Cleaning Up The Mess
Location: J'lor and Vellath's Weyr
Time: Late Afternoon on Day 26, Month 10, Turn 2
Players: D'rian and J'lor
Scene: A weyrling checks in on the weyrlingmaster.
Vellath and J'lor's Weyr
The cavern is set high on the cliff wall and offers a sparing ledge that is adequate enough for a blue dragon but would prove cramped for the larger colors. The inner weyr is equally modest and allows enough room for a mattress piled high with furs and a roughly hewn desk and chair. A woven rug, the colors dulled and the cloth threadbare, is spread out on the floor. A newer and more brightly colored weaving hangs on one of the walls, and if it is novicely made, it is at least cheerful. The only other decoration is a single hide posted up on the stone wall next to the mattress. It is crinkled with age, the worn image depicting a rider and a blue dragon with color and markings clearly intended to be Vellath's. The drawing looks to be done in a child's hand.
J'lor's weyr is usually cluttered, but at the moment it's an actual mess. Sheets are in the corner, blanket hangs half in the weyr and half on the ledge. Hides are scattered everywhere, the chair that belongs to the desk is overturned and one of the desk's rickety drawers lies on its side, contents splayed out in and drifting. Other items lie in various heaps, a few broken, many just angled oddly as if set there (or thrown) with little care. Lying on a patch of bare floor, hands clasped on his belly, blinking up at the ceiling, is J'lor. Despite the mess, the rider is calm as he studies the stone above him. Vellath is not on the ledge, but as the blue has not left Chiavelth's side since she returned, that may be of little surprise.
D'rian's arrival is as quiet as his initial greeting, the young man's eyes dart nervously around the whole of the ransacked looking weyr and pin finally on the bluerider. "J'lor?" A hesitant step further into the weyr has his foot coming into contact with one of J'lor's broken belongings, and he hastily drops to a knee to reclaim it before uncertainly holding it in his hands. "I came to see how you were."
His head lifts at his name, eyes blinking distractedly as his head turns towards the sound. Those eyes are red. Bloodshot. But dry. The bluerider pushes himself up into a sit, clearing his throat and looking, for a moment, embarrassed as he glances around at the disaster he's made of his home. "D'rian. Come in. I'm...I'll be all right. And you? And Taikath? How are the pair of you faring?" He inches forward, shoving items out of the way to clear another spot of floor so the boy has a place to sit.
"J'lor-" D'rian, so quick to rise, to pick his way past the mayhem of the bluerider's weyr, sets the item he'd retrieved earlier aside and to settle down beside J'lor with a pained expression for the other man. "I'll pick this up for you. Don't worry about it." A taut smile gives way to, "Are you really alright?" All questions on his end are neatly sidestepped.
"You'll do nothing of the sort. I made the mess, I clean it." D'rian is given a small smile. "No, I'm not really all right," the bluerider admits "but pretending I am helps, I think, to get me all right faster. Tell me about Taikath."
"He wandered away from me a few days ago, while I was sleeping. He likes to get out and explore like that, by himself. At night, when I dream, I see things from him. He likes to share. He's growing fast." D'rian finds an excuse to neaten up the items nearest him while he talks, timing it to each of the points he shares about Taikath, "Pretending doesn't help, I don't think. Talking does. Someone said that to me." He tests another smile on J'lor, but it's soon gone, "What was Vellath like when you first impressed?"
The bluerider gives a small snort of frustration at the memory of a hatchling Vellath. "He was a nightmare," J'lor admits. "He wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't practice anything assigned. He questioned everything I did and seemed to be contrary just for spite. It took me a full half a turn to figure him out." His brown eyes watch as D'rian straightens. "And recently?" the rider queries. "Has Chiavelth's return...is he coping? Are you?"
"Taikath's different. He doesn't share, doesn't ask. Just watches. He's quiet," D'rian squares away the other side of his knee, finding excuse there to not look at the bluerider while he shares, "He knows something has happened. Some of his dreams are strange, and I try to forget them so he won't ask what they are. He's fine. I'm fine," A pinch at the corner of his eye might say otherwise, "I'm worried though, about you." D'rian finally looks back J'lor's way, "Is she going to be okay?"
