Lekzanne glances up, over her hidework much like a teacher might (all she's missing are the glasses). She clears her throat, ruffles her hides, and slides down from Keshketh's leg. "Yes?" she asks, her voice steady. There's a twitch to her eyebrow, though, and she quickly adds, "Don't call me ma'am," softly.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," R'dur answers at once, humbly, earning a decidedly amused rumble from his brown. R'dur takes a step back but can retreat no further, finding the brown's nose keeping him in place helpfully. "I didn't mean--I don't mean--I'm sorry if I'm bothering you? I just... Well. I was hoping that, um. Some of the weyrlings might be about--Alidaeth and I were hoping to see them, you see, and... Well." Pause. "Can I help you with anything, ma'am?" Unable to find other words, R'dur settles for those, and a vague sort of gesture to her hidework.
Lekzanne peers down towards her hides, grumbles, and proceeds to forget they're in her hands. "I think they're all asleep," she remarks, unsure of herself. Keshketh rumbles darkly, the blonde winces, and then replies with more confidence, "Yea, Keshketh says they're all asleep. Those first few days are draining." It's her explanation. She peers towards the gaping door of the barracks with dark eyes, as if loath to go near it. "The hidework is mostly logs from old Weyrlingmasters. I'm supposed to flip through them so that I can appear to know something before teaching them." It's all said rather dryly, with scowls and growls peppered throughout. "Stick around, though. I'm sure someone's bound to wake up and /want/ me for something or other."
R'dur glances at the entrance then, nodding. "Yes, ma'am," he agrees, relaxing slightly, even managing a tiny smile for the other brownrider. "I understand. I remember what it was like myself. Especially considering how Alidaeth was when he was /awake/. Much like he still is when he's awake," notes the man, casting a wry glance backward at his prodding dragon. Alidaeth has a classically 'who, me?' look on his face as he stares back. R'dur, turning back to Lekzanne, adds, "I... I see. I thought someone had mentioned you were going to be assisting Weyrlingmaster Breena this time. Congratulations."
Lekzanne grunts, looking not at all excited about her new position. "Well, that someone was correct. I'm an Assistant Weyrlingmaster for this clutch. I suppose they just stuck it on me because the Wings are scared I'll get sick again." That's her theory, anyways. Keshketh, though, bugles triumphantly, and looks smug once more. "Kesh was a handful then. He's mostly calm, now, but..." and the brown gets a dirty look, which he ignores. "Why are you so interested in them? They're kinda... scary if you ask me."
R'dur hesitates, biting his lower lip again. To her first complaints, he has no reply; a shrug serves as half of one to her question. He shifts his weight before he answers. "I... Well, Alidaeth likes the young dragons, and I--I knew them before--when I was the coordinator--and they're--I just thought... Well. They're no scarier than anyone else, I don't suppose," he confesses after a moment, blushing slightly.
Lekzanne blinks, looking blankly for a moment. "Ah, no, I meant the dragonets were scary. The human half are fine," she clarifies. Even her sour expression softens somewhat, and she twitches her lip in a semblance of a smile. "I forgot you were coordinator. I've been so caught up in this new rank of mine," and she growls again for a moment. "You're welcome to come visit them when they're awake, so long as they're not supposed to be in class." She can sympathize, it seems. "How's it feel to be relieved of that responcibility, anyways?"
"I think," R'dur admits shyly, "it still holds true. They seemed... nice, front what I saw of them at the hatching." A shrug; he continues to fidget and finally settles himself on the ground alongside his dragon. "It's... Well, I--I never thought I'd say this--and please don't tell the Weyrleader and the Weyrwoman, or they'll want to make me do it next time, too--but I actually kind of miss it. It was a way to keep busy and to--well, to help, really, and they were all... they were mostly good. Suddenly I've got so much more free time I don't know what to do with myself. Brijana's happy, though--she thought they were taking up too much of my time," he admits wryly, shaking his head at his weyrmate.
Lekzanne does manage a grin, wry as it is. "Well. Weyrmates must be placated first, I suppose. Probably why I don't have one." She brushes something from her shoulder, and leans back against Keshketh, happily using his bulk. Her nose wrinkles up in a not entirely unpleasant manner, and she replies, "While they're little, they're scary. At least to me. I suppose it's the Holder in me. I still seem them as wobbly, dangerous creatures that'll gauge anyone in their path, mated or not."
Avrieth backwings for a landing.
Avrieth has arrived.
Claret slithers down from her perch on Avrieth's neck.
Claret has arrived.
Claret
Claret has the form of a young woman in her mid-twenties. She stands about three inches under six feet, with long slender limbs that fold gracefully when she sits, an effect that is quite at odds with her habit of hastily and unceremoniously arranging her form in whatever awkward position seems most expedient. Her fingers have the slim dexterity of one accustomed to precise handwork and her muscles are toned from active lifestyle and employment. Yet her movement manages never to be quite fluid, frequently enough taking a roundabout path into large objects when she simply cannot spare the attention to watch where she's going. Lightly waved hair so dark brown as to be almost black falls in thick abundance down her back when loose, framing a face of naturally tanned skin and mercurial black eyes.
