[Log] On Female Greenriders and Other Subjects
Who: Adria, L'dor, N'kail
When: Day 20, Month 10, Turn 448
Where: Living Cavern, Benden Weyr
What: N'kail makes the acquaintance of L'dor and his new wingsecond Adria.
Notes: Backdated.
Living Cavern Autumn. Breezy. 54F / 12C.
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. High in the eastern walls, narrow windows allow slants of light through the gloom, the glowbaskets here sparse and ill-suited to the amount of space. There are long gaps in the room where tables must have been at one time: Now, there are only about a dozen long picnic tables filling too little of the area; most of them are arranged neatly in the middle section of the cavern, but a few have been pulled off-center or into corners. The rest of the space seems empty, lacking tapestries to color the walls and extra tables to fill the floor.
The exits from here are pretty clear-cut: A set of handsomely carved stone steps lead up to the balcony-style kitchen that wraps around the cavern; a tunnel on the eastern wall slopes upward just slightly on its way out to the bowl; the southern tunnel slops downward steadily as it dips into the Weyr's inner caverns.
-- Players --
N'kail.........6'2, solidly built, early forties; short and curling brown hair, hazel eyes; confident and matter-of-fact.
Adria..........Tall, slim, refined; Lovely, unassuming. Early twenties.
L'dor..........Early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes; fit-looking and rather gangly.
-- Exits --
Kitchen..................[N] Bowl.....................[E]
Inner Caverns............[S]
L'dor
A young man of 23, L'dor has the look of one who has grown upwards faster than outwards. A height of 5'11' combines with an angular frame to give him an awkward appearance, though his limbs show enough taut muscle to suggest that physical work is a feature of his life. Dark brown hair is cut fairly short and parted on the right side: the short fringe refuses to settle and is as likely to stand vertically as to lie flat, giving the appearance of a high forehead. Eyebrows are small and neat, not detracting from eyes whose irises are a clear pale blue encircled by a darker ring. His face is square with a strong jaw and straight nose, and his skin has acquired a medium tan. Though he won't be setting the girls swooning, he's not bad looking. His hands are broad, with nails cut square.
L'dor is wearing his flying leathers: a heavy brown wherhide jacket that reaches down over his hips, and brown wherhide trousers that have been cut to allow freedom of movement. His boots are also brown, and well polished.
Adria
Some people are gifted with a calming presence; able to instantly put others at ease. Though only in her early twenties, Adria has that sense about her - in easy smile, casual bearing, and lilting, melodic tone.
She's certainly lovely, though it's not apparent at once; often quiet and unassuming, she can be easy to overlook. Thick wavy dark-brown hair falls well past her shoulders, framing a pale oval face with delicate, refined features. Her wide, rounded eyes are light amber, the spark of a keen intellect lurking in their depths, her full, bow-shaped mouth animated. Tall and long-limbed - about 5'8" - there's a wiry energy in the toned shape of her body, graced with the slightest of curves.
Dressed warmly against the weather, she is less stylish than comfortable. Dark red is a bright spot of colour in the gray of the season, the knit dress she wears fitted along her minimal curves. Predictably, it's long in sleeves and skirt both, high-necked and straight-lined; simple and smart. High, polished black leather boots provide her protection against the elements, as does a matching wool coat that, if not worn, is usually nearby. She wears the knot of a Benden Wingsecond, threaded through with a strand of soft green.
N'kail
Broad-shouldered and solidly built, N'kail stands about 6'2". Though he looks to be in his early forties now, his faintly curly hair is still dark brown, kept cropped to a couple of inches so it doesn't get into his confident hazel eyes. He has a distinctly masculine face, with a straight nose and square jaw usually stubble-dusted; his basic expression is one best termed matter-of-fact. At the corners of N'kail's eyes small lines are just beginning to set themselves into place. Despite middle age, he's still fit from a life as a rider.
Matching his often no-nonsense bearing, N'kail wears simple clothes fit for a working man: plain shirts and sometimes-patched pants in dull browns or tans or olive greens. Not one for frills or fashion, he wears his creased black boots with everything, and generally throws an old coat over that in colder months. His knot shows he's a bronzerider and a wingleader of Benden.
L'dor pours water for himself, then follows Adria away from the serving table. "Pass along any... types of beast that he likes? I'll ask him - he might remember." He's quiet for a few moments. "Oh. That one was tasty but small, apparently."