"She's going to heal, physically. The rest...she's strong. She'll survive, but I cannot imagine she won't in some way be changed. What she experienced..." the bluerider shakes his head slowly. "There aren't really any words for how such things will change you." He blinks slowly and asks, "He doesn't share? That's...unusual for a hatchling. Most of the time, the trouble is that they share too much."
D'rian nods, slowly, "She's strong," he confirms, fussing with setting an upended cup right side up, "I don't think anyone is going to be the same. Her especially. I-" D'rian's tongue darts out, licks his lips then, "I feel bad." Quicker still is the detour from the Cassiel-related topic, "He doesn't. He's quiet. But he's always watching. Sometimes, when I ask him... he's smart, J'lor. Real smart."
"He seems it. Thoughtful. Cautious. Very, very careful, your Taikath." But J'lor doesn't allow such detours for very long. He'll steer the conversation back to harder issues with the next question. "Why do you feel bad?" Emphasis on 'you'.
"Can't even walk without thinking twice about it," D'rian confirms with a serious tone. More regretful is, "The last time I talked to her...I didn't talk to her." At her. Through her. M'uri's son, acting as though greenriders weren't anything more then bed warmers.
"Maybe, then, that's something you might like to say to her," J'lor offers gently, "when she's feeling up to visitors. I think it's something she might like to hear."
"No," D'rian shakes his head and settles his hands in his lap, "I can't." He clears his throat, "She'll be alright, like you said, and we'll figure out what to do. We should focus on that."
There is a small nod, as if the bluerider might accept this. But, his words betray that suggestion. "D'rian, I'm not...entirely sure that she's going to feel very much like an actual person for a little while. It would be a good thing, if you might be willing to help with that. To speak to her. Why can't you?" The last is gentle. Curious.
"M'uri," D'rian says at last, "He spoke with me after she came back. Wanted to know what we'd seen, what we'd heard." D'rian says nothing more on that end, looking to J'lor with expectancy.
"And you think, if you speak with her, he'll take it from you?" J'lor studies D'rian silently, eyes flicking to the boy's face.
"She's a greenrider," D'rian says, "Female. It's bad what happened to her, but she's a greenrider." D'rian's words are rehearsed, as though repeated after hearing them himself a number of times, "You don't speak to them." He doesn't continue, only pushes up and moves to another spot of the weyr to begin cleaning. Told not to or otherwise, he is all the same.
"Oh," says J'lor simply. "And while I do appreciate M'uri's opinion on the topic, I'm actually asking for yours."
D'rian cleans in silence, working for a few solid seconds before responding. "I don't know how. She's not a person, she's a greenrider." D'rian's blunt admission that's now tinged with shame. Turning with an empty drawer in hand, D'rian says, "I meant to come sooner, but Taikath kept me busy. I'll bring you dinner, if you'd like. Once I finish cleaning."
"I'll get my own dinner, and I'll see to my own cleaning. D'rian. Please. Sit. You're making me edgy, and I'd like to talk about greenriders a bit more." The bluerider leans forward, hands clasping in his lap.
D'rian rebels just long enough to set the drawer in it's proper place before returning to his spot and settling back down, "I don't, J'lor." A look at the man falls away soon after, "Worry about her. Let me worry about you."
"I worry about everyone," J'lor chuckles softly. "Her. You. The other weyrlings, female greenriding ones included. Talk to her, D'rian. Or talk to Shanti. Or Riseli. Or Gananye. Just, for the moment, pretend." Another wry smile. "Pretend you are speaking to a person, and act as if you are. And see what comes of it. This is...somewhat important."
"I'll try," D'rian says with a small nod, "It won't work, but I'll try." Pessimistic by choice, he attempts a smile, "I'll try and talk to her, too."
"Thank you, D'rian. That means a great deal to me, and I appreciate it." One hand lifts to settle on the boy's shoulder and give it a squeeze. "And thank you. For visiting."
"Is it alright if I stop by later? Taikath says he'd like to see you again." D'rian stands and looks down at the bluerider, awaiting his answer before leaving.
"You're always welcome," is the quiet reply J'lor offers. "I should hope you'd know that by now."
D'rian's smile is his reply, a nod thrown in for good measure, then he's slipping down past the exit and retreating to the weyrling clearing.
