[Log] Of Appearances
Who: E'tyn, R'dur
When: Day 1, Month 6, Turn 9
Where: Workroom, Telgar Weyr
What: E'tyn wants to see R'dur again about another knot upgrade.
Dragon> Low, velvet rumbles and gentle in his mental extension, a warm infusion of burnished gold with swirls of deep crimson reach out towards Alidaeth. << If yours has a moment, I believe E'tyn would like to speak with him. >> If the tone of Niereth's statement is anything to go by, the way it's suggested on the sly, it isn't a summons as much as a relay of a passing thought from his rider, a desire that the bronzerider might never actually act on. In a flash, an image is shared of the work room and the hunched figure of a ploddingly working young man.
Telgar's Workroom
Telgar's workroom is usually aflutter with activity. When the skies are clear of Thread and the main caverns taken care of, many of the residents gather here to work on hobbies and projects of one sort or another. Leather strips hang neatly on pegs along the northern wall, while varying hues of threads in an array of widths dangle beside them. Thin strips of wood are gathered into baskets that line the wall beneath the pegs and, one would assume, are used in making other baskets. The eastern wall boasts a long, if narrow wooden table. Materials and hides litter its top which are likely works in progress left by owners for the now. A small hearth and nearby table complete the room as they occur by the southern-most stone wall. Mugs, cups and small plates claim the table as home while there always seems to be something brewing over the heat. Glowbaskets are scattered about the cavern for use by whomever needs them. They manage to add a warm glow that tends to pervade those who enter here.
Contents:
E'tyn
Obvious exits:
Bowl
The work room, as with many caverns in the Weyr this time of day, is a bustle of work, with people drifting in and out. Midst this, E'tyn's claimed an inconspicuous spot for himself, a corner out of the way and a spot of a long work tale where two rectangles and a plethora of wooden cylinders rest in front of him. At hand are tools for his trade, as well as what appears to be a brightly painted child's mallet. But instead of working, the tiny knife the Weyrleader uses is held lax in his hand, and a look of utter consternation twists his expression.
Into this R'dur barges, looking a little rumpled, as though he hurriedly dressed or something. He's a little flushed from a quick trip down, too, but he hurries through the crowd, ducking past people with many mumbles excuse-me's until he finds E'tyn. "Weyrleader," he greets E'tyn at last, stopping by him and looking relieved. "What happened, what is it? Alidaeth said it was urgent?" A hint of confusion creeps into his own expression then, as he looks briefly over the man's work.
When R'dur speaks, thus announcing his arrival, E'tyn's head hangs just a bit lower. Though his expression is masked from the brownrider, the bronzerider's body language is clear: embarrassment dropping his head coupled with tangible irritation tensing his shoulders. Low and pained beneath his breath, one word is heard, resigned: "Niereth," after which the lanky body begins to unbend and with a slight tilt of his head, a small smile is barely cast towards the wingleader. "It was-... It's nothing urgent, sir. Truly. I don't know what Niereth might have told Alidaeth, and what he conveyed, but nothing truly. Nothing really urgent." His smile fixes more solidly into place, still pained about the edges, and the motion of whittling out a tiny hole along one of the rectangle planks resumes. "I'm learning quick, never to share a thought with that dragon of mine."
R'dur looks sheepish himself, looking downward, ruffling the back of his hair. "Oh. Alidaeth said... I'm sure it was his fault," the wingleader admits, nose wrinkling. Pause. "Especially because he's snickering at me now. I'm sorry. He thinks saying things like that is amusing. But... I /am/ here now, so--what did you need?"
"I didn't /need/ anything," E'tyn returns, though from the continued thread of frustration, it doesn't seem to be a reply directed solely at R'dur. Only a second passes before he's looking up apologetically at the brownrider, "I mean, that was... That wasn't meant for you. I had meant to ask you to lunch today. There were a few things I had wanted to discuss with you in regards to Thunderbolt, but it didn't require your immediate attention. Not yet, 'least." The hole continues to be shaped until the knife is set down and one of the pegs is inserted deftly into the space made. "Mmmm. Coat rack," he explains. "I've too many visitors lately and I've never been much for one of those stand alone pole things. Rider jackets are too heavy."
