[Log] That Part of the Curriculum
Who: Emilly, I'daur
When: Day 26, Month 8, Turn 12
Where: Weyrling Training Room, High Reaches Weyr
What: Emilly has something about the curriculum on her mind.
Weyrling Training Room, High Reaches Weyr
This large room was cut deep into the cliff side and is lit only by glows. There are two large stone tables running east and west. Behind each table is a stone bench for the weyrlings to sit on, not very comfortable admittedly, but wood is too valuable to use for this purpose. At the north end of the room is a smaller stone table and chair, used by the WeyrlingMaster. Behind that lies a map of the northern continent, the areas that each Weyr protects carefully marked.
On the east wall is a detailed depiction of a dragon's wing with the anatomy clearly marked. If you look at the west wall, it's covered with many Wing formations. In the back of the room are a couple old, scratched up couches. Originally they were in the colors of High Reaches Weyr, one black, one dark blue, but now it's a little difficult to tell which is which.
Contents:
Emilly
Obvious exits:
Bowl Candidate Barracks
Even the Reaches eventually get hot in the summer and though the Weyrling's training cavern is cooler than the Bowl, there's one sweaty, dusty, grimy greenrider working away in the room, doing something one might not expect: cleaning. In-depth cleaning for that matter. With a toothbrush in some places. Emilly pauses for a moment, sitting back on her heels from getting the crevices on one side of the wall, the back of one hand wiping across her brow and leaving a long gray streak behind. "How in Faranth's name it gets so dirty in here ... I don't know ..." she might be heard to murmur.
I'daur is usually found hanging around somewhere in the barracks, procrastinating (or drinking) at his desk or making his own half-hearted attempts at cleaning which bear no relation whatsoever to Emilly's earnest exertions. Today is, though, one of those days when he's /not/ actually there, not planning on putting in any time in the office, until he realizes he needs something out of there and makes his way into the room. Where he stops, blinking, at the greenrider on the floor. "Emilly," he says in greeting. And then, dryly, as he watches her scrub, "I thought that was why we had weyrlings." Not that they have any at present.
Emilly tilts a look over her shoulder as the Weyrlingmaster himself steps into the room and she smiles at him sunnily. "Well yes, but we have to set a baseline for them. No sense in having them come into a filthy Barracks, doesn't give them much incentive to keep it shiny, does it?" Not that the place was /really/ that dirty to begin with, but apparently the greenrider has a whole other standard where cleanliness is concerned. She straightens though and tosses off a crisp-enough salute. "And how're you today sir?"
"Uh. Right," says I'daur, though he doesn't really seem to see it, messy man that he is. At any rate, he moves to shuffle out of Emilly's way, avoiding wet spots and freshly-cleaned ground as much as possible as he edges to his chair and sits down heavily in it. "Well enough. You?" Pause. "Heard your boy caught down at Ista a while back."
The willowy rider, returns to her work, actually getting some more grit off of the rocky shelf she's cleaning. (It's rock ... isn't it supposed to be gritty?) "Very well, thanks. Just about got Milani's dress for the last of the summer Gathers done and I've been reviewing my notes from the last clutches I assisted with, to refresh my memory." She pauses again and laughs a little. "Yes. His /dragon/ caught Nalaieth at Ista ... about a fortnight ago now. He'll be moving there soon." Scrub, scrub. "I've been wondering actually, how you usually handle that part of the curriculum. Flights, that is."
"Milani. Your youngest," says I'daur slowly, as he tries to place that name in the context of Emilly's several children. He nods absently, and is silent several seconds, until she directs her latter question to him. He frowns, knits his brows, and finally answers, "Delicately." And despite the dry humor in his voice, he inflects the word with a hint of question: an almost unspoke why do you ask.
"Yes, she's the one who looks most like me, but has her father's gumption," notes the greenrider with a fond smile that fades back into seriousness as she gives the shelf a final swipe and moves over to stand near I'daur's chair, giving the corner of the desk a little bit of a polish. "Large lecture? Small groups? One-on-one? Do you separate the girls from the boys?" Apparently Em has quite the list of factors to ask questions about.
"Dangerous combination," I'daur observes of Milani, and leaves it at that. "Usually try to catch 'em individually, or maybe two if I have to. Seems t'work better than big groups--keeps them serious, paying attention. Why?" That last question is more than a bit suspicious now.
Emilly rubs at the desktop a bit more. "Yes," she says quietly. "I'm being optimistic and hoping that her good sense will outweigh any number of frightening scenarios I can imagine." There's a half-smile from her and then she shrugs. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page when it comes around to it. I prefer to approach it that way myself. Especially with the shyer ones ... or the younger ones. It's been pointed out that we have some younger Candidates in the group so far. I'm thinking ahead."
"Don't envy you--kids," I'daur just shakes his head, mouth twitching upward into a half-smile at the thought. "I figure..." he says slowly then, "you can take the girls if you wanna, or the... quiet ones. You're better with them, and you can handle it--didn't really trust those two kids last time with /that/," he notes of his former assistants.