Claret is dressed in a well-worn tunic of a light golden brown. Breeches and shirt of a darker, dry earth toned brown are worn underneath the tunic, with a brown belt to secure the ensemble. A handy pouch hangs from the belt and sturdy brown boots encase her feet. Her hair is braided back simply and knotted at the base of her neck, and a greenriders knot of black, white, and green is pinned to her shoulder, accompanied by an Icewind patch.
R'dur glances between Keshketh and Alidaeth a moment, nodding slowly. "I... I understand. I worried all the time about Alidaeth hurting himself or me or someone else when he was young, but we were fortunate. He's got a very good sense of where his limbs are going," the rider says, a hint of pride in his voice. "Some of them, though... I remember one blue in our class--the poor thing was always getting himself into some situation because he was just... uncoordinated." He shrugs after a moment, then adds reassuringly, "I'm sure you'll manage fine, though. They'll be out of that stage soon, most of them."
Lekzanne repositions herself, wiggling so that she finally manages to resume her sitting position on Keshketh's leg. She gives another glance to the Weyrling Barracks which loom oh-so-close to her, and sighs. "I know. I'm just not entirely sure why they picked ME for this job. I'm not exactly good with children..." She wrinkles her nose again, and settles against her brown. "Maybe I'm just scared I'll mess up. After the little stuff, it's Flying, Flaming, and then Between! What if I lose one? What if someone gets hurt because I gave them the wrong command?" Ah. There in lies the root to Lekze's anger.
R'dur recoils slightly, blue eyes widening as he stares at Lekzanne in turn. With his fingers finding the hem of his shirt, he glances downward, toying idly with the fabric before he replies quietly, "I--I don't know. I... I worry about that every day, when we do drills or when, well. When anyone goes /between/ or anything like that. I was--I /am/--terrified, really, of being a wingsecond. But I... But you have to just--to just do what you can, your best, and make sure everyone else does, too. That's all we can do." R'dur, giving advice? Something is wrong with this picture.
Avrieth lands on the bowl floor with typical care, tidy and circumspect in her movement, and Claret slides down her side with a typical thump, careless and graceless in her own movement. Nevertheless, she's got a cheery enough smile to offer when she notes Lekzanne and R'dur nearby, and she heads towards them with a wave, Avrieth following a little ways behind. As she nears, close enough to overhear a few of her words, her brows knit, for the conversation doesn't seem to be lighthearted or easy.
Keshketh rumbles a throaty greeting towards Avrieth. He's feeling rather smug, and arches his neck to display the strength of muscles throughout. He's not above a little flirting at the moment, it seems. Lekzanne just glares towards him. "Yea, you would be in a good mood, you great brute." She sighs a bite, and flicks a strand of hair from her eyes. "True, I suppose. But.. I've never done this before. Never led a Wing, never was 'Second... this is my first time in command of anything. And they're babies!" Claret is given a mild wave of a greeting, though Lekze looks mostly grumpy.
At Keshketh's greeting of Avrieth, R'dur glances around quickly, the movement mimicked by Alidaeth. The man offers the green and her rider a brief-lived smile; the dragon, not to be outdone by the elder brown, croons an adoring note. R'dur shakes his head at his brown and then glances askance at Lekzanne again. "I--I understand," he agrees meekly. "I hadn't, either, when T'bay insisted on giving me my knot. And I don't do much more than hidework for him, if I can help it--being in charge of the candidates was the first time I had done anything of that sort, especially on my own. But--but you'll have time to get used to them yourself, while they grow up some, before you get to the really dangerous things," R'dur tells the woman encouragingly.
Avrieth offers a high-pitched rumble of her own by way of greeting for the other dragons, and though she is not particularly flirtatious, she is not above a carefully planned stretch before she settles in a recline on the bowl floor. "Whose babies?" She looks from side to side, catching on pieces of the conversation. "Oh, those babies?" It's only when her glance lands on the barracks that she seems to remember there's a new lot of weyrlings in there. "Yeah, only think," she tacks on, getting the gist of R'dur's words. "You'll be spending so much time with them, you'll get really used to it after only a little. I would imagine. Not that I've ever done it. And hullo."
Lekzanne blows another breath from her thin lips. "Well, yea, I suppose your right. And at least it's Breena who's the real leader. I just get to follow her orders, and tell them to do things better. I suppose it's not bad. I get to order them around, right?" Now she's just teasing. "And hello back," is her reply to Claret, though she doesn't look encouraged by the idea of practically living with the Weyrlings. "I hope I get used to it. And I hope it goes quickly without incident, as it is, I'm constantly..." but her sentence stops at a rumble from Keshketh. "Perfect example. One of the little ones has his foot caught in something... I have to go." And then she's gone, disappeared into the dark recesses of the Weyrling barracks.