Time: Late Afternoon on Day 26, Month 10, Turn 2
Players: D'rian and J'lor
Scene: A weyrling checks in on the weyrlingmaster.
Vellath and J'lor's Weyr
The cavern is set high on the cliff wall and offers a sparing ledge that is adequate enough for a blue dragon but would prove cramped for the larger colors. The inner weyr is equally modest and allows enough room for a mattress piled high with furs and a roughly hewn desk and chair. A woven rug, the colors dulled and the cloth threadbare, is spread out on the floor. A newer and more brightly colored weaving hangs on one of the walls, and if it is novicely made, it is at least cheerful. The only other decoration is a single hide posted up on the stone wall next to the mattress. It is crinkled with age, the worn image depicting a rider and a blue dragon with color and markings clearly intended to be Vellath's. The drawing looks to be done in a child's hand.
J'lor's weyr is usually cluttered, but at the moment it's an actual mess. Sheets are in the corner, blanket hangs half in the weyr and half on the ledge. Hides are scattered everywhere, the chair that belongs to the desk is overturned and one of the desk's rickety drawers lies on its side, contents splayed out in and drifting. Other items lie in various heaps, a few broken, many just angled oddly as if set there (or thrown) with little care. Lying on a patch of bare floor, hands clasped on his belly, blinking up at the ceiling, is J'lor. Despite the mess, the rider is calm as he studies the stone above him. Vellath is not on the ledge, but as the blue has not left Chiavelth's side since she returned, that may be of little surprise.
D'rian's arrival is as quiet as his initial greeting, the young man's eyes dart nervously around the whole of the ransacked looking weyr and pin finally on the bluerider. "J'lor?" A hesitant step further into the weyr has his foot coming into contact with one of J'lor's broken belongings, and he hastily drops to a knee to reclaim it before uncertainly holding it in his hands. "I came to see how you were."
His head lifts at his name, eyes blinking distractedly as his head turns towards the sound. Those eyes are red. Bloodshot. But dry. The bluerider pushes himself up into a sit, clearing his throat and looking, for a moment, embarrassed as he glances around at the disaster he's made of his home. "D'rian. Come in. I'm...I'll be all right. And you? And Taikath? How are the pair of you faring?" He inches forward, shoving items out of the way to clear another spot of floor so the boy has a place to sit.
"J'lor-" D'rian, so quick to rise, to pick his way past the mayhem of the bluerider's weyr, sets the item he'd retrieved earlier aside and to settle down beside J'lor with a pained expression for the other man. "I'll pick this up for you. Don't worry about it." A taut smile gives way to, "Are you really alright?" All questions on his end are neatly sidestepped.
"You'll do nothing of the sort. I made the mess, I clean it." D'rian is given a small smile. "No, I'm not really all right," the bluerider admits "but pretending I am helps, I think, to get me all right faster. Tell me about Taikath."
"He wandered away from me a few days ago, while I was sleeping. He likes to get out and explore like that, by himself. At night, when I dream, I see things from him. He likes to share. He's growing fast." D'rian finds an excuse to neaten up the items nearest him while he talks, timing it to each of the points he shares about Taikath, "Pretending doesn't help, I don't think. Talking does. Someone said that to me." He tests another smile on J'lor, but it's soon gone, "What was Vellath like when you first impressed?"
The bluerider gives a small snort of frustration at the memory of a hatchling Vellath. "He was a nightmare," J'lor admits. "He wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't practice anything assigned. He questioned everything I did and seemed to be contrary just for spite. It took me a full half a turn to figure him out." His brown eyes watch as D'rian straightens. "And recently?" the rider queries. "Has Chiavelth's return...is he coping? Are you?"
"Taikath's different. He doesn't share, doesn't ask. Just watches. He's quiet," D'rian squares away the other side of his knee, finding excuse there to not look at the bluerider while he shares, "He knows something has happened. Some of his dreams are strange, and I try to forget them so he won't ask what they are. He's fine. I'm fine," A pinch at the corner of his eye might say otherwise, "I'm worried though, about you." D'rian finally looks back J'lor's way, "Is she going to be okay?"