The cavern's abuzz with the lunchtime crowd, Adria and L'dor among them as they try to find a seat. She quirks a grin, correcting, "The beaches. But good to know about the wherry." She finds a mostly-empty table for the two of them, stepping over the bench to sit. "Andoran's really enjoying the travel."
L'dor flushes. "Oh, sorry. Yes, we found some nice ones of those. When you want to go down for a soak, get Chiyath to ask Banyth for a visual, and I'll remind him of a place he liked." He moves round to the other side of the table and puts his plate and glass down opposite Adria, then inserts himself between bench and table and sits down. With a grin, he admits, "Tell you the truth, I'm enjoying it a lot, too. So's Banyth - he likes to be out and about."
Settling in to a new place has been quite an adjustment for N'kail, and have kept him from being terribly visible thus far, except for mealtimes. Now being one of those, he makes his way into the living cavern and up to the serving table to fill himself a plate, not picky about what he gathers for himself. When he's finished, he turns about to find a seat, heading through the lunchtime crowd, and finally winding up near L'dor and Adria to set his stuff down and seat himself.
Adria doesn't seem to notice any embarrassment on L'dor's part, calmly tearing apart her roll. "I'll do that - Thank you." Picking at her meal, she glances around the caverns enough to spot N'kail as he arrives at the table. She offers a brisk nod before looking back to the bluerider to continue, "I can imagine - the way Andoran describes it, it's a good time for all involved. I'll have to admit - all that green takes a bit of getting used to for me."
"It's great. So much space - I love it." L'dor's waxing lyrical while transforming his bread and cheese into a sandwich. "The sense that there's nobody there for thousands of miles except us is just amazing. When Banyth and I went down for that long trip we did, it felt as if we could have flown forever." He gives a sudden laugh. "Shells, I'm starting to sound like a harper's ballad!" Glancing round, he spots N'kail nearby nods and acknowledgement, murmuring, "Wingleader."
"Bluerider," N'kail offers L'dor as he's recognized, glancing briefly over at the younger man. And, to his companion: "Greenrider." A pause; in the interlude, he finishes setting up his meal and begins eating before he offers more greeting to the pair: a simple, "How are you?"
"The danger of being around Harpers too often," Adria offers a grin despite her wry tone. "Sounding like them, I mean. One can end up sounding like a poet if not careful." Tearing her roll into smaller bits, "I can see that. Though it might disturb me a little too much - perhaps I'm not as adventurous." At least, about exploring. The 'Wingleader' for N'kail gets a blink, and she turns to look at the bronzerider more assessingly. "Sir," she offers politely. "Well enough. Yourself?"
"Well, thank you, sir." L'dor's tone is reserved, though he too is taking in impressions of the bronzerider. "Hope you're settling in well." He slices the sandwich into two across the middle of the rounds of bread and picks up one of the almost rectangular halves.
"About the same," confesses N'kail with a shake of his head. "Think I am, finally. Got my personal stuff in order, time to start on the business." A couple moments of silence and eating, and then he adds, "Which I expect'll be the worse one. I know the place was desperate but--the man before me." He snorts, apparently not very impressed with I'neph's performance in the post.
Adria watches L'dor and his neat sandwich-making with an amused quirk of her lips, but most of the greenrider's attention is still fixed on N'kail. "Moving," she says easily, "Is always a difficulty. At least it's clean here now." A pause, then carefully, "Business. Well, given the green's wing has been divided up amongst the other wings, there'll be an adjustment period in drilling." Finally willing to offer introductions, "I'm Adria. And this is L'dor - unless the two of you have met?"
L'dor shakes his head. "No. Well met, sir." He glances at Adria. "I guess we've had quite a bit of change all at once." A moment's hesitation, then, "Which wing are you in now." The sandwich is lowered, the glass raised. Not much actual eating is happening.
"We've not," says N'kail with a shake of his head and another glance toward the pair. "N'kail, formerly of the Reaches. You're not one of mine, are you? Sorry, I don't know hardly any of them yet," he tells L'dor. And, to Adria: "I've been meaning to speak to the Weyrleader about that, actually--that whole messy business--but I've not had a chance to yet. I figured I could actually try to do this the legitimate way just once," he remarks dryly, "instead of just barging in on him straightaway."
