Step Back
Location: Exile Beach
Time: Morning on Day 28, Month 10, Turn 2
Players: M'uri (NPCed by D'rian) and J'lor
Scene: J'lor has a request for D'rian's father. Long silences and icy stares are good signs, right? Right?
M'uri is present at the beach, soaking and scrubbing a content looking brown. Various bits of gear clutter the beach edge, pushed far enough away from the rise and fall of water so as not to inadvertently lose them. Stripped from the waist up, the brownrider goes about his work in a way reminiscent to the way D'rian often tackles his own: single minded focus.
Vellath is not with J'lor. He's with Chiavelth. But the weyrlings have been awarded a bit of free time, which means the weyrlingmaster can clear his head. This seems to be the plan as he meanders along the beach, though when he catches sight of the brown and his rider, J'lor angles in that direction.
Kelkoth is aware of J'lor's arrival, long before M'uri is. The brown unlids one eye and watches the weyrlingmaster's approach, withholding a draconic grunt until the bluerider is in range to hear it. M'uri, at that point, leans against the brown's neck, angling his elbows into dips on the side of his brown's shoulder, "J'lor. How's my boy doing?"
Kelkoth is offered a nod, once it's clear the brown is watching. The bluerider comes to a stop, hands pressing into his pockets as the other rider greets him. "M'uri," a nod, now, for Kelkoth's lifemate. "D'rian's settling in well."
"Glad to hear it, J'lor, glad to hear it." M'uri pushes away from Kelkoth, earning a rough huff from the brown and a disgruntled snap at thin air, "Heard the greenrider came back. My boy said you think she'll pull through. Good news, all around." Ducking under the browns wing, M'uri slides toward Kelkoth's hindquarters, "So what brings you out this way?"
"Cassiel is back, yes." There is no particular emphasis on the name, though J'lor's arms lift and cross in front of him as he speaks. "It's not precisely good news. Good that she's back. Less so, what befell her while she was gone. I'm here simply collecting my thoughts." He glances out to sea, squinting in the sun. "Seems you're keeping close tabs on him." Who that 'him' is, is not specified.
"Reason why I didn't say safe and sound," M'uri agrees with a terse nod, "Glad to hear she's back, though. Give her a few days and she'll be good as can be." The tip of his head disappears behind Kelkoth's back, though the sound of splashing water and the brown's content rumble ensure the bathing process is continuing. Moments later, M'uri is perched on one of the brown's legs, reaching over to scrub dutifully at his lifemate's side with bare fingers. Nodding, M'uri says, "Would've had D'rian out here scrubbing his if he weren't already busy. He'll get it done, before the day is through."
"A bit more than a few days, I should suspect," muses J'lor. Idly. Or so he tries to make it sound as one foot curls into the damp sand. The digs of his toes are washed away as a wave creeps onto shore and recedes again. "He'll get it done. On his own time."
"He'll get it done tonight. No sense in wasting the time or ignoring it. Taikath'll pay for it later, that's all," M'uri corrects, "How're the rest of them coming along? Got quite the class on your hands, J'lor, you be sure and let me know if you want help. Been a while since I was a weyrling, but I know about being a rider and that's what they'll be learning."
"They're a hapless lot. Weyrlings always are, at the start. But they're working together already, and I think, by the time the hatchlings are awake for long enough to do more than being fed or oiled, they'll already be close knit. Then we'll work on actually listening to me, on occasion." The bluerider smirks, eyes twinkling. A joke. But the faint merriment is gone with the wave that slides up onto the shore. His words, next, are soft but firm. "I need you to step back, M'uri."
"Be good to weed out those who can and those who won't now, while there's no danger to the rest of them," M'uri notes practically, "Some won't make it, J'lor, you'd be wise to admit that now and plan for it. Been watching them, can pick out a few myself. The boy there with the sick looking blue, the girl on the green-" Take your pick of which girl and green, "Not my place though." Blithely, he adds on, "Step back from what? Raising my boy?" M'uri leans against Kelkoth again, studying J'lor with an unkind expression, "Got him to where he's at, J'lor, ain't about to step back now."
"It's not your place, that's right," comes the soft and calm confirmation. J'lor turns his head to watch M'uri, his expression holding carefully to calm. "You've gotten him to where he is. Now he's a weyrling and close on to being a man. I don't see any other fathers, not even the riders, stepping into that clearing as often as you do. Nor do I see them adding extra orders to the ones I've given. He's a weyrling. He's training. He's mine just now, and I'm asking you, again, to step back."
M'uri says nothing initially, though both of Kelkoth's eyes are now opened and fixed on the bluerider. M'uri, after jumping down the brown's leg and walking back under a wing, under a neck and stepping to the shore, finally speaks. "That'd be because you got some sons who don't have fathers here, other fathers probably don't give two licks about their kid." There's a flare of possession in his expression and voice as he says, "Ain't the same with me and my boy, he'll be better for it. Got himself a bronze, J'lor, it'll mean something even if he don't realize it yet."