Lekzanne has left.
Keshketh has left.
"Good luck," R'dur wishes Lekzanne wryly, shaking his head as he watches her depart into the barracks. Then, he glances around to Claret, offering the greenrider a warmer smile. "Good evening, Claret. How are you and Avrieth? I was just talking to Lekzanne about... Well, you caught that, I guess," he realizes, ducking his head. "I hope she manages all right now," adds the man, nervously. "I'd hate for her not to, after I said all that." Grimace.
Claret echoes the luck that R'dur wishes Lekzanne with a few bobs of her head, and gives her farewell by wiggling a few fingers. "Evening, evening. We're super, like always. Or almost always. Well, actually, she's a bit tetchy but that's not unusual. So we're good. How about you and Alidaeth?" She ends this stream of words with another bob of her head, this time of agreement. "Well, I bet, since Breena's been doing this for a while, she'll help out if there's anything even like a problem. Maybe it's good to be worried because then you're more careful? So. You don't much like being Wingsecond?"
R'dur glances at Avrieth warily as Claret comments on her, studying the dragon several seconds before he turns back to her rider. "We're well, the both of us, thank you," he answers the woman politely. "I... Well, I'm--I didn't at first," is his admission in regard to that question. "But I think I'm... Well, I accept it now, anyway. It's still not something that I'm really /comfortable/ doing, but it's my duty. Do you... do you like being a wingleader?"
"You're stammering again," Claret informs the brownrider kindly. Or perhaps not so kindly. "I didn't mean to make you nervous or anything. I shan't go telling T'bay. And Av only takes out her moods on me." She offers up something akin to a comforting smile, though it resembles her normal cheery smile as much as anything. "Ugh, no. I mean, I didn't at first. I was -shocked-. Can you imagine? Me? 'Course I'm all right in drills and whatnot, but outside of duties I'm the most scattered ever. I was scared to death I'd do something wrong. Still am. Plenty often I feel like I'm not doing as well as someone else could in my place."
"I'm sorry," apologizes R'dur at once, blushing. "But. You--you /seem/ like you do okay. From what I see, at least. You know, not being in your wing, actually. T'bay does all right, I think, and, well." He grimaces, breaking off whatever uncomplimentary things he was about to say about his wingleader and Claret's weyrmate. Instead, he notes helpfully, "I'm sure the Weyrleader knew what he was doing when he knotted you, anyway."
Claret shrugs up her shoulders carelessly. "Sure. I haven't heard too many complaints and I'm a sight more focused when it comes to duty, so I try not to fret about it. But you can be sure, the thought that the Weyrleader knew what he was doing was the only thing that prompted me to accept that knot." Her brows knit as a grimace follows his remark about T'bay, and she presses. "He what? If it's something dreadful, I can tell him. I mean, I wouldn't tell him it was you who said it, but don't you think it'd be helpful to know?"
R'dur manages a slight smile at that, nodding. "Myself as well. Actually, well. I just couldn't tell T'bay no, really," he admits after a moment, wrinkling his nose. "But I think, overall, we've done well together. At least he hasn't made as many, um, comments about Bri since then." Blush. Quickly, he adds, "Oh, no. It's--it's nothing. Really. I just... didn't expect to see him made a wingleader, either. Not that he's not a good one, but still."
Claret shakes her head as she makes a regretful, if interested, observation. "You're all in a dither this evening. I'm sure it can't be good for you." Her hand lifts, and she starts tugging on her ear, forehead wrinkled. "Gosh. Well, isn't it fun to get surprises? I mean, there are some surprises that aren't all that exciting at first, but with a will they can be grand. How..." She starts a question, but then stops, a rare moment of consideration stalling her words.
"I dither," states R'dur blandly. "It's what I do. As for surprises... Well. I'm not very fond of them, actually." He shrugs, glancing downward; though at her abortive question he knits his brows and fixes the greenrider with a look that mixes wariness with curiousity. "How what?" he asks after a moment.
"Gosh," Claret repeats, regarding R'dur with some pity. "You must get kind of miserable sometimes, mustn't you? Although I suppose most people do." Her features wrinkle as she pulls a face, and she finishes her question. "Well, I was going to ask how come you wouldn't have expected T'bay to be named wingleader, but then I guess that wouldn't be fair and I expect I know an answer to that question anyway. So I didn't."
"Oh. Oh," says R'dur, blushing and glancing downward again. "That's--well. Um. Thank you, for not asking," he decides after a moment. Wincing: "Not that I--you understand, of course--I simply--oh, never mind. I can't explain. I'm sorry. I should--I should go. I... I promised Alidaeth a bath." Pause. "Yes, I did," he hisses sideways at the brown, while trying to smile still at Claret. "Um. I'll see you later. Give T'bay my regards." And with that, he flees the awkward conversation, leaving Alidaeth to rumble with laughter behind him.