"Oh," says R'dur simply, shifting his weight as he studies E'tyn. Finally, he snags his own chair and settles down in it across from the bronzerider. "I see. Well, what... what did you want to discuss?" he asks after a moment, frowning slightly. "Am I not--are they doing badly? Someone's complained, haven't they--they don't like me, do they?" Always assuming the worst, R'dur looks pained.
"No, no..." And that's enough for E'tyn to lay down his tools, his work, though the look he shoots the table is one of reluctant relinquishing. He takes a step back his hip finding his long forgotten stool and tries to scoot himself up onto it. A hand quickly rakes through his blonde hair, pushing the shag back behind his ear, and with a steady set in his expression and tone, he queries. "I had wondered if the work in Thunderbolt was overwhelming for you. I'd heard of your weyrmate's, ah, condition," and really who hasn't, "And wanted to see if things were well. No one's complained," the Weyrleader is quick to assert, a half-smile suddenly finding his lips, "And no one's said you're not doin' your work, sir. Just, I thought I should, well Ailani said it might be best if I make sure my wingleaders are doing ok."
"Condition." Even R'dur has to grin at that--that bright, proud grin he gets whenever someone mentions Brijana or his children. "Yes. She's well, really well--only a couple more months until she has the baby. We're so excited--she really wants a girl, and I have Ysalia already (she's four and a half, did you know?) so I'd almost like a boy but if she wants a girl then so do I and I'm just so excited--only about three months more," he gushes. So much for the real question.
Clearly, this was a can of worms that E'tyn should have avoided, the sudden onslaught of baby news from a proud papa not what he was expecting and writ all over his face in initial befuddlement. Still, the young man listens quietly, and after a heartbeat for R'dur's sudden gush of words to sink in, low laughter, similar to the rumble of his lifemate, expels from the bronzerider's throat. "Congratulations. I'll hope for a boy for you then, R'dur. Really. I... I guess that means you and Thunderbolt are doing well and the new baby won't be any problem for you either?"
R'dur has the grace to look moderately embarrassed at E'tyn's expression, his laughter. "Um. I'm... sorry. You... probably didn't--" He blushes. "I'm sorry. But, um. Thunderbolt. Oh, right. We're--we're good. I don't anticipate any problems, not at all. We'll manage. I mean, it will take some adjusting, but--we'll manage."
"I never got to really thank ya," E'tyn begins promptly after R'dur's spoken, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere and not immediately aware of the brownrider's response. "For lettin' me watch your drills that sevenday. I don't think Icewind's quite used to me yet, especially after th'Weyrle-, K'ran," his correction is quick, as if he's used to it, "And how crisply he lead them." The blossom of his half-smile reaches higher points as a twinkle flitters into his bovinish gaze. "We appreciate all the help you've been, R'dur."
Shy, embarrassed by the praise, R'dur ducks his head. "I'm... you're... You're welcome," he finally settles on, blushing brighter. "Im just--I'm just glad I could help. I mean, I know--it's not something--it's hard to get used to, but... For--for what it's worth, I think you're doing well so far, and I'm glad to help, however I can."
"Good. Good." He's pleased, as pleased as R'dur's blush is bright for the praise, and while tellingly, his look to the brownrider seems a touch sharper, discerning, he doesn't accompany the study with more words. E'tyn, lips pursed thoughtfully, scoots off his stool and steps again to his portion of the work table. "I like hidin' here sometimes," comes his confession, low spoken so no one but R'dur could overhear. "If I don't wear my knot and keep my head low, some times, most o' the time, people forget who I am."
"I guess... you don't look like a Weyrleader," notes R'dur. Then, eyes widening, he hastens to pull foot from mouth. "Not that you don't, or you're /bad/ at it, just... You're... young. And--you just--you're not--K'ran was... I'm sorry." Definitely blushing. Apologetically, he adds, "People don't think I'm a wingleader, either?"
