[Log] Weyrlife
Who: R'dur, S'ref
When: Day 21, Month 12, Turn 13
Where: Weyrling Barracks, Telgar Weyr
What: R'dur has a talk with one of his mentees.
Weyrling Barracks, Telgar Weyr
This immense cavern is the home for weyrling pairs. A huge opening is the entrance, leading to the ground level bowl. The floor is not quite smooth, being gouged with numerous scratches and cracks, from the clumsy undergrown claws on equally clumsy dragonets. The indentations on the floor, made by millennial pressure of the growing dragons, are quite suggestive of their purpose. Most of them have furs in one corner of them, as the new riders sleep as near their lifemates as they can. A particular odour lingers in the air here, not quite pleasant.
Contents:
S'ref
Iazeth
Uesarth
Stone Ledges
Obvious exits:
WLM's Office Bowl
S'ref has on his patented 'I'm thinking really really hard' expression...in other words, he's just sitting on his cot focusing super intently on a book that's lying on his lap. His eyes are narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, and every so often his mouth will move to soundlessly form words. Meanwhile, Iazeth simply ambles around the barracks, his pace slow so his content blue eyes can take everything in.
Not long after lunch, R'dur makes his way over toward the barracks, pausing before the doorway to tug at his shirt and straighten himself up, not that he was anything less than neat to start with. Still, when that's finished, he steps forward finally, slipping inside and glancing around the barracks quickly until he finds S'ref in the midst of them and starts that way. "Ah, S'ref? I'm not, I'm not interrupting, am I?" he asks slowly.
S'ref manages to miss R'dur's entrance due to his concentration, though when he speaks, the weyrling is jolted to attention and drops his book in surprise. "Oh!" He exclaims, looking from R'dur to the fallen book. "No, no, of course not! I mean, well, technically you are. But I'd love for you to interrupt! Just studying, y'see." He pauses before hastily giving the 'rider a formal salute. "Erk, sorry, nearly forgot that part. You, um, look nice." He looks around the room for a moment before glancing at his own rather wrinkly outfit. "Am I supposed to look nice? My hair's all scruffy and so are my clothes, been so busy an' all, but I shouldn't make excuses." His right foot sneakily moves forward to nudge the dropped book underneath his cot. Never happened!
R'dur just blinks at S'ref, and offers a sheepish smile for the bronzerider's discomfort. "It's okay," offers R'dur, with a slow smile and another glance down at his clothes. "Er. Well, you're a weyrling; it's rather hard to keep... immaculate, what with the dragons so young and everything. You're sure I'm not interrupting something important? I don't want to be in the way, you understand. But I wanted to come see you, since I'm going to be your mentor now."
S'ref jumps to his feet and puts a cheery grin on. "No, honestly R'dur. /Please/ drag me away from that book. I can only read the words 'leading edge', 'trailing edge, and 'spar' so many times." He beams, giving an enthusiastic nod. "Yeah! X'n-er, I mean, the Weyrlingmaster mentioned that. I was happy to hear your name, 'cause I know you!" He scuffs his boot on the rough floor, grin turning a bit sheepish. "And you searched me, if you remember. And you helped us candidates out tons and all...yeah." He crosses his arms, weight shifting to one foot. "So, um, what do I do as your men...mentee? Your chores, like sewing and laundry n'stuff?"
R'dur blushes, ducking his head as S'ref reels off the list of things he's done. "It's not... really that much," he notes awkwardly. "I mean, anyone else would do the same. But, ah--oh, no! Of course not!" he exclaims in response to the latter questions, eyes widening. "This is for you--I mean, I'm here to help you." Pause. "I mean, not so much with chores and things, really, but... you know. To provide guidance, answer questions, practice what the weyrlingmaster teaches you... That sort of thing. So--how are you and Iazeth?"
S'ref pauses, his mouth forming a round 'oh' of surprise before he contemplates an answer to R'dur's question. "We're...we're well, that's for sure. It's just so /weird/! But I'm sure you know all about that, heh." He blushes for a moment but barrels on, "Never had my mind invaded before, I mean, he just goes in there and roots around for memories and answers if I'm not fast enough in responding to him. And...and...I find myself talking like him, not me. Dya know what I mean? I'll randomly spout off long bits of commentary and flattery, but I don't usually do that." He shifts his weight again before hesitantly asking, "Do...do we get to ask you questions, then? I mean me, ask you. Since you're my mentor." He 'ohs' softly again and points to where his bandages are hidden underneath his jacket. "Right, almost forgot, my wound thingy is healing well. Though there's, er...a great big ugly scar forming."