With some surprise, "He - hasn't spoken to you about it yet?" Adria arches a brow - interesting - then shrugs. To L'dor's question as well as N'kail's, she offers an odd twist of a smile. "As part of my punishment, I've been 'demoted' -" Feel those quotes. "To our new bronzerider's wingsecond. And there's not a whole lot of legitimate around here, sir - so you might as well barge in. Of course, I am biased in that sense." And not a little bitter - she tries to cover it with a sip of water.
L'dor winces as Adria mentions her new position, but tells N'kail, "No, sir, I'm not one of yours. I'm in B'net's wing." And then he settles back to let the wingleader and his 'second get acquainted with each other, while he gets on with his lunch. He's keeping a wary eye on the pair of them, though.
"Me, too," drawls N'kail in answer to Adria's latter admission. "Not that it generally worked on Fl'sim or D'wed. Hoping Sh'van's different than either of those two asshats, though." A shrug, though. "Nothing personal, but I'm going to straighten all that out," he adds to Adria. A nod to L'dor acknowledges the bluerider's answer to his earlier question.
"Couldn't tell you if there's much different, to be honest. I don't really know the Weyrleader anymore. And I have seen very little of the Reaches or its people." Big surprise there, eh? Adria shots L'dor a quick glance to make sure the bluerider's not -overly- uncomfortable, then continues, "Nothing personal? Should I assume that I'll lose another knot? I wouldn't mind the extra time. Good luck. Sh'van is not one for listening to reason or logic."
L'dor looks not so much uncomfortable as puzzled, head tilting questioningly as N'kail mentions names with which he's unfamiliar, and brow furrowing a little as Adria speaks, though he's carefully paying attention to his glass of water as he lets them get on with it.
"Two of them," explains N'kail with a shake of his head for rememberings of dealings with both, "are the most stubborn, uneducated, lazy bastards I've met. They didn't think much of me, either." Not particularly concerned with that, though, he tells Adria more on topic, "Up to the Weyrleader. Don't have nothing against you leading your girls for sweeps and the like, so. Seems like a good arrangement to me, actually, and it seemed to be working. Didn't it?"
Adria offers a lovely, apologetic smile for N'kail. "I'm afraid stubborn is a sure similarity," she says. "I hope, for your sake, that the Weyrleader will think more of you." Spearing some greens with a fork, she responds diffidently, "It depend on your perspective, how well it was working. The wing had reached over forty riders - it was becoming unwieldy. The rank I had was less than ceremonial, as only me and my wing respected it; and we weren't to be permitted to do much of anything because the Weyrleader thinks the lot of us are useless. Given that, I'm not too broken up about the wing or the demotion. Nor will I be devestated at being unable to be a wingsecond. I have enough of other people's hidework to do."
Deliberate chewing of cheese sandwiches may be fascinating to the tactful or embarrassed, but L'dor's finding curiosity a strong pull, and "Forty?" just slips out. That needs explanation. "That's a lot - more than we ever had."
"Well, I'm that, too," N'kail concedes at least that much, with a smirk as he continues eating. "And I'll agree, forty's too many for one person to handle. Sounds like you got a lot of that double standards, double talk, sort of thing? Don't have a lot of patience for that, either--if they're gonna call you wingleader they oughta act like it or not bother with the whole damn charade."
Adria nods to L'dor, noting, "It was your lot that pushed us up to that mark. Plus the hatching." She can't help but look a little pleased for that - remorse is clearly not the greenrider's thing in this case. With a cautious look at N'kail, she agrees slowly, "I was willing to put up with it for a time, as I don't expect the world to change at my behest. But - I was rather tired of being told that the wing couldn't do - well. Anything. Among other issues that I won't bore you with."
L'dor grins sympathetically at Adria. "Pretty tedious, I should think. Well, you know what I think about that. Still, none of our girls would have had the chance of what you've got now." That's accompanied by a nod towards her shoulder, the one with the wingsecond's knot and continues reflectively, "That's a precedent that might change things for a lot of us, if you could carry it off."
N'kail shakes his head. "Be interested in hearing, sometime. Now's probably not the place, but. Not going to actually have you /flying/ with us, but. Can't let you be completely useless, either--we wouldn't put up with a resident who didn't work for his food and bed, not going to put up with a rider who does the same thing, either." A shrug. He glances then to L'dor, brows knitting slightly, but he doesn't quite question what the bluerider means.