"I...," what E'tyn means to say is cut short by R'dur's appraisal of his looks. He doesn't look hurt, no, quite the opposite, as a broad grin quickly climbs the clefts of his face. "I like that. Just any old rider, it's nice sometimes. I hope people might talk to me more if they don't think I'm really like a Weyrleader, y'know? Comfortable or something. My da and ma... they're like that with their students." A hand steals out to caress the handle of the child's mallet with his thumb. This movement, pensive, is soon followed by a question, idle and cautiously said: "Would people think of you as a Weyrsecond, y'think?"
"That's... That sounds nice," R'dur notes on the style of Weyrleader E'tyn would like to be. "It sounds nice. I don't... I don't really know many people in those sorts of positions, and perhaps it's just me, but it doesn't seem like any of them are like... that." He trails off at the latter question, brows knitting. "I don't think so," he admits in some amount of confusion. "I mean, Yselle was, for so long, and the Weyrleader V'lano, too, and even though they're both... Wait. /What/?"
E'tyn grips the mallet, his thumb caressing sliding up further until his fingers can wind about the handle. The weight of this is tested in his hand with a light shake, and then the head itself is rapped gently against the table's edge, interspersed in soft thuds between R'dur's words: enough to be a presence, but not anywhere near loud enough to be jarring. "Yselle," he notes, the tenor wry pitched as he recalls the greenrider, "Never seemed to act like what the stories say Weyrseconds are like. Or Weyrleaders. She seemed approachable. You don't think?" The Thunderbolt wingleader's latter confusion is passed over, again as if E'tyn hasn't heard.
"Too approachable," is R'dur's wry caveat. "She was... She was a very good Weyrsecond. I was very sorry to hear she stepped down, but with the children and everything..." He shrugs, not looking right at E'tyn.
"And I think you would make a good Weyrsecond to me," E'tyn asserts, his tenor gentle, his naive eyes kind. "I think so. Ailani agrees." The Weyrwoman's approval, as always, is important to the bronzerider, and the last is added in reassurance for not only the brownrider, but himself as well.
R'dur bites his lower lip a moment, chewing it thoughtfully before he finally looks up at E'tyn. He nods once, barely, and concedes, "If you'll have me, then. But... What about Thunderbolt?"
The mallet in his hand is clutched a fraction tighter, brought to his chest to ward off what might come in the form of disagreements. Soon, the head is brought to his chin, a prop to rest on, and in lieu of fingers, an object to rub idly at his clean shaven jaw. "I don't think the wings need more turmoil, or change so soon. I'd like you t'stay as Thunderbolt wingleader and drill with them instead of Icewind for now, and maybe we'll be able to transition a change there sometime." Apology cuts across E'tyn's pensive features, a hesitant half-smile reappearing. "If y'don't mind, that is."
R'dur nods quickly in answer to E'tyn, offering a small smile to him. "I understand, of course. I think--you're right, of course. It'd be better for them to have someone steady right now, rather than changing on them again when I've only just managed to settle in now."
"Satisfied now?" Again, low words, these obviously not for R'dur as the young man's eyes roll back, and the light shake of his head accompanies mock derision of his dragon. "Wingleader. Weyrsecond. I... I guess, for now, I'd like you to work with Thunderbolt," already said, but reconfirmed as E'tyn returns his attention from his 'encouraging' dragon to the brownrider before him. "For now, 'n maybe meet with me officially once a week to discuss, ah, Weyrly things." So vague, especially accompanied by a wave of his mallet.
"Weyrly... things," R'dur repeats, unable to entirely stifle his bemused smile. "We'll do that. I... Well. Thank you, sir. I'm--I really am honored that you'd... Well. Thank you."
"I'll... ah, I'll get you your knot later." Looking markedly relieved, E'tyn turns slightly from R'dur to eye his work. "And maybe we can still share dinner tonight and talk some more."
R'dur nods again, breaking into a larger smile. "All right. Thank you. I'd--I'd like that. I'll be there," he promises. "I'l... let you get on with your work now in peace, I suppose. Thanks--thank you, E'tyn. Have a good day."
"You too," with his official duties done, even if it took dragon nagging, E'tyn flashes R'dur another of his relieved smiles and then turns to focus the entirety of his attention to work. The mallet is set down, the chisel picked up again, and again it's to the little wooden hole that the young man begins to work at smoothing out.