"He realizes, M'uri. And he's doing well with him. And now he needs a chance to prove he can continue to do well out from underneath your watch." One brow arches as J'lor's attention slips upwards to Kelkoth. "Do you doubt the lessons you've taught? Do you think he hasn't learned all you've shown him?"
"Boy can't do nothing he isn't told to do, J'lor. You're not so blind you can't see that, are you?" M'uri asks, scoffing the bluerider, "He's like a damn dog, you got to keep your eye on him or he'll mess all over himself and everything he's doing. Got his mother in him, much as I'd like to knock it out of him." M'uri waves a hand as though he could wave off the bluerider's requests that way.
"M'uri..." One of J'lor's hands lifts and drags down his face, scrubbing at his features in a long moment of frustration. "He's seventeen. He's a dragonrider. He's older than some were when they were exiled. He's older than some of the boys from the mainland. Whoever he is, it's time he had a bit of his own space to find it."
M'uri stops, his wide back placed to J'lor remains so until a long minute passes, and finally he turns. "Boy has no sense in his head, J'lor. You're asking for trouble if you want me to stop doing what I've every right to do. Putting ideas into his head that don't need to be there. I'll step back, J'lor, but he's my boy. Got the right to do with him like I see fit." Another pause, "He won't be a weyrling forever."
"No. He won't. Nor will he be a boy forever. When he graduates, he'll be a dragonrider, M'uri. Your rights only go so far. This isn't the mainland." J'lor lifts his chin and squares his jaw. "You know how we, and how I, do things here."
M'uri's thin amicable nature thins even farther at J'lor's words. Stepping closer to him with his hands on his hips, the brownrider says, "That sounds like a threat, J'lor."
"Then you're not listening," the bluerider offers gently. "Give me the turn. Let me work with him. Let him grow on his own. When he's in 'fall, he cannot turn to you. He needs the practice of thinking on his own. Once he graduates, we'll talk again. All right?"
"You'll put ideas in his head, J'lor. Ideas that'll get him killed. He's a boy and I raised him right, raised him strong." M'uri's tone edges upon angry, but the emotion never fully comes into being, "You want your turn? Take it. You'll see I'm right."
"We'll see," is all J'lor says by way or response. "Thank you." With a final nod to the brown, the bluerider turns, making his lazy way back up the beach.
M'uri remains planted, watching J'lor with an expression that turns cold when the bluerider's back is turned to him. Moving back to his brown, the rider remains there for all of seconds before resuming his washing duties.
Time: Morning on Day 28, Month 10, Turn 2
Players: M'uri (NPCed by D'rian) and J'lor
Scene: J'lor has a request for D'rian's father. Long silences and icy stares are good signs, right? Right?
M'uri is present at the beach, soaking and scrubbing a content looking brown. Various bits of gear clutter the beach edge, pushed far enough away from the rise and fall of water so as not to inadvertently lose them. Stripped from the waist up, the brownrider goes about his work in a way reminiscent to the way D'rian often tackles his own: single minded focus.
Vellath is not with J'lor. He's with Chiavelth. But the weyrlings have been awarded a bit of free time, which means the weyrlingmaster can clear his head. This seems to be the plan as he meanders along the beach, though when he catches sight of the brown and his rider, J'lor angles in that direction.
Kelkoth is aware of J'lor's arrival, long before M'uri is. The brown unlids one eye and watches the weyrlingmaster's approach, withholding a draconic grunt until the bluerider is in range to hear it. M'uri, at that point, leans against the brown's neck, angling his elbows into dips on the side of his brown's shoulder, "J'lor. How's my boy doing?"
Kelkoth is offered a nod, once it's clear the brown is watching. The bluerider comes to a stop, hands pressing into his pockets as the other rider greets him. "M'uri," a nod, now, for Kelkoth's lifemate. "D'rian's settling in well."
"Glad to hear it, J'lor, glad to hear it." M'uri pushes away from Kelkoth, earning a rough huff from the brown and a disgruntled snap at thin air, "Heard the greenrider came back. My boy said you think she'll pull through. Good news, all around." Ducking under the browns wing, M'uri slides toward Kelkoth's hindquarters, "So what brings you out this way?"
"Cassiel is back, yes." There is no particular emphasis on the name, though J'lor's arms lift and cross in front of him as he speaks. "It's not precisely good news. Good that she's back. Less so, what befell her while she was gone. I'm here simply collecting my thoughts." He glances out to sea, squinting in the sun. "Seems you're keeping close tabs on him." Who that 'him' is, is not specified.
"Reason why I didn't say safe and sound," M'uri agrees with a terse nod, "Glad to hear she's back, though. Give her a few days and she'll be good as can be." The tip of his head disappears behind Kelkoth's back, though the sound of splashing water and the brown's content rumble ensure the bathing process is continuing. Moments later, M'uri is perched on one of the brown's legs, reaching over to scrub dutifully at his lifemate's side with bare fingers. Nodding, M'uri says, "Would've had D'rian out here scrubbing his if he weren't already busy. He'll get it done, before the day is through."