"It is weird," R'dur laughs wryly, nodding. "I can't speak for Iazeth, but Alidaeth is... something else entirely; we've really very little in common and it was not easy for us at first. It still isn't, a lot of times," confesses the brownrider, as he moves to sit down himself for a moment, on the cot next to S'ref. "Alidaeth has never really affected the way I say things, but... Well. He's very bold. But you can ask me anyway, really, and I'll do my best to answer. That's what I'm here for. I'm glad you're healing well, though--a scar's not so bad, really? Considering."
S'ref seems to take R'dur's sitting as permission to sit down himself, so he eagerly plops back down on his cot and folds his legs underneath him. "I think Iazeth is...quietly bold with me. He doesn't demand I do anything or really outright push me, but it's like bits of his personality just naturally rub off on me sometimes, and he nudges me in what he thinks is the right direction. Iazeth and me aren't much alike either." He sighs happily before continuing, "But I still think he's perfect, y'know?" Abruptly, he tosses in a question, "What's a weyr like? I mean a personal weyr. Never been in one."
R'dur smiles ruefully, shaking his head once as he observes S'ref. "There's nothing quiet about Alidaeth," he offers a second later. "He's michievous, into everything, always with some kind of scheme going on. Don't let him get Iazeth into trouble; he'll probably try even though I've asked him not to bother the weyrlings." The older man pauses, though, at the question, blinking at it. "That's... really what you want to know?" He sounds surprised by that particular question. "They're all different, depending on, oh, lots of things. I've only ever been to, er, a--a couple--" he blushes, quite red "--but mine is average-sized, I suppose; it has two levels and stairs, which is rather unique I think. Brijana and I use the upstairs for a bedroom, and keep Raija there too; the downstairs makes living quarters, and room for Alidaeth's couch just outside."
S'ref's jaw drops just a little. "Woah! Two levels? That's neat! Sounds way better than a crowded resident's cavern, or candidate barracks, or weyrling barracks." His head tilts at the mention of the rider's weyrmate. "How do you work out moving in with a weyrmate? I mean, how do you pick who's to go to? Dya get a bigger one if you live with another person?" His cheeks begin to take on a pink tinge and he stares down at his hands. "Still weird, thinking 'weyrmate' instead of 'marriage'. But I'm sure Iazeth and the rest of Telgar Weyr will get those holder ideas out of my head sooner or later." He gulps loudly. "Or at least, Iazeth chasing in one of those...y'know, flights...will."
R'dur's blush does not find at the continued questions, and he rubs the back of his neck, looking mildly regretful of opening himself up to questions. "Er. Well. Bri--Brijana, I mean--she's not a rider so she just lived in the residents' dorm before moving in with me. Most of the weyrs are big enough for two people, though, I think--though if you have a family some of them might get a little crowded. When Tiriana, Cyrra, and Jaethe turned up, it was... definitely a little awkward for a while, before Jaethe left and then Cyrra of course was searched." Pause. "Ah. Right, flights." He gets no further on that subject, though.
S'ref bites his lip hard and keeps his mouth clamped shut for a bit. "Er, sorry. I really shouldn't be so nosey. It's not like me." A momentary, piercing glare is aimed in the direction of Iazeth. "Told ya his personality gets to me sometimes..." He grimace and shuffles uneasily on his cot. "I guess kids would live in the residents cavern, if ya fostered them." He adds awkwardly, explicitly making an obvious statement rather than ask a question.
"No, no, it's all right," R'dur hastens to reassure S'ref, though he looks a little relieved despite himself. "As for the children... Well. Bri and I have decided not to foster Raija; we want to keep her and raise her ourselves as much as we can. And Tiriana--well. She's my niece; we can't just send her off, and she seems... content, to stay with us. At least, nothing Brijana and I do has scared her away yet." More blushing.
S'ref nods slowly, scratching at his nose while he thinks. "I'd like to, er, raise my own kid, too. If I ever have one, obviously. Which, um, isn't going to be for a while. If ever. But I don't think I could ever get used to the Weyr idea of fostering, at least for my own child." He drums his fingers on his cot and nods again. "Has...has she done anything to scare /you/ away? I met her once. She...she and T'rev, Trevan at the time, decided to sing bawdy songs. I was...uncomfortable."