Giving the bluerider a slight smile, Adria notes, "I'm not likely to be doing it long enough to carry it off. A shame, really." Glancing back to N'kail, she looks faintly amused, telling him, "Ah yes. Conveyance, fetch-and-carry, sweeps, should our eyes be trusted. Talk to me again when your male greenriders are dead or grounded from Threadfall." Another of those lovely smiles. "Opinions may change."
L'dor raises his eyebrows at N'kail's words - apparently he'd interpreted what the wingleader said before differently. With a sideways look at N'kail, he tells Adria reassuringly, "We'll need you, right enough. We'll need every dragon we can get." Then he turns on the wingleader and asks, flat out, "The think I really haven't understood yet, is /why/ do people in this time think our women riders are useless? Don't they trust dragons any more?"
"I should hope I can train them better than that," drawls N'kail pointedly, "or we'll all be like that. Didn't worked fifteen turns trying to get the Reaches to drill like they oughta to screw it up when I finally get a wing of my own." His mouth twists slightly, amused at the notion, though that half-smile fades as he turns a look back to L'dor. "It's funny, a lot of them like to preach dragons' choice to the boys--Faranth knows I heard that enough--they like to preach that until something like this happens. Far as I'm concerned, it's not so much useless as different uses."
Adria seems amused - and pleased - by L'dor's question. "Mm. They only trust them when it sorts out how they like. And not to cast any doubt on your ability to train, sir - but my guess is regardless how well trained any of us are, there'll be a high attrition rate. It seems to be the general pattern." She shrugs over at N'kail, adding, "I suppose we won't have to wait too long to find out. If I'm incorrect, I will happily admit it at that point."
L'dor shrugs. "I can't see why dragons'd choose riders that don't have what it takes to fly Fall over those that did - and there were plenty of boys on the sands at the last hatching that they could have chosen. Got to assume they knew what they wanted." He fixes his attention on N'kail. "If you've got any of the Connell women in your wing, then you've got riders that were trained to fight Thread alongside the men. You could talk to them about it."
"You got some kind of inside track on what the dragons are thinking?" N'kail asks L'dor pointedly, though his tone is even enough, not really mocking the younger rider. "I'll talk to 'em, though--I plan on speaking to all my riders and getting to know them." Pause. To Adria: "Well. I'll hope you will be wrong, if you don't mind," he tells the greenrider.
Adria's quiet enough at first - L'dor's making all the arguments just fine without her jumping in. "All the greenriders were trained to fight Thread," she notes softly, as she finishes with her food, setting the plate aside. "Most of the early pairs flew with the Weyrleader's wing at Fort with few issues. And I don't mind." She looks N'kail's way, sincere and serious both. "I'd rather not see the wings decimated. But - the chances of all going perfectly after all this time? I think they're low." Wryly, "Forgive my pessimism, but I've learned to expect the worst."
L'dor flushes, but holds his ground, though his tone has a defensive note. "Wish I had. But the two things we're taught about dragons from day one, is that their instincts make them want to fight Thread, and that they know who the best rider for them is. If that's wrong, it kind of scares me." And, it's really time to finish that sandwich.
"Scares me, too," N'kail admits to L'dor, frowning. "And, me, I'm no pessimist. If I was, I'd've been a hell of a lot more popular with the Weyrleaders back home, because I'd of given up and been a good little bronzerider a long time ago."
"It's not wrong. Its just convenient to pretend it might be. Faranth knows what might happen if women were to do anything at all with themselves." Adria glances at L'dor briefly, pointing out mildly, "You've as much right to your opinion as anyone else." Tilting her head to one side as she eyes N'kail; "Given up on training for thread at all, I imagine. And there -is- no such thing as a good little bronzerider."
L'dor smiles a little at N'kail's admission, smiles more at Adria's words, then raises his half-empty glass to the bronzerider, even though its contents are only water, and says with some amusement in his voice, "Welcome to Benden, sir." His plate's now empty.
"There's some," N'kail differs, frowning. "The ones that get their pretty little knot and don't care what happens with the rest of the world, the cowards. As long as it goes well for them--" A snort, distasteful of those sorts of men. "Anyway," he brushes off that talk with a shake of his head. "Thank you. I'm... 'Happy to be here' isn't quite the right phrase, but I appreciate the welcome, still, and I'll do my part here as I can."