"Comes with the job," says Emilly lightly. "Though I'll admit that Millie's given more gray hairs than P'draig, Giremi or Ilyandra combined." She's pensive a moment, then shrugs again and nods. "I'd like that. Sometimes ... it really helps not to have to turn to someone of the opposite gender for this sort of advice." She stops polishing the desk and smoothes the rag out, all smudgy from being used to clean. "Mm, it takes a certain delicacy, as you mentioned."
I'daur nods slowly, his smile wry. "Can't say I got that," he notes of that 'certain delicacy.' "'Preciate it, though. You helping out. S'not going to be easy this time around, with these kids and--things bein' what they are." By which he means Thread.
Emilly's answering smile is warm. "Everyone has their own area of specialty right? And I'm glad to help. You can handle all the "watch your damn arses" bits and I'll do the coddling. Well. Relatively speaking." She sighs softly and nods. "Things being what they are, not much in the way of coddling."
"No, not going to help them any coddling them much," agrees I'daur. "Still, can't be all... well. All like me, all the time, even if it is to make sure they keep their asses in one piece." A shrug, though. "You met many of them yet?" he asks abruptly.
"A balance is good. Too much severity and they crumble, too much coddling and they don't toughen up," says Emilly equably, eyeing a spinnerweb up in the corner. "A few, one of the fellows has lived here all his life. And of course ... there's Talien." She sneaks a look sidelong at the Weyrlingmaster as she speaks that name.
"Can't say I know many of the ones that've grown up here," admits I'daur, gruffly. "More likely to know their parents. There's Talien--met one of the little ones the other day. Madison, I think," he moves on quickly from the subject of his very own personal thorn in the side.
"Ayson's the one I met. He's from here. Handyman of some sort," Emilly describes. "And there were two girls," she rattles off the names and their parents', rider-children both, on at least one side. "Madison? Yes that was one of the names that Shanlee mentioned as being on the young side. I might swing by later, see if I can catch her."
"Twelve," answers I'daur, concering Madison. "But--I think she can take care of herself. Think she's already taking on R'hin--he thinks he's too young, nevermind he told 'em to be looking for younger and older. Set her some kind of task and, well. She's a pretty determined little kid."
Emilly makes a face doing a little mental math. "I have to admit, I don't like it when we Search the ones under fifteen. Especially girls. It's so much harder if the Impress green or gold and that first flight comes on too soon." Her arms fold across her chest as she takes in the words about R'hin. "Really? She gave the Weyrleader /sass/ ... huh. Well then, maybe she can handle herself," muses the greenrider.
"Apparently, he wanted to renege on the terms," I'daur notes, bemused. Then, on the subject of age: "Can't say it's easy whatever age or gender you are, from what I've seen. Not real easy on the males, either, but leastways most of them are still too stupid to catch for a couple of turns."
"Did he now?" Emilly looks bemused herself. "Not that I know R'hin all that well," she shrugs. "Is that characteristic of him?" Then she nods. "No. I suppose I was lucky with mine. Anyway, I'll make sure they've an ear, all of them when we get there." She leans against the desk then, looking out towards the Bowl where summer heat shimmers. "I can also doss down here early on. Do you do that? Have people takes turn staying close by when they're newly hatched?"
"I didn't think so," admits I'daur, though he shrugs the matter off readily enough. As to the latter--"I stay close, usually, or at the least keep Zunaeth here to watch 'em, but wouldn't say no to trading off."
"Mm," is all Emilly says for the first, the second though, she nods for. "Yes, I'd be happy to trade off and Sionath is used to babysitting too. It'll be easier that way, not all of it falling on either one of us." She's quiet for a moment. "Got anyone else in mind to help out, by the way?" Her gaze returns to the Weyrlingmaster, brows lifted a little to underscore the question.
"Not... really," admits I'daur in response to the latter. "Don't know many I'd trust--most of those that /I/ know well are dead or retired these days. You got somebody in mind, Emilly?"
Emilly chews on her lip for a moment, then shakes her head. "All of those I can think of are wingleaders or 'seconds. The clutches are smaller, so it's not as pressing ... but ..." she shrugs. "The more help the better?" Her eyes lift to the Weyrlingmaster's, the clear gray a little troubled.
To that, I'daur only nods, once and curtly. "True enough. Well, if you ever think of anybody, lemme know, and I'll think, too. Can't say another'd go amiss--seems like, the fewer of them there are, the harder they work to cause the same amount of trouble."
"I will," she nods a few times and then stuffs her rag into her pocket. "Depends on the clutch, doesn't it I'daur? Though if this Madison is as feisty as you say ..." she trails off with a slight smile. "Well. I think I've done all I can for today. I'm going to go wash up, grab a bite. Want me to bring you a tray, or will you be joining us in the cavern this evening?"
"Between her, and Talien, if they both impress--" I'daur doesn't finish, only shakes his head. "Ah. Bring me something by, if you don't mind--I'm not picky. Thanks."
"Exactly," remarks Emilly wryly and she nods. "I don't mind at all." Briefly she rests a hand on I'daur's shoulder then she slips out on a mission for cleanliness and dinner, times two.