[Log] It's My Job to Protect You
Who: E'sere, T'zen
When: Day 13, Month 8, Turn 1, 7th Pass
Where: E'sere and Morelenth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
What: E'sere invites T'zen over for a drink and a chat with his newest rider.
Morelenth> To Uneth: Morelenth's mind is warm and friendly, sending an image of a particular ledge high on the bowl wall. << Uneth, my rider would like to speak with yours, here at our ledge. >>
Morelenth> Uneth seems to raise himself from the grey depths of slumber. << I will tell him. >> A moment later. << Now? >>
Morelenth> To Uneth: Morelenth, firmly, agrees, << Yes, now, please. >>
Morelenth> Uneth projects promptly << We come. >>
Morelenth's Ledge
This narrow ledge is longer than it is wide, fanning out on either side of the entrance into the weyr. The stone has been deeply scored by the passage of countless dragons over the turns. Its location is optimal; natural outcroppings of the bowl wall keep the wind from raking the ledge's surface and the sun reaches the rock to heat it for most of the day.
The clear summer sky has been hidden behind a dense wall of clouds. They aren't dark enough yet to threaten a storm but the air has grown humid and heavy.
Contents:
E'sere
Morelenth
Sky
Below, Uneth circles a moment just outside the weyr until he's certain it's the right one, and then wings in for a landing. T'zen quickly unstraps and slides down. His hair is a bit ruffled.. obviously was sleeping.
T'zen climbs down from Uneth's neck.
T'zen has arrived.
Enyoying the last rays of late summer sunlight, Morelenth stretches out on the large ledge, raising his head to rumble a greeting to the blue. E'sere stands at the back of the ledge, by the large, dark opening ot the interior. He smiles as Uneth lands. "T'zen, evening. Come in, please--I hope Morelenth didn't interrupt you? My dragon has no manners," he welcomes T'zen apologetically, noting the state of the rider's appearance.
T'zen pushes back his hair, which doesn't really help. "Ah, no, sir, no sir. No problem at all." He approaches the wingleader. "What do I owe this pleasure, sir?" Uneth warbles a greeting back at the bronze, and settles where he is to enjoy the last rays of said sun.
E'sere gives Morelenth a suspicious look, perhaps not trusting T'zen's reassures. However, shrugging it off, he turns to lead the way into the weyr's interior. Inside, E'sere's weyr is laid out like any other weyr, dragon couch at the fore and rider quarters at the back. Some degree of caretaken some care in choosing furnishings: rich wooden desk and chair to one side, a small seating area with matching padded chairs, a large bed at the back. Expensive-looking tapestries shield the weyr from the chill emanating from the stone walls. "How are you adjusting to the wing, T'zen?" asks the wingleader as he gestures invitingly to the chairs. "Would you like something to drink? I've a Tillek vintage that is, for that region, quite good." Already, he's stepping over to the desk to remove the bottle.
T'zen follows E'sere inside, looking around pensively at the furnishings. "Drink, yes, thank you, Wingleader." His eyes lay on the tapestries for a moment, before finding E'sere again. "The wing! Yessir, doing well. I think I'm picking up your patterns," is his quick response to the question, exuding quickly forged confidence.
Pouring the wine into a pair of glasses, E'sere steps over to join T'zen, settling into one of his chairs easily after offering one of the glasses to the bluerider. His own he sips slowly, the bottle set aside on the table. "I'm glad to hear it," he tells T'zen lightly. "The mechanics of Flight 3 are somewhat different from Flight 2's--we're not quite so agile, though your Uneth has certainly helped the wing on that front. Are you /enjoying/ your time with us?" A questioning brow arches.
T'zen seems pleased at the comment about Uneth, and accepts the glass from E'sere. "Thank you, sir." He takes another chair and sits. Holding the glass in his hands without drink yet, he nods. "Yessir, the tactics are a bit different. But Une and I learn quickly." At "enjoy", he pauses, finally taking a sip out of the glass. "Enjoy? Yessir. It's good to be up in the air." Another sip, and his eyes drop to the glass in front of him. "I'm rather hoping I'zul and 3C are done.. sir."
"You mentioned," E'sere notes slowly, thoughtfully, glancing down at the glass in his hand and twirling it slowly, "when you first asked me about flying with 2C, that you might like an official transfer?" The words have a questioning lilt, and the young wingleader glances up at his rider then, brows knitted lightly.
