[Log] Weyrlinghood Pains
Who: Gay, Tiriana
When: Day 6, Month 10, Turn 16
Where: Lakeshore, Telgar Weyr
What: Tiriana and Gay catch up again.
Lake Shore, Telgar Weyr
The vegetation thickens near the lake, becoming a meadow that runs along the edge of a narrow, sandy beach. The sands spill down into a crystal lake to the north, lapping against the crater walls to the north and east. A fence runs northwest-southeast, blocking off the lake from the feeding grounds. The grass is thick with autumn, and the long strands are beginning to seed. The few trees that stand on the banks of the lake are in their full splendor with leaves of red, gold, and brown. In one corner of the meadow, Telgar's herb garden makes the air thick with the smell of mint, thyme and chive. The light of the morning sun spills over the eastern rim of the bowl, and sets the lake sparkling and shining like a giant mirror.
The afternoon is obscured by grey clouds. A sleety mixture of rain and snow falls in heavy sheets. A definite wind can be felt and the fall air is cold. The ground is icy beneath your feet.
Contents:
Gay
Liabeth
Uesarth
Obvious exits:
Bowl Weyrgardens
Scrub scrub. Pretty much all the other weyrlings are done by now and clearing off the lake for a little free time. Only those with very big or very particular dragons are left, and Tiriana, lucky her, has both. Lagging well behind most of the others, she's currently not even washing Iovniath, but rather standing back a couple of feet with her hands on her hips. "What's wrong with it? What is your--hell. And yes, I will too say that. So hell!" Tiriana declares, glaring at the dragon as their internal argument spills over.
Liabeth lifts into the air from the feeding grounds and angles over to the lake in a slow, graceful glide. When she lands on the shore, folding translucent wings, it takes her some time to settle herself just /so/ - and even then, it's only to let an impatient Gay off before her swim to rinse the blood from her muzzle. As she lumbers into the water at her usual stately pace, she rumbles towards the smaller gold in greeting. For her rider's part, Gay just looks amused - particularly as she overhears Tiriana's last words. "I say 'hell'," she says helpfully. "But Liabeth doesn't like it much either."
"Hell, hell, hell," says Tiriana emphatically, before adopting a triumphant smirk because Iovniath is no longer paying attention to her--apparently, this too is a victory for Tiriana. But the young gold is watching the older one land and wade into the water instead. << Dam, >> she greets, her voice crystalline today, an echo of her mother's gemtones. << Won't you join us? >> Tiriana is less polite, more brusque, as she shoots a surprised look around at Liabeth. "Oh. Hi," she says, blinking. "Doesn't like--oh. Yeah." Almost sheepishly, she reaches up to rub her neck, grimacing.
<< Of course, though I may have to swim deeper. >> There's a lot of Liabeth to get into the lake. If the older queen likewise disapproves of language, she doesn't indicate it to either rider - though for Iovniath, the ruby darkens with the weariness, the sense of repeated discussion. On the shore, Gay blinks at Tiriana and says quickly, "Oh, I didn't mean, like stop. Just meant that she doesn't like it either, but she's mostly good s'long as I don't do it in meetings. And I mostly manage that." Mostly. "She not clean in the right way?" A quirk of a smile; she's been /there/.
<< Perhaps, >> agrees Iovniath, with a cool gust of air, her amusement. << Though soon I'll be able to join /you/ instead. >> And Tiriana, of course, has to interject, "I'm not stopping because of you. Really." Beat. She glances sideways back at Iovniath and then edges over toward her again, apparently intending to resume her interrupted washing. "Yeah, something like that," the girl agrees then, with a wrinkle of her nose. "What are you doing out here?" As though Liabeth in the water wasn't clue enough.
Liabeth images the lake overfull, herself with an equally big Iovniath and Aleith all at once - but the lake isn't actually all /that/ small. Warmer now; << I will enjoy that - and when you can fly. > > But for now, the gold will dive, as she's still looking a little like a diner without a napkin. With a glance for the weyrling dragon, Gay nods. "Ah, right. Okay. And aren't I usually out here? A little less while you guys are bathing and back an' forth all the time. But /this/ time, she's rinsing off the blood. I'll have to wash her later." For once tactful, she doesn't mention she'll be doing in /inside/. "How're things?"