"A bit more than a few days, I should suspect," muses J'lor. Idly. Or so he tries to make it sound as one foot curls into the damp sand. The digs of his toes are washed away as a wave creeps onto shore and recedes again. "He'll get it done. On his own time."
"He'll get it done tonight. No sense in wasting the time or ignoring it. Taikath'll pay for it later, that's all," M'uri corrects, "How're the rest of them coming along? Got quite the class on your hands, J'lor, you be sure and let me know if you want help. Been a while since I was a weyrling, but I know about being a rider and that's what they'll be learning."
"They're a hapless lot. Weyrlings always are, at the start. But they're working together already, and I think, by the time the hatchlings are awake for long enough to do more than being fed or oiled, they'll already be close knit. Then we'll work on actually listening to me, on occasion." The bluerider smirks, eyes twinkling. A joke. But the faint merriment is gone with the wave that slides up onto the shore. His words, next, are soft but firm. "I need you to step back, M'uri."
"Be good to weed out those who can and those who won't now, while there's no danger to the rest of them," M'uri notes practically, "Some won't make it, J'lor, you'd be wise to admit that now and plan for it. Been watching them, can pick out a few myself. The boy there with the sick looking blue, the girl on the green-" Take your pick of which girl and green, "Not my place though." Blithely, he adds on, "Step back from what? Raising my boy?" M'uri leans against Kelkoth again, studying J'lor with an unkind expression, "Got him to where he's at, J'lor, ain't about to step back now."
"It's not your place, that's right," comes the soft and calm confirmation. J'lor turns his head to watch M'uri, his expression holding carefully to calm. "You've gotten him to where he is. Now he's a weyrling and close on to being a man. I don't see any other fathers, not even the riders, stepping into that clearing as often as you do. Nor do I see them adding extra orders to the ones I've given. He's a weyrling. He's training. He's mine just now, and I'm asking you, again, to step back."
M'uri says nothing initially, though both of Kelkoth's eyes are now opened and fixed on the bluerider. M'uri, after jumping down the brown's leg and walking back under a wing, under a neck and stepping to the shore, finally speaks. "That'd be because you got some sons who don't have fathers here, other fathers probably don't give two licks about their kid." There's a flare of possession in his expression and voice as he says, "Ain't the same with me and my boy, he'll be better for it. Got himself a bronze, J'lor, it'll mean something even if he don't realize it yet."
"He realizes, M'uri. And he's doing well with him. And now he needs a chance to prove he can continue to do well out from underneath your watch." One brow arches as J'lor's attention slips upwards to Kelkoth. "Do you doubt the lessons you've taught? Do you think he hasn't learned all you've shown him?"
"Boy can't do nothing he isn't told to do, J'lor. You're not so blind you can't see that, are you?" M'uri asks, scoffing the bluerider, "He's like a damn dog, you got to keep your eye on him or he'll mess all over himself and everything he's doing. Got his mother in him, much as I'd like to knock it out of him." M'uri waves a hand as though he could wave off the bluerider's requests that way.
"M'uri..." One of J'lor's hands lifts and drags down his face, scrubbing at his features in a long moment of frustration. "He's seventeen. He's a dragonrider. He's older than some were when they were exiled. He's older than some of the boys from the mainland. Whoever he is, it's time he had a bit of his own space to find it."
M'uri stops, his wide back placed to J'lor remains so until a long minute passes, and finally he turns. "Boy has no sense in his head, J'lor. You're asking for trouble if you want me to stop doing what I've every right to do. Putting ideas into his head that don't need to be there. I'll step back, J'lor, but he's my boy. Got the right to do with him like I see fit." Another pause, "He won't be a weyrling forever."
"No. He won't. Nor will he be a boy forever. When he graduates, he'll be a dragonrider, M'uri. Your rights only go so far. This isn't the mainland." J'lor lifts his chin and squares his jaw. "You know how we, and how I, do things here."
M'uri's thin amicable nature thins even farther at J'lor's words. Stepping closer to him with his hands on his hips, the brownrider says, "That sounds like a threat, J'lor."
"Then you're not listening," the bluerider offers gently. "Give me the turn. Let me work with him. Let him grow on his own. When he's in 'fall, he cannot turn to you. He needs the practice of thinking on his own. Once he graduates, we'll talk again. All right?"
"You'll put ideas in his head, J'lor. Ideas that'll get him killed. He's a boy and I raised him right, raised him strong." M'uri's tone edges upon angry, but the emotion never fully comes into being, "You want your turn? Take it. You'll see I'm right."
"We'll see," is all J'lor says by way or response. "Thank you." With a final nod to the brown, the bluerider turns, making his lazy way back up the beach.
M'uri remains planted, watching J'lor with an expression that turns cold when the bluerider's back is turned to him. Moving back to his brown, the rider remains there for all of seconds before resuming his washing duties.