T'zen looks back up at E'sere, ice-blue eyes intense. "Yes, sir, I did." He pauses, "You indicated I needed to speak with Weyrleader G'thon." Leaning forward, he adds quickly, "I intend to do that."
E'sere nods slowly, offering a small smile to the bluerider opposite him. "Yes, I thought that you might. I'm glad you've enjoyed flying with us enough to do so permanently. It will... It will be some time before 3C is ready to fly again, so I think the Weyrleader will be willing to grant your request," he agrees, sipping his drink. Then, lowering it again, he begins, "The Wingleader I'zul..." But he shakes his head, doesn't finish. Instead, he says, "3C will fly again, but it will be a very different wing when it does."
T'zen sits back in his chair, eyes wide. "He will?" But he quickly hides the surprise. "Of course he will." He takes a big swig of his wine. "It will be a good day when I'zul's out of 3C." Title notably missing. But then T'zen looks concerned. "But where will the Weyrleader put him? He's not going to be set over another wing, is he? He don't believe he's innocent, does he?"
T'zen's brief surprise is met with a broadening smile on E'sere's face, the bronzerider not fooled by his feigned confidence. However, the other rider's latter words still him, smile fading into a thoughtful frown aimed again at the drink. "I don't know. I don't know what the Weyrleader believes, or what he will do about those beliefs. I am not involved enough myself to be privy to the details of the incident." Voice regretful, he gives T'zen a quick, rather expectant glance.
T'zen visibly wilts as he thinks about the events. "It was a big one, that Fall. We were all pretty intent on what we was doin'. Pelth sent the order. He says relayed, but I'm sure he sent it. We all turned. Followed blindly right into a wall o'Thread. I don't know much what happened after that. M'tello and Roosteth got it broadside. Shredded mid-air, they was. After that, it was just Une and me. Every dragon for themselves.. till we were clear enough and getting orders again to regroup." He laughs without mirth. "Regroup, shards. Wasn't no 'group' after that."
"I'm sorry," E'sere answers quietly. "I didn't mean to dredge up painful memories. It was... it wasn't a pleasant 'Fall for any of us, but especially you." Silent, swirling the remainder of his wine, he shakes his head slowly. "You think the wingleader sent the order himself. Why? Surely... a mistake? On someone's part?" The look he turns on T'zen is almost hopeful, though in his eyes lies the resignation that it is probably a false hope.
T'zen grimaces. "A mistake he lived from. I'zul's always given me the shivers. Bronzes are mighty powerful dragons, but I swears Uneth coulda outlasted Pelth any day, and not just 'cause Une's good at what he does. I wouldn'ta thought twice had he ridden into the Thread himself." He finishes his glass, and wipes his mouth. "But whatever people say, I know one thing f'sure. None of us are following him out there." He emphasizes with a finger pointing out of the weyr. "Une and I, we handled it, and we can handle it again, but I've not a mind to fly into fire when we can put it out properly-like."
E'sere nods at that. "He is... well. 'Creepy' comes to mind," agrees the man, his smile wry and humorless. "I don't know him well myself. I would never have thought him inexperienced enough to make a mistake like that--or even our flight leader Ch'dais, though he's younger than /I/ am. But I can't imagine any rider--any person--would be cruel enough to massacre an entire wing like that. The Weyr is in a right old state, isn't it?" he says heavily.
T'zen nods darkly, "Aye, it is." And then, remembering to add a respectful "Sir." He shakes his head. "I've never understood him. So I don't see it as crazy to think he's got somethin' up his mind." He gives E'sere a look, as though he were letting in on some great secret, "Maybe it wasn't 3C he was after, eh? Maybe it was a /failed/ plan, eh?"
E'sere's brows arch at those words. "A failed plan. I certainly hope this wasn't the result he anticipated," he notes with a shake of his head, frowning. "Perhaps he overestimated the... amount of Thread in your path. Perhaps he hoped to... play the hero, I don't know. But he bit off more than he could chew, and the wing paid the difference. It's unfortunate what some men's ambition will drive them to--it's usually those around them who suffer more for it."
T'zen attempts to take another sip of his wine, but his glass is empty. He peers at it. "S'why I look out for myself, sir," he quips. But then looks up, eyes wide. "But there's no problem in your wing, sir. All's well- ready and willin' to follow your lead, sir."