To that, Iovniath only answers, << Soon. >> Her voice ices over, but not completely smoothly; she doesn't quite glass over all the typical weyrling impatience with the waiting. "I guess so," Tiriana agrees with Gay then, snorting as she gets back to work scrubbing at Iovniath's hide, admittedly rather lackadaisically now. "'D figure you had something better to do. I know /I/ do. But she's all--. She takes /forever/."
Liabeth shows Iovniath the view from the depths of the lake as she swims - and has the grace not to notice the impatience now frozen beneath the ice. << It is a difficult wait. >> Gay's got her hands in her pockets now, attention idly shifting between the gold out in the lake and the pair in the shallows. Lips quirking in amusement from either Tiriana's marked lack of enthusiasm or her complaining, she allows, "I likely do. But she wanted me to watch her go kill things - which is always a joy, yeah? - and then she wanted a rinse. Might get a little while in my weyr to do some work before the bathing Must Begin. But I was out in the caverns earlier, so not like I'm slackin' off too much. What's on your schedule?"
Dark auburn lashes frame her sea-green eyes and against the pallette of her fair skin a spray of light freckles across her nose gives her a very youthful appearance. Long auburn hair falls in a tumble to her mid-back when it's not braided or otherwise restrained, the tresses wavy and somewhat free-spirited in appearance. Her frame is slender and toned though bearing decided feminine curves, more sleek than muscular.
Iovniath tries not to sound ruffled by the waiting, but while the fog gliding in over that ice and impatience hides them, it probably makes it only more conspicuous through absence. << There is enough to practice in the meantime, >> she answers. And Tiriana queries, snorting, "My schedule?" She rolls her eyes. "The same as ever. Wash her, oil her, sit in more stupid boring lessons about stuff we already know. It's so--it's stupid, is what it is. Waste of my time. I could be doing the /interesting/ stuff. Like you." Scowling, she pauses, glancing back to Gay."
<< There is, >> Liabeth allows in her husky tones, with eddies of sapphire calm and contentment. << But we are meant to fly. >> Gay is less apt to be soothing, so it's little surprise that she points out, "Not everyone knows all of it. An' I bet you didn't really pay that much attention to like, physiology with your family's dragons. Plus, everyone's got to do the same stuff, no matter what they know. It's The Way It Works." With capitals, even. Giving a snort, "Interesting. Right. Whatever. I was like, mediating some dumbass dispute in the kitchens, then checking inventory. Good times." She twirls a finger in the air, looking unimpressed.
"Well, not like I /need/ to know it," Tiriana points out. "I mean, I'm not a dragonhealer, don't want to be. That's why we /have/ them, so I don't have to do it myself." Pause. Pursing her lips, she gives Iovniath another scrub-over, more fiercely. "Sounds better than what /we/ do. We just--it's /boring/. And nobody listens to me. It's not supposed to be like this."
Gay finds a rock to ease herself onto, her knees pulled up, arms crossed over them. Blowing a curl from her eyes, "You need t'know what's wrong so you can tell the dragonhealer - if you're just like 'there in the wing', it's not gonna help much." Watching Tiriana scrub, lips curving into a brief, amused grin, "What's it supposed to be like, then? I'm curious."
Again, Tiriana snorts. "Not a very good dragonhealer, then," she notes with a distasteful curl of her lip, "if they can't figure it out on their own. Might as well just go ahead and learn the rest of it, heal her myself." Grumbling, she frowns at the dragon, pauses to lean against Iovniath's shoulder. With a frustrated gesture with one hand, she shrugs then. "It's supposed to be--different. I am somebody. I shouldn't--I shouldn't... It's just supposed to be /different/. Better." Unable to really describe what she expected, she shrugs again and scowls.