More polite now, Adria notes lightly, "I meant more that I have never seen a bronzerider who wasn't an issue in on way or the other. There tends to be - strong personalities. Which makes some sense." Diplomatic too. She tips her own water glass toward N'kail at L'dor's toast, then; "I don't know if anyone could be said to be 'happy to be here', but. I still hope that you won't find it too - disagreeable."
L'dor looks pensive. "I am, I think. It's not home, and it's not what I expected, but it's all right." He grins, perhaps consciously lightening the tone. "Beats /not/ being here, all things considered, and hot water in the weyr has a lot to recommend it."
"There's good issues and bad ones," admits N'kail. "And I figure that's as true for bronze as any other color, or even those without a dragon.. Maybe more, considering the numbers and the--visibility." He faintly lifts his shoulders, then notes seriously, "I'll make do. Seems I've missed most of the worst of it, to my chagrin, but. Oh, you got one of those, too?" The latter question goes to L'dor, as the bronzerider arches a brow, casts a brief smile over at the bluerider. "They're nice, aren't they. Didn't have /that/ at the Reaches."
"Good point," Adria tells L'dor, with some feeling. "And I did find the running water a plus. Though I never did find a bathtub. I suppose it doesn't matter now." She shrugs a touch, beginning to rise to step over the bench. As she picks up her plate, she tells N'kail, "Oh, I don't know. There's always something going on around here. If you'll both excuse me? I have some work in the records room that needs doing." With an amused grin for the bronzerider, "Good luck getting rid of me. Perhaps the Weyrleader will listen to someone with an outsider perspective. In the meantime, let me know if you need anything."
"Or at Connell," L'dor chuckles. "Shells, there was only one decent bathroom in the whole Weyr, whereas here I've got a nice hole in the floor that fills up and then drains." His tone is light, but suddenly he's all seriousness again. "Mind, the Benden of my day was busy getting rich after convincing most of the planet that Thread would never fall again, and those who thought otherwise might find themselves exiled on some island. I'm almost glad to find it as it is, compared with that - hot water's no substitute for -." He searches for a word, finally coming up with, "Integrity."
"Or at Connell," L'dor chuckles. "Shells, there was only one decent bathroom in the whole Weyr, whereas here I've got a nice hole in the floor that fills up and then drains." His tone is light, but suddenly he's all seriousness again. "Mind, the Benden of my day was busy getting rich after convincing most of the planet that Thread would never fall again, and those who thought otherwise might find themselves exiled on some island. I'm almost glad to find it as it is, compared with that - hot water's no substitute for -." He searches for a word, finally coming up with, "Integrity." He looks up at the greenrider. "Clear skies, Adria."
"Of course. Good day," N'kail tells Adria with a nod to her, before he glances back at L'dor. "They did, did they," he remarks. "Well. You're certainly right on that. Shame more people don't feel the same," he notes on the subject of integrity, with a wry smile for the bluerider.
Adria offers a polite little salute to both men, and with a final, weighing glance for N'kail, she drops off her dishes and heads on out.
Adria heads to the bowl.
Adria has left.
L'dor waits until Adria's gone, then says more quietly, "I'm not lecturing, and I'm not saying that Connell was white as driven snow - we did stuff I'm none too proud of, me included. But at least in this time, all the Weyrs are taking Thread seriously, even if not everyone else is, as I understand it. That's the legacy of what people - dragonriders - did back in my time, I guess."
"They don't tithe, either," L'dor says glumly. "Hence the general lack of supplies, I gather - though that's better than it was. Oh, well, they'll get the idea when Thread falls. Don't know about the greenery, though. Maybe we should send a wing out on weed-flaming duty to drive the point home. - but I guess a burrow in their gather grounds might get the idea across, if we don't manage it.
"They don't tithe, either," L'dor says glumly. "Hence the general lack of supplies, I gather - though that's better than it was. Oh, well, they'll get the idea when Thread falls. Don't know about the greenery, though. Maybe we should send a wing out on weed-flaming duty to drive the point home - but I guess a burrow in their gather grounds might get the idea across, if we don't manage it. Anyway." He drains his mug. "Banyth needs to hunt. I should be going." He extricates himself from the bench. "Clear skies, sir."
"And you, L'dor," echoes N'kail thoughtfully, studying the bluerider a moment and offering a nod to him once. He stays where he is, with that same thoughtful expression, while the young man exits, and only when he's gone does he move to clean up his mess and head out, too.