[Log] A Turn's End Lecture
Who: I'daur, Lujayn, Viviana
When: Day 31, Month 12, Turn 15
Where: Weyrling Training Room, High Reaches Weyr
What: I'daur sends the turn out in style.
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:
Viviana
Obvious exits:
Bowl Weyrling Barracks
One by one, all the weyrlings have been called in for a chat with one of the weyrlingmasters, but the worst has been saved for last. Zunaeth reaches out to Rielsath while I'daur doses up on his alcohol for the last meeting. << Mine wants yours now, >> Zunaeth relays.
<< Of course he does, >> Rielsath's reply is bright as ever, assuring that her rider will soon be there. It takes a bit longer; Lujayn has more than a short step in from the barracks to go. When the weyrling arrives, she looks almost dressed up. Hair held back with two glittering pins, some simple dress of brown and gold visible under her thick winter jacket. "Happy turn's end," Is Lu's greeting to I'daur as she takes a seat. "What's the occasion here?"
A head bowed at the back of the room and scribbling of writing tool to a hide speaks that they are not alone. A poutful pentulant sigh speaks that they are graced with Viviana's presence as the lass works on a report that was due days before. Muttering to herself, "Two e's or one.." Vivy glances up and immediately notes the important things in life. "You look wonderful Lujayn. A dress! And.... hair pins? Oh my, your easy life as a goldrider begins soon. I'm so happy for you."
"Hate this time of year," I'daur counters morosely, with a shake of his head as he takes in Lujayn's appearance. Another good drink ensues, fortifying himself up. "Grab you a chair, if you aren't too dressed up for that," he tells the goldrider, leaning around to eye Viviana when she speaks up. But he doesn't say anything to the green weyrling, instead focusing back on his called-in weyrling. "Flights."
"One of the only ones in stores that would fit me. I wanted to look nice for the celebration, you know?" Lujayn's gray eyes sparkle as she turns to Viviana, one hand rising to touch a hairpin lightly. A more confident smile for the praise, gracefully ignoring the comment about goldriding. "You think so?" But Lujayn isn't here for girl chatter, a fact she's reminded of quickly enough when I'daur addresses the topic at hand. "Sir," The edge to her voice isn't nervous as she twists in her seat to face forward again, but not so laid-back as before. "What about them?"
Viviana smiles and nods her approval. "Just lovely.." She sighs as her fellow weyrling pays attention the the weyrlingmaster and returns back to her own work. "IF I don't get this finished, no party for me." Wriggling in her chair, then sitting up straight, she moves her writing tools so they line up perfectly then neatly arranges the hides as well. Not yet satisfied, she reaches around and places her jacket just so on her chair. Procrastination, thy name is Vivy.
"All about 'em," says I'daur, when Lujayn looks back to him. He looks at her, too, frowns, and finally digs around in a drawer until he pulls up a glass. "Have a drink," which he's already filling up, and shortly slides across the desk toward her. "You know anything already? You're one of the holder ones, ain't you?"
Lujayn nods, another smile of thanks for Viviana before I'daur starts to speak. Then she does her best to ignore the shuffling going on in the background, reaching to catch the glass as it slides. She holds it in cupped fingers for a moment, watching its contents slosh around. "Mostly Weyr," The weyrling confesses after a moment. "But I spent a lot of time out in holds, halls, all those places in between. Running." A short explanation, followed by a sip of whatever I'daur's poured for her. "I know that it's bound to happen, and that riders don't have much control over it from either end."
"Oh." I'daur looks a little more settled to find out he's at least somewhat wrong, and he nods slowly. It still requires another drink of the whiskey all the same. "Well, you know the deal, then," he decides. "Rise a few times, don't get any choice. Them's the important things. --Oh, yeah, 'n' don't let her eat."
Roll....drop.... shuffle shuffle. Viviana dives after a writing tool that drops off the desk and scrambles back to her place, smiling sheepishly. The pen stays in her hand as she silently reads what she has written, mouthing each word to herself in a painfully slow pantomine. Satisfied with the one line she has so far, she returns to her task. "No eating?" Oh yes,the dragons, she's smiles, reaassuring herself and crossing her feet at the ankles.
"Right," Lujayn nods dutifully, remembering to take another sip only after the weyrlingmaster does so. "Satiet talked a little about that, making sure she only gets the blood and doesn't weigh herself down." The background noise makes her pause, waiting for Viviana to settle herself before speaking again. "Is it hard? Making her blood?" No doubt Lu's thinking of her belligerent lifemate and the conflicts they find with one another even without mating lust complicating things.
I'daur repeats, "Satiet. Trespassing on my weyrling business?" Not that he seems particular enthusiastic about taking care of that business himself. Then, snorting at the latter question, he shrugs. "Hell if I know, you're asking me? Ask Satiet, you wanna know that--she'd know better'n me. 'M just here to tell you the mechanics of it."
Lujayn shrugs helplessly. "It's hard to avoid talking about it when we're working together so much. It just comes up; I didn't know you were so looking forward to telling me or I wouldn't have." She almost grins, but it's lost as she studies the desk before her and idly slides her drink from hand to hand. "I'll ask her, then. At least I don't have to deal with a dragon that rises every other sevenday." /There's/ the smile, daring to glance upwards. "Anything in particular I need to know?"