Quickly, E'sere reaches for the bottle of Tillek. "A refill?" he asks his rider then, half-standing to fill the glass once more. He's still nursing at the same half-finished glass himself as he resettles, nodding. "It's not a bad philosophy," he tells T'zen. "Though it's a shame it's so vital. I've always tried to do right by my wing--I hate returning after 'Fall, knowing who has died, who's been injured. It's my job to protect you."
T'zen hands over his glasses, nodding, "Thank you, sir, just a little." He finally cracks a grin on his face. "Don't see myself having a philosophy, sir. Jes' stayin' alive." He nods, listening openly to E'sere. "I believe you, sir. 'Tis one reason why I'm looking to switch up wings. Never knew what it was like flying under a wingleader what was looking out for us."
E'sere, after refilling the glass, smiles again for the first time in a while. "I wouldn't know any other way to run a wing myself, although I didn't have the opportunity to really serve under a true wingleader. I went straight from weyrlinghood to the Caucus and then to being a wingleader. When you speak to the Weyrleader, let him know I'd be happy to have you join us permanently," he notes.
T'zen nods eagerly, accepting the filled glass. "I will, Wingleader E'sere, I will." After another sip, he regards the wingleader thoughtfully. "Beg pardon, sir.. what'd you think of Caucus?"
E'sere, his brows arching, leans back, tapping fingers idly along the side of his glass as he regards T'zen. "The Caucs. It serves its purpose, I think," he answers slowly. "It's brought quite a lot of recognition to the Reaches, and, having been through its programs myself, I know it can teach important lessons, if one lets it. Unfortunately, not everyone does."
T'zen listens, sipping his wine, and nods. "It's made the weyr a bit crowded at times, if you know what I mean," he offers. Uneth out on the ledge trumpets to a passing dragon. "Brings some odd folks in, I think."
"I think I do," agrees E'sere with a nod. "The people... What else can one expect from them? They're the privileged--Blooded, promising young crafters, future Weyrleaders." Nevermind he can be counted among them. "They can afford to be a little... eccentric."
T'zen laughs, slapping a knee. "Eccentric! Aye! 'Specially some o' them golds that've been coming in. Crazy!" He eyes the remainder of his wine, grinning. "I tell you. Heard one talking about how Thread's supposed to be good. Can ya believe that? And another. Whew. She talks to her food, she does." Yes, he does appear a touch rosy in the cheeks. And only a little over a full glass of wine.
E'sere grins outright at T'zen's laughter. "Oh? Which one was this?" he wonders, bemused himself. "Talking to her food, that is strange. I thought people outgrew that by the time they were this age? I've only seen little children talking to their peas over dinner."
T'zen tips the rest of his glass, and chuckles. "'Woman Bresis. And.. an'er dragon too. Says 'heyya beasty, thanks for being my meal' and wham!" He snickers at the thought. "It just.. makes me wonder what goes on at Caucus, with all that, y'know?"
E'sere's brows arch. "Weyrwoman Bresis, I met her shortly after she arrived. She seemed... Mm." He doesn't finish, either in agreement or rebuttal. Instead: "It makes me wonder myself--in my day, we didn't do things like that. I've sat in on a couple of classes of the Headmaster's, but they were... normal."
T'zen shrugs. "Came outta her own mouth. And Uneth heard her gold." He sets the empty glass down, and stands, momentarily forgetting why he was here. "Well, 'twas a great visit, Wingleader. I'll have to stop by again sometime." Uneth snorts, peering back inside. He sniffs at the air. "Hey Une, you smell somethin' cookin'?"
E'sere grins again, nodding. Standing himself, he notes, "Yes, you're welcome to stop by anytime you need something, T'zen, or have Uneth speak to Morelenth. I like to know how you're doing." He offers a hand to shake to the bluerider.
T'zen takes the hand and shakes, before making a nearly straight line back to his dragon. "Will do, will do, Wingleader." He climbs up Uneth's straps. "Whew. I need a nap." The blue dragon merely looks amused, and warbles a farewell to the bronze nearby.
T'zen climbs up onto Uneth's neck.
T'zen has left.
"Good day, T'zen," E'sere says as T'zen exits, lifting a hand in a wave before returning to work. Morelenth echoes his rider's words with a parting rumble himself.