"She's going to heal, physically. The rest...she's strong. She'll survive, but I cannot imagine she won't in some way be changed. What she experienced..." the bluerider shakes his head slowly. "There aren't really any words for how such things will change you." He blinks slowly and asks, "He doesn't share? That's...unusual for a hatchling. Most of the time, the trouble is that they share too much."
D'rian nods, slowly, "She's strong," he confirms, fussing with setting an upended cup right side up, "I don't think anyone is going to be the same. Her especially. I-" D'rian's tongue darts out, licks his lips then, "I feel bad." Quicker still is the detour from the Cassiel-related topic, "He doesn't. He's quiet. But he's always watching. Sometimes, when I ask him... he's smart, J'lor. Real smart."
"He seems it. Thoughtful. Cautious. Very, very careful, your Taikath." But J'lor doesn't allow such detours for very long. He'll steer the conversation back to harder issues with the next question. "Why do you feel bad?" Emphasis on 'you'.
"Can't even walk without thinking twice about it," D'rian confirms with a serious tone. More regretful is, "The last time I talked to her...I didn't talk to her." At her. Through her. M'uri's son, acting as though greenriders weren't anything more then bed warmers.
"Maybe, then, that's something you might like to say to her," J'lor offers gently, "when she's feeling up to visitors. I think it's something she might like to hear."
"No," D'rian shakes his head and settles his hands in his lap, "I can't." He clears his throat, "She'll be alright, like you said, and we'll figure out what to do. We should focus on that."
There is a small nod, as if the bluerider might accept this. But, his words betray that suggestion. "D'rian, I'm not...entirely sure that she's going to feel very much like an actual person for a little while. It would be a good thing, if you might be willing to help with that. To speak to her. Why can't you?" The last is gentle. Curious.
"M'uri," D'rian says at last, "He spoke with me after she came back. Wanted to know what we'd seen, what we'd heard." D'rian says nothing more on that end, looking to J'lor with expectancy.
"And you think, if you speak with her, he'll take it from you?" J'lor studies D'rian silently, eyes flicking to the boy's face.
"She's a greenrider," D'rian says, "Female. It's bad what happened to her, but she's a greenrider." D'rian's words are rehearsed, as though repeated after hearing them himself a number of times, "You don't speak to them." He doesn't continue, only pushes up and moves to another spot of the weyr to begin cleaning. Told not to or otherwise, he is all the same.
"Oh," says J'lor simply. "And while I do appreciate M'uri's opinion on the topic, I'm actually asking for yours."
D'rian cleans in silence, working for a few solid seconds before responding. "I don't know how. She's not a person, she's a greenrider." D'rian's blunt admission that's now tinged with shame. Turning with an empty drawer in hand, D'rian says, "I meant to come sooner, but Taikath kept me busy. I'll bring you dinner, if you'd like. Once I finish cleaning."
"I'll get my own dinner, and I'll see to my own cleaning. D'rian. Please. Sit. You're making me edgy, and I'd like to talk about greenriders a bit more." The bluerider leans forward, hands clasping in his lap.
D'rian rebels just long enough to set the drawer in it's proper place before returning to his spot and settling back down, "I don't, J'lor." A look at the man falls away soon after, "Worry about her. Let me worry about you."
"I worry about everyone," J'lor chuckles softly. "Her. You. The other weyrlings, female greenriding ones included. Talk to her, D'rian. Or talk to Shanti. Or Riseli. Or Gananye. Just, for the moment, pretend." Another wry smile. "Pretend you are speaking to a person, and act as if you are. And see what comes of it. This is...somewhat important."
"I'll try," D'rian says with a small nod, "It won't work, but I'll try." Pessimistic by choice, he attempts a smile, "I'll try and talk to her, too."
"Thank you, D'rian. That means a great deal to me, and I appreciate it." One hand lifts to settle on the boy's shoulder and give it a squeeze. "And thank you. For visiting."
"Is it alright if I stop by later? Taikath says he'd like to see you again." D'rian stands and looks down at the bluerider, awaiting his answer before leaving.
"You're always welcome," is the quiet reply J'lor offers. "I should hope you'd know that by now."
D'rian's smile is his reply, a nod thrown in for good measure, then he's slipping down past the exit and retreating to the weyrling clearing.