Viviana shoots a /look/ Lujayn's way. As if she needs to be reminded. Sniff! Scribble scribble scribble. As she works, she unconciously taps her foot against the leg of her chair, never quite in beat to any tune.
I'daur snorts again at that, head still shaking. Drink time again, slogging his way steadily through the bottle. "You wanna refill?" he asks Lujayn. "You?" A glance back at Viviana. Back to Lujayn. "Yeah, you go ask her," he encourages then; the idea seems to amuse him, too, siccing a weyrling back on the goldrider. "Seems she knows better'n me what you oughta know, same reason I get Persie and Moll talk to the green ones."
Lujayn is looking in just the right direction to catch that look, or else she had expected it to be there. A simple lift of her brows is all that's returned, alongside a little smile. That's just the way things are. "Er, sure," Her glass isn't yet half empty, but the weyrling slides it back to I'daur when asked. "So you're better at talking to the riders of male dragons? Do you have to tell them anything that's different from what you tell us?" Eyes flicking to Viviana to include the whole of gold- and greenriders. "Almost sounds like they have it easier. Just chase and maybe catch, don't worry about being proddy or blooding or eggs or anything else."
Viviana smirks right back at Lujayn but if her bright eyes looking toward the blood-shot eyes of her weyrlingmaster is any indication, she's interested in his answer. "Seems like they get all the fun but isn't that the way of the world?" Her essay is long forgotten, all two lines of it.
"That's why I'm better at doing them," drawls I'daur in response, one corner of his mouth twitching upward at Lujayn's words. "Course," he adds, with a glance around at Viviana, "you always get to win, so that's something, yeah?"
"We always /have/ to win," Lujayn corrects. "No choice in that." She actually shifts her chair to one side, so that Viviana isn't just a voice somewhere off behind her. "Maybe it'll be fun, I just don't know that much about it. What it's like. Rielsath's not too interested in getting males to notice her, so I don't even get it watered down yet."
Lujayn's distinction is one that seems lost on I'daur, who just shrugs along with her and moves on. "Don't know that it's much of anything, really. Wouldn't call it fun, win or lose, but it's fine, anyway. 'N' don't worry, they're young yet for that--'specially her being a gold. They always do mature later."
Viviana gathers her papers together and clunks down to Persie's little cubby, dropping the 'essay' in the woman's mail slot. Clunking back to her chair, the weyrling grabs her jacket, heading for the door. "Like they keep drilling in us, it's all about the dragons but I hope I get my first kiss before she gets her first flight..." She darts into the cold of the bowl with a shiver not born of the chill.
Viviana strolls into the bowl.
Viviana has left.
Lujayn watches Viviana dash out, looking very much as if she'd like to do the same, but stays in her seat. "Will I know it's coming, at least? It won't just jump out at me?" Far from reassured.
Dragon> Zunaeth senses that Rielsath is bright, possibly too curious on this occasion. Flashing spots of sunlight that leave shadows when they fade: << Is it fun? >> She doesn't quite understand, and neither can she find the right questions to ask.
Zunaeth> Rielsath senses that Zunaeth ponders that a moment, his mind slowly heating up as he works up his answer. << Not exactly, >> he decides, << but I like it anyway. >>
"Maybe?" I'daur, much like Lujayn, looks like dashing off (or hobbling off, in his case) would be preferable to this; he slogs on anyway. "Some of 'em give you warning, some of 'em not so much. They glow, though, before, and you know when they oughta be getting close, usually. Males usually know even if nobody else can tell, anyway, so try watchin' them, maybe."
Dragon> Zunaeth senses that Rielsath helps with that heating up by adding a cast of sunlight, curiosity forming into a rare patience about the subject. << It sounds like a game. >> All those dragons chasing each other around, what fun!
Dragon> Drolly amused by that interpretation, Zunaeth agrees, << Sure, you wanna think of it like that. One big serious game. >> (Zunaeth to Rielsath)
Lujayn looks slightly relieved. "Glowing, all right." If other girls have questions about boys and what happens afterward, they must have asked enough to pass it on to the gold weyrling before she can ask. "What if it makes me all funny, too? If it's her telling me what I should do instead of the other way around." This little worry, losing control, is more than just a passing fear. Lu's gaze burns holes in the desk before her, memorizing the grain.
"Maybe you should talk to Satiet," I'daur suggests again, rather delicately passing the buck along again. "An' do your best to keep your head--proddy don't mean crazy, whatever it does to you. Can't tell you much more'n that, though. Just know it from my end."
Lujayn listens. At last her smile is grim. There are no more questions, only a surplus of thoughts to taunt her. "Ask Satiet, why not?" She finally rises, picking a speck from her dress before donning the jacket for her trek back across the bowl. "Have a nice turn's end." Lu remembers to give some sort of farewell, allowing herself to vanish from the training room in a hurrying of hairpins and bare ankles.
"Yeah, you too," I'daur drawls in reply to Lujayn as she leaves. Then he's free to resume his drinking in earnest, now that that little bit of awkwardness is done with.