"It's not easy letting go of them," R'dur agrees quietly, nodding. "My other daughter, Ysalia, lives with her mother, but--well. I still try to help as much as I can with her, though..." He fades off with a shrug, frowning. Instead, on the latter subject, he offers a wry smile. "Tiriana? Many times. She's... rather frightening, I think--a mirror image of my brother, her father. We have always been very much opposites, myself and Sh'drian. But... Well. I'm sorry she upset you, at any rate."
S'ref simply listens to R'dur, choosing not to pursue the subject of his other daughter other than to comment, "Least *between* lets ya travel around easily." He shuffles on his cot again, smiling sheepishly at his mentor. "Oh, well, I wasn't /upset/, really. Was just new to the Weyr and suddenly woah! Dirty ditty. She still seems nice." He coughs once. "Well, I mean, she doesn't seem like she'll kill me or anything. And that's a quality I prize in people."
R'dur blinks at S'ref, a slow smile tugging at his mouth as the weyrling calls Tiriana 'nice.' "Well," he concedes a second later. "She probably won't kill you, at any rate. She hasn't anyone yet, though she's rather fone of hitting them." He's nothing if not honest. "But she does other things than sing filthy songs, although... she knows rather a lot of those. Don't let her scare you /too/ bad.
S'ref blinks rapidly. "Wait, hit people? Really?" He rubs his arms nervously and looks around, as if Tiriana could barge in wielding a flaming kitchen knife at any moment. "She hasn't hit /me/ yet." The weyrling can't help but roll his eyes and chuckle. "Oh, okay. I'll be sure to not be scared now that you've told me she goes around whacking people. I wasn't scared /before/ but now..." He shrugs helplessly. "If I get a black eye, I'm comin' straight to your weyr. I might not know where it is, but I know what it looks ilke, so watch out!"
R'dur rubs the back of his neck, nodding. "When she and Giremi went to High Reaches for a--diplomatic mission recently, she punched one of their bronzeriders. And got herself hit back by the Weyrwoman, but. Ah. Just... make sure Brijana is there, if you do? She's much better at handling Tiriana than I am. Brijana can be... scarier than Tiriana, in her own way. But really, it's not... I mean, it's not quite so dire as it sounds, I think."
S'ref rubs the back of his neck, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Wait, you sent the niece you know likes to hit people on a diplomatic mission? That, er, seems odd. And I didn't know Weyrwoman /could/ hit people. Well, I mean, I know they have fists and the physical ability to..." He grins, firmly shaking his head. "I'm just kidding about hunting you down, R'dur. I mean, sir. I wouldn't go stalking down your weyr just 'cause your niece hit me. Not like /you/ woulda been the one that did it."
"She, um. Asked to go. And we thought..." R'dur makes a vague sort of motion, not clarifying what they thought. Instead: "You... wouldn't really be the first, to show up at the weyr on account of Tiriana. As for the Weyrwoman Satiet--she's a very special case, I believe. She doesn't like me very much, I don't think. Although, I suspect our own Weyrwoman would be rather able to defend herself if it came down to it," he confesses.
S'ref shrugs loosely as he gets to his feet. "Well, she seems nice, though. So I don't know why anyone would want to punch her in the first place. Gay, I mean." He gets down to his knees in front of his cot, fishing around underneath the bed to try and find his abandoned book. Judging from his grimaces and disgusted expressions, he finds a few not-so-fun dustballs first, but eventually his hands emerge with the book. "Anyway, I should probably get back to studying, R'dur...sir. I don't want to mess up so early in the process, y'know?"
Standing as well, R'dur offers a wry smile. "I don't know, but some people need very little reason. But, oh. Right. I shouldn't keep you; I just wanted to see how you were doing and all, you understand. But if you do need anything, just have Iazeth tell Alidaeth, or send a message for me, or... Anything. You know. That's what I'm here for."
S'ref offers R'dur a very grateful smile as he stands back up. "No, honestly R'dur, thank you for stopping by. I really appreciate it. I'd shake your hand, if it wasn't all covered with dust now." He nods solemnly as he dusts his hands off on his weyrling outfit. Now it's crumpled /and/ dirty, huzzah! "I will, sir." He gently sits back on his couch, remarkably resuming the exact same position he was in earlier in no time at all.