"I actually don't know much of it. Don't have the patience, or the hand for it. Too worried I'll like, manage to make 'em worse for the 'healing'." Gay's content with that, by her tone, looking out to Liabeth, who's now just floating idly in the lake, blissfully weightless. "But you could learn it. An' till you're graduated, you're a weyrling. Even though you're meant t'be in position right off, it doesn't mean you get to skip the stuff that sucks. There's plenty that sucks with the job - good doesn't always balance out the bad."
Confidently, "I could do it," claims Tiriana, with a nod to emphasize that fact. "I could do it just fine. It can't be /hard/." She sniffs, and after working around Iovniath's side a little further, apparently completes her washing and wades toward the shore and Gay. "So?" she counters the elder goldrider's latter words. "The stuff that sucks, not like you /really/ have to do that. That's what you have, like, the headwoman and the people like Olwyn for." Tiriana, notably, does not put her name on that list.
Gay agrees, "You probably could. But it's hard to have a life in your hands. Two, maybe." That's noted lightly, without much weight. With another amused grin for Tiriana, the goldrider does have to point out, "Olwyn and Juliri and you, now. Even if I gave ya'll most of the stuff that's annoying or boring, there'd still be a lot I gotta do on my own. Like meet with people that are obnoxious. Or dull. Listen to complaining. Things like that. Where the want to talk to like, the Weyrwoman or Weyrleader an' nothing else will make 'em happy."
"I'm not doing your hidework," just in case Gay's got that in her mind. Tiriana gives her a briefly dubious look as she heads over to her own rock and sprawls on it. "Meeting with people, though--how's /that/ bad? I mean, you can tell them off and do what you want, and s'not like they can do a thing about it. /That's/ what it's supposed to be like." She nods sagely then.
Lazily, "Naw, you'll have your own." Gay flashes one of her brilliant smiles over to the sprawled Tiriana, stretching out her own long legs, crossing them and leaning back on her hands. "Can't tell off Holders an' do what you want, especially now. Because they can do a thing about it. They can stop sending you stuff. Or they can try to send it to someone else, but I doubt that'll happen again. Anyway, there's a certain amount of telling-off that can be done, but not at the expense of supplies, yeah?"
Tiriana sniffs. "I need an assistant," she complains already, with a shake of her head. But to the latter, she only sighs. "Yeah, sure," agrees the girl, unenthusiastic. "Think they can get away with anything these days. And of course it has to happen /now/, too. I impress, Thread stops again."
"It'd be nice. Might not be a bad idea. But delegation only goes so far - sadly." Gay does sound a little sad about that; it's not like she ever looks that thrilled with her hidework, or inventory. "And some of 'em do - maybe not as much any more, but it pays to be /nice/ - if not for us, for everyone who's gotta do this after. If Thread ends." With a bit of a blink for Tiriana's last, she just shakes her head with a bounce of curls. "I'd rather have the issues with Interval than 'fall, I think." Liabeth has begun to swim back in, and Gay glances out, noting, "Think that's my cue. If it gets worse than boring, you'll let me know?"
Tiriana is shaking her head even before Gay gets all that out. "No way," she differs, with a grimace. "Fall--then you get to /do/ something. Go fight. Not just sit around and listen to holders whine about how they just can't afford to support you these days, or whatever it is they try to pull on us every time." But when Gay mentions leaving, she frowns at Iovniath herself, lips pursing. "Yeah, probably should go, too," she notes, pushing back up to her feet. "Yeah, I'll tell you all right."
Gay pauses and actually considers that, uncharacteristically taking a few moments of silence. "Maybe you have a point," she says, eventually. "Even so, less people maimed an' dying. But better to burn out? Who knows." With a grin to take the edge of seriousness off her darker musings, she slides from her rock, nodding easily. "I know you will. Good luck with the oiling. Takes forever too. I used t'be a mess every time too." Grimacing, she shudders and goes to pull herself on Liabeth; the older gold gives a quiet rumble to Iovniath, then takes off for the springs.